her lip to keep from spewing the curses forming on tongue. She wanted the bag, but more than that she needed to get her daughter home so she could change and feed her and then into her crib for a nap.
She knew arguing with the arrogant man was just going to delay her. “Okay,” she conceded. “Follow me.”
She flung off Giles’s hand when he attempted to assist her into the van. The man was insufferable. She couldn’t understand how Sammie was able to put up with his dictatorial personality. It was as if he was used to giving orders and having them followed without question.
Mya hit the start-engine button harder than necessary. Lily’s father was definitely working on her very last frayed nerve. She maneuvered out of the parking lot, not bothering to glance up at the rearview mirror to see if he was following her.
Mya’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel at the same time she clenched her teeth. She knew the anger and frustration she’d unleashed at the man who’d just discovered he was Lily’s father was the result of Sammie keeping her in the dark as to her child’s paternity; repeated attempts for her to get her sister to disclose the identity of the man who’d gotten her pregnant had become an exercise in futility. It was a secret Sammie had taken to her grave.
And why now? Mya mused. What did Sammie hope to prove by waiting a month after her death to disrupt not only her life, but also Lily’s and Giles Wainwright’s? She decelerated and took a quick glance in the rearview mirror to see a black town car following her minivan.
* * *
Giles closed his eyes as he sat in the back of the sedan. Samantha was dead and he was a father! What he found incredulous was that they’d never made love without using protection. And to make certain he would not father a child, Giles had always used his condoms, because he did not trust a woman to claim she was using birth control when she wasn’t. And while he had been forthcoming when he told women he’d slept with that he wasn’t ready for marriage and fatherhood, he never said he did not want a wife or children. It was just that the timing wasn’t right, because after serving his country for ten years as a captain in the Marine Corps, he found difficulty transitioning to life as a civilian.
Giles opened his eyes and stared out the side window. Towering trees growing close to one another nearly blotted out the sunlight, while a series of waterfalls washing over ancient rocks had probably given the town its name. The mountainous landscape appeared untamed, forbidding. It was a far cry from the skyscrapers, crowded streets, bumper-to-bumper traffic and the sights and sounds that made his hometown so hypnotically exciting. He sat straight when the driver turned off into a long driveway behind Mya’s minivan.
He leaned forward. “Don’t bother to get out,” he ordered the driver. “I’m not certain how long I’m going to be inside.”
“I’ll wait here, Mr. Wainwright.”
Giles reached for the colorful blue-and-white-patterned diaper bag. He was out of the town car at the same time Mya had removed Lily from her car seat. The baby’s head rested on her shoulder.
Looping the straps of the bag over one shoulder, he gently gathered Lily from Mya’s arms. “I’ll carry her.” He met Mya’s brilliant catlike eyes, not seeing any of the hostility she had exhibited in the law office.
“Thank you.”
He followed her up the porch steps to a house he recognized as a modified Louisiana low-country home. As a developer, he had gotten a crash course in architectural styles and he favored any residential structure with broad porches welcoming the residents and callers with cool shade. Tall shuttered windows and French doors were representative of the French Colonial or plantation style.
Admiring the house with twin fans suspended from the ceiling of the veranda, the white furniture, and large planters overflowing with live plants did not hold as much appeal as the small, warm body pressed to his chest. He lowered his head and pressed a kiss on her silky curls. The distinctive scent associated with babies wafted to his nose, a pleasing fragrance that reminded him of the times he’d held his nephews.
His previous declaration that he wasn’t ready for fatherhood no longer applied, because the child in his arms was a blatant reminder that he had to get ready. He and Samantha engaging in the most intimate act possible had unknowingly created another human being. Even before sleeping together, he and Samantha had talked about marriage and children and he was forthcoming and adamant that he wasn’t ready for either.
And when he’d walked into the conference room and had seen the infant for the first time, there was something about her that reminded him of someone, and within minutes of the attorney reading the contents of the codicil, Giles knew that someone was his sister. Lily had inherited Skye’s raven-black hair and blue eyes. Giles, his mother, his sister and his cousin Jordan were the dark-haired anomalies among several generations of blond Wainwrights.
He watched Mya as she unlocked the front door; she tapped several buttons on the wall to disengage the house’s security system. He stared at her delicate profile, wondering what was going on behind her impassive expression. She and Samantha may have been sisters, but there was nothing physically similar that confirmed a familial connection. Samantha had been a petite, curvy, green-eyed blonde, while Mya was tall, very slender, with a complexion that was an exact match for the gold strands in her chestnut curls.
She held her arms out for the baby. “I’ll take her now.”
Giles handed her the sleeping infant and then the bag. “What are you going to do with her?”
“She needs to be changed, and then I’m going to give her a bottle before I put her to bed.”
A slight frown appeared between Giles’s eyes. “It’s lunchtime. Aren’t you going to give her food?” he asked. Mya had mentioned having to feed her.
Mya shook her head. “No. I’ll give her a snack after she wakes up. The bottle will hold her until then. Make yourself comfortable in the family room. I’ll be back and then we’ll talk about what’s best for Lily.”
Giles felt as if he had been summarily dismissed as he stared at Mya’s narrow hips in a pair of black tailored slacks. He walked over to a pale-pink-and-white-pinstriped sofa and folded his tall frame down.
Everything about the space was romantic and inviting, beckoning one to come and sit awhile. He admired the floor plan with its open rooms, high ceilings and columns that matched the porch posts. French doors and windows let in light and offered an unobstructed view of the outdoors. Wide mullions in the off-white kitchen cabinet doors were details repeated in the home’s many windows. The tongue-and-groove plank ceiling, off-white walls, kitchen cabinets, cooking island and breakfast bar reflected comfortable family living.
Family. The single word reminded him that he now had a family of his own. A hint of a smile tilted the corners of his mouth when he thought of his daughter. Then within seconds his smile vanished when he realized he had no legal claim to her. The lawyer had indicated Samantha was of sound mind and body when she drew up her will and then added the codicil, but Giles wondered if she actually had been in her right mind. It was obvious Samantha had died, and he wondered if she had known she was dying?
Giles knew he could challenge the will and authenticate his paternity. He had the resources to hire the best lawyers in the country to sue for sole or joint custody with Mya. Lily may be a Lawson, but she was also a Wainwright. And Giles wasn’t above using his family name and wealth to claim what belonged to him.
He rose to his feet when Mya reappeared.
