Millionaire in Command Read online

  The hairs on the back of his neck prickled.

  He had slept with Bianca Thompson, but he’d used protection—he always did. They hadn’t known each other well. It had been more of an impulsive hookup on both their parts, over a year ago, before he’d left for a year-long deployment to Afghanistan.

  Just about the right timing.

  His gaze snapped to the kid blinking groggily at him with light blue eyes just like his mother, brothers…Damn. Plenty of people had blue eyes, and plenty of people knew what his family looked like. And those same people would know about the Landis family’s hefty investment portfolio. His youngest brother had even had a false paternity suit filed against him by someone he’d actually cared about.

  Kyle bit back a curse. He needed to stop this conversation now, until he could regroup with some more information on this woman. Preferably in a place where he didn’t have to worry about everyone from the press to the governor of South Carolina overhearing.

  “Ma’am—”

  “Slater. I am Phoebe Slater.” She rubbed soothing little circles between the baby’s shoulders, swaying back and forth like a pro.

  Impressive. He knew from his brother and sister-in-law how tough it was to keep a little rug rat quiet at this age.

  “Okay, Ms. Slater, let’s schedule a time for this conversation when we’re not trying to speak over a band and we’re certain not to be interrupted—”

  “And this is Nina.” She angled sideways so the baby’s chubby-cheeked face was fully in view.

  Cute kid. But that was irrelevant. “I don’t think this is the—”

  “Her mother is Bianca Thompson.”

  She’d said that already, but hearing it again made him really look at the baby. She didn’t have Bianca’s red hair. The baby had dark brown hair. Like him. “Where is Bianca? Why am I talking to you instead of her?”

  His suspicions mounted as he tried to put the pieces together before this blew up in a very public setting. His mother had gone to a lot of trouble putting together this shindig commemorating his homecoming. It meant a lot to her, since this also marked the end of his military commitment. In two weeks, he would start his new career as the head of the Landis Foundation’s international interests.

  He didn’t want his family upset needlessly by a scene. Family was everything.

  His eyes flicked uneasily back to the baby, looking too darn cute in her pink dress.

  “I was only supposed to watch Nina until Bianca settled in at her new place in Southern Florida. Then weeks turned into months. When she stopped calling, I got worried and notified the police to file a missing person’s report. Which then brought child services into the picture, and if I don’t figure out something soon—” Phoebe’s chin quivered briefly before steadying again “—they’re going to put Nina into the foster care system.”

  He wasn’t sure what she was up to anymore, but truth be told, even a conversation with a crazy woman was more engaging than the small talk he’d made tonight with people who were mostly here for the free food and a chance to rub elbows with politicians. Phoebe Slater was anything but boring.

  “So you want me to take in this child, with no proof of who you are or who this kid is.”

  “Just hear me out.” Her eyes turned a deeper shade of brown, panic glinting.

  His instincts went on alert. If this woman was a crook—or a psycho—the kid could be in danger. That changed things entirely. “You know, maybe I should hold the baby after all, while we check into things.”

  “You’re doubting me now, aren’t you? Smart man.”

  She secured the sleeping baby and leaned to dig through the voluminous diaper bag on the bench. Good Lord, he could have stuffed all his military gear in that sack.

  His eyes dropped to her hips, to the sweet curve of her bottom as she rifled past diapers and a bottle. Was she really a college professor? He’d certainly never had any profs that looked like her.

  What a waste to have all that appeal packaged in a woman he couldn’t go anywhere near. She straightened and turned back to face him, drawing his eyes upward.

  “Okay, Captain Landis, I thought you would want proof. And well you should.” She pulled out a file of papers. “I’ve got her birth certificate, photos and a notarized letter from Bianca stating I’m a babysitter for Nina, authorizing me to get medical attention for her. I even included a copy of my driver’s license.”

  He took the file from her and flipped it open, angling so his shoulders blocked any passersby from possibly seeing the contents. He scanned the first page, with pictures of Bianca Thompson holding a baby with wide blue eyes.

  The hair on the back of his neck prickled again. He turned to the next page and read through the birth certificate…

  With his name in the “father” box.

  He exhaled hard. True or not, he still needed a second to process seeing his name in that context. Not that he had anything against kids—he liked his nephew well enough. He’d just planned to leave perpetuating the Landis name to his brothers.

  Thumbing to the last page, he found a copy of Phoebe Slater’s driver’s license. The picture was unflattering, to say the least, with eyes deer-in-the-headlight wide and no smile, but without question it was her.

  All of which proved nothing, in and of itself. Why the hell hadn’t Bianca notified him? She had plenty of contact numbers. He may have been out of the country, but his family had all been firmly here on U.S. soil.

  The more he thought about this, the less it made sense. If the little girl was his, he would move forward and take responsibility. Landises didn’t shirk their responsibilities. But, for the child’s safety as well, he needed to investigate this claim and this woman further.

  He closed the file and tucked it under his arm. “I’m going to need some time to look over this. I can’t just take home a child because you say—”

  She laughed, her breath gusting a straggled strand of blond hair. She scraped it away and behind her ear. “No, you completely misunderstand. I don’t want you to take her. I got the message loud and clear from Bianca that you’re not interested in settling down. And truly, I love this little girl.” She rested her cheek on top of the baby’s head with unmistakable maternal affection. “I want to be her mother. I want to adopt her, if at all possible.”

  He should be relieved…but something was still off. His instincts from battling overseas bellowed loud and clear that there were more land mines ahead. “Then why are you here?”

  “I’m here to keep Nina out of the foster care system,” she said, her words tumbling together as she blurted, “I’m here to ask you to marry me.”

  Two

  P hoebe bit her lip, cringing inside over having blurted the “proposal” rather than easing him into the idea the way she’d mentally rehearsed.

  Too late to call back the words now. The band segued into a Motown ballad, the crooner’s tune filling the silence while she waited for Kyle’s reaction. Not for the first time, she cursed Bianca for disappearing, while praying that her old friend hadn’t landed in some kind of trouble. Or worse.

  Meanwhile, she had to make use of whatever allies she could find, and please, please she hoped Kyle would fall into that category. She searched his face for some clue of his feelings, but he guarded his emotions well.

  Finally, he raised a hand shoulder-high.

  She tensed, wondering, waiting and definitely keeping her trap shut for now. She was a thinker, a plotter, damn it. Bianca was the impulsive one.

  Kyle spanned a broad palm along Nina’s back protectively, his gold college ring glinting in the flickering candlelight. “Let me hold the kid for a minute.”

  Relief gusted from her so fully that she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding her breath. She’d hardly dared hope it would be this easy for him to connect with his daughter—

  Then the glow from the pewter tiki torches revealed the glimmer of alarm in his eyes, quickly covered as he flashed a pacifying smile.

 
Damn.

  He thought she was off her rocker to the point he feared for Nina. As if she would do anything to harm this child. Although she’d surely screwed up in pushing so hard and fast for his help.

  “I’m not crazy, and I’m the last person who would ever hurt Nina.” She cradled the sleeping girl closer until he relaxed his hands, if not his stance. “I didn’t mean to spring that last part on you so bluntly, but you were ready to leave and I don’t have time to be subtle.”

  “Is there a subtle way to ask a total stranger to marry you?”

  Phoebe ignored his sarcasm. “Child services is going to take her since I can’t find her mother. I just need to buy a little time until I can settle things for Nina.”

  She didn’t know what else to do. Nina had no one except her…And this man. Her father.

  “I still think you’re half-cracked, but I’m listening.” He folded his arms over his chest.

  Was he settling in or blocking her exit? Either way, she needed to talk fast.

  “Okay, so maybe the marriage idea seems extreme, but I’m desperate here.” Backing off the proposal seemed prudent since she had a serious aversion to ending up in a straitjacket. “My primary concern is keeping Nina secure. She’s already had too much upheaval, with Bianca dropping out of her life so abruptly.”

  “This is a lot to digest,” he said, his voice neutral, his eyes still watching her guardedly.

  His military aura swelled unmistakably. He might not be thinking of himself as Nina’s father, but he clearly would stand between the baby girl and any perceived threat all the same.

  Her frayed nerves snapped. “If you can think of another alternative to keeping her out of the foster care system, I’m more than happy to climb on board.”

  He cocked a thick, dark brow. “Excuse me for being slow on the uptake, but I didn’t know until ninety seconds ago that I even had a child.”

  “If you’d stayed in touch with Bianca after you deployed, you may have—” She bit her tongue to keep from saying anything else, when she longed to shout out her frustration as she saw her last hope for help slipping away.

  His eyebrows slammed down and together. “You can’t actually be blaming me because Bianca kept this a secret. If what you say is even true. I had my hands full fighting a war.”

  Her anger defused and sympathy slid into the void. “I’m sorry. You’re right. This is a lot to take in and I don’t mean to be combative.”

  His jaw flexed as he paused to gather his composure. “Arguing won’t get us anywhere.”

  “I completely agree.”

  Still, he kept his post in front of the arbor trellis, sprawling ivy cascading down the sides like spiky tentacles ready to snag her in place. “Regardless of what came before, we need to decide on a plan of action from this point forward, which I absolutely refuse to talk about in a place where anyone could overhear. There are no less than seven people from the press attending this shindig my mother put together to welcome me back.”

  He had a point there. While press coverage could be helpful in finding Bianca, it could also bring the wrath of child services down on her head. She had to strike a delicate balance here.

  At least Kyle was still talking to her. Maybe he would have an idea, and if not, then she could bring up the marriage idea again with more finesse. It was outrageous, sure, but not that totally out there. She reassured herself for probably the thousandth time that this wasn’t a totally crazy idea. Although she could imagine her long-dead parents wincing over her whole plan.

  She’d thought this through. People got hitched in Vegas every day for far more flimsy reasons. Wedding vows meant next to nothing to most people these days.

  And they would certainly mean nothing to her ever again.

  She started toward him. Their cubby of space went darker as another person strode under the ivy-covered arch, snapping Phoebe back into the present. She needed to be on guard for those press people he’d mentioned. Backlit, the shadowy figure was still obviously a woman.

  “Kyle, dear, there you are.” An older blond woman stepped into the glow of the flickering light. She rested a hand on his arm, manicured nails tipped white.

  His mother.

  Even if Ginger Landis Renshaw weren’t famous for her political prowess as a former senator and then secretary of state, Phoebe would have noticed the family resemblance. Their hair color was different but their faces, their smiles, were the same.

  Somewhere in her early fifties and carrying it well, Ginger smoothed a hand over her simple red Chanel evening gown, almost managing to disguise her curiosity. “Our guests are beginning to ask where you’ve run off to.”

  “Mom, we need to find an empty room and talk. Immediately.” He stepped aside, clearing the view for the woman’s gaze to fall squarely on Phoebe.

  Ginger’s blue eyes darkened from curiosity to concern. “Kyle? What’s going on?”

  “Not now, Mom,” he said quietly, his voice urgent. “We need to move this to a room, preferably one with a closed door.”

  She straightened with a take-charge efficiency that had won respect around the world during her secretary-of-state days. That political sway continued now in her tenure as ambassador to a small but politically powerful South-American country. “Of course. This way.”

  She tucked out of their garden nook and sliced a path straight into the country club. A quick flick of her hand had the manager rushing ahead to unlock his office. Phoebe followed, unable to squelch her awe at this woman who made things happen so effortlessly.

  Damn it. Forget awe. She would stand down anyone for Nina if need be. But she hoped she would find an ally in a political powerhouse.

  The door clicked closed behind them, sealing them inside an office with looming dark furniture and heavy tapestry upholstery. The scent of furniture polish and fresh-cut flowers coated the air thickly.

  Ginger turned toward her son but looked at Phoebe and gestured toward a wingback chair. “Have a seat, dear. Even little babies can grow quite heavy when you’ve been holding them for too long.”

  Phoebe blinked back her surprise and sat. Disobeying this woman wouldn’t dawn on her, and her feet were throbbing. All the same, she wouldn’t relax her guard for even a second. Winning his mother’s support was just as important as gaining Kyle’s trust.

  Ginger pinned her son with a questioning stare.

  He scratched the back of his neck. “Mom, it appears I may have left a child behind when I went to Afghanistan.”

  Kyle knew one thing in this crazy, mixed-up night. Give a Landis a crisis and they start things cranking at Mach speed.

  He had no more than announced the possibility of this child being his and his mom had spun into action. She’d called for her trusted assistant and gathered the rest of the family. So much for keeping things secret.

  With four Landis brothers, two of whom were married, that made for quite a group packed into the country club office. His brother Sebastian sat at the sprawling wood desk, putting his legal eagle-eye and degree to work reviewing the documents. The rest of the family seemed transfixed around the wingback chair where Phoebe fed the little scrap of a kid a bottle. Kyle paced. He damn near wore a hole in the Persian rug as he moved restlessly behind his brother. Sebastian was a year younger than Kyle, but his quiet soberness had always made him seem older. They needed his calm efficiency right now.

  Sebastian closed the file and glanced up somberly. “Is she your daughter?”

  Kyle stopped in his tracks and dropped to sit on the edge of the desk, his foot twitching. “It’s a distinct possibility.” A possibility that still sucker-punched him harder than the missile that had taken down his aircraft in Afghanistan. He pinched the bridge of his nose briefly before his hand fell away. “If she’s really Bianca Thompson’s daughter, the timing of our, uh, week together lines up.”

  “A week, huh?” A rare hint of humor lit his normally serious brother’s eyes.

  Kyle wasn’t in the mood to laugh. “We hook
ed up when I was in between rotations overseas. Neither of us was interested in anything long-term.”

  “You never are.” Sebastian looked away and back at the papers.

  Yeah, he wasn’t known for serious relationships, but at least he understood himself, rather than sending out mixed signals. “Which makes it all the more ironic that Phoebe would toss out a marriage proposal to me.”

  “I think it makes her seem like a more logical type.” Sebastian kept his voice low enough that the cluster of people a few feet away wouldn’t hear. “If she knows your reputation, then she has no reason to worry about you growing attached to her or the baby.”

  “She said she only tossed it out there in desperation. That she didn’t really mean it, and could I come up with something else.” Still it rattled around in his head. “You got any suggestions?”

  Sebastian scrubbed a hand over his face, a near mirror image of Kyle’s. “I think the first order of business is finding out if she’s really yours. I’ve never been one who could see Great-aunt Whoever’s chin on some infant, but I have to confess, she looks just like a Landis.”

  The uncertainty was already chewing him up inside. “Any idea how long it takes for the results of a paternity test?”

  “Gotta admit, I’ve never needed one.” His eyes slid over to his wife with obvious affection. Their son had been born a few months ago, a surprise pregnancy after the crushing loss of the baby daughter they’d adopted, only to have the birth mother change her mind. “Jonah should know, though.”

  Their youngest brother had always been a hell-raiser, so much so that after a while it became tough to distinguish between truth and reputation. Kyle had always understood his younger brother better than the rest of the family, although the military had helped him rein in his wilder impulses.

  And yet still, somehow, he may have screwed up. “The sooner we can clear this up, the better.”