Chapter 9
He decided to drop by the bookstore. She might not be there, but he had to take the chance. He had left things hanging after the argument and did not like anger festering between them.
They had a daughter to think about, and they would damn well put aside their grievances and concentrate on that beautiful little girl.
He had told her he would wage war, but he did not mean it.
All he wanted was to be with his daughter and if he was feeling conflicted about the mother, well, he would deal with it. But they were going to have it out.
She had not called him about the holidays, and he was not going to leave until they firmed things up.
He had taken his lunch break and told the very efficient Lilieth that he would be away for an hour. "Just cancel my noon appointment. I have something that needs taking care of."
The woman, bless her professional heart had simply nodded and said she would deal with it.
He drove into the almost overflowing parking lot and simply sat behind the wheel, absorbing the atmosphere.
He had admired the setting the first time he came here.
The gentle swell of land, the benches tucked beneath trees, tables strewn over green landscape, the fountain sprouting water as clean and as clear as crystal.
It was something similar he wanted for the publishing house. A place that looked more like a home away from home instead of a business. He wanted that comfortable and cozy ambiance.
Taking a deep breath, he alighted the vehicle, stepping out into the brisk wind. Thanksgiving was tomorrow and people were doing their last minute shopping.
Pushing the double glass doors open, he stood in the center of the room and watched as people milled around the shelves. A toddler was plopped on the floor, in a fit of tantrum, the panicked and clearly embarrassed mother, trying to soothe things over.
An elderly couple, walking hand in hand, stopped at the historical section to browse. The sounds of laughter mingled with conversation vied with the classical music playing over the hidden speakers.
Someone came over, the same blonde who had approached him when he came here before.
She greeted him with a warm, practiced smile, her eyes flickering with recognition. "Welcome back," she said, her voice soft but confident, "Is there anything I can help you find today?"
He hesitated for a moment, glancing around as if searching for an answer among the bookshelves, before finally telling her he was looking for Ms. Abigail Blake.
The woman's eyes sharpened, but she nodded and pointed him to the stairs that led to the third floor.
He left the noise and quiet confusion of the first and second floors and stepped into the quiet. A bank of offices greeted him, with name plaques to identify who was who.
The door was open, allowing him to step into an outer office where a woman was bent over a computer, a frown on her brow.
He was about to get her attention when she looked up. He saw when her brow cleared, replaced by instant recognition.
Gloria was single and had been most of her life and she loved the single life. Men as far as she was concerned were useful until they were not. But seeing this one standing inside her office, gave her sturdy, no nonsense heart more than a little jolt.
"I'm sorry if I disturbed you." His voice was as beautiful as his face, if that was at all possible. No wonder her boss had fallen for him.
"No problem." Shoving back from her desk, she gestured to a chair. "You're Zoe's daddy."
To her surprised delight, he looked so pleased, she felt her heart melting even more.
"I'm afraid I don't have an appointment. I was just in the neighborhood and wanted to speak to Abigail, er, Ms. Blake."
She sent him an easy smile. "Let's see if she's available."
"Thank you."
With a nod, she bustled towards the open door and closed it behind her.
Abby looked up from the files she was perusing. "I think we should introduce the gingerbread contest and incorporate it with..." What is it? Is it Zoe?"
"No." Gloria shook her head. "It's Zoe's daddy."
Abby's expression turned to stone. "I have no time to talk to him. If he's on the phone, tell him I'm busy."
"He's here."
Her eyes widened and then flashed fire. "Get rid of him."
"I will most certainly not be doing that. The man is already here, stop being such a damn coward and talk to him."
"You have no right..."
"This is about Zoe. It's time you get behind whatever he did to you and start thinking about your daughter." She headed for the door. "And I don't need you putting me in the middle." She marched out before Abby could respond.
Before she could recover her composure, he came right in.
"Your assistant told me to come right in." He immediately gauged her mood and mentally sighed. He was in for another battle.
"You should have called." She stayed behind her desk, her expression stormy.
"When I didn't hear from you, I decided to stop by." He wandered in, admiring the large and comfortable office. The desk was a plain birch, stacked neatly with files and other paraphernalia. A soft worn maroon sofa was in one corner near the window.
A fire was crackling inside the hearth, and a large bookcase took up one entire corner of the room. Photos were strewn on her desk and a large glossy one of Zoe was over the mantle. He wandered over to look at the portrait of the laughing little girl wearing her usual pink outfit.
"How old was she here?"
She wanted to ignore the question. "Three. We were on a trip in the Bahamas."
Her heart skittered as she watched him walked over and slide his fingers over the protective glass. He had asked her for albums, and she was still hesitating to hand them over.
"She takes your breath away. I cannot believe I had a hand in making her."
He turned to look at her. "I'd prefer not to fight with you. Will I be getting her tomorrow?"
That was one of the things she had struggled with last night.
They had a tradition. The family would meet at her grandmother for the Thanksgiving meal and spend the night.
On Friday, they would sleep in late before returning home where they would walk the mall or go take in a movie.
Christmas was the same, another tradition.
"Yes." She rasped. "She wants to come to you. Pick her up in the morning. Her outfit has already been bought. Bring her back on Friday..."
"No." He shook his head. "I want her for the entire weekend. The offices will be closed on Friday and Saturday." He eased out a breath. "My family has plans..."
"You want to take over, is that it?" Her eyes blazed as she pushed away from her desk. He had noticed the boots on the area before the sofa and suspected that she had taken them off. He was right.
The sheer nylons allowed him to catch a glimpse of pearl pink painted toes as she rounded the desk. "You bastard. You think you can just come into her life and snap your fingers. I did all the heavy lifting..."
"Enough."
His voice had her stopping just in front of him. "I did not come here to fight with you damn it. I want us to be civil about this. I never knew about her and the fact is I'm here now. Accept it or not, but I'm going to be in her life."
"Go to hell." She started to turn away, when he gripped her arm and hauled her against him.
"You're still pissed about that night years ago. I get it."
"I don't care. I got over it."
He shook her slightly. "That's a damn lie and we both know it. You're pissed off at me and because of that, you're trying to make things difficult for me with regards to my daughter. So, let's get this out in the open." He hauled her over to sofa and sat, pulling her down.
"I left. Back then I was careless and irresponsible.
I wasn't into relationships. I took what was offered and when I was finished, I left.
You did something to me that night." He eased out a breath.
"You touched something deep inside me, that scared the hell out of me.
I ran." His grip tightened when she started to pull away.
"I ran and never looked back." His fingers bit through the thin silk of her sweater. "You've haunted me for years and I could not bloody well get you off my mind."
"Please let go of me." She refused to let herself believe a word coming from him. "Like I said before, I got over it."
"Prove it." He taunted.
"I don't have to prove anything to you. Now, if you'll excuse me..." She did not get to finish. He moved with such quick precision that she was already on his lap before she could counter the move.
"I'm afraid I cannot take your word for it."
Shock held her immobile for a minute. He took that minute and used it to his advantage. Clamping a hand around her neck, he held her still and closed his mouth over hers.
Panic came first but did not last. She tried to press her lips together to deny him access, but he had anticipated her move and was prepared for it. His tongue slid over her tightly closed lips, persuasive, probing.
Instead of demanding, he was pleading. When that did not work, he used his teeth to nibble, pulling the flesh into his mouth. She weakened. Need washed through her like a flood and had her sagging against him. Her hands had come up in defense to try and push him away, were now curling into fists.
Her lips parted, but instead of swooping in, he teased and titillated, tongue touching and then retreating, until she was maddened.
It wasn't a fluke. That was what ran through his mind. Her scent surrounded him, tantalized him until he was as hard as steel. His heart was pounding, drowning out everything else.
He wanted her, craved her more than he thought was possible. She was sweet and wildly evocative. Five years ago, her innocence had staggered him. Now, it was simply something he wanted more than anything else. More than his next breath.