Daddy Daycare

“Your sister begged me to make sure Libby stays with us.”

“Us?” Travis gave Kit a cautious half smile that reminded her so much of when they’d been kids. Back when it had taken her a minute to breathe after he’d shyly confessed his attraction for her.

“Well…” She licked her lips. “She said us, you and me together, but I’m sure she meant me in the short-term, then you for the long-term.”

“Sure.”

“Because otherwise, she would’ve meant us as a couple, only Marlene was never really the matchmaking type. Besides, she knew I’m happy with Levi.”

“Right. And that I’m not the relationship type.”

“Of course.” Travis had stopped at an intersection, and though the cars whizzed along the paved highway they faced, flooding the truck’s cab with a much-needed breeze, for Kit, the temperature under Travis’s hooded gaze blazed as hot as ever.

“So what do you want, Travis?”

Dear Reader,

What’s more fun than a summer fling? Late-night walks, holding hands to the accompaniment of moonlight and crickets—or mosquitoes if you’re in my neck of the woods! Luckily for Kit and Travis, they live in a fictional Arkansas town, where there are no whiny bugs—just romance.

Back before I became old and married, summer romances were always my favorite. I was a “Bandie,” meaning every summer I packed up my clarinet and headed off to the University of Arkansas, Fayetteville campus for band camp. Sure, we were supposed to be practicing our instruments, but what we mostly got practice on was scoping new guys!

The best part of camp was always the dance held at week’s end. Sure, it was sad, knowing you’d soon say goodbye to all your new friends, but the poignancy of the moment seemed to add urgency, accelerating relationships that ordinarily might take all year. After a few sweet kisses, it was over, save for letter writing that eventually faded along with summer’s heat.

Travis and Kit first met the summer he was seventeen and she was sixteen. Now they’re all grown-up and it’s summer again. Will things work out any better for them this time? Hmm…Beats me. You’ll have to read the book to find out!

Happy reading,

Laura Marie ;-)

Daddy Daycare

Laura Marie Altom

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

After college (Go Hogs!), bestselling, award-winning author Laura Marie Altom did a brief stint as an interior designer before becoming a stay-at-home mom to boy/girl twins. Always an avid romance reader, she knew it was time to try her hand at writing when she found herself replotting the afternoon soaps.

When not immersed in her next story, Laura enjoys an almost glamorous lifestyle of zipping around in a convertible while trying to keep her dog from leaping out, and constantly striving to reach the bottom of the laundry basket—a feat she may never accomplish! For real fun, Laura is content to read, do needlepoint and cuddle with her kids and handsome hubby.

Laura loves hearing from readers at either P.O. Box 2074, Tulsa, OK 74101, or e-mail: [e-mail]. Or check out lauramariealtom.com.

Books by Laura Marie Altom

HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

1028—BABIES AND BADGES

1043—SANTA BABY

1074—TEMPORARY DAD

1086—SAVING JOE *

1099—MARRYING THE MARSHAL *

1110—HIS BABY BONUS *

1123—TO CATCH A HUSBAND *

For Betty Anne Miller and Dixie Miller—There aren’t enough words to describe how thankful I am to you two for being such great temp moms to my Hannah! (Not to mention such super friends to me!) We wouldn’t have made it through middle school without you!

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter One

“Ouch,” Kit Wells said with a whimper, rubbing the back of her throbbing head. Never had she known such pain.

Well…at least physical pain. The emotional pain of losing her best friend in a freak car accident—that was still as crushing as it had been yesterday when Marlene died in her arms.

Focusing on the task at hand, which was fishing one of her best gold earrings out from under CEO Travis Callahan’s desk, she snatched the errant piece of jewelry, then backed up, only to slam the top of her head when she rose too early.

She was still on the floor when the office’s door creaked open. Between the stars flashing before her eyes and the ball-and-claw feet of navy leather wing chairs she spied a pair of obviously expensive black, highly polished wingtip shoes. Wearing those were long, long legs encased in creased black dress pants. As her gaze traveled up, she saw a matching black jacket, starched white shirt and red-striped power tie. After a quick gulp, Kit summoned the courage to finish her visual sweep. Precision-cut short dark hair, chiseled features and eyes the shade of fresh-ground coffee made it official—the man was gorgeous. Even better than thirteen years earlier, when he’d last visited her hometown of IdaBelle Falls.

“Um, hi,” she said with a faint smile. “Remember me? I’m Kit. The girl you, um…well, you know, under your grandmother’s backyard mulberry tree.” Though she felt like conking herself on her already swimming head for blurting that bit of inane history—despite that to date, his kisses, among other things, were still some of her best in memory—Kit yanked down the hem of her brown prairie-style skirt, then tried scrambling to her feet. In fact, Travis’s kisses had been so dreamy, his technique had even topped that of Brad Foley, the B-movie actor who’d finished the job of demolishing what had been left of Kit’s heart after Travis left town. But that was a long story best forgotten.

As of late, she’d settled into a nice, safe engagement with local hardware store owner Levi Petty. What Levi lacked in animal magnetism and flash, he more than made up for in good old-fashioned family values and stability.

“Need help?” She looked up to see Travis’s proffered hand, which she took, only to regret it. No way were her sparks for him as intense as when she’d been a gangly teen and he’d been equally handsome. Both of which were entirely inappropriate observations considering the task she’d flown all the way from IdaBelle Falls to downtown Chicago to do.

“Um, please,” she said, releasing him the instant she was back on her sturdy sandals. Never had she wished she was more the polished sophisticate like all the other women she’d seen in the building, but since she was only going to be here long enough to tell Travis her news, then be out on an afternoon flight, it really hadn’t made sense to blow much-needed cash on some swanky outfit she’d wear only once. She really shouldn’t have spent the money to come here. But when her friend Alex, who was on the IdaBelle Falls police force, said they’d intended to tell Travis the news over the phone, out of love for his sister Kit had begged Mitch to let her break the news herself.

“Thanks,” she said, brushing at her behind, then adjusting her fitted brown-and-gold shirt before moving up to secure her disastrous head full of curly dark hair, which had sprung free of its clip.

“You’re welcome. And yes, I remember you and the mulberry tree. My sister speaks of you often—at least when she’s not barraging me with amazing baby feats performed by my adorable niece.” The smile he flashed would’ve been perfect, only it didn’t quite reach his eyes. And as far as Kit knew, through Marlene, Travis hadn’t cracked a genuine smile since he’d taken this CEO gig.

At the mention of Travis’s sister—Kit’s longtime best friend—bone-deep sorrow reclaimed her. Yes, telling Travis in person about Marlene’s death was the right thing to do but also agonizingly hard.

“Not to be rude,” he asked, “but would you mind letting me in on the gag my sister no doubt put you up to that’s led to you being camped out in my office?”

Tears stung her eyes, but Kit stoically blinked them away. Now was not the time for more of her own mourning. She had to be strong. Travis would need her, as would his adorable baby niece, Libby.

“Simple,” Kit said, forcing a deep breath. “We need to talk. And…” She fumbled her hands at her waist. “Well, it’s one of those conversations best held in person.”

“Sure,” he said, scratching his head. “Makes perfect sense.” Glancing around as if he expected someone else to pop out at any moment yelling Surprise! he asked, “So? Where is she?”

“Marlene?” Kit’s heart raced and her mouth went dry. She couldn’t tell him his sister was dead like this. Not while standing around his office, shooting the breeze. Forcing a half smile, she replied, “She’s not here. How about we sit, then I’ll tell you all about her.”

“Sure,” he said, eyeing her as if she were a three-headed alien fresh off the ship from Mars. “But first I need to take care of business.” He gestured toward a private bath she hadn’t before noticed.

“Sure.” Reddening from the coral-painted tips of her toes to the top of her head, Kit stumbled into the nearest chair. “I’ll, uh, wait.”

“Thanks. That’d be great.”

WITH THE RESTROOM DOOR closed, for the first time since grasping Kit’s hand, Travis Callahan breathed.

On the outside he might seem as if he had life by the balls—at least he hoped that was how he came across—but on the inside it was a whole different beast. Not that he wasn’t one hundred percent at the top of his game, but the international electronics world kept changing. Growing evermore high-staked. Though he happened to be damned good at what he did—supervising the design and manufacture of an array of electronics ranging from flat-panel TVs to personal MP3 players—that didn’t mean Travis liked his job.

What he did, in the simplest of terms, was done out of respect for the paternal grandparents who’d raised him. The company had been his grandfather’s baby since a time when phonographs had been all the rage. So when, on his deathbed, Mitchell Callahan handed the reins to Travis days before his twenty-second birthday, what else could he have done but graciously accept, then carry on the family tradition? Up until five minutes ago he’d been mindlessly numb doing just that. Which was why being faced with this fresh-faced, pretty blast from his past had caught him off guard. Reminded him of secret hopes and dreams best forgotten.

After taking care of business, then washing and drying his hands, he stood at the counter for ten long seconds, staring at himself in the mirror. Maybe, with any luck, when he stepped outside that door, his security team would’ve gotten their heads out of their behinds enough to realize the woman who looked better dressed for a relaxed day at the county fair didn’t belong at Rose Industries.

Forcing a deep breath, he squared his shoulders, knowing most folks found his six-three height intimidating. Why, he didn’t pretend to know, but that’s how he wanted Kit to feel—intimidated. Because, dammit, that’s what she’d done to him. He’d once felt comfortable around not only her but other women, like Natalie—the college coed he’d fully planned to marry after getting out of Notre Dame. But then he’d caught her in bed graduation night with his supposed best friend and frat brother. Ever since, he’d sworn off women in favor of business. Oh, sure, he enjoyed long-legged companionship as much as the next guy—assuming she left his Lakeshore Drive penthouse long before sunrise—but for the most part he preferred avoiding the fairer sex altogether.

“Better?” she asked when he emerged from the bathroom.

He cast her a half grin before landing behind his antique mahogany desk. Oddly enough, that one small step went a long way toward regaining the control that’d only briefly been lost in his head. Suddenly Travis did feel better. In control.

He cleared his throat. “It’s been great catching up, but as you can see—” he gestured to the foot-high stack of paperwork threatening to topple “—I’ve got a full plate. So, what’s the problem? My sister need more shopping cash or lost her ATM card? Where is she, by the way?”

Even though it’d been over a decade since Travis had last seen Kit, her grass-green eyes were still piercing, her smile still pretty—at least until it faded like the sun blanketed by clouds. She then began fidgeting, rummaging through a purse that looked more like a small picnic basket until she found a tissue. Next came a slight hiccup before a full-force gale leading to a teary monsoon.

“Hey, whoa…” he said, walking out from behind his desk to slip his arm around her—in a strictly brotherly way. Nothing remotely like the way he used to hold her all those years ago. Not sure what else to do, he gave her a few awkward pats. “I’m, uh, sure everything’s going to be okay.”

“No,” she said, “not ever. Oh, Travis. Marlene, she’s—”

Travis’s intercom buzzed. “Mr. Callahan, Steve Ford from Kline and Foster is holding on line three. He says it’s urgent.”

Crap. Torn between the sobbing beauty in front of him and the make-or-break deal awaiting him on the phone, Travis weighed his options. Door number one: do the decent thing and help his sister’s gal pal through whatever crisis had her down. No doubt boyfriend or money trouble. Temporarily frustrating but ultimately fixable. Door number two: get the kinks worked out of a merger he’d been setting up for close to a year that would net Rose Industries a cool fifty million.

“Sorry…” he said to the woman who might as well have been from another lifetime. One in which he hadn’t been the jaded, world-weary soul he was today. “I’ve got to take this call.”

She nodded and sniffled.

He gave her back another pat.

Five minutes later, back behind his desk, he hung up the phone. “You any better?”

“No,” she said, even though she’d nodded.

“Well, if it’s love that’s got you down, no doubt Marlene and her big mouth have let you in on the fact that I don’t get it—the whole institution—so I won’t be of much help to you there. However, if you’ve got creditors on your back, I’d be happy to see what I can do.”

“Th-thank you,” she said, “but neither of those scenarios apply. I wish they did, but—”

“Mr. Callahan, Helena Liatos with Vamvakidis Shipping is on line two. She says it’s urgent.”

“Go ahead,” his sister’s friend said. “The news I have will wait. Your sister’s already dead.”

He’d been on the line a good two minutes when he said to the woman Kit presumed was Helena, “I’m going to transfer you to my money man for your answer.” Ten seconds later, his intense dark gaze focused on her, he asked, “What did you say?”

“I’m sorry, Travis. I’d planned to break it to you gently, but—”

“Look…” He shook his head. “I know I haven’t visited Marlie like I should. And as for you, well, what we shared was amazing. But I really don’t see how that gives the two of you the right to barge in here, mucking up my day with sick practical jokes when—”

“Trust me,” she said, swallowing hard. “This is no joke. I’m sorry, Travis. So very sorry. But your sister’s dead.”

“What?” Travis lurched forward in his chair. Surely he hadn’t heard Kit right? But the grim set of her once-smiling mouth had him thinking otherwise. She dug in her picnic basket of a purse again and pulled out a press clipping, which she handed to him. Under a heading that read “Fiery Crash Destroys Young Family” were two photos. One of a mangled car, the other the most recent photo Marlene had had taken of Libby when a traveling photographer had been at the Hartsville Wal-Mart four weeks ago. Travis knew when it’d been taken because Marlie had sent him a copy. Logically, he thought, if she was still around to send pictures, making him feel guilty about already having missed so much of Libby’s small life, then this visit from Kit was no doubt another ploy to get him to—

“It was sudden,” Kit said. “I was babysitting and she and Gary were driving home from Joe’s Tavern—you know, that old two-step place out on Highway 14? Marlene loves—loved—to dance. Anyway, Gary hadn’t had a drop to drink all night, but you know how foggy it gets on Bald Mountain. A truck driver cut that sharp curve by the abandoned gas station. G-Gary—he died instantly. But Marlene hung on long enough to—”

“No,” Travis said with a firm shake of his head. Pushing his chair back, he stood. Paced before the stunning floor-to-ceiling view of glistening Lake Michigan. It was a breezy day and the shoreline was alive with sailboats. Travis had always wanted to learn to sail—not that he didn’t already know the basics from back when he’d taken lessons as a kid, but he now wanted to know the exhilarating sport inside and out. Just hadn’t yet had the time. Maybe when Marlene finally moved back home to Chicago they could pick a boat together. Something with a safe spot for Libby and landlubber Gary, who was a great guy.

G-Gary—he died instantly. But Marlene hung on long enough to—

Travis pressed the heels of his hands to stinging eyes.

The intercom buzzed. “Mr. Callahan, Helena Liatos is back on line two. She says it’s crucial that you—”

“Hold all my calls,” Travis barked into the system’s microphone.

Lips pressed tight, he shook his head. “I just talked to Marlie—what?—last week? So this can’t be right,” he said in reference to the press clip’s date. He tapped it. “I remember because she’d been yapping at me about coming down to Arkansas for the Fourth of July, but with this merger and everything I—”

“At the time of her death, police were going to call you, but I thought it’d be better—kinder-—to tell you like this. Face-to-face. She loved you very much.”

“Our grandparents always wanted her to come back. Her place was here.”

“She always said she had no head for business. You have to know she loved Gary—and her life in IdaBelle Falls—very much. She was happy. Working alongside you at Rose Industries wasn’t for her.”

“Nice she had a choice,” he thundered, turning to slam his fist on the desk. Out of a sense of duty he’d taken over the business, while, after inheriting their maternal grandmother’s place two years after graduating from Michigan State, Marlie had run off to Arkansas to play on the farm. He’d told her he didn’t mind, but deep inside he’d wanted her here. He’d missed indulging her rebellious streak since her every whim had shown him glimpses of what a less-structured life might be like. Her free spirit had filled him with just enough crazy urges to run off to Tahiti to make him see how asinine such a step would be. “Where does she think the money comes from to fund her laid-back country lifestyle?”

“I know you’re upset,” Kit said, “but that doesn’t give you the right to put her down. And, for the record, she never spent a dime of the money you sent her—well, not after we had the initial investment we needed to get the daycares rolling.”

“She’s not dead.”

She rose, tried awkwardly to slip her arms around him, but Travis shrugged her away before resuming his pace across the large room.

“This isn’t happening,” he said.

“I know. I mean, I know how you must feel. I was pretty out of it myself for a while. But there was Libby to consider, and—”

“Where is she? How is she?” he asked, staring out the windows. “My niece.”

“She’s fine. With Gary’s parents, but—”

Turning, Travis strode across the office to throw open the door. To his secretary he said, “Mrs. Holmes, please see if the corporate jet is available.”

Chapter Two

Oppressive July heat shimmered off a runway barely long enough to accommodate the plane. The terminal consisted of what was essentially a fancy shed boasting a sign that read IdaBelle Falls, USA. Rolling green hills lined with forest flattened into valleys of prime grazing pastures. Travis had been to IdaBelle Falls once since his sister up and moved to their maternal grandmother’s home. While her inheriting it hadn’t been a surprise, her leaving Chicago to live there had.

Though the gentleman that’d been drummed into Travis since he’d been a small boy offered his hand to help Kit down the plane’s short, steep flight of stairs, his mind was on matters other than how small and fragile her fingers felt in his. As Marlie’s best friend, Kit must be hurting. But part of his problem was how could he be of comfort to her when a large part of him still didn’t believe it was true—that his sister was really gone?

Marlene always had been trying to get him to come for a visit. So he could see how her “kinder, gentler way of life” was presumably so much better than his. She’d wanted him to be “real.” One thing he’d never gotten her to understand was his all-too real sense of duty to keep the family business in the family. More times than he could count, she’d urged him to cash out and spend the rest of his life having fun. Pursuing his own dreams—whatever they may be—not his grandfather’s. Sounded good in theory, but responsibility was so deeply ingrained in Travis, how was he supposed to turn beach bum now? Or, for that matter, take up a slower paced life here in the town Marlene had so loved?

Just thinking her name sent a pang ripping through him.

She can’t be gone, he thought, using every shred of willpower to keep his composure.

He’d watched out for her since they’d been kids. Their chronically battling folks had died young. Their adventure-seeking dad broke his neck while hang gliding off Baja. Travis had been thirteen. Marlie ten. Their mom died three years later from a drug overdose backstage at some Goth concert she’d been attending with her latest boyfriend, who had been twenty years her junior. Yes, their parents’ deaths had been rough. But as cold as it might seem, since he and Marlie essentially had been raised by their paternal grandparents and an endless succession of servants, they hadn’t missed their parents all that much.

They’d had each other. Yeah, a lot of times Marlene had been a pain in Travis’s ass, but most times she’d been a cute mascot he and his friends had enjoyed having around.

“There’s Levi,” Kit said, quickening her pace to the tall, lean man standing, arms crossed, beside a mud-splattered red pickup.

Travis inwardly groaned. Levi was Kit’s fiancé. During the hour-long flight, Travis had learned the apparently perfect man owned the town’s only hardware/lumber store and had helped renovate the big red barn Marlie and Kit purchased to house the latest of their six daycares, which were in neighboring small towns. Kit traveled to each center, acting in a managerial position and occasionally filling in as needed while Marlene had done the books.

Travis couldn’t fathom why, but it irked him seeing Levi hold Kit proprietarily close, planting a brief kiss on her lips before settling in for a long hug.

Kit had tried giving Travis a hug back in his office, but he’d sidestepped the affection. Now, alone on a hot runway that reeked of jet fuel, Travis could’ve very much used a hug. So far from his desk, he didn’t feel like a powerful CEO but like the kid who’d arrived at this same airport well over a decade earlier, about to meet his maternal grandmother for only the second time.