Sunday came hard, her back arching up, her belly pressing against his. A year’s worth of pent-up emotion poured out of her and tears streamed down her face as she cried out. Embarrassed, she turned her head away from him but he gently kissed them away without saying anything.
They lay side by side, panting, then, not needing words, they made love again, slowly, exploring the other’s body. She loved how his body was so much bigger than hers, his arms thickly banded with muscles cradling her as if she was the most precious thing in the world. She stroked her fingers down his face—he was so beautiful, he didn’t seem real—seeing the trouble in his eyes and wondering about it.
But, no. Don’t wonder that. Don’t wonder about him. Keep this as what it is… a wonderful, sensual, spectacular interlude. She pressed her lips to his, wanting to remember every inch of him because she knew in her heart—this was a one-time thing.
They made love into the early hours before Sunday was unable to keep her eyes open a moment longer.
In the morning, he was gone.
In the shower, Sunday flexed her muscles and felt the delicious ache of the recently fucked. Her thighs throbbed; her vagina was raw from the pounding of her lover’s huge cock. There were faint bite marks on her breasts, her shoulders. Her mouth was still tingling from his kiss.
And inside her, something had been released. Something she hadn’t known was there, a block. The lack of intimacy since Cory’s murder hadn’t been something she had thought about, but now, after last night, she realized how distant, physically, she had kept everyone else for the last year.
She drove up to the Giotto house, taking some fresh bread from the town bakery for Carmen, who thanked her and invited her to share a coffee with her. “I have some news. Not that it will directly affect you, but you should know.”
She indicated the stool and Sunday sat, watching her new friend curiously. “What’s up?”
“Well, River’s daughter will be coming to stay for a few weeks, is all, and Berry is adorable, but a handful.”
“Mr. Giotto has a daughter?”
“Five years old, but he’s only known her for a few years. I believe she was the product of a one-night stand.”
Sunday hoped her face wasn’t as red as it felt. “It happens. So, Berry—and what a great name, huh?—she’s coming to stay for a few weeks?”
Carmen nodded. “River has promised me that he’ll do most of the heavy lifting, but I know him. There will be days when he’s in his studio and he forgets about everything, including Berry. Those days you might find yourself with a little helper.”
“I don’t mind that, as long as Mr. Giotto understands I’ll be distracted from work.”
Carmen grinned. “You can call him River, you know.”
“Do you think I’ll ever meet him?” Sunday had already imagined what he’d look like—gray-haired, grumpy. Daisy had said he was ‘old,’ but then Daisy was twenty-four. ‘Old’ could mean anyone over thirty.
Carmen sighed. “I hope so, sweetheart, I do. I know this might seem a strange situation to you but River has never been a very sociable person. He got worse after his mother died and his father remarried.” She lowered her voice. “His stepmother is a vile, vicious woman. Something happened between her and River and he was never the same.”
“God, how awful.”
Carmen nodded. “He would never tell anyone what happened, but it must have been pretty bad. He had bruises, but he wouldn’t tell his father.”
“How old was he when this happened?”
“Sixteen. It’s been twenty years and he still won’t talk about it.”
So ‘old’ was thirty-six? Sunday blinked, adjusting her image of her enigmatic employer. “That’s just awful. Is she still around?”
“Unfortunately, but thankfully, she lives in New York. She’d better not show her face here anytime soon.”
Sunday nodded, and soon she went back to her office to start work. She couldn’t stop thinking about what Carmel had told her and wondered if Ludovico’d had any idea his son was being abused by his wife. Sunday shook her head, angry for River. She had no time for men or women who abused kids. She gave into temptation and typed Ludo’s name into a search engine. She found pictures of a handsome, silver-haired man with a much younger woman—a woman Sunday recognized immediately. “No fucking way,” she hissed under her breath.
Angelina freaking Marshall. The Wicked Witch of the Upper East Side. Sunday smiled grimly. Suddenly, the abuse didn’t seem so surprising. Angelina was both feared and reviled, but her money, her position as the daughter of one of New York’s most powerful families, meant people fawned around her, regardless. Sunday or rather, Marley, had interviewed the woman once for a segment on the early show and had disliked her immensely. She’d nicknamed Angelina ‘Our Lady of Perpetual Victimhood’ after the woman had claimed to have suffered from several serious illnesses without any evidence of such poor health. When Marley had called her out on air, she’d made an enemy of the other woman. Angelina had called Marley’s boss, demanding Marley be fired. Jack, the station owner, had refused point blank. They didn’t pander to people like Angelina Marshall.
Now, Sunday wondered if Ludo had written about his ex-wife. She flicked through the diaries but found they stopped before River’s mother had died. Sunday chewed her lip. On a hunch, she went to find Carmen and asked her if there were more diaries.
“Oh yes, honey, there’ll be a few more volumes. River told me to give you a couple at a time so you didn’t feel overwhelmed.”
“Gotcha.”
“Any reason you asked?”
Yes. I know Angelina Marshall. “No, just wondered, as the two you gave me seem to only got to a certain date.”
Carmen wiped her hands. “Come with me.” She led her through the house and into a large study. “Now, don’t judge, but this is Ludo’s study. Not his actual study, you understand, but River had it copied exactly when he had the house built. Over here.”
She pointed to a bookcase that reached from floor to ceiling. Sunday almost moaned with happiness when she saw it. It looked a little like the library from Beauty and the Beast. She ran a flat hand over the spines of the books. “Heaven.”
Carmen chuckled. “I knew you were hiding your inner geek. River’s the same about libraries. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you want to borrow anything. And if you want more of Ludo’s diaries, have at them.”
Carmen left her to enjoy the library at her leisure. Sunday hoisted a few of Ludo’s diaries out and bore them back to her office. Her interest was piqued now, and she searched through them until she found the first mention of Angelina. Settling on the couch, she read for a few hours. The day soon went and although she had read nearly a whole journal, she had found nothing out of the ordinary. She marveled at Ludo’s attention to detail, though—the man documented everything except his bathroom habits, she found, and yet it was never boring. She decided she would have liked to know Ludovico Giotto very much. He was warm and humorous and obviously adored his first wife and his son.
Carmen had told her that today was her half-day off and so, at suppertime, Sunday packed her bag and walked through the silent house. There was something both comforting yet charged about the silence of the house. Outside, she stood for a moment, listening to the faint sound of snow falling and breathed in a lungful of the freezing air. Yes, she could get used to this peace.
Once again, the feeling of being watched came over her. She looked toward the far end of the house and smiled. “Why don’t you come talk to me?” she said out loud, out into the silence, but there was no answer. Who are you? “Whatever she did to you, I’d like to make her pay for it.” Sunday said that softly, to herself.
Even after everything had happened to her, she still went out, made new friends, had experiences. She could not imagine being so scarred by something that she would disappear into exile.
Isn’t that just what you’ve done though?
Not by choice.
&nb
sp; Sunday got into her truck and drove back into town. She saw the coffeehouse was still open and stopped to say hi to Daisy.
Her friend seemed delighted to see her. “Hiya. Americano?”
“I’m in the mood for hot chocolate, actually. I need the sugar.”
Daisy grinned and nodded to a chair. “Grab a pew. I’ll bring it over.”
Sunday sat, dumping her purse on the floor next to her. She nodded at Aria, who smiled blandly but didn’t come over. She was talking to a handsome young man with dark blond hair and blue eyes, who looked at Sunday with interest. Aria murmured something to him and they both laughed, and Sunday felt her face flush. What was this, ninth grade?
Daisy brought over two cups of hot chocolate and sat down, flashing an annoyed glance at her stepsister. “Ignore her,” she told Sunday, “she never grew up. So, how’s things? Settling in? Met River yet?”
Sunday smiled at her new friend. “Good. Yes and no. The mysterious Mr. Giotto remains a stranger. I did meet Cleo at the diner last night.” For some reason, she didn’t want to mention the delectable stranger whom she had taken home. That was for her alone, her dirty little secret.
Daisy was grinning. “I love Cleo. She’s so effortlessly cool. I’m a dork and yet she still decided I was to be her best friend. She’s from New York, you know?”
“I didn’t.” A small curl of unease started in Sunday’s stomach—would Cleo recognize her? Daisy didn’t notice her disquiet.
“Well, anyway, so the job is going okay? I’m not surprised River’s hiding out.”
“What’s he like? I know he’s thirty-six and an artist but that’s all I know.” Sunday knew she shouldn’t be pumping Daisy for information, that she was drawing on their tentative friendship, but she couldn’t help herself. Since finding out about River’s stepmother … she felt she had to know more.
“Gorgeous-looking, but also a little …” Daisy searched for the right word. “Not sinister, but rather … oh bugger, I’m trying to find the right word. Brooding. He always has this troubled look about him. I like him; he tells it how it is and can’t be bothered with games.” She shot a glance over to her sister. “Probably why he and Aria didn’t last. Anyway, he keeps himself to himself, as you know. Once upon a time, he would come have coffee, chat with some locals, but those days are gone. Shame.” She studied Sunday. “And you really haven’t seen him?”
Sunday shook her head. “I have met Luke Maslany, though.”
Daisy’s smile widened. “Oh, I love Luke. He’s like a big teddy bear. I have such a crush on him.”
“You should ask him out,” Sunday told and Daisy laughed.
“Right … He’s a big-deal doctor, and I’m a coffee shop owner.”
“So? Luke seems pretty down to earth to me, and there’s nothing wrong with owning a coffeehouse. You’re an entrepreneur. This place is wonderful. I’m sure I wouldn’t feel so welcome anyplace else.”
“You are sweet. But really, Luke is way out of my league.”
Sunday looked at Daisy incredulously. Daisy was gorgeous, all soft curves and warmth. “No one is out of your league, honey.”
Daisy rolled her eyes. “Sweet talker. How about you? Any boyfriends? Or girlfriends? I shouldn’t presume.”
Sunday grinned. “Dude, if I were into girls, I’d be hitting on you right now.” They both laughed. “But no. No boyfriend. Not for a while now.”
“There’s a story there, isn’t there?” Daisy said, reading Sunday’s expression, and she nodded.
“Yeah. But for another time.”
“Gotcha.”
As Sunday walked back to her apartment, she glanced over at the diner, wondering if her erstwhile lover would turn up there again tonight. She had already decided she wouldn’t be there. Last night had been wild, crazy, and exhilarating—and a one-off. She didn’t need the complication, however much she craved that touch again.
Nope.
No way.
Chapter Six
River crouched down to take his daughter in his arms. “Hello again, Pickle.”
Berry, all dark curls and a huge smile, giggled. “I’m not a pickle, Daddy!”
“Yeah you are, big pickle. Hey, Linds.” He stood, Berry in his arms, to greet his ex-lover, who smiled at him gratefully.
“Hey, River. Listen, I cannot tell you how grateful I am for this.”
He waved her thanks away. “It’s always a pleasure, don’t be silly. Let’s go grab some breakfast. I know airport food isn’t that great, but I know somewhere we can go—if you have the time?”
Lindsey, a sweet, dark-haired woman, nodded at him, but there was something in her eyes that made him curious. “Of course.”
As they ate breakfast in a diner an hour later, she told him. “Stage IV,” she said simply, and River’s heart broke.
“No. Oh God … Linds.”
“Just my luck, eh? Just the tiniest lump, barely able to feel it, but apparently, it’s deep and spreading. Liver, lungs, brain.”
“Jesus.” River took her hand, and she squeezed his back. “Sweetheart … listen, we can do something. Sloan Kettering or anyplace in any country that can treat you, we can do that.”
Lindsey touched his face. “You are the sweetest man, River Giotto, but I’m afraid it’s way past that now. It’s okay, I’ve made my peace. It’s just …” She cut her eyes to Berry who was eating a huge stack of blueberry pancakes, a look of great concentration on her face. “I hate the thought of leaving …” She looked back at River with tears in her eyes. “And I know you didn’t ask for any of this, for us, for her but …”
“Lindsey, it would be my honor, my privilege, and my absolute responsibility. I hate that you feel you have to ask. Of course … of course …”
Lindsey’s shoulders slumped and she let the tears fall then. “I cannot tell you how relieved I am. I was so scared that she would be left alone.”
“Never. Never ever,” River said with feeling and drew Lindsey into his arms, hugging her tightly. “We are a family. An unusual one, yes, but then I don’t know what normal is. You have my word, Lindsey. Berry will want for nothing, especially love.”
They talked for hours. Lindsey told him the doctors had given her a few weeks. “If I’m lucky. I need to go say my goodbyes to everyone, but I don’t want to traumatize Berry. If I may … I’d like us to be together at the end.”
“Of course. Look, I could travel with you. Take care of Berry. Then we can all be together the whole time.”
Lindsey looked at him in surprise. “You would do that?”
“Of course. I understand why you want to protect her from the worst but believe me, she’ll figure it out later and wonder why you went away when you could have been together. Trust me, honey, we can do this.”
Lindsey started to cry again. “You are a remarkable man, River Giotto.”
Later, when Lindsey and Berry were taking a nap, River called Carmen and explained the situation. “Can I ask you to pack me a suitcase and have it brought here? I don’t want to waste a moment with them both.”
“Of course … oh, it’s just so sad. Listen, don’t worry about anything. And I’ll … get a room ready for Berry when you come back.”
River closed his eyes. “Thank you, Carmen. I know this is a strange situation. I hate to say it, but I don’t think we’ll be away for long.”
After he hung up, he glanced over at his ex-lover and their daughter sleeping. There was no question in his mind that he would go with them to say goodbye to Lindsey’s loved ones. He would make sure they traveled in luxury and were spoiled rotten by everyone. He had no idea how they were going to tell the child that Mommy wouldn’t be around for much longer. How the hell did you make a five-year-old understand?
His heart throbbed with pain and he stepped outside the hotel room to smoke a cigarette on the balcony. Man, he felt like life was just running away with him, as if he had no control. Work, family, his failing eyesight.
And his father’s diaries and th
e woman who was transcribing them for him. Sunday Kemp. Even her name made his cock harden. He’d watched her leave his home a few times, known she’d sensed him there, seen her shy wave. He’d even heard her tell him to come talk to her.
If only she knew …
But for now, he had to concentrate, and maybe being away from Colorado for a few weeks would help clear his head. Maybe she would have finished transcribing his father’s journals by then, found out about the horror of his family history, and would have left by the time he got back with Berry.
Maybe he would be able to stop thinking about her.
Maybe …
New York …
Angelina Marshall rolled over and slipped out of bed. Brian Scanlan watched her with a critical eye as she shrugged into a silk robe and headed for the shower. “You’ve lost more weight.”
Angelina ignored him. It was true, she had lost weight, but she didn’t see it as a negative. She could fit into every high-end designer sample and looked good doing it. Her high cheekbones were perhaps more prominent that she’d like, and the constant battle with the gray pallor of her skin was a nuisance, but otherwise, she knew she was a beautiful woman.
If she wasn’t, then how was it that Brian kept bedding her? And the rest of them. Angelina didn’t particularly enjoy sex; she just enjoyed the power it gave her over men.
“So?” She went to the table where six lines of fine white powder lay scratched out on the glass. She snorted two lines then nodded at them. “It’s good. Enjoy.”
Scanlan was already getting dressed. “Not my scene, but thanks.”
Angelina smirked. “Since when? You’re the biggest cokehead I know.”
“Not anymore. I need a clear head.”
“Ah. Is this the missing journalist skank?”
She didn’t notice his eyes turned from gray to ice white. “She’s not a skank. But yes, I have to keep my concentration if I’m going to find her.”
The Hottest Daddy Page 4
