The Sheriff's Daughter. Tara Quinn Taylor

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СКАЧАТЬ in air, Sara counted to ten, squeezing fingers to her thumb as she did so. “No.”

      Two brawny, sweaty, unshaven young men were loading her dresser. Part of a set that was now split up.

      “Don’t you think you should?”

      Her father wanted what he thought was best for her, she reminded herself, while her mind screamed silently.

      The man was unfaithful to me! An adulterer, dammit. More than once. For years. How could you want him to ever come near me again?

      “He chose Chloe.”

      “You’re better for him. He’s going to realize that.” But he’s not better for me.

      “I wouldn’t be too sure about that. She’s going to be a high-powered attorney someday.”

      A furniture pad went over the dresser.

      “He has his own power. What he needs is a woman on his arm who knows how to make him look his best.”

      As much as Sara cringed at the description, she knew that her father had just paid her his idea of the highest compliment. How he survived in today’s world, with his chauvinistic views, she had no idea.

      “I guess he doesn’t think so.”

      One nightstand was next.

      “Did you split the mattress set, too?”

      “No. I gave him the set in exchange for the bed frame. I didn’t want the mattress we shared, anyway.”

      “What about the cars?”

      “I got the Lexus.” Leaving Brent the Expedition. She’d had to give up the boat, too, but it was worth it. She had no use for a recreational vehicle she could neither get into nor out of the water by herself.

      “Good for you.”

      With a nod, her father was gone—outside, giving last-minute instructions to the crew he’d hired.

      BY SIX THAT EVENING—the first of July, a new month, a new life—all boxes and belongings were off the truck. Just as the Two Man Movers van drove away, the pizza delivery guy pulled up. Paying him and taking the hot cardboard box, Sara climbed over cartons on the way to her new kitchen.

      The walls were green, but they were going to become yellow before the week was out.

      “Dinner’s ready!”

      She grabbed a beer for her father and a glass of diet cola with lots of ice for herself. Then she collected paper plates, tore paper towel off the roll to serve as napkins and fell onto an elegant dining-room chair in her ceramic-tiled kitchen.

      Brent had gotten the kitchen set, in spite of the fact that Sara didn’t have a formal dining room. So…eclectic was in. The set was made of handcarved cherry wood and the seats were extremely comfortable.

      “TV, VCR, DVD and stereo are all hooked up.” John Lindsay came in, stopping by the sink to wash his hands.

      She nodded. Half of the components were new. As was the entertainment center in her small sunken living room.

      Unscrewing the beer cap, he sat across from her, apparently unaware of the incongruity of sitting in his jeans and sweaty T-shirt in an informal kitchen on velvet brocade chairs. He loaded his paper towel with pizza slices. Took a hefty bite. Looked over at her empty plate.

      “Eat.”

      “I will.” Maybe after he left.

      But probably not. She’d had a banana a couple of hours before. And cereal for breakfast. She’d stay alive another day.

      “Now.” His dark-eyed gaze bore into her.

      Sara picked up a slice of pizza and watched her father eat. John Lindsay, retired and in his sixties, was still an intimidating man. Tall, lean, even now, with broad shoulders that never seemed to hunch, he commanded respect.

      He loved her. Sara had never doubted that.

      He glanced up and caught her staring. “What’s on your mind?”

      She could shrug, tell him nothing, and no more would be said. Or…

      “I met my son.”

      Hand on his beer bottle, he froze.

      “I’d given permission for the agency to reveal my identity, if he ever asked.”

      “Why didn’t your mother and I know about this?”

      “You wouldn’t have approved.”

      His glance was searching. And then he nodded, started to eat again.

      “He’s a cop, Daddy,” she said softly.

      “Where?”

      “Here. With the Columbus police. He’s on the Westerville beat.”

      “I know some guys over there.”

      “I figured you would.”

      “You want me to ask around about him?”

      “Would it matter if I said no?”

      “Probably not.”

      She grinned. “I didn’t think so.”

      He finished his pizza. Wiped his mouth. And sat back with his bottle of beer in his hand.

      “How long ago did you meet him?”

      “Over six weeks,” she told him and then quickly added, “I’ve only seen him once, when he showed up unannounced on my doorstep.”

      “Did he say why?”

      “He’s known about me since he was fourteen and he’s been keeping a watch over me, he said.” With a deep breath, she continued, “Which is how he found out about Brent and Chloe.”

      John frowned. “He’s the one who told you?”

      Nodding, Sara played with her pizza crust, twirling a thin piece back and forth between her fingers. “He thought I should know.”

      Her father didn’t look as if he agreed with her son’s decision and Sara was struck once again with her awareness of something she’d always known. Her father would tell her only what he thought was for her own good, withholding everything else. And his idea of what was good for her wasn’t necessarily hers.

      “What’s he like?”

      Sara smiled and held back the tears that arrived every time she thought about the handsome young man who’d shown up on her doorstep and turned her life upside-down. In so many ways.

      “Taller than you. Broad. Blond, СКАЧАТЬ