Valerie Parv – The Billionaire's Baby Chase (страница 2)

His friend dragged his eyes away from the picture as if the effort cost him a great deal. The look he turned on Bill burned with purpose. “By the time I get back to my office, I’ll have absolute confirmation that she’s my daughter. Then I want to see her, find out how she’s been living since she was taken away. This woman, Zoe Holden, apparently fostered her when her family couldn’t be traced.”

“So she doesn’t know who the child belongs to?” A sigh gusted past Bill’s lips as James shook his head. “This will come as quite a shock to her.”

James’s hands balled into fists before he made an obvious effort to relax them. “I’m well aware of how it’s going to feel. I’ve been there, remember?”

“Maybe you should let the authorities handle the initial approach,” Bill suggested, knowing it was futile as soon as James flashed him a fierce look.

“If I’d left this to the authorities, I’d still be waiting,” he said. “This time I’ll handle it my way.” He flicked the folder closed. “Zoe Holden is a property manager with a local real estate agency. As it happens, my firm has been looking for somewhere to house executives visiting from overseas and her agency has been advertising a suitable place. I’ve arranged to inspect the property. It will give me the perfect opportunity to find out what this Zoe Holden is like and what sort of home she’s been providing for Genevieve.”

Bill whistled soundlessly. “Sounds a bit cloak-and-dagger to me, but it’s one way to check her out without tipping your hand. When will you see her?”

James consulted the gold Rolex gleaming on his tanned wrist. “I have an appointment with her this afternoon. As you’ve spent the morning drumming into me, I don’t have the luxury of time to waste. The sooner I get my daughter back, the sooner you can operate. Do we have a deal?”

The doctor frowned. “You can’t bargain with your health, but if you follow my orders and take things easy, maybe you can postpone the operation a little longer. Lord knows, you’re stubborn enough. And if there is a chance of getting Genevieve back, I can’t stand in your way. Now get out of here. I have sick people waiting who are willing to let me help them.”

In spite of a lingering headache courtesy of the doctor’s poking and prodding, James managed to whistle as he strode through the waiting rooms and headed for the elevator that would deliver him to the underground car park.

Back in his car again he reached for the photo supplied by the private investigator. He must have studied it a hundred times since it was delivered until every detail was burned into his memory, but he still hadn’t tired of it. After eighteen months of enduring a wrenching sense of loss every time he set eyes on a four-year-old, he was entitled to feel elated at the sight of this particular child. From her huge dark eyes to a smile that could light up a room by itself, everything about her screamed a rightness he could feel deep inside. This was his daughter. He knew it.

But this time he found his eyes drawn to the woman holding the pony and a different kind of awareness clawed through him, astonishing him with its power and unexpectedness. She was beautiful. Not the kind of beauty you saw on magazine covers, but rather more natural, with a vibrancy that invited attention. Unaware she was being photographed, she looked relaxed and happy, dressed for the beach in figure-hugging shorts and a skimpy T-shirt. James had a momentary vision of himself clasping her around that incredibly slender waist and whirling her around into the air, just to find out if her laugh was as silvery as her smile promised.

Nerves leapt along his spine, aggravating the tender spot where the bullet was lodged in the side of his neck and the jolt of pain brought him back to reality. He took deep, steadying breaths until the pain passed, telling himself all the while that his reaction to the woman was a result of seeing her with his child. That was all it was and all it could ever be. Because once she found out who he was and what he wanted she would sooner cut out his heart than waste a smile on James Langford.

Chapter One

The child planted tiny fists on small hips. “Mummy, what’s a spitting image?”

Zoe looked up from the property brief she was studying and suppressed a smile. “It means a person who looks very much like somebody else. Where did you hear that?”

Genie frowned. “Simon’s mummy says he’s the spitting image of his daddy.” She paused, wrinkling her face in concentration. “Am I the spitting image of you?”

Zoe fought to keep her feelings from registering on her face. Genie was far from being her spitting image. The child was as dark as she herself was fair. Genie’s eyes, fixed expectantly on her, were a vivid blue in contrast to her own eyes, which were the color of autumn leaves.

A heart-wrenching rush of love for those self-same features tore through Zoe, making her eyes blur with tears of happiness and gratitude. She was blessed to have the chance to be a mother to a child as beautiful both in looks and nature as Genie. They didn’t have to look alike to share a bond she could feel like a steel filament stretching between them.

To cover the torrent of emotions flooding through her, she ruffled Genie’s thick chestnut hair, so unlike her own tangle of straw-colored curls. “You don’t need to be anyone’s spitting image, sweetheart. You’re a beautiful, precious one-of-a-kind.”

Genie sighed heavily. “I don’t want a mummy who went away. I want to be borned your little girl so I could be your spitting image.”

Zoe felt another jolt deep inside her even as she masked the reaction with a loving smile. Genie so seldom mentioned her real mother that it came as a shock to be reminded of the reality.

She was annoyed with herself for reacting badly to the reminder now, instead of counting her blessings. A child was one blessing her ill-fated marriage to Andrew hadn’t bestowed, although she had dreamed of it long and hard enough. There was nothing physically wrong, doctor after doctor had assured her, not unless you counted deep unhappiness. But Andrew’s jealous behavior had frozen something deep inside her.

Her life had settled onto a much more even keel since her husband died, although she still shuddered to think of how quickly everything had changed. He simply hadn’t believed she was attending a business seminar with a workmate. Convinced she was on her way to meet a man, Andrew had followed her, slamming his car into a telegraph pole in his unseeing rage. He had died instantly.

Zoe no longer allowed herself to dream of an ideal relationship, although the longing for a child of her own was harder to subdue. That she hadn’t even been close to managing it had become obvious the day she got the chance to foster Genie and love her as her own. No child could have been more cherished.

Zoe set the folder aside and took Genie’s chubby hands in her own. “Don’t I tell you almost every day that you are my little girl in every way that matters and I love you very, very much?” The child nodded solemnly and Zoe pulled in a deep breath. “Do you remember the teddy bear I made for your last birthday?”

Genie nodded again. “Yes.”

“And Big Ted that Santa brought you before that?”

“When I was little,” Genie confirmed so seriously that Zoe had to make an effort not to laugh.

“Do you love Big Ted any less because I didn’t make him for you?”

Genie looked affronted at the very idea. “’Course not. I love both my teddies zackly the same.”

Zoe enveloped the child in a hug, feeling her eyes threatening to brim again. “Now you know how I feel about you. You’re my special little girl and it doesn’t matter one bit that you didn’t grow inside me.”

“Or if Santa brought me.” Genie finished on a triumphant note. Then she added more hopefully, “Maybe if I asked Santa—”

“Santa doesn’t bring children,” Zoe interjected before Genie could embellish the notion. “Any more than he brought you.”

Genie chewed her lower lip. “I know, but it would be fun if he could bring me a baby brother or sister.”

A pang gripped Zoe. She knew just how Genie felt. Maybe she was getting greedy, but sometimes her arms ached to hold a baby and feel its mouth nuzzling against her breast. The desire for another child to grow with Genie, to share her games and discoveries, and the outpouring of maternal love Zoe knew she had to offer was almost more than she could bear. Not for the first time she made herself count her blessings. She had Genie to love and care for, and it was more than she had ever dreamed would be hers. She managed a tremulous smile. “Speaking of fun, isn’t it time you got ready to go to playgroup?”

To Zoe’s intense relief, the distraction worked as it usually did. “Are you coming, too?” Genie demanded, all thoughts of Santa and babies miraculously forgotten.

Zoe wished she could distract herself so easily. She shook her head. “Simon’s mummy is taking you both today.” Simon’s mother, Julie, lived next door and was Zoe’s friend and self-appointed morale officer. “I have to show a house to a nice man who’s coming all the way from the country to see it.”