The Danforths: Toby, Lea and Adam: Cowboy Crescendo / Steamy Savannah Nights / The Enemy's Daughter. Sheri WhiteFeather
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since well before Sheila took off felt suddenly energized with the possibility of healing.
The fact that the house was a mess and dinner not on the table, nor anywhere near the stove as far as he could tell, didn’t damper the optimism rising in Toby’s chest. An empty belly was nothing compared to the chronic worry that divorce had permanently damaged his little boy.
“Daddy’s home,” he announced in a voice made deliberately gruff to keep it from cracking with emotion.
At the announcement, Dylan flew off the piano bench and into his father’s arms. Such wild enthusiasm was foreign to Heather who watched the reunion with something akin to amazement. The sight of this big man tossing his child in the air and catching him in a great, big bear hug made her heart beat against the barbed-wire barrier she had so painstakingly built around it. A similar greeting from her own father at that age would have likely sent her scurrying to her room in fear.
Heather’s reserve was partly due to her embarrassment about jumping to the conclusion that this man could be a monster when it was obvious that his little boy adored him. It was also partly due to the fact that she had no desire to get any closer emotionally to her new boss than was necessary to maintain her present employment. Having just been dumped by someone she trusted first and foremost as a mentor and only subsequently as a lover, Heather was not about to risk her heart romantically again.
Just because at first glance Toby Danforth appeared to be Josef Sengele’s exact opposite didn’t mean there were no similarities between them. Past experience had taught Heather that men in general were not to be trusted. Strong-willed men like her father and Josef were adept at manipulating for their own purposes those they claimed to love. And Tobias Danforth struck her as one of the most determined creatures on the planet.
The only difference was that neither Josef nor her father showed the propensity for outward affection that Toby did. That was something to be counted in his favor. Assuming the silver-framed photograph displayed on top of the piano was of Dylan’s mother, Heather was surprised that he hadn’t done away with all evidence of his ex-wife. Undeniably beautiful, the woman in the silver frame spent the better part of the afternoon staring accusingly at Heather. As disconcerting as she had found that, Heather knew by the way that Dylan’s gaze fell so often upon that lovely countenance that it was a comfort to him.
“I promise that I’ll get around to the housekeeping tomorrow,” she told her employer.
The apology in her voice was unnecessary.
“That’s all right,” Toby told her.
His smile was genuine and reassuring. That Heather suddenly felt jealous of the toddler nestled so safely in those strong arms of his father came as a shock to her. Having given up romantic complications in her life, she could do little but let her emotions wash over her without outwardly acknowledging them.
“What you’re doing with Dylan is far more important. What do you say I stick some frozen dinners in the microwave, and we can all relax in front of the television for the evening?”
Heather didn’t know what to say. The invitation sounded tempting.
And dangerous.
The truth was she was ravenous. And for a lot more than the man was offering. There was no real explanation for why she felt like taking off running in the opposite direction other than the fact that something about this man put her into fight-or-flight mode. She didn’t like what it said about her character that her body was inclined in the direction of the latter. Or that given the circumstances of her employment, avoiding Toby was going to be as impossible as controlling the chemical reaction that he set off in her every time he was around.
Heather’s stomach answered for her, rumbling deep and loud in a manner that belied her dainty stature.
“That would be lovely,” she said in a tone that gave away nothing of the conflicting emotions that left her feeling raw inside.
Three
“Fake it until you make it,” Heather repeated to herself again and again as she stared out the tiny window of the airplane that was waiting for permission from radio control to take her straight into the heart of the South and Toby’s family.
That same mantra helped her through innumerable recitals and contests over the years. Clutching a small purse in her lap with both hands, she did her best to pretend she wasn’t frightened out of her mind. Considering what an admirable job she had been doing of hiding that very fact from her employer for the past few days, it should have been a piece of cake. That the plane in which she sat barely qualified as a puddle-jumper didn’t do much to calm her nerves. When Toby told her that his uncle was sending his private jet to transport them to the family reunion, Heather had envisioned something far grander than the single-engine Cessna idling beneath her more like a motorcycle than an actual means of transportation designed to leave the ground behind.
“Are you all right?” Toby asked.
He reached across what only questionably passed as an aisle to peel one of her hands off her purse and take it into his own. He found her skin cold and clammy to the touch.
“Is there anything I can get you to calm your nerves?”
“I’m fine,” Heather said grimly through gritted teeth.
Her stomach lurched as the propellers began spinning. She covered her mouth with her free hand. Used to dealing with preperformance jitters, Heather dreaded the thought of vomiting into a paper bag next to a man who was showing her such touching concern. At least before a concert, one always had the option of discreetly slipping away to the privacy of an isolated bathroom.
Toby’s voice was as smooth as aged whiskey.
“Why in the world didn’t you tell me you were afraid of flying?”
Why not indeed! For the same reason that she couldn’t tell him she was afraid of the feelings that living with him had stirred in her. Standing on the edge of his close-knit family, she felt like a starving child with her nose pressed up against a candy store window without so much as a dime in her pocket. Unwilling to admit that, however, Heather forced an excuse through lips drawn in a thin line.
“I’ll be fine. It’s part of the job. I understood that when I accepted it.”
Glancing over Toby’s broad shoulder, she shot Dylan a brave smile. It was lost upon the child whose head was bent over the traveling musical keyboard his father brought along to entertain him. Even a three-year-old was more at ease with flying than Heather was. She felt like an idiot for letting Toby guess just how nervous she really was. Not that he had to do any more than look into her eyes to peer directly into her soul.
“I’ll be right back,” he told her.
Heather forced herself to let go of his hand as he rose to his feet. She was grateful that he hadn’t tried placating her with some platitude about there being nothing to be afraid of. That was how her father tried dismissing her fear of the dark when she was little. As had Josef whenever she waited in the wings for her turn to perform before a house filled with critics.
And right before he took her virginity from her.
Lies.
She was doubly grateful when Toby returned a moment later as promised, not with some condescending statement about air travel being safer then driving her car, but rather with a stiff drink in one hand.
“I hope you like whiskey,” he told her, passing her a tall tumbler. “You strike me more as the type who’d prefer an umbrella and a cherry bobbing in a fancy drink. But since I’m not much of a bartender, this is the best I could manage before the pilot announces it’s time to fasten our seat belts.”
Such instructions were unnecessary on her behalf. Heather had securely buckled her safety device across her lap the instant she sat down—and read every word of the informational materials provided in the back of the seat in front of her. Just in case an ocean happened to materialize between Wyoming and Georgia, she was prepared to use her seat cushion as a floatation