She wiped her eyes and smiled at him. “It’ll be a good Christmas tomorrow, you’ll see. Let’s plan to make cookies. We can watch TV all day long, just you and me. It’ll be fabulous.”

He forced a smile and nodded eagerly at her.

One day the men would pay for the pain they’d caused his mother.

27

Once a week Ava allowed herself a whole milk, sugary, syrupy coffee drink. Every other day she stuck with black coffee. As she pushed open the door from her usual coffee shop, she took a sip of her pumpkin spice latte and every nerve receptor in her mouth sighed in happiness. Now today felt like Halloween.

The employees had dressed up for the holiday. Iron Man had taken her order and a sexy nurse had made her latte. Somehow it’d made her drink taste even better, and she’d needed the jolt of sugar and caffeine after her late night. Mason had stayed up with her, talking about Zander. Ava had held back tears as she told him about his wife and baby.

“I knew something horrible had happened to his wife,” Mason had said. “But a baby, too? I can’t imagine.”

“I wonder if he’ll want more children,” Ava speculated. “I don’t think he’s forty yet.”

Mason shook his head. “That’s a hard one to answer. I’m glad I’m done.”

Her heart had cracked at his answer. It was a subject they’d touched a few times, and she’d been positive that kids weren’t for her.

But now she wondered if she was misleading him.

Am I?

She still didn’t know.

Lost in thought, she glanced up as two men blocked her path. She froze as she recognized her stalker, David.

She dropped her coffee and reached for the weapon in her bag. “Don’t move,” she ordered, stepping backward. A dozen scenarios flashed in her head as she realized she’d never get her gun out in time. Foot to his crotch. Elbow to his throat. Run!

“Ava, wait! I didn’t mean to startle you,” David pleaded.

“Special Agent McLane,” stated the other man, pulling out a wallet. “I’m a private investigator in the state of Oregon.”

She froze, eyeing the second man. He was shorter than David and dark-skinned, with graying hair. Something about his body language said cop in her head.

“Who are you?” she asked sharply. “Both of you?”

The shorter man held out his identification. “My license is right there. My name’s Glen Raney and I retired from the Gresham Police Department ten years ago. David Dressler is my client.”

She glanced at his license. It meant nothing to her; she didn’t know what a PI’s license looked like and really didn’t care. She studied the way the PI held himself and believed he’d been in law enforcement. She looked at David, whose eyes pleaded with her not to run.

David Dressler. I don’t know you from Adam.

“Why are you following me?” she demanded.

David’s shoulders slumped. “I shouldn’t have approached you so often. I couldn’t help myself.”

“You’re not helping your situation. Start talking.”

David looked at the PI, who shrugged. “This is what you wanted, right?” Glen said to David. “Here’s your chance.” He bent over and picked up the coffee cup Ava had dropped and tossed the dripping mess in the garbage.

“We’re looking for Jayne,” David began.

“I knew it. She owes you money, doesn’t she?” Anger burned through her. “She doesn’t have any money and you’re barking up the wrong tree if you think you’re going to get anything from me. I barely know who she is.”

David’s face fell, and she was pleased. He could go to hell for unnerving her. “Anyone who loans her money needs their head examined,” she told the men. “Trust me. I’ve been there.”

David looked at her, and she saw the pain radiating from his gaze. “What did she do to you?” she whispered.

If he got his heart broken . . .

Jeez, Jayne. Disgust rolled through her. Nothing stopped her sister when she had a conquest in sight. Age. Marriage.

“You look like your mother,” David said softly.

Ava’s world tilted and her knees shook. “You knew my mother?”

“Very well.” He held her gaze.

Jayne’s eyes looked back at her. Her own eyes.

No.

She blinked several times and the resemblance faded. But it didn’t disappear.

“Who are you?” she whispered.

“I’m pretty sure I’m your father.”

“No.” She shook her head. “That’s not possible. No,” she repeated. “What do you want from me? Just because I work for the FBI doesn’t mean I can help you with something.” Her brain shot ahead in leaps and bounds as her tongue formed words she had no control over. “Our father left before we were born. He didn’t want anything to do with us or our mother.”

His mouth turned down, and Ava caught her breath at its resemblance to Jayne’s.

She looked at the PI, wanting him to tell her David Dressler was full of crap. Glen Raney nodded at her. “My client is willing to take whatever test you want to verify he’s your and your twin’s father. I’ve seen the letters your mother sent him before she left. I tracked down your birth certificates—you know she changed her name after she broke it off with my client, right?”

“No.” I don’t believe him. “We’re not who you’re looking for,” she said to Glen, unable to look at David again. “My mother was born McLane. If you think she changed her name, then you’re wasting your time talking to me.” Relief swept through her. He’s got the wrong people.