She hung up.

Sam slowly pushed the Off button on the phone and set it on the desk. As he did so, he glanced at his watch. It had been less than twenty minutes since Kelly had walked into his house. Twenty minutes during which his entire world had spun out of control.

Now what?

Sam walked into the kitchen to find Kelly finishing off her plate of enchiladas. Francesca stood by the sink, a glass of wine in her hand. He couldn’t blame her for that, although he wanted something stronger than Merlot.

“I talked to your mother,” he said.

Kelly carefully put down her fork, then wiped her mouth on a paper towel before turning toward him. Her wide green eyes didn’t show any emotion.

He studied her face, looking for similarities. He thought he might see traces of Tanya, maybe in her high cheekbones and the shape of her mouth, but he wasn’t sure. Nor did he see any resemblance to himself. Was his ex-wife lying?

He dismissed the question. Tanya might be out for the easy buck, but she wasn’t stupid. Why would she try to pass someone else’s kid off as his? All it would take was a DNA test to determine paternity. If he wasn’t the father, he would hunt Tanya down and return Kelly. If Tanya was really running off with some guy who didn’t know about Kelly, she wouldn’t want to risk Sam showing up with her kid.

“Did she tell you about Raoul?” Kelly asked. “His father is some minor count or something. Euro-trash. But Tanya is totally into the title thing and Raoul’s the heir. His dad is pretty old, but Raoul is only like twenty-five. They’re going to live part-time in Paris and part-time at some big house Raoul has in the south of France.”

“She only mentioned that she would be living abroad.”

“And that you’re stuck with me.”

She spoke the words casually, as if they didn’t matter. Sam tried to see past them. Wouldn’t a twelve-year-old girl care that her mother had abandoned her? But Kelly met his gaze calmly, barely blinking, displaying no emotion.

“She said you’re into ballet,” he told her, avoiding the “stuck with” part of Kelly’s statement.

“Apparently there’s a prestigious teacher here in Santa Barbara,” Francesca said. “Kelly did some research on the Internet.”

Kelly nodded, her curls bouncing with the movement. “You’re going to have to set up an audition. I brought workout clothes with me in my backpack, but that’s all. So I guess I need to go shopping for some stuff. You can drop me off at a mall in the morning. Or can I take a cab? Do you have cabs out here?”

Sam held up his hands. “Hold on. One thing at a time. Your mother said she was sending your things. They’ll be here at the end of the week.”

Kelly rolled her eyes. “And between now and then what am I supposed to do? Tanya never said you were cheap.”

“I’m not—”

He shook his head. He wasn’t going to argue with her about shopping. There were more important issues. School. No. It was June. School was out for the summer. Shit. Which meant she was going to be around all the time. Could he leave a twelve-year-old alone while he went to work?

He thought of her ability to travel from New York to Santa Barbara. Leave her alone? It sounded more like he was going to have to lock her up.

“We have a lot of things to figure out,” he said.

Kelly shrugged. “Whatever. I just want to get back to dance class right away. You’ll call in the morning, right? I have the number in my backpack.”

Dance class would keep her busy—probably a good thing. “Yeah, I’ll call.”

Kelly slid off the stool. “Good. I wrote down the names of my teachers and where I’ve been studying. Be sure to sound forceful when you call. Dance teachers respond to pressure from crabby parents. You might want to mention you’re rich. They like that, too.”

The longer she spoke, the more he could see his ex-wife in her. “Thanks for the advice,” he said dryly.

“No problem.”

She left the kitchen. Francesca crossed to the counter and picked up her dirty plate. “At least she’s not a wallflower,” she murmured as she carried the dish, fork, and glass to the sink.

“You say that like it’s a good thing.” He swore. “I can’t believe Elena left this morning. Talk about timing.”

Francesca’s eyes widened. “I didn’t even think of that. You can’t leave her alone all day.”

Kelly returned before Sam could ask Francesca why not. From what he could see, the kid could sure take care of herself.

He glanced at the backpack. “You don’t have any more luggage than that?”

“Nope. I didn’t want to bring a lot of clothes. I didn’t know what would be in style out here. I mean, is it West Coast chic or just backwoods ugly?”

Sam didn’t know how to answer the question, so he ignored it. Instead he led the way out of the kitchen and upstairs.

On the second floor he walked to the far end of the hall—at the opposite end of the house from his bedroom—and door.

While there were five bedrooms upstairs, only three were furnished. He’d given Kelly the largest guestroom. The big, open space held a queen-size bed, a dresser, a desk, and an armoire with a television. The attached bathroom was as spacious as the bedroom.

Kelly dropped her backpack on the bed and prowled the room. Her stride was long and graceful. She held her head high. Years of dance training, he thought, then wondered if she was going to need some kind of workout room. Didn’t dancers need hardwood floors and a wall of mirrors?

Kelly pushed open the closet and examined the space, then pulled on the armoire’s doors. “Oh, good. A TV. Do you have cable or satellite?”

“Cable.”

She tilted her head. “There isn’t a DVD player. We’ll need to take care of that this week. I’m sure Tanya will be sending my DVDs along with my other stuff. Once I’m settled and stuff, we need to redecorate this room.” She wrinkled her nose. “Blue isn’t my color.”

Sam looked at the light blue walls and the multicolored quilt on the bed. Elena had taken care of fixing up the two guest rooms. His level of involvement had stopped at signing the check.

He was five seconds from overload, he thought and grabbed the door handle.

“Do you need anything else?”

Kelly shook her head. “I’ll just watch TV, then go to bed early. I’m still on East Coast time. Plus I got up early for my flight.”

He hesitated, not sure what to say to her. Then he simply nodded, wished her good night, pulled the door shut, and stepped back into the hall.

He found Francesca still in the kitchen. When he walked into the room, they looked at each other.

“How are you doing?” she asked.

“I have no idea.” He thought about their plans for the evening. No way that was happening now. “I’m sorry about all this messing up our evening,” he told her. “You didn’t sign up for anything like this. If you want to take off, I’ll understand.”

She smiled. “Thanks for giving me an out, but I don’t mind sticking around. I have a feeling you’re going to need someone to talk to.”

Some of his tension eased. “You sure?”

“Absolutely. We’re friends.” She hesitated over the last word, then shook her head. “I’m glad to help. I might not have kids of my own, but I used to be one, just like you. We can brainstorm.”

“Good idea. But first I need a drink.”

She pointed to the bottle of wine. He shook his head.

“I want something a lot stronger than that.”

Kelly listened at the door. When she couldn’t hear anything, she slowly pulled it open. There was only a faint murmur of voices from downstairs.

Good, she told herself as she returned to the bed and opened her backpack. She was tired, just like she said. Being alone was better than hanging out with someone she didn’t even know.

She pulled out her dance clothes and tucked them in a drawer. She’d brought a change of clothes, a bathing suit, a small bag of makeup and skin-care stuff, and a toothbrush. Tucked in an interior zipper compartment was the credit card she always used. If Sam didn’t take her to the mall, she would order what she needed online. It wasn’t as cool as actually trying stuff on, but she’d done it before. She checked that the card was still there.

Some kids had parents who took care of things like buying clothes and CDs and stuff. Tanya had never been into maintenance. Kelly couldn’t remember her mother ever cooking for her, or laying out clothes. Whatever maid was around did that kind of stuff. At least she used to. Kelly had been handling that herself for years.

After she’d washed her face and brushed her teeth, she changed into cotton pjs and carried her backpack to the closet. But before stuffing it on the top shelf, she opened it one last time and pulled out a worn, tattered Pooh bear. The fur was rubbed off one side of the face. One arm hung at an awkward angle, and the cheerful yellow T-shirt the bear had been wearing had faded to a dingy gray.

Kelly studied the stuffed animal, then shoved the backpack in the closet and closed the door.

She would be fine, she told herself. Except she didn’t believe it. After years of threatening, her mother had finally gotten rid of her. What if her dad didn’t want her, either? If he threw her out, where was she going to go?

She didn’t want to think about it, so she climbed into bed and pulled up the covers. After tucking Pooh under one arm, she tightly closed her eyes. But no matter how hard she squeezed her eyelids, she couldn’t stop the tears from escaping and dripping down her cheeks.

7

S am poured himself a scotch, then moved to the sofa where Francesca had already settled.

“This is crazy,” he said, leaning his head against the back of the sofa and resting the glass on his flat belly. “Twelve-year-olds do not fly across the country on their own.”

“This one did. Kelly explained the process.” Francesca told him about the Internet purchases and the limo service.

“She’s resourceful,” he admitted. “Independent. Mouthy.”

And used to being taken care of, Francesca thought, remembering the dishes Kelly had left on the counter. She was not a child who picked up after herself.

He took a sip of his drink. “She informed me that the room was acceptable, but she needed a DVD player, and when things were settled she wanted to talk about redecorating.” He glanced at her. “Apparently blue isn’t her color.”

“She’s not afraid to ask for what she wants.”

“Somehow I’m not sure that’s a good thing.” He closed his eyes and sucked in a breath. “A daughter. After all this time.”

Francesca knew she felt shell-shocked, and she was only an interested bystander. Sam must feel as if he’d been hit by a truck.

“Are you going to check paternity?” she asked.

He opened his eyes and looked at her. “DNA test? I thought about it. I guess I’ll have to at some point. But while Tanya has no problem lying to get what she wants, she’s not stupid. She knows I wouldn’t keep a child who wasn’t mine, and the last thing she wants right now is Kelly being returned to her. I don’t know. Do you think she looks like me?”

“A little. Around her mouth. But she didn’t get that hair from you.”

“You’re right.” He stretched out his legs. “I don’t know what to think about all of this. I had no idea. When Tanya left—hell, I don’t remember much about that except wanting her gone. All these years I never guessed.”

“Why would you? You had no clues. She’s been living on the other side of the country. It’s not as if you ran into her and Kelly.”

“Good point.” He took another drink. “I should be mad or something. I missed out on Kelly growing up. But I can’t get angry.”