Susan Mallery - Full-Time Father

“Stacey whispered that she’d seen the baby for a minute and named her Christie. She-” Erin swallowed hard and looked away. “She said she was sorry for doing this to me, but there was no one else. I asked her to tell me about the father. She wouldn’t say anything except it would be wrong to bother him. You, I mean. Then she died.”

Parker’s gut clenched as the guilt washed over him like an acid bath. It burned him clear down to his soul. He’d known he was responsible for Robin’s death and now he’d killed Stacey, too. How much longer would this go on? Who else would he inadvertently destroy?

“It’s not your fault,” Erin said.

He stared at her.

“It’s not,” she repeated. “Stacey didn’t blame you, and you mustn’t blame yourself. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, it just happened.”

“How can you be so sure?” he asked, standing up and walking to the edge of the terrace. “You weren’t here that summer. You don’t know what happened between us.”

“I know it wasn’t your fault,” she said a third time.

“Yeah, right.” If only that were true. If only the ghosts of the dead would leave him be. He clutched the edge of the balcony.

She followed him, then reached into her trouser pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. “Stacey wrote this to you, but she never got a chance to mail it. I think she’d want you to have it now.”

He stared at the paper a long time before he finally took it and turned it over in his hands. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what she’d written, but he didn’t think he had a choice in the matter.

When he’d unfolded the note, he quickly scanned the contents. In his mind he heard her voice speaking the words and realized she sounded different than Erin. Stacey’s voice was higher and faster. More intense, like the woman herself.

She wrote that she was sorry for what she did to him. He wished he could tell her he was sorry, too. For the harsh words he’d hurled at her that morning. If he could he would tell her that he’d been angry with himself, not with her. But it had been easier to direct his rage at someone else.

I regret to tell you that I’m pregnant. He swore silently. That was his fault, too. Not just the baby, but the regret.

He started to hand the letter back to Erin, but she shook her head. “You keep it.”

“For what it’s worth,” he said. “I didn’t mean to be such a bastard.”

“Don’t blame yourself, Parker. We used to laugh together at the odd personality quirk that made her gifted with computers and so completely illogical in her personal life. We lost our parents when we were young and we were shuttled between different relatives. We never had a real home, but we used to dream about one. Oddly enough, your house is pretty close to what we’d imagined. Stacey was intrigued from the moment she arrived.”

“How do you know?”

“Her diary. After she died, I was so busy with Christie I asked one of our friends to pack up Stacey’s things. It wasn’t until a few months ago when I was packing to move that I finally went through the boxes. I found her diary and your name.”

What else had she said aside from his name? He wanted to know but didn’t think he had the right to ask.

The sun had finally set and the sky was that murky color of twilight blue. The first stars glinted in the heavens. Surf pounded against the shore in an age-old rhythm.

“She saw you as the dark prince of her fantasies,” Erin said. “Please don’t be angry with her.”

“Stacey was the innocent in all this, Erin. The only person I’m angry with is myself.” Dark prince. Hell, he didn’t belong in anyone’s fantasy.

“Stop blaming yourself.”

“There’s no one else. Did Stacey ever stop to consider how dangerous a dark prince could be? After all he’s first cousin to the devil.”

“Stacey would have liked that.”

Then Stacey was a fool. But he didn’t say that aloud. Stacey had been foolish and young and inexperienced. He’d been in too much pain to notice. Surviving had taken everything he’d had. Otherwise he could have taken care of the situation before it became a problem.

Erin touched his arm. “Don’t you see? This isn’t about you, it’s about her. She expected something very specific from you. She would have taken your words and twisted them around until they had the meaning she wanted.”

He looked at her. The few lights from the house didn’t reach this far on the terrace and they were both in shadow. He couldn’t see her clearly, but he could feel her heat and inhale the floral scent of her perfume. Her hand was warm and sure on his forearm.

“Why are you defending me?” he asked. “You don’t even know me. You weren’t here. You don’t know what happened.”

“I’ve read her diary. I know what she wanted, and I know my sister. I’m not absolving you of blame. Of course some of this is your fault. It takes two to-” She paused and her hand fell to her side. “I think it’s time to put the past behind you. You feel badly for what you did, but Stacey wanted a relationship with you and she wasn’t going to let anything stand in the way. Not even reality.”

He wanted to believe her. Maybe one day he would. Just not tonight.

“If you don’t mind, I’m going to go up to my office. Help yourself to the television in the study or the books,” he said.

“I’ll be fine.” He heard the smile in her voice.

“Let me know if you need anything.”

“I will.”

He took a single step away, then turned back to her. “I know you didn’t have to bring Christie here. I’m glad you did.”

Without stopping to consider it wasn’t a smart idea, he bent forward to kiss her cheek. At the last second, he tilted his head and brushed his mouth against hers.

She jumped, obviously startled, but didn’t pull away. Neither did he. He couldn’t. The fire that leapt between them consumed his will and his ability to think. He could only feel. Passion swept through him. Passion and desire and need. The parts of him he’d thought long dead boiled painfully to life.

Finally he raised his head and stared at her. In the darkness he could see little more than the shape of her head. He didn’t know what she was thinking. Dammit, he didn’t want to know. He only wanted to erase what he’d just done.

Without a word, he turned and walked away. But even as he climbed the stairs to his office, the fire continued to burn low in his belly. As if it were a slumbering beast who had accidentally been awakened, the need demanded attention and release. He sensed with a growing certainty that this time it would not be ignored.

Erin gave up pretending to sleep at about five-thirty in the morning. She’d done fine when she’d first gone to bed, drifting off with a dopey smile on her lips. Then about midnight she’d awakened suddenly, jerked into consciousness by a frantic dream she couldn’t remember.

Since then she’d tossed and turned. Trying to think soothing thoughts didn’t help. Trying to think about Parker had only made matters worse, because once she’d started recalling the previous evening she hadn’t been able to think about anything else.

Maybe it was the terrace, Erin thought as she stood up and stretched. The worn stones, the vines climbing the side of the house, the scent of the ocean and the sound of the surf on the shore. It was a living, breathing romantic postcard and she was stuck in the center of the picture. So much for being the more logical of the twins.

Maybe it was the man himself, but Erin didn’t want that to be true. If only they’d kept the conversation on Stacey and Christie where it belonged. If only she could stop thinking about him. If only he hadn’t kissed her.

That kiss. That damn kiss. It had been so unexpected. One minute they’d been calmly talking and the next he’d excused himself to go work in his office. On the way out, he’d kissed her. As if it were a common occurrence.

Had he meant to? Did it mean anything?

Yes, it means something, she told herself. It means you’re losing your mind.

She crossed to the bathroom and quickly washed her face. After brushing her teeth and combing her hair into sleek order, she returned to the bedroom and dressed. A quick peek out the curtained window showed her that the sky was still dark. There was no hint of the sunrise so she couldn’t tell what kind of day it was going to be. She walked into the closet and grabbed a pair of jeans. Mornings were usually cool at the beach.

Five minutes later she poked her head in to check on her daughter. Christie was sound asleep, her worn teddy bear tucked under her arm. Erin adjusted the covers, then started along the hallway. The old house seemed to creak with her every step. She crept down the stairs, holding her breath and keeping to the side by the wall. As she passed the second floor, she wondered which room was Parker’s. She hadn’t been with Christie during the tour of the upstairs of the house.

She tried not to think of him sleeping, but trying wasn’t enough. Pictures of him in bed-what did he wear, if anything at all?-flashed through her mind. Her lips tingled as if he’d just repeated the brief kiss.

“Forget it,” she said softly as she reached the first floor and walked toward the kitchen. Three lights on the terrace shone through the living room windows and illuminated her way.

“He’s not interested in you,” she went on, trying to talk some sense into herself. “He’s made that clear. It was just a thank-you sort of kiss. Meaningless.” Except in her suddenly unruly mind.

It was the terrace, she decided as she entered the kitchen, flipped on the light switch and started looking for the coffeemaker. There was no other explanation. She wasn’t melodramatic or romantic. That had been Stacey’s problem. She loved her sister dearly but had never understood her need for drama. Life had a certain rhythm. People took turns. It was balanced and orderly.