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“She grew up in a home filled with bedtime stories, badly made pancakes on Sundays, and warm hugs that lasted a long time.”
He hugs Serene, and she giggles, then throws her arm over his chest.
“She learned to ask big questions. She wondered where she came from. And sometimes, she missed someone she didn’t remember.
“Her father never had all the answers. But he always listened. And he never stopped loving her, not for a second.”
He kisses her forehead. She turns to him. “I love you, too, Papa.”
“I know, Poppet.” His gaze meets mine over the book. There’s a sadness in them I haven’t seen before. The air between us heats. The moment stretches. Then he looks down at the book, and it’s lost. He continues reading.
“She carried two stories: The one that began with goodbye. And one that kept growing with love, every day. And wherever life leads her, some things will always be true: She is loved. She is real. She belongs.”
He closes the book and lowers it. Serene’s fast asleep with her head on his shoulder. He gently places her head on the pillow.
It feels like I’m intruding on a moment that's personal, something which should be shared only by father and daughter.
I back away, then head out of the room, down the stairs and into the kitchen, where I get myself a glass of water. Then, because I’m curious about his place—which is so different from the penthouse where I last visited him— I wander up the hallway. I peek into a room and, ooh, find it’s a library with bookshelves lining the walls. A fire is crackling in the hearth, and it feels so inviting. I walk in, and when I draw in a breath, I can smell the spicy and very male scent of his above that of the burning logs. The desk and chair in the corner facing the room has a computer screen, a keyboard, and enough paper to indicate he must use this as his home office. I can feel his presence here strongly.
A shiver grips me. My nipples turn into points of need. Damn. He’s not even here, but if I close my eyes, I can pretend I'm being embraced by him. I draw in another breath, allowing it to both arouse me and calm me, an oxymoron I’ve always associated with Tyler. Then, I head for the books on the shelves.
Dragging my finger down the spines, I take in the titles.Atomic Habitsby James Clear,Deep Workby Carl Newport,The Design of Everyday Thingsby Don Norman…Interesting. These are similar to the self-help books I gravitate toward.
Then I come acrossDude, You're Gonna Be a Dad!: How to Get (Both of You) Through the Next 9 Monthsby John Pfeiffer, andThe Single Dad's Survival Guide: How to Succeed as a One-Man Parenting Teamby Michael A. Klumpp.
I sense his presence and look up to find him walking into the study. “That was a beautiful story. It was about Serene, wasn’t it?”
“That’s her life storybook.” He crosses over to the wet bar. “Would you like white wine?”
I nod, grateful he didn’t take me for granted and pour it for me. For a macho alpha male, it’s incredible that he doesn’t order me around in real life. In bed though… That’s another matter. And he’s already shown me he’s dominant and a beast when it comes to assuaging my wants. My cheeks heat in recollection. I pull my thoughts back to the present
“Life storybook?”
"She had so many questions about her mother… I kept as close to the truth as I could, but put her life into a story form," he explains, turning to me with a snifter of whiskey in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. "Her therapist said it would be an empathetic way for her to understand her past and deal with the trauma of separation.”
“Wow, that’s a great way to introduce her to her past.”
He nods. “I thought so, too. This way, whenever she asks about her mother, I can pick up the book, and we read from it together. As she grows older, I can introduce more information to her in an age-appropriate manner. I hope it will help her get more familiar with her own history and eventually, help her in creating her own identity.”
He walks over to his desk, places my wine in front of one of the chairs, then heads over to sit in the armchair behind the desk. He looks right at home there. From frazzled Dad who loves his daughter, to smoldering business executive who wields his power like it’s an invisible whip so mere mortals bow down to him, to the demanding yet unselfish lover who made sure to pleasure every inch of my body while ignoring his own needs, Tyler Davenport is one fine man. It's going to be a challenge to keep my emotions in tow and focus on the job at hand.
I slip into the chair, take a sip of my wine, which is crisp and refreshing. “This is so good.” I take another sip.
“It’s the same one you had the day we met.”
“Oh?” I’m not sure what to make of that revelation. Does he mean he bought it because I had it that day? “You remember what I drank that day?”
“I remembereverythingabout that day.” His voice turns gritty. The air between us sizzles. It’s like he’s reliving exactly what happened that day and night. I sure haven’t forgotten it. But… The last thing I want to do is dwell on it. Not when he’s the one who asked me to leave.
“What about her mother?” I ask, not because I want to know. Okay, I do want to know, but I’m already jealous of whoever she is. Which is not good. I really need to get control of myself. Besides, the only reason I need to know about Serene’s mother is so that I’ll do a better job of being her nanny, right?
“I tracked her down. But before I could ask her about Serene, she left the country. Her tracks proved difficult to pick up, even for my investigators. Meanwhile, the DNA tests were conclusive. Serene is my daughter.”
27
Tyler
“So, you adopted her?”