Yvonne Lindsay - Seduced By The Single Dad

Annabelle chose a cookie, thanked Chloe sweetly—and asked if she knew how to make a fairy princess dress. “I want one, Chloe. Will you please make me one?”

Before Chloe could reply that she absolutely could and would, Quinn said, “Anniefannie, you are pushing it.”

“Daddy!” The little girl tipped her cute nose high in a perfect imitation of disdain. “I’m not a fannie.”

“But will you stop pushing it?”

Annabelle dimpled adorably. “But Chloe can make a room . I know she can make me a fairy princess dress.” She turned pleading eyes on Chloe, who longed only to give her whatever she wanted. “Pleeeaaase, Chloe.”

Manny spoke up then. He said one word. “Annabelle.” After which he pushed back his chair and held out his hand.

Annabelle’s lower lip started quivering. “Oh, no. Not the car . I don’t want to sit in the car . Pleeaaassse, Manny.”

Manny let out a heavy sigh. “Are you gonna stop pestering Chloe and sit quietly at the table while we finish our business here?”

Annabelle announced loudly, “Yes, I am!”

Manny mimed locking his lips with a key.

Annabelle straightened her small shoulders and folded her hands on the table, all the while pressing her lips together and pointedly glancing from one adult to the next.

Finally, Manny nodded. “All right. We’ll give it a try.”

Annabelle nodded wildly but kept her little mouth tightly shut.

“Eat your cookie,” Quinn said in his gentlest voice.

Annabelle made short work of the treat. And then Manny gave her a cup of crayons and some paper. She was a perfect little angel, happily coloring away as the grown-ups finished their meeting.

That afternoon, Chloe visited Bravo Construction, which consisted of three trailers and a warehouse on the southwest edge of town. She met with Nell Bravo, who was in her late twenties and stunningly beautiful, with long auburn hair and a vivid half-sleeve tattoo down her shapely left arm. The baby of the Bravo family, Nell had always been outspoken and tough-minded. Everyone knew you didn’t mess with Nell.

Chloe had the plans with her for Quinn’s redesign. She spent two hours in Nell’s office trailer, going over everything in detail, coming to agreement on the budget and the schedule.

Nell would personally run the job. Tomorrow, Chloe would get busy ordering cabinets and appliances, counters and flooring. Nell would put in for the permits they would need. Demo would begin first thing next Monday morning. If all went as planned—which it rarely did—the project would take nine to ten weeks.

At four o’clock, when they had everything pretty well hammered out, Chloe got up to leave.

And Nell hoisted her heavy black biker boots up onto her battered desk. “Before you head out, we need to talk. Hey, Ruby?”

The plump, motherly looking clerk at the desk near the door glanced around. “What do you need?”

“Take fifteen?”

“Sure.” Ruby got up from her laptop and left the trailer.

Chloe had a sinking feeling in her stomach.

Nell proved the feeling right as soon as the door closed behind the clerk. “So, I hear you’ve had a thing for Quinn ever since high school. Is that true?”

Chloe dropped back into her chair. “Monique Hightower’s been talking.”

“Did you think she wouldn’t?”

Chloe suppressed a sigh. “No. I knew she would.” It had all seemed so amusing Friday night. But looking in Nell’s narrowed eyes right now, she didn’t think it was funny at all.

Quinn’s sister demanded, “Answer my first question.”

Chloe drew herself up. “Yeah. I had certain...fantasies about Quinn way back when. Is that somehow a crime?”

“He’s not just a piece of tasty meat. He’s a good man.”

Tasty meat? Chloe took care to keep her voice even. “I know he’s a good man, Nell.”

“You slumming?”

Chloe didn’t let her gaze waver. “I absolutely am not—and why would you think that? Quinn’s a brilliant man with a whole lot going for him. The word slumming just doesn’t apply.”

“Oh, come on, Chloe. Your mother was practically best friends with my father’s first wife. No way Linda Winchester’s going to approve of you seeing one of the bastard Bravos—especially not the ‘stupid’ one who barely managed to finish high school.”

Chloe felt the angry color flooding upward on her cheeks. When would people stop assuming that her mother made her choices for her? “Nell.” She made a show of clucking her tongue. “Where do I even start with you? Not fair. Not to Quinn. And not to me. He’s far from stupid and he’s done just fine for himself. We both know that. As for me, yes, it’s true. I used to let my mother have way too much influence over me. But that was then. Right this minute, I’m thirty-one, divorced, fully self-supporting and on my own. My mother has zero say about whom I go out with.”

Nell’s lush mouth twisted. “Does your mother know that?”

Busted. “I’ll say it again. I decide whom I spend time with.”

Nell dropped her heavy boots to the floor, braced both elbows on the desk and folded her hands between them. “Am I pissing you off, Chloe?”

The perennial good girl in Chloe pushed for denial, for smoothing things over after neatly sweeping them under the carpet. But no. The truth was better. “Yes, Nell. You are pissing me off.”

“Good.” Nell tipped her head to the side. The overhead fluorescents made her fabulous hair shimmer like a red waterfall. “Don’t you hurt him, or you’ll be answering to me.”

Chloe sat tall. “I don’t know for sure what’s going to happen. But Quinn’s an amazing man who means a lot to me. The last thing I would ever want to do is hurt him.”

Nell’s swivel chair squeaked as she flopped back in it and folded her arms across her spectacular breasts. She stared at Chloe, unblinking, for a grim count of ten. Then: “Look. I like your plans for the house. You know your job. I like the way you carry yourself. And I hardly knew you, back in the day. You were four years ahead of me in school. I only knew your reputation as the perfect one, the one headed for a good marriage to a rich husband, two-point-two children, a soccer-mom-and-country-club life—and some chichi career that you could fit in between social engagements.”

“Something like interior design, you mean?”

“Hey. If the glass slipper fits...”

“As it turned out, it didn’t. Not by a long shot. And that was then, Nell. I’m not that girl anymore.”

Another long, measuring stare from Nell. Finally, she shrugged. “You know, I think I believe you.” She got up and held down her hand. Chloe did want peace with Quinn’s sister—with all of his family. After a moment’s hesitation, she took Nell’s offered hand and rose. Nell said, “Looking forward to working with you.”

“I’m sure it will be interesting.”

“Right. And listen. When you tell Quinn about this little talk we had—”

Chloe didn’t even let her finish. “Why would I tell him? The way I see it, what just happened is between you and me.”

Nell arched an auburn eyebrow. “Fair enough.” And then she grumbled, “I’m really starting to like you. How ’bout that?”

“I’m glad. I’m going to do my best not to disappoint you—though you did go a little overboard just now.”

Always a fighter, Nell stuck out her chin. “You think so?”

“Yes, I do. Then again, it’s nice to know how much you love your brother and that you have his back.”

* * *

That evening, Chloe spent a pleasant hour with a sketch pad, drawing a series of small figures that looked a lot like Annabelle. The figures all wore different versions of a magical, multilayered, brightly colored fairy princess costume, complete with wings—because what’s a fairy princess costume unless there are wings?