Single Dad's Christmas Miracle. SUSAN MEIER
nap, she stayed in the office with me.”
“Oh. Okay.” She smiled at Jack. “You and I certainly were immersed in our work.”
He smiled. But he didn’t say anything. She glanced at Clark then back at Jack.
He wasn’t afraid of his father. That she recognized from her own life. She knew what a frightened child looked like. But he was terribly unhappy.
She followed Clark to the kitchen, ducked into her suite behind it to wash her hands, then joined Clark and Teagan at the table. While Jack found paper plates and napkins, Clark opened the big pizza box. The scent of tomato sauce and pepperoni invaded the air, making Althea’s stomach growl.
“I guess this is what two days of going without food will do to you.”
Clark gaped at her. “You really did go without food?”
“I wanted to get here. I’d already been on the road three days. After I talked to Emily, I just wanted to keep moving so I could get here and get started.”
“I can understand that.” He glanced back at Jack. “Hurry up, buddy, or the pizza will be cold.”
At the easy way the term of endearment slipped from Clark’s lips, Althea frowned. He clearly loved his son. And with Teagan sitting on his lap while he cut her pizza into tiny pieces, it was also obvious that he loved his daughter. He was simply too much of an organizer. Someone who wanted everything to run like a well-oiled machine. Because everything was “working” he didn’t see anything wrong.
But there was plenty wrong. She could see it in Jack’s eyes.
They ate their pizza with Clark carrying on a steady stream of chitchat. When he announced he would be getting Teagan ready for bed, she asked if she could follow along.
His face scrunched in confusion. “Why?”
“With the housekeeper gone, it’s just good for me to know all the routines.”
He shrugged. “Sure. Great.”
She trailed behind him as he carried the little girl up the steps. They found her bedclothes first, then Teagan had a quick bath. She slipped into her princess nightgown and crawled under the covers.
Althea leaned against the doorjamb as Clark retrieved a well-worn storybook from the drawer in the white bedside table that matched the white frame of her canopy bed.
He read her a story about a bunny that had gotten lost in the woods. While most children’s eyes would droop as the story lulled them to sleep, Teagan’s eyes widened.
Althea frowned. Why read her a story that seemed to upset her?
But in the end the daddy rabbit found the lost bunny. He fed her soup, tucked her into bed and kissed her forehead, telling her he’d never let anything happen to her. She could always depend on him.
Happy ending.
Clark rose, tucked Teagan into bed, kissed her forehead and said, “I’ll never let anything happen to you.” He kissed her forehead again. “You can always depend on me.”
Teagan smiled. Her eyelids finally lowered. She snuggled into her pillow.
Warmth filled Althea’s soul. Using a story he had just told his daughter he’d always be there for her. A pretty smart move for a guy who obviously didn’t know how to say the words himself.
Clark motioned to the door. Althea turned and walked out into the hall with him on her heels, and the glow in her warming every part of her body. This was definitely a family worth saving.
But how?
* * *
The next morning when Althea stumbled into the kitchen, she found the quiet Beaumonts all seated on the tall stools around the center island.
“Good morning.”
Clark glanced up from his computer screen. “Good morning.”
Today he wore dark trousers, white shirt and blue tie. His hair neatly combed and his brown eyes bright with enthusiasm, he was clearly happy to be getting back to his normal routine.
Her attraction sparked to life again, but, as always with anything to do with her hormones, she ignored it. As she prepared a single cup of coffee using the directions on the side of the coffeemaker, she nodded at his laptop. “Working already?”
“Reading the Wall Street Journal online.”
Now why in the name of all that was holy had that sounded sexy? “Ah.”
She ambled to the center island. Clark pointed at a plate of French toast. “Breakfast?”
“Yeah. As soon as I have at least one cup of coffee.”
He rose and grabbed the black suit coat from the back of his stool. “If everything’s under control here, I’m going to go into the office right now. Even with email and fax machines, we couldn’t get everything done we needed to get done last week while I was home with the kids. And we’re hopelessly behind in preparing some important government bids.”
He shrugged into the charcoal-gray overcoat that had been flung across the unused table by the French doors.
“You never did tell me what you do for a living.”
“I own an engineering firm.”
“Oh.” The way he said that sounded sexy, too, confusing her. She wasn’t the kind of woman to fall for the executive type. She had been a sucker for beach bums. Which was why she kept getting her heart broken and her bank account depleted and why she’d stopped dating.
He motioned for her to walk him to the front door. When they were out of earshot of the kitchen he said, “My wife was the brains of the operation. She was actually the engineer. I’m just a lowly liberal arts major who took business courses at university after we realized Carol wanted to start her own firm, and she’d need me to run it. When she died, I had to hire two people to replace her.”
The casual, very calm way he talked about his deceased wife baffled her. Until she remembered that was sort of how Clark talked about everything. Casually. Calmly. With very little emotion.
“I also had to learn as much about the work as I possibly could so that I could speak intelligently to clients.”
“So you’ve had a long, difficult three years.”
Reaching for the doorknob, he frowned. “I would think that would go without saying.”
Yeah. She supposed he was right.
“Anyway, I’ll be back around six. All of my contact numbers are on a sheet in the kitchen. As you probably noticed yesterday, Teagan is fine coloring or playing by herself. Do whatever you would normally do with Jack’s lessons, etc. And then spend the rest of the day however you want.”
“You’ll bring dinner?”
He chuckled. “Yes.”
With a quick yank on the front door, he opened it and left.
She took her time returning to the kitchen. He wasn’t a bad guy. Actually, he seemed like a really nice guy—a gorgeous nice guy to whom she was unexpectedly attracted. But he was an executive who’d handled his wife’s death with the cool efficiency he probably spent on the company’s tax return. He had to use a storybook to show his daughter she could depend on him.
It wasn’t his fault that his kids were quiet, sad. Maybe even slightly lost. He handled things the way he knew how.
But his kids were quiet and sad, and slightly lost, and she ached for them.
In the kitchen, she glanced at Jack who wore jeans and a T-shirt then Teagan who wore little blue jeans with pink flowers embroidered on the pockets with a matching pink T-shirt. Her long dark hair had been combed, even though she didn’t have a clip or band to keep it out of her face.
She