A Touch of Persuasion. Janice Maynard
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when it came to bank accounts, Olivia did have considerable financial means at her disposal. In a legal battle, she could hold her own. And judges often sided with a mother, particularly in this situation.
She had no notion of what awaited her on the other side of the door, but she wouldn’t go down without a fight. Kieran Wolff didn’t deserve to be a father. And if it came to that, she would tell him so.
Deliberately taking a moment to shore up her nerve, she rapped sharply at the door and took a deep breath.
Kieran had worn a trail in the carpet by the time his reluctant guest arrived. When he yanked open the door and saw her standing in the vestibule, his gut pitched and tightened. God, she was gorgeous. Every male hormone he possessed stood up and saluted. A man would have to be almost dead not to respond to her inherent sexuality.
Like the pin-up girls of the 1940s, with legs that went on forever, breasts that were real and plenty of feminine curves right where they should be, Olivia Delgado was a vivid, honey-skinned fantasy.
But today wasn’t about appeasing the hunger in his gut, even if he had been celibate during a recent, hellacious foray into the wilds of Thailand. Bugs, abysmal weather and local politics had complicated his life enormously. He’d been more than ready to return to central Virginia and reconnect with his family. Not that he ever stayed very long, but still… that closely guarded mountain in the Blue Ridge was the only place he called home.
With an effort, he recalled his wayward thoughts. “Come in, Olivia. I’ve ordered dinner. It should be delivered any moment now.”
She slipped past him in a cloud of Chanel No. 5, making him wonder if she had worn the evocative scent on purpose. In the old days, she had often come to his bed wearing nothing but a long strand of pearls and that same perfume.
He waited for her to be seated on the love seat and then took an armchair for himself a few feet away. In the intervening hours, he’d rehearsed how this would go. Having her here, on somewhat public turf, seemed like a good idea. He was determined to keep his cool, no matter the provocation.
They faced off in silence for at least a minute. When he realized she wasn’t going to crack, he sighed. “Surely you can’t deny it, Olivia. You were a virgin when we met. I can do the math. Your daughter is mine.”
Her eyes flashed. “My daughter is none of your business. You may have introduced me to sex, but there have been plenty of men since.”
“Liar. Name one.”
Her jaw dropped. “Um…”
He chuckled, feeling the first hint of amusement he’d had since he saw the article about the party. Olivia might look like a woman of immense sophistication and experience, but he’d bet his last dime that she was still the sweet, down-to-earth girl he’d known back at university, completely unaware of her stunning beauty.
“Show me her birth certificate.”
Her chin lifted. “Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t carry it around in my purse.”
“But you probably have it at the house, right? In order to register her for kindergarten?”
She nibbled her bottom lip. “Well, I…”
Thank God she was a lousy liar. “Whose name is on the birth certificate, Olivia? You might as well tell me. You know I can find out.”
Suddenly she looked neither sweet nor innocent. “Kevin Wade. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
The sharp pain in his chest took his breath away. “Kevin Wade…”
“Exactly. So you can see that no judge would think you have any rights in this instance at all.” Her eyes were cold, and even that realization was painful. The Olivia he had known smiled constantly, her joie de vivre captivating and so very seductive.
Now her demeanor was icy.
“You put my name on her birth certificate,” he croaked. It kept coming back to that. Kevin Wade was a father. Kieran had a daughter.
“Correction,” she said with a flat intonation that disguised any emotion. “In the hospital, when I gave birth to my daughter, I listed a fictional name for her father. It had nothing to do with you.”
He clamped down on his frustration, acknowledging that he was getting nowhere with this approach. Unable to sit any longer, he sprang to his feet and paced, pausing at the windows to look out at the ocean in the far distance. One summer he had lived for six weeks on a houseboat in Bali. It was the freest he had ever felt, the most relaxed.
Too bad life wasn’t always so easy.
Olivia continued to sit in stubborn silence, so he kept his back to her. “When you hired an investigator, what did you find out about me?”
After several seconds of silence, she spoke. “That your real name is Kieran Wolff. You lost your mother and aunt to a violent abduction and shooting when you were small. Your father and uncle raised you and your siblings and cousins in seclusion, because they were afraid of another kidnapping attempt.”
He faced her, brooding. “Will you listen to my side of the story?” he asked quietly.
Olivia’s hands were clenched together in her lap, her posture so rigid she seemed in danger of shattering into a million pieces. Though she hid it well, he could sense her agitation. At one time he had been attuned to her every thought and desire.
He swallowed, painfully aware that a king-size bed lay just on the other side of the door. The intensity of the desire he felt for her was shocking. As was the need for her to understand and forgive him. He was culpable for his sins in the past, no doubt about it. But that didn’t excuse Olivia for hiding the existence of his child, his blood.
“Will you listen?” he asked again.
She nodded slowly, eyes downcast.
With a prayer for patience, he crossed the expanse of expensive carpet to sit beside her, hip to hip. She froze, inching back into her corner.
“Look at me, Olivia.” He took her chin in his hand with a gentle grasp, lifting it until her gaze met his. “I’m not the enemy,” he swore. “All I need is for you to be honest with me. And I’ll try my damnedest to do the same.”
Her chocolate-brown eyes were shiny with tears, but she blinked them back, giving him a second terse nod. He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and forced himself to release her. Touching her was a luxury he couldn’t afford at the moment.
“Okay, then.” He was more a man of action than of words. But if he was fighting for his daughter, he would use any means necessary, even if that meant revealing truths he’d rather not expose.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and dropped his head in his hands. “You were important to me, Olivia.”
A slight humph was her only response. Was that skepticism or denial or maybe both?
“It’s true,” he insisted. “I’d been with a lot of girls before I met you, but you were different.”
Dead silence.
“You made me laugh even when I wanted you so badly, I ached. I never meant to hurt you. But I had made a vow to my father.”
“Of course you had.”
She could give lessons in sarcasm.
“Sneer if you like, but the vow was real. My brothers and cousins and I swore to my father and my uncle that if they would let us go off to college without bodyguards, we would use assumed names and never tell anyone who we really were.”
“So it was okay to sleep with me, but you couldn’t share with me something as simple as the truth about your real name. Charming.”
This time it was Olivia who jumped to her feet and paced. He sat back and stared at her, tracking the gentle sway of her hips as she crisscrossed the room. “I was going to tell you,”