The Paternity Factor. Caroline Cross

realized he should have expected this. Jessy always had been a quixotic, kindhearted kid. She was the sort of person who cried over old movies, worried about stray puppies, championed the oppressed and defended the downtrodden. It was just like her to selflessly donate her time to an old family friend.

      Except that he didn’t want her help—much less these little ripples of feeling she kept causing in him.

      Yeah? Well, you’re not doing this for you, remember? You’re doing it for Chloe, so she can have some of the emotional security you’re incapable of giving her.

      That didn’t mean he had to be here, however.

      The realization brought him up short. He thought about it for a handful of seconds, then came to a sudden decision. “All right,” he said abruptly. “If that’s the way you feel.” Why argue about money? He’d simply decide on a sum and give it to her later. No doubt she’d be more inclined to take it once the reality of the situation caught up with her good intentions.

      Besides, he was now anxious to move on to other things. “Look. Why don’t I show you where the phone list and the emergency kit are, then you can see your room and the rest of the house. That way I can help you get your car unloaded before I have to go.”

      Jessy’s surprise was obvious. “You’re leaving?”

      “Yeah. I need to go into the office for a few hours.”

      “Oh.” She gave him an indecipherable look, then slowly nodded. “I see. All right.” She stood and held out her arms to Chloe. “Come on, cupcake. You can keep us company while your daddy shows me around, okay?”

      The toddler hesitated, clutching her doll to her chest. “Baby, too?”

      Jessy nodded. “Baby, too.”

      Chloe still didn’t move. Then, apparently suffering a belated attack of shyness, she scooted off the couch, scampered over to Shane and pressed herself against his legs. “Want Dada,” she mumbled.

      “Chlo—” Shane remonstrated.

      The little girl buried her face against his knees, refusing to look at either adult.

      Shane stared down at her small blond head. Part of him wanted to lift her up and hold her tight, to breathe in her sweet baby scent and assure her that Daddy was there and everything was going to be all right.

      And part of him wanted to step away.

      “It’s all right,” Jessy said, misunderstanding. “Really.”

      But it wasn’t. It was never going to be all right again, he thought savagely, clenching his jaw against a jab of self-disgust. Totally out of patience with himself, he reached down and swung Chloe up, settling her securely in the crook of one arm. “It’s okay, peanut,” he murmured. Raising his voice, he looked over at Jessy and said coolly, “I guess we’re ready.”

      She nodded, but the questioning look he was already starting to hate was back in her eyes. “Okay.”

      He glanced away. He was just tired, he told himself. He’d go to the office for a few hours, come home and get some sleep and tomorrow, or the next day, when the strangeness of the situation had worn off, he’d have himself back under control.

      Not that it mattered. Because the truth was, he’d gladly give up his control, this house, even TopLine itself, if he could only go back to the time before he’d learned Chloe wasn’t his daughter.

      Two

      “Elvis,” Jessy murmured as she stood at the front window and watched Shane’s car pull out of the driveway, “has left the building.” She glanced at her wristwatch, struggling against a sense of disbelief.

      It was a little after five o’clock, not quite three hours since she’d arrived.

      She asked herself what she’d expected. That Shane would stick around, maybe keep an eye on Chloe while she unpacked? That they’d sit down to some sort of dinner and talk—about his schedule, about who was going to tackle which housekeeping tasks, about Chloe’s wants, needs, likes and dislikes, fears and foibles?

      Or, better yet, that he’d suddenly break down and confess he was glad she was there?

      Well... Yeah.

      The admission prompted a slight, self-deprecating smile. Get a grip, Jessica. You volunteered to do this, remember? It certainly wasn’t Shane’s idea. And if his behavior is any indication, he isn’t exactly overcome with joy at having you join his household.

      Of course, now that she’d seen the house in question, she could understand his reticence.

      She turned, giving a theatrical shiver as she surveyed the living and dining rooms. Like the rest of the interior, they were done predominantly in white—carpeting, walls, woodwork and blinds. Also like the rest of the interior, they had high ceilings and windows that were strategically located to maximize the various views of the surrounding woods and lake.

      Jessy could see that the place had potential. Yet all that white, plus the absolute lack of such personal objects as artwork, keepsakes or photographs—not to mention such fundamentals as furniture—made it about as cozy as a glacier. She supposed she was biased, accustomed as she was to the clutter, color and organized chaos of her classroom, but to her mind it was definitely not the sort of warm, homey place best suited to raising a child.

      But then, from what she could tell, Shane wasn’t exactly trying to get himself voted Father of the Year, she reminded herself as she padded across the living room and stepped into the hall.

      Jessy shook her head and admitted she didn’t understand it. Not from Shane, who’d been the rock her own childhood had been built on.

      After her mother had walked out on them, she, Bailey and their dad had relocated from Denver to Churchill, which at the time had been just another small town outside of Seattle. For Jessy, the move had meant the loss of everything dear and familiar: her home, school and friends, her grandparents and her cousins. Even worse, her father had been extremely bitter about the desertion. He’d shut everyone out and buried himself in his new job, too caught up in his own feelings to pay much attention to anyone else’s.

      Bailey, on the other hand, had acted as if nothing had happened—except that he would walk away from the conversation anytime their mom was mentioned. At seventeen, he’d put all his energy into building a new life at his new school with his new friends, and because he was smart, athletic and exceedingly handsome, he’d been almost immediately accepted. That had left Jessy all by herself—bereft, bewildered and lonesome.

      She’d heard about Shane for weeks before she finally met him. He’d been Bailey’s new best friend, so she’d known he was captain of the football team and student body president, that he made straight A’s and dated only the prettiest, most popular girls. He’d sounded so perfect, she’d been fairly sure she wouldn’t like him. Not that it would matter. If he was anything like the rest of her brother’s friends, he probably wouldn’t even notice that she existed.

      Still, as luck would have it, their first meeting took place following her most disastrous day at school ever. She’d failed her math test, lost her book report, then gone without lunch because her dad had again forgotten to go to the grocery store. Things hadn’t gotten any better when Bailey had failed to pick her up after school the way he was supposed to, either. The class bully had pushed her in a mud puddle on her way home, causing her to skin her knees and tear her favorite dress. And as if that weren’t bad enough, when she finally did make it home, she’d found her brother was entertaining half the football team, while a note from her dad had said he wouldn’t be home until late.

      It had been too much. Too proud to cry in front of a bunch of teenage boys, she’d made it as far as the big tree in their backyard before she’d sunk to the ground and let the tears overwhelm her. It hadn’t been pretty. She’d cried until her eyes were puffy, her throat was raw and her nose was runny.

      The latter had