do it all the time.”
“Because none of it was real.” Or did her show of attitude indicate otherwise? Was she upset because she, too, had got more caught up in their time together than she’d intended?
So what if she was? It didn’t matter. Couldn’t matter. She was so off-limits she may as well live on Venus.
“What do you want from me?” If it wasn’t money or for him to assume care of Jasmine, which would definitely change his life, then what else was there?
She sighed and relaxed her stance. “I want to adopt her.”
He lifted both brows. That was a response he hadn’t expected. And why did it give him mixed feelings of relief and disappointment?
“Sounds like you have it all worked out. So why do you need me?”
A look of anguish flashed through her pure blue eyes.
“Even though I’m Jazi’s godmother and it’s what Alliyah would want, I don’t meet the qualifications for an adoptive parent. I’m single and a dancer.” She shrugged as if that said it all. “I need you to assume custody and then we can do a private adoption.”
Custody. The word sent a rumble of dread down his back. And made him wonder. “Where is she?”
“Child Protective Services took her away. She’s in foster c-care.” She pressed her lips together and blinked a couple of times. “Alliyah would hate that.”
The thought of his daughter in foster care burned like acid through his blood.
Except she may not be his daughter at all. The fact she had a birthmark and his eyes was circumstantial at best. Still, he’d spent too many years in the grueling system to be placid about any innocent being tossed to that merciless grist mill.
“I get to see her and I go as often as they’ll let me, but if I don’t do something soon, they’ll release her for adoption and I’ll never get to see her again.” In her eagerness, she stepped closer bringing the scent of a tropical night with her. She raised pleading eyes to his. “You have to help me.”
“I don’t actually.” Time to go. This woman got to him. Had since the moment she walked into his world. If he didn’t leave now, he’d promise her the moon. “I need to consider what you’ve told me.” He moved to the door, grabbing his jacket en route. “I’ll have my assistant call you for an appointment in the next day or two.”
She nodded. Her arms were crossed over her chest again, but the pose held elements of disappointment and hope, as if she were holding herself together by a thread.
Damn it. He charged across the room and grabbed up the picture. “I’m taking this with me.”
This time when he left, he didn’t look back.
* * *
There was no going to sleep after Jethro’s visit. She tried. And failed. She tossed and turned, replaying her conversation with him over and over in her head. After two hours, she finally gave up and crawled out of bed still not knowing what to think.
She dragged herself to the kitchen and the coffeepot. The scent of the fresh-ground beans perked her up. She stood over the machine as it brewed, holding her cup under the spigot to catch the first stream and then switching in the pot.
She wandered to the couch and curled up with her cup. Dancers by trade tended to be night people. She used to be at her peak at this hour. Tonight her brain barely functioned except it wouldn’t shut off.
Jethro had pointed out he didn’t have to help her. But he’d taken the picture. And his assistant would be calling to make an appointment. Did that mean he believed her? Or was his comment just a way to get him out of the apartment without a further scene and she’d never see him again?
No. She refused to believe he’d just walk away. She’d seen the look in his eyes when he’d stared at the picture of Jazi. He saw the resemblance. And he’d act on it.
Wouldn’t he?
Stop. She couldn’t take this vicious Ferris wheel any longer. She drained her coffee and went to change. She needed to dance.
She’d given up her vocation, but she’d always dance. She needed the release like she needed to breathe. Especially now. The exercise would help her to get out of her head and relieve the tension still lingering in her body from its encounter with Jethro’s. There had to be a gym open somewhere at this hour.
* * *
Jethro stood staring out the floor-to-ceiling window of his penthouse suite. The lights and flash of the Las Vegas Strip spread out before him in a glimmering kaleidoscope of color and movement. And he saw none of it.
He couldn’t get the picture of a dancing baby with midnight-blue eyes out of his head.
He’d resolved to never have a family. But Lexi’s announcement shook him. If he had a daughter, that changed everything.
Except it didn’t have to.
Lexi wanted to raise the baby as her own. She couldn’t be more clear that he wasn’t invited to the party. His money and presence were not needed.
A knock came at the door and then Clay Hoffman stepped inside. Tall and blond, the man moved with military precision. You could put the grunt in a suit, but you couldn’t take the army out of the man. A foster brother and friend, Clay ran all things security related for Pinnacle Enterprises.
“I got your summons.” Clay went to the bar and helped himself to a drink. “What’s the emergency?” He dropped down on the brown suede couch and glanced around. “Where are Jackson and Ryan?”
“They aren’t coming.” Jethro joined his friend in the living area. “This is personal.”
“Personal?” Clay’s brows rose. “And it couldn’t wait until morning? Do you have an incident with one of your other companies? Cause you know the guys are more than willing to help even when it’s not Pinnacle business.”
“I prefer to keep this private for now.” Jethro picked up his abandoned drink and sipped. The burn of whiskey down his throat—just what he needed to loosen his tongue. “It appears I may have a daughter.”
“As if.” Clay laughed and sipped his drink. “Come on, tell me what this is about.”
Jethro simply stared at him.
Finally Clay’s eyes went big and he shook his head. “You’re serious. You have a daughter?”
“Maybe. Probably.” Jethro glanced at the picture frame on the coffee table.
“Is this her?” Clay reached for the picture and stared. “Oh, hell.”
“So you see it, too?”
“That she has your eyes? It’s hard to miss.”
“I’m told she has my birthmark, too.”
Clay returned his attention to the photo and squinted. “Hmm. Could be, I guess.
