Chapter 5

CHAPTERFIVE

Tanner swirledthe dregs of his scotch around the bottom of his crystal glass. A single lamp illuminated his desk, pitching the rest of his study in darkness. It suited his mood.

He deserved every name Paige called him earlier today, and a whole lot more. His mother would tan his hide if she knew how he’d manipulated the woman to bend to his will. Still, he wouldn’t regret it. His anxiety of the past few days had lessened exponentially knowing Paige would be here caring for Whitney while he was away. His mind was free once again to focus on his game.

Best of all, the little girl seemed delighted her protector would be staying with her. He’d announced the plan to Whitney when he was putting her to bed. It was the first time he’d seen even a glimmer of a smile since she arrived.

It was also the first time he’d tucked her in. Almeda was responsible for handling Whitney’s primary care since she arrived. He only hoped he’d done everything the correct way. He had no idea what kids liked and didn’t like. The queen-size bed in the guest room practically swallowed up the tiny girl.

Did she have a bed more suitable to a child at home? Tanner pictured her in a princess bed with netting and fairy lights above it. One of the players on the tour had a similar setup for his little girl and the guy couldn’t stop showing off pictures to anyone and everyone.

He wondered if Whitney had trouble sleeping in the big bed here. Should he get her a smaller one? He could, except she wasn’t staying. As soon as they found Donella, Whitney was going back home. If she didn’t have a princess bed there, he’d simply send one home with her as a parting gift.

Finding the girl’s mother was proving difficult, however. It was as if Donella had vanished without a trace. Sheriff Hollister followed up on all the local leads, scouring home surveillance cameras, interviewing local gig drivers and rental car staff. Nothing turned up. The sheriff’s buddies out west were still investigating leads, but, so far, not even a whisker, as his granddad would say. It was almost as if someone was punking him.

Not for the first time in the last year and a half, Tanner wished he could call Tristan. His brother always claimed to have the higher functioning brain. Tanner could use a different perspective right now. Of course, his brother would always find the funny, lighter side to any situation. And somehow, he’d find a way to place the blame for everything squarely on Tanner’s shoulders. If it meant Tristan would still be alive, he wouldn’t mind being the butt of the joke this time.

He could always call Tristan’s widow, Melinda. She possessed the same keen sense of humor as her husband. It’s what had made their relationship work. It was no secret that Tristan was far from perfect.

It was two hours earlier in Arizona, though. Melinda likely had her hands full getting sixteen-month-old twins fed and ready for bed.

Twins Tristan never got to meet.

With a growl, he tossed back what remained of his scotch.

His mobile chimed with a call from the guard house at the neighborhood’s front gate.

“Sorry to bother you, Mr. Gillette, but there’s a Dr. Alden Bryant here. He said you are expecting him?”

Tanner glanced at his watch. Alden said he’d call as soon as he got the paternity results. He didn’t expect the doctor to deliver them in person, however.

“Sure,” he said, his curiosity piqued. “Send him along.”

He turned on another lamp in the room before wandering down the hall to check on Whitney. She was lying on her side, her bunny tucked in close to her body. He took some solace that her sleep seemed less restless than in previous nights.

Tanner reached the front door just as Alden was parking his car.

“Sorry to stop by at this time of night,” the doctor said as he entered. “I thought I should go over this with you in person.”

“No problem.” Tanner ignored the uneasy feeling that threatened. This case was cut and dry. There was no way Tanner could be Whitney’s father. He led Alden back to his study. “Things are pretty self-explanatory, though, aren’t they? I mean either someone’s the father or they aren’t.”

“In most cases, yes.”

Tanner felt a big ‘but’ coming. He reached for the bottle of scotch and refilled his glass. “Drink?”

Alden shook his head. “I promised Kate I’d deal with Max tonight.” He pulled a sheet of paper from his messenger bag and handed it to Tanner.

Tanner took a fortifying swallow from his glass before glancing down at the results. He immediately wished he’d downed the entire bottle. “What the fuck is this? This can’t be right. The test is flawed.” He snapped his gaze up to meet Alden’s sympathetic one. “How can this be?”

“We can do another sample,” Alden said. “But these things aren’t usually off by very much.” He paused for a long moment, seeming to choose his next words carefully. “Tanner, if you look at each metric carefully, you’re a very close match. But not an exact match.”

An icy wave washed over Tanner. The glass in his hand felt heavy. It slipped from his fingers, but Alden grabbed it before it hit the floor. The doctor sighed before chugging the rest of the scotch. He carefully placed the glass on the desk.

“It goes without saying that this remains between us,” he said quietly. “Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”

Tanner wasn’t sure how long he stood there, frozen in disbelief. But when the thaw came, it was followed by a searing hot rage. Breathing unsteadily, he marched over to the credenza, picked up a photo of his twin and hurled it at the wall.

* * *

“Have you lost your mind?!”

Paige held her cellphone at arm’s length to prevent Summer’s explosive rant from damaging her eardrum.

“More like my dignity,” she muttered while unpacking her toiletry bag in the Jack and Jill bathroom she was sharing with Whitney. She pushed aside the shower curtain and set the open bottles of shampoo, conditioner and body wash she’d pilfered from the inn on the rim of the tub. It’s not like Patricia could reuse them, she reasoned. Too bad she’d used up all the body lotion after her bath yesterday. The stuff was decadent, with an amazing scent and texture.

“This is serious, Paige. You can’t just move in with a stranger,” Summer protested.

“I’m not ‘moving in’ with anyone. I’m simply taking a nannying gig for a week. One where the only person home is the child.”

Tanner didn’t stay one minute longer than necessary once Paige arrived earlier that morning. The man practically snarled as he slapped down a credit card, the keys to his car, and an emergency contact list on the kitchen counter. The whole ride over, she steeled herself for another one of his cocky triumphant smiles. Instead, she was greeted with a series of grunt-like instructions and nothing resembling a “thank-you” before he took off. For some reason, part of her was disappointed not to have the opportunity to spar with him. The rest of her, though, was taken aback by his unpleasant demeanor, not to mention the dark circles under his bloodshot eyes.

“So now you’re home alone in a strange man’s house?” Summer went on. “Wow. You’re right. That sounds sooo much safer.”

Paige ignored her friend’s sarcasm.

“It’s a gated community. The house has a state-of-the-art alarm system that practically scans my eyeballs when I want to enter. And if all that weren’t enough, you’re forgetting that my dad is the sheriff in this town. I imagine he’ll have his deputies patrolling by here on the hour.”

Her father, of course, was delighted to have Paige sticking around for the week. So much so that he’d put up far less objection to her living in a stranger’s house than Summer was presently giving her.

“Why couldn’t you and Whitney stay at the inn?” Summer asked.

Because it was only a matter of time before Paige’s story reached her father’s ears. And those of the rest of the McAlister family. She’d rather have a buffer of at least a couple of miles when that embarrassment came raining down, thank you very much.

Paige glanced into the opposite bedroom where the little girl was quietly coloring. She lowered her voice. “Whitney has had too much upheaval already. This is a better plan.”

Summer grumbled something unintelligible. “Do you think Tanner is telling the truth? That he doesn’t know the mother? Because clearly, she knows him. You don’t just pick a random celebrity out of a hat and drop off your kid at the country club where he’s playing golf.”

“Yeah.” Paige sighed. “No doubt he’s leaving a lot of the story out. I’d like to say I’m surprised, but nothing about the male species surprises me anymore. I’ve found it’s best not to believe a word they say.”

“Not all men are that way,” Summer said.

“Not all, no. You’ve found one of the few who isn’t a lying, cheating SOB. But the good guys seem to be few and far between these days.”

Something feeling a lot like despondency settled in Paige’s chest. She wanted what Summer had. What Patricia McAlister had with her father. Heck, what the woman’s children likely had with their mates and significant others. But she doubted she’d ever be able to trust a man again. And she certainly didn’t trust Tanner Gillette to tell the truth.

“More than likely, Mr. Gillette hasn’t paid his child support and momma wanted a little vacay. So, she dropped her kid off with her baby daddy the kid has never met.” She slammed her hairbrush onto the counter in disgust. “But let’s not forget, Whitney is an innocent in all of this. Her well-being takes priority over everything else. And caring for little ones is what I do best.”

“You do,” Summer said. “And she’s lucky to have you. I feel a little better now, knowing there won’t be a sexy golfer coming on to you at every turn. From what I read about him online, he’s quite the playboy. Do you know what they call him on the tour? Mr. Swipe Right or Tanner Tinder. Rumor has it he has a woman in every city. He seems to be as proficient at charming the panties off women as he is with his putter.”

Paige snorted. “You’re forgetting who you’re talking to, Sum. I’m immune to charming liars, remember? Don’t you worry. I’m never giving another guy like that access to my heart again.”

* * *

After settlinginto one of the guest rooms, Paige inspected the rest of the house. Whitney and her bunny silently shadowed her. The rooms were large and elegantly decorated.

“I’ll bet this was a model home for the community at one time and Tanner just left everything as is,” she said to Whitney.

A screened porch stretched along one side of the back of the house. The yard looked to be the fairway from a golf course.

“No going out back without a helmet on,” she warned Whitney. “I don’t want you taking a golf ball to the noggin.”

The little girl’s eyes went wide as she nodded.

The great room was a bit stuffy for Paige’s taste, with its white sofas, perfectly placed pillows, and sterile artwork. It had a fabulous view of the golf course, however, thanks to an entire wall of windows.

“I wonder how many times one of those have been cracked with an errant golf ball.”

Whitney moved in close to inspect the windowpanes.

There was a study off the great room. Paige took a peek inside. It was the only part of the house with any personal articles. Photos of Tanner holding various trophies hung on the walls. The trophies themselves were displayed on the built-in bookshelves.

A hallway leading to the opposite end of the house likely contained Tanner’s bedroom. Paige was proud of herself for resisting the urge to snoop. Instead, she steered Whitney toward the huge kitchen at the back of the house.

“Well, we won’t starve,” she announced to the little girl after cataloging the contents of the fridge and the pantry. “Tanner’s housekeeper keeps this place well-stocked. What I don’t see, though, is any ice cream.”

Whitney’s face lit up.

“We can’t have a week-long slumber party without some, can we?”

A slow grin formed on the little girl’s lips as she shook her head.

“You look like a cookies and cream kind of girl to me.”

Whitney nodded and Paige held out her fist for a fist bump. “Atta girl. Me, too. But I’ll never say no to Ben and Jerry’s Fudge Brownie. How about we go to the store and grab some ice cream and a few things to keep us entertained this week?”

There was one of those big box discount stores on the way into town. She could pick up ice cream and some puzzles and games to occupy Whitney with one stop. The little girl didn’t have a bathing suit or swim floaties, either. Paige may not be going to Myrtle Beach, but she was determined to return to Chicago with a tan. And Tanner’s ritzy neighborhood had four pools to choose from. They’d just go to a different one every day.

She grabbed the keys to the car, along with the credit card, from the counter and headed for the garage, only to stop short.

“Seriously? He left me a Porsche to drive?”

The only car sitting in the three-car garage was a two-door 718 Boxster coupe in candy-apple red. Paige’s pulse danced with excitement. She’d been driving since the age of thirteen. Her stepbrothers were both dirt-track junkies and saw no reason why their little sister shouldn’t be able to enjoy the sport, too. As a result, Paige could drive just about any vehicle, under any type of conditions.

Too bad she hadn’t paid much attention to the mechanics and upkeep of the cars. She might not be stuck in Chances Inlet if she had. But maybe things were looking up. Driving a Porsche was on her bucket list. Given the car’s ridiculous price, she never thought her dream would come true.

She practically skipped over to the driver’s side and carefully opened the door. “It even smells luxurious. This is going to be so much fun.” She ran her hand over the leather seat reverently before lowering herself into it.

The sound of rubber soles squeaking on the Epoxy floor brought Paige back to reality. Whitney shuffled up next to the open door, her bunny clutched to her chest. Paige eyed the only other seat in the car—the passenger seat. Even if Tanner Gillette did own a child’s booster—the very idea was laughable—there was no way she was going to allow the little girl to ride upfront. It was way too dangerous. Not to mention against the law.

Sighing, she propped her forehead against the leather-trimmed steering wheel. “Just when I think I’ve found some luck, fate keeps snatching it away.”

Her father informed her this morning that her car would be ready the following afternoon. Too bad that didn’t help her today. Walking five miles to the big box store was out of the question. It was only two miles to the center of historic Chances Inlet, however.

Yesterday, she’d spied an ice cream stand and a bookstore. There was also a little park by the water. They could make an afternoon out of it. Tonight, Paige could order anything else they needed online. Including a booster seat. It would cost a fortune for a rush delivery, but she had no remorse sticking the rich professional athlete with the bill.

“How about the three of us take a walk to get some ice cream?” Paige would likely be carrying the child on her back half the way, but it beat sitting around the house.

Whitney squared her shoulders and gave Paige an enthusiastic nod. Paige pulled her sunscreen from her backpack and dabbed some on both their faces. The little girl grinned softly when Paige pretended to rub some on her bunny’s ears.

“Now, all we need are some hats.”

Fortunately, Tanner’s sponsors kept him well-stocked in that area. Paige grabbed two from a box of new ones sitting on a shelf by the mudroom door. The brim covered Whitney’s eyes, so Paige flipped it around.

“No red neck for you!” Grabbing two bottles of water from the fridge, she took the little girl by the hand and headed for the garage’s side door. Whitney suddenly began dragging her feet. She tugged on Paige’s hand and pointed to a flat cart stacked with bags of mulch.

“Oh my gosh, you are a genius!”

Paige unloaded the four bags and went back into the house to grab a beach towel. She spread the towel on top of the metal cart and bowed down to Whitney.

“Your chariot awaits, Princess.”

Whitney climbed aboard, her bright smile her biggest one yet. Paige felt a little wave of disappointment she wasn’t able to coax a giggle from the little girl. For some reason, it was important that she be the one to unlock Whitney’s voice. And she wanted to do it by the time Tanner returned. He may have blackmailed her to stay with Whitney, but Paige was always a “make lemonade out of lemons” type of girl. Her professional pride was on the line. Not to mention getting the little girl to open up and tell her where to find her mother would give her the upper hand with Tanner Gillette.

Less than an hour later, they were both sitting cross-legged on the cart, enjoying ice cream cones and the shade of the century old live oak tree in the Chances Inlet square.

“Do you have a favorite bedtime story?” Paige asked as she wiped Whitney’s hands with a wet wipe.

Whitney’s face dimmed slightly, but she nodded.

Paige felt crappy because now the girl was probably thinking of her mother.

“How about we go into the bookstore to see if they have a copy. Then we can read it together tonight.”

They entered the Whale of a Tale Bookstore to the happy tinkling of bells. Dust motes danced in the sunlight streaming through the big picture window. A woman of Asian descent was crouched in the window case organizing a display of spring and Easter books.

“Hello there,” she greeted them. “Welcome in.”

Another woman, this one wearing a dress circa the 1950-s with a full shirt and matching scarf came out from behind the counter. She bent over to meet Whitney eyes. “You must be the little girl that handsome fella was looking for yesterday. He said you had a distinguished looking bunny. Your daddy was very worried about you, sweetheart.”

Whitney slipped behind Paige’s leg.

“Oh my gosh, Lou, you’re scaring the poor thing.” The Asian woman crawled out from the display, dusted off her jeans and held out a hand to Paige. “Apologies. I’m Denise. And this is my wife, Lou. We were actually very worried about your daughter yesterday until Deputy Lovell came by to tell us she’d been found.”

Paige was stunned by the two ladies’ assumption. “Oh, no, she’s not my daughter. I’m her . . . um . . .nanny.” She didn’t dare give out any additional details. It wasn’t that she wanted to protect Tanner’s reputation as much as it was that she wanted to keep Whitney’s situation private.

“Ah,” Denise said as if it all made perfect sense.

Both pairs of eyes didn’t seem as convinced.

“I see a copy of The Velveteen Rabbit in the window,” Paige said, trying to steer the conversation back to safer ground. “Do you have a copy I can buy?”

“Do we ever,” Lou replied and cocked her hip. “They’re right back here in our children’s section.”

She led them to the rear of the store where the shelves were lower—easier for little bodies to reach. A child-size table took up the middle of the section, the surrounding floor covered in brightly covered cushions. There was an actual fainting couch to one side with small pillows shaped like books littering one end.

“Wow, this is amazing,” Paige said.

Lou pressed her hands together. “Isn’t it? I copied several elements from a shop I visited in Sweden. Its children’s section was four times this size and aways teeming with kids.” She tsked softly. “We haven’t quite gotten to that level of patronage yet.”

“There, there.” Denise patted Lou’s shoulder. “I have to keep reminding her this is a beach town. The kids who come here are more interested in sand toys and boogie boards.”

“That’s why it’s important we promote the puzzles,” Lou said. “Did you put the Easter egg puzzle in the window?”

She hurried off to the display window, presumably to check. Denise shrugged. “It’s always been her dream to open a bookstore. I promised her we would have our own when I retired from my job as a set designer. We couldn’t afford a space back home in Manhattan.” She spread her arms wide. “So here we are.”

“How long have you been open?”

“A little over a year. Not everything in life turns out as picture-perfect as we dream it should be,” Denise said, cryptically.

Paige huffed. “Don’t I know it.”

Whitney pulled several books from the shelves and piled them on the fainting couch.

Denise chuckled. “Well, at least she’s enjoying the selection. Stay as long as you like. I’d better go check to see that Lou hasn’t undone all my handiwork.”

The woman walked away just as Whitney crawled up on the couch and patted the place beside her. She held out a book to Paige.

“Ahh, you’ve found one you want me to read, I see.” She settled onto the chaise. “A Bad Case of Stripes! Excellent choice. My students love this one.”

A lump formed in her throat as she thought of someone else reading it to her kindergartners. Whitney nestled in against her, as if sensing Paige’s sadness.

“We’re both gonna be okay,” Paige whispered. She drew in a deep breath, transitioned to her teacher voice and began to read about Camilla Cream and her love of lima beans.