The Jarrods: Temptation. Maureen Child

as he kept his gaze fixed on the window and the world beyond the glass. He couldn’t even look at her as he spoke and that ripped another tiny shred out of her heart.

      He had thought it best to leave her mother for a while, Erica told herself and wondered what her mother’s wishes had been. Then Walter was talking again and she paid attention.

      “Don Jarrod was here, in town, supposedly buying up a hotel or two. They met at the theater. Introduced by mutual friends,” he said that last word with a sneer, as if the sting of betrayal were still too sharp. Then he inhaled deeply and exhaled on a rush of words. “The bastard took advantage of her. I was out of the country, and Jarrod saw she was vulnerable, sad. He romanced her, seduced her and got her pregnant.”

      Erica swayed unsteadily, but kept standing. It all sounded so awful. So … tacky. How was she supposed to feel about this? She was the unplanned result of a hurried affair. Not the sort of thing a woman wants to hear.

      Walter was still talking. “Of course,” he told her, with a glance over his shoulder, “I didn’t realize your mother was expecting you until after we’d reconciled …”

      That’s when it hit her. “So you were separated when—” It didn’t really make it better, but at least her mother hadn’t been cheating.

      “Hardly matters,” Walter argued. “We were still married. Not that Don Jarrod would care about that. I loved my wife. I wanted our marriage back. Danielle assured me the affair was long over. Jarrod had returned to Colorado and we put it behind us. When she discovered she was pregnant, she went against my wishes and told him because she felt he had the right to know about his child.”

      “He knew all these years.”

      Walter snorted. “Yes. Naturally he got in contact. He wanted to be a part of your life—as if I would ever have allowed that. The scandal of it would have rocked this city. Ruined business, cost me clients. I couldn’t have that.”

      “Of course not,” she whispered, feeling another sharp slice of pain. Scandal was the one thing Walter wouldn’t tolerate. The idea of his friends and business associates knowing about his wife’s affair would have been unbearable for him. He hadn’t hidden the truth because of his desire to protect and love her, but to save himself embarrassment.

      This explained a lot, she told herself, her mind racing, darting from one thought to the next so quickly she could hardly keep up. As a girl, she had dreamed of a daddy who doted on her. After all, she was the youngest in the family by quite a bit. The youngest of her older brothers was still fifteen years older than she. Erica had grown up practically an only child. Her brothers were out and building lives of their own by the time she was a teenager.

      But Walter had never been the kind of father she’d yearned for. At last, she knew why. And Erica wondered sadly if Don Jarrod would have been any different. He was—or had been—much like Walter, a businessman first last and always.

      And yet.

      “He wanted me,” she said softly, more to herself than to Walter.

      “He wanted to ruin me,” Walter told her flatly. Some of the hot color drained from his features. “He tried to convince your mother to leave me. Go with him to that backwater out in the country. But she knew what was best. What was right.” He nodded with satisfaction. “Besides, I told her I wouldn’t hold her mistake against her.”

      “No,” Erica said softly. “You held it against me.”

      He stared at her. “I beg your pardon?”

      Erica’s pain was enveloped by a rising tide of regret and sadness. “Father, my whole life you’ve looked at me with barely concealed revulsion.”

      “Not true,” he said, but his gaze slipped to one side, avoiding her eyes.

      Even now, he couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t meet her gaze and admit to the truth. But she wouldn’t play the game anymore. She finally understood why she’d always been a little less worthy than her brothers and that in itself was liberating.

      “Yes,” she said, “it is. I used to wonder what I’d done that was so wrong. So awful to make you dislike me so much.”

      “I don’t dislike you, Erica,” he said, surprise coloring his voice. “I love you.”

      She wished she could believe that, but with her heart aching it was simply impossible. “You’ve never acted as if you do.”

      He squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. “I’m not an emotional man, Erica, but you should be well aware of my feelings.”

      “Until this moment, I wasn’t sure you had any,” Erica snapped, then lifted one hand to cover her mouth, almost as stunned as he was that she’d said such a thing.

      He looked at her as if she was someone he didn’t even recognize, and to be fair, Erica thought, she could understand his reaction. In her whole life, she’d never once spoken back to him this way. Stood up for herself. Always, she had tried to be the perfect daughter. To win a smile or a nod of approval from him. At this moment though, none of that meant anything to her. Right now, all she felt was her own hurt. Her own disappointment. Her own wish that things were different.

      “Erica,” he said, that deep voice rumbling out around her as it had since her childhood. “I am your father in every way that matters. Haven’t I always been here for you? Didn’t I raise you? Have you ever wanted for anything?”

      “Only your love,” she said, voice catching as she finally admitted to him that she’d felt that lack her whole life.

      “How can you say that?” His shocked expression told her exactly how surprised he was by her words.

      The tears that she’d managed to hold at bay all day finally began to show themselves. Irritated by their arrival, Erica quickly swiped them away with the backs of her hands.

      “I’m sorry, Father,” she said at last. “Maybe my coming here wasn’t a good idea. I didn’t want to upset you. Didn’t want us to tear at each other.”

      He took a single step toward her, then stopped, clearly unsure of his next move. Which was, she thought, another first.

      “Erica …” He paused as if gathering his scattered thoughts, then said, “Your mother wouldn’t want you to go. She’d want you to stay here. With your family.”

      Would she? Erica wondered. Or would her mother understand the need to discover her roots? God, what a clichéd way to think of this. But wasn’t it true? Wouldn’t she be exploring her past so that she could figure out her future?

      “I do love you, Father,” she told him. “But I’m going to Colorado. I have to. To meet my brothers and sister. To find out if I belong there any more than I do here.”

      “What’s that supposed to mean?” His bellow was completely unexpected. Walter Prentice never lost his temper. Or at least, he’d never allowed anyone to witness it. “Of course you belong here, this is your home. We’re your family.”

      “So are they.”

      “You will not do this thing.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I forbid it.”

      Erica had to smile through her tears. Typical of this man, she thought. If he couldn’t sway, he would command, fully expecting that his opposition would fold and do exactly as he wanted.

      Still, she loved him and wished he would sweep her up into his big arms and tell her this was all nonsense. That of course he loved her. Always had. Always would. She wanted to be cuddled against her father’s broad chest and reassured about her place in the world.

      But that wasn’t going to happen.

      Sadly, she faced him. “You can’t stop me, Father, so please don’t try.” Erica walked to the door and opened it but before she could slip through, his voice halted her.

      “If you don’t find