A Sweetheart for the Single Dad. Victoria Pade

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СКАЧАТЬ that he was completely unaware of, things that would flare up when he least expected it.

      Did Candy really want to move to Vermont or was she not telling Harmon she didn’t?

      Was Harmon calling the shots with Sam, with Sawyer’s visitation and participation in his son’s life, or was Candy merely using him as an excuse to make Sam’s upbringing go the way she wanted it?

      Was it possible that Candy hadn’t been so okay with sharing custody of Sam these past four years and moving to Vermont was her passive-aggressive way of cutting Sawyer out of his life?

      Sawyer didn’t know.

      And he sure as hell couldn’t say he was any good at deciphering what was really going on with her.

      At the start, when Candy was being so agreeable to everything about Sam, Sawyer had taken into consideration that she was the primary caregiver, so he’d agreed to Candy being Sam’s custodial parent.

      Now, as the custodial parent, if she petitioned the court for relocation, a judge would most likely grant the relocation petition.

      Besides Candy being the custodial parent, Sawyer’s brother had said that the court would consider the fact that Sawyer often had to travel for work while Candy was a stay-at-home mom whose livelihood depended on her husband’s income—an income that could be improved if Harmon took over his father’s practice in Vermont instead of maintaining his own failing practice in Wheatley.

      And off Sam would go to Vermont.

      So Sawyer didn’t want to go to court. But he might not have a choice. Because even though he thought it was possible that Candy honestly didn’t want to move, he also didn’t hold out much hope that she would openly admit it to her husband.

      When it came to the women in his life, he’d definitely had a pattern. On the surface they’d all been agreeable, considerate, seemingly selfless women he’d thought were perfect partners. The kind of perfect partner his mom had been for his dad for the past four decades.

      But instead of finding happily-ever-after the way his parents had, Sawyer had ended up accused and found guilty of relationship crimes he hadn’t even known he was committing. As a result, his marriage and what he’d thought was a relationship headed for marriage with Candy had been dead in the water before he’d even realized anything was wrong.

      And now his relationship with Sam could be on the line, unless he could rely on a woman speaking up—a woman he already knew was unlikely to do that.

      He tapped his fingers on his desktop agitatedly.

      He loved that kid more than he loved breathing. He couldn’t lose him to Harmon and Vermont.

      “Dammit!” he said under his breath, clenching his hands into two fists to stop the tapping.

      A knock on his office door caused him to sit straighter and call a “Come in” as if nothing was bothering him.

      His executive assistant poked her graying head through the door. “The day is done. I just wanted to tell you that the fliers for the Wheatley park project are on my desk waiting for you, and to say good-night.”

      “Thanks, Marybeth. Have a nice night.”

      “You, too,” the sixty-one-year-old answered before retreating and closing the door.

      Sawyer checked the time and discovered it was nearly five-thirty. He needed to head for Wheatley.

      He pushed his chair back and stood, shrugging out of his tan suit coat, taking off his tie, then unfastening the top button of his ecru shirt and rolling his long sleeves to his elbows.

      Casual got a better reception in Wheatley.

      In Wheatley where Lindie Camden was supposed to meet him.

      If she showed.

      Just the thought that she might helped to take his mind off his problems. And made him smile a little.

      Lindie Camden.

      Now that was an impressive ambassador to send to get on his good side!

      The Camdens kept a relatively low profile but pictures of them cropped up here and there. Sawyer never paid enough attention to know who was who, but they did all bear a resemblance to each other—enough for him to have a general image of dark hair, fine features and blue eyes that were apparently considered so remarkable that the local media called them the Camden Blue Eyes—as if no one else in the world owned a pair.

      To have the unusual request for an appointment followed by the appearance of a very un-Wheatley-looking woman in the community center’s rec room hadn’t made it a huge leap to suspect that that woman was the same one who had called. Lindie Camden.

      When she’d turned around he’d seen that she’d had plenty to go along with those eyes that were, he had to admit, remarkable.

      Lush, shiny, coffee-bean-colored hair down to the middle of her back. Skin like alabaster. High, well-defined cheekbones. Long, thick eyelashes. And full, sexy lips.

      All together with well-shaped legs, a rear end the skirt she’d been wearing hugged to perfection, the temptation of just-the-right-size breasts peeking from behind silk folds, he could imagine treaties being signed between warring factions just because she asked.

      Or at least he’d imagined it until she’d said she wanted to hire him. Then he’d reminded himself that he represented one side of those warring factions and that no matter how breathtaking the woman, he wasn’t surrendering.

      Take on Camden Incorporated as a client? Not a chance!

      But he had seen another opportunity. An opportunity to open those big baby blues of hers to some of the damage her family’s stores did.

      If, in the process, he also found the opportunity to get her pretty little hands dirty cleaning up the mess left behind? There was just enough orneriness in him to get a kick out of the possibility of that.

      Grabbing his discarded coat and tie, he took them with him as he went out of his office. A few of the people who worked for him were still there, wrapping things up for the day. After exchanging some small talk and good-nights, he picked up the fliers from Marybeth’s desk and handed over locking-up duties to his office manager.

      But Lindie Camden stayed on his mind.

      Would her hair be down again today? he wondered. What would she be wearing? Surely not a skirt as tight as yesterday’s or heels as high.

      Not that it would matter. The woman could walk around barefoot, in rags, and still be gorgeous.

      Had the Camdens thought that sending someone who looked the way she did would make him more apt to cave?

      It seemed impossible for her looks not to be part of the plan. They’d probably thought to blind him with her beauty so he’d be putty in their hands.

      Well, it wasn’t going to work. A pretty face was not going to derail him professionally or get him to turn his back on what he believed in or on the people and businesses he was glad to represent.

      And СКАЧАТЬ