She didn’t know what else to do. Nina had no one except her…And this man. Her father.
“I still think you’re half-cracked, but I’m listening.” He folded his arms over his chest.
Was he settling in or blocking her exit? Either way, she needed to talk fast.
“Okay, so maybe the marriage idea seems extreme, but I’m desperate here.” Backing off the proposal seemed prudent since she had a serious aversion to ending up in a straitjacket. “My primary concern is keeping Nina secure. She’s already had too much upheaval, with Bianca dropping out of her life so abruptly.”
“This is a lot to digest,” he said, his voice neutral, his eyes still watching her guardedly.
His military aura swelled unmistakably. He might not be thinking of himself as Nina’s father, but he clearly would stand between the baby girl and any perceived threat all the same.
Her frayed nerves snapped. “If you can think of another alternative to keeping her out of the foster care system, I’m more than happy to climb on board.”
He cocked a thick, dark brow. “Excuse me for being slow on the uptake, but I didn’t know until ninety seconds ago that I even had a child.”
“If you’d stayed in touch with Bianca after you deployed, you may have—” She bit her tongue to keep from saying anything else, when she longed to shout out her frustration as she saw her last hope for help slipping away.
His eyebrows slammed down and together. “You can’t actually be blaming me because Bianca kept this a secret. If what you say is even true. I had my hands full fighting a war.”
Her anger defused and sympathy slid into the void. “I’m sorry. You’re right. This is a lot to take in and I don’t mean to be combative.”
His jaw flexed as he paused to gather his composure. “Arguing won’t get us anywhere.”
“I completely agree.”
Still, he kept his post in front of the arbor trellis, sprawling ivy cascading down the sides like spiky tentacles ready to snag her in place. “Regardless of what came before, we need to decide on a plan of action from this point forward, which I absolutely refuse to talk about in a place where anyone could overhear. There are no less than seven people from the press attending this shindig my mother put together to welcome me back.”
He had a point there. While press coverage could be helpful in finding Bianca, it could also bring the wrath of child services down on her head. She had to strike a delicate balance here.
At least Kyle was still talking to her. Maybe he would have an idea, and if not, then she could bring up the marriage idea again with more finesse. It was outrageous, sure, but not that totally out there. She reassured herself for probably the thousandth time that this wasn’t a totally crazy idea. Although she could imagine her long-dead parents wincing over her whole plan.
She’d thought this through. People got hitched in Vegas every day for far more flimsy reasons. Wedding vows meant next to nothing to most people these days.
And they would certainly mean nothing to her ever again.
She started toward him. Their cubby of space went darker as another person strode under the ivy-covered arch, snapping Phoebe back into the present. She needed to be on guard for those press people he’d mentioned. Backlit, the shadowy figure was still obviously a woman.
“Kyle, dear, there you are.” An older blond woman stepped into the glow of the flickering light. She rested a hand on his arm, manicured nails tipped white.
His mother.
Even if Ginger Landis Renshaw weren’t famous for her political prowess as a former senator and then secretary of state, Phoebe would have noticed the family resemblance. Their hair color was different but their faces, their smiles, were the same.
Somewhere in her early fifties and carrying it well, Ginger smoothed a hand over her simple red Chanel evening gown, almost managing to disguise her curiosity. “Our guests are beginning to ask where you’ve run off to.”
“Mom, we need to find an empty room and talk. Immediately.” He stepped aside, clearing the view for the woman’s gaze to fall squarely on Phoebe.
Ginger’s blue eyes darkened from curiosity to concern. “Kyle? What’s going on?”
“Not now, Mom,” he said quietly, his voice urgent. “We need to move this to a room, preferably one with a closed door.”
She straightened with a take-charge efficiency that had won respect around the world during her secretary-of-state days. That political sway continued now in her tenure as ambassador to a small but politically powerful South-American country. “Of course. This way.”
She tucked out of their garden nook and sliced a path straight into the country club. A quick flick of her hand had the manager rushing ahead to unlock his office. Phoebe followed, unable to squelch her awe at this woman who made things happen so effortlessly.
Damn it. Forget awe. She would stand down anyone for Nina if need be. But she hoped she would find an ally in a political powerhouse.
The door clicked closed behind them, sealing them inside an office with looming dark furniture and heavy tapestry upholstery. The scent of furniture polish and fresh-cut flowers coated the air thickly.
Ginger turned toward her son but looked at Phoebe and gestured toward a wingback chair. “Have a seat, dear. Even little babies can grow quite heavy when you’ve been holding them for too long.”
Phoebe blinked back her surprise and sat. Disobeying this woman wouldn’t dawn on her, and her feet were throbbing. All the same, she wouldn’t relax her guard for even a second. Winning his mother’s support was just as important as gaining Kyle’s trust.
Ginger pinned her son with a questioning stare.
He scratched the back of his neck. “Mom, it appears I may have left a child behind when I went to Afghanistan.”
Kyle knew one thing in this crazy, mixed-up night. Give a Landis a crisis and they start things cranking at Mach speed.
He had no more than announced the possibility of this child being his and his mom had spun into action. She’d called for her trusted assistant and gathered the rest of the family. So much for keeping things secret.
With four Landis brothers, two of whom were married, that made for quite a group packed into the country club office. His brother Sebastian sat at the sprawling wood desk, putting his legal eagle-eye and degree to work reviewing the documents. The rest of the family seemed transfixed around the wingback chair where Phoebe fed the little scrap of a kid a bottle. Kyle paced. He damn near wore a hole in the Persian rug as he moved restlessly behind his brother. Sebastian was a year younger than Kyle, but his quiet soberness had always made him seem older. They needed his calm efficiency right now.
Sebastian closed the file and glanced up somberly. “Is she your daughter?”
Kyle stopped in his tracks and dropped to sit on the edge of the desk, his foot twitching. “It’s a distinct possibility.” A possibility that still sucker-punched him harder than the missile that had taken down his aircraft in Afghanistan. He pinched the bridge of his nose briefly before his hand fell away. “If she’s really Bianca Thompson’s daughter, the timing of our, uh, week together lines up.”
“A week, huh?” A rare hint of humor lit his normally serious brother’s eyes.
Kyle wasn’t in the mood to laugh. “We hooked up when I was in between rotations overseas. Neither of us was interested in anything long-term.”
“You never are.” Sebastian looked away and back at the papers.
Yeah, he wasn’t known for serious relationships, but at least he understood himself, rather than sending out mixed signals. “Which makes it all the more ironic that Phoebe would toss out a marriage proposal to me.”
“I think it makes her seem like a more logical type.” Sebastian kept his voice low enough that the cluster of people a few feet away wouldn’t hear. “If she knows your reputation, then she has no reason to worry about you growing attached to her or the baby.”
“She said she only tossed it out there in desperation. That she didn’t really mean it, and could I come up with something else.” Still it rattled around in his head. “You got any suggestions?”
Sebastian scrubbed a hand over his face, a near mirror image of Kyle’s. “I think the first order of business is finding out if she’s really yours. I’ve never been one who could see Great-aunt Whoever’s chin on some infant, but I have to confess, she looks just like a Landis.”
The uncertainty was already chewing him up inside. “Any idea how long it takes for the results of a paternity test?”
“Gotta admit, I’ve never needed one.” His eyes slid over to his wife with obvious affection. Their son had been born a few months ago, a surprise pregnancy after the crushing loss of the baby daughter they’d adopted, only to have the birth mother change her mind. “Jonah should know, though.”
Their youngest brother had always been a hell-raiser, so much so that after a while it became tough to distinguish between truth and reputation. Kyle had always understood his younger brother better than the rest of the family, although the military had helped him rein in his wilder impulses.
And yet still, somehow, he may have screwed up. “The sooner we can clear this up, the better.”
“What do you know about her?” Sebastian nodded toward Phoebe, who was lifting the baby up to burp, a hand towel from the bathroom draped over her shoulder.
“Nothing at all.” Kyle flipped open the manila file folder again and thumbed through the papers. “I’d never met her, but those photos of her with Bianca look real.”
“The private investigator I keep on retainer will be able to verify her story by morning. The fact that she lives and works in state makes things easier all the way around.” Sebastian tapped the documents spilling out across the desk. “Everything seems authentic and in order though. We’ll see soon.”
Not soon enough. “So, we’re stuck for now.” Kyle lowered his voice, even though no one across the room seemed to be paying any attention to them. “Either she’s on the up-and-up helping out a friend, in which case she needs help, so the baby stays. Or she’s a nutcase, in which case for the baby’s safety, she has to stay.”
“Be careful, my brother.” Sebastian leaned closer. “There’s a lot of money at stake here.”
Sebastian’s wife glanced over her shoulder. “Men are so cynical.”
Damn, he could have sworn they were keeping their voices down. Could Phoebe have overheard them too? Not that they’d really said anything that mattered. She should expect they would have her investigated.
The wife of their oldest brother, Matthew, stepped aside, opening the circle as she caressed the slight curve of her stomach. “They’re right to be concerned,” Ashley said. “I’ve seen some sad cases of how heartless people can be when it comes to the needs of a child.”
Their youngest brother, Jonah, snorted, lounging on the other wingback chair, one leg draped over the armrest. “Who are you condemning here? The baby’s mother or Phoebe?”