Authors: Mackenzie Crowne
She’d have blushed if she had the time. “Wait!”
He paused with his hand on the knob. She scurried around the bed and ripped her dangling panties from the arm of his desk chair then gathered her silk nightshirt from the floor. Tiptoeing on bare feet, she slid past him to press her back to the wall beside the door.
Soft laughter drew her gaze. He pointed at his bare feet. Her flirty, fuzzy pink, high heel slippers lay haphazardly where she’d kicked them off at the foot of the door. She scurried around him, snatched them up, and returned to her hiding spot.
Dimples popped in his maddening grin. She swung out an arm, waving her hand toward the door in a silent demand he get on with it.
Chuckling, he did as she suggested and gave Charlie his attention. “What are you doing up, sweetheart?”
“I can’t find Auntie Gracie.” The whine in her statement immediately pricked at Gracie’s guilt, doubling it. What was wrong?
“Auntie Gracie had to, ah, run out for a bit.” Jake gripped the door high enough to flash Gracie a grin from beneath his forearm. “She said something about a midnight shoe sale.”
She rolled her eyes, not sharing his humor. In all the weeks they’d been at the farm, the girls hadn’t come looking for either of them in the middle of the night. Charlie was here, after not finding Gracie where she
should
have been, which said something was definitely wrong. She jerked her chin toward the door.
He winked and ignored her answering glare. He turned to Charlie. “What’s wrong? Why aren’t you asleep?”
“Angel woke me up. She’s crying.”
Gracie started to push off the wall and make her presence known. He released the door, straight-arming her with a hand to her chest.
“Is she sick?”
“I don’t know.”
Though Gracie couldn’t see her, Charlie’s tears were evident in her voice. Gracie pushed against his hand. He held her firm and met her gaze with a stern shake of his head as if to say,
let me handle this
.
Squeezing her shoulder, he looked away and smiled at Charlie. “Let’s go see.”
Gracie yanked on her nightshirt and slipped into her panties the moment he pulled the door closed behind them. She appreciated what he was doing, but guilt gnawed at her insides. If she hadn’t been selfishly enjoying a sexy romp in his bed, she’d have been where she belonged when the girls needed her.
Barefoot with her slippers in one hand, she dashed down the hall and slowed to a stop outside the nursery door.
Jake’s voice rumbled in a soothing purr. “What’s wrong, Angel face?”
Gracie dipped her head to peek around the door. Jake’s hip rested on the edge of the bed beside Angel’s tiny body, curled in a tight ball. His hand ran over the bumps of her spine beneath her pink, princess pajamas.
Angel’s shoulders jerked on a sob. “I had a bad dream.”
“Aw, sweetheart. Can you tell me about it?”
She shook her head.
“I guess you’re used to talking to Charlie when you have a nightmare, huh?”
Angel sniffed, and Charlie stepped closer to rest a hand on his shoulder. He turned his head to smile at her.
In the shadows of the door, Gracie’s chest tightened.
He turned back to Angel. “You’re pretty lucky, you know. When I was a kid and had a nightmare, I woke up and wished I had a brother to talk to, or a sister.”
Angel peeked at him from beneath dark lashes spiked with tears. “What about Miss V? She said you grew up together.”
He nodded solemnly. “We did, and she was the next best thing, but she wasn’t a
real
sister.”
Charlie bent at the waist and cocked her head to look him in the eye. “Like Angel and me?”
He tapped a fingertip to her nose. “That’s right.”
Angel slowly rolled her head to meet his gaze. “Did you ever dream you were lost, all by yourself?”
He titled his head as though searching his memory. “Not that I can recall. Is that what you dreamt about?”
She nodded, and he cupped her tiny cheek in his large hand. Gracie bit her lip. Burning tears stung her eyes and nose at the tenderness of the touch.
He brushed a thumb over Angel’s cheek. “That sounds like a scary dream, but look around. You’re not alone. You’ve got Charlie, your auntie Gracie, Miss Mary, and me.”
She sniffled. “I was lost.”
A growl of sympathy rumbled in his throat. “That sounds
very
scary, but you know what?”
She blinked and uncurled to roll to her back. “What?”
“You’ll never be lost.” He glanced between both girls. “Either of you. Because I won’t let that happen. Not e
ver
.”
“You promise?”
He held up a pinky, and Gracie’s heart shuddered in her chest. Where had the reluctant warrior who’d shown up at the farmhouse door claiming to know nothing about little girls gone? The Outlaw playboy had been completely vanquished by a pair of miniature heartbreakers. While the development warmed her heart, her watery smile was more sad than joyful.
Angel sat up and linked her pinky with his. He grinned then bumped his shoulder to Charlie’s in a teasing invitation for her to join them. She giggled and curled her pinky around both of theirs.
“You have to say it,” Angel instructed solemnly.
He dipped his head and spoke as if his promise was the most important of his life. “I pinky swear.”
Angel nodded. Releasing his hand, she rose to her knees. She dropped her head shyly. “I love you, Jake.” She lifted her gaze to his.
His lips tilted upward in a surprised smile, and she threw herself into his arms.
Charlie giggled and squeezed in beside her sister to smile up into his face. “Me, too!”
As though sensing Gracie’s presence, he lifted his head, his eyes full of wary wonder. He glanced down at the top of their dark heads and his Adam’s apple skittered on a swallow. His suspiciously bright gaze climbed back to Gracie’s. He blinked, shook his head, and smiled at her, unaware of how the razor sharp pieces of her shattering heart sliced at her soul. For sure he had no clue he and his sisters were instrumental in the death of her most cherished dream.
Heartbreaking, it seemed, was a Thompson family trait.
“Ho-ly
shit
!”
Twin gasps reminded Jake of where he was and who was listening. With his heart slamming against the wall of his chest, he lifted his gaze from the screen on his phone and met dueling sets of identical, condemning blue eyes.
“Language!” Mary pinned him with narrowed eyes.
Using charm to get around her disapproving frown would require a clearer head than he possessed at the moment. Talk about taking a blind hit! He wiped a sweaty palm across the front of his sweatshirt. “Sorry.”
Across the table, Charlie paused with a crayon held over her open coloring book. Her mouth puckered with accusation and she spoke in a stage whisper. “You said the S word.”
“Yeah.” His palms were sweating, but his throat was bone dry. He swallowed with an audible click. “Sorry about that.”
Angel’s attitude might have done a complete one-eighty from the distrust she’d shown him when he first arrived at the farm, however, her thinned lips proclaimed her newfound hero worship wouldn’t help him in this case. She pointed a crayon at the jar on the counter without saying a word.
Too rattled to plead his case down to a lesser charge, he rose to his feet, pulled out his wallet and dug out a twenty. After what Max said about asking why a female computer geek would become a rabid football fan, he’d expected her father was someone in the world of football. He’d even been prepared to recognize the man’s name, but… Suddenly, her furtiveness, as well as her fear, made perfect sense, but…holy shit!
His guilty gaze sliced back to the twins. Maybe he should stuff a C note in the jar. He’d no doubt be dropping plenty more verbal bombs before coming to terms with Gracie’s father’s identity.
Holy! Fucking! Shit!
He peeled off a couple more twenties and tossed them in. “Where’s Gracie?”
Mary eyed the jar, and his face, before turning back to her dinner preparations. “In the city. She had a business meeting and a hair appointment. She said she’d be home by four.”
Oh, hell. She was primping for tonight’s date. He glanced at his phone, squeezed his eyes shut, and bit back a groan. What the hell did he do now?
He forked the fingers of his free hand through his hair. He’d only scanned the first paragraph of the report his computer friend sent, but that was enough. What were the odds Gracie’s mother’s boss had been a sports agent with a client named Doug Costa? A second Doug Costa who
wasn’t
the man who lived to make Jake’s professional life miserable?
From her initial horror at learning he was Pete’s son to her fear of facing the press, Gracie’s unreasonable behavior these past three months suddenly made perfect sense. His princess was none other than the illegitimate daughter of the league’s new commissioner.
Son of a bitch!
The mother fucker had dogged him for years in his quest for revenge for Jake’s having slept with his niece, despite the fact Bridgette had gone on to screw her way through half the starting lineups in the league before bagging herself a Brazilian soccer star husband.
For years, Costa had worn his squeaky clean reputation like a cape, looking down his nose at Jake and making things difficult whenever possible. What a crock of shit. Jake would be the first one to admit he wasn’t perfect, but at least he hadn’t knocked anyone up and walked away.
At the table, Angel giggled at something Charlie said, drawing his attention as she chose another crayon from the box between them. He drew in a slow breath, recalling the afternoon he’d attempted to get Gracie to give him her father’s name. She’d shot him down, arguing the man had a family she wasn’t willing to destroy.
He didn’t understand her logic. Like Pete, Costa had walked away from her to build a family with his other children and yet, she’d been turning herself inside out to protect him. The irony of the situation didn’t escape him. He, who never expected nor particularly wanted a family, had one dropped in his lap. She, on the other hand, spent her life yearning for what would’ve been hers, but for Costa’s abandonment. The asshole didn’t deserve her.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. As commissioner, Costa would play a prominent role at tonight’s fund-raiser. Did Gracie realize he’d be there?
With a little effort, arrangements could be made to publicly take the sanctimonious fucker down a few pegs and prove to Gracie her concern for the man was misplaced. V would pitch a fit if she knew he’d even considered exposing Costa for the fraud he was, but damn, he was tempted.
* * * *
“Well, how do I look?”
Gracie spun in a slow pirouette. Ending at mid-thigh, the wispy silk sheath dress shifted and shimmied, floating around her curves with every move. The silvery hue captured the soft glow of her bedside lamp in shades of magenta, pink and purple, a vision of pearlescent magic, as the sale’s clerk had suggested. The dress was beautiful and should be for what she’d paid, but she needed the extra boost in confidence tonight.
Like runway judges, the twins huddled on her bed and eyed her critically. In her position as diva in training, Angel offered the twins’ consensual opinion on anything fashion.
Breathless, she clasped her hands together beneath her chin and sighed wistfully. “Like a princess.”
Gracie grinned and made them laugh by performing a deep, flowing curtsey. She ended the move by displaying the toe of one high, Armadillo boot. Considering
his
shoe/leg fetish, she couldn’t wait to see Jake’s reaction to the silver, peek-a-boo sexy ribbons hugging her ankles.
“Are you nervous?”
More than I’ve ever been in my life!
She cocked her head at Charlie’s guileless question. “A little, but what would make you ask such a thing? Do I look nervous?”
Charlie smiled. “No, but Jake is. We thought you might be, too.”
Angel nodded in agreement.
Jake, nervous? “Why do you say that?”
“He said a bad word.”
“The S word,” Angel added. “Miss Mary said it’s cuz men hate to wear tuxeebos.”
She grinned. “Tuxedos.”
Angel nodded. “But I don’t know why he’s mad. I think he looks pretty in his,” she spoke the word slowly, “tuxedo.”
A laugh gurgled up from her belly. “Did you tell him that?”
“Oh, no. He was
really
mad.” Angel’s brow puckered. “Should I? Do you think it would make him feel better?”
“I think you definitely should. Everyone likes hearing they look pretty, right?”
They bobbed their heads in agreement. “Right!”
She smiled mischievously as she stepped in front of her long, oval mirror to attach her earrings. The dangling silver baubles danced and sparkled in the artificial light. Wispy tendrils framed her face and softened the sophisticated up-do her hairdresser had created. Coffee brown eyes blinked back at her, courtesy of her new colored contacts.
She spun away. What would Jake think of the change in her eye color? As suspicious as he was, she doubted he’d buy her claim the contacts were simply for fun. Too bad. That was the story she’d be pitching. If he didn’t like it, well, this wouldn’t be the first time he’d been unhappy with her over her secretiveness.
She sighed. The truth was, the secretiveness between them was probably no longer necessary. Even if she was to do as Jake asked and give him her father’s name, she couldn’t see him blabbing the information to the press. The resulting firestorm would be something he and V would want to avoid at all costs.
Nor were the contacts necessary, other than to assuage her
better safe than sorry
philosophy. Facing the press three weeks ago had proven Max right. There was no reason for anyone to make the connection between her and her father. Other than their shared hair color, she looked nothing like the man who sired her, and after twenty-six years, who would be looking?
The freedom her epiphany represented left her giddy with relief. Sure, she hadn’t shed the press completely. Though they were no longer camped at the gate, they remained interested in fleshing out her and Jake’s romantic tale. The phone rang incessantly with requests for interviews, and much to Gracie’s horror, Dina Sutton had actually ambushed her outside the door to Max’s gym last week. Max, the hound dog, managed to sidetrack the redheaded reporter by convincing her an interview with Gracie’s best friend would be the next best thing. Ha! Beneficial to him, maybe. No doubt the subject of carnal knowledge came up at some point during their
interview
last night.