Doctor Daddy Page 12

  Before a full minute had passed, the same two blue lines appeared in the test window and I sank down on the floor in defeat. It wasn’t that I didn’t want children. I’d always wanted a large family so that each child would have plenty of brothers and sisters to grow up with. But this wasn’t the plan. This wasn’t how I’d imagined starting that family; twenty-one years old, and currently employed as a nanny for the man who happened to be the father of my child—and who wanted absolutely nothing to do with long-term relationships.

  What a mess I’d made!

  A knock sounded at my bedroom door, and panic raced through my veins. There was no way it was Abby standing out in the hallway because I had learned quite quickly that Abby does not knock. And that left only one other possibility, and I didn’t relish the thought of facing him at the moment. But when he knocked on the door again, I knew he wasn’t going to be put off much longer.

  “Emma,” he called in a stern voice as I heard the door to my room open slowly.

  I sprang to my feet, knocking almost everything on the edge of the sink onto the floor. Damn it! I swooped down and gathered it all into my purse as quickly as I could, zipped it up and placed it on the towel shelf next to me.

  I took a deep breath, only realizing then that my face was wet with tears. I brushed them away angrily as quickly as I could and opened the bathroom door. But I came to a dead stop when I looked up and saw the expression on his face. It seemed we’d just taken a swift tumble from his typically cool and aloof daytime behavior to downright furious.

  His expression faltered for the briefest of seconds when he saw me—no doubt I hadn’t managed to wipe away all proof of the stupid tears—but it hardened again quickly.

  “When were you going to tell me?” he asked, and I couldn’t stop myself from glancing back at the purse on the bathroom shelf. But he couldn’t possibly know. I’d only known myself for a whole two minutes! So, what on earth was he talking about?

  “Tell you what, Ryan?”

  “Right. The whole point was to not tell me, to string me along and keep me distracted just long enough for my deal to fall through.”

  “Deal? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I felt at a severe disadvantage, standing there in a T-shirt that barely covered anything vital, and my mind already too overwrought this morning to think straight about whatever accusation he was flinging at me.

  “Your charade’s up, Emma. I’m sure you thought you were doing a great job playing me for a fool, but if you thought this little seduction act was going to work, you’re really not as bright as I thought you were. I’ve built my entire company from the ground up, and nothing—not even a sexy as hell little actress—is ever going to get in my way. That you would insinuate yourself in the way you have, letting Abby get close to you…it’s despicable.”

  “How dare you barge into my room to accuse me of somehow conspiring against you! Conspiring to do what, Ryan? To get the inside scoop on how Ryan Cade spends his days and release it to the tabloids?” I jeered, my ire growing exponentially every second.

  A flicker of doubt crossed his expression, but then it was gone. “I barged into your room? What the hell do you need a room for? You’ve got an entire house next door! And since you’re not welcome in this one, I’d suggest you go back there.” His voice had gotten louder and louder as he spoke so that he nearly yelled the last words.

  It’s funny; right there in the midst of an argument that made absolutely no sense to me…right there it hit me. I didn’t just like Ryan, and I wasn’t just attracted to him. I’d fallen in love with him. I had no idea what had made him so angry, but right then, I would have done anything in my power to take it away from him. And since I could find no explanation for his anger, there was only one thing I could think of that would do that.

  All the fight in me fled. This was it then.

  “I suppose I should leave,” I whispered, finding that it hurt more than I would have expected. To not see Abby again. Or Ryan. But since I was so obviously the source of his anger, I didn’t have a choice.

  As discreetly as possible, I slipped into the shorts at the end of the bed and then I pulled out the suitcase under my bed and started tossing things into it, not caring whether I left anything behind.

  “Tell your brother his little ploys are a waste of time,” he said as I closed the suitcase and zipped it up.

  “Michael?” I hadn’t spoken to my half-brother since my parents’ funeral. And in the ten years prior to that, I’d only seen him a handful of times, usually at family gatherings. With fifteen years between us, we weren’t close. There wasn’t any terrible backstory to it; he was heading off to college before I even started preschool—not the foundation of a close relationship.

  So, what on earth was Ryan talking about then? And I was just about to ask when Abby appeared in the doorway.

  Oh god, how was I supposed to do this?

  “Where ya going, Emma?” she asked innocently.

  “I just have to go for a while, sweetheart. But I won’t be far away, just next door. So you can come visit me when your dad says it’s ok.”

  “Oh. You’re going back to your house?” she said, a little uncertain.

  “Yes well…” Ryan cut in, “Emma was just helping you get settled in here. Now that you’re settled in, she can go back to her house. But you’ll still get to see her, don’t worry.”

  It looked like he had it all figured out. I hugged Abby tightly, fighting back unfamiliar tears, grabbed my purse from the shelf in the bathroom and hurried out. It was better this way, leaving before Abby got any more attached to me.

  Too bad I didn’t leave soon enough to avoid getting attached to the cotton candy princess…and her father.

  11

  Ryan

  I stood in Emma’s room, replaying the last several minutes over and over again in my mind. She’d seemed genuinely stunned when I’d mentioned her brother, so much that it made me wonder if I’d somehow misjudged the situation. But no, I’d judged it right. She hadn’t put up the least bit of fight, which meant she knew she’d been found out and there was no point in sticking around any longer.

  So that was it then.

  Abby tugged on my arm. “So, who’s gonna cook breakfast now, daddy?”

  “I will, kiddo,” I replied, trying to ignore the doubtful expression on her cherub face.

  “Just ‘member, no pancakes.”

  I nodded and turned to leave the room, trying to smile as brightly as I could for her.

  But she stayed where she was. “You know, maybe you should get Emma back here, ‘cause she can make pancakes. And she makes other stuff, too.”

  “We’ll find something for breakfast. Don’t worry.”

  And that was precisely what I did—a bowl of cereal and a glass of orange juice for breakfast. Sure, it wasn’t gourmet dining, but it was nutritious and there was no way I’d wind up sounding the smoke alarm while preparing it.

  “Why don’t we go to the fair outside the city today?” I asked as she pushed the cereal around in the milk in her bowl.

  She smiled excitedly and delved into her food. Two minutes later, she was dashing down the hall to get ready for the outing. It was only when she came out of her room a short while later that I realized how far she’d come already. She was fully dressed—shorts, T-shirt, a sunhat, and even matching socks—and she’d done it all by herself. The first morning I’d sent her to get dressed—not realizing that four-year-olds needed help with that sort of thing—she’d come back wearing an unzipped, orange dress underneath a purple T-shirt, a red, winter hat, and her pink, fluffy slippers. And I didn’t know until I’d taken her back to her room for a fashion repair that she hadn’t been wearing anything under her dress. The first climb up the stairs to the slide at the park and I would have been burning red in embarrassment.

  “You look very pretty, honey,” I told her genuinely now.

  “Thank you, daddy. Emma says to pick out my clothes and put them on the bed t
ogether. That way I can see if I have ev’rything and I can make sure I like the stuff.”

  “That’s very smart advice,” I said, trying not to acknowledge that Emma was probably responsible for a lot of the progress Abby had made in the past several weeks.

  “You know, maybe we should go get her and tell her to come with us,” she proposed, less slyly than she might have hoped.

  “Not today, kiddo. Remember, Emma had to go back to her house. It’s time for just you and me today,” I said, imbuing so much enthusiasm in my voice I was surprised it didn’t crack like a teenage boy’s.

  “OK, I guess,” she replied and took my hand when I offered it to her.

  I buckled her into her seat just five minutes later and we were driving out of the city in no time. Of course, if I’d known Abby was going to spend the entire day talking about Emma, I might have brought along a pair of earplugs.

  By the time I tucked her into bed the following night, I was seriously worried that Abby had fallen nearly as hard for Emma as I had. I wandered around the house aimlessly, but there was nowhere I could go to escape the memory of her. I’d had her naked and writhing in pleasure in just about every room in the house. Everywhere I turned, my mind conjured up memories. I saw her naked on the living room floor, spreading her legs invitingly. I pictured her bent over the table, her body pushing back against me to draw me to the hilt with every thrust. I remembered her straddling my hips out in the yard, the moonlight highlighting every sexy curve of her body.

  And then my mind got crueler; I saw her at the kitchen table, laughing at Abby’s antics; and underneath the slide at the park, comforting my daughter like Abby was her own. And I saw her from Abby’s bedroom door at night when they thought I hadn’t arrived home yet, Emma tucking the covers up beneath Abby’s chin while she sang my daughter a lullaby and stroked her little, blond head.

  Damn it! Could it really have all been a show? A niggle of doubt grew bigger, overshadowing the anger I’d felt and the fear that had sent me searching for a way out. Yes…fear. It was embarrassing to admit even to myself, but there it was. I’d never intended to feel what I felt for Emma. After watching both of my own parents spend most of their adult lives going from one relationship to the next, I’d never wanted it. Hell, I think my father had just settled into his fifth marriage, and my mother, just two years ago, her fourth after a bitter divorce from her third.

  And yet despite my certainty that I’d never followed in their footsteps, Emma had become…everything I wanted.

  But was it possible that she really had no idea about her brother, that her winding up in my home had been a complete coincidence? It was a long shot, but suddenly I couldn’t help but grasp onto it. Unfortunately, if she really hadn’t known about what was going on between my company and Michael’s, then I had a feeling I’d done irreparable damage. If I was being rational, I’d say that was for the best. Even if she hadn’t been in cohorts with her brother, the difficulty both Abby and I had had in parting from her was just proof it had been the right call to send her away regardless. But since I wasn’t the least bit concerned with rational at the moment, I couldn’t help but chastise myself for the fool I’d been.

  I walked into her bedroom two days later. I hadn’t set foot in the room since I’d sent her away, and everything was exactly how she’d left it. I had no idea what I was doing there. It wasn’t like I was delusional enough to think she’d miraculously appear there out of thin air. Nevertheless, I wandered about aimlessly. Everything was neat and tidy except for the dress crumpled on the chair by the window. It was a dress I’d torn off her, unable to wait a moment longer to have her naked. Trying to ignore the rush of arousal, I stepped onto the cool marble of the bathroom floor. But when I glanced around, I couldn’t help but remember that first night I’d stood outside her door, imagining her in here.

  I spied something on the floor by the sink. It caught my attention because it was the only thing out of place in the whole room—she’d really been a tidy houseguest, I thought, smiling to myself. Bending down, I reached out for whatever it was and then I froze.

  I knew what it was. God damn it, I knew exactly what it was, and she hadn’t said a fucking word.

  I stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind me before I remembered that Abby was fast asleep down the hall.

  Abby…I remembered telling Emma how hard it had been to learn I’d had a daughter for four years and never knew about her. She’d looked at me with what I’d thought was genuine sympathy in her beautiful eyes. But how genuine could it possibly have been?

  I wasn’t going to wait to find out.

  I strode down the hall, down the stairs, and out the front door. Fortunately, I was able to get myself under control enough to arm the security system and grab the portable unit from the foyer. While I would never make a habit of leaving Abby in the house alone, she was fast asleep and the whole house was under surveillance. If she woke up, the intercom would connect her right to me, and was only a few yards away.

  The responsible father satisfied, I stormed across the yard and pounded on her front door. But my breath caught in my throat when she opened the door. I hadn’t seen her in days, and despite the anger coursing through my veins, I couldn’t help it. My gaze roamed over her scantily clad body and the desire that shot through my body was almost enough to overwhelm everything else I was feeling. Almost.

  Fortunately, I didn’t have to say a word—which was a good thing since the blood supply to my brain was migrating elsewhere. I shoved the test I’d found into her hands, expecting her to gasp in surprise.

  But she didn’t gasp, and she didn’t look the least bit surprised. She looked…sad. Was she sad that she was pregnant? Sad that I had found out? Come to think of it, she wore the same expression now as when she’d opened the door. Still, sad or not, how could she have kept this from me after she’d seen firsthand how difficult it had been on Abby and I?

  “How could you not tell me?” I asked, gritting my jaw against the wave of emotions that let loose—anger, sadness, betrayal…and underneath it all grief because I had fallen hopelessly in love with this woman and it was obvious by her omission that she wanted nothing to do with me.

  “You threw me out of your house for no reason, at least none that I can fathom, and you come demanding to know how I could keep something from you?”

  “Damn it, Emma, maybe I was wrong, but you know what I’ve been through with Abby…”

  “I was going to tell you,” she whispered, cutting me off.

  Was I supposed to believe her? Part of me wanted to—desperately. Still, I cocked an eyebrow in disbelief.

  She walked away then, and I thought she was putting an end to the conversation, but she returned a moment later.

  “I was going to tell you as soon as these were finished,” she laid a thin stack of papers in my hands, but I stared at them half-blindly until the title on the first page caught my attention. They were legal documents, and with a quick glance, I realized they were legal documents detailing future custody agreements.

  “I couldn’t keep it from you, but after what happened I figured you didn’t want…you’d prefer not…I came to the conclusion you didn’t want me in your life. But you were right about Michelle. You had a right to know about Abby. But I also wanted you to know you didn’t have to do this; you weren’t obligated in any way.”

  And she was telling the truth; the documents essentially set forth that I could choose to be as much or as little a part in our child’s life, and that no financial obligations would be placed on me for the care of the child.

  She really had intended to tell me about the baby, and more than that, she’d gone to great lengths to make sure this baby wouldn’t be a stranger to me like Abby had been. And after the way I’d acted, how difficult had it been on her to face the prospect of sharing custody, being forced to interact with me on a regular basis?

  And that’s when it hit me—I was an ass. How else could one describe a man who’d go
tten angry not once, not twice, but three times, and each time it had been uncalled for? I let out a heavy sigh, preparing to admit the truth. “I’ve been a total ass.”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re not going to let me off the hook easy, are you?”

  “No.”

  For a woman who could converse easily with just about anyone, she sure did seem to be keeping the conversation to a minimum. Maybe I really had blown it. And the worst part was I couldn’t blame her. I’d made mistake after mistake, generally resulting in her being unfairly accused of shit she didn’t do. What kind of woman would want to put up with that on a regular basis?

  “I’m not good at this, Emma, not even a little. I’ve been terrified of winding up just like my folks—divorced so many times I think their lawyers keep an open spot in their calendars just for the next one. And honestly, no other woman has ever done a thing to change my mind. But you did…and it scared me. I was more than willing to jump to find the negative because I was terrified of what would happen if I couldn’t find it.”

  She smiled. “I’m terrified, too,” she confessed, and I felt whatever it was that had been gripping my heart tight loosen its grasp just a little. “What do you say we try being terrified together?” she asked.

  She was actually going to let me off the hook just like that? Damn, she was an amazing woman. And I wasn’t going to forget that ever again. “I want you to come home with me.”

  “Home? You mean back to being your nanny?”

  “No, Emma. I want to be a part of your life, and I want to be a part of this baby’s life,” I told her, touching her stomach gently. There was no difference; her stomach was still just as flat as it had been the first time I’d stripped her naked, and yet our child grew there now.

  “Oh.”