The Borrowed Groom. Judy ChristenberryЧитать онлайн книгу.
As if he’d care.
She giggled at the thought. She could just picture the look of disgust on his face if she told him. He wouldn’t be impressed.
It didn’t matter. Unlike Jessica and Mary Ann’s parents, Rob Hanson hadn’t abandoned his daughter, even though she’d only been a baby when his wife had left them. Admiration filled her. He’d cared for his daughter when another man might’ve given up. And he’d done an excellent job.
She didn’t care if he didn’t want her opinion. She intended to tell him the next time she saw him what a good parent he was.
Rob didn’t get home until almost seven. He was tired, hungry, and worried. As he stepped onto the porch, the door swung open and Terri’s happy face greeted him.
“Dad!” She offered him a kiss on the cheek, a fairly unusual occurrence, which reflected her mood. Then she protested, “Eew! You smell.”
He cocked one brow. “No more than normal. Give me five minutes and I’ll clean up.”
After a quick shower and clean clothes, he returned to the kitchen, surprised by the delicious smells. For a twelve-year-old, Terri did a good job of throwing something together for dinner. But her efforts didn’t involve much actual cooking.
He watched as she carefully removed a casserole of some kind from the oven and placed it on the table. “You cooked?” he asked abruptly.
She beamed at him. “Melissa taught me. We made this casserole together.”
Before he could comment, she put a pan of rolls in the oven. Then she opened the refrigerator and withdrew a tossed salad.
He took a long drink from the iced tea she’d already placed on the table. Suddenly he noticed a complete place setting of utensils. Usually, she only put out a fork for each of them.
“How come we’re getting all fancied up suddenly?” he growled.
His heart sank as Terri stared at him, dismay in her gaze. “Don’t you like it? Everything’s so nice at Melissa’s, I thought I’d try to do better here.”
He took the napkin from beside his plate and spread it in his lap. “Sure I like it, baby,” he agreed heartily, hoping to erase that look from her face. “And the food smells great.”
She forgave his momentary criticism and soon they were eating. He’d worked hard all day, with only a brief break for a packed lunch. He was starving.
But he had to eat his meal with a constant stream of praises for Melissa Kennedy. Terri had had a wonderful day, it appeared. His worry had been for nothing.
Now he was really worried.
He knew he was right when Terri brought out half a chocolate cake.
“You baked half a cake?” he teased.
“No, silly. Melissa said she was glad to have someone to share a cake with. It would ruin before they could eat all of it, and that would be wasteful.”
“That was kind of her,” he muttered, and decided if he heard the fateful words “Melissa said” one more time, he’d throw the cake against the wall.
At least he would’ve until he tasted it.
He’d find something else to throw.
“Melissa said—”
“Terri!”
His unaccustomed snapping stopped his daughter in midsentence. “What, Dad? Don’t you like the cake?”
With a sigh he said, “The cake is delicious. But could you possibly start a sentence with something other than ‘Melissa said’?”
Her eyes rounded in surprise. Then hurt. “Sorry,” she muttered. And said nothing else.
The change from constant chatter to absolute silence was unnerving. Rob tried several topics of conversation, but Terri didn’t respond.
Finally he gave up and stood to clear the table. Terri carried her own dishes to the sink. “I’ll clean up,” he said. “After all, you did the cooking tonight. It’s only fair.”
“Melissa—I mean, I didn’t do much.”
He put an arm around his daughter and kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry I was an old grump, baby. I’m glad you enjoyed your day.”
His apology released a flood of words. While he washed the dishes, Terri told him again about her day, and how much she’d enjoyed being with the other females.
He frowned, feeling a little rejection.
As if sensing his feelings, Terri quickly added, “I didn’t mean I don’t like being with you, Dad. But Melissa—she knows so much about girl things.”
“Yeah.” Terri was right about that. Melissa Kennedy knew how to make a man ache. To make a man want. And he didn’t want to do either of those things.
A knock on the door disturbed them.
Terri hurried to answer it and reappeared in the kitchen a couple of minutes later with the one person he didn’t want to see.
Melissa Kennedy, accompanied by the two little girls.
“Good evening. I hope you don’t mind our visit,” she said with a smile as she entered.
“After that dinner, I could hardly object, now, could I?”
He’d meant to sound like he was teasing her and thanking her at the same time. Unfortunately, his voice had come out harsh.
She stiffened, apparently not fooled by the awkward smile he attached to the end of his words. “I’m sorry for the intrusion, but the girls wanted to see where Terri lived.”
Terri looked from him to Melissa and back again. Damn, he was going to be in trouble with his daughter if he didn’t do a better job. “No problem. Have a seat. I’ll be finished here in a minute.”
“Dad, can I show the girls my bedroom?” Terri asked. “I told them about my dolls and they want to see them.”
“Sure.”
He stubbornly continued to wash the dishes as the children left the room, reluctant to acknowledge that he was alone with Melissa.
But she didn’t sit down at the table. Instead he suddenly found her beside him, the cup towel Terri had been using in her hands.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know, but I’m more comfortable when I’m busy.” She picked up a plate and dried it. “Where do they go?”
He nodded to the cabinet in front of her. “Up there.”
She put the plate inside and picked up the other one. He scrubbed extra hard on the almost-clean Pyrex dish that had held the casserole.
“I have something to tell you.”
His head whipped around to stare at the beautiful woman beside him. Tonight her dress was mint-green, almost the color of her eyes. It fit snugly from the waist up, and he hurriedly looked away. “Yeah?”
“You’re a good father.”
He dropped the dish. Fortunately, the water cushioned its landing so it didn’t break. It only splashed him with water. Melissa took the cup towel and began blotting his shirt. He thought he’d die.
Melissa felt the hard muscles of his chest and stomach beneath the cup towel. Her mouth went dry. The man was like a rock. Visions of what he’d look like without the shirt filled her head, and she found herself staring into his blue eyes.
“Why did you say that?” he demanded harshly.
She took a step back. He sounded like a lion. “I—when I met you yesterday, I thought…you seemed hard.” Her face turned bright