Summer of Love - Carly Phillips Page 0,8
parents?”
“I certainly will.” Zoe hung up the phone and focused on the stranger in her kitchen.
A man who’d stirred something inside her that had been dormant for too long. A man who obviously had an agenda.
She walked up behind him and tugged on his arm.
“Is this you and Sam?” He gestured to the picture of Zoe, Ari and Sam with orange spray-on tans on their faces and arms, smiling for the camera.
“We were recreating an old childhood memory,” she said laughing before she caught herself. “Never mind that.”
He narrowed his gaze. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“You’re wrong, Ryan Baldwin, if that’s even your name. Since I just spoke to Sam’s social worker on the phone and I know she couldn’t get someone to replace her, I’d like to know just who the hell you are. And what the hell you’re doing snooping around my family and my house.”
Chapter Two
Ryan realized the moment his cover had been blown and his stomach churned with a combination of relief that he could end his deception and anticipation that a confrontation was sure to follow. He’d been preparing himself the entire car ride from Boston, and he was ready now.
He glanced at Zoe. Gone was the solicitous woman who’d sought to charm and accommodate him. Instead, he looked into deep green eyes, which only minutes ago had flickered with warmth and interest, and that now held cold contempt.
“Who the hell are you?” Zoe asked again.
Ryan welcomed the intervention of fate. “I’m Sam’s uncle.”
“Sam has no family.” She folded her arms across her chest defensively. “Care to cough up another lie?”
“It’s the truth. My sister, Faith, was Sam’s mother.”
“Sam’s mother’s name was Sara.”
He reached into his pocket for the papers he’d received from the P.I. and handed them over.
Zoe glanced through the sheets, which acknowledged her words and verified his, and paled. “I’m assuming these are copies?”
He nodded. “Feel free to keep them.”
She rolled them tightly, hanging on to the documents with one hand. “Even if you’re telling the truth, wouldn’t you say you took your sweet time coming around?”
“Faith ran away from home when she was seventeen. I was only thirteen. She got involved with drugs and changed her name so many times, her trail grew cold. But make no mistake, Sam is my niece.”
“And?” She spat out the word.
“And I want to bring her home.”
“What if that isn’t what Sam wants? After years of being shuffled from foster home to foster home, she finally has a family. Here. With us.”
If Ryan had admired this woman before his revelation, her spunk fired his blood now. Even their differences didn’t stop the desire racing through his veins.
“Do you really think you can show up, wave some documents that proclaim you’re a blood relative and whisk her away? Think again. You’re years too late to do Sam one bit of good.”
He swallowed hard because Zoe had voiced his biggest fear. But that didn’t mean he’d back down. He leaned closer, getting into her personal space. “No court’s going to hold it against me because I was too young to track Sam down sooner.”
Court? Zoe grew dizzy, feeling the blood rush out of her head. Her family might pass inspection with a social worker. But if a judge was faced with choosing between this man, who had blood ties to Sam and who seemed impeccably normal, or her wacky family, the Costas clan didn’t stand a chance.
She understood this just as she understood the ramifications of Ryan Baldwin’s claim. A claim she intended to check out ASAP. In the meantime, while she got Quinn and Connor digging into the man’s past and present, she needed to buy her and her family some time.
No way could he reveal the truth to Sam or Social Services just yet. “Please don’t tell me you think you can snap your fingers and all will go your way,” she said with sugared sweetness.
He shrugged, but there was a definite arrogance to him she hadn’t noticed earlier. Hadn’t wanted to notice, she was forced to admit. She’d been taken in by his good looks and suckered by his claim that he was a public servant.
Now that she allowed her training to kick in and looked more closely, she realized his European suit was more expensive than any social worker could afford and his voice held a trace of a fine New England accent. Which meant he not only had the intent to fight her family in court, should it come to that, but