A Dad for Billie by Susan Mallery Page B

and attempting tomake her look older. Or sitting on his porch, watching the sunset, a sleeveless blouse exposing her tanned arms, while the gauzy full skirt she wore outlined the curvy lines of her legs.
    “I’m busy,” he said curtly, as much to disconnect himself from his thoughts as to send her away.
    “This won’t take but a moment.”
    He made a show of closing the top folder, then glancing impatiently at his watch. “Yes?”
    She took a step into the office. The room was large, and he’d taken advantage of the space. Bookcases lined two walls. The big walnut desk that had been his father’s was the centerpiece of the room. A comfortable chair with its own table and reading lamp stood in one corner. The couch sat between the desk and door. About five years ago he’d pulled up the heavy rug and had refinished the hardwood floors. It was a comfortable room; a place he could work in.
    Her hands fluttered nervously around her waist. She linked her fingers together, as if to still the movement, then rubbed her palms back and forth against each other.
    “Sit down and stop fidgeting,” he said, pointing to the couch.
    “Sorry.” Jane walked the three steps, then perched on the edge of the sofa. The black leather provided a perfect backdrop for her delicate features. The harsh color outlined the shape of her head, the curve of her cheek and the graceful sweep of her neck. She wore her hair pulled back.
    “A nuisance,” she’d said, when, years before, he pulled at the ribbons and freed the silky tresses.
    “Beautiful,” he’d replied.
    Her innocent blush had thrilled him, as he had then taken what no man had seen or touched.
    He shook his head impatiently. “What do you want?”
    “To apologize.”
    He raised one eyebrow and waited.
    “Not about Billie. She hasn’t done anything.”
    “Yet,” he said.
    The corner of her mouth raised slightly. “Yet. It is one of the hazards of raising a tomboy.”
    “But worth the trouble.”
    She looked surprised. “I wouldn’t have thought—”
    “I’d never hold your behavior against your child, Jane. If you’d taken the time to know the man you were running from, you would be aware of that.”
    Hazel eyes flashed anger, as their color darkened to green. “If
I’d
taken the time? You’re the one who couldn’t bear to be away from your precious bank. I always came tenth on a list of five items. Don’t talk to me about—” She stopped, her mouth still open to form more words. She clamped her lips together and sighed. “I didn’t come here to fight.”
    “Why did you?”
    “At church this morning…I’m sorry about all that. I should have thought…” She hunched her shoulders as if waiting for him to berate her for not thinking—again. When he didn’t, she went on. “Those people, they all stared at us. I’d forgotten what a small town can be like. There will be rumors. I didn’t want to cause you any more trouble.”
    He rose from his desk and walked around it until he stood in front of her. After moving a couple of folders, he perched on the corner nearest her. “I can handle it, if you can.”
    She nodded. “People will talk, though.”
    He shrugged. “I’ve been through it before.”
    “I know. I’m sorry about that, too.”
    “Forget it.”
    “I can’t.”
    “Then it’s your problem.”
    “You dismiss me so easily, Adam, but then you always did. I was too young and foolish. I was never like those other women you dated.”
    His temper threatened to flare but was put out by her words from the past. “I’m not like those other women.” The phrase echoed over and over again. It had been winter. January, maybe, and cold for South Carolina. He’d started a fire and had spread a blanket for the two of them. They’d been kissing for hours, petting. He’d touched her breasts under the wool of her sweater, but when he tried to take off her bra, she’d resisted.
    “I’m not like those other women,” she said, her hazel eyes wide