The Holiday Nanny. Lois Richer

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ “Yet you refuse to make time for her. Why?”

      He studied her, and like a thief, the notion crept into his brain—maybe this was Connie’s way of getting close to him. Maybe she was so anxious to find common ground between them that she was conning him into trusting her.

      “Something’s changed? What is it?” Her big gray eyes blinked up at him.

      “Ms. Ladden. I thought I had made it clear that there can be no relationship between us. I’m just not interested.”

      Her eyes widened. She froze for a moment then laughed. Her face was flushed a brilliant red, but embarrassment didn’t stop Connie from speaking her mind.

      “You idiot!” She stepped closer until they were almost nose to nose. “I’ll tell you one last time that I am not chasing you. I am not interested in you, Wade Abbot. I could never even consider a relationship with a man who leaves his daughter behind for months on end while he chases off to some foreign country.”

      “Now wait a minute. You don’t understand—”

      “Just to make this very clear,” she interrupted his explanation, her tone scathing, “I certainly wouldn’t bother myself over a man who ignores a sweet little girl so badly that she goes to bed every night asking herself what she has to do to gain her father’s love.” Connie stepped back. Her voice dropped. “Believe me, Mr. Abbot, you’re just not that appealing.”

      Then she turned and walked away.

      “I’m not sure Silver is my daughter.”

      The words pinged into the silence of the night like resounding gongs. Connie jerked to a halt and stood there, with her back to him, for perhaps ten seconds. Then she turned.

      “Why don’t we go inside?” she said quietly, her expression blank. “I’ll make us something to drink. Then perhaps we can hash this out.” Her eyes met his and held. “Because there is no way in this world that Silver is not your daughter. No way.”

      A second later, she’d disappeared into the hedge, no doubt headed for the kitchen.

      Wade had finally said it out loud, at last admitting the one thing he most feared.

      “I’ve just given her a reason for us to work together,” he muttered as he climbed the back stairs to his room. “How stupid can I get?”

      Stupid, maybe. But it was also a relief. He’d assumed, though it hurt him deeply, that the best thing was to stay away from Silver, not let her get too attached in case he eventually managed to do the right thing and return her to her real family.

      He had a hunch Connie was going to tell him that was the wrong approach.

      I’m not sure Silver is my daughter.

      The starkness of Wade’s voice when he’d said that still hurt Connie’s heart.

      A thousand questions tumbled around in her brain, but she stuffed them back and concentrated on mixing the hot chocolate packets with hot water.

      Help me help him, Lord. Let me be a ray of light in his darkness.

      “Miss Ladden—”

      “Whenever you want to reprimand me, or when you suspect me of something, you always call me Miss Ladden. My name is Connie. And let’s get one thing clear.” She motioned for him to sit on one of the stools. “I am not here for any reason but that I want Silver to be happy. In order for that to happen, she needs her daddy. Okay?”

      He nodded, took the cup she offered and began idly stirring it.

      “So?” She sipped her hot chocolate and waited.

      “I don’t know where to start.”

      “Start with why you left Silver here when you went to Argentina,” she suggested.

      “She was two. There was unrest in the country. I was working in a desolate region. It was no place for a child. To leave her in the city—” He shrugged. “Kidnappings are not uncommon in Argentina.”

      “But then why go there in the first place?” Connie hoped he’d explain and not tell her it was none of her business—which it wasn’t.

      “I didn’t have a choice.” Wade sighed, took a sip of his drink and began his story. “My father was not young when he met and married Amanda. I was twenty-four when their son Danny was born.”

      “Was Danny a problem for you?” she murmured.

      “No.” He smiled. “Danny was a sweetheart. Nobody who met him didn’t love that kid. He was a firecracker, and I adored being his big brother.” The smiled faded. “Danny and my father died in a car accident. And Amanda blamed me.”

      “Why?”

      “I was driving the car that night.”

      The stark pain in those words kept Connie silent. She prayed wordlessly.

      “It was my dad’s birthday. He loved golfing, so we’d spent the day at the golf course. Of course Danny had to come, too.” Wade’s lips twitched upward for a second. “The kid was a natural.”

      Silence yawned. But Connie didn’t break it, sensing that Wade needed to do this in his own time, his own way.

      “It started to rain—hard. I would have pulled over, but Dad wanted to get back home. Amanda had arranged a birthday party and he didn’t want to be late for it.” He took a deep breath and said the rest in a rush. “A car came up too fast behind us, slid into us and pushed us into oncoming traffic. Dad had turned, trying to calm Danny. The impact forced a rib into his lungs, which collapsed.”

      “And Danny?” Connie held her breath.

      Wade looked straight at her, his face like stone, his body hunched over as if he’d been struck.

      “His seat belt came undone. Amanda later claimed it had never been done up. Danny was thrown from the car. He died.” His white face barren of all expression, Wade continued. “Amanda couldn’t forgive me. With Dad’s shares, she had a majority in the company. To punish me, she persuaded the board that I was needed in Brazil to finish a project. I didn’t argue. I just wanted to get away.”

      He needed something to draw him from his private agony.

      “Brazil is where you met your wife,” Connie said.

      “Bella. Yes.” He nodded. But the joy she’d expected to see in his eyes wasn’t there.

      “What was she like?”

      “Beautiful in an exotic kind of way. Long, curly black hair and olive skin. Dark expressive eyes. Very Latin in demeanor. Bella loved to dance. She was always the highlight of any party.” The words came out like little staccato beats, without expression.

      “And you had Silver.”

      “Yes.” Wade smiled, but he didn’t continue. Why? Was his wife’s death too painful?

      “Bella СКАЧАТЬ