The Parent Pact (Book Three of The Return to Redemption Series) Read online

  “Anyway,” he continued, recovering his composure, “I’m beginning to think this morning was shipped express from hell.”

  “Oooh.” Mandy covered her mouth with her tiny palms. “Aunt Sabrina says you’re not s’pose to say that word.”

  He heaved an impatient breath. He could explain the difference between using the term as a reference to the underworld rather than as a curse, but she was probably too young to understand. “You’re right, Kitten. I’m sorry.” He turned back to Annie and muttered, “Good thing she wasn’t around this morning when the toaster oven caught fire, and I burned myself on the frying pan.”

  “You set the toaster on fire?” Annie’s giggle morphed into a sputter. “I’d love to hear what you said then.”

  “Trust me. You wouldn’t.” He rolled his eyes. “I make a living using a phone, computer, and calculator. So when I burn my button-punching fingers, it’s tough to remember to censor myself.”

  “You’re still a new mother. You’ll learn.” Her dazzling smile hit him right in the solar plexus.

  He’d never believed in love at first sight, but he could understand how a guy might mistake this lightheaded kiss-me-baby feeling for more than simple attraction. Still, he’d be crazy to think about getting involved with a girl a decade younger, regardless of her sweet face and quirky sense of humor that was more refreshing than a pitcher of ice-cold lemonade in August.

  The school bell’s clang broke the mesmerizing spell between them, and she jerked her gaze away.

  “Thanks again for your help, Annie.” He squeezed her hand. “I’d appreciate it if you would spread the word about Erica. It’s the first day of school, so not many people know.”

  Still in a daze, he took his daughter’s arm and led her to the group of first-graders lined up at the school’s glass double doors. “Have a good day, Kitten. I’ll be waiting right here at three-o’clock.”

  He pressed his lips to Mandy’s forehead. She hung on his neck, planting a sloppy smooch on his cheek. Regret swelled in his chest. He’d been an idiot squeezing in so many breakfast meetings last year and denying himself the pleasure of taking her to school.

  As he swiped his hand across his cheek, Mandy pouted and pointed at him. “Daddy! You’re not s’pose to wipe off my kiss!”

  “I didn’t. Honest.” He kissed her again. “I was rubbing it in.”

  After Mandy trooped inside behind her class, smiling and waving to him, he turned and found Annie chatting with the dark-haired woman she’d been talking to earlier. Annie glanced over and caught him watching her. Her cheeks turned bright crimson.

  Nope. His ego hadn’t imagined the gazillion kilowatts arcing between them. She was definitely interested.

  His gaze inexorably drifted down to her dainty ankles. Annie couldn’t be more than five-two. The twinkle in her big round eyes and her short curls reminded him of a mischievous pixie.

  Ten years ago, he could have been arrested for even glancing at her—but there was no question about her being eligible now. Regrettably, she probably listened to completely different music and, no doubt, couldn’t even remember a world before CDs and cell phones.

  His failed marriage proved a relationship couldn’t be built on attraction alone. Thanks to Erica, he now understood he needed more than merely a physical connection to alleviate the profound loneliness that plagued him after tucking Mandy into bed each night.

  He cherished the hours he spent with his daughter, but he needed a wife who would be a partner to him—a woman to talk to and laugh at his jokes. Someone who would rub his shoulders, share time with him in front of a fire, and listen to his problems. And, if that someone happened to have the smile of an angel, so much the better.

  Despite every bit of logic screaming Annie was way too young for him, her mixture of sweetness and sass fascinated him. He smiled, unable to resist cocking an inquiring eyebrow at her, asking the unspoken question—your place or mine?

  Her friend’s furtive glances and horrified expression indicated Annie must have told her about Erica. They probably thought he was pure slime for flirting with a woman after losing his wife and unborn baby so recently. Especially since he’d hit puberty about the same time Annie was potty-training. How could they know it’d been two years since he’d been intimate with his wife?

  Nonetheless, to protect Mandy’s memory of her mother, he would continue to let the world believe Erica had been carrying his child when she died. They were welcome to think the worst of him because no way would he keep his life on hold a second longer simply to satisfy society’s idea of a proper grieving period.

  He’d finished mourning his marriage a long time ago and had stayed with Erica because of her illness and his daughter. Unless a father could prove abuse or neglect, judges usually still favored the mother for custody. He hadn’t been able to bear the thought of only seeing his little girl a few days a month—not to mention he didn’t trust Erica to give Mandy enough attention.

  His wife’s mood disorder may have compelled her to spend more time at the mall, the beauty salon, and seducing men from the country club than she had in making a home for him and their daughter, but she’d loved Mandy and had been better than no mother at all. Now, his daughter needed more than just her aunt’s occasional feminine influence in her life.

  Annie brushed a wisp of hair from her face, and a flash of gold on her left hand gleamed in the sunlight.

  Great. She was already married. From the way she’d smiled at him, he’d stupidly assumed she was single. It was just as well. She was way too young.

  She waved to her friend and strolled back toward him, calling over her shoulder to the other woman, “I’d better get home to Mitch. If I don’t give him some lovin’ before I leave for work, he’ll find a way to punish me.”

  Tyler could only pity her if her husband was anything like the selfish low-life who’d sired him.

  “You shouldn’t put up with him behaving like that,” he said when her path crossed his.

  “I don’t have much choice.” Annie sighed as he fell into step beside her, heading toward his car. “It would break my son’s heart if I got rid of him.”

  Or so she assumed. Her kid might actually applaud if she kicked his old man out. Tyler certainly would’ve celebrated if his mother had been strong enough to demand a better life for him and his sister. “I wasn’t suggesting making him leave. I was thinking of counseling.”

  “Right.” She snorted. “I can barely afford to feed the beast. I’m not about to waste money on a doggy shrink.”

  His jaw went slack. “Mitch is a mutt?”

  “Sure.” She laughed. “Who’d you think I was talk—” She glanced down at the ring on her finger. “Oh, right. It was my late mother’s. I wear it on this finger to keep sleazy lechers from propositioning me.”

  “Ouch.” He winced. “I occasionally have impure thoughts, but I’m definitely not sleazy.”

  “I didn’t mean you. I was referring to the married variety who assumes that, as a single mother, I’m willing to jump into bed with anyone.”

  “I’m grateful you’re not lumping me in with them.” He was especially glad to hear she was nothing like Erica. Despite the lunacy of his attraction, there was no denying his urge to get to know Annie better. Just because he dated and became friends with a woman, didn’t mean he had to marry her.

  “So what kind of dog is Mitch?” he asked to keep the conversation alive.

  “The vet says he’s mostly yellow Lab. He looks a lot like the dog from the movie Marley and Me, except he makes that animal seem well-behaved.”

  He could listen to her lilting voice all day, but if he wanted to ask her out, now was his chance. He wiped his sweating palms on his suit trousers. It had been nearly ten years since he’d asked anyone for a date. He flashed one of his most charming smiles at her, attempting to hide his nervousness. “So, uhh, how about dinner some evening?”

  Her eyes screamed a Harry-met-Sally Yes! But her mouth said, “Sorry, I do
n’t date. Not even reputable lechers. And I have sincere doubts about you, considering you’re asking me out less than three months after losing your wife.”

  “I know it may sound heartless, but if it weren’t for Mandy and Erica’s pregnancy, my marriage probably would’ve ended a long time ago.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, but I’m still not interested.”

  Evidently she needed to know a man longer than ten minutes before she agreed to break bread with him. At least she’d directed her rejection at his entire gender and not only him.

  “Okay.” He shrugged one shoulder, trying desperately to act as if her refusal hadn’t stung. “But I think we could have a good time. If you change your mind, let me know.”

  He opened his car door and glanced at the expensive watch his sister and buddy, Luke, gave him flak over. Wonderful. He had six hours to drive to and from his law practice in Princeton and squeeze in ten hours worth of work before he had to be back at the school.

  Originally, he’d intended to take the rest of the week off while he hired a housekeeper who would also look after his daughter. Unfortunately, last minute developments in his negotiations had put the kibosh on that plan.

  Even though hiring domestic help would solve his childcare problems, it wouldn’t buy Mandy the maternal TLC she craved. What she really needed was a stepmother. Ergo—he needed a wife.

  He’d been randy and stupid when he’d married Erica, letting his libido and professional aspirations blind him to what was important in a mate and mother. The next time, he wasn’t settling for a woman who would simply be an asset to him in his business and social life. He was holding out for the real thing. He wanted companionship and love. Unfortunately, years of loneliness had worn his patience to a frazzle.

  Maybe he could kill two birds with one stone and run a classified ad that read, Wanted: Young, sexy housekeeper to cook, clean, provide childcare, and warm the bed in the master suite. Future possibility of marriage. Sense of humor required.

  He slipped behind his car’s steering wheel and laughed. An editor would probably insist on placing that kind of ad in the personal column.

  Annie stopped in her tracks a few feet beyond his car and glanced back. “What’s so funny?”

  Ooops. “Nothing.” He suppressed his smile. “Would you like a lift home? Or did you walk to the school for the exercise?”

  “No. I get plenty of that working.” Her yearning gaze scanned his Jaguar. “My car is two trips away from the junkyard, and with the price of fuel, I try to go as many places as I can on foot power.”

  “Hop in.” He reached across the seat and opened the passenger door. “I’ll have you home in two shakes and a wigg—whistle,” he corrected, cringing inwardly. Idiot. And you wonder why you bombed with her.

  Her hesitation suggested she wasn’t sure whose home he’d been referring to. She blinked several times before she finally slid into the leather bucket seat next to him and ran her hand appreciatively over the dashboard as if she were sensually caressing a lover.

  Squashing the image, he shoved the gearshift into first. “Where to?”

  “Turn right. I’m less than mile down the main road.” She directed him to the dilapidated cottage situated directly across from the winding lane that led to his five-bedroom home.

  Annie’s tiny house had been built on the busy thoroughfare at least fifty years ago, long before the suburbs of Philadelphia had expanded northward and turned Bucks County into a haven for young executives. In recent years, the rolling countryside, previously dotted with picturesque farms, had been slowly devoured by high-priced residential subdivisions like his.

  Her home desperately needed a new roof and paint job. With every passing minute, his respect for her grew by leaps and bounds. It was obvious she was barely hanging on financially. But it was also equally apparent that she hadn’t let life beat her down.

  He’d lost count of how many times he’d listened to his neighbors gripe about what an eyesore her property was and how the town should condemn it. Still, her little bungalow was too reminiscent of his childhood home for him to pass judgment on it. He glanced across the street at the professionally landscaped entrance to his prestigious development. He’d come a long way from his shabby impoverished past—but not nearly far enough to forget it.

  He swung the car into her cracked driveway next to a rust-speckled subcompact and then jumped out to open her door.

  “Thanks for the lift.” She took the hand he offered to help her out of the car, and the air stalled in his chest. “I hope the rest of your day is better.”

  “You’re not the only one.” He blew out his breath, trying to ignore his schoolboy reaction to her simple touch. “I never realized what a tough job mothers have.”

  “It just takes a lot of love, devotion, and patience,” she said in a rehearsed tone that sounded as if she needed convincing as much as he did. “And laughter can’t hurt.”

  “I have the love and devotion covered. Hopefully, I’ll develop the patience and sense of humor before Mandy goes to college.”

  Otherwise the next twelve years were going to seem like an eternity—for both of them.

  Chapter 2

  Annie rounded the end of the produce aisle, listening to Noah chatter about his first day of school. He hitched a ride on the shopping cart and abruptly switched topics to one she’d dreaded discussing since seeing the flyer his teacher sent home that afternoon.

  “Ms. Winslow says, if I wanna be a Tiger Cub, I can join with a grandpa or an uncle, since I don’t have a dad. ‘Cept I don’t have one of them, either, do I?”

  Up until now, she had been able to fill all her son’s needs. The scout meetings and activities were to be held evenings and on Saturdays so dads could participate. Her father had a younger brother in Wisconsin, but that wouldn’t help Noah.

  “No, sweetie, we don’t have any relatives in Pennsylvania. But don’t worry. I’ll figure something out.”

  What, she had no idea.

  So far, the only question her son had asked about his father had been why he didn’t have one. She hadn’t known how to respond, so she’d given him a vague answer and told him lots of children didn’t have dads and that sometimes fathers left or died.

  She refused to lie to her child, but at his tender age, he was better off believing his father was dead than knowing he was one of the bottom-feeders of humanity. She had no idea how she would explain it all when her son asked for the full story. She simply had to trust she’d figure out a way when that day came. Noah was entitled to the truth about his no-good father. She just hoped her son would never realize when she first discovered she was pregnant a child had been the last thing she’d wanted in her life.

  She stopped short in the aisle, accidentally knocking Noah off the grocery cart. And the last person I want to see right now is Tyler Fitzpatrick.

  “I’m sorry, Pumpkin.” She helped Noah up, glancing past him to check if Mandy’s dad had noticed them.

  The man looked even more devastating in his black polo shirt and jeans than he had in his suit. That morning, his designer jacket had hidden the sharply cut muscles now revealed by the knit fabric stretched over his chest and shoulders like plastic wrap on leftovers. It was an absurd comparison since his chest was much more tempting than the dried-out roast chicken she’d wrapped up after dinner.

  He’d rocked her senses so hard that morning she hadn’t been able to shake the memory of his dazzling smile all day. Unable to face him again so soon, she made a sharp U-turn and ducked into the candy aisle.

  “Mom, where ya going?” Noah trotted after her. “We didn’t get any bananas.”

  “We’ll get some in a few minutes. I forgot something.” Like staying home.

  Distracted by the candy, Noah picked up a large bag of chocolate covered peanuts. “Can we get some M&M’s?”

  “Noah, we talked about this when I agreed to let you have Mitch. We can’t afford to feed him if we don’t give up some things we don’t
absolutely ne—”

  “Hi, there.” Tyler’s deep voice cut her off.

  Stiffening, she spun around and stared up at the dimples puckering his five-o’clock shadow. She jumped in front of her cart to obstruct his view of the reduced dented cans and last-day-of-sale meat she’d picked up. “Oh, uhhh....hi. How’re you?”

  Mandy pointed at the candy in Noah’s hands. “Daddy, can we get some M&M’s, too?”

  “Sure.” He threw a giant package on top of a bag of frozen shrimp, a container of Häagen-Dazs, and a pack of fresh pasta in his shopping cart.

  Noah returned the yellow bag to the shelf and shot a longing look at the candy teetering on the mountain of expensive groceries in the Fitzpatricks’ cart.

  “Aren’t you gonna get any?” Mandy asked him.

  “Nah.” He curled his lip. “I hate M&M’s.”

  The muscles in Tyler’s jaw flexed as he glanced at the bag of candy Noah had put back. The man plucked an avocado from his cart and smiled at Annie, clearly hoping to redirect the conversation. “Would you by any chance be able to tell me if this is ripe?”

  “N-no, it’s not.” She licked her lips several times, trying to work up some saliva in her parched mouth. “I’ve never personally eaten one, but the chefs on television say you should wait until the skin turns nearly black. They’re sort of like bananas. You shouldn’t refrigerate them until after they’re ripe.”

  Even though she’d always wanted to try an avocado—especially after she’d read how healthy they were—she couldn’t rationalize blowing over a buck on one tiny piece of fruit when she wasn’t even sure she’d like it.

  Several tense moments dragged by while Tyler glued his attention on her face. The fluttery feeling that had plagued her stomach that morning returned with a vengeance. Finally, he jerked his gaze away and whispered hoarsely, “Thanks.”