The Tycoon's Secret Daughter. Susan Meier
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that she turned and headed for the elevator. Prickling with guilt, he leaned back on the sofa. But when the elevator doors swished closed behind her, he thought about how different things might have been if she’d told him about her pregnancy, and his anger returned. She hadn’t given him a chance to try to sober up. She hadn’t even given him a chance to be a dad.
Still, could he blame her?
A tiny voice deep down inside him said yes. He could blame her. He might see her perspective, but he’d also had a right to know his child.
He rose from the sofa and headed for his desk again. That’s exactly what his father had told him the night he’d confronted him about being his adopted brother Chance’s biological father. About bringing his illegitimate son into their home with a lie. A sham. An adoption used to cover an affair.
I had a right to know my child.
He ran his hand across his forehead as nerves and more anger surged through him. He hadn’t thought about that part of his life in years. His brother had run away the night Max had confronted their dad. Which was part of why Max drank. At AA he’d learned to put those troubles behind him, but now, suddenly, here he was again, wondering. Missing his brother with a great ache that gnawed at his belly. Because Kate was home and Kate was part of that time in his life.
Losing Chance might have been the event that pushed him over the edge with his alcoholism, but he wasn’t that guy anymore. He hadn’t been for seven long years. He only hoped seeing Kate, fighting with Kate, meeting a daughter he hadn’t known he had, didn’t tempt that guy out of hiding.
He grabbed his cell phone from his desk and hit the speed-dial number for his sponsor.
CHAPTER TWO
THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON, Max left the office at noon and raced home to put on jeans and a T-shirt. Something more comfortable, more casual, than a black suit and white shirt, so he didn’t intimidate his daughter. Or Kate.
Like it or not, he had things to make up to her. His sponsor, Joe Zubek, had reminded him of that. He had to take responsibility for everything he’d done while drunk, and he’d hurt Kate—mistreated her enough that she didn’t want their daughter to suffer the same fate.
He had to take responsibility.
He chose the Range Rover over the Mercedes and drove past the expensive houses and estates in the lush part of the city in which he lived. Once off the hill, he headed across the bridge, through Pine Ward’s business district to the blue-collar section of town where little Cape Cods mixed and mingled with older two-story homes and a few newer ranch houses.
He made three turns to get to Elm Street and there it was. The redbrick, two-story house he’d loved. Not just because Kate had lived there, but because it had a wide front porch and a swing.
He stopped his vehicle and simply stared at the porch, the swing. He couldn’t count the number of times he and Kate had made out on that swing.
His eyes drifted shut at the memory. She’d been eighteen to his twenty-four. Not necessarily a huge age difference but Kate had been sheltered. So he’d had to go slow with her, be cautious. But when they’d finally made love—in a room sprinkled with rose petals and filled with soft candlelight—oh, Lord. He’d known—he’d absolutely known—she was the only woman in the world for him. They were together for nine years. Four years of dating until she graduated university, and five years of marriage. When she’d left him, he’d missed her so much he sometimes thought his heart would wither and die.
And now she was back.
He popped open his eyes and yanked the key from the Rover’s ignition. It didn’t matter. He’d screwed up their relationship permanently and there was no going back. Besides, his current time with Kate wouldn’t be about them. It would be about their daughter. And he wouldn’t lose the chance to know Trisha by foolishly wanting to rekindle a romance that was dead. He’d killed it. He had to remember that.
He strode up the sidewalk and across the plank porch without as much as a glance in the direction of the swing.
When he rang the bell, Kate instantly opened the door, as if she’d been waiting for him. Wearing a short white shirt that didn’t quite reach her low-riding jeans, with bare feet and toe-nails painted a bright blue, she looked closer to twenty than thirty-five. Her thick dark hair swirled around her.
His racing heart stuttered. She wasn’t what anyone would call conventionally beautiful, but she had an innate sexuality that stopped most men in their tracks. Including him. After his thoughts in the car, thoughts of making out on a porch swing and making love to her in a hotel room filled with candles, he couldn’t keep his gaze from taking a second trip down her trim body to her sexy toes and back up again.
He had to swallow before he could say, “Hey.”
“Come in, Max.”
He stepped inside the simple foyer. Pale beige floor tiles led to hardwood floors in both the dining room on the right and the living room on the left.
She motioned to the peach-and-beige sofa and matching chairs—the same furniture that had been in the room when they were married. “Let’s sit.”
As he turned to go into the living room, he caught a glimpse of Trisha peeking out of the kitchen. She smiled shyly at him. His heart began to thrum in his chest. She had Kate’s pretty pixie face, his blue eyes. She was an adorable little image of both of them.
Kate also saw Trisha and she laughed. “Come on, sweetie. Don’t be shy. Come into the living room with Mommy.” Then she walked to the sofa, motioning for him to sit on one of the two club chairs across from her.
Trisha entered slowly, shyly, sidling up beside the arm of the sofa where her mom sat, as Max lowered himself to a club chair.
Kate didn’t waste any time. “Trisha, this is the man I told you about.” She paused just for a second. “Your father.”
Trisha glanced at the floor. “Hi.”
“Hi.” He’d never felt so much so fast. Fear and wonder filled him simultaneously, along with a fresh burst of anger. He was clumsy right now, tongued-tied with his own child because Kate had kept her from him. “I … um … it’s nice to meet you.”
Trish nodded.
Kate said, “Trisha will be starting second grade in the fall.”
“Second grade,” Max repeated, his tongue thick, his brain a ball of melting wax. Thoughts beeped in his head like neon signs. Had Kate stayed, he’d know his little girl. He might have seen her birth. He might have gotten sober sooner—
They might still be married.
He sucked in a breath. Told himself to stop those thoughts. All of them. He had to take responsibility. “That’s … I remember having fun in second grade.”
She peeked up at him. “I had fun in first grade.”
“Trisha’s a very good student. Her teachers love her.”
Trisha smiled again, this time revealing two missing front teeth.
His heart skipped a beat. A laugh bubbled to his chest. She was so damned cute.
“Teachers always like the kids who get good grades.”
Kate’s mom entered the room carrying a tray, surprising Max. He’d thought they were supposed to be alone…. Then he understood. Kate didn’t trust him enough to be alone with him.
Bev smiled brightly. Too brightly. “I have lemonade and cookies if anybody’s interested.”
Trish reached for a cookie even before Bev had the tray on the table.
Kate laughed. “Where are your manners? Your dad’s a guest in our house. We offer him a cookie first.”
Trisha reluctantly brought her hand back