Storybook Dad (Harlequin American Romance)

by Bradford, Laura

  When they reached the last classroom before the hallway that led to her office, she stepped inside and took a seat, gesturing for him to follow in his chair. “Mr. Walker, you already know it was that initial phone call you made to Trish last year that set the ball rolling to get our doors widened and that ramp put in place. And for that, we’re grateful. You see, I’m a big believer in helping people realize their dreams, and making our building accessible got us a little closer to doing that.”

  At Jed’s nod, she continued, motioning for a teary-eyed Trish in the doorway to join them for the rest of the surprise. “Anyway, I know you’d like to be able to do more than just wheel your way through a door and sit in on a few classes. And you should be able to, as should anyone else who’s confined to a wheelchair. So I sent out a call a few months ago to find an adventure instructor who is familiar with physical challenges.”

  Jed’s mouth gaped ever so slightly as he looked from Emily to Trish and back again. “And?”

  “When the ribbon-cutting ceremony is done, I’d like to introduce you to Peter Cummings. He’s a dynamite kid with some really great ideas and the know-how to implement them.”

  Her eyes began to burn at Jed’s obvious struggle for words. Unable to contain herself anymore, she took both his hands in hers and smiled. “And as for you, Mr. Walker? You’re the first name on my list for a scuba trip to Saint John this winter.”

  “Scuba?” he repeated in a voice thick with emotion.

  “That’s right. Scuba.” She looked toward the door once again and cleared her throat. Less than thirty seconds later, she was reengaging eye contact with Jed as Mark piloted Rose into the room. “And my mother-in-law, right here, will be on that trip, too. Seems the first five times she went diving weren’t enough.”

  Jed’s hands trembled in Emily’s, though his focus was on no one but Rose. “You’ve done it? You’ve been under the ocean like that?”

  The older woman’s smile lit up the room. “You bet I have. And in a few months, you’ll be able to say the very same thing.”

  Grateful and deeply moved, Emily released one of Jed’s hands in order to grab one of Rose’s. “Jed, you made me realize my vision for Bucket List 101 was lacking in one very important way. The changes you see here today have hopefully altered that. But I’ve learned something else, too. I’ve learned that doing things on my own is very different than doing them alone. And while you may have been right on the phone all those months ago when you reminded me that I came into this world alone and will leave it the same way, I have to tell you that all the time in between is so much better when you have someone you love and respect by your side. The key is finding someone who really sees you, regardless of whether you’re sitting, standing or somewhere in between.”

  * * *

  SHE WAS ROUNDING UP the last of the paper plates when Kate came bursting through the door with her four-month-old daughter, Lizzie, fast asleep in her carrier. “Oh, thank God. I was hoping the two of you would still be here.”

  Mark popped his head up from the corner where he was dismantling the PA system they’d rented for the ribbon-cutting ceremony, and laughed. “Was that your car that just came screeching into the parking lot a second ago?”

  “Nope. That was Miss Trish heading out. Which works perfectly, since I need to talk to the two of you alone.” Kate scanned the room and then poked her head into the hall. “Where’s Seth?”

  “He’s in my office drawing a picture.” Emily dumped the stack of dirty plates into the trash and made a beeline for Lizzie. “Am I ever going to get to see her when she’s awake?”

  “Come by around dinner or anytime during the night and you’ll see her wide-eyed and bushy-tailed.” At Mark’s snicker, Kate rolled her eyes. “You think I’m kidding?”

  “No. Actually, I don’t. Seth was like that, too, when he was that age.”

  Emily ran a gentle hand down her goddaughter’s leg as Mark and Kate swapped the kind of stories she’d never experienced. Not firsthand, anyway. And knowing what she now knew about the risk to her health if she became pregnant, they weren’t the kind of stories she’d ever be able to relate to. But that was okay. She’d come into Seth’s life at such an early age that she hadn’t missed too much.

  “Woo hoo? Earth to Emily! Come in, Emily.”

  At the sound of her name, she looked up to find both Mark and Kate gazing at her curiously. “I’m sorry, I guess I zoned out there for a minute.”

  Mark pulled up a chair next to her and draped his arm over her shoulders. “That’s okay, Em. You’ve more than earned yourself a little zone-out.”

  Kate sat on the table next to Lizzie’s carrier and got straight to the point. “So, have you made a decision?”

  From anyone else, the question would have been too much. But from Kate, it was okay. Normal, even. Taking a deep breath, Emily willed herself to choose her words wisely.

  “Having MS doesn’t mean I can’t have a child. We can. But in order to try, I’d have to stop my injections. If it worked, and we became pregnant, I’d have to stay off them throughout the duration of the pregnancy. Lots of women with my condition do it all the time. But a large percentage of them experience an acceleration of the disease within six months of giving birth.”

  Mark whispered a kiss across the side of her head as she continued. “If we didn’t already have Seth, I might be tempted to take the chance. But we do. And I want to be healthy for him and for Mark for as long as possible.”

  Kate covered her eyes with her palms.

  “Kate? Are you okay?” Mark asked.

  Slowly, she pulled her hands from her face and nodded. “I’m better than okay. In fact, I think I have some news that’ll blow your minds.”

  “Okay, shoot.”

  “Joe’s cousin called the other day. The two of you met him at one of our barbecues last spring. His eighteen-year-old daughter is pregnant, and she’s going to be giving her baby up for adoption as soon as it’s born.”

  “That’s too bad,” Mark murmured, tightening his hold on Emily.

  “Well, it is and it isn’t. You see, Reagan doesn’t want to be a mom right now. She’s one of those kids who has a life plan, and having a baby doesn’t figure on the list right now. She wants to go to college and travel before she even considers settling down and starting a family. The father has relinquished his rights already, and Reagan is ready to do the same, provided she can find a loving family for her little girl.”

  Mark sat up tall. “Little girl?”

  Kate grinned. “Yup. You interested?”

  Emily turned to Mark, their simultaneous “yes” eliciting a squeal from Kate and summoning Seth from the hallway.

  “Seth, is that you?” Mark called, buying Emily time to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

  “Yupper doodle. I have a picture for you and Memmy.”

  “Hi, Seth!” Kate said. “Come and say hi to Lizzie. Daddy and Memmy woke her up.”

  Seth hopped over to the baby, who rewarded his efforts with a smile. Smiling back at her, he held his picture up in front of his face and then peeked back and forth between Lizzie and his drawing.

  “Can I see your picture, Seth?” Kate asked.

  “Sure!’

  Kate’s eyes widened as she took the golden-hued paper from his hands. “Em? Mark? Uh, you might want to check this out.”

  Together, they stood and came around the table, their son’s latest artistic efforts making everyone gasp.

 
There, on the paper, was Seth’s version of Emily and her prince. Only in his drawing, there were two additional faces.

  The first, a little boy, looked just like Seth. Right down to the Sunshine Yellow hair and the same eye color as the prince. In his arms was a baby girl with Strawberry Banana hair and Emerald Green eyes....

  Emily turned to Mark, unable to form the question he was able to ask.

  “What is this, little man?”

  “It’s the next picture for Memmy’s wall.”

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt of The Cowboy Soldier’s Son by Tina Leonard!

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  Chapter One

  We are such stuff as dreams are made on.

  —Shakespeare’s The Tempest

  Shaman Phillips wasn’t expecting a blonde bombshell to show up at the front door of the Dark Diablo farmhouse, but one glance at her shapely legs, long silky hair and beautiful face made him believe tonight might be a lucky night for a lone wolf. “Hello,” he said. “Can I help you?”

  “Hi.”

  Shaman decided the voice of an angel went with her amazing looks. She was way out of his league—and yet even a man with scars liked to gaze at beautiful things.

  “I’m looking for Chelsea Myers.”

  “Ah. The Chelsea Myers who married my brother Gage in July. She’s Chelsea Phillips now.” Shaman leaned forward, out of the doorway, planting his well-worn boots on the porch. “They live at the Callahan place, Rancho Diablo, in Diablo.”

  The goddess stepped closer, her high fire-engine-red heels clicking on the wood porch. “My name is Tempest Thornbury. I met Chelsea and Cat in July, before I returned to Italy.” She held up a small Louis Vuitton bag, complete with tufts of tissue paper coming out the top. Shaman knew what Louis Vuitton was; his sister, Kendall, was a huge fan. “I brought this for Cat. Is there a possibility you could give it to her?”

  “Come on in,” Shaman said, tamping down the wolflike tendencies fighting inside him. “I’ll get their address and you can send it to her. It’d probably be quicker. I never know when I’ll see them, now that the school year has started.”

  Tempest smiled. “Thank you.”

  Shaman went to get the address, and she followed him into the house. He handed her a piece of paper. “Cat started school in the middle of August in Diablo. She’s real happy there.”

  “I’m so glad.”

  He decided his visitor was even more beautiful close up. The hot-red suit fit her curves to perfection. She didn’t wear a wedding ring or jewelry, just some gold hoop earrings that kissed her cheeks.

  “She’s a sweet girl,” Tempest added.

  Shaman nodded, suddenly uncomfortable and not sure why. His first thought was to seduce this angel—what man could resist?—but she was too perfect for him. How dumb was that?

  Ten years in the military, most of them spent in Iraq and Afghanistan, might have left him hungry for female companionship, but it had also left him with scars on his back, a chunk missing from his shoulder and a red slash across his sun-browned cheek. He was lucky those were his only visible scars. Many of his buddies hadn’t fared so well.

  A little less perfection in a woman would suit him better. “Sorry I couldn’t be more help.”

  Tempest smiled and turned on her heel. “I was hoping to see Cat and Chelsea, but I suppose they won’t be back until the semester is over?”

  “Can’t say.” He wasn’t familiar with Cat’s routine. “Chelsea and Gage just announced that they’re expecting a baby, so I don’t know how often Chelsea will be out here.”

  Tempest glanced back at him, looking pleased. “That’s wonderful! I’m glad to hear it.” She opened the front door before he could do so. “I didn’t get your name?”

  “Shaman Phillips.” He held the door for her, and as she walked out, caught a tease of a light flowery perfume. “You staying in Tempest, Tempest?” He grinned. “I didn’t realize you were named after the town.”

  She leaned into him, catching him off guard. “It’s a stage name. My real name is Zola Cupertino.”

  His brain tried to process that information, along with the distracting fact that she was dangerously close to him. And he didn’t think it was an accident. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she—

  “Soldier...” Tempest murmured.

  “Yes, ma’am?” he said, out of habit. She must have seen his military bag, and his combat boots in the living room.

  “I just got off a plane from Italy,” she announced. “I wonder if you might be interested in taking me out to dinner?”

  He blinked. “Certainly,” he said, trying to be chivalrous and not sound as surprised as he was by her unexpected invitation.

  She smiled at him, a sweet, slow, sexy smile, her angelic eyes free of artifice, but holding a silent plea. Maybe he didn’t want to see it. But she was still standing oh-so-close to him, and the next thing he knew, he’d taken the statuesque blonde in his arms and was kissing her like a dying man.

  She kissed him back hungrily.

  “Wait a second,” Shaman said. He was a lucky guy, but not this lucky. Angels didn’t just drop from the sky into his hard-edged world. “How did you say you know Gage and Chelsea?”

  “Met them this summer. Don’t stop what you’re doing, soldier.”

  He kissed her again, his mind trying to find the hook in the sweet deal she seemed to be offering him. She could have any guy in the world. Why would she choose him, instead of running from the sight of his scar-streaked face?

  What the hell. A man didn’t get too many gifts in life, and if this angel wanted to fly into his arms, he needed to quit acting like a skittish horse. “Hey, you want that dinner or not?” he asked, giving her one last chance to back away.

  “After,” she murmured, melting into him.

  He carried her to his bedroom, taking his sweet time, being careful with the soft suit and delicate white camisole. Her bra and panties were angel-wing white and breathlessly lacy, the kind that didn’t do much for support but everything for a man’s libido. Keeping the lights low, he whispered to her in soothing tones, expecting at any moment for her to tell him she wanted out of his bed. But she let him do whatever he wanted to her, and she was sweet like he’d never tasted sweet before.

  And when he finally entered her, Shaman thought he’d died and gone to some magical place he’d never known existed. In all the dirty, lonely nights he’d been scared out of his wits—and he’d been plenty scared, tough guy or not—he’d fantasized about a woman. Any woman. A soft, sweet woman to take away the pain.

  This woman was a velvet-soft gift from the gods, and whatever he’d done to deserve this time with her, Shaman wanted the moment to last forever.

  Tempest cried his name, and he lost himself in her. She grabbe
d at his shoulders, and he didn’t even think about his wounds or his scars. He held her and kissed her, savoring her like a treasure.

  Then they slept—maybe for an hour; he wasn’t certain. A glance out the window showed a moon that was huge and high in the sky. Getting out of bed, he said, “Let me shower. I’ll take you for that dinner.”

  She smiled at him in the moonlight. “Thanks, soldier.”

  Afraid to keep the lady waiting, he took the world’s fastest shower, dressing like a madman. Yet he wasn’t all that surprised when he came out and all that was left on the bed was the little Louis Vuitton bag, and a note that read, “Just remembered I have a meeting in town. Rain check for the dinner? Tempest.”

  He grunted. She’d signed the note as if it was an autograph for a book or a photo. “A meeting,” he muttered. Shaman glanced at the note again, massively disappointed. Rain check.

  I’ll just bet.

  * * *

  “WHO IS HE?” Tempest asked her dearest friends, Shinny and Blanche Tuck, after they’d hugged each other. It was so good to be here, in the Ice Cream Shoppe where she’d spent so many happy hours. The couple had been parents of sorts, shepherding her through difficult times as a child. Shinny could always be counted on to give her one of his delicious “specials,” a frothy chocolate milkshake she’d adored as a kid. Now she knew he’d simply been trying to put meat on her scrawny bones, but back then she’d thought she was the luckiest girl in the world when he gave her the scrumptious treats.

  Shinny and Blanche sat across from her in the lipstick-red booth. The store was closed, and soon they’d go home. But for now they were enjoying catching up.