Single Daddy To Go: A Holiday Single Dad Romance

by Adams, S. C.

“James Bond is based on books? I had no idea,” I say, absolutely amazed.

  He shakes his head. “Yeah, and they’re good books too. I’ve been a huge fan since I was a boy. You should read one and see.”

  I nod enthusiastically. I love reading. It’s one of my favorite pastimes. I’m kind of shy, but with a book I can be transported to so many other worlds and live so many other lives. I’ve always liked books better than movies, because I can put myself into the story and use my imagination. “I’ll have to check one out,” I say, with genuine excitement. “They sound good.”

  He shrugs. “I’ll loan them to you. I have the whole set.”

  The bartender returns with our drinks. I sip mine and discover that it isn’t exactly what I would term sweet. Instead, it’s a strong tequila drink with a salt rim and a kick from the grapefruit. Maybe that’s what sweet tastes like to a man whose drink of choice consists of nothing but different kinds of alcohol. It is good though, and it feels warm as it goes down my throat, loosening me up. I start to relax a bit more, feeling like perhaps I do belong here after all.

  “So, Ally Summers,” Rob rumbles, taking a sip of his James Bond inspired cocktail. “Let’s talk about you.”

  He looks at me with those penetrating blue eyes. I gasp and then look down, staring at the salt on the rim of my glass. “I don’t know that there’s much to talk about,” is my shy murmur.

  “Nonsense,” he says. “Where are you from originally?”

  I don’t know why my date cares about this stuff, but he seems genuinely interested and the attention feels good. I take a deep breath.

  “I’m a native New Yorker, actually, but not from the city. I’m from a little town north of Manhattan called Westin. My mom still lives there but I live in Brooklyn with my roommate Haley who was my best friend in college.” I feel like I’m running my mouth, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

  “What a coincidence. I’m from New York myself,” he says.

  “From Manhattan?” I guess.

  “Ding ding ding, we have a winner,” he teases me. “I guess you can read it all over me. I did the prep school thing, went to college and business school, blah blah blah, before I came back here to make a life for myself. My father is Preston Lockhart. Maybe you’ve heard of him?”

  Oh shit. I’m just not that well informed about the business world. I feel a little silly about it, but I can’t lie. “No, I’m sorry. I haven’t.”

  He regards me quizzically, then smiles. “Fair enough. We’re not here to talk about my father anyway, are we?”

  “I don’t think so,” I try, feeling out of place once again.

  “No worries, I like that you’re a little different. Anyways, college was a blast. I didn’t study much, but I worked out a ton. I was on the crew team,” he says. “We never won anything while I was rowing, but I made a lot of friends.”

  I nod enthusiastically, even though I’m totally unathletic. “Do you still row?” I ask him.

  He winces a little bit. “Only in the gym, unfortunately. I don’t have time to keep up with it. Do you like the water?”

  I nod. I don’t have too much experience with boats, but I’ve always liked swimming, even if I’m not exactly what you’d call good.

  “Yes but it’s a challenge to find a pool in Manhattan,” I laugh. Rob nods knowingly.

  “I keep a boat at one of my summer homes. Maybe I’ll take you out there some time. It’s a speed boat, though. Machine powered not man powered.”

  I laugh, taking another sip of my drink. Boats? Water? I’m so out of my element. But the billionaire doesn’t notice.

  “By the way, how’d you get into the day care game?” he asks me, cocking his head quizzically. I take a deep breath.

  “Well, I always knew I wanted to do something in the education field,” I say. “I went to school in Chicago where I studied elementary education. I thought about being a kindergarten teacher, but my mom knows the owner of Ladybug Tots and he was happy to give me a job. I really love kids, so it was an easy sell. Some people say that two and three year olds are ‘terrible’ but if you ask me, they’re some of the best creatures in the world. I just love watching them learn and grow.”

  “Do you think you’ll stay there long term?” he asks. “It doesn’t seem like an easy gig to handle thirty kids at once.”

  I nod and laugh a little.

  “For the time being, at least. I really like the job. Ladybug is a great place, and the kids that come are really good kids. I grew up a little sheltered, I have to confess. I don’t think I’d do well in a rough environment or dealing with tough cases. Not that I wouldn’t do my best!”

  He touches my arm briefly, not exactly in a sexual way but the closeness is enough to send a bolt of electricity through me. “I think you’re doing a great job. Katie talks about you sometimes. She loves you.”

  My heart lifts, taking the focus off the spreading warmth in my lower parts.

  “Oh, I’m so glad to hear that! Katie is a really special girl.”

  “I think so too,” he says, his voice filling with pride. “She’s certainly very special to me.”

  I laugh.

  “I love being a day care teacher, but actually, I’m leading you astray. I do have other plans. I’m saving up to go back to school,” I confess. Despite Rob’s insanely good looks, he’s actually really easy to talk to, almost like he’s a normal guy. The cocktail doesn’t hurt either. “I want to get a Master’s in Education,” I say. “The way the world is going, kids have to start and earlier and earlier to learn the skills they need to compete. I want to focus on really early childhood education, kids Katie’s age. Getting the right foundation is very important, and I know I have the patience to deal with little kids, which not everybody does.”

  He nods.

  “I’ve watched you with them. You are really talented. I loved how you explained to Katie that the little boy was only trying to show her that he liked her when he pulled her hair. You didn’t excuse the behavior, but you explained what was happening while staying fair and neutral.”

  The thought goes through my mind that I would really like it if Rob pulled my hair right now. I feel silly for thinking this, and my cheeks start to color. He looks at me rather intensely, perhaps imagining the same thing.

  “Would you like another drink?” he asks smoothly.

  “Sure,” I murmur, looking down at my lap. Suddenly, I feel really hot. Having finished the first drink, I’m a lot more present, and no longer worried about not belonging at the bar. “I want to try something different this time.”

  “Anything the lady wants,” he chuckles deeply.

  I scan the menu. “How about a Sidecar?” I venture.

  He calls the bartender over and orders another round.

  “I love that you’re interested in children,” he says, once he’s ordered the drinks. “I like women who are interested in family and kids. Do you have any children of your own?”

  My uterus hears this and contracts pleasurably inside of me. Oh my gosh, really? I often think about having kids, but I’d need to find a father for them first.

  “No, I’ve never been married,” I tell him, blushing. “I don’t have any kids.”

  “I’m sure you’d make an amazing mom,” he says, which makes me blush harder. I thought I’d overcome my shyness, but clearly I was wrong.

  I’m grateful when the next round of drinks shows up.

  “I... um... well, I can’t do that on my own, can I? I had a steady boyfriend in college, but that seems like ages ago. We broke up when we graduated because he was joining the Peace Corps in Poland.”

  He raises an eyebrow again.

  “Peace Corps, huh? Very interesting. But what about you? You haven’t dated much since coming to the city?”

  I can feel my cheeks getting even hotter. I take a big sip of my drink. This one is legitimately sweet, with a rim of sugar instead of salt.

  “No, I haven’t. Not that many men are interested in me.” />
  The confession is humiliating, and suddenly I feel about two inches tall. Unable to meet his eyes, I look at my lap, praying to disappear into the floor.

  But Rob’s gaze narrows as he looks at me thoughtfully.

  “Is that so?” he asks in a low voice. “That’s hard to believe. You’re so beautiful.”

  What? It’s hard for me to believe that he thinks so.

  “Stop it,” I say, barely able to look him in the eye.

  “Why? It’s true.” The way he gazes at me, I have to trust his words, but it seems so alien. Other men don’t think that I’m beautiful. Other men don’t even notice me.

  I let myself bask in his approval for a moment, but then images of Rob with all those other women crowd into the back of my mind. I think about bringing it up, but I don’t want to ruin everything. There’s no sense in letting him know that I stalked him before coming on this date. Instead, I tell myself to just enjoy what’s right here in front of me.

  “Thanks,” I say simply, still not quite convinced but making the shape of it.

  He looks me up and down.

  “Have you looked at yourself in the mirror recently?” he asks.

  My first thought is to wonder whether my hair is out of place. My hand moves up reflexively to tame my curls.

  “What it is?”

  “Just you,” he grins. “Your eyes, your smile. Everything about you is gorgeous.”

  He reaches for my face, stroking my curls. I touch his hand. I’m melting, far too turned on to say or do anything except lean into his touch. My head feels like it’s swimming. When he pulls his hand away, I realize that it’s not just the overwhelming power of his eroticism, but that I’m also feeling pretty tipsy.

  Oh shit. I don’t really want another round, but Rob orders one. We keep talking. I do my best to follow the conversation, but all I’m thinking about is how much I want him to touch me again. I feel elated, and happy just to be in his presence.

  After the third round, he suggests taking a walk for some fresh air. I agree, enthusiastically, stepping down off the bar stool. My head is spinning, and it’s an effort just to make my legs work properly. I don’t usually wear heels either. I feel like I’m one of the toddlers, unsure of my own feet while wobbling here and there.

  Rob opens the door for me like a proper gentleman, and then offers his arm for me to hold. I take it, feeling the hard muscle beneath the soft fabric of his suit jacket.

  I don’t know if it’s the shock of the contact or just the alcohol, but either way, I trip over my heels and almost fall down on the sidewalk. If I wasn’t holding onto the billionaire, I’d probably face plant right here in front of the bar, but fortunately, he’s there to hold me up.

  My heart races. Wow. That was almost a total disaster! I spin out the possibilities, imagining Rob having to take me to the hospital with a broken nose, bleeding all over his fancy clothes. I’m so relieved that I was holding his arm.

  “Um, those drinks are strong,” I mumble, recovering myself. It occurs to me that I haven’t eaten dinner. I’m not a heavy drinker in any case and imbibing on an empty stomach is a recipe for overdoing it. Plus, I put away those cocktails pretty fast on account of my nerves.

  “Well, they should be, at thirty bucks a pop.”

  I feel embarrassed, spending his money on trendy cocktails only to get stumbling drunk. I hope he doesn’t hate me for it. “I’m sorry.”

  He grins knowingly.

  “For what? I invited you here. I bought you those drinks. Don’t get weird about it. Aren’t boys supposed to be the weird ones?”

  I smile despite myself. “I think everybody’s weird sometimes. Life’s just... strange, you know? Even when you think you get it, it seems like it’s going to go one kind of way, but then it goes another kind of way altogether.”

  He nods, digesting the thought. I watch his brow knit. “Yeah, that’s what makes life so wonderful. The unexpected. Life’s an adventure.”

  I smile wanly. “I don’t know if what I’m saying even makes sense. I’m kind of, uh, drunk right now,” I stammer. “I’m having a really good time though.”

  But the truth is that I’ve sobered up now that the cold night air is blowing on my face. It was cramped and loud in the bar, but being out on the streets of New York has helped me regain my equilibrium. Plus, to be frank, it’s also my extra padding. I’m no lightweight like those tiny girls. Instead, the alcohol metabolizes quickly and now, I’m stone-cold sober.

  He smiles. “You’re making plenty of sense. Maybe you’d like to go back to my place for some coffee?”

  Squinting my eyes a little, I eye the billionaire. I’m not feeling up to a long walk. “Where do you live?”

  The gleam in his blue eyes deepens. “Across the street, actually,” he says, and then points at a tall building across from the bar. Concrete and steel, with a green and gray awning out front, it’s a building as imposing as the man standing next to me.

  I’m neither too drunk nor too naive to know what going to a man’s apartment means, whatever excuses either of us may make for it. If he was any other man, I’d say no, and call a cab. Even with my college boyfriend, Daniel, I waited four dates before I gave it up. But Rob Lockhart isn’t just any other man, and I can’t resist. In fact, I don’t want to.

  “Yes,” I breathe. “Let’s go.”

  With that, we make our way across the street and into the lap of indescribable luxury.

  7

  Ally

  I’m shy as we step into the elevator. It’s not just being in such close quarters with this man. It’s the fact that I’m way out of my element. Rob Lockhart is a billionaire, and his building shows it in every way. When we stepped into the foyer of this imposing fortress, there were three doormen waiting, all dressed in natty red uniforms with jaunty caps.

  “Welcome home, Sir,” said the one at the door, bowing a little. “I trust you had a good night?”

  Rob nods while taking my elbow.

  “It was fantastic,” he growls. “Good night everyone.”

  And with that, we began walking to the left, our shoes tapping against the shiny marble floor. I start.

  “Wait, isn’t it that way?” I ask in a whisper, nodding to the right. “The elevator banks are over there.”

  A gleam enters his blue eyes.

  “Yes, if you’re everyone else. But if you’re me, and you live in the penthouse, then you have your own private elevator. Come on, sweetheart. This way.”

  My mouth almost falls open in shock, but I catch myself in time. His own private elevator? What kind of world does Mr. Lockhart live in? Clearly one of immense privilege, where nothing is too good or out of reach.

  Like a shy child, I follow him into the gilded gold box. I catch a glimpse of myself with Rob in a mirror mounted on the elevator wall, and suddenly, my heart folds in on itself. I’m momentarily reminded of why we’re such an unlikely pair. The man I’m with is tall, gorgeous and dominating, dressed in a perfectly-cut black suit with an expensive watch on his wrist. Me, I’m in an outfit I got from Ann Taylor on sale for fifty bucks when I visited the outlet mall in New Jersey last year.

  But I make myself take a deep breath and straighten my shoulders. The billionaire invited me here, and I chose to come of my own accord. He wants me, and I want him too. Is that wrong? This is the modern age where women come and go as they like, so I shouldn’t be ashamed of what I look like, or what I have to offer. Carpe diem, the voice in my head whispers. You only live once.

  How ironic. Wasn’t there a James Bond movie called You Only Live Twice? At this point, I can’t think. Rob is looking at me with such heated intent that a small flame ignites in my pussy and my knees go weak. All this, and he hasn’t even touched me yet.

  Ding! The elevator chimes and the doors slide open noiselessly. It’s so different from my walk-up, where you have to heave yourself up five floors before arriving at my teeny apartment which is cramped and untidy. Instead, the elevator opens up directly i
nto a foyer of sorts, except that there’s a canary yellow Lamborghini parked by the door.

  “What is this?” I asked, staring at the car. “Why is there a sports vehicle here?”

  The billionaire throws his head back and laughs.

  “Well evidently the developers got it in their minds that parking lots were passe,” he drawls with amusement. So they built a special car elevator, and my Lambo sleeps at night in the penthouse with me.

  It’s true. Staring closely at the white wall, I can see tiny seams that run about ten feet up and fifteen feet across.

  “So there’s a hidden elevator here, that drops your car off on this floor?” I ask, gesturing to the slide indentation in the wall.

  Rob nods.

  “That’s right. You know us billionaires. We don’t like to be apart from our toys, and that includes our cars.”

  I’m stunned. I’ve heard of crazy things before, like Japanese robot parking attendants that can fit fifty cars into a small, boxy lot with elevated riders. But having your car parked in your penthouse, ready for you at any time? It’s a luxury that blows me away.

  But Rob is totally at ease.

  “Come on, pretty girl,” he teases me, opening a gilded front door. “Come see what other toys there are.”

  I step hesitantly into a blinding white apartment with black leather furniture. A giant, glittery chandelier hangs from the extra-height ceiling, and what looks like a sculpture of a tree adorns one corner. Artwork is placed in each wall creche, carefully highlighted to bring out the exquisite detail and craftsmanship.

  “Wow,” is all I can manage, looking around with a stunned expression. “It’s like you live in a museum.”

  “Oh that?” he asks with a casual glance, indicating the tree with a nod. “That’s just something I picked up at Art Basel last year. You know I’m pretty into the art scene and enjoy collecting. It speaks to something in me,” he says simply.

  I’m surprised, shooting him a glance.

  “Really? You’re into art? I thought you were more of a business and finance type.”

  He grins.