Bachelor Dad on Her Doorstep (8 page)

When they’d heard Connor was thinking of attending this evening’s town meeting, they’d insisted Mel spend the night with them. He bit back a sigh. It was probably for the best. He’d miss reading Mel her bedtime story, but it had started to become all too apparent that Mel hungered for a female influence in her life—a female role model. He’d seen the way she watched the girls at school with their mothers and his heart ached for her.

He was hoping his own mother’s presence would help plug that particular hole. At least it gave Mel a woman to confide in.

She needs a younger woman.
He pushed that thought away. Two women had left him without backwards glances. He wasn’t going through that again, and he sure as hell wasn’t risking his daughter’s heart and happiness to some fly-by-night. He and Mel, they’d keep muddling along.

‘Now, to the last item on the agenda.’

That rock-cracking voice had Connor wincing again. Richard rolled his eyes at Mr Sears’s self-importance. Connor nodded in silent agreement.

‘Now, I believe most of you will agree with me when I say we most certainly do not want a tattoo parlour polluting the streets of Clara Falls. Those of you who are in favour of such an abomination, please put forward your arguments now.’

Mr Sears glared around the room. Connor shifted forward on his seat, rested his arms on his knees. This was the reason he’d come tonight.

Nobody put forward an argument for a tattoo parlour in Clara Falls, and Connor listened with growing anger to the plan outlined by Gordon Sears to halt the likelihood of any such development occurring in the future.

Finally, he could stand it no longer. ‘I don’t know if this has escaped everyone’s notice or not,’ he said, climbing to his feet, ‘but you can’t block a non-existent development.’

Mr Sears puffed up. ‘That’s just semantics!’

‘No,’ Connor drawled. ‘It’s law.’

‘This town has every right to make its feelings known on the subject.’

Connor planted his feet. ‘If you approach Jaz Harper with this viciousness—’

‘No names have been mentioned!’ Mr Sears bluffed.

‘No names have been mentioned, but everyone in this room knows exactly who you’re talking about. Jaz Harper has made no move whatsoever to set up a tattoo parlour in Clara Falls. She’s come back to run her mother’s bookshop. End of story.’

He glanced around the room. Some people nodded their encouragement. Others shifted uneasily on their seats as their gazes slid away. Bloody hell! If Jaz were susceptible to the same kind of depression that had afflicted Frieda then…then she wouldn’t need the likes of Gordon Sears banging on her door and shoving a petition under her nose.

‘Connor is right.’ Richard stood too. ‘Last time I checked, this country was still a democracy. If you approach
my client
,’ he stressed those two words, ‘with a petition or with any other kind of associated viciousness—’ he borrowed the term from Connor, but Connor didn’t mind ‘—I will take out a harassment suit on her behalf. And, what’s more, I’ll enjoy doing it. She’s a local businesswoman who is contributing to the economy of this town and we should all be supporting her.’

‘I’ll second that!’ Connor clapped Richard on the back. Richard clapped him back. They both sat down. He watched with grim satisfaction as Gordon Sears brought the meeting to a close in double-quick time.

Mr Sears approached him as he and Richard stood talking by their cars. Connor could sense the anger in the older man, even though he hid it well. ‘If any such proposal does go forward to the local council, I want you both to know that I will use every means in my power to block it.’

‘I hope you’re talking about legal means,’ Richard said smoothly.

‘Naturally.’ Mr Sears lifted his chin and glared at Connor. ‘I should’ve known you’d take her side.’

Connor planted his feet. ‘This isn’t about sides. It’s about keeping Clara Falls as the kind of place where I’m happy to raise my daughter. A place not blinded by small-minded bigotry.’

‘Ah, your daughter…yes.’

His smirk made the muscles of Connor’s stomach contract.

‘I take it that you are aware Melanie has been seen leaving the bookshop with Jaz Harper every afternoon this week?’

She what?

Mr Sears laughed at whatever he saw in Connor’s face. ‘But, then again, perhaps not.’ He strolled off, evidently pleased with the bombshell he’d landed.

‘There’ll be a perfectly reasonable explanation,’ Richard said quietly.

‘There’d better be. And I mean to find out what it is.’ Now. ‘Night, Richard.’

‘Night, Connor.’

Connor climbed into his car and turned it in the direction of Frieda’s Fiction Fair.

He eased the car past the bookshop at a crawl. A light burned inside, towards the rear of the shop. His lips tightened. She was there. He swung his car left at the roundabout and headed for the parking space behind her shop.

He let himself in with the key Jaz had given him. ‘Hello?’ He made his voice loud, made sure it’d carry all the way through to the front of the shop. He rattled the door and made plenty of noise. He had no intention of startling her like he had last night.

‘Through here,’ Jaz called.

He followed the sound of her voice. Then came to a dead halt.

She’d started her picture of Frieda.

She was drawing!

He reached out and clamped a hand around the hard shelf of a bookcase as the breath punched out of him.
She looked so familiar.
A thousand different memories pounded at him.

She’d sketched in the top half of Frieda’s face with a fine pencil and the detail stole his breath. He inched forward to get a better view. Beneath her fingers, her mother’s eyes and brow came alive—so familiar and so…vibrant.

Jaz had honed her skill, her talent, until it sang. The potential he’d recognised in her work eight years ago—the potential anyone who’d seen her work couldn’t have failed to recognise—had come of age. An ache started up deep down inside him, settled beneath his ribcage like a stitch.

He wanted to drag his gaze away, but he couldn’t.

He found his anger again instead. What the hell was Jaz doing with his little girl? Why had Mel been seen with her every afternoon this week? And why hadn’t Mrs Benedict informed him about it?

His hands clenched. He’d protect Mel with every breath in his body. Mel was seven—just a little girl—and vulnerable…And in need of a mother.

He ignored that last thought. Jaz Harper sure as hell didn’t fit that bill.

Jaz exhaled, stepped back to survey her work more fully, then she growled. She threw her pencil down on a card table she’d set up nearby—it held a photograph of Frieda—then swung around to him, her eyes blazing. ‘I’m grateful for what you did earlier in the day—the loan of the computer, Mrs Lavender et cetera. You left before I could thank you. So…thank you. But you obviously have something on your mind now and you might as well spit it out.’

‘I mean to.’ He planted his feet, hands on hips. ‘I want to know what the hell you’ve been doing with my daughter every afternoon this week?’

The words shot out of him like nails from a nail gun, startling him with their ferocity, but he refused to moderate his
glare. If she’d so much as harmed one hair on Mel’s head, he’d make sure she regretted it for the rest of her life.

‘Did you hear this from Melanie?’

‘Gordon Sears,’ he growled.

Jaz’s lips twisted at whatever she saw in his face. Lush, full lips. Lips he—

No. He would not fall under her spell again. He wouldn’t expose Mel to another woman who’d run at the first hint of trouble.

‘Still jumping to conclusions, Connor?’

Her words punched the air out of his body.

‘What on earth do you think I’ve been doing with her?’ She planted her hands on her hips—a mirror image of him—and matched his glare. ‘What kind of nasty notions have been running through your mind?’

Nothing specific, he realised. But he remembered the gaping hole Jaz had left in his life when she’d fled Clara Falls eight years ago. He wouldn’t let her hurt Mel like that.

‘One more day,’ she whispered. ‘That’s all I needed with her—one more day.’ She said the words almost to herself, as if she’d forgotten he was even there.

‘One more day to do what?’ he exploded.

She folded her arms, but he saw that her hands shook. ‘You haven’t changed much at all, have you, Connor? It seems you’re still more than willing to believe the worst of me.’

Bile burned his throat.

‘I needed one more day to convince her to confide in you, that’s what.’

To confide in him…Her words left him floundering. ‘To confide what?’

‘If you spent a little more time with your daughter, then perhaps you’d know!’

‘If I…’ His shoulders grew so tight they hurt. ‘What do you know about bringing a child up on your own?’ About how hard it was. About how the doubts crowded in, making him wonder if he was doing a good job or making a hash of things. About how
he’d always be a dad and never a mum and that, no matter how nurturing and gentle he tried to be, he knew it wasn’t the same.

‘I…nothing.’ Jaz took a step back. ‘I’m sorry.’

The sadness that stretched across her face had his anger draining away, against his will and against his better judgement. She turned away as if to hide her sadness from him.

‘Are you going to tell me what’s been going on?’ To his relief, his voice had returned to normal.

She started gathering up her pencils and placing them back in their box. ‘I don’t suppose you’d trust me for just one more day?’

‘No, I wouldn’t.’ He tried to make the words gentle. He had to bite back an oath when she flinched. ‘I won’t take any risks where Mel’s concerned. I can’t.’

She smiled then and he saw the same concern she’d shown for Gwen last night reflected in her eyes now. His chest started to burn as if he’d run a marathon. If Jaz had gleaned even the tiniest piece of information that would help him with Mel…Mel, who’d gone from laughing and bright-eyed to sober and withdrawn in what seemed to him a twinkling of an eye.

Mel, who’d once chattered away to him about everything and nothing, and who these days would only shake her head when he asked her if anything was wrong.

‘Mel has been coming to the bookshop after school instead of Mrs Benedict’s.’

‘Do you know why?’

‘I…yes, I do.’ She hesitated. ‘May I ask you a question first?’

His hand clenched. He wanted his bright, bubbly daughter back—the girl whose smile would practically split her face in two whenever she saw him. He’d do anything to achieve that, pay any price. Even if that meant answering Jaz’s questions first. He gave a short, hard nod.

‘Why is Melly going to Mrs Benedict’s after school? Please don’t get angry again, but…if you start work at seven-thirty most mornings, surely you should be able to knock off in time to collect Melly from school at three-thirty? Obviously I don’t
know your personal situation, but it looks as if you’re doing well financially. Do you really need to work such long hours?’

No, he didn’t.

She frowned. ‘And who looks after Melly in the mornings before school?’

‘The school provides a care service, before and after school.’

She didn’t ask, but he could see the question in her eyes—why didn’t he use that service instead of sending Mel to Mrs Benedict’s?

‘You don’t want to tell me, do you?’

What the hell…? That mixture of sadness and understanding in her voice tugged at him. It wouldn’t hurt to tell her. It might even go some way to making amends for bursting in here and all but accusing her of hurting Mel.

He raked a hand back through his hair. ‘We had a huge storm on this side of the mountain two and a half months ago. It did a lot of damage—roofs blown off, trees down on houses, that kind of thing. The state emergency services were run off their feet and we jumped in to help. We’re still getting through that work now. At the time it seemed important to secure people’s homes against further damage, to make them safe again…liveable. But it did and does mean working long hours.’ He hated to see people homeless, especially families with small children.

‘And you feel responsible for making things right?’

He didn’t know if that was a statement or a question. He shrugged. ‘I just want to do my bit to help.’

‘Yes, but don’t you think you need to draw the line somewhere? There are more important things in life than work, you know.’

A scowl built up inside him. Did she think work counted two hoots when it came to Mel? Mel was his life.

Jaz thrust her chin out. ‘You worked on my sign last Saturday instead of taking Melanie on the skyway. You broke a date with your daughter to work on my stupid sign.’

‘You didn’t think that sign so unimportant at the time!’

Guilt inched through him. He had cancelled that outing with Mel, but he’d promised to take her to the skyway the next day instead. She’d seemed happy enough with that, as happy as she seemed with anything these days. Except…

He frowned. When Sunday had rolled around Mel had said she didn’t want to go anywhere. She’d spent the day colouring in on the living room floor instead.

He should’ve taken her on the Saturday—he should’ve kept his promise—but when he’d found out Jaz was expected to arrive in Clara Falls that day, he hadn’t been able to stay away. At the time he’d told himself it was to get their initial meeting out of the way, and any associated unpleasantness. As he stared down into Jaz’s face now, though, he wondered if he’d lied.

He pulled his mind back. ‘It’s not just the work. Mel needs a woman in her life. She’s—’

He broke off to drag a hand down his face. ‘I see the way she watches the girls at school with their mothers.’ It broke his heart that he couldn’t fill that gap for her. ‘She hungers for that…maternal touch.’

Jaz frowned. Then her face suddenly cleared. ‘That’s what Mrs Benedict’s about. She’s your maternal touch!’

He nodded. ‘She came highly recommended. She’s raised five children of her own. She’s a big, buxom lady with a booming laugh. A sort of…earth mother figure.’