Daddy's Girl (Bachelor Fathers)

by Barbara Bretton

  A long time ago he'd shared a week in the Bahamas with a model named Khrystyne. Every time she left to do some shopping, he'd found himself basking in the luxury of having the hotel room to himself. The peace. The quiet. The privacy.

  A pretty good indication a relationship was doomed, now that he thought about it.

  Not this time, however. The door had barely closed behind his bride, and already he was counting the hours until she returned.

  "I've got it bad, Daisy," he said, carting the baby back into the living room where he'd set up a play area for her. He loved the sound of his wife's laughter, the smell of her skin, the way she made every day seem special just by being there.

  He settled Daisy down on her play mat then settled himself down at the desk to draft a proposal for an ad campaign Grantham expected to see in perfect condition by Wednesday. Hunter had no doubt at all that he would knock Grantham's argyles right off.

  At lunch Kate kept Jeannie laughing from borscht through blinis. One of the Cossack-clad waiters was an under-employed stand-up comic, same as Kate, and he spent as much time with them as he could, trading stories and helping to keep Jeannie in stitches.

  "You realize Madonna got her start as a hat check girl here," said Kate as they left the restaurant. "Maybe I should re-think my career path."

  "Your career path is fine," said Jeannie. "It's going to happen big for you one day soon." She gave her friend a hug. "Just you wait and see."

  "How about you?" asked Kate as they headed back toward their neighborhood. "When do you get back to work?"

  Jeannie shuddered. "Don't even talk about it. I have that Hawaii job coming up the end of the week and I can't even bring myself to remind Hunter."

  "Better get moving, girl," said Kate. "Most men don't care for surprises like that."

  They stopped in front of a pricey jewelry store and admired a diamond ring neither could afford.

  "To tell you the truth," said Jeannie, "I've been thinking of calling Leah Peretti to fill in for me."

  "On a trip to Maui?" Kate pressed a palm to Jeannie's forehead. "You're in worse shape than I thought."

  "Maui doesn't compare to what I've got at home, Kate."

  "So take them with you. Let Hunter play help-meet for a change."

  Jeannie gave her friend a sharp look. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

  "Not what you think," said Kate. "It's just you have a career, too. Don't let it fall by the wayside because you got married. I don't know if anyone's told you, but this isn't the 1950's."

  Jeannie smiled. How could Kate understand how much home and family meant to her? There was nothing on earth to compare to the happiness she felt each morning when she woke up knowing she had Hunter and Daisy in her life.

  They said goodbye at the corner of Fifth Avenue and Sixty-Fifth Street. Kate had a rehearsal to get to and, Jeannie suspected, Trey Whittaker would figure somehow in her evening plans.

  She headed north on Fifth Avenue, feeling sublimely happy.

  The only dark cloud on the horizon was of her own making and even that she could banish if she chose to.

  Maybe the time had come to tell Hunter about the family she'd lost. She was tired of brushing away ghosts, of willing away shadows. Once she told him, she'd be able to let the past take its rightful place in her memory. Angie had been right when she said Jeannie owed it to him. And, more importantly, she owed it to herself.

  Happiness was right there in the palm of her hand and this time it wasn't going to slip away.

  The work was going well. The words were there when he needed them and they were witty and clever and destined to make Green Grass Lawn Tractors the hottest thing on wheels since the Ferrari Testarossa.

  He was about to pour himself a beer and admire his handiwork when the intercom buzzed.

  "Mr. Phillips." Bill's friendly voice crackled over the intercom. "A Mr. Burnett is here to see you."

  "Burnett?" He couldn't think of any Burnetts in his Rolodex. "What's it about?"

  "He says it's personal."

  "Okay, Bill. Send him up." Burnett...Burnett. Offhand he couldn't come up with a face to fit the name but that was no reason for the odd prickle of apprehension working its way up his spine.

  He opened the door at the first knock. A tall, handsome man of middle age smiled at him.

  "Michael Burnett." A definite Scottish burr.

  "Hunter Phillips." He extended his hand. The guy had a good grip. Strong without being obnoxious.

  They stood there looking at each other.

  "Do we know each other?" Hunter asked.

  "In a way."

  Hunter waited.

  Apprehension gave way to full-blown fear.

  "You're Callie Phillips's brother, aren't you?"

  Hunter's gut twisted and, involuntarily, he glanced toward the baby playing innocently on the living room floor.

  He opened the door wide and trouble walked right in.

  "'Afternoon, Mrs. Phillips." Bill the doorman tipped his hat to her as she stepped into the cool lobby.

  "Isn't it a wonderful afternoon, Bill?" she asked. "Just the best ever."

  "I buzzed in a friend of your husband's a minute ago," he said jovially. "If you hurry up, you might catch him by the elevator."

  "Thanks, Bill."

  Trey, she thought as she made her way across the lobby. The love bug had found itself a willing victim and Trey Whittaker needed advice on how to woo the wary Kate. She rounded the corner just in time to see a tall, fair-haired man disappear into the elevator. It wasn't Trey. A knot of apprehension formed in her stomach.

  "Don't be ridiculous," she whispered. It was probably one of the execs at CN&S, bringing over some papers for Hunter to sign.

  The elevator took forever to return to the lobby. She stepped into the car and pressed the button to close the doors. Her keys jangled from her fingers as she exited on the fifteenth floor then hurried down the hall to their apartment.

  She was being ridiculous. There wasn't a thing in the world to worry about. She'd had a great time with Kate this afternoon, but the best part of all was coming home to her husband, their child--

  And a strange man sitting in the middle of their living room with Daisy on his lap.

  Chapter 9

  Jeannie stood inside the doorway, arms wrapped tightly across her chest. Her eyes darted past Hunter to Burnett. The Scotsman held Daisy stiffly, the way Hunter had in the beginning. He felt as if he were seeing himself as he'd been almost nine months ago, awkward and uncertain and out of his depth.

  Yet, all Hunter had to do was take one look at the Scotsman and Daisy together and he knew everything he needed to know without asking a single question.

  From the look on his wife's face, so did Jeannie.

  He crossed the room to where she stood. "Jeannie," he said, placing a hand on her shoulder, "this is Michael Burnett."

  Awkwardly Burnett tried to hold Daisy and rise to his feet simultaneously. Jeannie leaped forward and took the baby from him.

  "He wouldn't have dropped her, Jeannie." Hunter's voice sounded tight and unnatural to his ears.

  "I think your wife correctly gauged the situation," Burnett said with easy grace. "Daisy is quite a handful, Mrs. Phillips."

  "Jeannie," she said automatically then looked toward Hunter.

  "Michael was a friend of Callie's." If she was looking for more, he was afraid he couldn't provide it.

  Her sharp intake of breath didn't go unnoticed. Daisy looked up at her curiously. "Did--did you know Hunter's sister well?"

  An odd look passed across Burnett's regular features. "We were good friends."

  Jeannie seemed to cling to the words as if they were a life preserver.

  Hunter, however, had no such illusions. "Michael and Callie knew each other in Tokyo."

  "Well," she said, holding Daisy more tightly. "How long will you be in town?"

  "Two days," Burnett said.

  She nodded, looking toward Hunter to break the awkw
ard silence.

  "I've asked Michael to join us for dinner."

  "It's only leftovers," she said to the Scotsman. "With all the wonderful restaurants in this city, I'm sure you could do much better."

  Burnett's gaze flickered from Hunter to Jeannie. "While I appreciate the offer, I'm afraid I have other plans."

  He was a perceptive man.

  Maybe too perceptive.

  Burnett turned again to Hunter. "Perhaps we can continue this tomorrow at the hotel. I'll have the pictures ready for you." He nodded to them both. "I'll see myself out."

  Jeannie settled Daisy back down on her play mat. "Wh-what was that all about?" she asked as the door closed behind the Scotsman.

  She deserved the truth."I think he's Daisy's father."

  Her face grew pale. "You asked him?"

  "No, but it was pretty obvious."

  "So what if they have the same coloring," she said, her voice higher than normal. "That doesn't mean he's Daisy's father."

  "Then why was he here, Jeannie?" he asked, feeling as if he'd gone fifteen rounds with the heavyweight champion. "He didn't stop by for a game of cards."

  "He heard about your sister's death," Jeannie said, her jaw settling into a stubborn line. "What did he say--he had some pictures of her? That's all it was."

  "He wants Daisy." In a bizarre way, it felt good to say the words, to drag them out of the shadows. "He--"

  "She's yours, Hunter," she broke in. "You raised her. She's your daughter."

  "She's not my daughter."

  "In all the ways that matter, she is."

  "Except one." He looked at Daisy, as a kaleidoscope of emotions twisted through him. "If he's Daisy's father, we'll have to deal with it."

  "If your sister had wanted him to be part of Daisy's life, she would have married him."

  "Come on, Jeannie," he said. "This isn't getting us anywhere." He glanced toward Daisy then looked away. Sharp words were flying over her head like knives, but she sat there playing with her plastic keys, as secure and happy as she'd ever been. "If Burnett's her father, he has the right to raise his own daughter the way he sees fit."

  "For God's sake, Hunter!" Jeannie exploded. "You sound like an article in a woman's magazine. This is real life we're talking about. This is Daisy!"

  Daisy looked up at the sound of her name. "Dah!"

  "That's you," said Jeannie, voice breaking. "You might not know it, but she does."

  "She's a baby," he said, looking away. "She can't talk yet. Those are only sounds."

  "You're a fool, Hunter. The truth is staring you right in the face, but you're too blind to see it." She bent down and pressed a kiss to the top of the baby's golden head. "This isn't about Burnett at all, is it? It's about you."

  "The hell it is." He didn't like the direction the argument was taking. Emotional issues had never been his strong suit. When it came to talk of feelings, he was as inarticulate as Daisy.

  "I don't know why I didn't realize it sooner," Jeannie said, pacing the room. "It's so clear to me now. You've finally found your way out."

  "Drop it, Jeannie." His voice was low, deadly calm.

  "You don't know how to handle this. You can't admit you love that little girl and don't want to lose her."

  The muscles in his jaw tightened up. A wiser woman might have noticed.

  "That's it," she continued. "It's easier to let some stranger walk in here and stake a claim than it is to admit that she's your daughter."

  "It doesn't matter what I think," Hunter said through clenched teeth. "If Burnett's her father, the next step is his."

  "And you'll just let her go?"

  "I'll let her go."

  Her beautiful blue eyes filled with tears. "You're lying, Hunter. You couldn't possibly mean that."

  "What do you want me to say, Jeannie? That I don't care about Daisy, that things would be easier if she wasn't around? If that's what you want to hear, tell me and I'll say it."

  "Tell me you'll fight for her," she said. "Tell me you'll keep our family together."

  Hunter turned away and said nothing. Jeannie watched as he walked toward the window and looked down at the street. She thought her heart would break against the unfairness of it all. I can't go through it again, she thought, wishing she could go to him, hold him, convince him to open his heart to happiness. I can't bear to lose another family....

  But Burnett's arrival had changed everything. Neither she nor Hunter could look at their impulsive marriage in quite the same way again. They'd been playing house this past month, as if their situation was your average, everyday American love story.

  Only thing was, nobody had ever mentioned that one very important word: love. They loved Daisy and pizza and the way they fit together in bed. She had freed Hunter to get on with his career, while he and Daisy had given Jeannie the family she'd yearned for, but beyond that neither one of them had dared to go.

  And now she was afraid it was too late.

  Talk to me, Hunter. Maybe together we can find a way....

  The silence in the room was palpable. It had form and shape and weight, and Hunter knew if he touched her all hell would break loose. The argument had set up a barrier between them, as real as a brick wall, although it couldn't be seen with the naked eye.

  Women needed words to soothe the pain. He knew Jeannie was waiting for him to say something, anything, to bridge the gap between them that was growing wider with each second that ticked past.

  He wanted to touch his wife, stroke her, make love to her--tell her what he was thinking in the oldest way possible. Find comfort in her softness and warmth. The words she needed to hear weren't part of his vocabulary and maybe they never would be.

  Sometimes silence said more than words ever could.

  Hunter grabbed some leftover chicken and a can of soda from the refrigerator then buried himself in paperwork.

  Daisy seemed oblivious to the mounting tension in the apartment. The baby ate her dinner with enthusiasm then laughed and splashed her way through bathtime.

  Jeannie, however, felt as if she would break apart any second, shattering into a thousand pieces.

  "I'm putting Daisy to bed," she said from the entrance to the living room.

  He didn't look up from the stack of papers before him. "I'll be there in a minute."

  She wanted to shake him until his teeth rattled. He loved that baby the way a father loved his child, only he was too stubborn and scared to admit it, not even to himself. He had every right to fight for Daisy but she wasn't certain he had the heart. Her husband liked the easy way and there was nothing easy or pleasant about what lay ahead of them if Burnett wanted to fight.

  This beautiful little girl with her cornflower blue eyes and sweet disposition could be snatched away from them in the blink of an eye and apparently Hunter was going to do nothing to stop it from happening.

  She knew what he was about when she married him. Ambitious. Sometimes opportunistic. Pushy and opinionated and destined for the fast lane at CN&S. He'd told her himself that he'd hated the idea of a child. Was it any wonder he had resisted the notion that Daisy was now his daughter? Now that he had the chance to pass Daisy on to someone else, he was painfully eager to do so.

  On their wedding day Walter Grantham had congratulated Hunter for being smart enough to marry a woman who worked with babies for a living. Now that Jeannie was around, he'd said, Hunter would be able to focus his attentions back on his work where they belonged.

  Maybe there had been more truth to that statement than Jeannie had been willing to admit.

  He wasn't anything like her first husband, a man who'd been happy with his lot in life, satisfied with a wife and two little girls and his small plot of Minnesota land. Dan hadn't asked for much from life, but he'd always considered himself the richest man in the world. "I've got you three girls," he'd always said to Jeannie and his daughters. "I can't ask for anything more."

  Hunter dreamed big. He'd been on his own for a long time. He thrived on ambitio
n and competition, all the things Dan had hated. Hunter was complicated, difficult, impossible to understand and somehow she loved him with all her heart.

  She sank into the rocking chair next to the crib and watched as Daisy drifted off into sleep. For a second she saw her own little girls in that crib, but the image vanished as quickly as it had appeared. The here and now was all that was important. It was all anyone really had.

  And now it was slipping away.

  "Is she asleep?" Hunter asked, appearing in the doorway.

  Jeannie nodded, unable to speak around the lump in her throat.

  He leaned into the crib, laying his forefinger against Daisy's tiny cheek. The gesture touched something deep inside her heart and she hated herself for having believed the kind of happiness she'd known this past month could last.

  "You look tired," he said. "You should get some sleep."

  "I will."

  He started to say something more and her breath caught. Tell me you'll fight for her, Hunter. Tell me nothing matters more than our family--or more than being together. Tears sprang to her eyes and she looked down, blinking rapidly. Tell me you love me.

  "Jeannie, I--" He stopped abruptly.

  Please, Hunter...we can find a way together, the three of us....

  "I'm going out," he said after a moment. "I don't know when I'll be back."

  "We'll come with you."

  He shook his head. "This is something I have to do alone."

  "You're going to see Burnett, aren't you."

  He didn't answer. But then, he didn't need to. She could feel his answer in every bone in her body.

  Walking out on Jeannie and Daisy was the hardest thing Hunter had ever done.

  The look of pain in Jeannie's eyes followed him as he rode down the elevator, walked with him across the lobby, and then haunted him as he stepped out onto the street. From the very beginning she'd been able to see past his defenses, straight through to the heart he'd never believed he possessed.