daughter, he’d have to face the fact that the news would spread. He could ask Sierra to keep their relationship quiet for now—but if he did that she’d think he was ashamed of her.
It would help if she wasn’t into that Goth look. She’d present better to voters if he could get her to take out the eyebrow and nose piercings. Her hair…well, hell. His mouth curved in a reluctant smile. At least the color was cheerful.
And the truth was, she wasn’t really the problem. He was. Choices he’d made long before he had ever considered running for electoral office. Maybe that would make a good addition to high-school life-skills classes. Always keep in mind that your behavior now may disqualify you in future from public office. Do you want to close that door?
His campaign manager wasn’t going to be happy when he told her. Edie Cook wouldn’t appreciate being kept in the dark this long.
Tough. There was always the chance he’d learn today that, in fact, he was not Sierra Lind’s biological father. He’d be off the hook. He wouldn’t have to confess the sins of the past to anyone.
Jon drew a ragged breath that did nothing to ease his tension. He parked outside the modern building not far from the University of Washington campus and got out, locked and went in without letting himself dawdle.
The woman he’d spoken to on the phone was willing to see him immediately. Afraid he’d sue?
Miranda Foley was an attractive woman in her fifties, at a guess. She was pleasant and poised as she led him into her large, elegantly furnished office. He took a seat on the other side of her desk and handed over his driver’s license.
She scrutinized it for a moment, then gave it back. “This is an unfortunate situation. Are you quite certain you want an answer? You were guaranteed anonymity, and I’m very willing to be the bad guy here.”
Temptation showed its ugly face, but he didn’t let himself forget his mantra. Personal responsibility. Sierra deserved better of her father.
“I take it Sierra is my daughter,” he said quietly.
Miranda’s gaze dropped to the single piece of paper that lay squared in the center of her otherwise bare desktop. “Yes.”
He sat still for a moment, absorbing the news. The ball lodged in his gut didn’t unknot…but neither did whatever reaction he’d braced himself for happen. It seemed he’d already achieved acceptance.
“She explained how she found you,” Miranda said. “If word gets out, women’s access to donor sperm could be severely curtailed. I imagine there are a great many men who would live in fear that they’ll be tracked down as you’ve been.” She hesitated. “I’m a little surprised at how calmly you’re taking this.”
He was momentarily amused. If only she knew what was churning inside him.
“The circumstances are somewhat unusual,” he pointed out. “I doubt Sierra would have ever set out to find me if her mother hadn’t been killed, or even if she’d had other family who cared. It was finding herself completely alone that apparently inspired her…quest.”
“Yes, so I gathered.” She sighed. “You do intend to acknowledge her, then?”
“Yes.” He stood. “May I have a copy of that?” He nodded at the paper on her desk.
“This is for you.” She handed it to him.
He thanked her and walked out. He’d gone numb again, he realized. Or something. He found himself sitting in the driver’s seat of his car with no recollection of getting there, and he was a cop. He was always aware of his surroundings. Jon groaned and pressed the heels of his hands against his eye sockets. The pressure grounded him. He heard himself breathing hard. Maybe he wasn’t numb after all.
I’m a dad. Break out the cigars.
She’d be waiting to hear from him. She and Lucy. He hadn’t told them he was coming up to Seattle right away. He didn’t have to call this minute. He could wait until evening. Tomorrow, even.
But that would be cruel.
After a long sigh, Jon took out his cell phone. He went to Received Calls, found Lucy’s number and hit Send.
It rang only once. “Captain Brenner?” she said warily. So she’d either memorized his number or entered it in her phone.
“Yes,” he said. “Is Sierra with you?”
“Right here.” There was a murmur of voices. Then a different one, young and full of nerves, said, “This is Sierra.”
“They confirmed to me that I’m your biological father,” he said bluntly.
“Oh!” This was almost a squeal, followed by a more subdued “Oh,” probably after she’d taken in how stilted he sounded.
“I’d like to sit down with you this evening, if you’re free.” It was the first evening in nearly a week that he had been.
“Um, sure. Do you want to come to my…to Lucy’s house?”
He felt a pang that she couldn’t confidently claim ownership of her home. Kids needed to feel safe. Rooted.
“Yeah,” he said. “Can I talk to her for a minute?”
She came on, gave him her address, which he scribbled on the notepad he kept in his breast pocket, and they agreed on seven o’clock. All very matter-of-fact. He ended the call, but made no move to start his car. Instead, he kept staring blindly through the windshield at other parked cars and at the passing traffic on the cross street.
What was he going to say to his daughter tonight?
LUCY TRIED TO LEAVE THEM in privacy. She was eaten up with curiosity, of course, about what Jon was thinking, but he and Sierra were entitled to share things that would remain private.
But Sierra gripped her hand when Lucy tried to excuse herself shortly after letting him in the front door. “I—I’d like you to stay.” Her gaze darted to Jon. “If that’s okay.”
His eyes met Lucy’s. She told herself she was startled because she was used to seeing eyes that color in her foster daughter’s face, not in a man’s. But she knew better. It wasn’t just the stunningly clear, pale blue, it was what she saw in them. His eyes betrayed a rueful acknowledgment of his bemusement at being in this position. And—she thought—some attraction to her.
“It’s fine,” he said. “Lucy will be involved with any plans we make.”
Her knees weakened and she sank onto the sofa beside Sierra, still holding her hand. Plans. Oh, thank goodness. He wasn’t going to try to weasel out of any relationship with Sierra.
Lucy had already offered coffee or tea. He’d pleasantly declined. She had shown him into the tiny living room of her tiny house. He was simply too big for this room, she couldn’t help thinking. He chose the easy chair that was sized for him, but his knees bumped the coffee table. On the other side of it, she and Sierra were ridiculously close to him. Much closer than they’d been in his office. She could see every weary line on his face. His eyebrows and lashes were considerably darker than Sierra’s, making the clear blue of his eyes all
