A Dad for Billie (20 page)

“Okay.”

She walked over to him and leaned against his back. After stuffing her ball back into her pocket, she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist.

So small, he thought, fighting the sudden tightness in his throat. So young and fragile. His daughter. His child.

“All set?”

“Uh-huh.”

He stepped back onto the ladder and quickly brought them to the ground. Jane met them at the bottom. She pulled Billie off Adam and hugged her close.

“I was so frightened,” she said, burying her cheek against her daughter’s hair. “Don’t scare me like that again.”

“I’m sorry, Mom. I’m in trouble, huh?”

Jane continued to hold her tight. “No. You’re not in trouble.”

Adam expected several reactions, but not for Billie to start crying. The tears fell fast and furious down her face, but she made almost no noise.

“Mommy,” she said. She squirmed to get closer. Her hat fell to the ground.

“Hush, Billie. You’re safe now. You’ll always be safe. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I love you, Mommy.”

“I love you, too, baby.”

The sobs continued, as if the child’s most precious possession had been torn from her. Adam stood helplessly beside the two of them and watched as Billie suffered a pain he couldn’t begin to understand. He thought about offering comfort, but to whom? And for what?

Charlene walked over and touched his arm. “We’d better head back.”

He shook off her hand. “I don’t want to.”

“Adam!”

He glanced at her.

“Let Jane handle this.”

“She’s my daughter, too.”

“In name only. Right now Billie needs her mother.”

Jane looked up and nodded. “Please, just a couple of hours. Come by around five and we’ll talk over dinner.”

It was Billie who made the decision for him. He reached over to pat her back, but she shrank out of reach and clung tighter to her mother. It hurt, he acknowledged, allowing Charlene to lead him back to the house. Telling himself Billie was a child and simply reacting to the situation didn’t help.

When he reached the curve in the path, he turned and stared at Jane and Billie. The woman who should have been his wife, holding the child that belonged to him. In a moment of passion, he and Jane had made that precious girl. He didn’t understand all the ramifications of being a parent, but he would die for that child. As Jane’s gaze met his, then slid away, he realized something else. The risk he took. He couldn’t stop Billie from finding a place in his heart. It was too late for that; the process had already begun. He had to find a way to keep her from disappearing from his life. He knew the rule; if you love something, it leaves you. He couldn’t let that happen now.

Chapter Eleven

S
he was as nervous as the day she’d arrived. Jane wiped her palms against her skirt and paced the small living room. It was silly, she told herself. Adam was the same man he’d been yesterday, before he’d known. He would be the same tomorrow. He might be angry and hurt and confused, but he was still Adam.

That’s what scared her. In the brief time they’d spent together, she’d come to see that the young man she’d run from was not the person he’d become. She’d run from phantoms. Vague fears of a young woman too inexperienced to understand what frightened her and too cowardly to speak about those fears. She freely admitted running had been wrong. But what about not marrying Adam? Had she made the right choice there?

“Mom, I’m hungry.” Billie stood in the doorway of the living room. The ever-present softball bulged at the pocket of her denim shorts.

“We’ll be having dinner in less than an hour. Adam is due here any minute.”

“Is he going to eat with us all the time now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe we can use his kitchen instead. You know, eat at the island?” Billie smiled hopefully. “I’ll be real careful not to spill anything.”

“I’ll be sure to let him know.”

“I’m still hungry.”

Jane sighed. “There are a couple of apple slices on the plate in the fridge. But that’s all.”

“Thanks.” Billie stifled a yawn.

“Early to bed for you, young lady.”

“Mo-om!”

She followed her daughter into the kitchen. “Don’t ‘Mo-om’ me. I have a feeling Charlene kept you up well past your regular bedtime.”

Billie grabbed a slice of apple and slammed the fridge door shut. “Maybe, you know, a couple of minutes.”

Jane bit back a smile and leaned against the counter. “And what did the two of you do?”

“Well, we, huh, you know, talked.”

“About?”

Billie hunched her shoulders. “Baseball.”

“Did you play cards?”

“Cards?” Billie took a bite of her apple. “Can’t talk with my mouth full,” she mumbled.

“How convenient.”

There was a knock at the screen door. “What’s convenient?” Adam asked as he let himself in and paused just inside the kitchen.

Jane straightened and told herself not to stare. It didn’t help. He’d showered recently. Dampness darkened his short brown hair, and he looked as if he’d just shaved. The smoothness of his jaw made her wonder what it would feel like against her hand. The crisp cotton short-sleeved shirt stretched across his broad shoulders and chest. The open V allowed a few hairs to peek out. She recalled touching that chest, so many years ago. A light dusting of hair, broad at the shoulders then narrowing toward his waist, had teased her fingers. Even now, her fingers curled into her palms at the memory of how he’d sucked in his breath when she’d accidently brushed her fingers across his flat nipples. It had
been a moment of triumph for her, she remembered. A brief time when she’d been able to ignore her fears and reduce this strong man to hungry passion.

His chinos hugged slim hips and outlined the lean muscles in his thighs. Her gaze dropped farther down to the casual loafers, then began to move back up. His carefully constructed wall of control didn’t seem to be working tonight, she thought in surprise. She could see his discomfort in the way he shoved his hands into his pockets, then removed them. She studied his face. The square jaw, the firm mouth that had claimed hers so recently, the eyes that he’d passed on to Billie.

Pain flickered in the brown depths. And confusion. And something that might have been longing. For the time lost? For the fact that he’d missed those years with Billie? Or for her? No, she thought. She couldn’t allow herself to think like that. It cost too much.

“I’m glad you could make it,” she said softly.

“Thanks for inviting me.” He gave her a quick smile, then looked at Billie. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay.” Billie finished the last of her apple and began to lick her fingers. She yawned suddenly.

“She’s a little tired,” Jane said. “I think Charlene kept her up last night. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Thanks. Whatever’s easiest.”

“Beer?”

He raised his eyebrows.

She shrugged. “We went to the market.”

“Yeah,” Billie said. “She bought this bread. The long kind.” She held out her hands to show him the length. “We’re going to make garlic toast. I know how.”

“Maybe I could help you.”

Billie tugged on the bill of her cap. Jane held her breath. It had been a gesture of friendship by Adam. She hadn’t forgotten the look on his face when he’d watched her with Billie that afternoon. The need in his eyes, the obvious disappointment at being shut out. Go on, she urged her daughter silently. He’s not so bad.

“Okay,” Billie said. “I have trouble stirring the butter sometimes. You can do that.”

“Great.” Adam tugged off her hat.

“Gimme!”

He held it out of reach. She jumped up and tried to grab the cap. When that didn’t work, she grinned. “Please.”

“Why should I?”

“’Cause it’s mine.”

He chuckled and pulled the hat over her head.

“Here.” Jane handed him a glass of beer.

Adam leaned against the counter and took a sip. His gaze flickered over her, and she was glad she’d taken the time to shower and change her clothes. The sleeveless sundress with its rows of tiny buttons up the bodice made her feel pretty. And right now she could use all the confidence she could get.

Billie yawned again. Adam frowned. “What time did you go to bed?”

“I don’t know.”

“Was it past your bedtime?”

Billie’s smiled faded. “I don’t have a watch.”

He glanced at Jane. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

“Charlene wouldn’t have done anything really horrible.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“Oh, dear. I guess she would. Billie, did you and Charlene play cards?” Billie pulled out her softball and studied the seams. Jane knew that look. “Just tell me.”

“A couple of games.”

“Poker?”

“No.” Billie shook her head. “We did a counting game. She gave me cards and I had to count them. Whoever got closest to twenty-one won. We played for cookies.”

She moaned. “I told her not to teach you card games.”

“It’s hopeless,” Adam said. “She’s always been that way. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. She taught me to play poker when I was around Billie’s age. It never bothered me much before.”

“It makes a difference when it’s your kid.”

Their eyes met. For a second she regretted her statement. But Adam didn’t lash out at her. There was a flash of understanding
between them. Something warm and shared that made her long for all the moments they’d missed as a family. Had he been right? Had she deprived Billie of two parents? And what about the things she’d deprived herself of? Sharing the responsibilities made the load seem lighter.

“I see that,” he said. He took another drink. “Early to bed for you tonight, Billie. And no more card games.”

Her good humor vanished. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“I certainly can.”

Jane moved next to him. “Adam, I don’t think—”

“We’ve established that point.”

Her temper flared. “This is neither the time nor the place to bring that up.”

“Don’t yell at Adam,” Billie interrupted, using her own brand of logic. Jane stared at her. Just seconds before
she’d
been the one saying he couldn’t tell her what to do.

“Don’t talk to your mother that way,” Adam said, setting his glass on the counter. “You may not like what she’s saying, but you will listen and respect her. Do you understand?”

Both women stared at him. Jane recovered first. “I think we’ve had our first fight as a family.”

Adam folded his arms over his chest. For a second she thought he was going to stay mad. Then he grinned. “Was it good for you?”

“Yeah, it was.”

Billie stared at both of them. “You guys are weird. I’m going outside to play ball.”

“Dinner’s in an hour. Don’t run away this time.”

Billie rolled her eyes. “I won’t. Geez, Mom. Give me a break.” With that, she ran out the back door.

Without her the kitchen seemed smaller. That didn’t make sense, Jane told herself, but the feeling persisted. Perhaps it was the way Adam studied her. She walked over to the refrigerator and began pulling vegetables out of the bin at the bottom. “I thought we’d have pasta. I hope that’s all right.”

“It’s fine.”

She picked up the broccoli and stared at it. “Thanks for telling her to listen to me. You didn’t have to take my side.”

“I did it instinctively. The parents against the kids, I guess.”

“A united front is best, especially now.”

“There’s so much I don’t know.”

She set the broccoli on the counter and looked at him. He shrugged. She saw the worry in the frown lines on his forehead.

“You just have to feel your way,” she said. “At first I didn’t know what to do, either. A lot of the time, I still don’t. I just try and be fair and consistent. I also try not to sweat the small stuff. There are enough big things to worry about.”

“Such as?”

When she least expected it, the pain caught her off guard. He stood there, so tall and handsome. In control. A perfect catch. If only he’d loved her. She shook her head. If she had a dollar for every
if only
in her life, she’d own the Barrington mansion and he’d be living next door.

“Oh, nothing I can think of offhand.”

Before she could turn away, he reached out his hand and cupped her face. The touch, gentle, concerned, broke through her resolve and her pride. She started to look down, but he moved his index finger along her cheek and jaw until it rested under her chin and she was forced to stare up at him.

“Don’t shut me out,” he said. “What do you worry about?”

If he’d stopped touching her, she might have been able to lie. But he continued to hold her face, occasionally stroking her cheek with his thumb. The warm caress, more comforting than anything else, wore her down.

“Not Billie,” she admitted. “Somehow she got the best of both of our families. I know in my heart she’ll be fine.”

“Then what?”

They stood alone in her kitchen. It wasn’t the least bit romantic, what with raw vegetables scattered around on the counter and the sound of their daughter playing in the backyard. Yet she felt in tune with Adam. Perhaps he
would
understand.

“It’s not my finest hour,” she said tentatively, waiting to gauge his reaction.

“Are you waiting for a promise that I won’t judge you?”

She nodded.

His brown eyes searched her face. He struggled with her request.
She saw the battle rage in his eyes. Then she saw victory. Her victory, and it tasted sweeter than she would have imagined.

“I give you my word.”

How ironic. She’d given hers once, and it’d had no value. Yet she would risk her life on the strength of Adam’s word.

“I’m afraid of losing Billie.”

“But you said you thought she’d be fine.”

“Not to anything bad. To you.”

He frowned. “I don’t understand.”

She started to step away, but he tightened his hold on her face just enough to let her know he wanted her to stay. She relaxed. He eased her forward, slipping his hand around her neck and under her braid, until she rested against his side. His arm came around to hold her close.

“I’ve always been first in her life. The only constant in a changing world. That’s all about to change. She likes you already, Adam. She can’t help but grow to love you.”