The photo in the newspaper sitting on the edge of the table
distracted Rafe. The woman looked familiar. Pulling the
newspaper closer, he took a second look and immediately
identified the woman in the background of the photo.
Tabitha.
His gut twisted as a half dozen emotions ambushed him. He
knew that silky blond hair even though it was darker now,
those sexy blue eyes, that body designed to make a man
insane. And, boy, had she known how to use it. She'd wrapped
him around her little finger then nearly squeezed the life
out of him.
"So, this deal must be pretty big to drag you away from
South Beach," his brother Michael said, tugging his
attention back to the here and now.
"I don't mind traveling for the right customer. This
client purchased two premium yachts and has some friends who
want to lease." Rafe also didn't mind taking business
away from Livingstone Yachts. In fact, he enjoyed every
minute of torturing Tabitha's father, but he would keep that
to himself. "What about you? Business looks good,"
Rafe said, glancing around the bar that his brother had
turned into Atlanta's newest hotspot. He shook his head.
"Michael's magic touch again."
Michael gave a rough chuckle. "You know better than
that. It's me working my butt off."
"The way of the Medicis," Rafe said and thought of
their oldest brother, Damien. "Damien would agree, but
only to a certain extent since he's happily married
now." His gaze was drawn again to the copy of The
Atlanta-Constitution. He couldn't believe he'd foolishly
considered a future with Tabitha.
"Hey, you're not listening to a word I'm saying,"
Michael said. "What are you looking at?"
Rafe narrowed his eyes, spotting the small boy standing
beside Tabitha. Couldn't be more than four or five years old
he thought. The lying woman had been seeing someone else at
the same time she'd been burning up his bed, he thought in
disgust. He'd caught her trying to seduce one of his clients.
"Do you know the guy in the wheelchair?" Michael asked.
"What—" Rafe paused and perused the article
featuring a Marine veteran making a new life despite
extensive disabilities. What the hell was Tabitha doing with
him? She was a spoiled rich girl.
He frowned and studied the photo again. The little boy had
brown, curly hair and stood shyly beside her leg. Rafe did
the math and cold realization rushed through him. The boy
looked like a Medici. Despite the fact that she was a
cheater, he could be his son.
"Rafe, you're acting weird as hell," his brother
said, his voice tinged with alarm.
"Yeah, well—" He shook his head and pointed to
the article. "You know where this place is?"
Michael lifted his brow. "Yeah, not the nicest
neighborhood in town. You probably don't want to spend a lot
of time there after dark."
Rafe glanced at his watch. Eleven o'clock. Damn. He clenched
his fist. He would find out if he had a son or not.
"What's going on?" Michael asked.
"I'm not sure, but I'm damn well going to find out first
thing in the morning."
Nicole Livingstone pulled her coat around her body more
tightly to ward off the January weather. Even though Atlanta
was in the South, winter temperatures could dip into the
thirties. She headed for her car, noticing a tall, handsome
man walking along the same sidewalk toward her.
If she'd been the type to flirt, now would be the time. The
man's broad shoulders were encased in a black leather jacket
and he walked with a powerful and purposeful gait. His dark
hair was tousled by the wind. Strong eyebrows framed his
dark eyes. His cheeks held a tinge of color from the chill.
The only downside was that his full mouth was set in a
straight hard line, as if he were displeased and going to do
something about it.
She averted her gaze.
"Tabitha," the man said, stopping in front of her.
"Tabitha Livingstone."
Nicole whipped her gaze up to meet his, stunned that he
would know her sister's name. "I'm not—"
"Don't try to fool me," he said. "You and I knew
each other very well."
Nicole took a short breath, caught between disappointment
and trepidation. Being mistaken for her twin had happened to
her too many times to count, but not since her sister had
died. The problem was that Nicole was never sure exactly how
Tabitha had treated the person confronting her. Since her
sister had died a few years ago, hearing the mistake came as
a shock.
"My name is Nicole Livingstone. I'm Tabitha's twin."
She watched the man digest the news. Disbelief, then
confusion crossed his face. "She never told me about a
twin."
Nicole's uneasy laugh stuck in her throat. "She liked to
keep it a surprise, so if she ever needed to refer to her
evil twin…"
"Hmm," he said, his brow furrowing. He rubbed his
chin. "Where is she?"
Nicole bit her lip. A stab of pain took her by surprise.
Just when she thought she'd adjusted to the loss of her
sister, she found out she hadn't. "She died three years
ago."
His eyes widened in shock. "I didn't know."
She nodded. "She got a terrible infection and the
doctors couldn't help her. People thought she was so
headstrong that she could survive anything. It was a huge
shock to us."
"I'm very sorry for your loss," he said, but she saw
a hardness in his eyes. He extended his hand to her.
She took it and was immediately struck by his warmth and
strength. His hand felt good around hers. "Thank you.
And you are?"
"Rafe," he said. "Rafe Medici."
The world seemed to tilt sideways. Her heart hammered in her
chest as if someone had set off a fire alarm inside her. It
took a moment for her to remove her hand from his.
She needed to get away from him. As fast as she possibly
could. She took a deep breath and stepped backward.
"Thank you again. Good-bye."
She started to walk around him, but he brushed her arm with
his hand. Biting the inside of her lip, she paused and
looked at the space between his eyes instead of meeting his
gaze.
"In the newspaper, I saw a photograph of you with a
child. Was he Tabitha's?"
"He's mine," she said, feeling her blood rush to her
head. "Joel is mine."
"Did Tabitha have a child before she died?"
"Joel is mine. I need to go," she said and walked
down the sidewalk to her Camry Hybrid parked in the lot. Her
heart pounding a mile a minute, she unlocked the door and
slid inside. She started to close the door, but Rafe Medici
appeared beside her and caught it.
"Mr. Medici," she said, terror whipping through her.
"My father died when I was very young. It was a terrible
loss. I would not want that for a son of mine."
The humanity in the man's expression caught her off guard.
Her sister had described him as possessing a monster ego.
Nicole shot a look at the large hand that prevented her
departure. "Please step away from my vehicle. I need to
leave," she managed in a voice she'd developed to freeze
out arguments with uncooperative healthcare agencies.
She felt his assessing gaze as he slowly moved his hand. Not
easily intimidated. Why should she be surprised? He stood
over a half foot taller than her and with those wide
shoulders and well-developed muscles she'd glimpsed as his
jacket swung open, he could probably bench press three of her.
"Later," he said.
Nicole pulled her door shut and peeled out of the parking
lot. Later. She certainly hoped not.
Now that Joel was ready to turn four, she'd thought they
were in the clear. After all, there'd been no sign of Rafe
Medici at her sister's funeral. No flowers. Nothing.
Droplets of cold sweat forming on her skin, she exited on to
the interstate, her mind whirling.
Nicole maintained a low profile. It had been easy for her.
Tabitha had been the flashy one, and that had been fine with
Nicole. Now, after all this time, she'd taken Joel to meet
one of her patient clients to see his dinosaur model
collection. A reporter writing stories about disabled
veterans had surprised them and captured the three of them
in a photograph, which had been published in the newspaper.
Of all the dumb luck.
Clenching her fingers over the steering wheel, she wondered
if she should take Joel and leave immediately. He was a shy
little guy, though, and seemed to be flourishing in his
pre-school class.
She remembered the look of determination on Rafe's face and
shuddered. She considered her options. Her mother lived on
the other side of the world—France, in fact. Nicole
and Joel could disappear there, at least for a while. Her
mother, however, led an active social life and having a
preschooler around would cramp her style.
Tabitha would have turned to their father and performed a
butter-him-up act worthy of an Oscar in order to get money
from him. Nicole limited her involvement with her father as
much as possible. After what he had done…
She took a deep breath to calm herself. She'd always been
told she was the practical twin. Something would come to
her. No matter what, she would protect Joel at all costs.
She was lying, Rafe thought as he watched her tear out of
the parking lot. He felt a tingling sensation in his left
hand that had served as a warning throughout his life. The
woman would be trouble. Perhaps more trouble than Tabitha
had been. If that were possible.
Tabitha had acted as if she'd enjoyed living with him, but
soon enough he'd learned that all she wanted from him was
his money. To this day, he didn't understand her greed.
After all, her father was very wealthy. He remembered the
way she'd begged him to let her sell a few of his yachts.
He'd indulged her, secretly enjoying the fact that he was
one-upping the mighty Conrad Livingstone via the man's
daughter. The joke had backfired, though. She'd lied to him
in order to pad her commission then tried to seduce one of
his customers, a Spanish prince. Unsuccessfully.
Narrowing his eyes as the wind whipped around him, he walked
toward his rental car. It shouldn't be difficult to find out
the truth about Tabitha, Nicole and Joel.
Sliding into the car, he started the engine then dialed his
brother.
"Hey, Rafe. What's up?" his brother Michael asked.
"I need the name of a good P.I. who is thorough, fast
and discreet," he said.
"Okay. This wouldn't have anything to do with your bad
mood last night, would it?"
"Maybe," Rafe said.
"Does this mean you'll be staying an extra night at my
place?"
"Yeah, unless it's a problem," Rafe said.
"No, but I'll be gone most of the time. I just found a
new business that I can buy cheap. You want to tell me what
all this is about?" Michael asked.
"After I find out. Text me the phone number," Rafe
said grimly. He wanted answers and he would get them.
After he received an initial report from his P.I., Rafe met
with an attorney. "How much can Nicole Livingstone fight
me for custody?"
The attorney shook his head. "She can fight, but unless
she can prove you're an unfit parent, then she won't win.
All you need is a paternity test that proves you're the
boy's father. It's easy enough to get a court order for
that."
Rafe thought about the years he'd been cheated from knowing
his son, all because of the Livingstones. Bitterness surged
through him. "These people have deceived me in the worst
way. I want to take Joel away as soon as possible."
The attorney lifted his hand. "Not so fast."
"Why not?" Rafe demanded. "You just told me I
can get custody without a problem."
"True," the man said. "But you have to remember
the well-being of your son. Do you really want to rip him
away from the one person he's known since birth? From all
appearances, Nicole Livingstone has taken excellent care of
Joel. Would you agree?"
"Yes," he said grudgingly.
"Legally, you may have the right to take him away so
that he never sees Nicole again, but you need to consider
what's best for Joel. How is he going to feel about being
taken away from the woman he knows as his mother?"
Rafe felt a gut-wrenching twist at the thought. He had been
through a very similar experience—losing his parents
and his family when he was a child, although not so young.
The traumatic event had left him feeling lost for years.
Despite his grudge against the Livingstones, he had to
concede that Nicole Livingstone had been a loving mother to
Joel.
She seemed different from Tabitha, but it was too soon for
him to be sure. He found it difficult to believe that she
could be so different from Tabitha and their father,
especially since she hadn't bothered to inform Rafe about Joel.
Another surge of bitterness burned through him. He was in a
position to pull off the ultimate revenge with the
Livingstones. He could take Joel away and they would never
see him again. Ultimate revenge was a gratifying prospect,
but selfish. He had a son to think about now. The knowledge
blew him away every time he thought of it.
Nicole could be useful. An image of her slid across his
mind. She certainly wasn't his usual type. She wasn't the
least bit flashy and kept her sensuality under wraps.
Something about the woman made him curious in a sexual way.
He suspected that when she let loose, she could be
explosive. It would take the right man to light her fuse. In
other circumstances, he would give in to his curiosity, but
something far more important was at stake at the moment. His
son.
The following evening, after dinner and a bath for Joel,
Nicole helped her nephew into his footed pajamas and sat
beside him in his little bed. "Which book do you want me
to read tonight?" she asked.
Her heart squeezed tight as he lifted four books with a
hopeful expression on his sweet face. He may be her nephew
by blood, but in her heart, he was her son. And she'd made
sure of that through the courts.
"Four?" she said. "I thought I was just going to
read two tonight."
"But I like all of these," he said, looking at the
books. The job of narrowing down his choices clearly put him
at a loss.
She sighed. "Okay, but just this once," she said,
knowing she wouldn't be able to hold the line when he asked
her tomorrow night. She suspected she enjoyed these precious
moments with him even more than he did.
He plopped into her lap and opened the first book about a
giant strawberry and the mouse who wanted to eat it.