The Single Daddy Club Boxed Set

by Donna Fasano

  Maggie was reluctant to lift her head. Reluctant to lift her gaze to his. Even though she knew she'd have to soon. They couldn't sit here all day. She'd felt this intense atmosphere so many times before. It seemed to conjure itself, like some thick, unbreathable fog, every time they were alone together.

  Memories of the hot, sultry kiss they had shared seeped into every crevice of her mind like warm brandy. Enticing. Intoxicating.

  At last, she gathered her courage and lifted her chin. His mahogany eyes glittered with knowing. He felt the sensuousness that hung in the air between them too. She read it in his gaze.

  "Let's go inside," he said, indicating the quaint diner. "We can have something cold to drink. We can relax. That's what you need right now... to relax."

  She couldn't deny her gratitude and relief that he hadn't commented on the energy that arced and snapped between them in the car. "But what about Jeff?" she asked. "He's waiting on you."

  "He's gone sailing with Derrick and Timmy. He's having a ball." Reece gave her a smile. "You worry too much. I think that's your biggest problem right now."

  When he tilted his head to one side, it was obvious to Maggie that an idea had come to him.

  "You know," he said, "you ought to take some time off. A few days, a week. Sheriff Arnor can wait. If he's the ass who's been—"

  He stopped abruptly, and she could see him fighting a sudden flare of anger.

  After a moment, he began again. "If he's the one, then it just might be a good thing for you to lay low for a while. Let him think you've left town. If he's not the one, it won't hurt you to put off investigating the man's extramarital affair for a week or so. You need some space, Maggie," he told her. "You need some time away from this."

  The idea seemed as sweet as vanilla ice cream melting on the tip of her tongue.

  "That sounds wonderful," she said, and she heard the weariness in her own voice. Reece was right: she did need to put some space between herself and this problem.

  Bright sunlight lit the interior of the diner, but the air was gloriously cool. Reece led the way to a booth in the back, and he signaled to a waitress as Maggie slid across the padded vinyl bench seat. He sat down across from her.

  They both ordered lemonade, and the young woman went off to get their drinks.

  Reece watched Maggie closely. The atmosphere in the car had become quite claustrophobic for him. He'd held her in his arms, his only intention to soothe away the dread and panic that had bubbled to the surface. But he'd wanted badly to trace her cheekbone with his fingertip, to smooth the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip.

  However, it hadn't been the time. There was so much that needed to be discussed between them. Hell, he still owed the woman an apology. And the fact there was so much they needed to talk about somehow heightened the tension. But there would be time for apologies. Plenty of time to discuss the kiss they had shared a couple of nights ago. There would be plenty of time now that she was returning home with him.

  What he wanted to focus on now was putting out of her mind any bad thoughts, because he really did believe she needed to distance herself from her problems.

  "You know, Maggie," he said, "I feel like I've spent so much time with you, yet I don't know anything at all about you."

  The waitress stopped by the table only long enough to place the tall glasses of icy lemonade on the table along with a couple of napkins. Reece nodded his thanks then turned his attention back to Maggie.

  "Tell me something about yourself," he urged. Then he asked the burning question, "How did you come to be a PI?"

  He watched her gaze dip, and for a moment, he didn't think she would answer him. But then her green eyes lifted to his.

  "I attended the academy—the police academy—in Washington, D.C., right after high school." She seemed to relax as she talked. "I worked on the street." She grinned. "On 'the beat,' it was called. I loved the work. I had a knack for going in and calming tense domestic-dispute situations."

  She leaned her elbow on the corner of the table, and Reece took advantage of her momentary hesitation and let his eyes travel down the milky curve of her neck, her rounded shoulder.

  "My superiors had me trained in counseling," she went on. "And soon, I found myself working full-time on women's affairs. Rapes, domestic abuse, and disputes. It was a tough job."

  And frustrating, her expression seemed to add. Reece's heart went out to her.

  "I mean, so many times when I worked in law enforcement, I felt like I was straddling a fence. You know, representing both the abused and the abuser." She grimaced. "Women often are pushed over the limit and end up breaking the law themselves. Or they try to take the law into their own hands. And men who are accused of assault and battery are innocent until proven guilty."

  Maggie took a long drink from her glass. "I felt the need to focus my attention. On the abused women, I mean. I thought that, maybe, if I could help them, get to them before they were pushed too far..." She sighed. "Anyway, I quit my job as a cop. And started doing PI work." Her shoulder lifted in a shrug. "That's it."

  But her eyes darted away from him when she said those two tiny words, and Reece knew—or sensed—there was more to her story than what she was telling. More motivation behind her change in career. His curiosity refused to be quiet.

  "You ever been married?"

  "No."

  Her answer was curt, almost cold, and it clearly told him that, whatever it was she was hiding, she had no intention of revealing it. Before he could delve further, she lifted her eyes to his.

  "You weren't expecting Jeff home from camp so soon."

  Her blatant attempt to change the subject might have been clumsy as hell, but it caught him off guard. "You're right," he said. "I wasn't."

  "Well..." She ran her finger through the condensation that had collected on the outside of her glass. "Were you planning anything special for the two of you? I don't want to get in the way of any plans you might have."

  "I hadn't made any plans," he told her. "In fact, I have to work." His eyes went wide. "I have to work" he repeated. "And Jeff's day-care arrangements don't start for a week." Reece raked his fingers through his hair. "How could my own kid slip my mind like that?"

  Maggie grimaced. "It's not your fault."

  The gentleness of her tone drew his gaze to hers. She looked as though she wanted to reach out and touch his arm.

  "It's mine," she went on. "You've gotten so wrapped up in my problems that you've lost sight of your own. And for that, I apologize. Look, let me help you out. I'll be at the house anyway. Let me watch Jeff for you."

  "I can't let you do that. Jeff's a rambunctious eight-year-old. He would run you ragged."

  She smiled, and Reece felt his heart lurch in his chest.

  "Hey, I'm in better shape than I look," she said. "I'll hold my own. Besides, if I watch Jeff, it'll be sort of a... payback. For all the help you've given me."

  "Maggie—" his tone grew serious "—I don't need any payback from you. That's not why I've offered to help you." His eyes lit with a thought. "Hey, you said you'd been trained in counseling...."

  She nodded.

  "That camp director said Jeff needed help. Do you think that maybe, I mean, if you were to watch him this week, you could...?" The rest of his question faded. Then he shook his head. "Never mind. It's too much to ask."

  "Look, I see what you're getting at," she said. "I don't mind talking with Jeff. My training was specialized, though. Geared more toward abused women. But I have lots of common sense. And that should hold me in good stead against anything your son could throw at me." She tucked her bottom lip between her even white teeth. Then she said, "But there is something you could do to help."

  "Anything."

  Maggie studied him a moment. "I'd like for you to think about your son as objectively as possible. If he's got an attitude problem, then we're going to have to remain as unbiased as possible if we're going to succeed in adjusting it."

  He nodded. The l
ove he felt for his son was as big as the universe, too big for him to even try to describe. He only hoped he could do as Maggie asked and remain objective. Reece was about to thank her when something in her eyes stole his thoughts.

  Abruptly, her gaze grew even more intense. "Why have you?"

  Reece frowned in bewilderment, not understanding what she was asking.

  Before he could question her, she elaborated, "Offered to help me, I mean? You said you didn't do it for any kind of payback."

  She didn't look as if she believed that. Reece wrapped his fingers around the cool glass and hesitated. "The honest-to-goodness truth is, if you'd asked me that a few days ago, I'd have been forced to admit that you're one of the most beautiful women I've ever met. And that reaching out to women isn't easy for me. And that my initial offer to help you might have been made from… all the wrong reasons."

  Rather than looking offended, though, her eyes glittered with the kind of mirth that told him she understood his naughty motives.

  "But everything has changed," he continued. "Oh, all the reasons I offered to help in the beginning are still true. But… something's happened." He fingered the paper napkin on the table. "I'm helping you, Maggie, because I want to." He nodded. "Because I want to."

  A small smile crept over her lips, and it matched his to a T. It was the sort of smile a man and woman offered each other when they had reached some kind of new understanding. Some time in the last few minutes, they'd found some new level in this relationship they found themselves in. He didn't know what it meant; he only knew he liked it.

  * * *

  Later that night, Maggie was in the basement of Reece's house where the washer and dryer were located. The laundry room was at one end of the basement, the other having been finished off into a cozy play area for Jeff.

  Without having given the task much thought, Maggie had tossed Reece's and Jeff's clothes in with her own. No sense doing two small loads when one large one would cut down on time and energy. The soft, muted rotation of the dryer lulled her into a contemplative state as she folded the freshly laundered whites.

  Dinner had been a quiet affair. Jeff had barely said two words. The acute silence only heightened Reece's tension where his son was concerned.

  Her hand slowed its motion until it stilled completely.

  Reece had worn this shirt. This soft fabric had covered his skin. Again and again.

  Helplessly, she lifted the T-shirt and pressed it to her face. All she smelled was the light, clean fragrance of the dryer sheet she'd tossed in with the wet laundry. But she could easily imagine the warm scent of him. All she had to do was close her eyes, which she did.

  The sound of soft footfalls on the basement steps had her eyes flying open, her hands fluttering to fold the shirt, before Reece caught her. Her fingers fumbled, the cotton slipping from one hand. That was all she needed—to have Reece get a glimpse of her with her nose stuck in his clean undershirt!

  By the time he'd reached the bottom of the steps and had rounded the corner, she'd tucked the shirt onto the pile of clean clothes that belonged to him, and she snatched up a white short-sleeved top that was hers.

  "Maggie, can we talk?"

  The hesitation and uncertainty in his question made her brows draw together.

  "Sure," she said. She finished folding her shirt, laid it atop the small pile of clean clothes and then waited for him to continue.

  Several silent seconds passed. Reece's gaze darted to the washer, and then to the clean clothes that Maggie was folding.

  "You don't need to be doing our laundry," he said.

  "It's okay," she assured him. "It was here, and I had to wash a few things, so..." She let the thought trail off.

  He laced his fingers together, then unlaced them and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

  "Jeff's asleep." He rocked back on his heels. "Dinner was pretty awkward, huh?"

  "A little," she agreed.

  "My son completely ignored you," he said. He paused. "His behavior was pretty rude."

  He looked at her for a long moment, his piercing gaze doing crazy things to her blood pressure. Every warning system in her body jangled with alarm.

  "Noticing is the best first step," she said, trying to keep her voice light.

  She watched him take his hands out of his pockets and again lace his fingers together, his thumbs absently competing in a lazy wrestling match. He seemed nervous. So unlike the confident Reece that she'd come to know. Her heart went out to him, but she resisted the urge to actually reach out and touch him.

  "I've taken your advice. I've been thinking objectively about my son and the problem he might have...."

  Maggie's brow rose.

  "The problem he has," Reece corrected. "Anyway, I've thought of some things you should know. His getting kicked out of camp hasn't been the first sign of trouble. But I never really put two and two together before now."

  Her brow creased with concern.

  "Jeff's had problems in school from day one," Reece went on. "Oh, the first year wasn't too bad, but second grade was a nightmare. When you forced me to really look at my son and how he behaves, I realized that his problems in school might stem from how he feels about women. But like I said, I never pieced it together. Objectively." He inhaled deeply. "And in order to think objectively about Jeff, I had to do the same about... myself."

  The agonized expression that crossed his face tore at Maggie's tender emotions.

  "The idea scares the devil out of me," he went on, "to think that—" his eyes held a sudden intense anguish that actually took her breath away "—he's learned that behavior from me."

  Aching inside at the pain he expressed, she couldn't resist reaching out to him. She slid her palm over his tightly fisted hands.

  "I mean, I have friends who tell me all the time that I'm too hard on women, that I'm too suspicious, that my attitude is too... negative... too distrustful. Jason and Derrick actually laugh at me. It's a big joke between us. But it never really dawned on me that Jeff is picking that stuff up… my son is learning from me, Maggie."

  Sudden emotion glistened in his dark eyes, and she thought her heart was going to split right in two.

  "Why didn't I realize it? How could I have missed it? Jeff is learning how to be an adult. By watching me. By mimicking me. And that camp director said the same things about my son that my friends say about me. Why didn't I see it?" He shook his head in wonder. "And how the hell am I supposed to help Jeff... when I need help myself?"

  Unable to resist the urge any longer, Maggie reached up and cupped his jaw. "I already told you I'd help Jeff. I'll talk to him, I promise. And I'll help you, too. Any way I can."

  He looked so overwhelmed by her offer. Obviously, he had no idea how she could help him. Neither did she, for that matter. All she did know was that she wanted to.

  His forehead wrinkled as his anguished mind churned, and she longed to reach out and smooth her fingertips across his brow. Instead, she took her hand from his face and placed it gently on his shoulder.

  "I came from a home broken by divorce," he began quietly, contemplatively. "I hated it, the constant fighting, the tension, and I decided very early on that, when I married, I would do everything in my power to make my wife happy. To be a good husband. A good father."

  Maggie sensed that these words, these thoughts, were all new to him, as though he were working them out in his head for the first time as he spoke.

  "I met Jen in college."

  She felt him tense inadvertently when he mentioned his ex-wife's name.

  "I gave her everything a woman could want. Everything. And for a while, our relationship was... okay." His breath left him in an exasperated rush. "Who am I kidding? My marriage was never even okay. It was awful. Jen was just so... dissatisfied. I tried to be a good husband. We bought a house. She hated to clean. She wanted to live in a small apartment. In the nearest big city."

  He'd been gazing off over Maggie's shoulder, but now his e
yes locked on to hers.

  "I love this town," he said. "I didn't want to move to Richmond. I was sure that a baby would draw us closer together, make us happy. But Jen wanted a career. She said she would make a terrible mother, but I knew in my gut she was wrong. Finally, I talked her into trying. And you know something? My gut was wrong and she was dead right—she is a terrible mother."

  Maggie felt his shoulders stiffen. "No wonder you're bitter," she said softly.

  He looked at her, searched her gaze as though he would find some answers hidden there.

  "I gave her everything, Maggie. Everything I possibly could."

  She massaged the taut muscle of his shoulder, and then let her fingers slide to his biceps. "You gave her everything," she purposefully kept her tone whisper soft "except the freedom to be."

  Maggie was relieved when his eyes lit with curiosity rather than anger.

  "You and Jen wanted different things," she went on. "I'm not a marriage counselor, but I think this is a pretty easy call. The two of you were just plain incompatible. And no matter what you would have done, what you would have given, I think that the only way you could have made her happy was to be unhappy—" she shrugged one shoulder a fraction "—living the life she wanted to live."

  He remained quiet; however, it was so evident that his brain was absorbing her words like a dry sponge sucked up liquid.

  "You probably view your marriage as a bad experience." She offered him a small smile. "But Jeff is a wonderful result of the time you spent with your ex-wife. You told me that your son is the center of your world. Any idiot can see that you love him."

  Giving her a dubious look, he replied, "Yeah, but I'm teaching my son some awful stuff."

  "Well," she said. "Like I've already said, recognizing the problem is half the battle. At least now you can do something..." She hesitated when she saw his eyes brighten. "Positive," she finished.

  He nodded, rubbing his hand over his jaw. "You're right," he said. "What is that hackneyed saying... today is the first day of the rest of your life."