by Diana Palmer
He had forty-nine percent of the stock, but his cousins had thirty-one shares between them. And alone of the cousins down in Texas would have sided with him in a proxy fight if Meredith sided against him, he could lose everything. Nina had laughed. He still remembered the look on her face as she scrutinized Meredith in a manner too contemptuous for words.
Blake had done much worse. The realization that his uncle had tried to control his life even from the grave and the embarrassment of having his haughty cousins snicker at him was just too much.
"Marry her?" he'd said slowly after the will had been read, rising out of his chair to confront Meredith in the dead silence that followed. "My God, marry that plain, dull, shadow of a woman? I'd rather lose the real estate companies, the money and my left leg than marry her!" He'd moved closer to Meredith, watching her cringe and go pale at the humiliation of having him say those things so loudly in front of the family. "No dice, Meredith," he said with venom. "Take the stock and go to hell with it. I don't want you!"
He'd expected her to burst into tears and run out of the room, but she hadn't. Deathly pale, shaking so hard she could barely stand, she lowered her eyes, turned away and walked out with dignity far beyond her twenty years. It had shamed him later to remember her stiff pride and his own loss of control that had prompted the outburst. The cousin from Texas had glared at him with black eyes and walked out without another word, leaving him alone with Nina and other cousins, who subsequently filed suit to control of the real estate companies from him.
But Nina had smiled and clung to him and promised heaven, because she was sure he'd get the stock back somehow. She'd advised him to talk to the lawyer.
He had. But the only way to get the stock back, apparently, was to marry Meredith or break the will. Both were equally impossible.
He was still smoldering when he found Meredith coming out the back door. She'd been in the kitchen saying goodbye to Mrs. Jackson.
She was pale and unusually quiet, and she looked as if she didn't want to stop. But he'd gotten in front of her in the deserted, shaded backyard and refused to let her pass.
"I don't want the shares," she said, without looking at him. "I never did. I knew nothing about what your uncle had planned, and I wouldn't have gone through with it if I had."
"Wouldn't you?" he demanded coldly. "Maybe you saw a chance to marry a rich man. Your family is poor."
"There are worse things than being poor," she replied quietly. "And people who marry for money earn it, as you'll find out one day."
"I will?" He caught her arms roughly. "What do you mean?"
"I mean that Nina wants what you have, not what you are," she replied with a sad smile. "Nina loves me," he said. "No."
"What does it matter to you, anyway?" he growled. "I haven't been able to turn around without running into you for the past two months. You're always here, getting in the way! What's the matter, did you decide I that one kiss wasn't enough, and you're hot for more?"
In fact, it had been the other way around. He'd wanted her so desperately that his mind had gone into hiding, behind the anger he used to disguise the hunger that was driving him mad.
He pulled her into his arms, angry at life and circumstances, ignoring her faint struggles. "God forbid that you should go away with nothing," he added. And he kissed her with all his fury and frustration in his lips. He accused her of chasing him, of wanting his uncle's money. And then he turned around and walked off, leaving her in tears.
His eyes closed as he came back to the present, hating the memory, hating his cruelty. He'd been a different man then, a colder, less feeling man. It had irritated him that Meredith disturbed him physically, that he could be aroused by the sound of her voice, by the sight of her. Because of what he thought he felt for Nina, he'd pushed his growing attraction to Meredith out of his mind. Nina loved him and Meredith just wanted what he had—or so he'd been sure at the time. Now he knew better, and it was too late.
Those few minutes he'd made love to Meredith in the stable that long-ago afternoon had been the sweetest and saddest of his entire life. He'd been cruel after the will was read because he'd felt betrayed by his uncle and by her. But he'd also been sad, because he wanted Meredith far more than Nina. He'd given his word to Nina that he was going to marry her, and honor made him stick to it. So he'd forced Meredith to run away to remove the temptation from his path. He'd known deep inside that he couldn't have resisted Meredith much longer. And he had no right to her.
It struck him as odd that he'd lost control with Meredith. He'd never lost it with Nina, although he'd had a lukewarm kind of feeling for her that had grown out of her adoration and teasing. But what he'd felt with Meredith had been fire and storm. The last time he'd seen her, he'd raged at her that she'd tempted him by following him around like a lovesick puppy, and that had been the last straw. She'd run then, all right, and she hadn't stopped. Not for five years. A week after she left, an attorney brought him the stock, legally signed over to him without a single request for money. Nina had been delighted, and she'd led him right to the altar. He'd been so cut up by his own conscience about what he'd done to Meredith that he hadn't protested, even though his yearn for Nina had all but left him.
He went through the motions of making love to Nina, but it wasn't at all satisfying to him. And she always smiled at him so lovingly when they were in bed together. Smiling. Until the day the court battle started, initiated by his cousins, and he was backed into a corner that Nina didn't think he'd get out of. So she left him and divorced him, and he'd had years to regret his own foolishness.
Meredith's attitude toward him in the shop hadn't really come as a surprise. He knew how badly he'd hurt her that day, frightened her. Probably she'd never had a lover or wanted one, because if appearances were anything to go by, he'd left some bad scars. He felt even guiltier about that. But it didn't seem as if he were going to get close enough to tell her the truth about what had happened—even if his pride would allow it.
And anyway, she'd made her feelings about the house clear. She wouldn't voluntarily set foot in it. He sighed heavily. Incredible, he thought, how a man could become his own worst enemy. Looking back, he knew his uncle had been right. If he'd married Meredith, she'd have loved him, and in time he might have been able to love her back. As things stood, that was something he'd never know.
Down the road at Bobby and Bess's house, Meredith Calhoun was halfheartedly watching a movie on Bess's VCR as she tried to come to grips with the unexpected confrontation with Blake.
She felt shaky inside. The sight of Blake, with his jet black hair, green eyes and arrogant, mocking smile, had twisted her heart. Over the years she'd tried to force herself to go out on dates, see other men. But it hadn't worked. She couldn't bear for any man to do more than kiss her, and even the kisses were bitter and unpleasant after Blake's. One part of her was afraid of Blake because of what he'd done to her, but another part remembered the first kiss in the stable, the sweet, slow hunger that had flared between them like summer lightning. And because of that kiss, no other man had ever been able to stir her.
Blake's daughter had come as the biggest surprise. Meredith hadn't known about the child. It seemed, from what Elissa said, that nobody had. Sarah Jane was a quirk of fate, and she wondered if Blake still loved Nina. If he did, Sarah Jane would be a comfort to him. But when he'd said that Nina was dead, it had been without a scrap of emotion in his face or his eyes. He didn't seem to care one way or another. That was strange, because he'd been so adamant about marrying Nina, so certain that she loved him.
Meredith got up, oblivious to the television, and began to wander restlessly around Bess's big living room. She stopped in front of the picture window. Beyond it, on a rise a few hundred yards away, was Blake's house. She sighed, remembering the happy times she'd had there before the will had been read. Blake had always seemed to resent her, but that day in the stable had been full of soft magic. Because of it, she'd actually expected something more from him th
an anger. She'd dreamed afterward that he'd left Nina and discovered that he loved Meredith and couldn't live without her. Dreams.
She laughed with a new cynicism. That would be the day, when Blake Donavan would feel anything but dislike for her. He hadn't been openly antagonistic today, but he'd verged on it just before she left the store. Sarah liked her and it was going to be difficult to keep the child at bay without hurting her. Meredith had a feeling that Sarah Jane's young life hadn't been a happy one. She didn't act like a contented child, and apparently she'd only been with Blake and Mrs. Jackson for a day or so. Meredith had wondered why, but hadn't dared ask Blake.
Sarah reminded her of herself at that age, a poor little kid from the wrong side of the tracks, with no brothers or sisters and parents who worked themselves into early graves trying to make a living with the sweat of their brows. Bess had been her only friend, and Bess had it even worse than she did at home. The two of them had become close as children and remained close as adults. So when Bess had invited Meredith, with Bobby's blessing, to come and stay for a few weeks, she'd welcomed the rest from work and routine.
She hadn't consciously considered that Blake was going to be a very big part of her visit. She'd actually thought she could come to Jack's Corner without having to see him at all. Which was silly. King and Elissa and Bess and Bobby all knew him, and Blake and King were best friends. She wondered if maybe she'd rationalized things because of Blake, because she'd wanted to see him again, to see if her fears had been real or just manifestations of unrequited love and sorrow. She wanted to see if looking at him could still make her knees go weak and her heart run away.
Well, now she knew. It could. And if she had any sense of self-preservation, she was going to have to keep some distance from him. She couldn't risk letting Blake get close to her heart a second time. Once had been enough—more than enough. She'd just avoid him, she told herself, and everything would be all right.
But avoiding him turned out to be a forlorn hope, because Sarah Jane liked Meredith and contrived to get her father to call Elissa about that visit she'd mentioned.
Blake listened to the request with mixed feelings. Sarah Jane was beginning to settle down a little, although she was still belligerent and not an overly joyful addition to the household. Mrs. Jackson was coping well enough, but she'd vanish the minute Blake came home from work, leaving him to try and talk to his sullen young daughter. He knew that the situation needed a woman's touch, but Mrs. Jackson wasn't the woman. Meredith already liked Sarah, and Sarah was drawn to her. If he could get Meredith to befriend the child, it would make his life easier. But in another way, he was uncertain about trying to force himself and Sarah on Meredith. After having seen how frightened she still was of him, how bitter she was about the past, he might open old wounds and rub salt in them. He didn't want to hurt Meredith, but Sarah Jane was driving him nuts, and he needed help.
"You have to call 'lissa," Sarah Jane said firmly, her mutinous mouth pouting up at him. "She promised I could play with her little girl. I want to see Mer'dith, too. She likes me." She glared at him, her eyes so like his only in her youthful face. "You don't like me."
"I explained that to you," he said with exaggerated patience as he perched on the corner of his desk. "We don't know each other."
"You don't ever come home," she said, sighing. "And Mrs. Jackson doesn't like me, either."
"She's not used to children, Sarah, any more than I am." A corner of his mouth twisted. "Look, sprout, I'll try to spend more time with you. But you've got to understand that I'm a busy man. A lot of people depend on me."
"Can't you call 'lissa?" she persisted. "Please?" she added. "Please?"
He found himself picking up the telephone. Sarah had a knack for getting under his skin. He was beginning to get used to the sound of her voice, the running footsteps in the morning, the sound of cartoons and children's programs coming from the living room. Maybe in time he and Sarah would get along better. They were still in the squaring off and glaring stages right now, and she was every bit as stubborn as he was.
He talked to Elissa, who was delighted to comply with Sarah's request. She promised to set things up for the following morning because it was Saturday and Blake could bring Sarah down to Bess's house. But first she wanted to check with Bess and make sure it was all right.
Blake and Sarah both waited for the phone to ring. Blake wondered how Meredith was going to feel about it, but apparently she didn't mind, because Elissa had called back within five minutes and said that Bess would be expecting the child about ten o'clock. Not only that, Sarah was invited to spend the day.
"I can spend the day?" Sarah asked, brightening.
"We'll see." Blake was noncommittal. "Why don't you find something to play with?"
Sarah shrugged. "I don't have any toys. I had a teddy bear, but he got lost and Daddy Brad wouldn't let me look for him before they brought me here."
His eyes narrowed. "Don't call him that again," he said gruffly. "He isn't your father. I am."
Sarah's eyes widened at his tone, and he felt uncomfortable having said anything at all.
"Can I call you 'Daddy'?" Sarah asked after a long minute.
Blake's breath caught in his throat. He shifted. "I don't care," he said impassively. In fact, he did care. He cared like hell.
"Okay," she said, and went off to the kitchen to see if Mrs. Jackson had any more cookies.
Blake frowned, thinking about what she'd said about toys. Surely a child of almost four still played with them. He'd have to ask Elissa. She'd know about toys and little girls.
The next morning, Sarah dressed herself in her new frilly dress and her shoes and went downstairs. Blake had to bite his lip to keep from howling. She had the dress on backward and unbuttoned. She had on frilly socks, but one was yellow and one was pink. Her hair was unruly, and the picture she made was of chaos, not femininity.
"Come here, sprout, and let's get the dress on properly," he said.
She glared at him. "It's all right."
"No, it's not." He stood. "Don't argue with me, kid. I'm twice your size."
"I don't have to mind you," she said.
"Yes, you do. Or else."
"Or else what?" she challenged.
He stared down at her. "Or else you'll stay home today."
She grimaced and stared down at the carpet. "Okay."
He helped her turn the dress around and cursed under his breath while he did up buttons that were hard for his big, lean hands to work. He finally got them fixed, then took her upstairs, where he searched until he found matching socks and then brushed her straight hair until it looked soft and shiny.
She turned before he finished, looking small and oddly vulnerable on the vanity stool, and her green eyes met his. "I never had any little children to play with. My mommy said I made her nervous."
He didn't say anything, but he could imagine Nina being uncomfortable around children.
"Can I stay here?" Sarah asked unexpectedly, and there was a flash of real fear in her eyes. "You won't make me go away, will you?"
He had to bite down hard to keep back a harsh curse. "No, I won't make you go away," he said after a minute. "You're my daughter."
"You didn't want me when I was a baby," she accused mutinously.
"I didn't know about you," he said, sitting down and talking to her very seriously, as if she were already an adult. "I didn't know I had a little girl. Now I do. You're a Donavan, and this is your place in the world. Here, with me."
"And I can live here forever?"
"Until you grow up, anyway," he promised. His green eyes narrowed. "You aren't going to start crying or anything, are you?" he asked, because her eyes were glistening.
That snapped her out of it. She glared at him. "I never cry. I'm brave."
"I guess you've had to be, haven't you?" he murmured absently. He stood. "Well, if we're going, let's go. And you be on your best behavior. I'm going to tell Bess to swat you if you don't mind her."
"Mer'dith won't let her hit me," she said smugly. "She's my friend. Do you have any friends?"
"One or two," he said, holding her hand as they went down the long staircase.
"Do they come to play with you?" she asked seriously. "And could they play with me, too?"
He chuckled deep in his throat, trying to imagine King Roper sitting cross-legged on the living room carpet, dressing a doll.
"I don't think so," he replied. "They're grownups."
"Oh. Grown-ups are too big to play, I guess. I don't want to grow up. I wish I had a doll."
"What kind of doll?" he asked.
"A pretty one with long golden hair and pretty dresses. I could talk to her. And a teddy bear," she said sadly. "I want a teddy bear just like Mr. Friend. I miss Mr. Friend. He used to sleep with me. I'm as-cared of the dark," she added.
"Yes, I know," he murmured, having had to help Mrs. Jackson get her to bed every night and chase out the monsters before she closed her eyes.
"Lots of monsters live in my room," she informed him. "You have to kill them every night, don't you?"
"So far, I'm ahead by one monster," he reassured her.
"You're awful big," she said, eyeing him with an unblinking scrutiny. "I bet you weigh one million pounds."
"Not quite."
"I'm ten feet tall," she said, going on tiptoe.
He led her out the door, calling goodbye to Mrs. Jackson. It seemed natural to hold her hand and smile at her chatter. There was magic in a child, even a hard case like this one. He wondered if security would soften her, and doubted it. She had spirit and inner strength. Those qualities pleased him. She'd need them if she lived with him.
Bess and Bobby's house was a split-level brick with exquisite landscaping and a small thicket of trees that separated their property from Blake's. In the driveway were Elissa's gray Lincoln, Meredith's red Porsche convertible and the blue Mercedes that Bess drove. Blake parked behind them on the long driveway and helped Sarah out.