Читать книгу Who's The Daddy? - Judy Christenberry, Judy Christenberry - Страница 9

THE FIRST DRESS had to be replaced when she discovered it was too tight.

Fortunately, she made another discovery—an emerald green silk dress, with a V neckline that dipped dangerously low. The flowing skirt ended right at the knees and fluttered every time she moved. If he was a leg man, she’d definitely get his attention.

Max Daniels may have thought she’d tortured him before, but he hadn’t seen anything yet.

After perfecting her makeup, she ran downstairs and poked her head through the kitchen door. “Everything okay?”

Mrs. Lamb, working at the huge sink, smiled distractedly. “Oh, yes.”

“Thanks. I’ll get the doorbell when it rings.”

She didn’t have long to wait.

Speeding to the front door, she threw it open, a welcoming smile on her face. It faltered when she discovered not one handsome man, but three, on the doorstep.

And none of them looked happy.

“Uh, come in,” she muttered, stepping back.

Max glowered at her as he crossed the threshold, and the other two looked uneasy.

“Are you here to see my father?” she asked Adrian and Prescott.

Before either of them could answer, she heard footsteps behind her, and her father’s voice answered.

“They’re here as our guests for dinner, of course, just as Mr. Daniels is.”

She turned to face him. “Max and I are dining on the patio.”

Her father hadn’t bothered with her since he brought her home from the hospital, but he smiled now as if they were perfectly in tune. “I know that was your plan, Caro, but I told Mrs. Lamb you’d changed your mind. I thought we’d all dine together.”

Several responses ran through Caroline’s head, the foremost of which was to kick her father in the shins and grab Max’s hand and run. Definitely too immature. And if she challenged his decision and insisted on being served on the patio, it would cause Mrs. Lamb a great deal of trouble. And her father would probably just move his guests to the patio, also.

Leaving her no choice but to grin and bear it.

“I see. My apologies, Max. I’m afraid my plans have gone awry.” At least she wanted Max to know she hadn’t included her other—whatever they were—in the invitation.

“No problem,” he murmured, but he was glaring at Adrian and Prescott, not even looking at her.

Determined to draw his attention, she slipped her hand into his. When he looked down at her, she leaned against him ever so slightly. “I’m glad you came.”

His indrawn breath as his gaze fell to her neckline gave her some satisfaction. She grinned when his eyes met hers. At least he wasn’t ignoring her now.

“Let’s all go to the sun room and have a drink while Mrs. Lamb finishes preparing dinner,” James suggested, acting the genial host.

In the sun room, Amelia was sitting in a pool of light from a nearby lamp, industriously stitching.

“Good evening, Mother,” Caroline said, wondering if she should offer her a kiss on the cheek. She concluded it probably wasn’t a habit. This family, her family, seemed as disconnected as any she’d ever seen.

“Good evening, dear. How are you?”

It gave Caroline a warm feeling to know that her mother hadn’t forgotten her physical problems, at least. Perhaps she was wrong to think her family was uninvolved.

“Much better. My headache is almost gone.”

“You had a headache? That’s unusual, Caroline. You should ask Mrs. Lamb for some aspirin.”

So much for the warm fuzzies.

“Caroline is still suffering from her concussion, Amelia,” James explained.

“Oh, yes. You were in the hospital. Nasty places, hospitals.”

James seemed to suddenly realize everyone but Amelia was still standing. “Please, be seated. I’ll serve drinks. Adrian, Prescott, your usual?”

Caroline resented her father’s effort to make it clear that the other two were frequent guests. She turned to Max even as she tugged at his hand to lead him to the sofa where her mother sat. “What will you have, Max?”

“What are you having?” he asked.

“My usual,” she assured him with a grin, “a club soda.”

Her mother continued her stitching, but the men in the room stared at her as if she’d just revealed a national secret. “What’s wrong?”

“How did you know what you usually have?” James demanded, taking several steps toward her.

Realization of what she’d said set in, and she shook her head slowly. “I…I don’t know.”

Her father slapped his palm down on the bar. “Damn it, Caroline, why can’t you remember the important things?”

“You think I’m doing it on purpose?” she retorted, irritated by his words. She was just as frustrated as her father at her inability to recall her life.

“Really, James, your behavior is inappropriate,” Amelia said, still calmly stitching.

“Sorry.”

“Is a club soda what I usually have?” Caroline asked in the silence that followed.

“Yes,” Prescott said, speaking for the first time. “You always say alcohol gives you a headache.”

Even Max nodded in agreement. “And I’ll have the same.”

“Mr. Daniels, are you sure you want a club soda? The rest of us are having Scotch,” James said.

Max withdrew his hand from Caroline’s and rose to walk over to the bar. “A club soda is fine.” He picked up the two her father poured and brought them back to Caroline.

“Maybe I’ll have a club soda, too,” Prescott suddenly said, smiling at Caroline.

She couldn’t resist sharing a smile with Max. Poor Prescott was so predictable. And Max’s smile was heavenly. Just as she was searching for a reason to take his hand again, the doorbell rang.

“Who could that be?” she asked, looking at her father.

He shrugged his shoulders.

“I would imagine it’s your sister,” Amelia stated as she continued to stitch. “She doesn’t feel like cooking and they haven’t found a housekeeper yet.”

“How can they afford a housekeeper?” James snapped. “Roddy isn’t the most successful stockbroker I’ve ever seen.”

“I told them you would pay for her,” Amelia said.

Caroline had to hand it to her mother. In her placid way, she had more effectively matched James than anyone Caroline had ever seen. Her father was gaping like a landed trout.

Chelsea and her husband entered the sun room, pausing at the entrance. “Hello, everybody.”

When greetings were offered, Roddy moved forward but Chelsea grabbed his arm to hold him back. “Well? Aren’t you going to say something?”

“What would you like to drink?” James asked, turning back to the bar.

“Not that, Daddy!” Chelsea said, pouting. “I’m wearing a maternity dress, my first.”

“It’s lovely,” Caroline murmured, hoping her low-key compliment would satisfy her sister.

“Thank you. When you need maternity clothes, Caro, you’ll have to ask me where to shop. I found some of the best places.” Chelsea’s superior air, while annoying, at least signaled she’d found a way to compensate for Caroline’s pregnancy.

Apparently satisfied with the response to her new dress, Chelsea allowed Roddy to lead her to a chair. “Get me some white wine, sweetums,” she cooed as she sat down.

“No,” Amelia said calmly, but her word had the effect of an explosion. Everyone stared at her.

Even Caroline was taken aback. In the little she had discovered about her mother, she assumed Amelia had nothing to say about anyone’s life in her house.

“What? I always have white wine, Mother. And I should be pampered. After all, I’m pregnant.” Chelsea pouted again.

“I’m sure your doctor told you to have no alcohol. It’s not good for the baby.”

“But surely one little glass of wine—” Chelsea began, but her mother cut her off.

“No. Have club soda like your sister.”

“Oh, of course! Caroline is always right!” Chelsea huffed, sliding down in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest.

“Your mother’s right, darling,” Roddy began with such tentative tones that Caroline fought the urge to chime in with encouragement. It wasn’t hard to decide who wore the pants in that family, even if they were maternity pants.

“I’m sure Mother heard that rule at the home for unwed mothers. And, of course, they shouldn’t indulge because they have no self-control, but I—”

“Also have no self-control,” James finished. “You’ll do as your mother says and have club soda.”

Caroline leaned toward Max. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’d planned on a private dinner. Then you wouldn’t have had to endure this argument.”

“No problem.”

She stared at him in irritation. The least he could do was look disappointed at having to share her with this mob all evening. Instead, he seemed quite interested in Chelsea’s performance.

Maybe he was attracted to Chelsea. Her honey blond curls, even if they were out of a bottle, gave her a little-girl look that some men found alluring. Caroline couldn’t remember anything about her relationship with Max, but she knew she didn’t want him attracted to her sister.

“Dinner is ready,” Mrs. Lamb announced from the doorway.

Amelia put away her needlework and stood to lead the way into the dining room. Beside each plate was a charming china name plate. Caroline was unhappy to discover Max was to be seated at the opposite end of the table from her.

“I’m afraid a mistake has been made, Daddy,” she announced, calmly exchanging Max’s name with Adrian’s. Instead of having her father’s two favorites surrounding her, she would have Max as a dinner partner.

“I just thought I’d like an opportunity to visit with our guest, Caro,” James protested.

“Some other time, Daddy.” She took Max’s arm and drew him to the chair at her mother’s left. He courteously pulled out the chair beside him for her, in the center of the table, opposite her sister.

Max wasn’t sure what difference it made where he sat at the big table. From the moment he’d met the other two men on the front porch, he’d realized the evening would be a disaster. He’d been an idiot to expect anything else, he decided.

An uneasy silence fell on the table as the housekeeper served consommé. Max may not have been brought up in a wealthy mansion, but he’d been taught good manners. He turned to his hostess.

“Do you do needlework for relaxation, Mrs. Adkins?” he asked politely.

His hostess looked surprised at his question, but she smiled. “Why, no. Actually, I’m doing it for an auction the home for the unwed mothers is having to raise money. It’s so expensive to care for all of them.”

“That’s very nice of you,” he said, and picked up his soup-spoon. As if he’d knocked a hole in a dam, words poured forth from Mrs. Adkins as she described all the ways the money would prove useful for her charity.

An occasional nod or encouraging word was all Max needed to contribute for the next few minutes. That gave him plenty of time to think about the brunette beauty beside him. She’d been on his mind for the past two months. Their two weeks together had been wonderful. Since then he’d wondered if he’d ever see her again.

Maybe he would’ve been better off if he hadn’t.

He sneaked a glance at her and decided that wasn’t true. If he had a chance to be with Caroline, then he wanted that chance.

“Do you have brothers or sisters, Mr. Daniels?” Mrs. Adkins asked.

“Why, yes, ma’am. I have three brothers and two sisters.”

“My, you come from a large family. Do they all work with you at your business? I believe my husband said you build homes?”

Max noticed Caroline leaned a little closer, as if trying to hear what they were saying. He grinned. She’d loved to hear him talk of his family. He’d assumed she had none of her own, but now he wondered if it was because hers seemed so distant to each other.

“Only my baby sister, Susan. She answers the phone when she’s not in class.”

“She’s in high school?”

“No, Susan’s a junior in college.”

“Was she the one who answered the phone when I called yesterday?” Caroline asked, proving that she’d been listening to their conversation.

“Yeah.”

“Did—did I meet her when we—while we were dating?”

“No.”

He hadn’t wanted to share her with his family. One introduction and they would’ve taken her in like a long-lost relative. So he’d put off taking her home to his mother. Until it was too late.

“Did I meet any of your family?”

“No.”

Her hazel eyes, with their dark lashes, rounded in surprise. He wanted to lean toward her and kiss her soft lips and tease her about her reaction. Instead, he sat stiffly, unsure what to say. How could he explain the sweetness he’d wanted to hold close, keep private, as long as possible?

“And you had the nerve to complain that I didn’t tell you about my family?” she whispered to him under her breath so her mother couldn’t hear.

“At least I told you about my family.”

“That’s going to be a little hard to prove since I can’t even remember you, much less what you told me!”

“Caroline,” her father called, pulling her attention away from Max.

“Yes?”

“I wondered if you wanted to have lunch with me tomorrow? You haven’t been to the office since the accident, and you used to come all the time.”

“She can’t,” Amelia said as she rang the bell for the next course to be served. “Tomorrow is her day at the home for the unwed mothers.”

“It is?” Caroline asked, seemingly surprised.

“I really don’t think that’s appropriate now, Mother,” Chelsea said. “After all, they might mistake Caro for one of the inmates and not let her leave at the end of the day.” She giggled, as if feeling her words were quite entertaining, but no one else laughed.

Max thought it best to ignore her remark. “What do you do there?” he asked Caroline.

The lost look on her face made him want to take her into his arms and comfort her, but that wouldn’t be appropriate dinner behavior. Besides, anything she did got that reaction from him.

“I—I don’t know. Mother, what exactly do I do there?”

“Why, Caro, you’ve done some wonderful things. You teach a cooking class, and you pay for a hairdresser to give free haircuts, and you teach them to read, too. Mrs. Brown is thrilled with your help.”

“A cooking class? I know how to cook?”

“Oh, nothing fancy. That’s why it’s so good. You teach them how to make easy, well-balanced meals. Mrs. Lamb helped you.”