not his son.” He’d said those words in his head a hundred times in the last three days. Blurting them aloud made the truth no more palatable.
“You were adopted? And you didn’t know?”
“My mother says that’s not the case.”
“An affair, then?”
Pierce winced inwardly. “I don’t think that’s a possibility. My mother is a one-man/one-woman kind of female. She adores my dad. For a moment I thought she might be lying to me about the adoption thing. But I saw her face when the doctor told us. She was devastated. This news was as shocking to her as it was to me.”
“So then the only other explanation is that you were switched in the hospital nursery, right?”
“My mother’s aunt, my great-aunt, was the doctor on duty that night. I highly doubt that she would have allowed such a mistake.”
“So you need me to do what?”
He leaned his forearm on the mantel, staring at a painting of Thomas Jefferson hanging on the wall above the fireplace. The former president had fathered an undetermined number of children. People were debating his paternity even now.
Pierce had never once doubted his familial connections. He was as close to his parents as a son could be, though they’d had their differences during his adolescent years. The knowledge that he was not his father’s blood son had shaken him to the core. If he wasn’t Pierce Avery, then who was he?
“My mother is spending every waking minute at the hospital with my father. She hopes they will get him stabilized enough to go home. But even so, her focus is his well-being.”
“And you?”
“I’ve informed my assistant manager that I may need some personal time. He’s extremely competent. So I have no worries there. I’ll make myself available to you as much as possible, but we need you to spearhead this investigation. We’ve told my father I’m not a match, but he doesn’t know the whole truth. Clearly, this is very important to us. We need your help.”
* * *
Nikki had never seen a man less likely to need help from a woman. Pierce Avery was big. Broad-shouldered, well over six feet and muscular on top of that. He looked like he could take a mountain apart with his bare hands...or scale one in a blizzard.
He was also the kind of man who instinctively protected women. She could see it in his stance. His sheer masculinity made something flutter in her belly. She was educated, independent. Financially stable. So why did the prospect of being coddled and sheltered by a big, strong man make her go weak in the knees with silly feminine arousal?
Those pesky prehistoric pheromones.
“It seems to me that our first step will be to subpoena hospital records,” she said calmly. Pierce Avery wanted immediate action. That much was evident. So she would try to be accommodating.
Her would-be client grimaced. “The hospital was a private facility. In the mid-nineties, it was bought out by a corporate entity, absorbed and ultimately bulldozed.”
“Nevertheless, the records had to be preserved somewhere.”
“That’s what we’re hoping. How long will it take you to get them?”
Nikki frowned. “You seem to have the misguided notion that you are the only case I have to consider.” His single-mindedness was understandable, but unacceptable.
“We can pay.”
Nikki felt her hackles rise. “I don’t like it when rich people throw their money around and expect everyone else to jump.”
He glanced at her expensively framed diplomas. “Harvard isn’t exactly cheap, Ms. Parrish. I doubt you’ve ever clipped coupons.”
She willed her anger to subside, regulating her breathing until she could speak without inflection. “You’d be surprised.”
He stared at her. “I’ve never cared much for lawyers.”
One by one, he was pushing each of her buttons. Teeth clenched, she glared. “Are you always this obnoxious?” She stood, smoothing her skirt.
Pierce closed the small distance between them, running a hand through dark hair that was thick and a little shaggy. “Are you always this difficult?”
Their breath comingled. She could see a pulse beating in the side of his neck. His deep-brown eyes were too beautiful for a man. “I rarely brawl with my customers,” she muttered. “What is it about you?”
He stepped back. It irked her that her reaction felt more like disappointment than relief. “I’m not myself,” he said, looking somewhat abashed.
“Is that an apology?”
“I still don’t like lawyers.”
“You can’t really afford to be choosy, can you?”
His eyes flashed. “This wasn’t even my idea.”
“No,” she drawled. “Your mommy made you come.” She taunted him deliberately, curious to see if he would tell her to go to hell.
Instead, he surprised her by laughing out loud, his entire face lighting with humor. “This is the first time in my life that I recall ever paying to be insulted.”
She shook her head, bemused by the almost instant connection between them. A negative kind of rapport perhaps, but a definite something. “I do believe you bring out the worst in me.”
“Bad can be good.”
He said it with a straight face, but his eyes danced.
“I don’t flirt with clients,” she said firmly, shutting him down.
“Why is this office for rent?”
He shot the question beneath her defenses, leaving her gaping and struggling to find an ambiguous response. “Well, I...” Damn it. She was cool and deadly in a courtroom. But that was with hours of preparation. Today she felt quicksand beneath her feet.
Pierce cocked his head. “State secrets?”
She sighed. “Not at all. If you must know, I’ve sold my practice. I have an offer to join a firm in northern Virginia, just outside D.C. With one of my law professors.”
“I hear a but in there somewhere.” His curious gaze belied his earlier gruffness.
“I asked for time to think about it. I’ve been out of school for six years. Never taken more than a long weekend for vacation. Burnout is such a clichéd word. But that’s where I am.”
“You must be pretty sure of your decision if you’ve already sold your practice.”
“I’m not. Not at all. But even if I don’t take the offer, I’m ready for something new. I’d like to work as legal counsel for a nonprofit.”
“You
