A Christmas Miracle for Daisy (Taming of the Sheenans Book 5) (4 page)

He clinked glasses with her and smiled into her eyes. “As you should.” And then his smile gradually faded. “But in all seriousness, I’ve made it a point to keep the personal out of the office, and vice versa. Business and pleasure don’t mix. Inevitably something, somewhere goes wrong, and you’re truly talented and I respect what you’ve accomplished—”

“You must be known for hideous breakups.”

His features tightened and his lips pressed grimly. “I’m a Sheenan. We’re not the settle down type.”

“There’s more of you?”

“Four more brothers.”

“All single?”

“Yep.”

“Where are you in the lineup?”

“Second to youngest.” He ticked the names off his fingers. “Brock, Troy and Trey, me, then Dillon.”

“And none of you have ever married?”

“My oldest brother, Brock, did, but he was widowed early on, when the twins were just six months old. And he’s never remarried.”

She shook her head, the only child in her family, unable to imagine a family with five boys. “Do they all look like you?”

“No. I’m the only towhead.” He lifted his beer, took another sip, even as his gaze locked with hers.

The heat in his eyes sent a delicious shiver racing down her spine. She inhaled sharply, telling herself to be careful. He was too attractive. She didn’t want to be stupid and risk her job. “I love where I work,” she said softly. “I love what I do.”

“You’re good at what you do.”

“I would never make the mistake of confusing the professional relationship with the personal. They are, and must be, two separate things. Always.”

“Yes.” He touched her glass to hers. “Always.” He drank. “You’re right. This is good beer.”

“They make a very good lager here, too.”

His eyes gleamed at her. “You know the difference between ale and lager?”

“I do. It’s the type of yeast. Ales are a top-fermenting yeast with mid-range temperatures. Lagers are a bottom-fermenting yeast that requires cooler temperatures.”

“Impressive.”

“I know. I’m pretty good.”

He leaned over then and kissed her.

The kiss was hot, sweet, soul-searing. It made her ache and she kissed him back, wanting more, wanting him.

When the kiss finally ended, Cormac lifted his head and looked into her eyes. “You’re not pretty good. You’re very, very good.”

She’d blushed and laughed and fell for him, and for the next year she was his and only his. They spent all their free time together and just when she thought he might propose, he instead abruptly ended it.

It broke her heart.

But they’d agreed in the beginning to keep work and personal separate so she continued at Sheenan Media even after their relationship ended.

She’d shown up for board meetings with her head high, never letting him, or anyone else know, how much he’d hurt her, because that wasn’t her style. She was tough. Strong. And a seasoned professional.

Let her personal life interfere with her professional?

Never.

At least, she’d never let a man like Cormac Sheenan derail her career.

*

Cormac had watched
Whitney race out of her office, jamming her arms into her coat sleeves, trying to hide the sheen of tears in her eyes.

But he’d seen the tears, and it made his gut tighten. Whitney was not given to tears and emotion. At least, not around him.

But admittedly, the meeting with her had not gone well. In fact, he couldn’t have imagined it going any worse.

He paced her office, restless, and frustrated. He’d tried to be cordial. Positive. Supportive. He’d tried to let her know how valuable she was to him, and the team, but she’d been icy cold, her jaw set, her expression flinty.

It’d been this way ever since she took him to court to attempt to force him to share custody of Daisy. Now there was just this endless animosity, and he didn’t know how to deal with her. Maybe he shouldn’t deal with her anymore. Maybe he should just let her go.

But she was smart, and talented, and honest, and a big part of Sheenan Media’s success. He knew it. She knew it. But that didn’t make their relationship any easier, not after they’d been through so much.

Incredible to think that today was the first time he and Whitney had been in the same room, alone, since December 22
^nd
, the day the judge decided in Cormac’s favor.

There was no question that Whitney would have been a good mother, but the judge had to go on facts, not feelings, and Daryl and April had clearly expressed in their will that they wanted Cormac to become Daisy’s legal guardian, should anything happen to them, and God help them all, something did happen to them.

Cormac stood at the window with the view of downtown and the majestic Rockies in the background.

The bold, dramatic peaks reminded him of his childhood home in Paradise Valley. Returning to Montana would be a good thing. He’d feel better once Daisy was there. He’d breathe easier once his family was close by. He needed to know that there were others who loved her, and people who would be able to take care of her should an emergency come up. Yes, he had nannies in San Clemente, and they were excellent caregivers, but he wanted more for Daisy than professional babysitters.

He was definitely conflicted about marriage—his parents had not been happy together—but family was still important, and he was realizing that Daisy needed family. She needed cousins to play with, and Sunday dinners, and holiday traditions she could count on.

She wouldn’t get that living in California, and he could see now that raising Daisy in Southern California had been a mistake.

But then, he hadn’t planned on being a single parent. What did he know about being a parent? He’d never even dated women with children. So he’d made mistakes but he was trying to be a better dad, and he was more determined now than ever to do the right thing for her.

He also found himself wishing Whitney hadn’t pushed so hard for custody. It would have been better if they could have worked something out, outside of court, but she wanted formal recognition, she wanted to have legal rights, and that’s where everything went upside down. He tried to warn her that taking him to court would just backfire, but she hadn’t listened, certain he was her adversary.

Turning from the window, he exited Whitney’s office, and headed to Jeff’s office where they talked for an hour, discussing the best way to transition everyone from Denver to Marietta.

The new office building in downtown Marietta was actually an old brick building on Main Street. Three stories tall and an entire block long, the Crookshank Building had been built in 1899, Marietta’s original Mercantile and then a car dealership in the twenties before the Great Depression. It had been countless things since…a women’s department store, the Crawford County Department of Education, and more.

It had been vacant for the past two years, except when used seasonally for a Halloween superstore.

He’d bought it for cash, and the previous owners had agreed to let him start remodeling while the title and deeds were being transferred. He expected to have the building in his name by the end of the week and then the real construction could begin, with the goal that the top floor be ready for Sheenan Media personnel by December one, with the rest of his company employees moving in the first week of January.

Meeting over, Cormac headed for the elevators. It was a quick ride down, the doors opening to reveal the tower’s gleaming marble and glass lobby flooded with Denver’s startling bright light.

As he exited the elevators, he spotted Whitney stepping into the lobby through the tall lobby glass doors. She had to pass him to reach the elevators and so he waited, watching her walk towards him. If he were a kinder man he’d let her escape without having to face him. Apparently he wasn’t kind at all, because he waited for her instead, wanting to speak to her one more time before he left.

Despite her earlier distress, she was calm now, and she walked towards him, chin high, expression fearless.

If it weren’t for the two spots of color burning high in her cheekbones, making her warm brown eyes unnaturally bright, he could almost believe she didn’t know he was there. But the pink blush was a giveaway.

She touched the elevator up button and stared at the bronze doors, shoulders straight, back stiff. He could see her face in the reflection and her expression was just as stern, lips firm, jaw set.

It was obvious she was upset. He could feel her tension, and indecision. There were things she wanted to say to him, words she fought to hold back.

He should just let her go. There was no need to speak to each other, and yet the air felt charged, vibrating with unspoken things that needed to be said. And not just by her, but by him, too.

He’d wronged her all those years ago. The abrupt breakup. His silence and distance after the accident in Las Vegas. And then the abysmal mess he’d made of the custody arrangements for Daisy.

He could have handled that so much better.

He should have.

And maybe he would have if he hadn’t been so stunned by Daryl’s and April’s death. Or maybe he wouldn’t have handled it better because he wasn’t one to show emotion, or be sensitive in the face of adversity.

So say something
, he told himself now, say something that would help her. Say something that would allow her to move forward with less anger and pain.

But before he could speak, she glanced back at him, her troubled gaze meeting his and holding.

Her hand went out to keep the open elevator doors from closing.

“What is it?” he demanded roughly. “Just say what it is you want to say.”

Her gaze met his then swung away. “How is Daisy? Is she okay?”

Cormac heard the yearning in her voice and his chest tightened. “She’s good,” he said huskily. “She turned four in September.”

“Yes, I know. I sent her a gift. Maybe it never arrived. It was a fairy costume. Periwinkle—”

“Daisy loved it.” Had he not sent any kind of thank you or acknowledgment to Whitney for the gift? He felt like a cad. “It was her Halloween costume this year,” he added, without mentioning that the costume had been damaged in the craziness of the lockdown at school.

Whitney’s fingers tightened on the doors and yet her expression softened. “Really?”

He nodded.

She smiled, and it was a real smile, unlike the frozen smiles of earlier. “I’m glad,” she said softly, before stepping into the elevator and letting the doors close behind her.

‡

“D
addy.” A small
hand reached up to pat Cormac’s chin. “
Dad
.”

He looked up from the open spreadsheet and turned his jaw into Daisy’s warm soft palm. “Yes, baby girl?” he answered, still distracted by the numbers he’d been studying.

“
Dad
,” she repeated firmly, forcing him to pay attention.

He looked down into her wide blue eyes. She’d been curled up on his lap watching TV while he read through a report, but she was determined to have his full attention now. “Yes, Daisy?”

“Where’s Momma?” Her dark brows pulled into a flat line, and her eyes, fringed by the longest, thickest lashes, narrowed in concentration. She’d been precocious at two, and was absolutely fierce at four.

He also adored her beyond words and couldn’t help the ache he felt every time she asked about her parents.

“Your mom’s in heaven,” he said. “She’s an angel now, watching over you. And your dad’s there, too. But they love you, and they will always love you—”

“No,” she interrupted impatiently. “The other one. My god-momma. The one who sent me the Periwinkle costume for my birthday.”

Oh.

Whitney.

He felt a different pang now. One tinged with guilt.

“Daisy’s god-momma,” she emphasized.

He smiled crookedly, pushing back a lock of silky dark brown hair from her face. It was strange how this little person could make him feel so much. He’d been accused of being cold and detached by his girlfriends at various points in the relationship.
You’re selfish, Cormac. You’re the Ice Man, cold and heartless.
But Daisy brought out the protector in him. Daisy made him care.