Claiming the Captain's Baby Read online

  Picking up the telephone receiver, he tapped the area code and then the numbers. “This is Giles Wainwright,” he said, introducing himself when the receptionist identified the name of the law firm. “I have a letter from your firm requesting my presence at the reading of a will this coming Thursday.”

  There came a pause. “Please hold on, Mr. Wainwright, while I connect you to Mr. McAvoy’s office.”

  Giles drummed his fingers on the top of the mahogany desk with a parquetry inlay.

  “Mr. Wainwright, I’m Nicole Campos, Mr. McAvoy’s assistant. Are you calling to confirm your attendance?”

  “I can’t confirm until I know who named me in their will.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Wainwright, but I cannot disclose that at this time.”

  He went completely still. “You expect me to fly from New York to West Virginia on a whim?”

  “It’s not a whim, Mr. Wainwright. Someone from your past indicated your name in a codicil to their will. If you choose not to come, then we’ll consider the matter settled.”

  Giles searched his memory for someone he’d met who had come from West Virginia. The only person that came to mind was a soldier under his command when they were deployed to Afghanistan.

  Corporal John Foley had lost an eye when the Humvee in which he was riding was hit by shrapnel from a rocket-propelled grenade. The young marine was airlifted to a base hospital, awarded a purple heart and eventually medically discharged. Giles prayed that John, who had exhibited signs of PTSD, hadn’t taken his life like too many combat veterans.

  He stared at the framed pen and ink and charcoal drawings of iconic buildings in major US cities lining the opposite wall. A beat passed as he contemplated whether he owed it to John or his family to reconnect with their past.

  “Okay, Ms. Campos. I’ll be there.”

  He could almost imagine the woman smiling when she said, “Thank you, Mr. Wainwright.”

  Giles hung up and slumped down in the chair. He had just come back from the Bahamas two days ago, and he was looking forward to sleeping in his own bed for more than a week and hopefully catch up on what was going on with his parents and siblings.

  Most days found him working in his office hours after other employees had gone home. It was when he spent time on the phone with his Bahamas-based broker negotiating the purchase of several more uninhabited islands. Other days were spent in weekly meetings with department heads and dinner meetings in the company’s private dining room with the officers and managers—all of whom were Wainwrights by bloodline or had married into the family.

  Wainwright Developers Group was the second largest real estate company in the northeast, and everyone associated with the company was committed to maintaining that position or bringing them to number one.

  Swiveling on his chair, he sent Jocelyn an email, outlining his travel plans for the following Thursday. Giles had no idea where Wickham Falls, West Virginia, was, but in another week he would find out.

  * * *

  Giles deplaned after the jet touched down at the Charleston, West Virginia, airport. A town car awaited his arrival. Jocelyn had arranged for a driver to take him to Wickham Falls. She had also called a hotel to reserve a suite because he did not have a timetable as to when he would return to New York.

  The trunk to the sedan opened, and seconds later the driver got out and approached him.

  “Mr. Wainwright?”

  Giles nodded. “Yes.” He handed the man his suitcase and a leather case with his laptop.

  When he’d boarded the jet, Giles had experienced a slight uneasiness because he still could not fathom what he would encounter once he arrived. He had racked his brain about possible scenarios and still couldn’t dismiss the notion that something had happened to John Foley.

  He removed his suit jacket, slipped into the rear of the car, stretched out his legs and willed his mind blank. When Jocelyn confirmed his travel plans, she informed him that Wickham Falls was an hour’s drive from the state capital. Ten minutes into the ride, he closed his eyes and didn’t open them again until the driver announced they were in Wickham Falls. Reaching for his jacket, he got out and slipped his arms into the sleeves.

  “I’m not certain how long the meeting is going to take,” he said to the lanky driver wearing a black suit that appeared to be a size too big.

  “Not a problem, Mr. Wainwright. I’ll wait here.”

  Giles took a quick glance at his watch. He was thirty minutes early. His gaze took in Wickham Falls’s business district, and he smiled.

  It was the epitome of small-town Americana. The streets were lined with mom-and-pop shops all sporting black-and-white awnings and flying American flags. Cars were parked diagonally in order to maximize space. It was as if Wickham Falls was arrested in time and that modernization had left it behind more than fifty years before. There was no fast-food restaurant or major drug store chain. To say the town was quaint was an understatement.

  He noted a large red, white and blue wreath suspended from a stanchion in front of a granite monument at the end of the street. A large American flag was flanked by flags representing the armed forces. Giles knew it was a monument for military veterans.

  He strolled along the sidewalk to see if John Foley’s name was on the monument. There were names of servicemen who’d served in every war beginning with the Spanish–American War to the present. There was one star next to the names of those who were missing in action, and two stars for those who’d died in combat. Although he was relieved not to find the corporal’s name on the marker, it did little to assuage his curiosity as to why he had been summoned to Wickham Falls.

  As he retraced his steps, Giles wasn’t certain whether he would be able to live in a small town. He was born, grew up and still lived in the Big Apple, and if he wanted or needed something within reason, all he had to do was pick up the telephone.

  He opened the solid oak door to the law firm and walked into the reception area of the one-story, salmon-colored stucco building. He met the eyes of the middle-aged woman sporting a ’60s beehive hairstyle, sitting at a desk behind a closed glass partition. She slid it open with his approach. His first impression was correct: the town and its inhabitants were stuck in time.

  “May I help you, sir?”

  Giles flashed a friendly smile. “I’m Giles Wainwright, and I have an appointment at eleven to meet with Mr. McAvoy.”

  She returned his smile. “Well, good morning, Mr. Wainwright. Please have a seat and I’ll have someone escort you to the conference room.”

  He nodded. “Thank you.”

  Giles did not bother to sit on the leather sofa, but stood with both hands clasped behind his back. He had sat enough that morning. First it was in the car heading for the airport, then all through the flight and again during the drive from the airport to Wickham Falls. He had altered his normal morning routine of taking the elevator in his high-rise apartment building to the lower level to swim laps in the Olympic-size pool.

  Swimming and working out helped him to relax, while maintaining peak physical conditioning from his time in the military. Going from active duty to spending most of his day sitting behind a desk had been akin to culture shock for Giles, and it had taken him more than a year to fully adjust to life as a civilian.

  “Mr. Wainwright?”

  He turned when he recognized the voice of the woman who’d called him. “Ms. Campos.”

  The petite, dark-haired woman with a short, pixie hairstyle extended her hand. “Yes.”

  Giles took her hand and was slightly taken aback when he noticed a small tattoo with USMC on the underside of her wrist. He successfully concealed a smile. It was apparent she had been in the Marine Corps. “Semper fi,” he said sotto voce.

  Nicole Campos smiled. “Are you in the Corps?”

  He shook his head. “I proudly served for ten years.”

&n
bsp; “I was active duty for fifteen years, and once I got out I decided to go to law school. I’d love to chat with you, Mr. Wainwright, but you’re needed in the conference room.”

  Giles always looked forward to swapping stories with fellow marines, yet that was not a priority this morning. He followed her down a carpeted hallway to a room at the end of the hall.

  His gaze was drawn to a woman holding a raven-haired baby girl. Light from wall sconces reflected off the tiny diamond studs in the infant’s ears. The fretful child squirmed, whined and twisted backward as she struggled to escape her mother’s arms.

  He smiled, and much to his surprise, the baby went completely still and stared directly at him with a pair of large round blue eyes. She yawned and he was able to see the hint of two tiny rice-like teeth poking up through her gums. He couldn’t pull his gaze away from the baby girl. There was something about her eyes that reminded him of someone.

  His attention shifted from the baby to the man seated at the head of the conference table. His premature white hair was totally incongruent to his smooth, youthful-looking face.

  Giles smiled and nodded. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning. I’m Preston McAvoy. Please excuse me for not getting up, Mr. Wainwright, but I’m still recovering from dislocating my knee playing football with my sons.” He motioned to a chair opposite the woman with the baby. “Please sit down.”

  Giles complied, his eyes meeting those of the woman staring at him with a pair of incredibly beautiful hazel eyes in a tawny-gold complexion. He wondered if she knew she looked like a regal lioness with the mane of flowing brown curls with gold highlights framing her face and ending inches above her shoulders. A slight frown appeared between her eyes as she continued to stare at him. He wondered if she had seen him during his travels in the Bahamas, while Giles knew for certain he had never met her because she was someone he would never forget; she was breathtakingly beautiful.

  Preston cleared his throat and opened the file folder on the table. He looked at Giles and then the baby’s mother. “I’m sorry when my assistant called to ask you to come in that she was bound by law not to tell you why you’d been summoned.” He removed an envelope from the folder and withdrew a single sheet of paper. His dark eyes studied each person at the table. “This is a codicil to Samantha Madison Lawson’s last will and testament.”

  Giles went completely still. The name conjured up the image of a woman from his past who had disappeared without a trace. Now it was obvious he had not come to West Virginia for an update about a fellow soldier, but for a woman with whom he’d had an off-and-on liaison that went on for more than a year.

  “Ms. Lawson, before she passed away,” Preston continued, “made provisions for her unborn child, hence named Lily Hope Lawson, to become the legal ward of her sister, Mya Gabrielle Lawson. Ms. Lawson, being of sound mind and body, instructed me not to reveal the contents of her codicil until a month following her death.” He paused and then continued to read from the single page of type.

  Giles, a former marine captain who had led men under his command into battles where they faced the possibility of serious injury or even death, could not still his momentary panic. A tense silence swelled inside the room when Preston finished reading.

  He was a father! The woman sitting across the table was holding his daughter. He had no legal claim to the child, but his daughter’s mother sought fit to grant him visitation. That he could see Lily for school and holiday weekends, Thanksgiving, Christmas and one month during the summer, while all visitations would have to be approved by Mya Gabrielle Lawson.

  Giles slowly shook his head. “That’s not happening.” The three words were dripping with venom.

  “What’s not happening?” Preston questioned.

  “No one is going to tell me when and where I can see my daughter.”

  “You’ve just been told.” The woman holding the child had spoken for the first time.

  Chapter Two

  Mya was certain the rapid pumping of her heart against her ribs could be heard by the others in the room. She hadn’t been able to move or utter a sound when the tall, black-haired man with piercing blue eyes in a suntanned face walked into the conference room. It had only taken a single glance for her to ascertain that the man was Sammie’s ex-lover and Lily’s father. He continued to glare at her in what was certainly a stare down. However, she was beyond intimidation because legally he had no claim over her daughter.

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” Giles countered in a low and threatening tone. “As Lily’s biological father, I can sue for joint custody.”

  “If you do, then you will surely lose,” Mya countered.

  Preston cleared his throat. “I’m afraid Ms. Lawson’s right, Mr. Wainwright. Legally, you have no right to the child. But look on the bright side, because it was the baby’s mother’s wish before she passed away that you could have a relationship with your daughter.”

  Giles’s eyes burned like lasers when he turned to glare at Preston. “You fail to understand that a woman carried my child and neglected to notify me about it. Even though she’s gone, you’re allowing her to become the master puppeteer pulling strings and manipulating lives from the grave?”

  Preston shrugged shoulders under a crisp white shirt. “Ms. Samantha Lawson must have had a reason for not informing you about the baby. I’m going to leave you and Mya alone, and I suggest you work out an arrangement that you both can agree on. Please keep in mind it’s what’s best for the baby.” Reaching for a cane, Preston rose to his feet and limped out of the office.

  Lily began squirming again, and Mya knew it was time to feed her and then put her to bed. “We’re going to have to put off this meeting for another time because I have to get home and feed Lily.”

  “I don’t have another time,” Giles said. “The sooner we compromise, the better it will be for all of us.”

  A wry smile twisted Mya’s mouth. Spoken like a true businessman. She wanted to tell him it wasn’t about compromising. The terms in the codicil did not lend themselves to negotiating a compromise. “That’s not possible now because I’m going home.”

  “Then I’ll go with you.”

  Mya went completely still, and she stared at Giles as if he had taken leave of his senses. Did he actually expect her to welcome him, a stranger, into her home as if she had offered him an open invitation? “You want to come home with me?”

  He cocked his head at an angle. “I don’t hear an echo.”

  Her temper flared. “You cocky, arrogant—”

  “I know I’m an SOB,” he drawled, finishing her outburst. “Look, Ms. Lawson,” he continued in a softer tone. “Up until a few minutes ago I had no idea that I was a father. But if Samantha had told me she was carrying my child, I would’ve made provisions for her and the child’s future.”

  Mya scooped the diaper bag off the floor and looped the straps over her shoulder. “In other words, you wouldn’t have married Sammie, because you weren’t ready for marriage and fatherhood. She wouldn’t tell me your name, but she did open up about your views on marriage and children.” Mya knew she had struck a nerve with the impeccably dressed businessman when he lowered his eyes. Everything about him reeked of privilege and entitlement. His tailored suit and imported footwear probably cost more than some people earned in a month.

  “What’s the matter, Mr. Wainwright? You see a little girl with black hair and blue eyes and suddenly you’re ready to be a father? What happened to you asking for a paternity test?”

  Giles’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t need a paternity test because Lily looks like my sister.”

  “If that’s case, then you can save some money,” Mya mumbled under her breath. Suddenly she realized she wasn’t as angry with Giles Wainwright as she was with her sister. Sammie had completely blindsided her with the codicil.

  Giles rounded the table and took the
large quilted bag off Mya’s shoulder. “Please let me help you to your car.”

  Mya resisted the urge to narrow her eyes at him. At least he’d said please. She walked out of the room, Giles following as she cradled Lily to her chest. Fortunately for her, the baby had quieted. She had parked the Honda Odyssey in the lot behind the office building.

  Pressing a button on the remote device, she opened the door to the minivan and placed Lily in the car seat behind the passenger seat. She removed the baby’s hand-knitted sweater and buckled her in.

  “We’ll be home in a few minutes,” she crooned softly as Lily yawned and kicked her legs. She closed the door and turned around to look for Giles. He was nowhere in sight. Where could he have gone with the diaper bag?

  “Are you looking for this?”

  She turned to find him standing on the other side of the vehicle, holding the bag aloft. Bright afternoon sun glinted off his neatly barbered inky-black hair. Closing the distance between them, she held out her hand. “Yes. I’ll take it now.”

  Giles held it out of her reach. “I’ll give it back to you when you get to your house.”

  She didn’t want to believe he was going to hold the bag hostage. Mya bit her lip to keep from spewing the curses forming on tongue. She wanted the bag, but more than that she needed to get her daughter home so she could change and feed her and then into her crib for a nap.

  She knew arguing with the arrogant man was just going to delay her. “Okay,” she conceded. “Follow me.”

  She flung off Giles’s hand when he attempted to assist her into the van. The man was insufferable. She couldn’t understand how Sammie was able to put up with his dictatorial personality. It was as if he was used to giving orders and having them followed without question.

  Mya hit the start-engine button harder than necessary. Lily’s father was definitely working on her very last frayed nerve. She maneuvered out of the parking lot, not bothering to glance up at the rearview mirror to see if he was following her.