Doorstep Daddy

by Shirley Jump

  Dalton closed his eyes for a brief second. He thought of all the words he’d go back and say, if only he could. All those words he’d kept to himself and missed speaking, because he’d been young and scared. “I know what you mean.”

  “But then, after that moment of fear passed, I’d have to act. I’d have to be busy, to have something to do, like a bee flitting from one thing to another.”

  “Why?”

  “Because,” she said softly, her voice catching before it regained its regular strident tones, “if I didn’t keep busy, if I stopped for even a second, I’d break down and cry. And I…” She paused, and in that pause he saw the Ellie he knew, the one who could do it all, who held a wall between herself and him, between herself and a relationship because she had to protect her daughter above everything else. “I couldn’t afford that second.”

  Dalton had the words he wanted. He had the emotion he wanted. And he had the heroine he wanted.

  But she was here, in the flesh, and no longer on his page.

  Ellie had gone downstairs to make them some toast, leaving Dalton to write, but he found his fingers wouldn’t work. He stared at the screen, and thought about what Ellie had said. How much she’d opened her heart to him.

  While he’d sat here and kept his own closed. He’d had his opening—he could have told her why he, too, knew all about hugs that could never be given, words that could never be said.

  But he’d chosen only to speak that one lame sentence instead.

  He had better avoidance tactics than a covert military operation. Which was exactly why he closed his book file and opened his e-mail program instead. So he could avoid some more. Boy, had he perfected that technique.

  “Your breakfast, sir,” Ellie said, placing a plate with two pieces of toast, topped with hearty slices of cheddar cheese.

  After he thanked her, she took a piece off her plate, then turned away, wandering his office, looking at the titles on his shelf. “I only have a few more minutes. Then I have to get Sabrina up and ready for the day. I definitely have to go in to work today. It’s our mandatory Thursday morning production meeting, so no playing hooky or calling in sick to help you write.” She paused and turned to face him. “Actually, that’s what I came over to talk to you about last night. I know you had offered to babysit Sabrina for only a day or two, until I found someone else, but do you mind watching Bri until whenever Mrs. Winterberry gets back? I mean, I know it’s a lot to ask, and I wouldn’t even be asking it if the babysitter thing hadn’t been such a debacle last night, but—”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “Really? I thought I’d have to beg you.” She smiled. “I can offer you unlimited dinners for the rest of your life.”

  The words “rest of your life” seemed to bounce off the walls of his room. Images of her sleeping on his couch, waking up in his house, filling his coffee mug, flitted through his mind. He could have that—

  If he was that kind of guy.

  For the first time in his life, Dalton wondered—could he be that kind of man? Had enough years passed, had he changed enough that maybe…

  He shrugged off the thought. It wasn’t like he could experiment with Ellie, and say, “Hey, let’s give this a whirl. I’m not so sure I’m cut out for this kind of life, but let’s try.” What if he wasn’t ready? What if he was terrible at commitment?

  What if he let her down as badly as he had Julia?

  Better to stay uninvolved and let Ellie find someone else, even if the thought of Ellie in another man’s arms made Dalton want to crush a car in half. “You can still make the dinners,” Dalton said. “I won’t turn them down. Bologna wears on you after a while.”

  “Deal.” She smiled, and it seemed like Dalton’s entire world righted itself.

  Oh, he was in trouble. He kept wrapping himself tighter around this woman, a woman who deserved everything—and he had nothing to give.

  A ping sounded, announcing new e-mails. Like being saved by the bell, Dalton took the opportunity to return to his desk. He scrolled through the few dozen messages, until he got to the one he’d been both dreading and expecting. Reuben’s. Dalton clicked on the message, and it sprang open, displaying only six words.

  THIS IS BRILLIANT! GIVE ME MORE!

  Dalton jumped out of his chair, as excited as he’d felt the day he’d gotten the call from his agent, telling him he’d sold his first book. “Yes!”

  “What? What happened?” Ellie asked.

  He spun toward her, and grabbed her by the waist, hauling Ellie to him. “He loved it. My editor loved the new pages. You know, the ones I fixed after we worked on them? I sent them over to him yesterday.”

  “He did? Oh, Dalton, that’s wonderful!”

  “And I have you to thank. If it wasn’t for you, Ellie, I wouldn’t have been able to turn those pages from bad to…‘brilliant,’ as Reuben called them.”

  “Well, I’m sure—”

  “No, you were the key, Ellie. You.” Then he became acutely aware of her body against his, of the feel of her in his arms. Of how sharing his joy had become something much more.

  Something much sweeter. Something he should be avoiding, something he’d vowed to avoid during those sleepless hours last night, but knew he couldn’t stay away from her any more than he could avoid eating or drinking or breathing. Time slowed, the world closing in to just the two of them.

  “Thank you,” Dalton said, his voice low and gruff, his mouth drifting closer to hers with each syllable.

  “You’re…welcome.”

  Her eyes were deep, dark pools that drew him in, held him tight. Called to him in a way nothing else ever had. “You know, I don’t know if words are enough.” He leaned down, and stopped resisting the urges pounding in his brain—and kissed her.

  She responded in an instant, curving tighter against him. Her arms went around his back, as if trying to narrow a non-existent gap. Her breasts arched against his chest, and the flame that had been a backyard firepit became an all-out inferno.

  Dalton tangled his hands in Ellie’s hair, lifting the dark brown tresses with his fingers, letting them slip through his fingers, a silky mahogany waterfall. Then his palms drifted against her cheeks, the warm, soft skin that he had thought of, fantasized about, a thousand times since their last kiss. She’d become nearly the only thing he thought about. Wanted. Needed. Even if he knew he was all wrong for her.

  She was soft against him, a perfect fit for every part of him that had been lacking, filling in those dark recesses, those empty holes. The months, the years he’d spent in relationships that had gone nowhere, thinking he could live with this pit in his gut, never needing to fill it—

  He’d been wrong.

  His hands drifted down, sliding over her curves, along the soft fabric of her sweater, and the silky edges of her skirt. She let out a soft moan, and pressed even tighter to him, their kiss deepening, tongues exploring, tasting, teasing.

  Her kiss deepened, the hunger erupting in Ellie, one echoed by his body, multiplied by every taste of her lips, every caress of her skin. He cupped her jaw, and enjoyed every ounce of kissing Ellie Miller.

  Thoroughly.

  When Dalton finally drew back, leaving one last lingering kiss along Ellie’s lips, he knew one thing for sure.

  Saying goodbye to Ellie at the end of all this, and going back to being just neighbors who waved to each other across the expanse of fresh-cut grass on Saturday mornings or said hello over their mailboxes on Tuesday afternoons was going to be a hell of a lot harder than he’d ever thought.

  “Well, if that’s how you thank me for helping you with a few chapters, I can’t imagine what would happen if I helped with a whole book.” She smiled.

  He chuckled, then took a few steps back, giving both of them some distance. “Actually, I was wondering…”

  Ellie had crossed to his bookcase, as if the idea of distance appealed to her, too. “Wondering what?”

  “What would you think about making this temporary
arrangement a little more permanent?”

  A look of panic filled her face. It took Dalton a second to realize why, then he replayed his words in his head. “Oh, no, I meant permanent in the way of you working for me. Your help was invaluable. I don’t know if I can finish the revisions without your help. So I’d like to offer you a job.”

  “A job? Doing what?”

  “Exactly what you did the other day, and this morning. You help me write the emotional scenes, then you read them over, tell me where I’ve gone wrong, and give me pointers on how to strengthen my female characters.”

  She was shaking her head before he even finished the sentence. “I can’t quit my job. I need to pay my bills—”

  “I don’t know if I can pay you exactly what you make now, but considering you won’t be commuting or needing so much childcare, it should work out to about the same.”

  “I need my health insurance—”

  “I’ll put you on my plan. Believe it or not, but back when my career was doing well, I made a lot of money, and I was smart enough to put it aside. I can afford this, Ellie.”

  “We’ve only worked together once. You have no idea if this would last.” She broke away from him, pacing his office, as nervous as a tiger in a cage. “I can’t just up and quit my job over that.”

  “What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “What’s the worst? I could throw my entire life into turmoil for something that doesn’t work out. You don’t get it, Dalton. I’m a single mother.” Ellie stopped pacing and patted her chest. “I don’t make decisions anymore on a whim.”

  He moved to the bookcase, leaning an elbow on the shelf, and waiting until her gaze met his. “But you used to, didn’t you?”

  “A million years ago, sure. Who doesn’t?”

  “True.”

  Hadn’t he? Made stupid decisions on the spur of the moment?

  And hadn’t some of those decisions led to monumental regrets?

  Regrets that still weighed on him every night when he was alone and thought about other paths his life could have taken. Regrets that told him he should have made better choices. Been a better man when he was younger.

  “I understand your fears. But I need you, Ellie. I’ve tried everything short of starting sacrifices in my backyard to get my writing back on track, and here you come along, read some pages, say a few words, and wham—it’s like I’ve found the magic cure.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t take those kinds of changes, I just can’t.”

  “Even if it means you could be with Sabrina every day. Working at home? Instead of leaving her here like you have to today?” He closed the space between them, peering into her eyes, trying to see past the wall she had up, a passel of bricks filled with fears and doubts, and cemented together by a thick independent streak. “With writing, you can make a difference, touch a reader’s life.”

  “How?”

  “The words you put on the page, the issues you choose to tackle. That kidnapping book, it generated so much reader mail, I almost couldn’t answer it all.” He saw Ellie consider his words, and knew she was thinking back over what they had worked on so far, thinking about the characters they had created together, and picturing the way the book might touch a reader. “Most of all, if you worked with me, you’d be here, with Sabrina. Isn’t this exactly what you’ve always wanted to be doing, spending every day with her?”

  He saw her sharp inhale of breath and knew he’d offered up the trump card she couldn’t resist. She glanced past him, at the second bedroom across the hall, where her daughter lay sleeping, and in her eyes, he saw her torn between the life she had and the life she could have—

  If only she’d take a chance on Dalton.

  A bet even Dalton Scott wasn’t so sure he’d make.

  Ellie had just been handed everything she’d ever wanted on a silver platter.

  The problem?

  It came attached to Dalton Scott, a man who turned her world upside down and inside out every time she came within ten feet of him.

  Oh, she could handle working at home, she could handle a change in jobs, she was sure. And he was right, she could definitely see where writing books could hold the kind of touch-the-world work she’d wanted back in college, unlike her current job. But a change from the busy TV station with lots of people to the quiet house with the loner, hermit-like writer—

  That was a whole other kind of change.

  Not to mention every time she got near Dalton, she didn’t think about jobs or earning a living or paying bills, she thought about kissing him. Not exactly a good way to keep that mortgage payment in the bank or food in the refrigerator.

  For the first time in weeks, she was grateful for the mandatory Thursday production meeting in Lincoln’s office, one no one was allowed to miss, not unless “they were dead or in the process of a dismemberment”—Lincoln’s words. The time at the office gave Ellie a good excuse to leave Dalton’s house for a couple of hours, along with avoiding an answer to Dalton’s job offer. Sabrina had stayed behind with Dalton, who had assured Ellie he’d be just fine getting the baby to play and go down for her morning nap.

  “There you are,” Connie said when Ellie got off the elevator. “The invisible woman.”

  “Sorry. At least I made it in time for the Thursday production meeting.”

  “Oh, I forgot to call you!” Connie said. “Lincoln canceled it.” She leaned in, an inquisitive look on her face. “What have you been saying to the man lately? He’s been…decisive. That is so not him.”

  Ellie laughed. “I got tired of going to meetings every five minutes, and when I wasn’t at Lincoln’s beck and call, I told him to make decisions on his own.”

  Connie raised a hand in a high-five gesture. “Good for you. It’s about time somebody made him grow up.”

  Ellie laughed and slapped Connie’s palm. “Just doing my job, and apparently pulling off a minor miracle in the process.”

  “Well, good thing you did. You’re invaluable around here, El. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

  “I’ve been hearing that from all sides today.”

  Connie took a seat on the edge of her desk and gave Ellie a knowing smile. “From the look on your face, I’d say the other person telling you that is an M-A-N.”

  Ellie felt her face heat. Geez. What was she, in sixth grade again? “He’s a guy, but he’s just my neighbor.”

  “Just a neighbor, huh?” Connie grinned. She reached behind her head and readjusted her red curls into the jaw clip holding her hairdo up. “Is he cute?”

  “I suppose. He’s tall. Dark-haired. Blue eyes.” Ellie shrugged. “If you go for that kind of thing.”

  “Hello, if you have a pulse, you do. And how do you know Mr. Wonderful?”

  “He’s babysitting Sabrina while Mrs. Winterberry is taking care of her sister. He makes Bri laugh. And he likes picnics. We went on one the other day, just the three of us.” She tried to bite back the smile working its way to her lips, but it came all the same. “He’s a writer.”

  “He’s sexy and he loves babies? Marry him now, Ellie, before the rest of the female population of Boston grabs him. And if he has a brother, hand him over, because I could sure use a good man, or even a half-decent one.”

  She was not going to discuss dating Dalton Scott and definitely not going to discuss marrying Dalton Scott. Ellie pulled her planner out of her bag and started flipping through the pages. “Tomorrow morning we shoot our first segment for next week’s show. Are we all set for the guest? Did you confirm his appearance?”

  “Checked and double-checked. I ordered in the soda he likes to drink, and we’ll have those bagels he requested here a half hour before he arrives.”

  “Good. I’ll zip down to the studio and go over the lighting and camera angles with the director. And make sure the set is ready, too.”

  Connie laid a hand on Ellie’s arm. “It’ll all go fine, just like last week’s show. You can relax, you know.”


  “I’m sure it will. It’s my job to worry.”

  “I know, but…” Connie worried her bottom lip.

  “What?”

  “Never mind.” Connie waved her off. “I’m not even going to ask the question.”

  “Connie, you’ve known me the entire two and a half years I’ve worked here. You can ask me anything.”

  Connie let out a long breath, then gave Ellie’s hand a squeeze. “You look so stressed every time you come in here. I know you’re juggling a lot, and Lord knows I wouldn’t trade lives with you for all the corn in Indiana, but I guess what I’m wondering is…are you having fun? I mean, any job is worth it if you’re having fun.”

  “Fun?” Ellie let out a little laugh. She closed her planner, already worn so much the binding was threatening to break, and the year was only halfway over. “What’s that?”

  “Exactly, El. I think you stopped having fun about two promotions ago. And I’m not saying this to talk you out of working here, but I’d hate to see your whole life become about earning a paycheck. When I saw you talking about your neighbor and that picnic, I saw fun on your face, and I haven’t seen that in ages. I kind of got jealous.”

  “Oh, Connie, it was just a picnic, it didn’t mean anything.”

  “No, I mean, I realized I hate working here. It’s like being a lobster in a boiling pot and every time you try to escape, Lincoln slams the lid on again.” Connie smacked the desk to emphasize the point. “You made up my mind. I’m getting out the classifieds at lunch time.” She leaned forward. “Do you know what my degree is in? Art. I’m happy painting, not fetching coffee for Lincoln and sitting through another one of his tirades.”

  “Good for you,” Ellie said. “Hey, if any city is great for finding a job in art, Boston has to be it.”