The Baby Inheritance

For most of his life, Reed, as the oldest child in the wildly eclectic and extended immediate family, had been the one who stepped in and kept things moving. When his siblings had a problem, they came to him. When his parents needed a fast divorce in order to marry their next “true love,” they came to him. When the apocalypse finally arrived, he had no doubt that they would all turn to him, expecting Reed to save all of their asses. He was used to it and had long ago accepted his role in the Hudson clan. The fact that his experience as a mediator had served him so well as an attorney was simply a bonus.

Looking at his latest client, Reed thought back over the past year and remembered the innumerable articles and pictures flashed across the tabloids. Carson Duke and his wife, Tia Brennan, had graced the covers of magazines and the pages of newspapers, and the two had been favorites on the celebrity websites. They’d had a whirlwind romance that had ended in a fairy-tale wedding on a Hawaiian cliff overlooking the Pacific.

Stories proclaiming the nearly magical connection between the two, holding them up as examples of what “real” love looked like, had been printed, pored over and discussed all across the world. Yet here Carson sat, a little more than a year later, hiring Reed to represent him in a divorce that promised to be as high-profile as the marriage had been.

“Let’s get down to business then,” Reed said and looked at the man across from him. Just like in his movies, Carson Duke looked tough, determined and had the cool, hard gaze of a seasoned warrior. Not surprising, since the star had been a US Marine before turning to Hollywood. “First tell me what your wife thinks about all of this.”

Carson sighed, shoved one hand through his hair and then blurted out, “It was her idea. Things have been rough between us for a while now.” It looked as though every word he spoke tasted bitter. “She—we—decided that it would be better, for both of us, if we just end the marriage and walk away now, before things get ugly.”

“Uh-huh.” Duke sounded reasonable, but so many of Reed’s clients did when they were first entering the muddy swamp of litigation. Couples determined to remain “friendly” eventually succumbed to name-calling and vicious diatribes. Reed wasn’t looking forward to watching Carson and his wife go down that path. “I need to know—are you seeing someone else? Is another woman at the bottom of all this? I will find out sooner or later, so it would be better for all of us if you tell me now so there are no surprises.”

Carson stiffened, but Reed held up a hand to silence what would no doubt be a tirade of insult and outrage. All of his clients tended to paint themselves as the injured party, and if Reed wasn’t careful, he could be blindsided by a scorned lover testifying for the opposition. Better to have as much information as possible from the jump. “These are questions I have to ask. If you’re smart, you’ll answer.”

Carson stewed in his chair for a second or two, looked as though he’d like to punch something, then surged to his feet in one smooth motion.

“No,” he snapped, and paced across the room to stop at one of the wide windows overlooking the sweep of ocean stretching out into the distance. He stared through the glass for several long seconds, as if trying to calm down, then turned his head to look directly at Reed. “No. I didn’t cheat. Neither did Tia.”

Reed’s eyebrows arched. First time he’d heard a client defend a spouse. “You’re sure about her?”

“Absolutely.” Carson shook his head and looked back through the glass at the sunlight dancing on the ocean’s surface. “This isn’t about cheating or lying or any other damn thing.”

Intriguing. The old irreconcilable differences plea was usually just an excuse to keep secrets private. There were always reasons for a divorce, and in Reed’s experience, cheating was right at the top of the list.

“Then why are you here?” Reed asked, leaning back in his black leather desk chair.

“Because we’re not happy anymore.” Carson laid one hand on the glass. “It started out great,” he continued as if to himself. “Tia and I met and it was like...magic. You know?”

“No,” Reed said, smiling. “But I’ll take your word for it.”

Carson shook his head. “We couldn’t keep our hands off each other. From that first moment, there was something powerful between us.” He smiled, and shot Reed another quick glance. “It was more than sex, though. We used to talk all night, laughing, planning, talking about moving out of Hollywood, having kids. But the last few months, between work and other demands on both of us...hell. We hardly see each other anymore. So why be married?”

Pitiful excuse to sentence yourself to divorce court, but then, Reed silently acknowledged, he’d heard worse. He’d once represented a man who claimed he needed a divorce because his wife kept hiding cookies from him. Reed had almost advised him to buy his own damn cookies, but had figured it was none of his business. Because the cookies weren’t the real reason. They were simply the excuse. The man wanted a divorce; Reed would get it for him. That was his job. He wasn’t a marriage counselor, after all.

“All right then,” Reed said briskly. “I’ll get the paperwork started. Tia won’t be contesting the divorce?”

“No.” Carson shoved both hands into his pockets. “Like I said. Her idea.”

“That’ll make it easier,” Reed told him.

Wryly, Carson whispered, “I suppose that’s a good thing.”

“It is.” Reed watched his client and felt a stir of sympathy. He wasn’t a cold man. He knew that people came to him when their worlds were dissolving. In order to maintain a professional distance, he sometimes came off as harsh when all he was trying to do was to be a rock for his clients. To be the one stable point in a suddenly rocking world. And as he studied Carson Duke, he knew the man didn’t need pity, he needed someone to guide him through unfamiliar waters. “Trust me,” Reed said. “You don’t want a long, drawn-out battle described daily in the tabloids.”

Carson shuddered at the idea. “I can’t even take the trash out at my house without some photographer leaning out of a tree for a picture. You know, on the drive down here from Malibu, I was telling myself that it’d be a hell of a lot easier on most of us if your office was in LA—but getting away from most of the paparazzi is worth the drive.”

Over the years, Reed had told himself the same thing about relocating to Los Angeles many times, but damned if he could convince himself to move. A quick glance around his office only reinforced that feeling. The building itself was old—built in 1890—though thankfully it had been spared the Victorian gingerbread so popular at the time. He’d bought the building, had it completely remodeled and now, it was just as he wanted it. Character on the outside, sleek and elegant on the inside, plus the office was only a fifteen-minute drive from his home.

Besides, Reed preferred Orange County. Liked the fact that Newport Beach sprawled out in front of his two-story building crouched on the Pacific Coast Highway and he had the majestic sweep of ocean behind him. Sure, in the summer the streets were crowded with tourists—but he’d have the same problem in LA without the beautiful setting. Newport Beach was more laid-back than LA, but upscale enough to convince clients they were with the right attorney. Besides, if he had to drive the 405 freeway every night to get from his office to his home at the Saint Regis hotel in Laguna Beach, he’d be spending more than two hours a night just sitting in traffic. If clients wanted the best, then they’d better be ready to do the drive.

“I’ll have the papers drawn up and messengered to you in a few days.”

“No need,” the other man said. “I’m taking a few days. Staying at the Saint Regis Monarch. I’ve got a suite there.”

Since Reed lived in a massive suite at the exclusive, five-star resort, he knew the hotel would give Carson the distance he wanted from Hollywood and the scoop-hungry photographers who would be hunting him once news of an impending divorce hit the media. And it would hit, no matter how they tried to keep it quiet. If Carson or Tia’s people didn’t release the news, then someone along the chain of information would. There were always leaks no matter how hard you tried to keep things confidential. It wouldn’t come from Reed’s staff, that he knew. They were paid extremely well—not just for their expertise, but for their discretion—and knew their jobs depended on their ability to keep their clients’ business to themselves.

But there were others out there Reed had no control over. Everyone from valets at the Monarch to desk clerks and hotel maids. Once the media found out where Carson was staying, they’d continue to dig until they found out why the action star was holed up sixty miles from his house.

“You live at the Monarch, don’t you?” Carson asked.

“Yeah, I do. So once the paperwork is completed, I’ll have it all sent to your room for signing.”

“Convenient, huh?” Carson said wryly. “Anyway, I’m registered under the name Wyatt Earp.”

Reed laughed. The wildly famous usually signed into hotels under false names to keep those not in their immediate circle from knowing where they were. “Got it,” he said. “I’ll be in touch.”

“Right.” Carson nodded. “Thanks, I guess.”

Reed watched the man go and once the office door was closed again, he walked to the windows behind his desk and stared out at the view of the ocean as his client had done only moments ago. He’d been through this so many times now, with so many people, he knew what Carson Duke was feeling, thinking. The big decision had been made. The divorce was in play. Now he was feeling a mixture of relief and sorrow and wondering if he was doing the right thing.

Oh, sure, there were plenty of people who divorced with joy in their hearts and a spring in their steps. But they weren’t the rule. Generally, people felt the pain of losing something they’d once pinned their hopes and dreams on. Hell, Reed had seen it in his own family time and again. Each of his parents invariably entered a marriage thinking that this time would be the last. The one. True love and they would finally live happily ever after.

“And they’re never right,” he murmured, shaking his head.

Once again, he was reminded that he’d made the right life choice in never letting himself fall into the trap of convincing himself that good, healthy lust was some kind of romantic love destined to transform his life.

At that thought, he snorted in amusement, then walked back to his desk to begin drafting Carson Duke’s divorce papers.

* * *

Lilah Strong took her time driving along Pacific Coast Highway. The scenery was wildly different from what she was used to and she intended to enjoy it in spite of the hot ball of anger nestled deep in her belly. She didn’t like being angry. It always felt to her like a waste of emotion. The person she was furious with didn’t care how she felt. Her anger affected no one but her...by making her a little nauseous.

But knowing that did nothing to ease the underlying tension that burned inside her. So rather than try to ease that uncomfortable feeling, she briefly distracted herself by glancing out at the ocean.

It was lovely—surfers gliding toward shore on the tops of waves. Sunlight glinting off the deep blue surface of the sea. Boats with jewel-toned sails and children building castles in the sand armed with nothing more than tiny buckets and shovels.

Lilah was a mountain girl, through and through. Her preferred view was of a tree-laden slope, wide-open meadows covered in bright splashes of wildflowers or the snowy mountainsides that backed up to her house. But looking out at the Pacific was a nice change. Of course, she had time to look at the sea while driving only because she wasn’t actually “driving.” It was more...parking.

Pacific Coast Highway was completely backed up with locals, tourists and, it seemed to her, every surfer in Southern California. It was the middle of June and Lilah could imagine that the crowds would only be getting thicker as the summer went on. But thankfully, that wouldn’t be her problem.

In a day or two, she’d be back in the mountains, leaving her companion here in Orange County. That thought gave her heart a hard squeeze, but there was nothing she could do about it. It wasn’t as if she’d had a choice in any of this. If she’d been someone else, maybe she would have considered ignoring facts. But she couldn’t live a lie. She had to do the right thing—even if it felt wrong.

Glancing into the rearview mirror, she looked at her companion and said, “You’re awfully quiet. Too much to think about to leave room for talking, hmm? I know how you feel.”

Her own mind was spinning. Lilah had been dreading this trip to California for two weeks and now that it was here, she was still trying to think of a way out of the situation she found herself in. But no matter how she looked at it, Lilah was stuck. As was her friend in the backseat.

If she were doing this on her turf, so to speak, she might feel a little more in control. Back in her small mountain town in Utah, she had friends. People she could count on to stand with her. Here, all she had were her own two feet and that sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach.

Orange County, California, was only an hour-and-a-half flight from Lilah’s home, but it might as well have been on the other side of the world. She was walking into the unknown with no way out but through.