Full-Time Father

“Susan Mallery is warmth and wit personified.

Always a fabulous read.”

—New York Times bestselling author Christina Dodd

“Ms. Mallery’s unique writing style shines via vivid

characters, layered disharmony and plenty of spice.”

—Romantic Times BOOKclub

“A gifted storyteller, Ms. Mallery fills the pages with

multi-faceted characters, solid plotting and passion

that is both tender and sizzling.”

—Romantic Times BOOKclub

“If you haven’t read Susan Mallery, you must!”

—New York Times bestselling author Suzanne Forster

SUSAN MALLERY is a USA TODAY bestselling author of over eighty books and has been a recipient of countless awards, including the National Reader’s Choice Award. Her combination of humor, emotion and downright sexiness has made her a reader favorite. She makes her home in Southern California with her husband, her very dignified cat and her not-so-dignified dog. Visit her Web site at www.SusanMallery.com.

Full-Time Father

Susan Mallery

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my readers—

with heartfelt thanks for the support and

encouragement. You are the best part of writing.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Chapter One

“There’s a woman here to see you,” Kiki said, sticking her head into her boss’s office.

Parker Hamilton wasn’t really working, but he didn’t raise his gaze from the computer screen. The program wasn’t coming together. He couldn’t concentrate. Everyone had been telling him to slow down or he would burn out. He shifted in his chair and wondered if he could feel the heat of that even now. He would hate like hell if everyone had been right.

“I’m not interested, Kiki,” he said, still not looking at her. “Tell your friend she’s wasting her time.”

He didn’t hear his housekeeper move into the room, but he felt her presence. Sure enough his screen soon filled with her reflection. She was standing behind him, with her hands on her hips. The image wasn’t clear enough to see her face, but he knew her expression would be impatient. She’d been impatient with him a lot lately.

“You’ve got to stop staring at that little screen,” she said. “You’re going to go blind. Or worse. Your eyes will change shape until they’re square, like your monitor.”

He punched in the Save command, then spun in his chair until he was facing her. His housekeeper was probably in her early fifties, although she was very coy about her age. As usual, she was dressed in a jogging suit. She must own dozens. Parker had seen a rainbow of colors, all with matching athletic shoes. Today she was dressed in fuchsia. He didn’t know they made shoes in that color.

“How is having my eyes change shape worse than going blind?” he asked. Kiki had the most interesting, if illogical, mind.

“Don’t try to change the subject. You have a visitor.”

“You’re the one who brought up my eyes,” he reminded her. He flashed Kiki a smile. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do. I know you worry about me. But—” He glanced out the window, not really seeing the view of the Pacific Ocean, but instead looking in the black ugliness of the past. “I’m not interested.”

Kiki shook her head. Her short blond hair fluttered over her forehead before settling back in place. “You think I don’t know that? In the last couple of years I’ve paraded every single woman between twenty and thirty-five through here. Believe me, Parker, I’ve given up on you. This isn’t one of my friends. I think—” She paused thoughtfully, something she almost never did. “I think you’ll want to talk to her.”

With that Kiki left.

Parker rose from his chair and started after her. Irritation battled with curiosity. His housekeeper could easily deal with anyone trying to sell something. If it wasn’t one of her friends, then who?

He came down the stairs and across the large foyer. The house was large, too large, but he didn’t plan on moving. He’d made peace with his surroundings if not with himself.

The front door was open. A woman stood on the porch. She had her back to him as she stared at the wide lawn and the flowers edging the driveway. The back of the house butted up to the edge of the cliffs. Beyond the terrace there was only the drop to the ocean. All the yard was in the front.

He had a brief impression of shoulder-length dark hair, touched with a hint of red. A loose-fitting cream sweater fell to slender hips. Jeans covered her long legs. His gaze dropped lower, and he smiled slightly. Her athletic shoes were white. Apparently she didn’t share his housekeeper’s compulsion to have everything match.

“May I help you?” he asked.

She turned toward him. Recognition slammed into his gut. Her eyes were hazel and tilted up at the corner. Her generous mouth was straight, but he knew what it would look like smiling. He knew about the dimple in her right cheek and how her laughter sounded. Five years ago, hers had been the only laughter in this empty house.

Regret followed recognition. Regret for how he’d treated her and regret for how easy it had been to let her go. He’d been the worst kind of bastard. Not only had he broken her heart, but he’d used her to forget.

She stared up at him, her hazel eyes searching his as if he were a stranger. Five years was a long time—they were strangers. They’d always been strangers.

He took in her clothing a second time. She was dressed more conservatively than he remembered. He raised his gaze to her face. There was something different in her expression. A wariness. He grimaced. Why wouldn’t she be wary of him?

“Hello, Stacey,” he said quietly.

She looked startled, then shook her head. “Mr. Hamilton, I’m not Stacey Ridgeway. I’m her twin sister, Erin.” She held out her hand to him.

He took it without thinking. Her skin was smooth and cool. Instead of releasing her fingers, he held on, as if to keep her from bolting. Not Stacey? Was that possible? “You look just like her.”

“We were identical twins.” She glanced at the hand he was still holding. “Mr. Hamilton, we need to talk. May I come in?”

“Of course.” He let go of her, then moved back, pushing the door open wider.

She stepped inside and gave him a quick smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Her eyes. He stared at her. They were different. He hadn’t been imagining it. Twins. Had Stacey told him she was a twin? She might have. She’d talked a lot, but he’d never listened. The sound of her words had blocked out the pain and that had been enough. It hadn’t mattered what she’d been saying.

“This way,” he said, motioning to a set of open French doors on the far side of the living room. It was late June and the afternoon sun would be warm on the terrace. Fog rolled in that morning, but had long since burned away.

They crossed the hardwood floors, their athletic shoes barely squeaking on the polished wood. He tried to think of something to say. He hadn’t seen Stacy in five years. Had he given her a single thought after she’d left?

On the terrace he held out a chair for Erin and tried to remember that time. It was a blur. He knew he’d felt guilty about what had happened and what he’d said. He also admitted he’d felt relieved when she had left. He’d never thought to go after her, or check on her. Is that what her sister wanted? A piece of his hide for not giving a damn? Five years was a long time to carry a grudge.

Erin sat at the small table and folded her hands in her lap. He took the seat across from her and continued to study her face, trying to see the differences. It was a pointless exercise. He didn’t remember enough about Stacey.

“You’re probably wondering why I’m here,” she said.

He listened to the sound of her words, trying to figure out if their voices were the same. He thought they might be. “I wasn’t expecting you,” he admitted. “It’s been several years since I’ve seen Stacey.”

“Five,” she said, confirming his assumption.

She bit her lower lip, then drew in a quick breath. Gathering courage, he thought. But for what?

“Mr. Hamilton—”

“Parker, please.”

She nodded. “Parker, I don’t know how much you remember about my sister.”

“She interned with me for a summer.” At least most of a summer. Until circumstances—no, he was determined to be honest with himself if no one else—until he had driven her away. He didn’t regret her leaving, but he was sorry for how he made her go. “We—” He fumbled for words. Got involved? He hadn’t been, although he had a bad feeling Stacey had believed herself to be in love with him.

“There were some misunderstandings,” he said at last. “I take full responsibility.”

Her gaze met his. “I see,” she said. Those two words carried a powerful message. He could tell by the look on her face that Erin Ridgeway knew the details of that summer. She knew what he’d done to her sister.

He resisted the urge to spring to his feet and pace the terrace. Okay, he’d been a bastard, but he hadn’t done anything Stacey hadn’t wanted. God knows she’d been throwing herself at him for weeks before he’d finally given in. She’d been over twenty-one. An adult.

Sell it somewhere else, Hamilton, a voice in his head muttered. She had been twenty-two and nowhere near grown up enough to handle you. He swore silently at himself and at the voice for speaking the truth.

Before he could think of something to say, Kiki swept onto the terrace. She walked over and set an old polished silver tray on the center of the table. There were two mugs, a coffee carafe, sugar, cream and a plate of brownies she’d made that morning.

“The coffee’s fresh,” Kiki said. “I ground the beans myself.”

Erin glanced up and gave her a polite smile. “Thank you very much.”

Kiki nodded. “No trouble. Mr. Hamilton rarely has visitors. I enjoy having people in the house.” His housekeeper looked at her and shook her head. “You sure look exactly like your sister.” She poured coffee and set a mug in front of each of them. “She was a lovely young woman. Very bright and funny. She brought a lot of life into this old house.”

Erin’s eyes widened. She’d reached toward her cup, then paused, her hand frozen in midmotion. “Stacey lived here?”

“All the interns did,” Kiki said. “There are plenty of bedrooms. Town is too far away for them.” She gave an exaggerated shrug. “Those college students always wanted to be working on the computer programs. Morning, noon and night. The world would have ended if they’d had to spend time actually driving back and forth. I would guess half of them never ever noticed the view from their bedrooms.” She motioned to the twinkling blue of the Pacific just beyond the terrace. “Mr. Hamilton never notices, either. All he does is work.”

She gave him a look that told him she hadn’t forgiven him for being so tardy to dinner the previous night that he’d not only ruined her roast, but had also made her late for her date.

“I made the brownies myself,” she said, pointing at the plate. “And not from a mix. Eat up.” She glanced at him and raised her eyebrows. “You, too, Mr. Hamilton.”

With that she walked across the terrace to the far door and entered the small hallway that led to the kitchen.

Parker picked up the plate and offered it to Erin. “Please try one. Kiki is an excellent cook and she gets very upset if she isn’t appreciated.”

Erin took one of the brownies and set it on a napkin. But she didn’t taste the treat. Instead she stared at him. “I hadn’t realized my sister lived here.”

Parker had to clear his throat before speaking. “Yes, well, there were about six students in the house at the time. She was very well chaperoned.” He snapped his mouth shut. Not well enough, he reminded himself, fighting an unfamiliar heated sensation. At first he couldn’t figure out what it was, then he realized he was embarrassed. “At the time, it worked out best for everyone. Kiki was right. The interns did work constantly. I never required all those hours, but they would get caught up in their projects. I don’t know if you’re familiar at all with computer programming, but it can get very intense.”

She reached for the cream and poured a little in her coffee. She stirred the mixture slowly. “That’s what Stacey used to tell me.”

He leaned back in his chair. “Did Stacey send you here, Ms. Ridgeway?”

Her gaze met his. Her eyes widened and her mouth parted in shock. The color drained from her face. “You don’t know.” Her lips pulled into a straight line. “Of course you don’t. How could you?”

Uneasiness settled over him. “Know what?”

“My sister is dead. She died four years ago.”

This time Parker gave in to the impulse and rose to his feet. He crossed the terrace to the waist-high stone wall that ran around the perimeter of the open area and stared out at the sea.

Stacey Ridgeway was dead. He probed his emotions and encountered compassion for her family, regret—always regret—for what he’d done and remorse because he wouldn’t have the chance to explain or apologize. No sadness or longing. He’d barely known her. If her twin sister hadn’t come calling, he would never have thought of her again.

“I’m sorry,” he said, turning toward Erin and leaning on the stone wall. “It must have been very difficult for you and your family.”

Erin nodded. “It was hard on me. Stacey was the only close relative I had.”

Wariness joined the other emotions. Wariness and a faint hint of cynicism. He was a wealthy man. He’d sold his software company a few years back for several million dollars. He continued to develop programs that earned him an embarrassingly high income. Erin Ridgeway wouldn’t be the first woman to come looking for a free ride.

“While I appreciate the tragedy of the situation, I’m not sure what it has to do with me,” he said, wondering how much this was going to cost him. Even if the woman in front of him never got a dime, lawyer fees were expensive.

Erin tried to take a sip of coffee, but her hands were shaking so badly, she could barely hold the mug. She set it down. “I know what you’re thinking,” she said, not meeting his gaze.

Somehow, he doubted that.

“It’s been so long,” she continued. “Why am I here now? The truth is, I didn’t know who you were until a few weeks ago. Stacey never told me your name. Before she died she said it was her fault and it wasn’t fair to bother you with the responsibility. I didn’t agree with her. But until I knew your name, I had no choice but to stay silent.” She looked at him then, her hazel eyes dark with pain.

“I was angry,” she told him. “At the mysterious man who’d ruined her life. At her for dying. At Christie for messing up my plans.”

“Who’s Christie?” he asked, not sure he understood what Erin was talking about or whether he believed her display of emotions. Were they genuine or was she a good actress?

She reached down and collected her small purse. After opening it, she pulled out a photograph. “My sister never told me anything, Mr. Hamiliton. Nothing about you or what had happened here. We were attending different colleges. I saw her for a few days that last summer when she came home from her internship here, but that was all. We didn’t spend Christmas break together. I realized later that she was avoiding me. She didn’t want me to know. I didn’t have a clue until the hospital called to say there were complications.”

His stomach clenched tight like a fist. Parker stared at her. Foreboding surrounded him and chilled the air. “What complications?”

Erin stood up and started toward him. When she was less than two feet away, she handed him the small picture. He took it without looking at it. He wanted to watch her face as she told him her story.

“What complications?” he repeated.

“My sister died of complications in childbirth. She was pregnant when she left here. The baby…Christie…is your daughter.”

A daughter? A child? His child?

Parker stared at her, hearing the words, absorbing their meaning, but not sure if they had any connection to him. A child. He had a child?

His gaze never left hers. Hazel eyes widened slightly. He watched the emotions race across her face. Confusion, compassion, fear. Why was she afraid? He wondered what she was seeing on his face. Most likely shock. That’s what he felt. Stunned shock, as if he’d plunged into an icy river and couldn’t catch his breath.

He struggled to remember that night with Stacey. Everything was a blur. Shame and guilt colored all the memories that hadn’t been erased by alcohol. He recalled enough to know they’d had sex. He’d taken her again and again, hoping the act would blot out the past, but it hadn’t. Instead he’d remembered everything and in doing so, he’d forgotten Stacey.

He hadn’t used protection because she’d said she was on the pill. Had she been lying? If so the child could be his.

Or Erin Ridgeway, if that was even her real name, could be trying an age-old scam to make a few dollars for herself.

“How do I know she’s mine?” he asked.

He expected her to get defensive and start talking about blood types and DNA as proof. Instead she motioned to the photo he was still holding.

“Just look at her. I always knew she didn’t look like Stacey or me. Now I see she gets her features from you. The eyes, the shape of the mouth, although I have to warn you, personality wise, she’s just as lively as my sister was.”

Still he resisted looking down. Maybe because he didn’t want to know. Maybe because, in his gut, he already knew the truth. Erin Ridgeway didn’t know how to lie well enough to pull off something like this. Everything she said was true, including the fact that he had a daughter.

He braced himself, tensing all his muscles before looking down. Even so, the picture caught him off guard. It was like taking a sucker punch to the belly. All his air rushed out and he fought against the need to double over.

The photo showed a small girl laughing in a park somewhere. She wasn’t looking at the camera, instead the snapshot had caught her in a moment of childish joy. Her arms were in the air, one knee was raised as if she was skipping or jumping. Her hair, in pigtails, flew out behind her. Sunlight illuminated the area, making the trees glow as if lit from within.

He cataloged all that information quickly, almost unconsciously, then he turned his attention to the child’s face. Her eyes crinkled with amusement, but he could still see the shape. Her mouth was open wide with laughter, but he knew what she would look like if she smiled. There was something familiar about the way she held her head.

He recognized her.

“How old is she?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“She turned four in early May.” Erin stared at him. “Are you all right?”

He shook his head. “Not really.” He continued to stare at the picture, memorizing it.

“I guess this is sort of a shock.”

He glanced at her and forced himself to give her a smile. “That’s an understatement.” He returned his attention to the photo. “I never knew about her.” He’d never sensed her presence in the world. That didn’t seem possible. His child had existed for over four years, and he hadn’t had a clue.

“I’m sorry,” Erin said. “I would have come sooner, but as I already told you, Stacey never told me who you were. When she passed away, I asked a friend to pack up her room at home. All these years I never thought to check her personal papers.” She shook her head. “I should have. I only found out about you recently because I was packing up to move and I finally went through her things. I found her diary and in it she mentioned your name.”

He wondered what else she’d mentioned, then figured it wasn’t important. The past was over. All that mattered was the child.

“Where is Christie now?” he asked. Christie. The name was unfamiliar on his tongue, but he liked it. Had Stacey had the chance to name her daughter before she died or had Erin chosen the name.

“At our motel. We’re staying in town.”

He frowned. “You left her alone?”

“No.” Erin smiled. “I drove up with a friend. Joyce is watching her.”

He supposed she’d come for money. Child support. A college fund. He opened his mouth to say all that would be arranged. He wouldn’t ignore his responsibilities. Instead he blurted out, “I want to meet her.”

Erin’s hazel eyes darkened with pleasure. The dimple in her cheek deepened. “I’m glad,” she said. “I didn’t tell her why we were up here. I wasn’t sure what you would say or if you would even believe me.”

“This kind of proof is difficult to ignore.” He shook the picture.

“But I wasn’t sure she looked like you. She could have taken after another relative.”

“But she didn’t.” He studied the photograph again, marveling that she really existed. “When can I see her?”

Erin pushed up the sleeve of her cream sweater and glanced at her watch. “It’s nearly eleven now. What if I bring her back at two o’clock?”

Three hours. It felt like a lifetime. “Sure.”

“Great.” Erin started for the small table. She collected her purse, then nodded at the picture. “Would you like to keep that?”

His hold on the photo tightened. “Yes. Thank you.” He followed her to the front door. “Do you know how to get to town?”

“I have the map I used to find my way here. I’ll be fine.” She glanced up at him. The top of her head was an inch or so shy of his chin. “I’m glad you want to meet her, Parker. She’s a wonderful little girl. Very outgoing, friendly, she’s almost never shy. Do you want me to explain things to her before we get here?”

Things? “You mean tell her that I’m her father?”

“I—” She cleared her throat. “She’s always wanted one, a daddy, as she says. I thought it might be easier to try to answer her questions before she met you, but if you would prefer to do it yourself—”

“No,” he said quickly. “Go ahead and tell her what you think is best.”

“I’ll make sure she realizes you didn’t know about her until today.”

Now it was his turn to hesitate. “Thank you,” he said. “You’re being very understanding about this. I’m still a little stunned.”

“Why wouldn’t you be? A perfect stranger waltzes into your home and tells you that you have a child you never knew existed. I appreciate how well you’re handling the situation.”

They stared at each other. Parker knew she was wrong about one thing. She wasn’t a perfect stranger. He knew very little about her personality, but he was familiar with her looks. It was almost eerie, staring at Stacey’s face but knowing Stacey was gone. He didn’t remember her well enough to be able to pick out the subtle differences in their features, assuming there were any.

Erin’s hair was shorter, barely brushing her shoulders. Stacey’s had fallen nearly to her waist. A tactile memory flashed through his mind. The feel of silky hair being crushed between his eager fingers. He pushed it away, along with the guilt.

He studied her small nose and wide mouth. The latter curled up into a smile and the dimple formed on her right cheek. “We’ll see you at two,” she said.

“I look forward to it.”

He watched her walk to her car. It was a white four-door sedan, probably five years old. Sensible rather than flashy. As soon as she started the engine and drove away, he realized how many questions had gone unasked and unanswered. Was Erin married? He tried to remember if she’d worn a wedding ring. Had she officially adopted Christie after Stacey’s death? What was she going to tell the little girl about him?