Needed: One Dad

by Jeanne Allan

  “But it’s Emilie Pink.” Amusement tinged his voice. Recapturing her hands, he imprisoned them in one of his above her head. With his other hand he dragged the paint can nearer.

  Her frontless shirt gaped completely open. “You’ll be sorry!” Addy gasped as Sam smeared a handful of cold paint on her upper chest.

  “No, I won’t.” Sam laughed softly. “This is fun.”

  Addy sucked in half the air in the room as he spread the paint, warming it with his outspread palm. She didn’t stand a chance fighting against the hard body pinning her to the floor. Maybe refusing to struggle further would ruin Sam’s fun, and he’d quit torturing her. Turning her head away, she closed her eyes.

  Shutting out Sam’s laughing face failed to make him go away. The heavy masculine thighs laying on hers heated her lower regions. Her breathing grew rapid and shallow as Sam rubbed on paint in ever-larger circles, his hand moving slower and slower. Friction between his palm and her skin warmed her blood, sending it pulsing through her body. “Squirting,” Addy muttered, in a desperate attempt to replace one image with another. “Like mustard.”

  Sam gave a low laugh. “Pouring.” Sensual awareness edged the softly spoken word.

  A cold rivulet of paint ran between Addy’s breasts. Tickling her. A sensation of a different sort replaced the tickling sensation as Sam trailed the tiny river of paint with his finger.

  “I never finger-painted as a kid.” He pushed aside Addy’s bra and circled her breast with his finger. “I didn’t know what I was missing.”

  Electricity sizzled through her body. Addy’s eyelids shot open. Sam wore a look of total absorption as, with slow deliberation, he painted the tip of her breast. Addy’s stomach rioted. She forgot how to breathe.

  “That looks like fun. Can I play?” Emilie’s chirping voice came from the bedroom door.

  “I think only two can play the game Sam and Addy are playing.” Hannah’s voice couldn’t have been dryer.

  Sam released Addy’s hands and rolled off her, but horror kept her pinned to the floor.

  “Your sense of timing is impeccable, as always, Grandmother. Or did Adeline send an invisible signal summoning you?” .

  The chill in his voice raised goose bumps on Addy’s bare flesh. His outrageous implication ignited her temper and destroyed her good sense. Covering herself as best she could with the remnants of her shirt, Addy sat up and tossed porcelain smiles around the room. “Sam’s right. Your timing is wonderful, Hannah. You can be the first to congratulate us. Sam just asked me to marry him, and I said yes. Emilie, say hello to your new daddy.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  “DADDY?” Emilie asked in an uncertain voice. “What do you mean, Addy? Is Sam my daddy?”

  “He wouldn’t really be your daddy.” Addy avoided looking at Hannah. “Do you remember me explaining, since your mama is in heaven, I’m your substitute mama?” When Emilie nodded, Addy went on. “Since we don’t know your daddy, the man I marry will be your substitute daddy, the same way I’m your substitute mama.”

  Emilie smiled shyly at Sam. “You gonna be my substitute daddy, Sam?”

  “Ask your aunt. She’s the one with the convenient answers.”

  The curt words wiped the smile from Emilie’s face. “Sam’s yelling at me.”

  “That’s the first thing you have to learn about men, Emilie,” Hannah said briskly. “They tend to yell when they’re not sure what’s going on.”

  “I know exactly what’s going on,” Sam snarled.

  “See what I mean?” Hannah took Emilie’s hand and turned her away from the door. “Let’s go fix ourselves a root beer float and plan the wedding. Sam and Addy need to clean up.”

  Their voices had barely disappeared down the staircase before Sam turned on Addy. “Very clever, Ms. Johnson. Do not make the mistake, however, of thinking I’ll marry you.”

  He’d made the mistake. From the moment of his arrival Sam Dawson had gone out of his way to disrupt and ruin her life. Not once had he considered anyone’s concerns but his own. He didn’t care if Addy lost custody of Emilie. All he cared about was his own selfish, bachelor status. A status he was about to lose. Through his own self-centered actions.

  Addy aimed a dreamy, vacant smile in the vicinity of his right ear. “Emilie will make an adorable flower girl in a dress of Emilie Pink polished cotton. I can whip up one on the sewing machine. I’ll wear my grandmother’s wedding dress. What kind of flowers do you think I should carry?”

  “Did you hear me? I am not marrying you.” Frustration ran grittily through his voice.

  “Of course you are,” Addy said reasonably. “How could you possibly refuse after you ripped off my clothes and assaulted me on my bedroom floor? I’m thoroughly compromised since you were seen painting my half-nude body by your eighty-year-old grandmother whose total sexual activity before her marriage probably consisted of a few chaste kisses, and by my four-year-old niece who will certainly entertain her contemporaries at play group with all the fun details.”

  “Don’t exaggerate,” he retorted. “Men don’t marry women because they were seen kissing them. I’d like to remind you who started this fiasco by smearing me with paint.”

  “I dabbed a little bit of paint on you. I didn’t force you to rip off my clothes. I didn’t make you kiss me.”

  “I admit I find you intriguing and sexually attractive.” With an expression of distaste he picked up the discarded piece of Addy’s shirt and wiped paint from his fingers. “But building a successful marriage takes more than a mutual urge to copulate.”

  Addy’s face flamed. “I don’t have any such urge.”

  “You fake it well.” Ignoring her indignant sputtering, he added, “Adeline, you can announce all you want that I asked you to marry me. But I didn’t. And I won’t.”

  “You don’t have to announce it.” Deliberately misunderstanding him, Addy bared her teeth in a parody of a smile. “I think it’s safe to say our engagement has already been announced. I’ll bet Hannah is on the phone to your mother right now. If you didn’t bring a suit, you’ll have to buy one. Naturally I’ll want to get married before you return to Boston.”

  “I am returning to Boston.” Sam spit the words from between clenched teeth. “Alone. In a little over a week. You have until then to straighten out this mess.”

  “I don’t think it’s such a mess.”

  “You will,” he said grimly, “by the time I get through with you. One week,” he repeated, “to make crystal clear to my grandmother I did not and will not ask you to many me.” Sam strode from the room, rage pouring from every inch of his body.

  Addy hoped he saw himself quivering like a deer in the spotlight with a target painted on his backside. When he calmed down enough to use those brilliant brain cells he was supposed to be overendowed with, he’d see he brought the whole mess on himself. Him and his selfish, egotistical plan to teach his mother and grandmother a lesson.

  He’d sealed his fate when he’d accused Addy of conspiring with his grandmother so Hannah would catch them in the act of whatever. For a man with a Ph.D., Sam Dawson possessed the brain of an amoeba. Any idiot could have seen the unexpected appearance of Hannah and Emilie at the bedroom door had totally stunned and embarrassed Addy.

  Any idiot but one who possessed an ego the size of Pikes Peak. The nerve of him believing she’d set him up to catch him in a compromising position. He was the one always preaching they lived in the modern world. Women didn’t play those kinds of games, if they ever had, which she doubted. She’d set out to find a husband, but she’d always intended to be honest with her potential bridegroom. Who wanted to marry a man she had to trick into marriage? Not Adeline Johnson.

  At least, she hadn’t. She might not feel so vengeful if he’d demonstrated the slightest bit of contrition over sabotaging her dates and harming her plans. Which he hadn’t. She wasn’t about to risk losing Emilie because Samuel Dawson played juvenile games. The man was supposed to be a grown-up. He should be able
to deal with his mother and his grandmother on an adult level.

  The sun slid behind the towering hillside, and shadows crept in to cover the floor and steal warmth from the air. Addy’s muscles refused to move. She dreaded facing Hannah. Sam’s face must have informed his grandmother Addy’s announcement of their upcoming nuptials came as a complete surprise to him. Addy pushed aside speculation on Hannah’s thoughts when the older woman had walked into the bedroom, and reminded herself humiliation paled beside the worries about Emilie.

  Worries intensified by Sam’s actions. Shunting aside her fears, Addy focused on her anger. Anger gave her strength to go toe to toe with Sam Dawson. Making the decision to marry for Emilie’s sake had been difficult enough. Forcing herself to actively seek out single men for the purpose of matrimony had taken every ounce of courage she possessed. All for naught. Thanks to one selfish, overbearing, so-called genius.

  Sam Dawson ranted and raved about logic and reason. Logic and reason said Sam Dawson owed Addy a husband. She’d darned well tell his grandmother he did. After she cleaned up the painting mess and showered.

  “Congratulations, dear. I know you and Sam will be as happy as Frank and I were.”

  Stunned, Addy looked up to see an ebullient Cora enter the crafts room. Belle and Phoebe followed her, adding their best wishes. Addy pinned an accusatory gaze on the woman bringing up the rear. “Hannah, I thought we agreed not to tell anyone.”

  “I changed my mind.” Hannah shut the door to the crafts room. “You can’t expect them to waste their time trying to match you up with someone if you’re planning to marry Sam.”

  “I certainly wouldn’t want anyone to waste time like I’ve been wasting it going out on these so-called dates you arranged.”

  “I’m sorry they haven’t worked out,” Phoebe said.

  “I’m sure they worked out just fine. Was Lois Carlson jealous enough to run back to Jim as you planned? I understand John Christain thought dating me would advance his career. Did you really think the much-married hippie, Perry Wilson and I would make the perfect couple? Did Tom Erickson plan to bring his almost fiancée along when he took me out?”

  “What kind of allegations are you making?” Phoebe asked slowly. “Admittedly I debated if it was too early for Jim to start dating, but I finally selected him because he’s proven himself a good father. Yes, Perry Wilson, has been married twice, but he’s hardly a hippie. He sells natural foods and vitamins and told Cora he wants to start a family.”

  “I know Tom Erickson loves kids and if he’s dating anyone special I hadn’t heard about her,” Hannah said. “As for John Christain, the rest of us objected, but Belle insisted since we’d made our choices with Emilie in mind, she thought someone ought to consider your needs. She thought you’d find him fun.”

  “I said you’d find him sexy,” Belle said.

  “Why did you think we were playing tricks on you, dear?”

  Addy shuffled her feet. “Sam said you were.”

  “That settles it.” Hannah shook her head. “I couldn’t sleep last night, thinking about this. I knew you’d have a few minutes before your puppet class while Emilie takes dance, so I told everyone to meet here. We need to plan the wedding.”

  Addy hadn’t slept much, either. What had seemed completely reasonable in the heat of anger had glittered like fool’s gold in the cold light of dawn. She couldn’t force Sam Dawson to marry her. Sleepless hours of brain-twisting turned up one solution. She had to run away. Pack up Emilie, change their names and move somewhere no one, not even a rich slimebag, could ever find them. Looking around the table at the four women who’d befriended her, her throat swelled with tears. “Thank you, but there’s not going to be a wedding.”

  “If it’s a question of money, forget it,” Belle said breezily. “Cora has plenty of blooms in her garden for your bouquet and the altar. I’ll arrange the reception at the hotel, and Phoebe is in charge of invitations and that sort of thing. All you have to do is show up and look beautiful.”

  The ladies smiled with the satisfaction of plans well-laid.

  Addy fought for composure. “No, I can’t. You can’t.”

  Four pairs of eyes filled with distress. Phoebe spoke first. “We know you don’t want charity, Addy, but what we’re discussing isn’t charity at all.”

  “It’s our way of thanking you,” Hannah added.

  “We’d fallen into the trap of feeling sorry for ourselves because we felt old and useless,” Belle said. “You came along and bullied us into taking crafts classes and getting involved here at the center. Now, between us, we tutor at the elementary school, teach bridge classes, give cooking lessons, and volunteer at the health clinic. Phoebe even started a ladies’ investment club. You showed us we can still be useful and productive even if we have gray hair and a few arthritic twinges.”

  “Belle’s right, dear. We want to give something back to you.” Cora’s face clouded over. “I see what it is, dear. Every girl dreams of the wedding she wants. We shouldn’t have tried to force our wedding plans on you.”

  Embarrassment, gratitude, and the knowledge she didn’t deserve their friendship overwhelmed Addy. “That’s not it.” She forced the words past the painful lump in her throat. “You’re all wonderful, and I know if there was going to be a wedding and you planned it, it would be beautiful, but there isn’t going to be a wedding. Sam doesn’t want, that is, Sam and I aren’t getting married.”

  “That’s not what you said last night,” Hannah said.

  “I know,” Addy said distractedly. “I don’t know what I was thinking. Ever since Sam arrived, my whole life has spun out of control. I’m sorry, Hannah, but he drives me crazy.”

  “You certainly haven’t been the same since Sam blew into town.” Belle’s dark eyes gleamed from behind her rhinestone eyeglass frames. “Everyone’s heard about the yelling match here the other day.” Her red-lipsticked mouth twitched. “Hannah told us what happened in your bedroom. My husband Al would have loved painting my nipples pink.”

  “Think about the mess, dear,” Cora frowned. “If you were in bed, the sheets would be ruined. And rolling about on the floor as Addy and Sam did... We had carpeting in our bedroom.”

  Addy turned fiery red. “Hannah!”

  “They wanted to know how you two came to be engaged.”

  “I still say what Sam and Addy do in the privacy of their bedrooms is their own business,” Phoebe said reprovingly.

  “We’re not doing anything!” Addy identified with Alice falling down the rabbit’s hole.

  Eight raised eyebrows wordlessly questioned Addy’s statement.

  “Don’t worry, Addy,” Hannah said. “I’ll make sure Samuel behaves as a gentleman and marries you.”

  “No. It was my fault. I made it up about us getting married. I never should have said anything.”

  Hannah gave Addy a grim smile. “That’s sweet of you to take the blame, but not necessary. If Samuel refuses to go through with the wedding, I’ll tell him he’ll never ever again be allowed to darken my doorstep.” Building up steam, she elaborated on her grievance. “The idea. My own grandson seducing my friend in my house and then refusing to make an honest woman of her. I’m so ashamed.” She shook her head. “I’ll have to call his mother. Jo Jo will be distraught. Samuel may think he’s a grown man, but his parents will have something to say about his dastardly behavior, believe you me.” Hannah bowed as her three friends rose to their feet and applauded loudly. “I may be old, but I still know the difference between right and wrong.”

  “Hannah, please,” Addy implored. “I don’t want to marry Sam.”

  “Bridal jitters, dear. The night before I married Frank I almost ran away from home.” Cora smiled wistfully. “That was so long ago. Sometimes I envy you young girls with a lifetime of love and laughter ahead of you. You’re so lucky, dear.”

  Addy grabbed the roll of paper towel from the table and blew her nose, all the while shaking her head. “Not getting married,” she mumble
d, and blew again. “Not.”

  “You told them what?”

  Addy winced at Sam’s explosive shout. “You heard me. I said it happened so fast, we decided to wait awhile to see if it was the real thing. You’d go back to Boston, and we’d see if time and distance changed our feelings for each other.”

  Storm clouds darkened Sam’s face. “Mine sure as hell aren’t going to change.”

  “What did you expect me to say? That you’re a stupid jerk, and I wouldn’t marry a man with your outsized ego and spiteful ways if you held a loaded gun at my head?”

  “Does that mean you’ve had a change of opinion since last night?” Sam asked. “That I can count on you jilting me and breaking my heart?”

  “It would serve you right if I did insist you marry me. They had the wedding all planned. You’re lucky they hadn’t booked the church and mailed out the invitations. When I tried to explain we weren’t getting married, they blamed bridal jitters and lovers’ quarrels.”

  “I don’t suppose,” Sam said coldly, “you bothered to explain the one thing we aren’t is lovers.”

  “Hannah told them about the pink paint.” In spite of her resolve, heat painted her face every bit as pink. “And what you were doing with it.”

  “So to spare everyone’s maidenly blushes, you cravenly allowed them to continue in their delusional assumption you and I are what, engaged? I hope you’re not expecting me to buy you an expensive engagement ring. Or is a ring you can keep when we have our so-called breakup the price of my freedom? Forget it. I don’t trust you, Ms. Johnson. A ring could be another trick to haul me one step closer to the altar.” He made two angry circuits of Addy’s sitting room before whirling to ask savagely, “Why me? There must be plenty of suckers who don’t object to purple walls or being used as an insurance policy.”

  “You scared them all away,” she said acidly.

  “The next time,” he said sourly, “it’s every man for himself.” His eyes narrowed. “Is that why you pulled this trick? Revenge because you think I ruined your chances? Hell, neither Carlson nor Christain had marriage with you on his mind.”