LITMIR.BIZ

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for a few moments. We can continue our discussion in the boardroom. Would you like a coffee?”

      He nodded. This situation was just getting stranger and stranger. Coffee would help. He let her pour him a cup, then added his own cream before following her down a short hall to a room on the left.

      Like the reception area, the conference room was decorated in a modern, minimalistic style. He squinted at the odd black-and-white photos on the wall.

      “Close-ups of paper clips,” the woman explained, which really explained nothing, as far as Patrick was concerned. Why put paper clips on your wall when you could have something truly beautiful, like a photograph of mountains, or the ocean or even one graceful tree?

      “Please sit down and make yourself comfortable.” Nadine Kimble opened a notebook and pulled out a pen. “Now—who would you like us to find?”

      He had an urge to question her credentials, but he supposed that was sexist of him. Just because she was little and cute and extremely feminine didn’t mean she couldn’t be a kick-ass investigator. Plus, this was the place that had been recommended.

      With care, he removed the items in his coat pocket, first the book, then the package. Her eyes fell on the book. It was upside-down and his author photo was clearly visible.

      “Is that you?” She reached across the table. “May I look?”

      Action and Adventure in New Zealand was his sixth book. This ought to be old hat to him by now. But he still felt a rush of pride at seeing his picture, and his name, right there on the cover.

      “By all means. I just received that copy from my publisher. The book won’t be available in stores for another month.”

      “So, you’re an author. Of travel books.”

      She sounded impressed.

      Many women were.

      This is not some girl you’re trying to chat up at the bar. Still, he found himself giving her his regular spiel. “I prefer to think of it as adventure travel. For people who are fit and up for a challenge and want to explore new places in ways that most tourists never experience.”

      “That sounds wonderful.” She flipped through the pages, stopping to look at some of the pictures. Then she gave him a rueful smile. “I’m sorry. I’m getting distracted, aren’t I?”

      She set the book to the side, then folded her arms on the table and leaned in toward him. “Tell me why you’re here.” She glanced expectantly at the manila envelope he’d placed on the table.

      He covered the envelope with a protective hand. He felt as if something thick and hard had suddenly lodged in his throat. Even though he’d already decided this was the most expeditious solution, he suddenly wasn’t sure he could share his very personal situation with a stranger.

      But what choice did he have? The revisions on his Alaska manuscript were due at the publishers in three weeks. He had no time to handle this himself. Wasn’t even sure how to go about it, truth be told.

      “I need your help to—” His voice cracked. He took a sip of coffee, then managed to get the rest out. “To find my son.”

      CHAPTER TWO

      NADINE STARED AT THE MANILA envelope on the table, her feet suddenly as cold as ice.

      Was this case going to be something she could handle on her own? What would she do if it wasn’t?

      She’d been hoping her first client would be a nice, old lady, missing a piece of antique jewelry. Or maybe a sweet, young husband, worried that his new wife was unfaithful. Of course, in Nadine’s imagination, she wasn’t….

      But instead she’d ended up with this strong, forceful man brimming with masculine vitality. Patrick O’Neil seemed not quite wild, but close to it, with thick, unruly, chestnut-colored hair, and a body packed with solid muscles.

      She’d never met anyone like him, and felt completely out of her element. For heaven’s sake, he was an adventurer by trade. The book he’d just shown her had a picture of a guy paragliding off a cliff and she had no doubt that it was Patrick O’Neil himself in the photograph.

      She swallowed, desperate to moisten her parched mouth. She couldn’t let him see that she was intimidated. After all, he was here because he needed help.

      “Your son…has he run away?” she asked, trying to sound as if she’d seen it all and didn’t expect to be surprised.

      He seemed impatient as he shook his head. “Not really. The situation is complicated. Six weeks ago, when I left on a working trip to Alaska, I didn’t even know I had a son. I found this envelope piled up with the rest of the mail that had collected over the six weeks I was away.”

      From the larger envelope, he pulled out two smaller letters. One of them had been opened. The other—addressed simply to Stephen—still sealed.

      Puzzled, Nadine waited for him to explain.

      “These letters were written by an old girlfriend. One was addressed to me, the other to a young man named Stephen.” He ran a hand through his already mussed hair. “A young man she claims is my son.”

      Again Nadine struggled to keep her expression neutral, as if she ran across situations like this all the time. “And is he?”

      He shrugged. “I assume so. June Stone and I dated in our senior year of high school. After graduation, she went to university, while I worked until I had enough money for my first trip to Europe. We’d always known we had different plans, so our breakup was inevitable.”

      “Where does the baby fit in?”

      “Apparently June was pregnant when we broke up.”

      “And you didn’t know?”

      “No. In her letter, June said she decided not to tell me because she didn’t want me to feel like she was trying to trap me into marriage.”

      “I assume she kept the baby?”

      “Yes. She named our son Stephen and raised him on her own. He’s eighteen years old now, and he doesn’t even know I exist.”

      “June must have told him something about his father.”

      “Apparently she led him to believe that his father was dead.” Patrick shifted anxiously in his seat. “She said when he was young, she didn’t have the courage to tell him the truth, and once she became ill, she didn’t have the strength.”

      “I see.” Perhaps June had been telling him the truth. But Nadine knew it was her job to be skeptical, to accept nothing at face value. “So why contact you now?”

      “In a way, she didn’t. This letter was mailed posthumously.”

      Nadine felt her eyes widen and quickly glanced down so he wouldn’t see her surprise. “I’m sorry.”

      He nodded, accepting her brief statement of condolence. “Apparently it was her wish that these letters were to be mailed to me after her death. As soon as I read the one addressed to me, I went on the Web and found her obituary. She died of cancer five weeks ago.”

      His story was sounding like something from a movie, poignant and romantic. Nadine reminded herself that her job was to be objective and analytical. “Why do you think she wanted you to know about Stephen now?”

      “She felt that since her son no longer had a mother, he might need a father.” He shook his head. “She asked if I would contact Stephen and deliver this second letter in person.”

      Nadine eyed the unopened envelope. Why hadn’t June asked for that letter to be mailed directly to Stephen? There was only one reason she could think of. “She didn’t want her son to know the truth unless you were prepared to meet with him.”

      “Exactly. Whether Stephen and I strike up a relationship is up to us, June wrote, but she did

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