So far the only thing he’d allowed the Fortunes to give him was their name. And that was only because he liked bearing the name of the slimeball who’d abandoned his mother even less.
As he pulled the Explorer to a halt in the circular drive fronting the red-roofed stucco house, the deep melancholy that had plagued him returned. He dragged himself from the car and used the house key his mother had given him for situations just like this, letting himself into the cool house and heading for the kitchen.
“Kane!” As he passed the dining room, his mother glanced up and saw him, and her blue eyes crinkled into a warm smile as she rose. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
He stopped in the doorway. “I wasn’t expecting me, either. But I only have a few hours until rounds, and home was too far away.”
Even this early in the morning, with no makeup and her blond hair caught back in a loose, low knot, Miranda Fortune was still a beautiful woman. Though she’d worked like a dog during his childhood to eke out a decent life for him and Gabrielle, she’d retained the striking good looks possessed by so many of the Fortune clan.
His clan. His family. The same characteristics that looked at him in the mirror every morning. Or evening. Or whenever the hell he had time to shave.
The thought reminded him of how wiped out he was. “Do you mind if I crash here for a while?”
“Of course not.” She came toward him, stretching up to kiss him on the cheek. “Go. Find a bed. You look exhausted.”
He did, stopping only to snag a plateful of leftover chicken and cucumber salad from the cook, which he inhaled standing up while the small Mexican woman chattered a stream of Spanish at him warning him of the dire consequences of gobbling his meal. Five minutes later, he was pulling off his boots and sinking into the firm king mattress in the bedroom he customarily took when he visited his mother.
He was in a deep, dreamless sleep when the ringing of the telephone near his bed jerked him from slumber. Startled, too sleepy to be coherent, he shot out a hand and grabbed the receiver, holding it to his ear to marshal his thoughts before speaking. It was probably a page from the hospital.
But before he could speak, the sound of a man’s voice caught his attention.
“…thought you’d be glad to hear from me, honey. After all, I am the father of your children. Some of ’em, at least.”
“It’s only eight-thirty in the morning. What do you want?” His mother’s voice was thin and quavering, totally unlike her normal tones.
“Figured I’d catch you before you started your daily socialite routine.” There was a wheedling note in the man’s tone. “I only want a little teeny-tiny somethin’ that you have enough of not to miss.”
“Money.” Miranda’s tone was stronger, flat with disgust. “I should have known it would take money to bring you out of the woodwork, Lloyd.”
Lloyd…! It was his father. Lloyd Wayne Carter. The man whose surname he’d had the misfortune to bear most of his life even though the man himself had taken off without a backward glance before his second child was even born.
“I got a letter from our little daughter Gabrielle, y’know. Looked me up and wanted to let me know I was a grand-daddy. Surprised the heck out of me to find out that my little Randi’s rollin’ in money, I can tell you. How come you never shared any of that money with me when we were married?”
“That’s not your business.” Miranda tried to inject assurance into her tone. “You took yourself out of my life almost thirty years ago. I don’t want you back in it now.”
“Well, that’s a real shame, ’cause our little girl wants me. Invited me to come and visit, see my grandbaby. Wasn’t that sweet?” Carter spoke in a sugary tone that made Kane grit his teeth. Then a sound in the background caught his attention. It sounded like a woman, furiously whispering. But he couldn’t make out the words.
“Don’t you dare come here! You stay away from me and my children! You didn’t have a thing to do with raising them, you—you—”
“Now, Randi, calm down—”
“I will not calm down—”
“Or this conversation ends and I go straight to—”
“No. No! Please don’t tell him.”
“Then ante up, sweetheart. He lives right there in San Antonio, y’ know.” Kane definitely heard a woman’s voice this time, but the sound was drowned out as his mother sucked in an anguished breath.
“I’ve kept your little secret for a long time, and I deserve something for it, don’t you think?”
“How much?” Kane had never heard his mother’s voice sound so dull and lifeless. “How much do you want, Lloyd, to get out of my family’s life again for good?”
“Hmm. I’m not a greedy man, Randi honey. How about twenty-five thousand for each twin? That should get me out of my present unfortunate circumstances and leave me a little to get by on.”
“Fifty thousand?” Miranda sounded genuinely stunned. “You can’t be serious!”
“As a heart attack, honey.” Carter guffawed at his own wit. “With all the money you got when you rejoined your loving family after ol’ Kingston kicked off, you’ll never even miss it.”
“Don’t you speak my father’s name, you pig.” Miranda’s voice was shaking. “My father was—”
“I guess this is a little bit of a shock,” Carter broke in. “Tell ya what. I’ll give you some time to think it over. I’ll be coming to San Antonio to see my little daughter and granddaughter, maybe look up my fine son in a few weeks. I’ll see you then, honey, and we can square this deal.”
“You don’t have a deal.” But there was no force behind Miranda’s words.
“Oh, I’ll have a deal,” he promised. “Or I’ll be lookin’ up a certain oil man and askin’ him how his twins are.”
Miranda made an incoherent sound.
“See ya soon, Randi. We’ll have ourselves a real fine family reunion.” And he ended the connection.
“Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.”
Kane realized his mother hadn’t replaced the receiver. He took the stairs to the first floor two at a time, his chest heaving and his hands shaking with tension. Bursting into the dining room where his mother still sat, the phone in one hand and a shocked, blank expression on her face, he demanded, “I was listening in. What the hell did that bastard want? What did he mean about ‘the twins’?”
“Don’t curse, dear,” his mother said. Then her breath hitched, and to his horror, she burst into tears.
Allison Preston entered the staff lounge at seven-thirty that evening and went straight to her locker. Thank God her four-day week ended after tomorrow’s day shift. Twelve-hour shifts were bad enough, but she’d no sooner gotten home in the morning than she’d gotten a frantic call from her supervisor. One of the
