“How do we even know she belongs to you?” Andrew said. “You could have borrowed her to pull a scam.”
Hugh wanted to kick his brother. Whatever Andrew’s opinion of the woman, he shouldn’t speak so harshly in front of the little girl. “The whole question can be resolved by a DNA test,” he said quietly.
This was the point at which he expected Meg to feign outrage. With her unruly hair and flashing amber eyes, she could make a great show of being offended.
Of course, she’d never really had a chance of conning him. A doctor wouldn’t buy a story like hers without proof, but this woman and whoever had encouraged her might be too unsophisticated to realize that.
She visibly fought to subdue the anger smoldering in her gaze. “All right. What do you need? A blood sample?”
Her agreement startled Hugh. Maybe she honestly believed him to be her missing husband.
“That would suffice.” He turned to Andrew. “Would you draw blood for us?”
“You’re joking, right?” said his brother. “You’re not going to dignify this nonsense by submitting to a test!”
Hugh supposed it was insulting to have to go to such lengths to defend himself. He might have withdrawn his offer, except for the tears trembling on the little girl’s lashes.
The grown-ups’ arguing clearly had upset her. He’d always been empathetic toward children, and this girl’s wistfulness touched him deeply.
“What harm can it do? And it will resolve the matter completely.” To Meg, he said, “It’ll take about a week to get the results.”
“I can wait.” While Andrew went to find syringes, Hugh rolled up his sleeve and swabbed his arm with alcohol. He did the same for Dana, while explaining gently that it would hurt a little but was for a good cause.
She believed him instantly. As he leaned close, he inhaled her scent, a blend of baby powder and freshness. The aroma brought a scene vividly to mind.
It was a small room, patchily decorated with flowered curtains and a Minnie Mouse poster. A woman with bushy red hair sat in a rocking chair, nursing a baby.
Maybe it was a scene from a movie, except that it had been summoned to mind by a scent, and movies didn’t have scents. As for Meg’s hair, his mind might be filling in details from the present, Hugh told himself.
“What?” the woman asked. “Are you remembering something?”
Her face was close to his, the eyes wide, the lips parted. Hugh got a sudden urge to kiss the freckles on her nose. He pulled back.
“No. I haven’t eaten lunch yet. I get distracted when I don’t eat.”
“I know,” she said. “You always carried mints for between meals.”
There was a roll of mints in his coat pocket right now. Hugh wondered if she had seen the bulge and guessed at its cause. If so, she was very sharp.
Andrew returned with the equipment. Expressionlessly, he drew blood while Meg hovered over her daughter. The little girl winced but didn’t cry out. After he finished, Meg handed Hugh a scrap of paper with a phone number. “Please call me when the results come in.”
“Our lawyer will call you,” Andrew said.
“She’s either his daughter or she isn’t!” the woman answered. “If she is, that proves he’s my husband. I don’t see why anyone needs a lawyer.”
“If by some bizarre chance you did manage to snare my brother while he wasn’t in his right mind, it isn’t legal,” Andrew said. “You admitted he was using a false ID. You’re married to someone who doesn’t exist.”
“I—” She stared at him in distress. “I never thought of that.”
Her mouth trembled as if she might cry. Before any tears could fall, she gathered her daughter and left.
Once her footsteps had faded away, Andrew said, “You don’t believe a word of this, do you?”
“I can’t dismiss it out of hand.” Hugh’s skin tingled with the memory of the woman’s nearness. He couldn’t explain why he felt such a powerful response to a stranger, and yet it was hard to imagine that the two of them had anything in common.
Except, possibly, for one very sweet little girl.
“We should get the results by next Wednesday,” Andrew said. “Until then, put her out of your mind.”
Hugh wondered if that was possible.
Chapter Three
On the long drive back to Mercy Canyon, Meg battled annoyance and embarrassment as she mentally replayed her meeting with the two doctors. Fortunately, her much-repaired old car rattled along steadily, although the radio was broken and she had to keep the window down to cool the interior.
The brother—Andrew Menton, she remembered from seeing his name on the door—had made her feel sleazy. As for Hugh Menton, he was her Joe right down to his fancy vocabulary and the small scar on his temple. His reserved manner and even temper matched the man she knew, as well.
Meg had instantly recognized the masculine timbre of his voice and the endearing way he ducked his head. When he came close, she’d caught a whiff of the man who’d thrilled her every time he held her. The man she knew with every inch of her body.
Yet he was a complete stranger.
Joe had been an ordinary working guy, blue-collar like her. A man who went bowling with friends and shared the trailer she’d bought with her hard-earned money.
It was doubtful that Dr. Hugh Menton had ever set foot in a trailer. Not unless he’d conked his head and completely lost his marbles, which, when they got the DNA results, was how he would no doubt account for having fathered a child with Meg.
She remembered her first reaction on seeing the newspaper photo, when her brother, Tim, brought it back from L.A. “A doctor?” she’d said. “Look at him in that tuxedo! Come on. My Joe would never rent a tuxedo to go to a dinner.”
Sam, the owner of the Back Door Cafe, had peered over her shoulder at the clipping. “He probably owns the tuxedo.”
“Can you own one?” Tim asked. “I thought you just rented them for special occasions.”
Judy Hartman, Sam’s wife, had poured more coffee for a customer before responding, “I bet you could buy one used, after you rented it.”
“A doctor wouldn’t need to buy a used tuxedo,” Sam said.
They’d debated the topic for a few more minutes before new arrivals at the cafe demanded their attention. Looking back, Meg felt her cheeks get hot.
She could imagine the sneer on Andrew Menton’s face if he had heard their discussion. Having seen that expensive office with its big fish tank, thick carpet and elaborate play area, she didn’t doubt that both doctors owned tuxedoes. Heck, they probably put one on to take out the trash.
She grinned at the image of snobbish Andrew Menton in a tuxedo, carrying a smelly bag of trash. Except that his family must hire servants to do that kind of thing.
She and Hugh lived in different worlds. Unimaginably different.
It was Meg’s friends who’d persuaded her to go to L.A. Tim, Sam and Judy all agreed that the man looked like Joe. So did their bowling buddies Ramon and Rosa Mendez.
“What can it hurt?” Rosa had asked. “You need to take Dana to the doctor anyway. So you make an extra long drive and get a good look at the man. If it’s not him, say ‘hasta la vista, baby,’ and drive away.”
“If it is him, he owes you plenty,” said Ramon. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not