Small Town Romance Collection: Four Complete Romances & A New Novella

by Brown, Carolyn

  “Colleen?” I hugged myself.

  James had gotten this notion a while back that we might be more than friends, an idea that I didn’t share. So I was glad to hear that even in a fit of anger, he was making an attempt to get past us settling into a comfortable relationship. When and if I ever did take the plunge, it would be with all the bells and whistles and fireworks.

  “That’s her name. Are you jealous?” Ashley asked.

  “Not in the least. Maybe he’ll be so in love in two weeks he’ll be ready for a honeymoon to the coast. Call you tomorrow. Give my love to Danny and the boys and kiss Peeta for me.”

  “I don’t kiss cats. I’ll tell Trey to do it. Goodnight, Jessie.”

  “Goodnight,” I said and the phone went dark.

  I had been ten years old when Ashley married Danny and was so proud to be a brides’ maid in her wedding. Then when the boys came along after they were both out of college I had baby sat for them. Now Graham was fourteen and would be in high school in three weeks and Trey was in the seventh grade. That was my family—all of it since mama was killed. I loved every single one of them but there was that unsatisfied ache in my soul that wanted to see my father, to find out if there was a possibility of more family there.

  Ashley hadn’t known her father either but Mama talked about him and there were pictures taken on their wedding day. He’d worn his uniform. She wore a dress with bell sleeves and a white rose circlet in her hair. He’d lived in Jefferson his whole life just like she had.

  She didn’t ever talk about Edward and when I asked, she just said that he was just a guy she knew for a short while and who didn’t stick around. It was the truth but now I knew more.

  The shower beat some of the kinks from driving all those long hours from my body. Then I flipped a white, fluffy towel around my long hair and one around my body. I towel dried my hair, pulled it back with a barrette and slipped into my favorite faded nightshirt. That’s when the jitters hit and I got down a package of chocolate chip cookies from the top of the refrigerator. Did I mention that when I’m nervous, angry or happy, I turn to food? Well, I do and right then I was all three because I was going to see my father the next day. He didn’t even have a name until two days ago and his business was only six miles from where I was staying.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “May I help you?” The receptionist asked at the first desk in the huge building.

  “I’m here to see Mr. Edward Rollin.”

  She motioned toward the elevator doors to the right of her desk. “Well, it’s about time. You’re at least five minutes late. The mortgage firm is on the third floor, first door on the right. He’s already called down here three times.”

  “What?” Had Ashley called him that morning and told him she was arriving? If so she had she’d better kneel down and pray until calluses formed on her knee caps or until she got everything put to rights with St. Peter, because she was on her way for a very personal and up-front visit with the man. I didn’t want him to know who I was at first—maybe not ever. My mission was to do nothing but meet the man who’d fathered me.

  “Just get on up there before he makes everyone in the building walk on egg shells all day. Don’t stand there gawking at me, girl,” the receptionist said bluntly.

  I followed directions and stepped off the elevator into a flurry of business on the third floor and found the door with his brass plate on the front. So evidently, the first question was answered. He wasn’t pushing up daisies in a local cemetery. He was still alive, kicking and working in the Florida panhandle.

  I opened the door to an empty outer office, peeked in hesitantly, and a door slung open at the far end of the room. “It’s about time.” He raised his voice. “Your firm knows I expect punctuality. You should have been here five minutes ago. Grab that laptop,” he pointed to the desk, “and let’s get going. You’re not the same girl they usually send. She sick or something?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean, sir,” I answered.

  “Just get the laptop. We’ve got to be there on time.” He carried a heavy brief case. “Hurry up. What’s your name, anyway?”

  “Jessica.”

  I shouldn’t have, but I picked up the laptop computer and carried it along with my bright red tote bag holding copies of all the letters that I’d found in my mother’s memory box.

  “Jessica what?” He asked as he rushed down the hallway. “We’re closing on a big corporate loan today. I’ll need you to set up my lap top for me, get coffee or whatever else the clients want and do whatever I say. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, sir.” I nodded.

  “My regular legal secretary had an emergency appendectomy last night. She’s out of commission for a couple of weeks. You’ve done this kind of thing before, haven’t you?” He opened the door into the conference room and stood to one side. At least he was a gentleman.

  “Couple of times, sir.” I’d grown up in real estate so I understood loans.

  He motioned for me to put the lap top on the table at the head of the table. When I finished that, I checked out the beverage bar where someone had already set up doughnuts and finger foods. There was a crystal pitcher of tea and a pot full of coffee on one end with white plates and matching cups on the other.

  My chest was tight with anxiety. There I was sitting beside the man who’d swept my mother off her feet, had a brief but intense fling with her, and then dropped her for his old girlfriend before he knew Mama was carrying his child. His brown eyes and thick blond hair, plus his height and face shape left no doubt what DNA pool I’d taken a bath in before I was even born. All he had to do was look at me and then look at himself in the mirror and he’d know that he couldn’t deny me. But evidently he couldn’t see past the end of his nose that morning.

  A group of six men and two women filed into the room, stopped by the refreshment table to load up saucers and then proceeded on to the table. I played glorified waitress, going from one to the other, taking their orders for something to drink. I was glad that I’d at least dressed in a dress that morning and put on a pair of shoes instead of wearing jeans and flip flops.

  Edward pulled a sheaf of papers from his brief case and tightened his mouth into a firm line. I’d done that same thing many times when James was bossing me around. So I’d gotten his height, hair and eyes, and some of his mannerisms but he didn’t even recognize me.

  It was close to noon before they’d covered every single fine point in the contract. The buying firm’s lawyers asked all kinds of things before they finally declared everything ready to sign. The figures were more than I’d ever dealt with but the process was pretty much the same—make sure everything was up to code, passed inspections and then sign right here to close the deal.

  “You were pretty good in there,” Edward said when we were back in his office. He cocked his head to one side and squinted as if he saw something in me but before he could say anything he shook his head slowly from side to side.

  “I’ve worked in real estate a few times,” I said. “It wasn’t my first rodeo.”

  “Well, I hope the agency sends you every day,” he smiled. “I’ve got a date with my wife and daughter so I’ll be out an extra half hour. I’ll meet you in the office at one-thirty.”

  “I’ll see you then,” I nodded.

  Maybe I’d work a few days for him before I dropped the bombshell. Or perhaps I’d stick around the whole two weeks that I planned to be in town. Mama always said the best way to get to know someone was to work beside them.

  I had lunch right around the block from the building but I was in the habit of eating on the run so I was done in thirty minutes. With time on my hands, I wandered around the area until I found a park. Sitting on a bench, and listening to the sounds of the ocean in the background, a picture flashed through my mind of that bottle in my hands as I made my wishes. The jogger from the night before walked past me and ruined my memory. Today he was dressed in dress slacks, a pale blue shirt and a red and blue paisley ti
e. He didn’t even glance my way or notice that I’d tucked my feet under the bench to keep from tripping him again.

  It was one fifteen when I went back to the office and I still wasn’t sure if I should come clean or keep showing up for work every day. On one hand, I really wanted to stick around. On the other, Mama’s voice in my head kept telling me to be honest.

  “Hey,” the receptionist at the front desk called out when I started for the elevator. “The agency got mixed up and sent another girl over this morning. Guess they forgot they told you to do the job. I sent her back. Sometimes they get so busy they don’t know who they send where. You staying for a few days, or do I need to call them?”

  “I don’t know,” I answered.

  “Well, make up your mind,” the receptionist nodded. “Good morning Mr. Rycroft.” She looked beyond my left shoulder.

  “Hello, Juanita. You look lovely today.”

  Something about that deep voice sounded familiar but he was right behind me and I didn’t want to whip around and stare. The elevator doors opened and I stepped inside with him right behind me.

  “Two or three?” he asked.

  “Three.” I answered and then realized that Mr. Sexy Voice was the man who’d ruined his MP3 player on the beach the night before. His broad shoulders slimmed to a narrow waist and he was taller than me—six feet four inches at the least because I had to look up at him.

  “New here?” he asked.

  “Just temp help,” I answered.

  His dark brows drew down into a frown. “You look familiar.”

  I shrugged. “You work in this building?”

  “Yes, I do. Are you sure we haven’t met?”

  If that was his best pick up line, he’d better get out the Flirting for Dummies book. “I heard that Edward had to call the temp agency. Whoa! You are the woman on the beach who tripped me.”

  Bravo! You don’t need the dummy book after all.

  “That’s right.” I stepped out of the elevator when it stopped and opened the door into Edward’s suite. I needed to make a decision, not get into it with Mr. Rycroft. I had a half-sister and I’d love to meet her but I had to be honest with Edward, not stick around for days on end before I told him that I was his daughter.

  “So where you from?” He pushed open the door and hiked a hip on my desk. It was mine, even only for half an hour and I didn’t owe him anything. “You have a different accent than we do around here.”

  “I’m from Jefferson, Texas.”

  “Long way from home.” He toyed with a pencil on the desk. “How’d you get to Florida and working for the temp agency?”

  “I don’t work for the temp agency.” I said honestly. “I came in here to talk to Edward Rollin this morning and he just assumed I was from that place. He demanded I pick up the lap top and follow him so I did.”

  His blue eyes assessed me like I was something he’d buy at a flea market. “Why would you do that? Why didn’t you just tell him that he made a mistake?”

  “I thought I could talk to him on the way to the conference but it didn’t work out that way.”

  “Are you from the IRS?” he asked. “Or did he forget to tip you down at the greasy spoon where he likes to eat?”

  He was even nosier than I was and that was saying a lot. The only way to get ride of him was to tell him the honest-to-God truth. “I came down here to meet my father for the first time.”

  “Honey.” He spit out the endearment like a dirty word. “Edward closes more deals in the corporate field than any other man in Florida panhandle but he’s not a lawyer or a private investigator. You need one of those to find a lost father, not a lender.”

  “Well, sweet…heart.” I deliberately drug out the words in true east Texas brogue. “He’ll sure be interested in this one—believe me.”

  “You better just pick up your things and get on out of here.” He opened the door and held it. “I’m going to tell Juanita not to let you past the front desk again.”

  I pulled the chair out from behind the desk and sat down. “I’m sitting right here until Edward returns, and that’s a fact Mr. Rycroft.”

  “Lady, I can and will call the police. You’re not staying here.” His blue eyes shot out anger like a gun firing bullets.

  “Go ahead. Call them, and I’ll just tell them I was sitting here waiting for my father to return when you went ballistic and ordered me out.” I said in my best saccharine sweet tone.

  “You’re not Edward’s daughter.” He glared at me, his eyes starting at my hair and traveling down as far as he could go with me sitting behind the desk.

  “It would make for some really interesting headlines if you call the cops. Edward Rollin’s long lost illegitimate daughter is carried out of his office, screaming and yelling, causing a public scandal.” I raised an eyebrow in defiance.

  “So what proof you got?” He growled.

  “Enough but this isn’t a bit of your business, Mr. Rycroft.” I pinched my nose, trying to get rid of the raging headache that he’d caused with all his questions.

  “Prove it,” he demanded.

  My temper shot to the top of my already aching head. I pushed back the chair, rounded the end of the desk and didn’t stop until my nose was just inches from his. “I don’t have to prove jack squat to you. Go away. I want to talk to him in private.”

  “I’m not going anywhere. You’re some kind of con artist and I won’t leave you in an office full of important documents and files.” He didn’t back down. “And you better have some good, hard facts or Edward won’t bat an eye at sending your cute little ass to jail.”

  He could stand there, squared off with me for an hour and a half if he wanted to do so, but I wasn’t getting out the letters for anyone but Edward Rollin. Suddenly, I wished I would have listened to Ashley and stayed home. Who would have ever thought I’d run into a brick wall like this, just trying to talk to the man who’d fathered me?

  “Prove it or get out.” He pointed at the door. “It’s your last chance.”

  I sat back down at the desk, took a finger nail file from my purse and began to work on my nails. It was a calming gesture and it always worked. Ashley and I both learned it from our mother. When any one of us got out a finger nail file, it meant that all discussions were finished and that they wouldn’t be open again until the file was put away.

  “I mean it, Miss . . . . miss . . . . miss . . .” he started.

  “Miss Jessica Susanne Graham,” she said softly. “My friends call me Jessie. You may call me Miss Graham.”

  “Edward is my dear friend. I won’t have you destroy his life with your false accusations,” he said.

  “I don’t give a damn what you will or will not have. So why don’t you go take care of what is your business and leave me alone?”

  “I told you, I’m not leaving. This is an important business that we run here.”

  I shook my finger nail file at him. “And what do you think I am? A homeless beach bum?”

  He had to lean backwards to get away from the sharp end of my file.

  “What’s going on in here?” Edward opened the door before either of us could say another word.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Rocky?” Edward folded his arms over his chest and shifted his gaze back and forth between us.

  “This foolish woman has come in here with a lot of nasty accusations.” Rocky Rycroft—now wasn’t that just a sexy, cute name—nodded toward me with a look meant to fry me into nothing but a greasy spot on the carpet.

  “She is just a secretary from the agency. Jessica, this is my junior partner, Rockwell Rycroft. We call him Rocky, and I think maybe you’ve both gotten off on the wrong foot,” Edward chuckled.

  “I would like to talk to you in private.” I picked up my tote bag and set it on the desk. “Please.” I added as an after thought.

  “Rocky can stay,” Edward said.

  “Have it your way,” I told him.

  “Now what are you two fighting about?”
Edward sat down in one of the two burgundy leather chairs facing my desk.

  “She says she’s . . .” Rocky started to blurt it out.

  “You be quiet.” I whispered.

  I must’ve looked pretty mean because he clamped his mouth shut like he was afraid I’d cast a spell upon him, turning him into a slimy green tree frog if he didn’t obey.

  Then I asked Edward. “Do you remember Linda Graham from Jefferson, Texas?”

  “Yes, I do,” he nodded. “She handled a real estate deal for me a long, long time ago.”

  “She handled more than that, Mr. Rollin, and we both know it.” I sure didn’t want to have this discussion in front of Rocky Rycroft but there didn’t seem to be anyway around it or any way to put it gently so I spit it out. “I’m her daughter.”

  Edward smiled brightly. “Ashley. Who would have ever thought you would be tall and blonde. You were just a little, bitty dark haired girl. I figured you’d turn out to be a petite brunette. Whatever are you doing down in this part of the country. And how is your mother?”

  “Ashley did turn out to be a petite brunette. But I’m not her. I’m Jessica, her younger daughter.” I waited for the realization to hit, but it didn’t.

  “Oh, so Linda remarried. Well, what can I do for you Jessica?” Edward said. “And how did you come to work for a temp agency here in Florida?”

  “Mother never remarried.” Were all men this stupid? He didn’t even feel an emotional pull when his own flesh and blood was in the room with him.

  “Mr. Rollin.” The pent up air that I didn’t even realize I was holding in my lungs came out in a whoosh. “My mother died in a car wreck about a month ago. When Ashley and I were going through her things a couple of days ago, we found a key in her desk. It opened an old keep sake box in her room. Inside that box we found the love letters from her husband who died in the war—Ashley’s father. We also found another set of love letters, tied up with a faded red ribbon—from you. I have copies of them, as well as the letters she wrote to you which you returned.” I pulled a thick manila envelope from my tote bag and handed them to him.