Читать книгу Rancher's Wife - Anne Marie Winston - Страница 6

Day entered the kitchen quietly, resisting the urge to slam the door with all his strength. He couldn’t believe he’d had this...this actress in his house for two days without even knowing it. He slapped the paper down on the kitchen counter. “What the hell is the meaning of this?”

Dulcie, who was chopping lettuce at the sink, jumped visibly. “Don’t do that when I’m holding a sharp knife,” she complained. But as she turned and caught sight of his face, her expression changed from irritation to wariness. “The meaning of what?”

“This.” Day stabbed a rigid forefinger at the article and accompanying photograph. He knew his anger was written all over his face but he didn’t care. “You know how I feel about having my private life exposed to the public. You know how hard I’ve worked to be sure Beth Ann is shielded from—from this, and yet you deliberately invite a woman you know will bring nothing but notoriety to visit this ranch.”

“Oh, excuse me.” Angel—no, Angelique—hovered in the doorway. “I didn’t mean to interrupt a family matter.”

He felt his temperature boil a notch higher at her unfailing politeness. Didn’t the woman ever have an honest moment of irritation or pique? With an acid courtesy of his own, he said, “Come right in, Miss Sumner.”

She froze, and her face showed shock for an instant before she wiped it carefully blank as she took a hesitant step forward. In that instant, he was suddenly sure his suspicions were correct.

He didn’t attempt to hide the hateful sneer in his voice as he said, “I wouldn’t want you to miss this discussion, particularly since you’ve had a hand in deceiving me. How long did you think it would take me to figure out who you were?” He shoved his face close to hers, so furious that he was shaking. “How stupid do you think I am?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. Jada wouldn’t have missed such an obvious opportunity for a stinging put-down. But Angelique Sumner ignored it.

“Dulcie didn’t intend to deceive you,” she said. Her words were quiet, but he could see her delicate jaw set in a surprisingly pugnacious line.

“Oh, no?” He tapped the paper furiously with an accusing finger. “What am I supposed to believe? That she just conveniently forgot to mention her houseguest was one of Hollywood’s darlings?”

Dulcie made a sound of angry protest, but again it was Angel—Angelique—who spoke. “Like me, I imagine she didn’t realize it needed any mention.”

“Why the hell not?” He was so mad he was yelling.

“I thought you knew who I was!” Angel yelled back.

He was so surprised that the quiet woman who’d been floating around the ranch for the past few days could raise her voice that he was momentarily speechless. She even looked shocked at herself.

Taking a deep breath, she said more quietly, “Dulcie and I have been friends since high school, long before I started acting professionally. I assumed you knew who I was before I came here.”

Dulcie stepped forward to stand shoulder to shoulder with her taller guest. “I honestly thought you knew, Day. It wasn’t meant to be a secret.”

He had the distinct impression the two women were uniting against him. When they put it that way, his anger seemed all out of proportion. Still, he wasn’t willing to back down so easily. He said, “If you weren’t trying to hide anything, then why doesn’t the press know where you are?” Again he pointed to the headline.

Angel sighed. “I deliberately didn’t tell anyone where I was going. I needed some space to think, to make some decisions I’ve been putting off. When Dulcie extended the invitation to come to the Red Arrow, I knew it was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up. She’s not related to me. There are no obvious connections. I was careful about leaving town and I’ve been making an effort to be inconspicuous—”

“You don’t say,” Day drawled, giving an exaggerated glance at her dolled-up image in the photo and then looking back at her.

She paused and gave him an uncertain smile, clearly not sure whether he was baiting her or not. Then she said quietly, “I realize that you must have some strong reservations about my presence here. If you like, I’ll leave.”

“No!” Dulcie glared at Day. “She’s not hurting anyone. Angel couldn’t hurt anyone.” She crossed her arms defiantly. “If she leaves, I leave.”

Day grimaced. Given a choice, he would have accepted Angelique Sumner’s offer to remove herself from his ranch. But he needed Dulcie. Pilar, the ranch housekeeper of thirty years, had retired when she broke a hip two months ago. Since then, he’d had to hire and fire three housekeepers.

Finally, Dulcie had agreed to come and stay with Beth Ann until he could find yet another replacement. If Dulcie left, he couldn’t keep Beth Ann with him.

He’d had the idea of sending her to a baby-sitter’s house while he was out on the range some months ago, but when Jada found out, she’d used it to make him look like an unfit father. No, he had to keep Beth Ann here. Which meant he needed Dulcie. Which meant he was stuck with Angel whatever-she-was-going-to-be-called for the next two weeks.

“All right,” he said. “You win.” He wasn’t certain which one of the women he was addressing. “But no more secrets.”

“It wasn’t a secret.” Angel’s voice was firm and vehement. “But after seeing how worked up you are, I’d have to say you’re right. I wouldn’t have told you because I’d have figured you’d have a paranoid hang-up with my career.”

“And you’d be right.” His words were flat and unapologetic. Turning, he snatched his hat from the peg where he’d hung it and slammed out of the kitchen. As he passed through it on his way to the barn, the only refuge he had away from the house, he gave the door of the utility room a satisfying bang.

* * *

Sunlight streaming across her face woke her, making her squint and throw an arm across her eyes. Morning. Slowly Angel swam out of the depths of sleep, hating the exhausted feeling that always dogged her these days. Why had she thought it might be different, better, here? She was lucky to fall asleep before dawn. Same old story. She couldn’t sleep, and when she did, she couldn’t get awake again. Catch-22.

The clock said 9:25. She sat up, forcing herself out of lethargy. This was her third full day on the ranch and she’d hoped to help Dulcie with her chores. Sleeping in like a slothful vacationer was not what she’d had in mind. Besides, it would only confirm all the bad things Day Kincaid was convinced she embodied. Darn grumpy man anyway.

Her stomach growled loudly—past time for breakfast. Quickly she made her bed and dressed, leaving her face bare of makeup and confining her hair in a wide barrette at the back of her head. As she opened her door, her stomach growled again. Kitchen. Food. She was used to eating at the crack of dawn. She went down the steps and headed for the kitchen.

Dulcie was making cookies. As she entered the room, the delicious smell assaulted her empty stomach with an almost physical pain.

“Hi, sleepyhead.” Dulcie smiled from the counter where she was working. “I guess you want some breakfast.”

“Yes, but I don’t want you to wait on me,” Angel said as she lifted a still-warm cookie from the tray cooling atop the range. “I’ll help myself.”

As she turned to remove a brimming pitcher of orange juice from the refrigerator, Beth Ann peeped around the corner of the counter, where she must have been playing at Dulcie’s feet. Two fingers were tucked into her mouth and a worried frown wrinkled her small forehead. Striking silver eyes exactly like her father’s peeped from beneath a fringe of black bang as she assessed the newcomer.

Angel was struck by the cautious quality of the child’s surveillance. It was as if she was testing the atmosphere to see if it was safe to show herself. Angel had spent much of the day yesterday playing with the little girl, and she’d thought they had gotten past the shy stage. What could make a three-year-old so wary? She decided to pretend everything was normal. As far as she was concerned, it was.

“Hello there,” she said. “Is it all right if I eat a cookie for breakfast?”

The little girl giggled, her small face losing its anxious look. “No. Cookies are for d’ssert. Cereal is for breakfast.”

“Out of the mouths of babes,” Dulcie intoned. “Around here, the men expect some kind of dessert with every meal. I feel like all I do is bake.”

“Why don’t you let me help? I love to bake.” Angel sat down with a piece of toast and the cookie she’d pilfered. “And please tell me what else I can do. I’ve been lounging around here like a guest in a resort hotel for the past few days.”

“You’ve been entertaining Beth Ann, which can be a job in itself.” But Dulcie threw her an assessing look. “If that was just a polite offer, you’d better tell me now. I’m desperate enough to accept any help that comes my way.” She shook her head and smiled. “I never fully appreciated everything the housekeeper did until she wasn’t here to do it anymore.”

“Well, then, let me help.” Angel looked forward to immersing herself in old-fashioned chores. Maybe while she worked, she could take a good look inside herself and figure out exactly what she wanted to do with the rest of her life.

“I can help, too,” Beth Ann announced. She gave Angel a mischievous smile. “Af’er you read me more stories.”

“Oh ho! So you like my stories, do you?” Angel patted her knee and Beth Ann immediately scampered across the floor to climb into her lap, wriggling like an enthusiastic puppy. “So what stories shall we read today?”

Later, she finished mixing the filling for the crème de menthe brownies she’d made for dinner and set it in the refrigerator. As she swept the kitchen floor and ran a bucket of water to mop it, she thought again about her future. And her past. She’d once thought that money would solve all her problems. If only it could be that easy! Even before the anonymous stalker had begun his campaign of terror, she’d been thinking of leaving the world of scripts and cameras. Building the illusions that went into a film had been consuming enough to help her through the bad time after Emmie’s adoption, but somehow it wasn’t really her.

So who was she anyway? She sighed as she saw Day riding a big black horse toward the barn. He sat the horse with a fluid grace that spoke of years in the big Western-style saddles. Despite knowing what he thought of her, she found her gaze drawn to him again and again. Yes, he was handsome, but she was used to handsome men. She knew many of them were as shallow as their physical beauty.

Then why wasn’t she able to ignore him? Any time he was in the vicinity, her antennae quivered and twitched with a fascination she was afraid could prove fatal if she didn’t keep it under strict rein. For heaven’s sake, the man didn’t even like her! As she watched, he swept off his hat and beat it against his leg, sending a swirl of dry New Mexico dust off on the light breeze. His dark hair gleamed with fiery highlights under the merciless sun, and as one of the hands called out to him, she saw his white teeth flash in a grin.

He was vibrant and full of life, a complex man who wanted to rid his ranch of her presence as soon as possible. He saw her as a flat, one-dimensional creature. Actress. To him, there was no more to her than that. After hiding from herself and her feelings for so long, she was afraid his contempt might have some merit.

“Are you cooking, Miss Ban-ban-banderbeer? Can I stir?”

Shaken from her introspection, Angel looked down. Little Beth Ann stood beside her, poised to climb onto a nearby stool but obediently waiting for permission. Angel’s heart softened in immediate pleasure.

“Of course you can help me, honey,” Angel assured her, smiling as she lifted the child onto the stool, then hugged her close for a moment. Beth Ann was warm and pliable, wrapping her arms around Angel’s neck and returning the hug.

“I’m a good stirrer,” the tot told her solemnly.

Angel stifled a smile. “I bet you’re the best. Did you just wake up from your nap?”

“Uh-huh. Aunt Dulcie said if I didn’t get in your way, I could help you.” The little face sobered, that entirely too-adult anxiety creeping into her tone. “I promise I’ll be quiet.”

Angel studied the child. Who could have sought to stifle this precious baby’s enthusiasm and curiosity? Indignation rose within her and she said, “You don’t have to be quiet and you most certainly can stay. In fact, I’m not sure I can frost these brownies without your help. What do you say?”

Sunshine brightened the room as the child’s face lit up. “Okay!” she shouted.

Angel laughed. “Okay,” she repeated.

“What’s okay?” The voice belonged to Day.

She looked up, a trace of defiance rising within her. She would not let him squelch Beth Ann’s pleasure in the chore. “Shouting is okay. So is helping me with these brownies.”

“Oh.” He eyed her and his daughter for a minute. “Thank you for letting me shout.”

“Daaaddeee!” Beth Ann was giggling. “She meant me, not you.”

“Are you sure?” He frowned as if he couldn’t trust what he was hearing.

“Yes.” The little one climbed down from her stool and bounced across the room to wrap chubby arms around Day’s knees. Then she climbed nimbly into his arms, shrieking with laughter when her father bussed her neck with his mustache. “I like Miss Banderbeer,” Beth Ann announced. “Can she stay for a long, long time?”

Day hesitated. “She’s only here for a vacation, filly.”

“But why can’t she—”

“Let’s dance,” he interrupted. Holding Beth Ann against him, he began to move around the room as the child squealed with glee.

Angel continued to frost the brownies, but she was all too aware of him. A quiet happiness filled her heart. Suspicions she hadn’t been aware she harbored dissolved as she watched the way he responded to his daughter. Day clearly wasn’t the one who had made her afraid to behave like a normal child. She hated to think ill of someone who wasn’t able to defend herself, but it looked as if Day’s dislike of his ex-wife might have some solid foundation.

She watched his long legs as he lifted Beth Ann and twirled once around the room in a three-step. His jeans were well worn and faithfully followed the muscled strength of his thighs. The child clung to his wide shoulders—

Her thoughts halted in disarray as the object of her thoughts met her gaze over the top of his daughter’s head. Intent and thoughtful, his eyes held enough masculine interest to make her flush and return her own attention to her work.

When he moved his gaze from her, she could almost feel the change and she risked another quick glance at him. He was looking at his daughter again, smiling at the child. He set Beth Ann back on the stool beside Angel.

“Gotta go, filly,” he said, brushing her cheek with his whiskered jaw until she squealed with laughter. “See you at dinner.”

And he was gone. Just like that, the room drained of energy, vitality. In her mind’s eye, Angel saw him dancing with Beth Ann, his large frame surefooted with a confident masculine grace other men could never hope to match. Whoa, girl, she told herself. Don’t get carried away. He’s your host. Not your main squeeze.

* * *

Day found Angel in the kitchen again after dinner, after he’d read to Beth Ann and tucked her in for the night.

“You sure are spending a lot of your vacation working,” he said, setting a glass on the counter.

She smiled at him, up to her elbows in soapy water. “I don’t mind,” she said. “It’s a welcome change.”

That smile hit him right in the gut and he sucked in his breath. She was a beautiful woman. Too beautiful. He didn’t trust the way she seemed to be infiltrating his life. “Don’t get too used to it,” Day warned, his voice harsh with hostility.

Her smile faded. So did the quiet happiness in her eyes. “We’re not all the same, you know,” she said.

“Who’s ‘we’?” He was wary, knowing what she meant without needing the answer.

“Actresses,” she clarified. “We come in all shapes and sizes and colors, and our personalities are just as diverse.”

If she’d gone any further, he’d have been able to get angry. As it was, her small rebuke did what feminine whining could never have achieved: it made him feel guilty. He hadn’t been raised to treat people as he’d been treating her. Still...

“You’re right,” he said, seeking a truce without giving in. “I shouldn’t judge all actresses by one lousy experience. But I find it hard to believe that you could be happy here, doing housework on a ranch when you’re used to so much more. I keep thinking you must have some ulterior motive for wanting to help out. I’d like to know up-front what it is.”

Her hands stilled in the dishwater and he knew he’d been right. She did have some hidden agenda.

“I need time—time to think,” she said with a tentative look at him from under her lashes.

“Time to think?” he repeated.

“Yes. I have some...decisions to make that will affect my future, and I can’t consider all the angles while I’m working. So yes, I guess I do have an ulterior motive.” She picked up a pan, then pointed it at him for emphasis. “But that doesn’t mean what I need has to be in conflict with what you need, does it?”

Put like that, she sounded so reasonable he could do nothing other than agree. “I guess not,” he said. Then it struck him. They were having a conversation that consisted of something other than accu-sations and screaming demands. Given his suspicions, this whole talk could have degenerated into the very same kind of shouting match he and Jada often had.

If she were like Jada. She’d reminded him that she might be different, and in this respect he had to agree that she was. Intrigued by that thought, he pulled a kitchen chair toward him, straddling it backward.

“I’m curious. How did you get to Hollywood from Deming?”

She shrugged, shooting him a single startled glance while her hands hesitated in the water again. “The usual way, I suppose. I joined the drama club in high school and realized I liked acting. Other people told me I was good at it.”

“And...?”

“And so eventually I decided to try to make a living at it.”

It was an answer but he wasn’t satisfied. He studied her expressionless face, longing to shake her out of her habitual calm, wondering what piece of the puzzle that was Angel he was missing. Then he said, “You speak as if you didn’t light out of town the day you got your diploma.”

A half smile lit up her features. “I did. But I only went as far as Albuquerque.”

Her eyes had a faraway look, seeing into some time and place from which he was excluded. It shouldn’t have bothered him, but it did. “If you didn’t go to Hollywood right away, what did you do?”

She came back then from wherever she’d gone. It was like watching someone in the distance gradually grow in size as they came nearer and nearer. Then she looked at him, and the pain in her wide brown eyes was a shock he wasn’t prepared for. “I got married,” she said.

He couldn’t speak for a moment. If anyone came after him with a question, he couldn’t formulate an answer if his life depended on it. All he could think was, That wasn’t in the magazines.

She’d gotten married. He didn’t like the feeling that simple sentence gave him, like an ugly, jealous fist that thumped into his stomach and stayed there like a lump of day-old oatmeal eaten in a hurry.

Finally sanity returned. And with it, the awareness that he hadn’t responded to her bombshell in any way. He said the first thing that came to him. “Who to?”

The corner of her mouth kicked up a little, though it wasn’t a mirthful response. “His name was Jimmy,” she said. “He was from up near Albuquerque and I met him at a rodeo my senior year of high school.”

Ah, he had it now. “And when the marriage didn’t work out, you headed for Hollywood,” he said.

“No.” She emptied the last of the dishwater and hung the dishcloth up to dry, clearly signaling an end to his grilling. “I headed for Hollywood after Jimmy died.”

* * *

Day wondered about Angel’s husband all day as he rode his land checking each of the thirty-five wells that kept his cattle from dying of thirst in the arid desert region. She’d met him at a rodeo.... Had she married a professional rider, one of the wandering men who followed the circuit or had he simply been a spectator?

Had she loved him? Mourned his passing?

Cynicism reared its head as he recalled the information printed in the article he’d read about her. One headline in particular kept reverberating in his head.

A Legion of Lovers. The article had listed her numerous entanglements since she’d arrived on the West Coast, detailing liaisons with famous men from every field of entertainment. He knew better than to believe it all, but separating the facts from the fiction was beyond him.

He made a last notation in the small notepad he carried in his breast pocket, replaced it and wheeled his horse away from the cottonwood well, so named because of the trees that marked its location. Why was he still thinking about Angel anyway? She was just a temporary guest in his home.

And one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. She had no business doing housework. He’d been too angry the first time he’d seen her to take in her appeal, but since then...since then he’d found her difficult to ignore. Though she didn’t doll herself up like the woman who’d posed for her publicity shots, he found her classic features more striking each time he saw her. He’d already caught himself fantasizing about pulling her hair out of the simple elastic band in which she habitually wore it and running his fingers through the silky, straight golden strands. Yep, he’d caught himself more than once.

Fool, he told himself. You’ve already paid the price for one beautiful, useless woman in your life. When are you going to learn?

When he came in the door before dinner, she was in the kitchen again, kneading dough with quick, competent motions. Had she even been outside since she’d arrived? Before he could give himself time to think, he blurted, “Tomorrow, if you’d like, I’ll give you a tour of the ranch.” Then a thought struck him. “That is, if you ride.”

“I ride, though it’s been a while.” She blew her bangs out of her eyes and turned the bread dough into a pan, covered it with a cotton cloth and reached for the next hunk of dough. Then she looked up from her work and smiled at him. “That would be lovely if it won’t keep you from your work.”

He shrugged, beaten to his knees by that smile. “I can do some work as we go.”

He left her before he did anything more foolish than he already had, heading for his room to shower and change before dinner. When he returned, the men were starting to arrive, and Dulcie was carrying plates of food into the dining room. He walked into the kitchen, intending to help her carry dishes to the table.

Angel was perched on a stool at the built-in desk, the telephone cord wrapped around the fingers of one hand as she spoke into the receiver. Her face was alive with amusement and pleasure, more animated than he’d seen it since her arrival. He wondered who could put that look on her face.

* * *

Angel laughed as her agent scolded her for the tenth time. “Calm down, Karl. I’m fine. I simply needed a little space for a while. Just tell everyone that I’m taking a well-deserved vacation.”

“Where on earth are you and why haven’t you called?” Her agent didn’t sound amused.

She guessed she couldn’t blame him. It must be a bit nerve-racking to have your hottest property disappear without warning.

Karl went on. “I tried your number all day yesterday but all I got was that detestable machine you insist on using to screen your calls.”

She forced a light laugh. Karl knew how much anxiety that screening diverted. Her anonymous caller had stopped trying to reach her after she’d installed that machine. Apparently he was too smart to leave a voice trail for the police. “What’s so urgent it couldn’t wait?”

Paper rustled over the wire and she could almost see him adjusting his glasses. “Well, Muffy Fenderson invited you to a—”

“Send my regrets.”

“But Angelique, exposure is everything—”

“I’m not going, Karl. Anything else?”

He must have heard the note of finality in her voice. “Not really. Oh, some actor called, said he knew you and wanted your number to invite you to dinner. Janson Brand? I’d never heard of him.”

She’d met him during her first days in L.A. Nice enough, but not an acquaintance she wanted to renew. All she did want right now was to be left alone. “Tell anyone who calls I’m unavailable for an indefinite period.”

“Angelique!” Karl sounded almost panicky. “I can’t say that. It will bring the press sniffing around with even greater fervor than they’ve already shown. Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Karl, relax. I’m fine. You’re the one who told me I needed a break, remember?”

“But, darling, I seem to recall I suggested the South of France, with me dancing attendance.”

“The South of France sounds lovely. I’ll consider it.” She pressed on, conscious of a desire to conclude the conversation. Talking to Karl reminded her too much of all the things she wanted to forget about. “I’m going to be out of town for a few weeks. I’ll call you when I get back, okay?”

“A few weeks?” Her normally unflappable agent sounded distinctly taken aback.

Angel laughed with real feeling. “Don’t worry. I promise I’ll call.”

“No, wait! What if I get an offer you can’t refuse? At least give me your number.”

“All right.” She gave him the Red Arrow number. “But don’t call me unless there’s an emergency. I’ll call you when I’m ready to come back.”

* * *

After dinner, she helped Dulcie clean up.

“I’ll wash, you dry.” Dulcie tossed her a dish towel. As she ran a basin full of water to begin soaking the pans, she said, “You’ve surprised me.”

“I have? How?” Angel smiled as she put glasses into the dishwater, remembering that Dulcie used to be able to read her like an open book.

“You haven’t asked a single question about how my brother got mixed up with a famous face like Jada Barrington.”

“I did wonder—” Angel hesitated “—but I’ve learned the value of privacy and I try to extend it to other people.” Then she grinned. “Besides, I can hardly imagine asking Day. Your brother isn’t exactly thrilled with my presence here.”

Dulcie sobered. “I know. And I blame every ounce of his attitude on Jada. Day has gotten a lot harder and a lot tougher since his marriage ended. The worst of it is, it’s my fault they ever met. I regret that stupid bet every day.”

“What bet?”

“The bet I made with Day.” Dulcie sighed. “Several years ago we heard that Jada was filming a special project in Lake Valley, a ghost town north of here. They needed local cowboys as extras. I bet Day they wouldn’t use him and he went just to prove me wrong. Jada took one look at him and decided that he would make great publicity. She was just starting out then, remember?”

Angel nodded. She thought of the way Day’s jeans had molded his long legs, those unforgettable eyes and the easy confidence he wore like a favorite hat. It was easy to see how any woman would take a second look at Day Kincaid. But the man she’d met didn’t seem the type to be easily manipulated by a woman. “So she bowled him over?”

“Not exactly.” Dulcie’s words confirmed her first thoughts. “But he was flattered by all the attention at first. Jada can be very persuasive, and for a while I think Day honestly thought she loved him. Anyway, I’ll give you the short version. Jada got pregnant, and when Day found out, he married her even though he wasn’t happy about it. She’d never have roped him otherwise. Jada thought Day would dance to her tune but when she found out he had no intention of ever joining her in L.A., they had some knock-down-and-drag-out fights like you can’t imagine. The result was that she went back to L.A. before the baby was born. When Beth Ann arrived, Jada couldn’t have been less interested. Day brought Bethie here when she was three days old, and until last year, Jada hadn’t even seen her.”

“What changed that?”

“Beth Ann is three now. As she got older, it occurred to Jada that the mother angle will enhance her somewhat soiled image. She’s been insisting on visitation and hinting at custody for several months.”

“That’s awful if it’s the only reason she wants Beth Ann.” Doubt crept in because she couldn’t imagine anyone not loving that sweet little girl. And she knew better than most how vicious the press could be. Maybe she’d been wrong in assuming that Jada had mistreated her child. Maybe the woman wasn’t as bad as she had been made out to be. “Maybe she misses her and regrets the time she’s lost.”

Dulcie snorted. “And pigs fly. Whenever Beth Ann comes back from a visit to Jada, she’s a silent mouse who’s afraid of her own shadow. She’s terrified of getting punished for getting dirty and she shies away from sudden movements as if she thinks she’s going to get hit.” Her face darkened. “Day’s trying to get full custody and I, for one, am hoping he succeeds.”

Angel thought of the love in Day’s rough tones when he kissed his daughter’s forehead, and of the way he’d given her his exclusive attention when he’d danced her around the kitchen earlier. There was no question that he adored his daughter. If what Dulcie believed was true, then she, too, hoped Day would succeed in gaining full custody, for the child’s sake.