of the law that’s changing day by day. I can’t tell you Winston doesn’t have a leg to stand on because in reality, he is the biological father. If this was anyone but Blake Winston…”
“I don’t understand. Do you know him?” Rafe hadn’t mentioned knowing him in their last conversation.
“No, I don’t know him. I know of him. He has plenty of money and just as much influence. He grew up in Fawn Grove, then made a fortune in L.A. in security systems. He’s the CEO of a company that not only installs security but arranges it for politicians and stars.”
“And he lives in Fawn Grove?”
“He returned about three years ago and set up a branch of his company in Sacramento. He bought the Van Heusen mansion.”
Truth be told, Jenna didn’t read the paper often. As a teacher, her nights were spent correcting papers or doing lesson plans. Nevertheless, she knew the Van Heusen house and grounds. It was located at the northern end of town. As a child, she and her brother Gary had taken walks past it, wondering what it would be like to live in a house like that.
“And you believe his money will make a difference?” she asked, more than worried now.
“It’s not his money, Jenna. I’m just as concerned about his influence. Hold on a minute. Donna is passing me a message that came in on the other line.”
Jenna wondered how a judge would look at Blake Winston’s money and his mansion, as well as what he could offer a child.
“Jenna?”
“Yes, I’m still here.”
“The clinic called and they want a meeting.”
She’d given the clinic Rafe’s name and number, knowing she was going to let him handle this for her. “What kind of meeting?”
“They didn’t say, but I’ll find out. Are you free tomorrow?”
School was closed for summer vacation and her only commitment was filling in for her father’s secretary when Shirley left on vacation at the end of the week. But she’d fit in this meeting anytime. “Yes, I’m free.”
“Good. I suspect Winston and his lawyer will be there, too. In the meantime I’ll research case law on this. We’ll go in there as prepared as we possibly can be.”
“Rafe, I know I should give you a retainer or something—”
“Right now I’m your lawyer because I’m your friend. If it gets drawn out, we’ll talk about retainers. Okay?”
“I really don’t know how to thank you.”
“I’ll tell you how you can thank me. This has been a rough day for you. Get yourself a lemonade, put your feet up and try to do something mindless until tomorrow. I’ll get back to you with the time of the meeting.”
After Jenna had thanked Rafe again and given him her cell phone number, she hung up knowing she couldn’t stay here in the apartment in the heat. She’d stop at the ice cream parlor for a frozen lemonade and then go to the library. Maybe there in the air-conditioning, she could use their computers and do research concerning custody cases on her own. What bothered her the most about all of this was the quickening of her pulse and the roller coaster waves she’d felt when she’d looked into Blake Winston’s eyes. B.J. had been the salt of the earth, the consummate common man. He’d been a roofer and never aspired to more than that, living each day as it came. Through their years together, he’d convinced Jenna to do the same. She’d loved him with all her heart.
But she’d never had the reaction to B.J. that she’d had to Blake Winston. This rich man, the father of her child, made her pulse race in a way that had nothing to do with her pregnancy. That troubled her, almost as much as Blake’s warning that she’d hear from his lawyer.
As Rafe escorted Jenna on Tuesday afternoon into the same conference room where the bomb had been dropped on her yesterday, her gaze passed over her physician, Dr. Palmer, the clinic’s director, Thomas Franklin, the clinic’s counsel, Wayne Schlessinger, and a man she didn’t know. Then her gaze locked to Blake Winston’s. His smoky-gray eyes told her he was a complicated man. The fluttering of her stomach, which she’d like to attribute to anxiety and fear—but couldn’t if she wanted to be honest with herself—told her something else entirely. Seated at the end of the conference table, he was wearing a light blue polo shirt, navy casual slacks and supple leather loafers. Just noticing all of this made her feel as if she were betraying B.J.’s memory. Yet noticing Blake Winston’s clothes was a far better distraction than noticing the width of his shoulders, the beard line along his jaw, the vitality of his thick black hair.
“Mrs. Winton,” Wayne Schlessinger said in greeting.
“Mr. Schlessinger,” she acknowledged, and gave a little nod to everyone else, including her adversary.
After Schlessinger shook hands with Rafe, he motioned Jenna and her lawyer to two chairs on the opposite side of the table from the clinic’s representatives. Jenna found herself seated beside Blake, and an uncomfortable situation became unbearable. She was too aware of his cologne, too aware of his appraising glance as his gaze passed over her white-and-blue smocked maternity dress.
Schlessinger addressed Rafe. “I take it you’ve carefully read our settlement offer?”
“Yes, I have. But I haven’t advised Jenna to sign it.”
“May I ask why not?”
“I want her to be sure that she’s ready to waive her rights to any future lawsuits before she signs anything. It was unfair of you to pressure her to take the offer yesterday.”
“There was no pressure, Mr. Pierson.”
Jenna clasped Rafe’s arm, telling him she wanted to speak for herself. “Having a $100,000 check ready for me to endorse was pressure in itself, Mr. Schlessinger.” She looked at Blake. “Are you taking their offer?”
He repeated what he’d told her yesterday. “The clinic’s money isn’t the issue. My child is.”
“Mr. Winston,” Schlessinger interrupted. “We’ve gathered everyone here today to try to resolve this.”
“Resolve this?” Rafe asked wryly. “My client entered into a contract with you in good faith. She’s carried this child for six months. Do you think any amount of money is going to make up for the mistake your clinic made?” He directed his attention to Blake. “Do you think any amount of money will convince my client to give up her child?”
There was frustration on Blake’s face as well as a blaze of anger in his eyes as he answered. “If money won’t do it, then the law might. I’m the biological father of this child and I have rights. Joint custody at the very least. You’re right about one thing, Mr. Pierson, this isn’t going to be resolved today. Not unless your client is willing to sign a surrogate agreement and give up rights to the child when it’s born.”
Feeling as if she’d been struck by a lightning bolt, Jenna realized her child meant so much to this man that he’d use all of his power and influence to take away her baby. Although she’d been dealing with the situation since yesterday, she suddenly felt overwhelmed by it all. The information she’d read on the Internet hadn’t been encouraging,
