One in a Billion

“There’s really nothing left for us to talk about. Besides, didn’t you interrogate me enough at The Pines?” she said. Deidre had lived there, nursing her newly found father until he’d finally succumbed to a brain tumor last week.

“Interrogate? You hardly ever stuck around long enough for me to ask a question, let alone interrogate you. You avoided me like the plague whenever we were both at The Pines. If you would just consider the matter rationally for a moment, you’d see the importance of me understanding your motives … of knowing you better. Lincoln entrusted me with his company. It’s my job to protect his interests.”

Deidre glanced away guiltily. She had avoided Nick a lot, but she told herself she’d done so because she didn’t care for Nick’s patronizing manner. In truth, her avoidance might have had something to do with her reaction to him as a man. Nick Malone was the last man on the planet she should find attractive.

She shivered, whether it was from anger or anxiety over Nick’s unexpected presence, she couldn’t say. “I’m not interested in Lincoln’s estate or DuBois Enterprises. I wanted to know him as best I could, given the short time we had. Why is that so hard for you to comprehend?”

His head went back, his indrawn breath hissing against his teeth. She sensed his profound frustration, but given how bewildering his presence here was, she had a hard time feeling sorry for him. Wasn’t her life complicated enough without Nick? She shivered again.

“It’s freezing out here, and there’s something important I need to tell you,” he muttered. He reached out and cupped her elbow. “Will you at least sit in my car so I can turn on the heat?”

Those sharp eyes of his didn’t miss much, she recalled. Something in his tense, strained manner sent a distant alarm going off in her head.

“Is it really that important?”

“More important than you know.”

“All right,” she said cautiously after a moment. She took a step, breaking their contact. His touch unsettled her. He waved to the left and tilted his head.

She followed him into the next row of cars. He hit the remote lock with his thumb and a dark sedan’s headlights blinked. Deidre sat when he opened the door for her, placing the floral arrangement on the floor next to her feet. She said nothing when he got in the car and turned on the ignition, but she was highly aware of him. The dim dash lights made it possible for her to make a covert study of him. Nick was the type of man who dominated a room once he entered it. Inside a car, his presence crowded rational thought completely out of her mind.

He wore a suit and an attractive black cashmere dress coat, making her wonder if he’d been prepared to enter Liam’s wedding reception to find her. Deidre had immediately understood upon being introduced to Nick that while he may possess a handsome face and the fit, lean body of an athlete and horseman, he wasn’t about looks.

He was about power.

The walking embodiment of an alpha-male tycoon, Nick conquered the business world just like cowboys had vanquished the intimidating, rugged landscapes of the American West.

She wouldn’t let him conquer her with the same heavy-handed tactics.

He gripped the steering wheel with gloved hands. She tensed, waiting for his attack.

“You’re pale,” he muttered. “Have you been sick?”

Deidre’s jaw dropped open. She looked at him in amazement, but he kept his face turned in profile. His gruff solicitation was the last thing she’d expected.

“You can tell I’m pale by examining me in a dark parking lot?” she asked, saying the first thing that came to mind to cover her embarrassment.

“I saw you at the reception, dancing with that man.”

“You actually came into the ballroom?”

“I just stood in the door, looking for you.” He ignored Deidre’s exasperated sigh. “Who was he?”

She did a double take. “Who was who?”

“The man you were dancing with.”

Deidre blinked. She’d forgotten Nick wasn’t at The Pines last autumn when her brother Marc had visited to offer her support.

“It was my brother Marc. Can you please get on with whatever is so important?”

“You can’t just run away from all this, Deidre. It’s naive of you, or stubborn, or both to think you can say you’re Lincoln DuBois’s daughter and not expect any ramifications to that claim. Why won’t you agree to the genetic testing, at the very least?”

Nervousness fluttered in her stomach. She’d been expecting him to broach this topic. Just the term genetic testing had taken on an electrical charge in the past few months. Unbeknownst to Nick, she’d already had the testing done. She’d refused to comply when Nick and DuBois Enterprises’s chief legal officer, John Kellerman, insisted upon it. Mostly she’d ignored their demands because they’d made them in such a condescending, suspicious manner. Her body wasn’t the property of DuBois Enterprises, and as far as she was concerned, its representatives had no right to make demands upon it. When Lincoln had requested the same thing, however, she’d immediately agreed.

But he’d died before they’d received the results.

What if she wasn’t Lincoln’s daughter? Deidre wondered for the thousandth time. The thought caused a familiar raw ache to expand in her belly. It frightened her a little, to consider how much hope she’d invested in being Lincoln’s natural child. If she wasn’t Lincoln’s, she’d be right back where she’d been for most of her entire adult life.

An outsider. Anchorless. Different. Fatherless.

“Deidre?” Nick prompted quietly. She blinked. Had he noticed her anxiety? She took a deep breath.

“I’ve already had the genetic testing done at a place called GenLabs in Carson City.”

“You did?” he asked intently.

She nodded.

“When?”

“About three weeks ago. Lincoln asked me to have it done, but he died before we got the results,” she said, her hushed voice quaking. From the periphery of her vision she saw his hand came off his thigh jerkily, but then he replaced it. A strained silence followed. For a split second, she’d thought he meant to touch her … to comfort, before logic had set in. Her heart thrummed louder in her ears as she stared fixedly out the front window.

“And?” he asked in a subdued tone.

“They told me at the lab that the results would take up to seven weeks. We should have the results before Christmas. They agreed to call me and tell me the final result before they send out the report.”

She turned when he exhaled raggedly. He looked tense.

“What’s wrong? Aren’t you glad that I’ve had the testing? It’s what you and John Kellerman and everybody at DuBois wanted all along.”

“Of course I’m glad. Now there’s nothing to do but get to know one another better. And wait.”

“Why should the results matter so much to you? I won’t make any claims on Lincoln’s assets one way or another.”

He laughed softly … mirthlessly. He had dimples. It had struck her as amazing the first time she’d met him to see those two indentations in such a formidable face. She recalled how once she’d seen some graffiti painted on a craggy rock face of the mountains several miles outside of the Bagram Air Base in Afghanistan—a smiley face grinning innocuously from a war zone.

She had a similar reaction to Nick’s dimples.

“You make it sound so simple,” he murmured.

“It is simple.”

“It never was simple, and it just got exponentially more complicated.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked slowly.

“I came to Harbor Town to tell you that Lincoln had a new will drawn up. He’s left you half of the wealth and property he didn’t leave to charity. He’s also left you a fifty percent controlling interest in DuBois Enterprises.”