Brambleberry Shores: The Daddy Makeover / His Second-Chance Family. RaeAnne Thayne

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      She cleared her throat and forced herself to meet his still-veiled gaze. “Chloe should have a great day today. We have lots of fun things planned for the children.”

      “Great. I know she’s excited—more excited than she’s been about anything in a long time.”

      “That’s what we like to hear.”

      “Okay, then. I guess I’ll see you later.”

      He turned away and headed out the door. Sage watched him for only a moment—but even that was too long and too revealing, apparently. When she turned back to her campers she found her assistant director watching her with a knowing look.

      “You know, it’s really too bad you’re not the kind of woman who would consider a summer fling,” Lindsey murmured as Eben closed the door behind him.

      Wasn’t it? Sage thought, but she quickly turned her attention to the children.

      * * *

      He was dead meat.

      Roast him, fry him, stick him on a spit. Sage Benedetto was going to kill him.

      With one eye on the digital clock on the dashboard, Eben accelerated to pass a slow-moving minivan towing a pop-up trailer. He was supposed to have been at the nature center to pick up Chloe twenty minutes ago and he was still an hour away from Cannon Beach.

      Sage might have disliked him before—their disturbing, heated morning kiss notwithstanding—but her mild antipathy was going to move into the territory of loathing if he didn’t reach her soon to explain.

      He was beyond tardy, approaching catastrophically, negligently late.

      He steered the Jag off the highway and dialed the center’s number again, as he had done a half-dozen times since the moment he had emerged late from meeting with his team of Portland attorneys.

      He’d gotten a busy signal for the last half-hour, but this time to his relief the phone rang four times before someone picked up. He recognized Sage’s low, sexy voice the moment she said hello.

      “Hello. Eben Spencer here,” he said, feeling far more awkward and uncomfortable than he was accustomed to.

      Somehow she seemed to bring out the worst in him and he didn’t like it at all.

      “I’ve, uh, got a slight problem.”

      “Oh?”

      “I’m afraid I’m just leaving Portland. I had a meeting that ran long and, to be perfectly honest, I wasn’t paying attention to the time. I’m hurrying as fast as I can, but I won’t be there for another hour, even if the traffic cooperates. I’m very sorry.”

      He heard a slight pause on the line and could almost hear her thinking what a terrible father he was. Right now, he couldn’t say he disagreed.

      “No problem,” she finally said. “I’ll just take her to Brambleberry House with me. Conan will be over the moon to see her again.”

      “I can’t ask you to do that.”

      “You didn’t ask. I offered. And anyway, I certainly can’t leave her here by herself. I could take her to your beach house but I wouldn’t feel right about leaving her alone there either. I don’t mind taking her home with me. Like I said, Conan will love the company.”

      “In that case, thank you.” He had to struggle not to grovel with gratitude.

      Until this week when he’d been forced by circumstance to bring Chloe along, he wasn’t sure he had fully comprehended how much he relied on nannies to take care of details like making sure Chloe was picked up on time. It was all a hell of a lot harder on his own.

      He always considered himself a pretty good employer but he was definitely going to make sure he paid the next nanny more.

      “You live in the big yellow Victorian down the beach, right?”

      “Right. It’s got a wrought-iron fence and a sign above the porch that says Brambleberry House.”

      “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He paused. “Thank you again. I owe you.”

      “No problem. You can pay me back by taking Conan for another run in the morning.”

      Her words conjured up that kiss again, Sage all sleepy and warm and desirable in his arms, and his stomach muscles tightened.

      “That’s not much of a punishment. I enjoyed it more than he did,” he said, his voice suddenly rough. He had to hope his sudden hunger didn’t carry through the phone line. “I’ll be glad for the chance to do it again.”

      “Don’t speak too quickly. The weather forecast calls for a big storm the rest of tonight and in the morning. You’ll be soaked before you even make it out the front door. I, on the other hand, will be warm and dry and cozy in my bed.”

      He didn’t even want to go there. “I still think I’ll be getting the better end of the stick, but you’ve got a deal.”

      “We’ll see you in a while, then. And Eben, you really don’t have to rush. Chloe will be fine.”

      He severed the connection and sat for a moment in the car, surrounded by lush green foliage in every direction.

      He shouldn’t be filled with anticipation at seeing her again. He couldn’t afford the distraction—and even if he could, he shouldn’t want so much to be distracted by her.

      What was the point, really? He wasn’t interested in anything short-term. How could he even think about it, with his eight-year-old daughter around? And he certainly wasn’t looking for any kind of longer commitment or if he were, it would never be with a wild, free-spirited woman like Sage.

      With a sigh, he put the Jag into gear again and pulled back onto the highway. Best to just work as hard as he could to finalize the deal with the Wus so he could take Chloe back to San Francisco, back to his comfort zone where everything was safe and orderly and predictable.

      The storm Sage had mentioned hit just as he reached the outskirts of town. The lights of Brambleberry House gleamed in the pale, watery twilight, a beacon of warm welcome against the vast, dark ocean just beyond it.

      The house was a bit more than she described, a rambling Queen Anne Victorian with a wide front porch, elaborate gingerbread trim and a voluptuous tangle of gardens out front. Painted a cheery yellow with multi-colored pastel accents, it looked bright and homey, the kind of place that for some reason always made him picture bread baking and the sweet, embracing scents of home.

      He blinked the random image away and hurried through the rain to ring the doorbell, grateful for the wide porch that kept him mostly dry.

      Despite the sign above the porch, he thought for a moment he might have come to the wrong house when a stranger answered the door. She had dark hair, solemn eyes, and an air about her of efficient competence.

      Her mouth lifted in an impersonal, slightly wary smile. “Yes?”

      “Hello. СКАЧАТЬ