Susan Mallery: Full-Time Father

“There were some misunderstandings,” he said at last. “I take full responsibility.”

Her gaze met his. “I see,” she said. Those two words carried a powerful message. He could tell by the look on her face that Erin Ridgeway knew the details of that summer. She knew what he’d done to her sister.

He resisted the urge to spring to his feet and pace the terrace. Okay, he’d been a bastard, but he hadn’t done anything Stacey hadn’t wanted. God knows she’d been throwing herself at him for weeks before he’d finally given in. She’d been over twenty-one. An adult.

Sell it somewhere else, Hamilton, a voice in his head muttered. She had been twenty-two and nowhere near grown up enough to handle you. He swore silently at himself and at the voice for speaking the truth.

Before he could think of something to say, Kiki swept onto the terrace. She walked over and set an old polished silver tray on the center of the table. There were two mugs, a coffee carafe, sugar, cream and a plate of brownies she’d made that morning.

“The coffee’s fresh,” Kiki said. “I ground the beans myself.”

Erin glanced up and gave her a polite smile. “Thank you very much.”

Kiki nodded. “No trouble. Mr. Hamilton rarely has visitors. I enjoy having people in the house.” His housekeeper looked at her and shook her head. “You sure look exactly like your sister.” She poured coffee and set a mug in front of each of them. “She was a lovely young woman. Very bright and funny. She brought a lot of life into this old house.”

Erin’s eyes widened. She’d reached toward her cup, then paused, her hand frozen in midmotion. “Stacey lived here?”

“All the interns did,” Kiki said. “There are plenty of bedrooms. Town is too far away for them.” She gave an exaggerated shrug. “Those college students always wanted to be working on the computer programs. Morning, noon and night. The world would have ended if they’d had to spend time actually driving back and forth. I would guess half of them never ever noticed the view from their bedrooms.” She motioned to the twinkling blue of the Pacific just beyond the terrace. “Mr. Hamilton never notices, either. All he does is work.”

She gave him a look that told him she hadn’t forgiven him for being so tardy to dinner the previous night that he’d not only ruined her roast, but had also made her late for her date.

“I made the brownies myself,” she said, pointing at the plate. “And not from a mix. Eat up.” She glanced at him and raised her eyebrows. “You, too, Mr. Hamilton.”

With that she walked across the terrace to the far door and entered the small hallway that led to the kitchen.

Parker picked up the plate and offered it to Erin. “Please try one. Kiki is an excellent cook and she gets very upset if she isn’t appreciated.”

Erin took one of the brownies and set it on a napkin. But she didn’t taste the treat. Instead she stared at him. “I hadn’t realized my sister lived here.”

Parker had to clear his throat before speaking. “Yes, well, there were about six students in the house at the time. She was very well chaperoned.” He snapped his mouth shut. Not well enough, he reminded himself, fighting an unfamiliar heated sensation. At first he couldn’t figure out what it was, then he realized he was embarrassed. “At the time, it worked out best for everyone. Kiki was right. The interns did work constantly. I never required all those hours, but they would get caught up in their projects. I don’t know if you’re familiar at all with computer programming, but it can get very intense.”

She reached for the cream and poured a little in her coffee. She stirred the mixture slowly. “That’s what Stacey used to tell me.”

He leaned back in his chair. “Did Stacey send you here, Ms. Ridgeway?”

Her gaze met his. Her eyes widened and her mouth parted in shock. The color drained from her face. “You don’t know.” Her lips pulled into a straight line. “Of course you don’t. How could you?”

Uneasiness settled over him. “Know what?”

“My sister is dead. She died four years ago.”

This time Parker gave in to the impulse and rose to his feet. He crossed the terrace to the waist-high stone wall that ran around the perimeter of the open area and stared out at the sea.

Stacey Ridgeway was dead. He probed his emotions and encountered compassion for her family, regret-always regret-for what he’d done and remorse because he wouldn’t have the chance to explain or apologize. No sadness or longing. He’d barely known her. If her twin sister hadn’t come calling, he would never have thought of her again.

“I’m sorry,” he said, turning toward Erin and leaning on the stone wall. “It must have been very difficult for you and your family.”

Erin nodded. “It was hard on me. Stacey was the only close relative I had.”

Wariness joined the other emotions. Wariness and a faint hint of cynicism. He was a wealthy man. He’d sold his software company a few years back for several million dollars. He continued to develop programs that earned him an embarrassingly high income. Erin Ridgeway wouldn’t be the first woman to come looking for a free ride.

“While I appreciate the tragedy of the situation, I’m not sure what it has to do with me,” he said, wondering how much this was going to cost him. Even if the woman in front of him never got a dime, lawyer fees were expensive.

Erin tried to take a sip of coffee, but her hands were shaking so badly, she could barely hold the mug. She set it down. “I know what you’re thinking,” she said, not meeting his gaze.

Somehow, he doubted that.

“It’s been so long,” she continued. “Why am I here now? The truth is, I didn’t know who you were until a few weeks ago. Stacey never told me your name. Before she died she said it was her fault and it wasn’t fair to bother you with the responsibility. I didn’t agree with her. But until I knew your name, I had no choice but to stay silent.” She looked at him then, her hazel eyes dark with pain.

“I was angry,” she told him. “At the mysterious man who’d ruined her life. At her for dying. At Christie for messing up my plans.”

“Who’s Christie?” he asked, not sure he understood what Erin was talking about or whether he believed her display of emotions. Were they genuine or was she a good actress?

She reached down and collected her small purse. After opening it, she pulled out a photograph. “My sister never told me anything, Mr. Hamiliton. Nothing about you or what had happened here. We were attending different colleges. I saw her for a few days that last summer when she came home from her internship here, but that was all. We didn’t spend Christmas break together. I realized later that she was avoiding me. She didn’t want me to know. I didn’t have a clue until the hospital called to say there were complications.”

His stomach clenched tight like a fist. Parker stared at her. Foreboding surrounded him and chilled the air. “What complications?”

Erin stood up and started toward him. When she was less than two feet away, she handed him the small picture. He took it without looking at it. He wanted to watch her face as she told him her story.

“What complications?” he repeated.

“My sister died of complications in childbirth. She was pregnant when she left here. The baby…Christie…is your daughter.”

A daughter? A child? His child?

Parker stared at her, hearing the words, absorbing their meaning, but not sure if they had any connection to him. A child. He had a child?

His gaze never left hers. Hazel eyes widened slightly. He watched the emotions race across her face. Confusion, compassion, fear. Why was she afraid? He wondered what she was seeing on his face. Most likely shock. That’s what he felt. Stunned shock, as if he’d plunged into an icy river and couldn’t catch his breath.