On the Fly (Crimson Romance) (30 page)

The elevator stopped several times. Each time, Tracy tried to step off the elevator, and Pride blocked the little girl.

When the elevator halted at the fifteenth floor, Tracy had finally gotten the idea and refused to exit with her relatives.

“How do people stand living here?” Gloria asked.

“They lead lives of quiet desperation.” Pride laughed at her cousin’s comical grimace.

They marched down the hall, children in tow, until they were certain they were headed in the correct direction.

“Here we are,” Pride said at last. “Suite 1542. Oh, Lord. Be still, my fluttering heart. Flynn’s gotten himself an office.”

Her heart didn’t just flutter. It bounded, bounced and pounded. No wonder Flynn had avoided her at the funeral.

Her feeling of impending fate was right on target. Thank goodness she had paid attention to her intuition and brought Gloria and the children along.

“Flynn? Sutherland?” Gloria stared at the elegant gold letters. “I thought he worked for the family business.”

“Why would Daddy leave his will with Flynn?” Pride wondered aloud. She focused all her attention on the thought and ignored the wild hope roaring through her. “He was a big one on proper appearances. He should have ignored Flynn’s existence.”

Gloria looked helplessly at Pride. “What are you going to do? This has got to be the world’s worst timing. I mean, how do you show a man his son for the first time with your cousin and her three hyperactive youngsters looking on?”

“Are you kidding?” Pride gathered her thoughts and reminded herself not to hope. “Flynn probably believed Daddy and still thinks I had a miscarriage. Not that he’d think my son had anything to do with him, anyway,” she added, for good measure.

Gloria’s mouth tightened. “I’d better stay out here with the children while you go in. He might just surprise you if he doesn’t have an audience.”

“Maybe.” Pride smiled and took firm hold of emotions. “But let’s keep matters interesting. How much would you like to bet that Flynn thinks Johnny is your child rather than mine?”

“You mean you aren’t going to tell him?”

“Why should I? He never made any effort to check on me, so it won’t hurt him to wait until I’m ready before I tell him.” She hoped her smile covered her hurt over that fact. “Tell you what. If I can sit there in Flynn’s office, with Johnny on my lap, without Flynn suspecting anything, you owe me lunch.”

“Pride, I hate to mention this, but Johnny doesn’t look anything like me. He looks more like you, especially since you’ve lightened your hair.”

“He looks a lot like Flynn, actually,” Pride said. “Come on, Gloria. Where are your sporting instincts?”

Gloria regarded Johnny a moment. “Do you honestly believe Flynn is going to think Johnny is my son?”

“Yes.” But inside, Pride prayed he saw the truth.

Gloria lifted her brows. “All right. You’re on. You did say Flynn has dark blond hair, didn’t you?”

“And brown eyes,” Pride supplied. “If Johnny’s eyes were green, I’d start totaling up the cost of our lunch.”

“I can’t believe you’re going to do this.”

“I’m just giving Flynn the opportunity to be his usual single-minded self. If he brings the matter up, then I’ll say something.”

Gloria nodded. “If he’s anything like Johnny, I suppose I can see your point.”

“Johnny takes after Flynn in more than looks,” Pride agreed. “Come on. We’re a few minutes late.”

She glanced down at herself, thankful she wore her navy linen suit. Cool and business-like, that was the ticket. Too bad she hadn’t twisted her hair up in a tight little bun.

Pride, cradling Johnny, shoved open the glass door which bore the legend: Flynn Sutherland, Attorney at Law. Inside, an efficient-looking woman with short brown hair looked up from the brief she was typing and smiled. When she saw the four children, her smile broadened.

“I’m Pride Donovan.” Pride consulted a notebook she produced from her purse. “I have an appointment with the attorney at eleven o’clock.”

“Yes, Miss Donovan. He’s expecting you.” She punched her intercom and announced Pride. “What beautiful children.”

Gloria thanked her as the door to the inner office opened and Flynn Sutherland stepped out.

Pride sucked in air and clutched her son, thankful she had a soft, sweet-smelling warm child to hold while she faced Flynn for the first time in three years. How could Flynn stand there and not realize Johnny was his own son?

“Hello, Pride,” Flynn said. “Come on in.”

He could because when Flynn had an idea in his head, no matter how mistaken, he ignored all clues to the contrary.

Pride detected Gloria’s dawning astonishment and had to bite back a wry smile that hid her own disappointment.

Flynn looked as magnificent as ever. The sight of his tall, broad-shouldered body in the dark-gray business suit still had the power to accelerate her heart and make her shiver with longing. His red tie and white shirt accentuated his tanned skin and sun-bleached hair, hair that had originally been exactly the color of Johnny’s.

His straight, dark brows had drawn together as he studied her, and his brown eyes held a thoughtful look. Pride remembered the merry, teasing expression those dark eyes had once held and squashed another shiver of longing.

Flynn appeared to note the fact that Pride had brought friends. He smiled at Eric, who approached in the fearless manner of a four-year-old boy who had never known anything but love.

“Are all of you with Pride?” Flynn watched Eric, still smiling. “Ms. Ross, will you please send out for refreshments? These children look thirsty.”

“I’m Eric,” Eric announced. “This is my Aunt Pride, and my mother, and this is my sister, Tracy. That’s Johnny, and that’s Sylvia.”

Pride smiled her approval. “That’s very good, Eric. Now tell the nice man your last name.”

That would get Flynn, Pride decided gleefully. Being described as a nice man ought to cut one of Houston’s most eligible bachelors down to a proper size.

“Boudreaux,” Eric supplied.

Flynn, who had always seemed singularly oblivious to his eligibility, knelt to shake Eric’s hand gravely, then he stood and smiled at Gloria.

“You’re Pride’s cousin,” he said. “I’m Flynn Sutherland. Please come in.”

“It might be better if I sit out here with the children while you talk to Pride,” Gloria said. “If you have anything important to discuss, things could get a little distracting.”

“I doubt if Daddy’s will can be classified as important.” Pride winked at Gloria. “You might as well come on in. It’ll be our laugh for the day.”

Flynn said nothing. He stood aside and held the door while Gloria and Pride herded their charges inside his office.

Flynn’s office boasted a comfortable sofa, which Gloria and Pride both settled on, with two children between them and one on each side.

Flynn closed the door and took in the five pairs of expectant brown eyes and the single pair of wary green eyes that focused on him.

“You look like six owls on a wire,” he observed.

“That’s because we’re all so wise,” Pride intoned. With Gloria and the children present, she found herself almost able to deal with him. “Come on, Flynn. Don’t keep us in suspense. We want to know if we can buy our tickets to Bermuda now, or do we have to wait a thousand years, while the penny Daddy left me accrues interest.”

“Your filial respect is impressive,” Flynn said.

“If I had ever developed any filial respect, no doubt it would impress me, too,” Pride said, with equal dryness. “Skip the boring parts and acquaint us with the interesting stuff. The kids want to get outside and play.”

“Hold your horses.” Flynn walked to his desk and perched on the corner of it, studying her. “Let me look at you a minute.”

Pride looked back at him, studying him in the same way he studied her. The past three years hadn’t been as kind to her as they apparently had to Flynn.

“That hair color suits you,” he said, at last. “I like it.”

“Thank you.” Pride firmly squelched the upsurge of pleasure.

“What happened to your freckles?”

“My freckles?” She blinked, surprised. “I think they just faded away. I haven’t been in the sun much these past few years.”

“That will have to be remedied.” Flynn studied her some more. “Are you sure you don’t have them covered with makeup?”

Pride refused to get into a discussion of her makeup. She said nothing and glanced meaningfully at Gloria.

Gloria widened her eyes and gave her shoulders an infinitesimal shrug.

“Hey,” Pride exclaimed. “What do you think you’re doing?”

While she exchanged glances with Gloria, Flynn produced a handkerchief from his pocket, dipped it in a cup of coffee sitting on his desk, then took Pride’s chin in one hand and applied the wet cloth to her nose with the other.

Immediately, an ominous tickle began inside Pride’s nose.

“Mine,” Johnny shouted.

Pride, thoroughly flustered, grabbed for her son as he lunged for Flynn’s hand. Johnny latched onto Flynn’s wrist and entangled his small fingers around Flynn’s gold watchband.

Flynn, startled, paused in his ministrations to Pride’s nose and stared at the little boy clinging to his wrist.

Pride sneezed, a mighty sneeze that rattled her teeth and made her eyes tear.

“Bless you.” Flynn passed her the handkerchief.

“Thanks a heap —
Atchoo
. Now look what you’ve done.
Atchoo
.”

“Mine,” Johnny yelled, louder.

Pride opened watery eyes. Her son danced on the edge of the sofa with both small hands outstretched, pleading at the top of his voice.

Flynn Sutherland backed up carefully and pulled his sleeve down to cover his watch. “I seem to have started something here.”

“You’re right. This is all your fault.” Pride dried her eyes and blew her nose with relish. “Don’t you know better than to wear a mariner’s watch around little children? You should have taken it off as soon as we came in. They were bound to see it.”

“I’m sorry,” Flynn said, looking at Gloria. “I didn’t realize the reaction it would cause.”

Gloria’s mouth opened and closed. She appeared bereft of words.

Pride wadded Flynn’s handkerchief and dried her nose. Thanks to Flynn, the whole world smelled like coffee.

“You can either take it off and put it in your drawer or you can let him play with it while we’re here,” Pride informed Flynn. “Otherwise, you won’t get a bit of business transacted.”

“Give him my watch?” Flynn regarded Johnny doubtfully.

Johnny bounced up and down on the edge of the sofa with both hands outstretched, clearly a child whose life would be forever blighted if he didn’t instantly receive the object of his desire. For once, Pride enjoyed the stubborn streak that would keep her son’s mind fixed on Flynn’s watch until he got it.

“Mine,” he cried. “Mine.”

“No, Johnny, it is not yours,” Pride said. “It belongs to Flynn. What have I told you about things that aren’t yours?”

“Mine,” Johnny reiterated tearfully.

“Do you want me to take you outside and explain the matter further?” Pride asked, in a mother’s rhetorical manner.

Johnny appeared likely to expire of a broken heart at any moment.

“What have you done to him, boss?” Killeen Ross entered and set a tray on Flynn’s desk. “I didn’t know you went in for torturing innocent little kids.”

“It’s the other way around,” Flynn said, over Johnny’s wails.

“He got a glimpse of a forbidden treat,” Pride said, tongue-in-cheek. “We’re lucky the others weren’t sitting where they could see it.”

Flynn glanced at his own wrist. “Why my watch?”

“See all those pretty little flags on the face? Kids love telling time by reading nautical flags.”

“He can read nautical flags?”

“It’s in his blood,” Pride said, straight-faced. “Come on, Flynn. Give.”

“Mine,” Johnny wailed.

“Flynn’s,” Pride corrected.

“Flynn’s,” Johnny pleaded.

“How old is he?” Flynn looked toward Gloria.

Gloria made a sound indicative of someone choking to death.

“He can’t be more than two.” Killeen handed out glasses of soft drink.

“He was two years old on March twelfth,” Pride said. “Un-wrist that watch, Flynn, or we’ll be here all day.” Flynn unclasped the watch, removed it from his wrist, and brought it to Johnny. Johnny’s small fingers closed around it like the arms of a starfish around an oyster.

“Johnny, what do you say?” Pride asked.

“Flynn’s.”

“What do you say to Flynn?”

Johnny looked up at Flynn and said in a clear, childish voice, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Flynn said.

Killeen Ross, covering her mouth with her hand, exchanged gleeful glances with Pride and backed out of the office.

Johnny got busy trying to pry the crystal off the watch so he could get to the brightly colored nautical flags on the face of the watch.

“Now, Flynn,” Pride said, grinning. “Tell us all about our trip to Bermuda.”

Flynn watched Johnny a moment then lifted his gaze to her. “Why didn’t you get in touch with your father before he died?”

“What makes you think I didn’t?” Pride asked.

“He told me as much. When I received your father’s request to handle his estate, he was in the hospital in bad shape. Before I could get there the next morning, he died.”

“That’s too bad,” Pride said. “Obviously, he was about to make an Interesting Revelation.”

“Don’t be flippant.” Flynn regarded her, frowning. “You’ve never been close to your father, have you?”

She had never told Flynn any of her troubles with her father on the grounds that people who detailed their innermost pain to other human beings were deadly bores.

“That’s probably the understatement of the year,” she replied. “He has always believed I’m not his real daughter.”

Flynn’s brown eyes went wide. He stared at her a moment in astonished silence.

“He never gave my mother a moment’s peace, and he was rude and disrespectful to her in public,” Pride went on. “No, I was not close to him. To tell you the truth, I didn’t like him much. Therefore, I haven’t any more idea than you have as to what he wanted to see you about.”