A Better Father (Harlequin Super Romance) (3 page)

Of course, if Myra was factoring the kid he used to be into the
equation, he was doomed.

* * *

L
IBBY
KEPT
HER
HEAD
HIGH
and nodded to Sam as she entered the office. He answered with a mock bow.
Cute.

“Sam, you left the door open. Please close it, and, Libby, sit
down, dear.” Myra waved toward the desk chair as if Libby hadn’t sat there every
working day for the past twelve years.

She perched on the edge of the seat so she was facing only
Myra. “There’s something I need to know,” she said before Myra could begin. “I
understand your position. You have to sell. But is this a done deal, or is there
time to make any modifications to the agreement?”

Myra’s chair creaked as she leaned back and gave Libby the
shrewd look that she knew meant they were probably thinking along similar
lines.

“That’s interesting. We were just discussing a further
condition of the sale.”

“So changes can still be made.” Libby gave a silent cheer.
Maybe, just maybe, she could save the camp. Saving her sanity would be an added
bonus.

Myra turned toward Sam, who returned her gaze for a second
before transferring his attention to Libby.

“What did you have in mind?”

He sounded bored. Good. Unless he’d changed more than most
humans do in a dozen years, that “couldn’t care less” attitude meant he was
worried.

“I think—” she began, but Myra cut her off with a raised
forefinger.

“I’m so sorry, dear, but might I go first? There’s something
I’d like to ask of you.”

“Of course. Anything.” Libby grasped a handful of skirt fabric
on her thigh and gave it an impatient squeeze.

“I think that the sooner I can move on, the better it will be
for everyone. Nothing will be served by me doddering around here like the ghost
of summers past, confusing everyone as to who is now in charge.”

Libby’s head swam as the implications of the sale came clear.
Not only was she losing the camp, she was losing Myra. This time she didn’t care
if Sam saw the tears pooling in her eyes.

“It won’t be right without you,” she said. “I can’t imagine...
I don’t want to think about it without you.”

“I will miss you. The whole camp, of course, but especially you
and...” Myra’s voice faltered and she glanced out the window again. Not in the
direction of the river this time, but down the hill. Toward the dining hall.

After a second she shook her head, blinked a couple of times
and gave Libby a very unsteady smile. “Well. We’ll adjust. Both of us. We’re
strong old broads, aren’t we?”

“Better than life has dealt us,” Libby answered, paraphrasing
words Myra had said to her more than once. Myra laughed, and Libby forced
herself to join in, reminding herself that moments like this would soon be
gone.

An odd sound from the side of the room, something between a
cough and a choke, dragged her attention back to Sam. She turned instinctively
in his direction and caught him staring at her with an expression that could
only be described as disbelief. Almost as if he’d seen a ghost.

As soon as she caught his eye he looked away and shook his
head. A moment later he was leaning forward, focused on Myra once more. She must
have felt his attention because she sighed, then returned to business.

“I want the transition to be as smooth as possible. For
everyone,” Myra added with a nod toward Sam. “And, Libby, dear, the fact is that
the camp needs someone with your qualifications to operate by the book. So it
would do my heart good if you could see your way clear to stay on here, at least
through the summer.”

Stay? With
him?
Dear heavens, had
Myra taken complete leave of her senses? If she thought for one minute that
Libby could exist anywhere in the same town—no, the same province—as the man in
the corner, well, she—

Oh.

Her earlier, sketchy thoughts about adding a condition to the
sale took on a clearer, tighter focus. She could work with this. She could
use
this.

“Yes,” she said to Myra. “Of course I’ll stay through the
summer. For you.” She took a deep breath, buying herself time. “But I do have a
couple of requests of my own.”

Myra cocked an eyebrow. Over in the corner, Sam grabbed the
arms of the sofa. Bracing himself, no doubt.

Libby grabbed the clipboard and looked over the notes she’d
jotted during her time of exile, mentally modifying them beyond the scribbled
list of impossible wishes that had filled her mind while she waited.

“I would strongly suggest that you add two conditions to the
sale. First, as you have said yourself, it’s vital for the owner to be a part of
the camp. Since Sam already plans to be here full-time, it should be easy for
him to participate fully in the program. I recommend that, as a condition of the
sale, he must take on the job of a regular staff member for this summer, acting
as a counselor while I teach him everything I can.”

Myra tapped her pencil on the blotter. Sam glowered. “What are
you pulling, Libby?”

“Pulling? Not a thing. I simply think that you’ve been gone for
a long time, and there have been many changes since you were last here. Rather
than jump in and try to learn all of them right away, it will be easier for you
to understand the new systems if you are a counselor, working within the
program.” She pretended to check her notes, then looked up with a broad smile.
“Of course you would be held to the same standards of conduct as any other
staff. Live in the cabins, time off according to the schedule, drug testing,
latrine duty and so on.”

A muscle twitched in his cheek. “And if I don’t obey all the
staff rules, who will punish me? You?”

Well, if he was looking for a volunteer...

Rather than answer him directly, she appealed to Myra. “You
have always followed the same rules as the counselors during the summer
sessions, haven’t you?”

A slight grimace played around the older woman’s mouth. “Well,
I must confess it’s been a long time since I’ve slept in the cabins. But yes,
I’ve done my share of latrine duty and dishes and craft house cleanup over the
summers. I wouldn’t have thought of suggesting it, but I believe it’s a good
idea. Working side by side with your staff lends a closeness and understanding
that can’t be duplicated.”

“Fine.” The scowl on Sam’s face told Libby that
fine
wasn’t his true sentiment. “I wasn’t planning to
spend the summer holed up in the office anyway, but if you think I need to lead
a group, fine. I’ll do it.”

Libby looked down at her clipboard, focusing on the sunlight
glinting off the silver clasp to keep Sam from seeing her grin. Mr. NHL was in
for the workout of his life. By the time she finished with him, he’d be crawling
back to the ice.

“But I’m living in the house,” he continued, folding his arms
across his chest. “Personal reasons.”

And what was that supposed to mean? She’d never heard anything
about him getting married, and a fast peek at his ring finger showed it to be
empty. Did he have a honey he planned to bring along with him? She sucked in a
hard breath. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. That would never do.

“Does this personal reason have a name?”

He stared at her as if she were a puzzle he needed to put
together, but wasn’t sure where to start. Then his eyes lit up in a way that
made her squirm with unease. A smile tugged at one corner of his mouth.

“Yes, actually.” He all but purred the words. “A very nice
name.”

Oh,
crap.
He was planning to
install a woman in his house.

Not that she cared. Sam Catalano had ceased to be anything but
a heartbreaking memory the day she called him in tears to tell him her world had
just fallen apart, and he hung up on her. To this day, the sound of a dial tone
could still make her stomach twist. If some other woman was idiot enough to want
Sam, she was more than welcome to him.

No, Libby’s concern was solely for the camp.

“Are you married?”

His lips thinned. “No.”

She clutched her clipboard. “Well, if this
personal reason
with the very nice name happens to be female, and
you’re not married, I strongly suggest you rethink your plan. Parents can be
very particular if they think their kids are being exposed to something they
consider unwholesome.”

Over in the corner, Myra coughed. Sam’s smile widened.

“Oh, don’t worry,” he said with far too much glee to trust. “I
know all about what parents want for their kids.”

Right. And she would be the one who ended up fielding the phone
calls from irate parents when Sam’s so-called knowledge backfired.

“You said you had two suggestions.” Sam’s too-casual words cut
into her indignation before it could reach full strength. “What’s the
other?”

She took her time in answering. “Well. It’s just a formality,
really. Shouldn’t be a problem for you, since you’ve already eased Myra’s mind
about your history of walking away from things.”

The sofa protested as he pushed upright. “Hey—”

She swiveled to face Myra, who watched their interplay with an
expression somewhere between bafflement and amusement. “In all honesty, I still
have concerns about Sam’s plans for the camp.”

“Ha. Thanks for stating the obvious, Lib.”

She ignored him and carried on. “I would hate to see Overlook
become just another plaything for him to use and discard—”

“Hey!”

“—or for him to ruin its reputation so it can become a
money-losing tax shelter.”

“Dammit, Libby, that’s not—”

“I’m speaking now, thank you, Sam.”

Guilt pricked at her heart when she saw the way Myra had
twisted her fingers together. She gentled her voice and leaned forward. “Make
him promise that he will continue to own it for at least three—no, five years.
If he decides to give it up for any reason, it goes back to you. Automatically.
No questions asked. And,” she added, thoughts of poor Esther in her mind, “you
don’t have to repay any of the money.”

Pink spots bloomed in Myra’s cheeks. “That hardly seems fair,”
she said. “Once it’s sold, it should be out of my hands. It doesn’t seem right
that I should—”

“No. Wait.” Sam rose from the depths of the sofa with a
smoothness that reminded Libby with a start that even though he had retired, he
was indeed still an athlete.

He crossed the room in two long strides and leaned over her,
hands braced on the arms of her chair, leaning forward so she couldn’t escape.
He surrounded her, hijacking her senses. Eyes as deeply brown as the richest
chocolate cake pinned her to the seat. The fresh scent of his aftershave tickled
her nose and spun her back through time, to clandestine embraces behind the
dining hall, stolen kisses beneath the dive raft, that last night when they had
spread a blanket beneath the moon and—

“I want to add a condition of my own.”

This close, his voice seemed to vibrate through her. She
tightened her fingers on the clipboard but refused to look away. Though, when
his gaze dropped to her lips and his own mouth quirked, she had one wild moment
of wondering what kind of condition he was going to impose.

“Here’s the deal.” His words might have been directed at Myra,
but his eyes never flickered away from her. “I
will
be here for at least five years. And I
will
take on
the duties of a counselor for the summer. But I’m not the only one who needs to
put her money where her mouth is, so to speak.”

He leaned closer. He seemed to be searching her face,
cataloging her every feature. Comparing her to the girl she used to be? Hunting
for some weakness? If so, he was out of luck. She knew him too well. There was
no way he could pull the wool over her eyes.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Samuel, you’re not playing hockey any
longer. Must you loom over my assistant like some hulking thing?”

Myra’s wry words brought an abrupt end to whatever game Sam was
playing. He straightened, slowly and deliberately, as if he was calculating his
actions to maximize the play of his muscles beneath his polo shirt.

Really. Yes, the man had great shoulders, and of course he
moved with a quick grace that proved why he’d been dubbed The Cat. But did he
have to put it on display?

“Libby says she’ll stay through the summer as a favor to you,
Myra. I believe she intends to do that. After all, she’s taken the first step,”
he said, echoing the words she’d tossed at him just a few minutes earlier.
“Libby, call me psychic, but I have this feeling you and I aren’t always going
to see eye to eye over the next few months.”

From the corner of her eye, Libby saw Myra cover her grin with
her hand.

“There might come a point when you decide you’ve had enough.
When, for reasons I can’t begin to imagine, you might decide you want to make me
suffer. There are plenty of ways you could do that.” He gave his pocket a quick
pat before resuming his pacing. “The easiest, of course, would be for you to
leave without notice.”

Libby jumped from her chair, anger pulling her muscles tight.
“You might find it easy to break a promise, Catalano, but I don’t. I told Myra I
would stay and that’s exactly what I will do.”

“Good.” He didn’t even bat an eye, which only amplified her
temper. “Because if you, Libby, cooperate and work for me for the entire summer,
then—well—you know that pavilion you always talked about? The one that’s still
not here?”

It took her a moment and another fast trip down memory lane to
understand his meaning. When she got it, she could only stare at him through
suspicious eyes.

“What about it?”

His smile made her think of an alligator right before it
lunged.

“You see, Myra,” he said as he swung back in her direction,
“back when we were kids, Libby always said that the one thing this camp really
needed was a waterfront pavilion. Just down a bit from the swimming area, in
that little inlet. Do you still like to hang out at the inlet, Libby?”