Wonder With Me (With Me in Seattle 12.5)

I did, however, date and have sex with her.

“I did.”

“Mr. Taylor, Ms. Downey passed away a few days ago. She’d been sick.” She glances down at Piper as the little girl scowls and squeezes her bunny tighter. “Well, all of the information is in this folder.”

She closes the file and passes it to me.

My stomach is filled with lead. I know the next words about to come out of her mouth before she says them.

“Piper is your daughter, Mr. Taylor. Of course, we’ll schedule a DNA test—”

“That’s not necessary,” I say, interrupting her. My eyes are on Piper as she hugs her bunny. “She looks just like me.”

Piper looks up at me, her big, round, brown eyes a bit scared and sad.

“Actually, it’s the law,” the woman replies. “We have to make sure we’ve placed the child with a direct relative, of course. We’ll be in touch, and will check in periodically until the results of the test come in.”

“Fine. What about Vanessa’s family?” I ask Ms. Hale without looking away from my daughter.

My daughter.

“Vanessa didn’t have any immediate family,” she explains. “If there are extended family members, we haven’t found them.”

My gaze whips to Ms. Hale’s. What kind of a jerk am I that I didn’t know that Vanessa didn’t have family? “Who attended the funeral?”

“There hasn’t been one yet,” she says. “Of course, she had friends, but there hasn’t been time—”

“I’ll see to it.”

She closes her lips and sits quietly, watching as I smile at Piper.

“Piper, I’m very sorry for your loss.” I circle my desk and squat beside her, careful not to touch her. I don’t know anything about children. I’m way out of my element here, but this isn’t about me.

Christ, the poor child probably doesn’t understand what’s happening around her.

“Thank you,” she says in a tiny voice. “Do you know where my mommy is?”

Well, hell.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but your mommy is in heaven.”

Piper frowns and looks down at her bunny. “But where will I live?”

“With me,” I reply immediately. Am I ready for this? Hell, no. But I run a multi-million dollar company. We’ll figure this out. “If it’s okay with you, you’ll come live with me at my house. I think you’ll like it there very much.”

She seems to think it over, and then nods her dark little head. “Okay.”Chapter One~Noel~“Why do you sound like you’re having sex?”

I frown at my assistant’s question as I reach for the door of my favorite coffee place, my phone pressed to my ear. “Because I’m late, so I’m running, and I haven’t had a chance to go to the gym lately. Stop judging me.”

I sit in a chair to finish my call, rather than try to multi-task. Besides, I like the barista, and I enjoy talking with her, so I’ll wait until I’m off the phone to place my order.

“No judging,” Alison insists. “I don’t go to the gym either. Okay, so we have a request for a consult that came in this morning.”

“I don’t have time,” I say immediately. “Ask someone else.”

“They requested you, specifically. Apparently, you came recommended.”

“It’ll have to happen after the first of the year,” I reply, taking a deep breath. The smell of coffee is divine. And I haven’t had my first of a dozen cups yet today. “I’m booked, and it’s almost Christmas, Ali.”

“I know, but that’s the point. He wants his house decorated for Christmas. And he’s willing to pay. A lot.”

She rattles off a number, and I feel my eyes go wide. “Why so much?”

“Who cares?” she asks, laughing.

“Okay, listen.” I mentally take stock of my afternoon. I guess I won’t be getting that massage I’ve been longing for, after all. “I have two hours at four this afternoon. That’s the only time I can do it if he wants it done now.”

“Awesome,” Ali says happily. “Now, don’t forget…”

She reminds me of my appointments for the day, and when she finishes, I say, “Are you done, Mom? Because I’m already late, and if I don’t get my coffee, I might go all murder-death-kill on someone.”

“Happy holidays to you, too,” Ali says, laughing before she hangs up. I mentally juggle the schedule and hurry up to the counter.

“Hey, Noel.” I’m greeted with a wide smile.

“Hey, Shannon,” I say, smiling in return. “I’ll have—”

“Your usual,” she says, passing it over. “I saw you come in, and you look like you’re in a hurry.”

“You’re amazing, and I adore you,” I gush as I accept the cup of steamy goodness and pass her my card. Cherry Street Coffee House is, ironically, not on Cherry Street, but rather on First Avenue West, just around the block from my condo. And it’s my favorite spot for coffee, and sometimes, for something sweet.

“I know,” Shannon says, winking. “Here’s a scone, as well. On me.”

“You don’t have to do that.”