Caroline Cross - The Paternity Factor

Shane tensed. Not only didn’t he have the first idea what she was referring to, but for a second there, as he watched her warm, spontaneous interaction with Chloe, he’d been suddenly, starkly reminded of just what it was he’d lost.

Irritated—just what the hell was wrong with him?—he paced over to the window, struggling to get a grip on himself.

“Shane? Is everything okay?”

The quiet question jerked him around. “Yeah, of course,” he said brusquely. “I was just thinking there are some things we need to discuss.”

“Okay.” Settling deeper into the sofa, she crossed one long, slim leg over the other and waited.

He pushed away the last remnant of unwanted emotion and forced himself to concentrate. “First, what days do you want off?”

She looked surprised. “Gosh, I don’t know. I just got here. Can’t we play it by ear?”

He shook his head. “No. I need to know so I can make other arrangements.”

She bit her lip thoughtfully. “Well... Why don’t you plan on me taking care of Chloe at least through next weekend to start with, then? That way you don’t have to worry about making other plans, and I’ll have some time to see how things go. We can discuss it again after I have a better idea of what’s involved.”

Shane didn’t like it, but he could see her point. “All right.”

“Good.” She smiled. “What else?”

“Your salary. I’m not sure what you have in mind, but I thought maybe...twenty-five hundred a month?”

Her eyes widened. “You’re kidding.”

“Make it three thousand, then.”

She made a low sound of protest and shook her head. “Shane—no.”

“No what?”

“Just...no. I appreciate the offer, but my teaching job pays me more than adequately during the summer. Besides, you’re doing me a favor, remember? Thanks to you, I’ve got a few months to look for a place to live.”

He stared at her earnest face, then realized he should have expected this. Jessy always had been a quixotic, kindhearted kid. She was the sort of person who cried over old movies, worried about stray puppies, championed the oppressed and defended the downtrodden. It was just like her to selflessly donate her time to an old family friend.

Except that he didn’t want her help—much less these little ripples of feeling she kept causing in him.

Yeah? Well, you’re not doing this for you, remember? You’re doing it for Chloe, so she can have some of the emotional security you’re incapable of giving her.

That didn’t mean he had to be here, however.

The realization brought him up short. He thought about it for a handful of seconds, then came to a sudden decision. “All right,” he said abruptly. “If that’s the way you feel.” Why argue about money? He’d simply decide on a sum and give it to her later. No doubt she’d be more inclined to take it once the reality of the situation caught up with her good intentions.

Besides, he was now anxious to move on to other things. “Look. Why don’t I show you where the phone list and the emergency kit are, then you can see your room and the rest of the house. That way I can help you get your car unloaded before I have to go.”

Jessy’s surprise was obvious. “You’re leaving?”

“Yeah. I need to go into the office for a few hours.”

“Oh.” She gave him an indecipherable look, then slowly nodded. “I see. All right.” She stood and held out her arms to Chloe. “Come on, cupcake. You can keep us company while your daddy shows me around, okay?”

The toddler hesitated, clutching her doll to her chest. “Baby, too?”

Jessy nodded. “Baby, too.”

Chloe still didn’t move. Then, apparently suffering a belated attack of shyness, she scooted off the couch, scampered over to Shane and pressed herself against his legs. “Want Dada,” she mumbled.

“Chlo—” Shane remonstrated.

The little girl buried her face against his knees, refusing to look at either adult.

Shane stared down at her small blond head. Part of him wanted to lift her up and hold her tight, to breathe in her sweet baby scent and assure her that Daddy was there and everything was going to be all right.

And part of him wanted to step away.

“It’s all right,” Jessy said, misunderstanding. “Really.”

But it wasn’t. It was never going to be all right again, he thought savagely, clenching his jaw against a jab of self-disgust. Totally out of patience with himself, he reached down and swung Chloe up, settling her securely in the crook of one arm. “It’s okay, peanut,” he murmured. Raising his voice, he looked over at Jessy and said coolly, “I guess we’re ready.”

She nodded, but the questioning look he was already starting to hate was back in her eyes. “Okay.”

He glanced away. He was just tired, he told himself. He’d go to the office for a few hours, come home and get some sleep and tomorrow, or the next day, when the strangeness of the situation had worn off, he’d have himself back under control.

Not that it mattered. Because the truth was, he’d gladly give up his control, this house, even TopLine itself, if he could only go back to the time before he’d learned Chloe wasn’t his daughter.

Two

“Elvis,” Jessy murmured as she stood at the front window and watched Shane’s car pull out of the driveway, “has left the building.” She glanced at her wristwatch, struggling against a sense of disbelief.

It was a little after five o’clock, not quite three hours since she’d arrived.

She asked herself what she’d expected. That Shane would stick around, maybe keep an eye on Chloe while she unpacked? That they’d sit down to some sort of dinner and talk—about his schedule, about who was going to tackle which housekeeping tasks, about Chloe’s wants, needs, likes and dislikes, fears and foibles?

Or, better yet, that he’d suddenly break down and confess he was glad she was there?

Well... Yeah.

The admission prompted a slight, self-deprecating smile. Get a grip, Jessica. You volunteered to do this, remember? It certainly wasn’t Shane’s idea. And if his behavior is any indication, he isn’t exactly overcome with joy at having you join his household.

Of course, now that she’d seen the house in question, she could understand his reticence.

She turned, giving a theatrical shiver as she surveyed the living and dining rooms. Like the rest of the interior, they were done predominantly in white—carpeting, walls, woodwork and blinds. Also like the rest of the interior, they had high ceilings and windows that were strategically located to maximize the various views of the surrounding woods and lake.

Jessy could see that the place had potential. Yet all that white, plus the absolute lack of such personal objects as artwork, keepsakes or photographs—not to mention such fundamentals as furniture—made it about as cozy as a glacier. She supposed she was biased, accustomed as she was to the clutter, color and organized chaos of her classroom, but to her mind it was definitely not the sort of warm, homey place best suited to raising a child.

But then, from what she could tell, Shane wasn’t exactly trying to get himself voted Father of the Year, she reminded herself as she padded across the living room and stepped into the hall.

Jessy shook her head and admitted she didn’t understand it. Not from Shane, who’d been the rock her own childhood had been built on.

After her mother had walked out on them, she, Bailey and their dad had relocated from Denver to Churchill, which at the time had been just another small town outside of Seattle. For Jessy, the move had meant the loss of everything dear and familiar: her home, school and friends, her grandparents and her cousins. Even worse, her father had been extremely bitter about the desertion. He’d shut everyone out and buried himself in his new job, too caught up in his own feelings to pay much attention to anyone else’s.