by Susan Gable
“Upstairs. More comfortable than this.” At the acrid scent of charring food, Finn realized his entire staff had gathered, all staring at him. “Nobody but me smells that? My food is burning, Marco! Earn your paycheck, will you? Refire that fish. And go easy on the sauces when you plate them. They’re not supposed to be swimming when they’re served. All of you, get back to work! We have customers to feed!”
Snapped from their train-wreck trances, they scurried in five directions.
Finn climbed the stairs, his brother two steps ahead of him with a backpack slung over his shoulder. “Open up that flower room right next to mine.”
“This…this isn’t how I imagined meeting you,” the girl murmured.
Finn gave her a wry smile. “It’s not how I imagined meeting you, either.”
“You—you imagined meeting me?”
The incredulous note tore at his heart. He didn’t want to tell her they’d mostly been nightmares in which his sick child accused him of being responsible for the illness…for failing him. Or her, as the case had turned out to be. “I did. Your mother—Amelia is your mother, right?” The idea that he might be faced with two different families his impulsive behavior during culinary school had wrought blew his mind. Couldn’t be possible. Could it?
At her nod, he stifled a sigh of relief and continued as he reached the top of the stairs, “Your mother wouldn’t tell me if you were a girl or a boy. So I imagined meeting both. But never like this. Hey. What’s your name?”
“Jordan,” Hayden said, from the bedroom’s doorway.
Finn scowled at him, easing the girl to the bed. She scooted into the middle. The metal bed frame squeaked as he sat on the edge of the double mattress. “Your name’s Jordan?”
“Yes.”
“Jordan what?”
Hayden hooted. “You don’t remember her mother’s last name? That must have been quite the night, my man. Even I haven’t done that.”
Jordan bolted upright, indignation firing her eyes—eyes the exact same shade that greeted Finn in the mirror each morning. “It’s not his fault. He didn’t know my mom. He was our sperm donor.”
His brother’s mouth gaped. The blabbermouth of the family, rendered speechless.
Finn’s face heated, but something in his chest softened. Five minutes into their relationship and she was defending him. “Keep your trap shut, Jabber Jaw. Not one word to anyone, you hear me? I’ll grind you into sausage and feed you to stray dogs.”
“They’d arrest you for cruelty to animals if you did that.” His brother x-ed his heart. “You have my word. But…can I be there when you tell Mom?”
Finn grabbed one of the pillows from the bed and hurled it. Hayden easily caught it, grinning. Jordan giggled.
Finn returned his attention to her. “Speaking of mothers, does yours know you’re here?”
She fidgeted. “Uhhh…”
“That’s what I figured.” He couldn’t see the woman who wouldn’t even tell him the gender of her child giving the kid permission to meet him—especially without Amelia being there. “She’s got to be out of her mind with worry. We have to call her.”
The girl’s shoulders slumped. “Do we have to do it now?”
“How long have you been gone?”
“What time is it?”
“Seven thirty-two,” Hayden said.
“I left Boston at—”
“Boston? How the hell, uh, heck did you get here from Boston by yourself?”
“It was easy.”
Jordan recounted her travel adventures—how she’d managed all of it, including how she’d temporarily redirected her mother’s e-mails from TravelEasy to a new Yeehaw e-mail account Jordan had set up for her.
Finn wanted to high-five her for being so damn clever, and shake some sense into her for the risks she’d taken and the panic he knew Amelia had to be experiencing. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?”
“Is this going to be my first father-daughter lecture?” she asked.
“Probably.” And hopefully the last. ’Cause he had no idea what he was doing. Nor did he want to know what he was doing at this point in his life.
She folded her hands and broke into a broad grin. “Okay. Let me have it.”
Hayden chortled, still in the doorway.
“Make yourself useful,” Finn told him. “Go see if my kitchen’s intact and Marco’s not poisoning the customers.” He looked at his daughter. “Did you eat dinner?”
“No.”
“Hungry?”
“A little.”
“Allergic to anything?”
“Tomatoes, if I eat too much.”
“Bring her up a bowl of the chicken with wild rice soup and some bread.” The kid could stand a few carbs. “What do you want to drink?”
“Root beer?”
“Root beer it is. Move it, Hayden.”
Hayden hunched over, dragging his foot. “Will that be all, Master?”
Jordan laughed, then covered her mouth with her hand when Finn shook his head. “Don’t encourage him.” He glanced back at his brother, whose cat-in-the-cream grin told Finn he was enjoying all this just a little too much. “That’ll do, Quasi. Try not to spill on the way back up.”
“Yes, Master.” Hayden disappeared from the room, boot still scraping behind him.
“Cell phone.” Finn held out his hand.
“What makes you think I have one?”
“You’re what? Thirteen?” She nodded.
“You’ve got a cell phone. And I want the call to come from it so your mother answers.”
Jordan climbed from the bed, unzipping the pouch on the front of the backpack. She slapped it into his palm and plunked herself on the edge of the bed next to him.
AMELIA PACED the small stretch of carpet in front of the dresser and desk. Pencil poised over a little notebook, the young male officer—who looked like he wasn’t much older than Jordan—fired off more questions while his partner, an older woman, eyed her warily.
Whether with suspicion or because at six months pregnant Amelia already looked ready to pop, she couldn’t decide.“What was she wearing?”
“I’m not sure. Jeans, sneakers. She was still in her pajamas this morning when I headed down to the conference.”
“And you expected to join her for dinner?”
“Yes. She was supposed to order room service for lunch. She wasn’t supposed to leave the room at all without me. She’s sick.” They’d already been over this.
“What did she take with her?”
“Her backpack with her laptop, video camera and cell phone.”
“Sounds like standard stuff a teenager would want with her while she explores the city,” the lady cop said. “Or runs away. You’re sure she didn’t run?”
Amelia shook her head. “She’s not the runaway type. I’ve never had any problems with Jordan.”
“Are there any custody issues?”
“No. She’s mine alone.”
“No baby-daddy in the picture?” asked the rookie.
Why did everyone always want to know about Jordan’s father? It wasn’t the dark ages. Single moms were common. “No.”
Amelia’s cell phone vibrated, then launched into “Sweet Child o’ Mine,” dancing on the desktop. “That’s her now.” She lunged for the phone. “Jordan? Where are y—”
“Amelia?” said a male voice on the other end.
As if an arctic breeze had blown into the room, cold raced through her body. “Who is this? Why do you have my daughter’s cell phone? What’s going on?”
“Relax, Amelia. Everything’s fine. Jordan’s fine.”
“Who the hell is this?”
The cops watched her intently.
“Finn Hawkins. Jordan is here with me.”
Amelia sank into the chair at the desk. “With you? In Erie?”
“Yep. Apparently she’s quite resourceful. Smart.”
Amelia drew in a deep breath, blowing it out slowly. The baby kicked her
hard in the ribs, and she winced, rubbing her rounded belly.
“Everything okay, Dr. Young?” the woman officer asked.
“Hold on.” Amelia stabbed the mute button. “Yes, Officers. Thank you very much. My daughter is safe, with, um, a friend.” She wasn’t going to give the male cop the satisfaction of knowing that her daughter was with her… Amelia mentally choked on the term “baby-daddy.” “At least, until I get my hands on her. She’s grounded for life after this.”
After taking down the details of exactly where Jordan was—needed for their report, they said—the male cop stuffed the notebook into his pocket while his partner nodded sagely. “I’ve got two of my own, so I understand. Glad she’s safe.” The pair headed for the door, the woman speaking into the radio mic clipped to her shoulder.
Amelia unmuted the phone. “Put my daughter on, Mr. Hawkins.”
“Mr. Hawkins? I thought we were beyond that, Amelia.”
The sexy baritone thrum of his voice made her remember that day in his kitchen.
She clung to her anger at Jordan, the mind-numbing fear she’d experienced moments earlier. “I’m in no mood to play games with you right now. How long will it take me to drive from Boston to your place?”
“Drive? It would be easier to catch a flight. That’s what Jordan did.”
Another week’s grounding—from everything!—got added to Jordan’s life sentence. “We drove to Boston, so my car is here.”
“Drove to Boston from where?”
“None of your business,” she snapped. “How long?”
“I don’t know. Long. Eight hours?”
“I’ll get on the road now. I’ll be there as soon—”
“It’s late, Amelia. Why don’t you get a good night’s rest and start out in the morning?”
“And why don’t you put my daughter on the phone, so I can get the yelling out of my system?” Amelia shoved her fist into her lower right lat. The baby squirmed and rolled, a gymnast on speed, thanks to the adrenaline coursing through her system.
“She’s eating at the moment. She, uh, she was hungry. Hold on a sec, okay?”
Jordan breathed into the receiver. Amelia sank to the edge of the bed. “Jordan? I can tell it’s you.”
“Are you mad?”
“Mad doesn’t begin to cover it.”
“I’m grounded, aren’t I?”
“That’s a safe bet. Count on other punishment as well.”
Jordan sighed. “Don’t care. It was worth it.”
“I’ll be leaving shortly to come get you. We’ll discuss it more then. Put—” she fumbled for the right way to refer to him “—Mr. Hawkins back on.”
“Just a minute.”
In the background, Amelia heard him speaking to someone else. “Thanks, Hayden. Yeah, I’ll be down in a few minutes. Tell Marco he’s not to even attempt the risotto for table ten. Basic dish, but somehow he wrecks it every time. Jordan, I’m going to talk to your mom in the hallway for now, okay?”
“Okay.” Her daughter’s voice, even from a distance, was music to Amelia’s ears.
The idea of losing her, in any way… Amelia’s nose tingled, and she bit down on her lower lip. There would be no crying. Jordan was safe. Damn hormones.
She stalked to the closet, yanking clothes from the hangers with one hand and tossing them into the open suitcase on the stand.
“Amelia? Look, take your time getting here. Be safe. We’ll…well…we’ll manage to take care of her. I have three unoccupied bedrooms here, and she can have her pick. I’m certainly capable of feeding her. And not pizza or junk food. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
Nothing to worry about except for her vulnerable daughter bonding with a man she was never going to see again.
“She’s not your daughter,” she reminded him, bending over to pull Jordan’s pink eyelet socks from the bottom dresser drawer. “She’s mine. I don’t want her hurt because she wants more than you can give her.”
“Seems to me she’s already been hurt because she wants more than you can give her, Amelia. Like a father.”
She straightened up so fast the baby jolted her with another shot to the ribs. The kid, whether male or female, she didn’t know—she was saving that as the one surprise of the whole process—was going to be a hockey player. After unclenching her teeth, Amelia muttered, “Plenty of kids grow up without a father.”
“And isn’t that a shame? I guess when I originally donated my sperm I was thinking more along the lines of married couples who couldn’t have children. I didn’t envision children growing up without a father.”
She wanted to cram Finn Hawkins’s arrogant self-righteousness down his throat. He’d known her daughter all of two minutes, and already he was lecturing her on the importance of fathers?
Finn’s voice softened as he added, “She just wanted to know me, Amelia. To know something more about herself in the process. And I’m going to spend every second between now and when you get here making that happen.”
All the energy and strength drained out of her as she stared at the now-silent phone.
Words failed her. But then, there was no one to hear a snappy comeback even if she had one.
Jordan.
And Finn Hawkins. Together.
The very thought raised goose bumps on her arms.
The man had played his part in Amelia’s life. In her plan. And now he needed to stay out of it.
CHAPTER FOUR
A DISQUIETING SENSE OF déjà vu settled around Amelia as she turned into the parking lot of Finn’s restaurant-home, empty except for two vehicles. There had been many changes in eight months. No more construction equipment, for one. And the trees were now green.
Get in, get what you came for, get out, she reminded herself. Just like last time.Her face warmed. Okay, maybe not just like that. Last time she’d gotten way more than she’d bargained for from him.
She slid from her Liberty, taking a moment to stretch out the travel kinks. She’d driven several hours the night before, until exhaustion had forced her to find a motel.
It had galled her when she’d called her daughter’s cell and gotten Finn instead, who reported that Jordan was sleeping peacefully in one of his guest bedrooms.
Now almost eleven in the morning, Amelia headed, as instructed, toward the back entrance of the place. Apparently Fresh didn’t serve Sunday brunch or Sunday anything, for that matter.
She hurried past the padlocked silver walk-in freezer at the edge of the parking lot and down the sidewalk, entering the covered porch at the rear of the building. As she reached for the doorknob, the view through the window brought her up short.
Jordan and Finn stood at the work island. Her daughter beamed at the man as she scraped something from a bowl into a pan.
Jordan hadn’t looked that happy, that enthusiastic, since before her diagnosis.
Amelia’s hand trembled. Was it right to keep Jordan from getting to know him?
She squared her shoulders. Damn skippy it was. Without so much as a knock, she walked into the kitchen. Her daughter slid the pan into one of the wall ovens.
Two pairs of identical aquamarine eyes turned toward her.
“Mom! Check this out! We’re making…”
Amelia’s you-are-in-so-much-trouble-young-ladyand-just-wait-till-I-get-you-out-of-here scowl wilted Jordan’s smile. The girl studied her sneakers.
Finn patted her shoulder.
Amelia’s stomach tightened at the familiar and slightly possessive gesture. “Get your things, Jordan. It’s almost a sixteen-hour drive home. I want to be back on the road in five minutes.”
Jordan’s head snapped up. “But Mom—”
“Don’t but Mom me. You scared me almost to death. You went on a plane, for crying out loud. Do you have any idea how many germs are in the air on a plane? Your counts have been good, but you know how fast that can change. What the hell were you thinking?”
Anger simmered in her daughter’s eyes and Jordan propped her fist
s on her hips. “I wanted to meet my father. You wouldn’t let me. I found a way. You always tell me we’ve got to have a plan. I made a plan. Who needs Make-a-Wish?”
“Don’t talk to me like that. Your wish is fulfilled. You’ve met him. Now we’re leaving. I’m not going to say it again. Get your stuff and let’s go.”
“Amelia,” Finn began.
She jabbed a finger in his direction. “You be quiet. You have zero say here, so keep your opinions to yourself.”
His eyebrows climbed his forehead. He gave Jordan’s shoulder another pat and nodded down at her. “Go on. Run upstairs and grab your backpack.”
Amelia’s molars threatened to crack as she clamped her jaw together.
“But the triple chocolate brownies…” her daughter protested.
“I’ll box them up and send them to you tomorrow. Overnight. They’ll be at your house by Tuesday.”
“But I wanted to meet everyone! You said—”
“What I said doesn’t matter. I’m sorry you can’t stay for Sunday dinner and meet more of the family. But you have to obey your mom.”
“Whatever.” With a sullen look cast in Amelia’s direction, Jordan crossed the kitchen, stabbed a code into the keypad, then yanked the door to the back staircase so hard it slammed into the wall and bounced closed behind her. Her feet pounded up the steps.
Finn folded his arms.
Amelia did the same.
For a long moment, they simply stared each other down across his kitchen. Then he tilted his head slightly. “Great to see you again, Dr. Amelia Young of Caribou, Maine.” He put a touch of accent on her last name and home town.
Amelia cursed Jordan’s big mouth and easy trust. “Use that information to contact us, and I will slap a restraining order on you so fast you won’t know what hit you.”