The Marine. Leah Vale
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of the files into her briefcase with a careless hand and turned toward the door.
His mom didn’t know.
The thought stopped Lynn. She forced herself to consider. Why hadn’t he told his mother that his career, and freedom, were on the line? Because he didn’t want to face his mother’s disappointment?
Lynn shook her head. No. He struck her as the type who’d take it on the chin, sobbing momma or not. So why was he putting off the inevitable?
Because he doesn’t want to be talked out of doing what he’s doing.
The specter of his innocence rose again and made her conscience shudder. She shoved the uncomfortable sensation aside.
Maybe Major Branigan might find it easy to tell a stranger to go take a flying leap, but ignoring his mother’s pleas to make the best of the situation and get on with his life was another thing.
Hopefully, he’d be willing to get on with his life under the protective wing of the McCoys in Dependable, Missouri.
An idea bloomed in Lynn’s head and a renewed sense of determination surged through her with a power she’d come to depend upon.
She had no choice but to do anything she could to get Major Branigan in Dependable by July third.
Even if his momma had to drag him there.
WAITING IN HER hotel’s sunny, tropical-themed coffee shop the next morning for Ann Branigan to arrive, Lynn stared at the concentric rings of white that the cream formed as she poured the thick liquid into her coffee. She’d already dumped in the contents of two packets of sweetener.
She used to not allow herself the luxury of making what she considered a nasty drink more palatable, worried that she might be perceived as less tough somehow for not taking her coffee strong and black. But after meeting with such steady success at McCoy Enterprises, she’d lightened up a bit. She swirled her spoon around the cup until the coffee was a pale brown.
Maybe she’d lightened up too much.
Was that why she was having such a hard time sticking with her original neutrality regarding the major’s innocence or guilt? And was that why she’d agreed to wait until his mother could fly down from San Francisco to meet with her in person and talk at length about her son?
Lynn blew out a breath at her own foolishness and pushed the cup and saucer toward the center of the table, bumping the slender vase and its little purple orchids to the side. She’d only accepted being put off by Ann Branigan—after first telling the woman everything she knew, including the details of Marcus McCoy’s will—because it had become plain to Lynn less than two minutes into the conversation that the major’s mother was a woman to reckon with.
Ms. Branigan had not been happy to discover she’d been outed, that the secret she’d kept for so long was no longer a secret.
Thanks to the files Joseph McCoy’s lawyers and private investigators had compiled after the reading of Marcus McCoy’s will naming the women he’d paid off, Lynn had already known that Ms. Branigan was the owner of a very successful architectural design firm. Which was also how Lynn had known to get ahold of her. But Lynn had had no idea how strong a personality the woman would have.
Ms. Branigan had refused to give Lynn any insight into her son until they had a chance to meet face-to-face. Apparently holding on to a million-dollar secret for thirty-three years made her play things dang close to the vest.
But the major’s mom had promised in exchange not to see Rick or talk to him until after that meeting.
She’d better not. Lynn needed her firmly in the get-this-over-quick-and-quiet camp before Ms. Branigan spoke with her son.
And then Lynn could put the specter of past wrongs and the moral consciousness he’d stirred in her to rest for good and go back to never thinking about what was over and done with. She wanted to think only about her future.
A bright one without shadows or fear.
The sound of wooden chair legs scraping on tile brought her out of her thoughts and her head up. An attractive, petite older woman with close-cropped brown hair was pulling out the chair across from Lynn. She wore a tailored leather jacket that matched her hair, over a tan blouse and slacks. A bright red scarf tied jauntily around her neck gave her a splash of color and style.
“Miss Hayes?” she asked, even though she’d clearly assumed she had the right table. Her smile was striking, but tight—so similar to her son’s.
Lynn extended a hand. “Yes. And you must be Ann Branigan.”
“I am.” She slid into the seat with the ease of a woman used to breakfast meetings. The deep grooves on either side of her full mouth and her worry-clouded blue eyes made it obvious this was no regular business meeting to her. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”
“Thank you for flying down here.” Assuming you prove to be a help, not a hindrance.
“How could I not?” She settled in and waved away the waitress and her coffeepot. “While he might not believe it, Rick is the most important part of my world.”
Before Lynn could process the implications of Ms. Branigan’s statement, she asked, “So tell me, how could this have happened? Who has Rick been mistaken for?”
Lynn blinked. His mother had automatically assumed him innocent, despite all the facts Lynn had relayed to her during their telephone conversation the night before.
Lynn’s instincts reared up and shouted, Ha, I told you so! She stubbornly ignored them. “Ms. Branigan, your son confessed. Why would you think it’s a mistake?”
“Please, call me Ann. And I’m positive there’s been a mistake because I know my son, Miss Hayes.”
“Lynn,” she said, leveling the playing field. This woman was obviously the type who would cooperate only if she considered Lynn her equal.
Ann acknowledged her with a nod, then leaned forward, her round face radiating the strength of will her peppy attractiveness would normally belie. “Rick would never drive drunk, and he would never, ever, leave the scene of an accident, whether he caused it or not.” She settled back again. “You see, Lynn, my son is all about duty and honor.”
Lynn’s spirits plummeted. So much for losing moral consciousness.
Through tight lips, she admitted, “I noticed.”
“Hard not to. He lives and breathes the Marine code of honor, courage and commitment. Pretty much always has. When he was a teenager and found out that Semper Fi meant ‘Always Faithful’ he enlisted in the Marines’ college-bound program the next day.”
“Why?”
Ann inhaled deeply as she straightened the silverware in front of her. “When I asked him that very thing, he said he felt he had something to prove—whether to the world or himself, I’m not sure. What he didn’t say—would never say, but it’s something I’ve always known—is that he resents the choices his father and I made when I accidentally became pregnant.”
“You and Marcus McCoy,” Lynn clarified in a low voice.
“Yes. Neither of us wanted a long-term commitment. Marcus, understandably, didn’t want his identity revealed. I agreed to his terms because I’d be able to secure my child’s future by investing the money he was offering in my business. My hope had been that Rick would grow up and take over the company. He had different ideas. And I respect that.”
Different ideas that would cost Lynn her chance for guaranteed security. “But now that his ideas about his future have been effectively demolished, will you help me convince him to take the easiest way out of the trouble he’s in?”
“No.”
Shock loosened Lynn’s jaw, and she fought not to gape.
It must have shown, because Ann’s expression softened and she leaned near.