Johnson Family 1: Unforgettable (7 page)

He bolted from the desk. He had to get away before he suffocated. He swung the door open and without looking at Ivy again, walked out the door.

Ivy watched him leave, and when she was certain he was gone for good, she collapsed onto one of the chairs. Not telling him had been the right decision years ago, but knowing didn’t make her feel any better. In fact, his departure hurt—a deep, unexpected pain that cut through to the marrow of her bones. He’d rejected Katie, just as she’d known he would. She’d hoped, for one moment, that he would prove her wrong. Not for her, but for their daughter.

She inhaled a tremulous breath and shook off her despondency. After struggling to her feet, she walked briskly down the hallway.

He wouldn’t know the wonderful human being Katie was or the intelligent, lovely young woman Ivy was certain she’d become. His loss.

She entered her office and caught her daughter spinning around in a circle in her executive chair. Ivy had told her not to do that on countless occasions.

Busted, Katie stopped and a guilty smile crossed her face. “Sorry, Mommy.”

Ivy didn’t have the energy or desire to scold her. Looking at her sweet face saddened her and made her heart ache.

Katie’s brow wrinkled. “Mommy, is something wrong?”

Ivy shook her head, biting her lip to keep it from trembling. “Time for our lunch date. Let’s go.” She held out her hand and Katie ran over.

“Good. I’m hungry!” her daughter said with dramatic flair.

Ivy grinned down at her. She’d brought so much joy into her life. Not only hers, the entire family. Katie had been their savior. Losing Lucas and then her beloved father soon after had plunged Ivy into depression. The only joy in her life had been the pending birth of her daughter. After Katie was born, there had been times when she didn’t want to get out of bed, but she did. Taking care of her daughter eased the pain and patched—if not repaired—her broken heart.  

Even her mother, who’d been confined to bed after losing her life partner, had slowly begun to live again when Ivy had brought her newborn grandchild to her room. Katie had, miraculously, saved her fractured family. Lucas had no idea what he was missing.

“You’re always hungry,” Ivy teased. “Where does it all go?”

“In my tummy!” Katie rubbed her stomach and made a chomping sound.

They laughed as they started down the hall. As they passed the office where she and Lucas had talked, Katie peeked in. “Is the man gone?”

Ivy’s fingers closed just a little bit tighter around her daughter’s hand. “Yes, he’s gone. We won’t be seeing him again.”

Chapter Eight

Seated at the boarding gate in Los Angeles International Airport, Lucas swallowed the last of his sandwich and crumpled the wrapper. After he’d left Seattle, he’d flown to LA for three days of radio spots, a newspaper interview, and a photo shoot for a regional magazine. The fatigue was starting to catch up with him. He felt it more often lately.

“You’re not as young as you used to be,” he told himself.

He licked a drop of mustard off his finger and caught the faint smile the woman in the chair across from him sent his way. He smiled in return, but looked away.

Not today, sweetheart.

He couldn’t even think about hooking up with anyone right now, and it was all Ivy’s fault.

Because of her, he was a father. He had no idea how to be one, didn’t have one and didn’t want to be one. He’d taken great pains to avoid fatherhood, and part of him was still stunned by the realization that he’d been hit by the bullet he thought he’d dodged all of his life.

How could she not tell him? And now he was supposed to drop everything and become the father he never wanted to be in the first place?

His thoughts were all jumbled because actually, she’d said the exact opposite. She’d let him off the hook and taken the news quite well that he didn’t want to take on his parental responsibilities.

He rested his elbows on his knees and scrubbed his hands over his face. He had a foster family, five brothers and sisters he’d grown up with in Mama Katherine’s house, but otherwise, he had no known blood relatives. Mama Katherine had told him he may not know who he was or where he came from, but that didn’t make him a nobody. But when he compared his life to Ivy’s, he came up short. She knew her heritage. She could trace her lineage.

The only memory he had, faint though it was, was of a woman with a large Afro leaning over him and singing the lullaby “Rock-a-Bye-Baby.” He wondered if it was real or a false memory. It could be a dream, but he could almost swear his smile mirrored the one she wore as she sang to him.

The social workers had told him there was no way he could remember any such occurrence because he’d been so young when they found him, but he held on to the memory nonetheless. It was a connection to his past, no matter how fragile.

The image of her face was fuzzy and its clarity remained just out of focus. Yet he wanted to believe she was his mother. It gave him something to hold on to, no matter how small, no matter how unlikely. His throat tightened painfully, as if someone had closed their hand around his neck and he straightened in the chair, fighting the suffocating sensation. He hated the drowning feeling that sometimes came over him—as if he were tossed into the abyss and told to sink or swim.

He’d felt this way all of his life, along with a restless emptiness, not unlike being out to sea in a small vessel without a paddle or motor to propel him along. Just…drifting, without purpose or direction.

He thought again about Katie, his own flesh and blood. They shared similar traits. She liked to write just like him. Imagine that.

With a wry smile, Lucas surveyed the bustling crowd at the airport.

His foot bounced up and down as he thought.

Maybe he could do it. Maybe he could do the father-thing. The more he thought about it, the less crazy the idea seemed.

Katie didn’t have a father right now. Why couldn’t it be him? After all, he actually was her father.

Ivy had obviously wanted to get rid of him. She’d made it ridiculously easy for him to walk away, but he’d show her he was not so easy to get rid of.

His jaw hardened with resolve and he picked up his carry-on bag from the floor. He walked up to the ticket counter.

“I need to change my flight,” he said to the airline agent. “I need your first flight to Seattle.”

****

Lucas paced the atrium of Johnson Enterprises. He made the same loop over and over, from one wall to the next. The guards at the desk eyed him the entire time, as if they’d be ready to tackle him if he made a questionable move.

In the nick of time he’d been able to make the next flight out of LA. He’d had to run through the airport with energy he probably hadn’t expelled since he was a teenager, but he’d made it to the gate on time. And now he was here, waiting for Ivy.

Since five o’clock, employees had been pouring out of the elevators into the atrium. Each time he searched the faces for her, and each time he was disappointed, but prepared to wait as long as it took for her to come down.

The doors purred open again and released another group of employees. Ivy was among them, and the minute he saw her his pulse rate accelerated. It was a reaction he couldn’t quash, much to his chagrin.

As usual she looked amazing in a form-fitting suit. Her hair was pulled back into a loose, side-swept chignon that allowed wisps of hair to brush her right cheek like dark strands of spun silk. She waved at the guards and stopped to speak to them. While they had her attention he made his way toward her. By the time she turned around, he was almost beside her.

Her eyes widened in surprise. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d left.”

“I did, but we need to talk.”

“What else is there to talk about?”

“Katherine.”

She eyed him with trepidation. “What about her?”

“Can we go somewhere to talk privately?” Lucas asked in a lowered voice.

He didn’t want to have this conversation at the guard desk. The older guy especially was giving him the evil eye. If Ivy gave any indication that Lucas upset her, these guys looked like they’d gladly beat him down with their batons.

She didn’t answer right away, but she did step away from the desk. “I don’t understand what’s going on. I thought you were on your way back to Atlanta.”

“I had a short trip to California and then I was headed back, but I changed my mind.”

“And you want to talk?” She sounded skeptical.

“Yes. Preferably now,” he said with insistence.

Her eyes clouded with uncertainty. “My driver’s outside. We could go to the lounge at the Four Seasons and have a drink. It’s usually quiet there this time of the day.”

“Afraid to be alone with me in private?” he asked.

“Forgive me if I don’t think that’s a good idea. You look like you want to choke the life out of me, and I’m not ready to die yet.” A vinegar smile crossed her lips, yet she still managed to look appealing.

She always did have a sarcastic sense of humor. If he weren’t so unhappy about their circumstances he would crack a smile.

They walked toward the door, and he placed his hand at the small of her back. The movement was automatic, one he didn’t think about until the exact moment his hand touched the base of her spine.

She jerked away from him. The abrupt motion sent her smack dab into a man walking nearby. Lucas stopped in his tracks and heard her murmur an apology to the man who smiled off the collision.

When she looked at him again, her eyes held a wildness that betrayed the cool expression on her face. “Could you try not to touch me, please,” she said.

The verbal slap stung. “My mistake,” he bit out. He waved his hand with a flourish. “Carry on, princess.”

“Stop calling me that,” she snapped.

“Why? You used to like it.” He was purposely goading her, trying to get a reaction. Maybe because his insides were an emotional jumble and her impassive face, proof she had way more control than he did, struck a nerve.

“Princesses get whatever they want. I do not.” She spun on her heel and marched toward the exit with more speed in her steps.

He stared after her. What the hell did that mean?

The ride to the hotel didn’t take long, but the entire time Ivy stayed on the phone in an obvious effort to ignore him. Well, he wasn’t going anywhere.

When they entered the hotel lounge the hostess practically tripped over herself to accommodate them. Everything was Ms. Johnson-this and Ms. Johnson-that. He was pretty sure if they hadn’t had a free table for them to sit at, the young woman would have gone down on all fours and let Ivy perch on her back. Fortunately, that wasn’t necessary. She wiped down a table in a quiet corner and they sat in soft-cushioned chairs across from each other.

Ivy crossed her long legs and set her gold Hermès bag on the low table between them. It seemed his senses were more heightened because her perfume enveloped him with a new scent, and it made his blood pressure spike.

“Can I get you a drink?” she asked.

“I don’t want a damn drink,” he replied, angry at her and at himself for the trajectory of his thoughts. Considering her deception, he was disgusted with himself for noticing anything about her.

She raised an eyebrow, surprised by his outburst. “I hope you don’t mind if I have one, then,” she said, lifting her hand to get the waiter’s attention. She was way too calm. He wanted to unravel her.

As she discussed the wine selection with the waiter, she leaned toward the young man. She uncrossed and re-crossed her legs as they talked, and Lucas wondered if she was doing it on purpose to drive him out of his mind.

Could you try not to touch me, please.

He tossed several Altoids into his mouth and chewed them with a vengeance. Those words made him want to touch her all the more. He’d start with those long legs of hers. He recalled how they felt cinched around his waist, and his groin tightened from the mere thought. Then he’d yank the pins out of that skein of hair so he could run his fingers through her long tresses.

He’d then focus on her moist lips. She knew how to use them, that’s for sure. She could suck the skin off—

Jeez. He ran a hand over his head and shifted in the chair. The woman still had him by the balls. He wanted to smash something. Maybe the vase on the table next to him. Or better yet, the table.

“And you, sir, what can I get for you?” the waiter asked with a pleasant smile.

“He’s not—”

“Vodka. Straight.” He pulled out his wallet and handed the young man a credit card. He had a feeling he’d need more than one drink. “Start a tab.”

The waiter walked away with the card in hand.

“You didn’t have to do that. I can get my own drinks.”

“I know you can, and get mine, too. But I’m a Southern man, and I won’t dine with a lady and have her pay for me. Nor will I allow her to pay for herself.”

“You’re still touting those old-fashioned ideas, Lucas?” she asked, smoothing the lines of her skirt. His eyes followed the movement. Even her knees were cute. He imagined pulling them apart and kissing her skin—from her knees up the silken length of her thigh to…heaven.