Sugar Daddy (Travis Family #1)(102)

I heard Hardy's voice as if from a great distance. "Liberty...who do you think Carrington's father is?"

CHAPTER 24

I drove away from Hardy's apartment building, intending to go straight to River Oaks and confront Churchill. I was in more turmoil than I had been at any time since Mama had died. I was strangely calm on the outside, even though my mind and heart were in anarchy. // can't be true, I thought over and over. I didn't want it to be true.

If Churchill was Carrington's father...I thought about the times we'd been hungry, the hardships, the times she'd asked why she didn't have a daddy when her friends did. I'd showed her the picture of my father and said, "This is our daddy," and I'd told her how much he loved her even though he was living in heaven. I thought of the birthdays and holidays, the times she'd been sick, all the things she'd had to do without...

If Churchill was Carrington's father, he didn't owe a damn thing to me. But he owed plenty to her.

Before I realized what I was doing. I found myself driving up to the gated entrance of

the garage at 1800 Main. The security guard asked for my driver's license, and I hesitated, thinking I should tell him I'd made a mistake, I hadn't meant to come here. Instead I showed it to him and drove into the residents' parking section, and stopped the car. I wanted to see Gage. I didn't even know if he was home.

My finger was shaking as I pressed the button for the eighteenth floor, a little from fear but mostly from anger. Despite Mexican women's reputation for having hot tempers, I was pretty mild-mannered most of the time. I didn't like getting angry, I hated the bitter adrenaline rush that came with it. But at the moment I was ready to explode. I wanted to throw things.

I went to Gage's door with long, heel-digging strides, and hammered with a force that bruised my knuckles. When there was no response, I raised my fist to hammer again, and nearly pitched forward as the door was opened.

Gage stood there, looking calm and capable as always. "Liberty..." A question tipped the last syllable of my name. His light gaze swept over me, coming to rest on my flushed face. He reached out to draw me inside the apartment. I jerked away from him as I stepped over the threshold. "What's going on, sweetheart?"

I couldn't bear the warmth in his voice, or my own aching need, even now, to bury myself against him. "Don't you dare pretend you're concerned about me," I stormed, throwing my purse to the floor. "I can't believe what you've done, when I've been nothing but honest with you!"

Gage's expression cooled considerably. "It would help." he said in a pleasant tone, "if you'd tell me what we're talking about."

"You know exactly why I'm angry. You hired someone to follow me. You've been spying on me. I don't understand why. I've done nothing to deserve being treated like this—"

"Calm down."

Most men don't seem to get that telling a pissed-off woman to calm down is like throwing gunpowder on a fire.

"I don't want to calm down. I want to know why the hell you've done this!"

"If you kept your promise." Gage pointed out. "you have no reason to worry about someone keeping an eye on you."

"Then you admit you hired someone to follow me? Oh, God, you did, I can see it on your face. Damn you, I haven't slept with him. You should have trusted me."

"I've always believed in the old saying 'Trust but verify.'"

"That may work great for business," I said in a murderous voice, "but not in a relationship. I want it stopped now. I don't want to be followed anymore. Get rid of him!"

"All right. All right."

Surprised that he'd agreed so readily, I shot him a wary glance.

Gage was staring at me oddly now, and I realized I was trembling visibly. My rage had fled, leaving me with a sense of sick despair. I wasn't at all certain how I'd gotten to be in the middle of a tug-of-war between two ruthless men.. .not to mention Churchill. I was tired of it. tired of everything, especially the swarm of unanswered questions. I didn't know where to go or what to do with myself.

"Liberty," he said carefully, "I know you haven't slept with him. I do trust you. Damn it. I'm sorry. I couldn't stand back and wait when I wanted something—someone—this badly. I can't let go of you without a fight."

"Is this all about winning? Is it some kind of contest to you?"

"No, it's not a contest. I want you. I want things I'm not sure you're ready to hear about yet. Most of all I want to hold you until you stop shaking." His voice turned hoarse. "Let me hold you, Liberty."

I was still, wondering if I could trust him. wishing I could think straight. As I stared at him, I saw the frustration in his eyes, and the need. "Please," he said.

I went forward, and he caught me tightly against him. "There's my girl," came his low murmur. I buried my face against his shoulder, inhaling the familiar spice of his skin. Relief flowed over me, and I fought to get closer, needing more of him than my arms could encompass.

After a while Gage eased me to the sofa, kneading my back and hips. Our legs tangled together, and my head was on his shoulder, and I would have thought I was in heaven if the sofa hadn't been so hard.

"You need throw pillows." I said in a muffled voice.