Daddy's Little Memento

“Have you thought about my proposal?”

She’d like to tell him no, to pretend her every thought hadn’t revolved around him for the last twenty-four hours. Unfortunately, she’d never been that good an actress. “I’m still thinking.”

A sensual smile tilted up one corner of his mouth. “Perhaps you need more persuading.” His husky tone suggested what form his influence would take.

The heat spiraling through her body tempted her to vacillate just so she could feel his mouth against her for real. Last night’s dream had left her unfulfilled. Given half a chance, Alex would take care of that problem.

At a price.

She understood the unspoken terms. Marriage or nothing.

Dear Reader,

April showers are bringing flowers—and a soul-stirring bouquet of dream-come-true stories from Silhouette Romance!

Red Rose needs men! And it’s up to Ellie Donahue to put the town-ladies’ plans into action—even if it means enticing her secret love to return to his former home. Inspired by classic legends, Myrna Mackenzie’s new miniseries, THE BRIDES OF RED ROSE, begins with Ellie’s tale, in The Pied Piper’s Bride (SR #1714).

Bestselling author Judy Christenberry brings you another Wild West story in her FROM THE CIRCLE K miniseries. In The Last Crawford Bachelor (SR #1715), lawyer Michael Crawford—the family’s last single son—meets his match…and is then forced to live with her on the Circle K!

And this lively bunch of spring stories wouldn’t be complete without Teresa Carpenter’s Daddy’s Little Memento (SR #1716). School nurse Samantha Dell reunites her infant nephew with his handsome father, only to learn that if she wants to retain custody then she’s got to say, “I do”! And then there’s Colleen Faulkner’s Barefoot and Pregnant? (SR #1717), in which career-woman Elise Montgomery has everything a girl could want—except the man of her dreams. Will she find a husband where she least expects him?

All the best,

Mavis C. Allen

Associate Senior Editor

Daddy’s Little Memento

Teresa Carpenter

www.millsandboon.co.uk

In loving memory of Charles Joseph Carpenter.

Daddy, you’ll always be my hero.

TERESA CARPENTER

is a fifth-generation Californian who currently lives amid the chaos of her family in San Diego. She loves living there because she can travel for thirty minutes and be either in the mountains or at the beach. She began her love affair with romances in the seventh grade when she talked her mother into buying her a category romance; she and romance have been together ever since.

Teresa has worked in the banking and mortgage industry for fifteen years. When not working or writing, she likes to spend time with her nieces and nephew, go to the movies and read. A member of RWA/San Diego, she has participated on the chapter board in numerous positions, including president, VP Programs, newsletter editor and conference coordinator. She is especially proud of having received the chapter’s prestigious Barbara Faith Award.

Dear Samantha,

If you’re reading this letter, it means I’m gone and it’s only you and Gabe now. I hope you’ll find comfort in each other, as you both gave me comfort when I needed it most.

How I’ve envied you your strength and sense of purpose. I was weak, always so weak. And yes, I made mistakes.

You were right. I should have told Gabe’s father about him. But he couldn’t miss someone he never knew, and I needed Gabe so much. He’s the only thing I ever did right in my life. He’s my heart and my soul. I couldn’t give him up.

But no more stalling, Gabe’s father is Alexander Sullivan of Paradise Pines, California. I have no proof to offer you beyond a mother’s knowledge. He made a point of being careful; we both did. But Gabe was meant to be. I’ll always be grateful for the time I had with my son.

I rest easy knowing you’ll always be there for Gabe.

Love,

Sarah

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter One

Alex Sullivan was a man who didn’t appreciate surprises.

He believed in rules. Being the oldest of six boys, he’d learned early in life that rules created control from chaos. Being the principal of Paradise Pines High School, he knew control meant the difference between order and anarchy.

So when he opened his door on Sunday morning to find Samantha Dell, the new school nurse, standing on the front deck of his mountain home with a baby in her arms he saw trouble in tight jeans.

“Good morning, Alex.” She graced him with an overbright smile.

“Hello, Samantha,” he greeted the leggy blonde, fighting to control the quick surge of wanting that hit every time he looked into her lively green eyes.

He had a strict personal policy against dating colleagues, a policy she challenged twice a week. Technically, she didn’t work for him, but as the district nurse, she spent two days a week at his high school, which in his mind put her off-limits.

And if that wasn’t enough to put a damper on his desire, the chubby-cheeked kid she held would be.

With some regret he pulled his customary defenses in place and lifted his glance from the sweet curve of her hips up over a pale pink sweater cropped at the waist to her anxious jade-green gaze. Then, almost objectively, he studied the dark-haired, blue-eyed baby in her arms, wondering what brought the pair to his home on a cold January morning.

“Alex, I need to talk to you.” Nerves wore at the edges of Samantha’s smile. She cleared her throat. “May I come in?”

“Sure.”

He glanced down at his T-shirt and shorts still damp from his morning run. Hardly ideal for entertaining. Sundays were his day of excess. He slept an extra hour, ran an extra mile and drank an extra cup of coffee or two while reading the paper. Sunday nights meant dinner at Gram’s. Between the paper and dinner he occupied himself with everything and nothing, whatever struck his fancy.

If he was occasionally lonely, most of the time he appreciated the peace and quiet of his life.

Samantha’s expression warned him his peace was about to be destroyed.

“Come on in.” He stepped aside. He’d seen her with the boy, who couldn’t be more than a year old, around town, but Alex always managed to keep his distance. “Is this your son?”

In the entry she turned to face him, her arms tightening around the little boy until he wiggled in her grasp.

“No. He’s yours,” she said in a rush.

Disbelief rooted him in place. She couldn’t mean that the way it sounded. At a loss, he looked from her to the baby then back at her. “Mine, how?”

She blinked as if surprised by his question, but she quickly recovered. “Yours, as in you fathered him.”

“That’s not possible.” Denial came first, sharp and sure. He always, always protected himself. “I only met you four months ago.”

“I’m not his mother, but you are his father.” Her voice was quietly earnest, compassion lit her direct gaze. “I know this must come as a surprise.”

“Try shock.”

She was serious. This wasn’t some kind of joke. Sudden panic sent adrenaline coursing through his blood. His head went up, his shoulders went back and he stood braced to fight. He felt as if his whole life was being threatened.

Samantha reacted to his aggressive stance by taking a large step back and eyeing him with caution.

Seeing he’d frightened her, he fought for control. Determined to rule his emotions, he wiped the frown from his face and waved her into the living room.

After a brief hesitation, she led the way into the next room then perched on the edge of his black-leather couch and settled the baby on her lap. She swept an affectionate hand over downy-soft brown hair. The baby turned to grin at her then stuffed two fingers in his mouth.

Alex chose the matching chair several feet away. In the four months he’d known her, he’d found her to be intelligent, dedicated and friendly with most people, if a little distant with him. He figured her reserve came from the same belief he held that you shouldn’t mix business with pleasure.

Eyeing the little guy in the red T-shirt, miniature overalls and baby Reeboks, he didn’t know what to think.

All he saw when he looked into those baby-blue eyes was years of responsibility. As the oldest, Alex had done his baby duty and helped with his five younger brothers when he’d still been a child himself. He’d been fourteen when his parents died in an earthquake in South America, making him the man of the family. They were supposed to have been on a buying trip for the family jewelry store but they’d been on an archeological excavation instead. They’d paid the price for playing when they should have been working. But Alex and his brothers were the ones who suffered.

To this day sorrow at their loss mixed with feelings of resentment.

Thank God for Gram, she took them in, provided a home and worked overtime to hold the business together. Alex did his best to hold the family together.

Make no mistake, he loved his brothers. He also loved kids, as principal of the high school he had to, but the thought of going home to one after spending eight hours with four-hundred teenagers blew his mind.

Not that he believed for a millisecond the boy was his.

“Who’s the kid, Samantha?” he demanded. Again. Hoping for a different explanation, one that made sense.

“Gabe is eleven months old.” She licked her bottom lip, the gesture revealing an underlying uncertainty. One she tried to hide by lifting her chin and meeting his gaze straight on. “He’s my nephew.” She tensed as if bracing herself. “And he is your son.”

He pushed to his feet. He wished she’d stop saying that.

“I don’t have any children. By choice.” And by God’s will.

With a pang, he pushed the thought away.

He saw he’d startled her, but she quickly recovered. “You may not have meant to, but you did. According to my sister’s letter, you met at a Caribbean resort the summer before last.”

She named the resort on St. Thomas where he’d vacationed nearly two years ago. A quiver of dread ran down his spine. So she had the time and place right, but that didn’t mean the boy was his.

“What’s your sister’s name? Why didn’t she tell me herself?”

“Her name was Sarah Travis. We were half sisters. She died in an automobile accident six months ago.”

Sarah. He had the impression of flashing green eyes, short sassy curls and a wanton wildness in bed. She’d been just what he needed to take his mind off one of the darkest moments in his life.

“I remember your sister. I’m sorry to hear of her death. But you’re mistaken about Gabe. He’s not my son.”

“Duck.” Gabe pointed a chubby finger toward a marble statue of birds in flight. “Duck. Duck.”

“Pretty birdies.” Samantha pulled the baby’s hand to her mouth and pretended to bite his finger, then kissed the mock injury. Gabe laughed and stuck his finger in her mouth. She repeated the game then turned her attention back to Alex. Her love for the little boy showed in her tender handling of him even as she pursued the serious conversation.

“My sister was a bit of a free spirit, but she didn’t lie. In fact, she refused to reveal who you were while she was alive. It wasn’t until after she passed away that I found a letter in her safe-deposit box naming you as Gabe’s father.”

“No disrespect to the dead, but your sister was wrong.” He paced, his agitation requiring a release. “We only spent two nights together, and I used protection. I always use protection.”

Samantha lifted a darkened brow. “You’re the principal of a high school, you know as well as I do the only one-hundred-percent effective birth control is abstinence. Condoms can break or fail.” The spark in her green eyes warned Alex she wouldn’t listen to any criticism of her sister. She cleared her throat then continued. “You are Gabe’s father.”

Alex rubbed at the ache building in his left temple. He wasn’t convinced, but she obviously believed what she told him. Which brought him to his next burning question.

“You’ve been in Paradise Pines for four months. Why are you just telling me now? Come to that, why didn’t your sister tell me when she found out she was pregnant?”

Pink bloomed in her cheeks, and she busied herself with Gabe’s clothes, straightening the overall straps over the red shirt and refolding the cuffs of his socks. Gabe put up with the fussing for about twenty seconds before bucking his small body, demanding to be put down. In his struggle, his hand caught in the neck of her sweater dragging it down.

Alex’s breath hitched at the sight of cream lace cupping creamier flesh. Samantha quickly righted the garment, flashing him a self-conscious look. No need. He’d already noticed her trim little figure, and she had nothing to be embarrassed about.

She tried to calm Gabe, but he bucked harder and squealed, fighting her efforts.

For a moment, Alex’s gaze connected with the child’s blue eyes. Sullivan blue? His will and determination certainly matched that of any Sullivan.

“Let him down,” Alex urged.

Samantha sent a doubtful look around the room at the glass-and-chrome tables, a high-tech entertainment center and the book-lined floor-to-ceiling shelves. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Can he walk?”

“Not yet, but he’s getting braver every day.”

“Let him down. I’m sure we can catch him before he does damage to himself or anything in the room.” He resumed his seat, leaving the space open for the kid.

Setting Gabe on his butt in the middle of the floor, she pulled a whiffle ball from her purse for him to play with. She gathered the scattered magazines and videos on the coffee table into a stack in the middle then resumed her seat on the edge of the couch. After a moment, she slid Alex a sidelong look before finally answering his question.

“You have to understand ours isn’t the most impressive family tree,” she said with a total lack of emotion that spoke volumes. “My father died when I was four, my mother when I was nineteen. Sarah’s father left. Seven months before she was born. My mother wasn’t a woman who found it easy to be alone. Men came into our lives, but they didn’t stay.

“Sarah was twelve years old when mom died, leaving her in my care. I did the best I could, but between college and work I couldn’t give Sarah all the attention she needed. By the time she met you, Sarah desperately needed to be needed. And she’d decided a baby would fulfill that need.”

Alex didn’t know how to respond to her revealing confession, because regardless of the sad circumstances of her life—Sarah’s life—he hadn’t heard an acceptable reason for not telling him he’d fathered a child.

Her expression apologetic, Samantha explained. “I’m sorry, but Sarah never intended to tell you. She went to the island with the intention of getting pregnant.” She stopped, cleared her throat. Then she set her chin as if coming to a decision. “In the letter she left she said you told her you didn’t want children, so she felt no need to tell you.”

Shock froze Alex in place. Fury pumped blood through his veins so fast rational thought became impossible. Not again. Damn it, no, not again.

He felt as if an essential part of him had been ripped out, stolen, used.

When he didn’t speak, Samantha answered the second part of his question. “Perhaps I should have told you sooner. But it took a while to get settled and for Gabe and me to develop a routine. And I needed to get to know you.”

Already angry, he resented the implied insult. He narrowed his eyes and pinned her with a cold glare. “Are you saying I had to pass some kind of test?”

She shrugged but made no apology. “From the moment I found out she was pregnant I urged Sarah to notify the baby’s father. She resisted until the end. When Gabe suddenly came into my care and the decision became mine, I felt I had to honor my first instinct to contact you.”

“But?”

“But,” her tone became defensive, “now he’s my responsibility and his welfare is my first concern.”

“Meaning?” Alex consciously relaxed his clenched jaw. How crazy was it to be angry that she hadn’t told him sooner about the child he denied was his?

“Meaning, I believe no father is better than an abusive father.”

He leaned forward in his chair. “It happens I agree with you. What bothers me is it took you four months to decide I don’t hurt little kids.”

“Of course it didn’t take four months—Gabe, no.” The baby had crawled to the coffee table, hoisted himself up and was happily slapping the glass. “He’s getting antsy. I’d better go.”

Alex watched in disbelief as she rose, picked up Gabe and headed for the door.

“Wait.” He followed hot on her heels. “Why did you come here today? What do you want?”

She stopped in the open door, her expression no longer anxious but relieved. “I came to tell you about your son. I hope you’ll want to be part of his life. What happens next is up to you.” When he had no answer to that, she turned away. “Goodbye.”

He continued to watch her walk away, stunned into speechlessness.

The boy had the last word. He looked at Alex over his aunt’s shoulder with solemn blue eyes much like Alex’s own and said, “Bye-bye.”

“Well that didn’t go as badly as I’d feared.” Samantha snuggled Gabe against her chest and kissed his dark curls as she descended the deck steps. “Disbelief and shock were expected. But he didn’t deny knowing your mom and he didn’t throw us out. That’s good.”

“Mama.” Gabe grinned and patted her cheek.

Mama. Her heart twisted every time he used the word. She felt like a fake, as if she were stealing her sister’s place in the world. Every day she did her best to keep Sarah alive for Gabe. But because it was easiest for him, Samantha answered to mama.

“I probably should have told him about you sooner, but we needed the time together, didn’t we, sweetheart.” Digging into her purse, she pulled out her keys and hit the unlock button on her alarm pad.

“In you go.” She opened the back door of her Taurus and fit Gabe into his car seat. After snapping him in and handing him his toy giraffe, she crouched in the open door.

“We’ll give your father some time and see what happens. He’s a decent guy. I know he cares about his family and his students, so how can he resist you?” Gabe giggled when she bussed his nose. “We did what we came to do. The rest is up to him. Raising your mother alone was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. And I’m not too proud to say I need help.”

“Man?” Gabe yawned.

“Right.” She smiled and chucked him under the chin. “Your dad’s the man all right. I hope he comes through because, from what I remember, having a daddy was one of the best things in the world.”

Samantha’s biggest regret was not remembering her father better. Mustache kisses, unconditional love and being safe, that’s what she remembered. No wonder her mom had missed him so much.

“Samantha.”

Startled she stood and spun to find Alex standing on the deck above her. He appeared larger than life with his broad shoulders silhouetted against the gray morning sky. His features were shadowed, hiding his expression, but his dark hair showed signs of his frustration, actually standing on end.

She felt herself pale as she worried, had he heard her talking to Gabe?

Thrusting his hands in his pockets, Alex said, “I want a DNA test. I’ll pick you and Gabe up tomorrow at four.”

She disliked his autocratic tone, but she didn’t protest. His asking for the test showed his willingness to believe. Okay, it could also be considered an opportunity to disprove her claim, but she preferred to be positive.

Truthfully, it was more than she’d hoped for so soon. So let him be demanding. Gabe and she had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

“We’ll be ready.”

Samantha eyed Alex who brooded in the corner of the exam room. He stood, arms crossed, shoulder propped against the wall, trying to appear relaxed and failing. His pale complexion and tapping foot betrayed his unease.

Like father, like son. Gabe’s inability to sit still in her lap showed his tension as they all waited for the doctor.

“Are you okay?” she asked Alex, knowing many people had an aversion to visiting the doctor.

He arched an eyebrow with forced nonchalance. “I’m fine.”

“We don’t have to do this you know. You could take my word Gabe is your son.”

He actually hesitated before shaking his head. “I think it’s best we know for certain.”

“Mama.” Gabe fussed. He twisted in her arms turning to face her, but when she gathered him close, he pushed against her in a bid to get down.

“No, Gabe, you have to stay with me. It shouldn’t be long before the doctor is here.” The apprehension in the room getting to her, she glanced at Alex standing in his corner. “Will it?”

“He’ll be here soon.”

So he’d said twenty minutes ago. If Alex had allowed the nurse to gather the DNA sample, they’d have been done and gone by now. Heck, she could have done the job herself with him as a witness. But no, he had to have his doctor friend do the deed. He didn’t trust anyone else.

Fine. With Gabe’s future at stake she accepted the need for precautions and exactness.

Still, Samantha gritted her teeth, seeking patience. Even understanding the need to know, it was hard to stay calm when Gabe’s wiggling and whining made every minute seem like ten.

“Look at the boat, Gabe.” Hoping to distract the baby, she pointed to the large framed photograph of a sailboat on the wall. “See the boat.”

Gabe stilled. He looked from her face to the picture. “Bo.”

“Yes. Boat.” Thrilled at his new word, she kissed him. “Good boy. Soon we’ll go to the beach like I promised, and I’ll show you the real boats on the water.”

“I have a boat.” The low words came from Alex’s corner.

Samantha sent him a surprised look. Was he just making conversation to distract himself, or was he issuing an invitation?

Seeing the blank look he aimed at the test kit, she had her answer. Neither she nor Gabe would be zipping across the waves anytime soon. Which in no way detracted from Gabe’s triumph.

“Boat is a new word for him,” she boasted.

“Bo? That was boat?”

She grinned. “Sometimes you have to use a little imagination.”

“Ah.”

The door opened and the doctor walked in. Tall, with white-blond hair cut short and wide shoulders, he reminded Samantha of Mr. Clean in a lab coat. Alex introduced his friend as Dr. Douglas Wilcox. The doctor apologized for keeping them waiting, and Alex thanked him for helping them out on such short notice.

Pleasantries aside, Dr. Wilcox went right to work. Samantha held Gabe, who cried and refused to open his mouth for the swab. Luckily the doctor knew his business and was quick. He praised Gabe and covered a freckle on his arm with a Superman Band-Aid.

While the baby inspected his badge of courage Dr. Wilcox labeled the samples. Then he gestured for Alex to take a seat.

“I guess I don’t have to ask if you’re nervous. My cadaver has more color than you.”

“Ha ha. I thought this was done with a blood test.” Alex sent his friend a killer look. Doug knew how he hated visits to the doctor. Alex figured the hang-up came from having to drag his brothers to their appointments when he didn’t like going any better than they did. The possible outcome of the test results didn’t help settle his nerves, either.