Harlequin Superromance February 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: His Forever Girl\Moonlight in Paris\Wife by Design (42 page)

If Tara was determined to find her birth father, and if finding him would fill the void and keep her from making a huge mistake, then her mother would help her find him.

Faith would lead the way.

* * *

“S
ORRY
ABOUT
THAT
.” Tara shot Garrett an apologetic look and set the phone back on the bedside table.

He gave her a sleepy grin and reached up to brush her hair from her face. “It's okay. My mom does weird things like that, too.”

Tara covered her eyes, hoping by some feat of magic the gesture would make her invisible. “No chance you didn't hear what she was saying, is there?”

It didn't work because Garrett found her hand with no trouble and pulled it away from her face. He faked a sorrowful expression, but the twinkle in his eye gave him away. “Nope.”

She groaned her exasperation, sinking back down into the pillow.

He sat up enough to lean on an elbow. “But maybe she's right.”

His voice was quiet, and it made Tara's heart thud in her chest. “You mean, you think we're making a mistake by having sex?”

His expression became somber, and the mirth left his eyes. But heat replaced it, along with a look the depth of which thrilled her and terrified her at the same time. “I mean, I think we're making a mistake if we believe we can walk away from this in thirteen days and treat it as if it meant nothing.”

Thirteen days. He'd used the exact number rather than the more arbitrary two weeks. He was counting them, just like she was. A knot formed in her stomach, hearing him verbalize the same agitation she'd dealt with all afternoon. “What do we do about it, though?”

“I think the first thing to do is to be honest about what's really going on, so we know where we actually stand without any pretense. I'll go first.” He rubbed his hand up and down her arm a few times, and she sensed he was trying to work up his courage. “I'm falling for you, Tara.” She watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard. “My connection with you has been so swift and hard, it scares me. I've wanted to ignore it. Act like it wasn't there. But you've been on my mind for two weeks now, and, after that first touch Saturday night, I don't want to think about
not
touching you. I already
know
you. I think I've
always
known you. I've just been waiting for you to show up in my life. Does that make sense?”

She placed her hand against his chest, could feel his heart pounding at the sincerity of his words. “You said it prettier than I could, but I feel the same way. It depresses me to think about going home and leaving you and Dylan. I know that's crazy—I
have
to go home. But...” Emotion clogged her voice, and she cleared her throat. “What if the reason I'm here isn't to find my birth father? What if I'm here to find you and Dylan?”

He brushed a tear from her face that she hadn't realized was there. “I love that idea, and I love that it's in your mind. It tells me this isn't one-sided on my part.”

She shook her head. “It's not one-sided on your part.”

He touched his lips to hers. “But don't give up on finding your father yet. He may still be out there.”

She felt her chin quiver, and she pressed her lips together to hold it still. “I'm not giving up, but I get my hopes up a little higher each time, and that makes me fall harder when it doesn't pan out.”

“I wish I could snap my fingers and deliver the right Jacques Martin to you.”

Garrett lay back and pulled her close against him in a hold that made her feel protected from any hurt the outside world might throw at her.

“So what do we do now?” she whispered.

“About Jacques Martin?”

“About us.”

He kissed her forehead and her eyelids. “We handle it the same as the search for your father. We keep our hearts open to any possibility, and we believe that, if we're meant to be together, love will find a way.”

Tara raised herself up this time, needing to see his eyes. “Love?”

He shrugged. “We can break out all the moves to dance around it, or we can call it what it is.”

She cocked her head and smiled at his straightforwardness. “Love.” She laughed. “Mama would be so horrified if she knew.”

He gave her a tender smile. “You have good parents. Weird, but good.”

“I know.” She lay down, her head on his chest listening to his heart. It was a sweet sound, a gentle sound that would lull her to sleep very quickly. “If I were smart, I'd get up and go home right now so the alarm wouldn't have to wake us up so early.”

“Mmm,” he answered and she couldn't tell if the sound was affirmative or negative.

“But I've never been accused of being a brainiac.”

“You couldn't be too smart, or you wouldn't have stayed a virgin until you were twenty-something. What a waste of talent.”

She smiled and continued smiling until his breath slowed to the deep sounds of slumber.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“T
ARA
,
SHE
IS
LOVELY
,
Garrett.”

Waiting in Garrett's office for him when he arrived, Henri was obviously anxious to talk. He had his cup of espresso in hand and one for Garrett, covered to keep it hot.

“
Bon matin, Henri.
It's good to see you, too.” He gave his friend a smile. “I knew you'd like her.”

“Her hair is very wild and crazy.” Henri's hands flew above his head, gesticulating to make his point.
“Mais, ils sont fabuleux!”

Henri never had a hair out of place, so it was interesting that he'd find Tara's wild curls fabulous.

“And her poor hand!
Mon Dieu!
Does it cause her pain?”

“She never complains about it, but she warns Dylan and me not to squeeze it too hard. She sustained some major injuries in that motorcycle wreck. It's amazing she's even here.” A lump swelled in Garrett's throat at that thought. He tried to get rid of it by swallowing his espresso in one gulp, which garnered him a disapproving eye roll from his friend. “But, I'm thrilled she is.” Even that felt like an understatement.

“
Oui, c'est évident.”
Henri paused, weighing what was coming next. “Can you share with me the circumstances of her father, this Jacques Martin? Did she recently learn of him, or has she known of him throughout her life and has only now the means or desire to search for him?”

Garrett didn't think Tara would mind, so he brought his friend up to speed on the circumstances surrounding Tara's conception.

“Très interéssant.”
Henri thrust his bottom lip out and made a French sound that meant he was mulling something over. “And you say she found names and addresses in the telephone book and on the internet?”

“That's correct.”

Henri shook his head. “Such lists would not be complete. He might be not listed. He has the cell phone,
probablement
.
Oui?
”

“Yeah. She knows that.” He and Tara had already talked about her archaic means of searching. “But she's doing it the only way she knows how.”

“Did she consider to hire a private detective?” His shrug suggested it was so obvious he shouldn't even have to mention it.

Garrett leaned back in his seat to get comfortable. He appreciated Henri's interest in Tara's predicament. Had his friend already figured out how very special she was to him?

“I suggested that, but she said she didn't know anyone in Paris who could recommend one, and she was afraid, if she hired someone blind, he'd turn out to be a shyster.”

Henri's nose wrinkled like he smelled something unpleasant. “
Qu'est-ce que ça veut dire—‘
shyster'?”

“A crook.” Garrett explained. “Someone who cheats people out of their money.”

“Ah!” Henri nodded. “
Je comprends.
But what if she finds this Jacques Martin, and
he
is the shyster?” His eyebrow lifted to make his point.

“We've discussed that, and she's aware that she'll have to be careful and trust her instincts,” Garrett agreed. “She's a pretty good judge of character. She told me that if you'd looked her up and down one more time, she was going to ask you to leave a
few
clothes on her because she didn't want to catch a cold.”

Henri had a good laugh at that. “It was the test for you,
mon ami.
Not Tara. And it worked. Your hand made the fist very quickly.”

Garrett recalled the flare of jealousy that had shot through him, and he had no doubt Henri was speaking the truth.

“But do not worry.” Henri gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “I will allow you to keep Tara for yourself.”

That pulled a laugh from Garrett. He'd never encountered a woman who would choose him over Henri—until Tara. But she left him no doubt as to who her choice would be, and it felt damn good to be the winner for once. Good enough that he had to rub it in a bit. “This is one you have no chance with. Did you see the way she latched on to my arm after you ogled her? She wasn't the least bit affected by your debonair French ways.”

Henri's warm smile lit up his face. “The woman was blind. I have heard that the climaxes may cause that condition.”

Garrett's face warmed at the truth in Henri's folklore, but he wouldn't cheapen what he had with Tara with locker-room talk. “Back to Jacques Martin.” He made his point by switching to their former subject. “It doesn't look promising that she'll find him. It's like looking for a needle in a haystack.”

Henri's nostrils flared. “What is this needle in the haystack I always hear of? American idioms do not make sense. Why would someone put a needle in a haystack? Would he be sewing in a hay field? Why would it not be like finding a needle in the pin cushion?” He crossed his arms imperiously, making Garrett certain Napoleon Bonaparte's blood ran in his friend's veins.

“I don't know, Henri. Make it a needle in a pin cushion if you want, but, either way, finding him is difficult and not likely to get any easier.”

Henri drummed his fingers on the desk, staring at them for a minute. Then he slid his eyes up slowly to meet Garrett's. “You are falling in love with her. I see this in your eyes when you speak her name.”

“Yeah, I, um...” The serious turn in the conversation was far removed from their usual banter. “I believe I am.”

“Dylan is very fond of her. He brought her into most conversations during his visit.” A hint of worry edged Henri's voice. “You had a fear this would happen.”

The strong coffee...or something...made the muscles around Garrett's heart tighten. “But love's a process that takes time, Henri, and if the right woman comes along, I have to open myself up to the process. Unfortunately, that means opening Dylan up to it, too.”

“And you think Tara could be the right one?”

Garrett took a deep breath, and the tightening loosened a smidgen. “Let's just say it feels right at this time.”

Henri broke eye contact, brushing at something on the desk. “And when will she leave?”

“The fifteenth.” The reality of the time they had left closed off Garrett's throat and made breathing impossible for a few seconds.

“If she found her birth father, would that change her plans? Would she stay longer,
peut-être?
”

Garrett hadn't considered that, but it was certainly a possibility. Extending her stay to get to know her father would make perfect sense. “I don't know. I guess that could change things. She has the summer off, so she wouldn't
have
to be back until the middle of August.” His heart beat faster at the thought.

Henri pushed out of his chair. “Well, I must begin the work,
oui?
”

“What's your hurry?” His friend's swift change in manner was out of character. With the campaign over, Garrett had expected him to take it easy today.

“I have important things to do.” Henri pointed his finger dramatically upward as he hurried from the room.

Garrett rolled his eyes at his friend's theatrics. “Frenchmen.” He chuckled. “Probably headed to the restroom.”

* * *

“D
O
YOU
SEE
IT
YET
,
Dylan?”

Tara glanced up anxiously into the sprawling tree where Dylan was searching.

“Not yet.” The child caught the branch above his head and used it to make his way to the other side of the trunk.

Tara checked the cache finder again. The treasure had to be up in the tree. “I'll give you a couple more minutes, then we'll have to give up on this one.” Her eyes darted around the park. No security guard in sight.

“I don't want to give—wait! I see something!” Dylan swung his arm over a branch and ducked under it. “There's a hole! And it's got something in it!”

The giddy excitement in his voice was infectious. Tara held her breath as he slid his hand in to retrieve what he'd found.

“Got it!” He held up a small plastic container in triumph.

“Drop it to me, so you have both hands to climb down.” Tara held her arms out, and her partner did as he was instructed.

Following the tradition to keep geocaches secret, they strolled leisurely with the treasure to the closest bench and pretended they were merely opening a mundane plastic box.

Dylan's bottom lip drooped in disappointment when he ripped the lid off and peered inside. “There aren't many items. Not like the one we found yesterday.”

Tara gave him a pat. “Yeah, but that makes this one even better.”

“Why?” He gave her one of those skeptical looks kids save for when they know adults aren't being completely truthful.

She flipped open the log. “This cache was hidden on March 3, 2011, and it's only been found...” She counted the entries. “Nine times. That means it's a really difficult cache to locate, and
you
found it!”

The grin that broke across his face was a duplicate of his dad's, making Tara's breath hitch. “Wow! That means we're good at this, aren't we?”

“We're better than good. We're freakin' awesome!” She held up her hand, but then thought better of allowing him to hit the one that had been injured. She switched to the other. “I want an official high-five for that. A high-three just won't do.”

Dylan giggled and slapped his palm against hers. Then he dug in their Crown Royal pouch, which had been donated to the cause by Garrett, pulling out one of the special tokens he and Tara had made that morning, and traded it for a gold medallion with a fleur-de-lis embossed on it.

Then he shimmied up the tree and placed the cache back in the hole where he'd found it.

Tara was absorbed in watching Dylan and didn't hear the police officer approach. When the man spoke, she wheeled around to find him giving her a look that was none too friendly.

He shook a finger at Dylan, then at her, his voice stern and unyielding. She couldn't understand a word he said.

“I'm sorry.” She had no idea how much a tree-climbing fine might run, but she didn't want to find out. “I don't understand what you're saying.”

Dylan was making his way back down. “I un—”

“Be quiet, Dylan.” She shot a silencing look his way.

The policeman's facial features lost their hard edge.
“Madame.”
He spoke slowly and precisely. “To climb trees is not allowed. We warn of the danger.” He pointed at the sign in front of their tree.

Tara willed her face to flush, and she touched her hand to the base of her throat for added drama. “Oh, I'm so sorry. My French isn't very good, so I didn't realize that's what it said. I should've checked my phrase book.”

Dylan dropped from the bottom branch to land beside her. “But you said you wouldn't need that book as long as I—”

She pulled him to her, clamping her hand lightly over his mouth. “Shh, Dylan. Don't interrupt the adults.” Then she turned her attention back to the police officer, smiling sweetly while thickening her Southern accent. “The visitor's guide said that the Luxembourg Gardens were a wonderful place to bring children.” She played the sympathy move by wiping her face with her injured hand.

Just as she'd hoped, the policeman grimaced at the sight, caught himself and then gave her an overly cheery grin. “It is of no great importance,
madame.
Your son is safe.”

Dylan nudged her leg at the policeman's error.

She ruffled his hair with her good hand and placed her other index finger to her lips. “Shh. Let the nice man finish what he's saying.”

The policeman leaned toward Dylan and wagged his finger. “You may not climb these trees. And when you climb the trees at your home, you must always be very careful. Do you understand?”

Dylan nodded. “Yes, but I don't have any trees at my house.”

“
That is unfortunate.” The man's chin buckled in a look of sympathy. “Perhaps someday you will.” He turned his attention back to Tara. “
Au revoir, madame.
I hope you will enjoy your stay in Paris.”

“You're very kind. Thank you.” Tara gave a small wave as she guided Dylan toward the walkway.

“You sort of told that policeman some fibs.” Dylan threw an accusing frown her way.

“Yes, I did,” she admitted.

One corner of Dylan's mouth curved into a half smile that was identical to, and just as charming as, his father's. “You let him think we didn't know what that sign said.”

“Yeah. I probably shouldn't have done that, but I didn't want him to fine me—fine means paying money as a punishment for breaking a law.”

“I know what it means. It makes Dad mad when people park on the sidewalk. He says he's glad they got a fine.”

She chuckled at the child's honesty.

“You let him think I was your son, too.”

His half smile burst into a full-blown grin that Tara answered with her own. “I didn't think that one would hurt anyone. It wasn't something he could fine me for. I mean, you'd look pretty weird with one of those yellow tickets stuck to your head.”

His childish giggle filled her ears and warmed her heart at the same time.

“I wish you
were
my mom.” He took her hand. “You're fun.”

The air whooshed out of her lungs, but she managed a choked “Thanks, Dylan. You're fun, too.”

Backed by the swiftness of a six-year-old's attention span, his face lost its smile. “Yesterday, Dad said you were trying to find your father. How'd you lose him?”

Oh, wow! This one was going to require the most finely honed of her teacher talents. “Well, your dad has told me that you lost your mother when you were three. That kind of lost means—”