Full-Time Father. Susan Mallery

daughter?”

      Erin turned as if to check that Christie was out of earshot. The girl was digging for crabs. “She thought you wouldn’t want to be reminded of a four-year-old mistake.”

      The bright sun heated the air and danced on the top of the waves. Christie looked up at him and smiled. He smiled back. “Is that how you thought I’d think of her? As a mistake?” He kept his voice low.

      “I was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt.”

      “I’m glad.”

      He still didn’t know anything about Erin Ridgeway. This could be a scam to get money out of him. But he didn’t give a damn. He knew Christie was his and that’s all that mattered.

      The girl stood up and raced toward them. She stopped about a foot in front of him and stared up. Her eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “Angela Bedford’s daddy is a policeman. What do you do?”

      “I design programs for computers.”

      “We have computers at school. I like them.” She shrugged casually. “I like puppies better, though.”

      Erin burst out laughing. She swooped down and pulled her daughter close. “I’m going to tickle you into behaving.”

      “I’ll behave! I’ll behave!” Christie shrieked, but didn’t try to pull away. She wiggled close and threw her arms around Erin’s waist.

      Parker watched them, feeling like the odd one out. The relationships between children and parents were unfamiliar to him. His family had never been affectionate. He didn’t remember either of his parents playing, tickling or even teasing him.

      “She’s a monster,” Erin said, looking up at him and smiling. “Should we throw her to the other sea monsters?”

      “Nah, they’d just spit her back.”

      “Spit?” Christie repeated, sounding outraged. “They would not spit me back. They would make me their princess and I would have a castle under the sea and you would miss me very much.”

      “I think I might at that,” Erin said, then dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “We better head back up. I still have to talk to your father about a few things.”

      “Okay.” Christie ran to the stairs and started to climb.

      Parker brought up the rear. He walked slowly marveling over how easily Erin referred to him as Christie’s father. Of course he was, but the word was unfamiliar. He reminded himself that she’d had longer to come to terms with that. She’d known for weeks. He’d only found out a few hours ago.

      Questions spun through his mind. What did Erin want from him? What was his place in Christie’s life? Did he have one and did he want one? Underlining it all was a thin thread of fear that came from the knowledge of how easily all this could be destroyed. He’d done it before.

      When they reached the pathway, Christie raced ahead of them. She paused every few feet to bat at the crepe myrtle, laugh, then run again.

      Erin placed her hand on her chest and drew in a deep breath. “I need to exercise more,” she said between breaths. “Those stairs are a killer.”

      He pushed a branch out of the way so she could duck under it. “Do you have a job?” he asked as he caught up with her.

      She laughed. “Of course. What did you think? I’m an elementary school teacher.”

      “I thought there might be insurance money, or something.”

      Erin shook her head. Her hazel eyes darkened with emotion. “There was a little when Stacey died, but not much. I stayed home with Christie that first summer. Having an infant thrust upon me with no warning was a shock.”

      “I can relate to that.”

      She smiled, exposing the dimple in her right cheek. “I’ll bet you can. I didn’t know how else to tell you.”

      “You did fine.” He touched his hand to the small of her back. She jumped a little, so he dropped his arm to his side. “Had you always planned on becoming a teacher?”

      “No, but with a child to raise, it seemed the most sensible plan. I could get off work at a decent time and have summers with her. I used the last of the insurance money getting my credentials and went to work when Christie was a year old.”

      They’d reached the gate. Parker opened it and Christie raced across the lawn. She started spinning around, then collapsed on the smooth grass and stared up at the sky.

      “I wish I’d known,” he said.

      “Do you?” She shrugged. “I don’t mean to sound surprised, but I tried to get in touch with you after Christie was born. I didn’t think you were her father, but I thought you might know who was. All my letters were sent back unopened.”

      Guilt flooded him. “I’m sorry. I’d sold the company and told them not to forward any mail. I didn’t think anyone would be trying to get in touch with me.”

      And he hadn’t wanted to have any contact with the world. After Stacey had left, he’d fallen apart. Pain and guilt had overwhelmed him until getting through the day had been more than he could manage. He’d betrayed his wife’s memory—traded in their special love for one night of passion. One night of trying to feel alive. It was as if Robin’s death had killed him, too. God, he’d missed her. He still did. Sometimes missing her was all that kept him going.

      “We all survived,” Erin said as she headed for the front door. “Now, we start over.”

      Christie bounced to her feet and skipped toward her. Parker stared at the child and battled regret over the first four years he’d lost.

      Kiki was waiting in the foyer. “Did you enjoy the beach?” she asked.

      Christie nodded vigorously. “It’s beautiful. We saw birds and I got a piggyback ride. I almost caught a crab, but it kept digging and digging and I can’t dig that fast.”

      Kiki ruffled the girl’s bangs. “You can catch it next time.” She glanced at him. “Why don’t you show them around the house? It’s very unusual.”

      “If you’d like,” Parker said, looking at Erin for her approval.

      She nodded as they walked into the living room. “It’s a great old place. When was it built?”

      “In the 1920s by an eccentric millionaire who made his money in railroads, lumber and oil. Much of this room is original,” he said. The open-beamed ceiling soared nearly twenty feet high. Dark wood broke up the plain white walls. There were huge windows that looked out onto the terrace and the ocean beyond. Opposite, smaller windows gave a view of the front yard. Dark blue leather sofas and chairs were grouped together in conversational areas. Bold paintings, some modern, some old, added color to the room.

      Erin walked over to the one above the fireplace. It showed a wild storm raging against an island. “Did you pick these out yourself?”

      “Some I have because I like them, others are investments. That one I bought because of how it made me feel.” He still remembered how the anger and power of the painting had called him from across the gallery. He’d accepted an invitation to a showing on impulse. That had been about a year or so after Robin had died, when he was trying to put his life back together. The threads had remained unraveled, but the painting had allowed him to believe he wasn’t the only person dealing with powerful and unexplained emotions.

      “Very raw,” she said.

      Kiki walked across the hardwood floor. She pointed to the right hand wall. “This buffet and those two chairs are original pieces from the house. The former owner had much of the furniture custom-made.”

      From there they walked into the dining room. Again Kiki pointed out the original dining room set. Here the windows were smaller, but the view no less impressive. In fact, it was better than the living room