The Single Daddy Club Boxed Set

by Donna Fasano

  Although there hadn't been a hint of scorn or malice in the child's tone, Maggie still felt insulted. The way he ignored her, it was almost as though he thought she was a nonentity. She couldn't help but feel that Reece's son's behavior was rude.

  "We don't need a woman around here," Reece said. "Maggie is here because... well, because—" one shoulder lifted and then relaxed "—she needs us."

  Maggie bristled at his statement; however, she remained silent. She may not like what he had to say, but she did have to admit there was a semblance of truth in his tactless words.

  Finally, she attracted Reece's attention with a forced smile. "So," she said, "are you going to introduce me to your son?"

  "Oh. Sure." He looked down at the boy. "Maggie, this is Jeff. Jeff, this is Maggie Dunlap."

  "Hi, Jeff," she said, trying again.

  Maggie barely heard his mumbled reply.

  "Why don't you go unpack your bag, Jeff?" Reece handed the duffel bag to his son.

  Jeff took the bag and started toward the kitchen door. He hesitated, keeping his gaze directed at the floor. Then he darted past her, as though he thought she might have some communicable disease that he didn't want to catch. Again, Maggie felt a little put out, although she got the distinct feeling that the child hadn't purposefully meant to offend her, but his behavior certainly was odd.

  "You won't believe what happened."

  Maggie turned her attention to Reece. She was struck by how handsome he was standing there. Even with the ire glittering in his deep brown gaze, here was a man who made women sit up and take notice.

  Just the kind of man you should stay miles and miles away from, a tiny voice warned her.

  Silently admonishing herself, she tried to focus on the words he'd already begun to say.

  "...kicked him out," Reece said. "I just can't believe it"

  "Kicked him out? Of camp, you mean?" she asked. "Why? What did they say he did?"

  He shrugged. "It was nothing. He made some innocent little comment is all."

  Maggie's brows raised. "An innocent comment?"

  "Yeah." His chuckle held a strange, almost nervous quality. "He said something about the archery instructor's boobs getting in the way of her hitting the target."

  Although she tried hard to control the totally natural outrage that any woman would feel at hearing such a thing, Maggie felt it jolt through her nonetheless. She crossed her arms and leaned her shoulder against the doorjamb. "Reece," she said quietly, "that's nothing to laugh about."

  "Come on, now." He lifted one hand. "You don't think it's just a little bit funny?"

  She just shook her head.

  "It was just a stupid, innocent little comment. You know how boys can be when they're trying to impress other boys their age."

  "I can't think of a single situation where such a comment would be appropriate."

  He scowled. "Oh, come on. He's eight years old. He didn't even know what he was saying."

  "Did you talk to him about it?"

  "Well... no," he admitted. "He was feeling bad on the way home. I didn't want him to think this was his fault."

  Maggie couldn't help but grimace. "But it was his fault."

  "I told you," he said, his voice tight, "the poor kid didn't know what he was saying. He didn't understand."

  "How do you know that if you didn't talk to him about it?"

  Reece's exhalation was filled with exasperation, and he raked his fingers through his black hair.

  Silence hung in the air between them, thick and tense. She felt badly for Reece. He was Jeff's father; he certainly didn't want to admit that the child was in the wrong. However, from where Maggie stood, Jeff's comment had been unacceptable. Intolerable. And furthermore, the boy needed to be told just that by the one person who might be able to make an impression on him, the one person Jeff identified as the authoritarian.

  Her eyes were drawn to Reece as he slowly shook his head.

  "That woman said that Jeff had a bad attitude—no, she said a negative attitude—about women. She actually suggested that my son needs professional help." He made a disgusted sound. "The high and mighty Mrs. Walker said my Jeff doesn't trust women." Then his voice lowered as he grumbled to himself, "Why would he want to trust a woman who was just waiting to toss him out of camp?"

  Although she knew she'd probably regret it, Maggie simply couldn't keep silent. However, she'd have to tread lightly, she knew, because Reece wasn't going to want to hear what she was about to say.

  "Well," she began softly, "if Jeff does have a problem, it's pretty clear where he gets it from."

  His eyes narrowed on her. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

  She shrugged. "There are many clichés that fit—the apple doesn't fall far from the tree... a chip off the old block... like father, like son."

  Reece stood there staring at her as if she'd grown two heads.

  "Look," she rushed to say, "don't be angry. I didn't mean to insult you. I don't know if your son has a problem. I just met him."

  There was more she felt needed to be said, but she bit her tongue.

  "And?" he prodded.

  "Nothing." She shrugged noncommittally.

  "Go ahead. Spit it out. I'd love to hear what you have to say."

  "Well..." She looked away, uncertain as to how to phrase her thought. Lifting her gaze to his, she tried a second time. "It's just that..." Again, she faltered. Finally, she took a deep breath and blurted, "Your son was pretty rude just a few minutes ago."

  "To whom?" Reece asked. "You?"

  "Yes, to me," she said, unable to hide her irritation. "And I think the fact that you didn't seem to notice his impolite behavior is... very telling."

  "And just how was he impolite?" he asked, his temper rising. "When, during the sixty seconds you spent with my son, was he rude?"

  "Don't be angry, Reece." She kept her voice quiet and steady. She didn't want to fight.

  "Do I look angry?"

  "Yes, actually. You do."

  Reece tucked his hands under the opposite biceps and leaned against the kitchen counter. She could tell he was waiting for her to explain her comment about his ill-mannered child. And she wouldn't mind explaining, if only she didn't find the well-defined muscles of his arms so darned distracting.

  After what seemed like an eternity, she was able to drag her eyes back to his face. "It's just that Jeff didn't acknowledge my greeting when I first walked in. He didn't talk to me at all." She shook her head. "I don't know, but it was almost as if, because I have boobs, I didn't exist for him."

  She wondered if she'd gone too far.

  "That's ridiculous." Reece's irritation flared up like dry paper in fire. "What if... what if," he stammered, "what if he's afraid to talk to strangers? Huh? What about that? Every parent tells their kid not to talk to strangers."

  She sighed, wishing he would calm down. But she knew that was impossible. He was Jeff's father.

  "I'd buy that," she said softly, "if we were out on the street somewhere and you and I had never met. But you called my name when you came in. Twice." Absently, she reached up to tug at the short, curling lock of hair that lay behind her ear. "Jeff knew I was in the house. He had to assume I was, at the very least, an acquaintance of yours."

  Reece pushed himself away from the counter. And it was so obvious that a thousand arguments were jamming his brain.

  His mouth was a thin, angry line, and Maggie longed to reach out to him. She ached to smooth her fingers across his lips, to gently soothe away his defensiveness.

  Are you crazy? the tiny voice in her head shouted. Why in the world would you want to get involved in Reece Newton's family problems? Especially after the way he attacked you the night of the stakeout.

  Before she could ponder the silent questions echoing in her head, Reece took a step toward her.

  "Let's get one thing straight," he said, his dark eyes granite hard. "I love Jeff."

  Then suddenly, all his anger seemed to melt, and his shoulde
rs sagged a fraction. He stared at Maggie, his gaze a mixture of bewilderment and worry.

  "I love my son."

  He walked out of the kitchen, and for a reason impossible to fathom, Maggie was left feeling horrible for what she'd said.

  Why did she have to open her mouth and voice her opinion about Jeff? What did she care if the boy had an attitude where women were concerned? Why couldn't she have just let things be?

  I love my son. Reece's parting words echoed in her head.

  Of course he did, she silently reasoned. He was Jeff's dad. She could see the love Reece felt for his son in his eyes, in his face. She even heard it in the protective tone of his voice. And she realized suddenly that she found Reece's devotion to his son an extremely endearing quality. Hell, it was almost... sexy.

  "Are you crazy?" she whispered aloud. This man questioned your judgment two nights ago. He blatantly insulted you. He ridiculed your professionalism in front of that jerk Buster—

  He tried to apologize for that, a small voice reasoned, more than once. But you refused to listen. "I was angry."

  For two days? That sounds more like stubbornness than anger. Maggie tried to ignore the tiny voice in her head. You have to admit, the persistent thoughts piped up one last time, Reece is kind of sexy.

  "Oh, shut up," she muttered.

  Chapter 6

  "Are you certain this is what you want to do?"

  Reece steered his car onto the driveway of Maggie's property, shoved the gear stick into Park, and cut the engine. She didn't speak; she simply got out of the car and glanced around the yard. Pushing open the door, he exited the car and then looked over at her, still waiting for her response.

  "I have to move home, Reece," she said. "I can't take any chances of putting your son at risk. And that's just what I would be doing if I continued to stay at your house."

  She'd repeated the same words at least a dozen times, or at least it seemed so. The lazy summer sunshine beat down on him. Sunday should be a day spent sailing on the bay or picnicking by the water, a day for relaxation and forgetting one's worries. However, Reece felt his worries were just beginning.

  He wanted Jeff to be safe, but he certainly didn't want Maggie to be in danger. Unfortunately, the answers weren't simple. And since Maggie had insisted on his bringing her home, there really wasn't anything more to work out. The fact that she continued to refuse to talk with him, or even listen to him—about the night of the stakeout, about that heated kiss they'd shared or the fact that she was putting herself in danger by returning here—frustrated the hell out of him.

  "I just feel," he said, "that there's so much between us, so much that needs to be discussed."

  She was stonily silent as she moved to the rear of the car and waited for him to open the trunk.

  "I just don't like the idea of you being here," he said.

  Silence.

  "All alone," he pointedly added as he turned the key to pop open the trunk lid. They reached in for her bags at the same time, their hands colliding in a tangle. She pulled back, her face stiff and unemotional as she waited.

  "Damn it, Maggie! You don't even have a car. Yours will be in the shop for at least a week! What the hell do you plan to do...?"

  She stopped him cold by closing her eyes and lifting one hand. Once he had her bags out of the trunk, she looked at him.

  "I had to come home," she repeated quietly. "And I don't want to argue anymore."

  Maggie reached for the luggage, and Reece balked. "I'm coming in," he told her. "I want to look around and make sure everything's okay."

  "I'll be fine," she said.

  But he heard the tremor in her voice. He'd noticed how her agitation grew with each mile they drove closer to her house. She didn't want to be here. He didn't want her to be here. This was the damnedest situation.

  He frowned. "I said I'm coming in."

  She pressed her lips together, but didn't argue with him.

  They walked to the front door, Reece very aware of Maggie's growing watchfulness.

  Her keys clattered together, and she slid one into the dead bolt. She pushed open the door, stepping inside.

  Maggie's horrified gasp made Reece's heart thud in his chest.

  "What the hell?" The swear escaped him unwittingly.

  The living room was a wreck—chairs overturned, the couch cushions strewed about. The desk had been emptied of its contents, papers, receipts and envelopes tossed, hither and yon, on the floor. Maggie hadn't moved a muscle past her first step inside the house.

  Reece let the bags drop from his grasp. "Stay right here," he instructed. "I'll look around."

  "Damn it, Reece. I'm not some helpless—"

  "Maggie!" His voice was a grating whisper. "Don't argue with me."

  Adrenaline surged through him as he stalked, alert and ready, down the hallway. Instinct told him the house was empty; the rooms, the air, just felt that way.

  One by one, he checked each room, each closet, and finally, he returned to the living room.

  "Whoever did this is gone," he told Maggie. "Judging from the food dried on the counters in the kitchen, this mess wasn't made today."

  Reece stopped suddenly, noticing Maggie's distress. Although she wasn't crying, she looked as though she was barely holding herself together. Her fingers shook, and the longer he watched her, the more he became aware of her trembling.

  Keeping his tone as gentle as possible, he said, "It's okay. The house is empty. Whoever was here is gone."

  He moved toward her. Her eyes were glazed over. Reaching out, he placed his fingers on her shoulder.

  "Don't touch me!" She flinched and backed away. "I can take care of myself. I can protect myself. I can—"

  "Maggie, stop." He kept his voice soft but firm. He forced her stiff body against his chest. Fear emanated off her, cold, stark, and palpable. Her hands were clenched into tightly fisted balls. His heart nearly broke as she shuddered violently in the protective circle of his arms.

  Finally, she relaxed enough to press her face into his shoulder, but she didn't cry.

  "You're coming back home with me." He made the decision and the words were out of his mouth before he even realized it. "I won't let you stay here. Jeff will be fine, we'll all be safe as long as this... this bastard doesn't know where you are. If he can't find you, you'll be safe."

  She mumbled, "No. I can't."

  "No argument, Maggie," he said. "Let's go. We'll call the police—report this—from my house."

  "No." Her head snapped up. "No police, Reece."

  "I know you said they didn't believe you before," he said. "But, Maggie, they won't be able to ignore this—"

  For the first time since they entered the house, he saw her chin quiver, tears filling her eyes. "Reece—" her throat sounded raw and tight "—a policeman might have been responsible for this."

  * * *

  "I've been hired by Anthony Arnor's wife."

  Reece's brows rose. "The county sheriff?"

  Maggie nodded, then turned to stare out at the passing scenery. She hadn't meant to tell Reece about the investigation. She'd only just started delving into Arnor's background, and her research was in the very beginning stages. She knew nothing yet about the sheriff's habits, or his friends, or the places he frequented. However, after seeing the condition of her home, after once again experiencing the overwhelming fear, Maggie decided that if she was putting Reece and his son in danger by staying with them, then Reece deserved to know everything regarding what he might be up against.

  The whistle Reece expelled from his rounded lips told her he understood the magnitude of their problem.

  "Sheriff Arnor's wife believes he's messing around?"

  The probe had been gentle, but it was clear to Maggie that Reece wanted more information.

  "Betty Arnor contacted me several weeks ago," Maggie said. "The woman had no information to provide, only some vague suspicions. She's chosen to remain in the house with Arnor until I've conducted my investiga
tion and can give her some hard facts."

  Maggie dug into her purse for a pair of sunglasses and slipped them onto her face. "I told her that it would take me a while to get to the case. I was working on helping Sally out...." Her voice trailed, then she rushed on, hoping Reece wouldn't interrupt. "It's nearly impossible to work on more than one investigation at a time. I only got the chance to do just a little preliminary work on the sheriff."

  She looked over at Reece. "I'd spent so little time investigating Arnor that I felt it was impossible for him to have gotten wind of it. That's why I was so certain it was Buster who was terrorizing me. But Sheriff Arnor could lose lots of votes if word got out that he was getting some on the side."

  The huge implications swooped down on her. Tension and fear took control of her with such unexpected and cataclysmic intensity that she felt she would surely lose her mind. Her fingers trembled. Her eyes welled with tears. The muscles in her face tightened, and she knew she was going to cry.

  She hated feeling helpless. She wasn't a weak woman! She wasn't. It was just that these psychological games being played on her were too much for anyone to bear.

  Before she even realized what was happening, Reece had pulled the car into the parking lot of a small diner. He turned the engine off, and in one smooth motion, she found herself cradled against his rugged chest.

  "It's going to be okay, Maggie," he crooned.

  With her ear pressed against his shirtfront, she heard his words rumbling against his rib cage. It was a good sound. Solid. Powerful. Protective. Her inhalation was shaky, but she garnered enough strength from him that she was able to swallow her tears.

  "You're not in this alone," he told her. "I'm here. Okay? I'm right here."

  She sat there listening to the steady beating of his heart, and in just a few seconds, she was able to rein in her wayward emotions.

  "I hate feeling like... like..." Maggie searched for the correct descriptive words.

  "Like someone else has taken control of your life?" he supplied.

  She nodded. "Exactly," she whispered.

  The tactility in her fingertips heightened suddenly and the cotton fabric of his shirt became softer, the corded muscles beneath, harder, more defined. Some kind of electric energy began to crackle like static on an old fashioned radio dial.