by Karen Rose
‘Stevie’s pissed,’ Maggie said.
‘Yeah, I kinda got that. I think everyone in Hunt Valley felt the chill.’ Ford exaggerated a shiver. ‘I hope she understands that Clay was just keeping Cordelia’s confidence.’
Maggie’s expression was troubled. ‘I was your mother’s confidante when she was Cordelia’s age. I never told your grandmother, and when she found out, it nearly ended our friendship.’
Ford frowned. He knew the details of his mother’s traumatic childhood, but he hadn’t known that Maggie had been privy to those secrets at the time. ‘You and Gran are still friends, right? So you must have worked it all out.’
‘We did, but it was dicey for a while. Your mom had her reasons for keeping secrets from your grandmother, just like Cordelia does. It’s hard to stay impartial when you’re personally invested with all the participants in an emotional situation.’ She tilted her head, brows lifted in question. ‘Wouldn’t you agree?’
Ford’s cheeks heated. ‘I’m not personally invested.’ Not yet. But he wanted to be.
Maggie snorted. ‘Yeah, right. I’m surprised you still can move your fingers considering how hard she was squeezing your hand. She is awfully pretty, though, isn’t she?’
Yes. She is. Ford huffed out a breath in warning. ‘Maggie.’
‘Fo-ord,’ she teased back. ‘Well, tell your mom I said hi when you get home.’
‘Tell her yourself. You know you’re gonna be on the phone to her as soon as you get back in the house, telling her about the reunion.’
‘You know me too well, son. And I know you, too. You’re not planning on going home tonight. You’re staying here so Taylor can hold your hand some more.’
Ford stiffened, because that was far too close to the truth. Hell, it was the truth. ‘I promised Clay that she’d be here tomorrow morning.’
Maggie smiled affectionately. ‘You always were the multitasker.’ She took his arm and started back for the house. ‘I’ll make myself scarce if you make dinner. I have a chicken in the fridge. Hopefully with all that over with, the child will be able to eat more than crackers.’
They found Taylor still sitting at the kitchen table, staring at her phone and looking generally shell-shocked. Ford watched the relief flash in her eyes when he walked through the door, and it made him feel . . . good. About himself. About her. About the whole damn world.
It hit him just how long it had been since he’d felt this way. Twenty months. Twenty. That was how long it had been since Kimberly had pulled the rug right out from under him. For the first time in twenty months it didn’t hurt to think Kim’s name. Because he felt good.
Maggie gave Taylor an encouraging hug before excusing herself and going into the living room. Seconds later, just as Ford had predicted, she was dialing the phone.
Ford took the seat next to Taylor, inhaling as discreetly as he could. She smelled good and he wanted to fill his head with her scent. He gestured to the phone in her hand. ‘Did you call your . . .’ He stumbled over the word, not wanting to betray Clay. But even more, he found he didn’t want to hurt Taylor. She loved her stepfather. The man had loved her, protected her, even when he hadn’t needed to, and all because of a damn lie. ‘Did you call your stepdad?’
Taylor gave him a look of desperate appreciation. ‘Not yet. I don’t know how to tell him about all this. I don’t want to hurt him.’
‘You can love both your dads, Taylor,’ he said gently. ‘The man you’ve described will surely understand that.’
She smiled sadly. ‘He will, but that’s not what’s gonna hurt him most.’ She dropped her gaze to her phone again. ‘He didn’t want me to come here. Didn’t want me meeting Clay, not in any capacity. At first I thought he was afraid that I’d love him less, but that wasn’t it. He didn’t want me to find out that Clay was legitimately good, because that would mean that my mother really did lie to him all those years. That she kept lying, kept him thinking we had to hide, even when Carrie ran away.’ Her lips twisted bitterly. ‘Even after Carrie died and Julie needed intense physical therapy. My mother was so damn selfish and he gave up everything. For a lie.’
Ford let out a slow breath. ‘It’s the ultimate betrayal. I get that.’ Oh, how I get that.
She looked up then, her eyes filled with grave understanding. ‘I know you do.’
He couldn’t control his wince. She knew. She knew what Kimberly had done. How stupid I was. How much Kim’s lie had cost the people he loved.
Of course she knew. Taylor had researched each and every one of them. One only had to Google ‘Ford Elkhart’ to get hundreds of hits about Kimberly and the trial.
Ford didn’t want Taylor to know. He didn’t want anyone to know. But it was too late for that. Everybody knows. And now people would know that Taylor’s stepfather had been hoodwinked as well. It wouldn’t be in the papers – Ford hoped – so the number of people aware of Frederick Dawson’s humiliation would be a lot smaller than the number aware of Ford’s, but still . . . It was going to humiliate Taylor’s stepfather for a long, long time.
Because it still humiliates me, and Kimberly wasn’t even my wife. Although he’d wanted her to be. He’d all but popped the goddamn question. Thank God I didn’t go that far.
But as much as Ford sympathized with Taylor’s stepfather, he did not want her sympathy or her pity for himself. And right now? That was exactly what he was seeing in her eyes.
Darting a glance into the living room, he could just see Maggie sitting in her big easy chair, one foot bobbing as she talked on the phone. He couldn’t hear Maggie’s end of the conversation any more than she could hear theirs, but she met his eyes from across the room, brows arched.
Immensely grateful for the diversion, Ford gave Maggie a brief nod before turning back to Taylor. ‘Maggie’s talking to my mom. Your secret’s out, I’m afraid.’
Taylor looked resigned. ‘I expected this to happen. You guys are a tight-knit group.’
‘We are. They’ll want to meet you – the whole lot of them. Are you ready for that?’
‘Will they be like Stevie?’ she asked uncertainly. ‘I don’t want to go through that inquisition again.’
‘They’ll want answers to the same questions, only because most of us have seen how devastated Clay was every time he came back from California without finding you. I’ll talk to them first. Don’t worry. They’ll accept you because you’re Clay’s daughter. Even Stevie will come around.’ He shrugged, hoping he wasn’t telling a lie. ‘Eventually.’
‘Eventually.’ She looked away. ‘I guess I expected that too. It’s what I deserve.’
Ford frowned at her. ‘No, you don’t. You’ve been through hell too, and you took the initiative to meet him. That you did it on your own terms is your own business.’
Her smile was small but real, and it lit him up inside like a Christmas tree. ‘Thank you, Ford. You’ve been very nice to me when you didn’t have to be.’
‘I’m . . . It’s okay.’ Mission accomplished. The sympathy in her eyes had been eradicated. Now, back to our regularly scheduled program. ‘Are you going to call him? Your stepfather?’
Her smile disappeared, but she squared her shoulders and nodded. ‘I have to. I know he’s waiting by the phone. I can see him pacing right now.’
‘Then call him,’ Ford murmured. ‘You want me to stay or go?’
She suddenly looked years younger than she had seconds before. Younger and a million times more vulnerable. ‘Will you stay?’
‘Of course.’ He held out his hand, blinking when she gripped it even harder than she had earlier, which he hadn’t thought possible.
‘I don’t know what to say to him,’ she whispered. ‘I’ve never dreaded calling him, not in my whole life. Not until I came here.’
‘Your mother’s lies weren’t your fault, Taylor. You’re the v
ictim, just like your father. Just like both of your fathers.’
She nodded, her swallow audible, her hand trembling as she swiped to the favorites screen and tapped the name at the very top. Dad.
Ford’s heart hurt. For Clay, for her. But also for Frederick Dawson, the man who’d protected her all these years.
‘Hi, Daddy.’ She listened a moment, her lip quivering. ‘Yeah, I met him. He’s . . .’ Her voice broke. ‘Nice, Dad. He’s so damn nice. He knew me, right away. He cried, Daddy,’ she ended in a little whisper. ‘When he saw me . . . he cried.’
She shook her head, back and forth. ‘No, no, no. Not your fault. None of this is your fault. Please don’t . . . Dammit, Daddy, please.’ Still clutching Ford’s hand, she met his eyes miserably.
‘He’s crying too,’ she mouthed silently, then started to cry as well, deep body-racking sobs. Ford’s chest grew tight. He needed to do something, so he put his free arm around her shoulders, pulling her close and rocking her gently.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said to her stepfather, and Ford realized he’d lost count of how many times she’d said those words since she’d come face-to-face with the truth. ‘Say something,’ she pleaded. ‘Please, Dad. You’re scaring me.’
She listened again, a fraction of her tension fading even as her tears continued to fall. ‘I’d say it’s pretty conclusive. She lied, Dad. And he knew. All these years. Clay knew about it too. Aunt Laura told him. Years ago.’
Ford grabbed a napkin from the holder and pressed it into her hand, not letting her go as she dried her face. She glanced at him with a grateful grimace before dropping her eyes back to the table, her face hidden behind the curtain of her hair. Ford’s fingers itched to pull it back so that he could see her expression, but he contented himself with a gentle stroking of the back of her head, his heart beating faster when she leaned into him.
Another pause was followed by her giant sigh. ‘Yes, he did hire the PI, but not to kidnap me. He said he wanted to make sure Mom was a good mother. He said he wanted joint custody, but by then we’d disappeared.’
Her chin jerked up. Her hair slid back, revealing her face once again. ‘I told you,’ she said carefully, ‘that I’ll finish out this internship before I come home.’ She flinched, pain flitting across her expressive face. ‘You gotta trust me, Dad. I need to be here.’ Her eyes welled up with new tears. ‘That’s not fair. I love you. You’re my dad.’ The last words were whispered fiercely. ‘I’ll call you tomorrow, I promise.’ She closed her eyes, and the tears spilled down her cheeks. ‘I will. I promise that too. Bye, Dad. I love you too.’
She pressed END, then put the phone on the table, lining it up precisely with the table’s edge. She tugged her hand from Ford’s and stood, but her head hung and her shoulders sagged as if she carried a huge weight. Because she did. Through no fault of her own.
Furious with her mother and feeling helpless, Ford stood as well. He brushed his fingertips over her shoulder. ‘You okay?’ he murmured.
She shook her head. ‘No. That was . . . much harder than I thought it was going to be.’
She looked so alone, standing there with her head down. Before he could tell himself this was a bad idea, he turned her so that she faced him, then, as gently as he could, pulled her into his arms. She came to him carefully but willingly. More doll than woman. At first at least.
He wrapped himself around her, bending his body so that her head came to rest on his shoulder. For three long heartbeats she simply stood there, her hands at her sides. Then she was hugging him back, her arms like a vise around his waist. She clung, burying her face in the front of his shirt, while her fingers clutched at the fabric in the back. He stroked her hair, patted her back, rested his cheek on the top of her head, simply breathing her in.
And trying to ignore the soft pressure of her breasts against his chest and the way her body began to relax, becoming as pliable as melted wax, molding itself against him as the seconds ticked by. He tried to ignore all of those things, but his own body was totally not on board. He was so hard that he ached, and his hips wanted to thrust into all that softness so badly that he trembled with the effort of holding back.
Gritting his teeth, he shifted so that she touched him only from the waist up, regretting that he’d started something he had no hope of finishing. Well, maybe not no hope. He was a guy after all. All guys hoped. But he certainly had no business finishing anything with her.
She was temporary. She’d be going home in a month. This could only be a fling.
So? And anyway, planes fly between Baltimore and California every day.
No. She was hurting. He couldn’t take advantage. But . . . I hurt, too. His heart and his pride and his sense of being a man had taken a huge hit when Kimberly had betrayed him. He was man enough to admit that, if only to himself. He’d been so lonely for so long. Taylor was the first woman to motivate him into trying to change that. So maybe giving each other some respite wasn’t too wrong. Was it?
Respite? the voice in his head asked mockingly. Is that what we’re calling it now?
Well, respite would certainly be part of it. They were two lonely people, both old enough to know what they wanted. What was the harm?
She’s Clay’s daughter, the voice reminded him sharply, and he can murder you in ways no one will ever suspect and then hide your body where no one will ever find it.
Okay, that argument was enough to knock the wind from his sails. Or it should have been. His body had other thoughts. Way too many other thoughts. Hell, Elkhart, you need to find yourself a date. One that won’t get you murdered. Stat.
He eased out the breath that was backing up in his lungs. Taylor had stopped crying at least, and for that he was grateful. Her hands slowly released his shirt and she lifted her chin, her eyes meeting his. He forced his arms to open so that she could back away.
But she didn’t back away. She stood there in the quiet of the kitchen, staring up at his face, her gaze . . . aware. Interested. Defiant. And just a little bit reckless.
No, no, no. Bad idea. Very bad idea, for too many reasons. But the sight of the tip of her tongue venturing out to lick her lower lip made him forget every single one of those reasons. He lifted his hand to her face slowly, giving her time to back away if this wasn’t what she wanted. But she stayed put. Staring at him like she was trying to see under his skin. He brushed the back of his fingers over her cheek, his chest expanding painfully when she turned her face into the small caress. Her eyes closed and her expression was one of . . . wonder.
Shit. She’d never been touched like this. Until coming here, she’d never been away from home without an escort. That her overprotective stepfather would allow her to date? Ford simply couldn’t see that happening.
I’d be her first. The realization was the splash of cold water he’d needed. He wasn’t going to do this. Not right now. Not when she’d had one shock after another.
Gently, he gripped her chin. ‘Taylor,’ he whispered. ‘We can’t.’
She opened her eyes and Ford saw the flash of embarrassed understanding. ‘Shit,’ she whispered back, jerking away from his hand, her cheeks red with shame. ‘I’m . . . Never mind. I’m going to my room.’
He grabbed her arm, holding it only long enough to keep her from walking away. ‘Wait.’ Slowly he dropped his hands to his sides. ‘It’s not what you think.’
Her jaw jutted out. ‘And exactly what do I think?’
He opened his mouth. Closed it again. Chose his words carefully. ‘Truthfully, I don’t exactly know. But I . . .’ He blew out a breath. ‘I’m feeling about fifteen years old all over again,’ he confessed. ‘And fifteen sucked.’
‘That it did,’ she said evenly.
‘The truth is that I’m terrified I’m going to say the wrong thing.’ Ford made a face. ‘You have a scary right hook.’
Her l
ips twitched. ‘I promise not to hit you again.’
He grinned down at her, at ease once more. ‘Thank you.’ He sobered, his grin quickly fading. ‘I don’t know what you thought just now, but I really did want to kiss you.’
Her throat worked as she fought to swallow. ‘Why didn’t you?’
‘Because I’m not a dick,’ he said ruefully. ‘You had a shock today. I had a shock today.’ He rubbed his jaw. ‘More than one, actually. I’m not going to take advantage of you.’
Her chin lifted and he got the feeling he’d stepped in it once again. ‘You’re saying that I’m too fragile to know what I want.’
‘“Fragile” was not the word I had in mind,’ he said wryly, making her lips twitch again. ‘“Conflicted” might be a better one. “Shaken”.’ He decided that touching her again was worth the risk, so he cupped her face in his palm. ‘I’m selfish enough to want a kiss to mean something. I want it to be because you want me. Not because you’re shaken up and I’m available.’
She was quiet for nearly a minute before squarely meeting his eyes. ‘And once I’m not conflicted or shaken up?’
‘Then if you still mean it, I’ll want it,’ he said simply. ‘Until then, I’m here for whatever else you need.’
She frowned. ‘Why?’
He was taken aback by the question. ‘Because I like to think I’m a nice guy. And because you’ve been dealt a really shitty hand, but you still seem to care about other people. Like your dad and Clay. And little Jazzie.’ He leaned into her space to whisper in her ear. ‘And because when you’re no longer shaken up, I want you to care about me. I want you to want me.’
Her breasts rose and fell as she drew a deep breath, her cheeks darkening again, but this time it wasn’t shame. It was need. He started to reach for her once more, but shoved his hands in his pockets instead. He needed to change the subject, and his stomach cooperated by growling loudly. Food. He’d promised Maggie that he’d make dinner.
He took a giant step back, rounding the table to gather the ingredients from the refrigerator. Holding the package of chicken in one hand, he turned to find Taylor escaping up the stairs. He wanted to beg her to stay, but knew she needed space just as he did. So he kept his tone light. ‘You’re not a vegetarian, are you?’
