Sweet and Sassy Daddies

by Natalie Ann

Daniel scanned the small and cozy kitchen, with a scratched countertop and old-fashioned appliances that needed updating.

  “My house is small.” She opened her hands with a careless shrug. “One story, three bedrooms, two bathrooms. Just enough for Lizzie and me. Easy to clean and maintain.”

  “And it smells of delicious cooking. You don’t need more than that.”

  Thanking him with a smile, she called, “Lizzie, Noah, go wash your hands.”

  By the time they returned, she’d already served rice with chicken and green beans on the side. Noah twitched his mouth at the sight of his veggies.

  “I don’t like that,” the boy said with a pleading look at his father.

  Daniel averted his gaze and wisely remained quiet.

  “Mommy’s beans are so good.” Lizzie sent her friend a scolding look. “They’re crispy. I love them.”

  “Huh...”

  “Have you ever tried them?”

  “No.”

  “Poor Noah. I’m sure you’ll like them.”

  Daniel ignored him and attacked his food. “I’m so hungry. Delicious. Thank you, Meredith.”

  Noah sighed and took a bite, then a second, and ate quietly. “Thank you, Auntie Mommy. I like it.”

  “Can we go out with the kittens?” Lizzie asked after they cleared their plates.

  “Sure. We’re coming with you,” Meredith said. In April, the daylight lingered until eight o’clock, but the children were too young to stay out on their own.

  After thirty minutes, she called them inside, gave them their ice cream, and turned to Daniel.

  “About the case—”

  “I brought you a folder with a summary, newspaper clippings, and pictures. Browse at your leisure and familiarize yourself with the case.”

  “This case must be so important to you. I can understand that.” She bobbed her head and cast him an inquisitive look.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Because of your wife’s accident.”

  “My wife’s accident has nothing to do with this case. I’m not trying to avenge her death on this drunk driver. No, Meredith, we want to arrest the man who almost killed a young boy. Tomorrow I’ll take you to meet Quentin, and you’ll understand. It could have been my son or your daughter. And that’s not fair for our children. For any child,” he added with a good dose of anger. And she had a faint glimpse of the prosecutor presenting his case in court, a lawyer full of concern for the victim, determined to punish the guilty party.

  Unfortunately, Daniel’s determination didn’t bode well for Les.

  “It was an accident, Daniel. The man causing it is not a cold-blooded murderer.”

  “How could you defend a man you’ve never met?” Daniel snapped. “A careless drunk driver? A coward who left the scene of an accident and has been hiding in fear?” His voice escalated with his accusations.

  “I’m not defending him.” She caught Daniel’s hand, stroking it in an attempt to soothe his frustration. “Just saying that this drunk driver may be a lost soul who’d been drinking to forget deep troubles.”

  “So it doesn’t matter that he endangers people or even kills a person?”

  “Daniel, calm down. I’m not saying that. But I’m a psychologist, not a lawyer. I’m used to trying to help people, not try them.” And she’d better avoid discussing his cases with him.

  When Lizzie yawned, Meredith looked at the clock on the kitchen wall and said, “Getting tired, sweetie?”

  “No, Mommy,” Lizzie immediately protested, but Daniel took the hint and called Noah.

  “Get Taco and say goodnight. You have school tomorrow. We better hurry up.”

  After a series of hugs, Daniel settled Noah in his car seat and buckled him, then returned to the garage. Meredith had already sent her daughter to her bedroom to change.

  “Meredith, I want to stress a point.” He wrapped his arms around her. “Working together is supposed to bring us closer. We may not always agree, and that’s okay. We can discuss any issue like professional people, but please don’t let anything antagonize you against me.”

  “Daniel, I want to get closer to you. That’s why I wish you’d let me off the hook about this job.”

  “This family needs you so badly.”

  “Wouldn’t it be a conflict of interest because we know each other?” She sighed, knowing she didn’t make sense.

  The real conflict of interest in this case was her friendship with Les, not with Daniel. But she couldn’t betray the poor man who was on the run, suffering from his mistake, and probably suicidal.

  “No conflict of interest, Meredith.” He flashed his wicked smile. “Not even if the prosecutor is caught kissing the psychotherapist.” He lowered his head for a scorching kiss. And she forgot all the conflicts in the world.

  This man had the power to send her to heaven or break her heart as he had years ago.

  “Don’t make me fall in love with you, Daniel.”

  He stroked her neck with his warm palm. “That’s exactly what I hope to do. I’ve already fallen for you, my lovely Meredith.”

  He offered her such a sweet smile—a smile she’d keep in her heart and mind when falling asleep.

  She watched his SUV leave, closed the garage, and entered her house to check on Lizzie. Her daughter had already changed into her pj’s and was brushing her teeth. “Good girl, Lizzie.”

  “Can you read to me now?”

  “Sure.”

  The phone ring startled her, although she’d been expecting and dreading Les’s call all evening.

  “Merry, I saw a car in your driveway. Who was that?”

  Damn, Les was hiding in the neighborhood, watching her.

  “A little friend of Lizzie’s and his father. The children became good friends and want to play together,” she explained reasonably to avoid any panic. “Where are you? What are you doing around here?”

  “First, tell me about the kid. Did you learn something?”

  “He’s recovering.”

  A huge sigh of relief reached her. “Thank God. So, I’m not a murderer.”

  “No, Les. But you’re a sick man with a drinking problem. Go to the closest AA center and sign in, before the police find you. That would help your case a lot.”

  There was a moment of silence. He was probably debating the wisdom of her words.

  “You’re right. I’ll go tomorrow—”

  “No. Go now. Tomorrow may be too late. Go now, Les. Please, go now.”

  “Can you go to my apartment and get me some clothes?”

  “No. I can’t do that. The police are certainly watching your place. I can’t get that involved. I have to think of Lizzie.” From the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of Lizzie standing in the kitchen, pouting and about to cry. “Go to AA tonight. For heaven’s sake, go.”

  She ended the connection and put her arm around her little girl.

  “Is that Uncle Les, Mommy? Is he coming?”

  “No, sweetie. He’s not coming here again. Only Uncle Daddy and Noah will come here.”

  “I love Uncle Daddy.”

  “Me too, baby. Let’s go to bed.”

  A few minutes later, she lay in bed, the pillows propped up behind her head to read Les’s case, as reported by the police and summarized by Daniel—a rational report presenting Mitchell L. Connor as a dangerous and devious criminal, an expert at evading the police.

  Couldn’t they see that Les badly needed help?

  A text from Daniel interrupted her reading.

  Can we have lunch together tomorrow, somewhere near your office?

  So, their family dinner with the children and kittens was not enough? Or maybe...

  To discuss the case? she thumbed.

  5 min to discuss the case.

  10 min to talk about the children and their pets.

  And the rest of the time to chat about us.

  Oh and then 15 min to fool around in my car.

  She burst out laughing. Sounds good to me.


  Can I call you? he texted.

  Sure.

  I mean FaceTime, he added.

  Huh... I’m in my nightie.

  Great.

  She chuckled.

  Less than a minute later, her cell phone vibrated. Instinctively, she pulled the comforter up to her throat before touching the FaceTime icon. Daniel’s smiling face and his naked torso filled her screen. He too was lying in bed, casually propped up against a pillow, with an arm under his head and the phone in his other hand.

  This man was so good to look at. She almost licked her lips.

  Good thing he couldn’t detect her blush on his screen.

  “You’re sleeping?” she muttered, and realized the stupidity of her question.

  “No, sweetheart, just looking at you. Do you always sleep with the comforter up to your nose?”

  She frowned, looked at herself, and lowered it a tad.

  He bobbed his head with understanding. “So, that’s for me. Modesty because I called you.”

  “Don’t be silly.”

  “Is your nightie transparent?” he asked with an innocent arch to his eyebrows.

  “No, it’s not,” she snapped. “Do you have anything else to say or—”

  “A lot to say. Seriously, Meredith. I didn’t call to look at you...although I don’t mind the view,” he added with a chuckle.

  “Stop it. We can’t hold a serious conversation when in bed and in night clothes.”

  “Right, but I’m wearing boxers—basically night shorts. Is it a distraction?” he said, his mischievous smile too much to bear.

  Yes, damn it. The shorts and his wide, muscled, naked chest she’d love to snuggle over. “Daniel, enough. I’m calling you on a regular line.”

  Chapter Seven

  Daniel couldn’t stop laughing as he cut the FaceTime connection. He hadn’t expected her to be that prudish. Back then...

  Remembering that they’d never made love in high school, he sobered. The fact that she’d slept with Dodd had enraged him. And still enraged him. She’d seemed so sweet, so proper, he’d put her on a pedestal, ready to respect her for as long as she’d wanted.

  Damn it, she’d betrayed him with a conceited jerk.

  His phone vibrated in his hand, and he picked up the regular call.

  “Yes, Daniel, what did you want to tell me?”

  “Why did you kiss Dodd?” he blurted, his mind still focused on the past and its bitterness. “Why did you leave me?”

  “Huh? What are you talking about? I thought you wanted to discuss the Quentin case.”

  “I was, but something else popped into my mind. Why did you betray me with Dodd?”

  “I didn’t,” she snapped. “I never wanted to kiss him. Never. Did you ever give me a chance to explain? Did you ever try to listen to me?” she shouted, obviously out of control with anger. “You were already a prosecutor in the making. Passing judgment without evaluating the reason behind—”

  “I always look at the facts, Meredith. I don’t—”

  “The facts can be misleading, Daniel O’Malley. You should learn to evaluate the psychological motivation behind your damned facts.”

  She ended the call.

  Frustrated and furious at himself, he threw his head back on the pillow and scrunched his eyes. Why had he brought up the past now? Why had he mentioned Dodd?

  Things had been going so well between him and Meredith. And he’d screwed it all up.

  After punching his pillow and cursing a few times, he debated calling her back. He’d upset her, all right. And she might not take his call. Inhaling and exhaling a couple of times allowed him to calm down, and he decided to text her and apologize—a thing so alien to him. To keep her, he’d do anything.

  I’m sorry, Meredith. I promise I won’t open up that subject anymore. I would hate losing you again. Our friendship is too precious to me. Please forgive me.

  He waited for an answer. It didn’t come. Disgusted with himself, he left his bed and went to pour himself a scotch. He guzzled a good mouthful to calm his frazzled nerves.

  His phone vibrated. “What are you doing right now?” Her brisk tone pierced his ears.

  “Huh, I’m thinking of you.”

  “I know. Are you having a drink to calm your frustration?”

  “Yes.” He frowned.

  “So you too, the respectable prosecutor, count on alcohol to drown your aggravation. Right? You too don’t have enough willpower to deal with your problems without the help of alcohol. Right, Mr. Prosecutor?”

  “What’s the meaning —”

  “I’m just making a point, stating a fact. Aren’t you the one who believes in facts?”

  “Meredith—”

  “Other than that, apology accepted, Daniel.” Her tone softened. “I don’t want to lose you either. Even if you’ve been an absolute jerk in the past. I want you in my life. I’ve always wanted you, Dany.” Her voice broke. Was she crying?

  The call ended. She must be crying.

  Grasping the phone, he wished he could go to her place, take her in his arms, and comfort her with kisses and the promise he’d never hurt her again. But he couldn’t leave Noah.

  He threw the rest of his drink in the sink and returned to bed. She was right. How could he blame others for searching for solace in alcohol if he did the same? Except, he had the good sense not to get behind the wheel.

  The thought that she was crying because of him broke his heart. He texted her again.

  Please don’t cry. I wish I could hold you.

  See you tomorrow at lunch, Daniel.

  Finally, he breathed better, reassured that she wouldn’t resent him.

  ***

  With her thoughts flitting from Daniel to Les and her ex-husband Steve and even to Jeremy Dodd, Meredith had an awful night. Why had she gotten involved with Daniel again?

  Despite her degrees in psychology and psychotherapy, she’d been a poor judge of male character and had allowed the men she’d cared about to hurt her. Daniel and Jerry in high school, her husband Steve later, and more recently, Les with the problems he’d unloaded on her shoulders.

  Why couldn’t she be selfish like them, use them as they used her, and turn her back without remorse?

  In the morning, a hot shower and two cups of strong coffee didn’t alleviate her headache. With the intention to look very professional on her first day of work with Daniel, she paid careful attention to her clothing. Early in her career, she’d learned that people often judged you on your appearance.

  A navy and white dress, fashionably short, with a matching navy jacket and a pair of high-heel pumps would project the right look. She pulled her hair back with a rhinestone barrette, applied a touch of makeup, and added a whiff of perfume for Daniel’s benefit.

  Ready for her work day, she helped Lizzie get dressed, watched her feed her kitten, and listened to her babbling as they ate their breakfast.

  “Your lunch bag is on the countertop. Don’t forget it.” Meredith slipped a jacket on her daughter, grabbed her own bag, and locked the kitchen door behind them, then buckled Lizzie in her car seat and climbed into her SUV.

  The morning routine proceeded as usual, or maybe with added effort on Meredith’s part and more cups of coffee to better concentrate on her subject.

  At eleven forty-five she left the school clinic and drove to the restaurant across from the medical building where she rented an office. Daniel was waiting for her in the parking lot, not far from the door, looking smashing in his brown suit, beige shirt, and striped tie.

  Meredith took Daniel’s breath away when sprinting toward him, elegant, confident, and more beautiful than ever.

  He strode toward her and greeted her with a quick brush of his lips on her mouth. “Thank you for coming.”

  In the foyer, he told the hostess he’d made a reservation for two, and she led them to a far corner booth that lent itself to privacy. Meredith slid into the seat facing the window, and Daniel sat across from her. They put
in their orders, salad and coffee for her and a burger, fries, and coffee for him.

  “Tell me about the Herbs,” she said, after the waiter placed their plates in front of them. “According to your text from last night, you’re allowed five minutes of business talk.”

  “Correct.” He smiled and relaxed, pleased that Meredith seemed determined to keep a light mood.

  “What’s Mr. Herb doing in life?”

  “Building manager. Victor also moonlights twice a week at the hospital as an orderly.”

  “So, he kind of struggles to make ends meet.”

  “Probably.”

  “What about Mrs. Herb?”

  “Patricia works as a salesperson in a children’s store in the Kenwood Mall.”

  Between bites, she continued her string of questions. “How many children?”

  She questioned him with the calm and poise she’d developed in her career. A far cry from the shy teenage girl he’d dated years ago.

  “Quentin is their only child together. She has an older boy by a previous marriage. A good kid, twenty years old. He goes to a community college and works in the evening in a garage. And the husband has two daughters; one is married, the other lives with her mother and attends the University of Cincinnati.”

  “So, they’re good kids with no problems.”

  “As far as I know.”

  “How do the parents relate to Quentin, according to your observation?”

  “Patricia is very protective. Always worried that the accident will leave indelible scars on her son, both physical and psychological.”

  “That’s understandable. How is his health now?”

  “He went through three weeks of hell with his coma and surgeries. He’s going through physical therapy now and doing his best to walk normally.”

  “Was he an athletic boy?”

  “I don’t know. You’ll have to find out. Besides, our five minutes of business talk are over.” He gave her an ominous look and raised his index finger.

  “Correct.” She chuckled. “Now we’re entitled to ten minutes about the children.”

  “No, about the family, which entails Lizzie and Noah, Wendy and Taco, and you and me.”

  She laughed. “Okay. How’s Taco?”