Storybook Dad (Harlequin American Romance) (4 page)

Yet now that he knew, so many things made sense. The angst
she’d exhibited over accepting his business card wasn’t denial over a loved
one’s condition. Her refusal to let him help her with the kayak wasn’t some
over-the-top display of feminism. And her insistence at racing Seth from the car
to the restaurant, even though Mark had pointed to their unexpected dunk in the
lake as a reason to take it slowly wasn’t about some bottomless well of
energy.

No, Emily Todd was angry, and she was determined to show anyone
within a stone’s throw that she had things under control.

He understood that stage. He’d been there once, too.

“Daddy?”

The sound of his son’s tiny voice from the backseat derailed
Mark’s thoughts and forced him to focus on the moment. “What is it, little
man?”

“Is Emily gonna die like Mommy did?”

The question was like a punch to his gut, grabbing hold of the
arm’s-length thoughts and bringing them much too close for comfort. Sneaking a
peek at his son’s worried face peering at him through the rearview mirror, Mark
did his best to change the subject.

“You know what? I think it’s time we dust off your bike and
start working on getting rid of those training wheels sometime soon. What do you
say?”

He released a sigh of relief when the little boy nodded and
turned his gaze toward the passing scenery, leaving Mark to his own thoughts
once again.

It was still so hard to believe. How could someone who looked
like Emily be sick?

The same way Sally was…

Just the thought of his late wife brought a lump to his throat.
Sally had been so healthy one minute and so sick the next, her all too quick
downward spiral made even quicker by the way he’d handled everything. Burying
his head in work might have made much of what was happening seem more distant,
but it had also robbed him of the little time they had left.

Instead, it was Seth who had been by her side day in and day
out, watching his mother slip away until she was gone for good. The memory made
Mark sick. What kind of father placed a burden like that on a little boy?

A coward, that’s who…

Somehow, some way, Mark was going to make things right. He had
to. He owed that much to the boy. And to Sally.

But try as he did to engage Seth in conversation for the
remainder of the ride home, the worry he’d seen in his son’s eyes in the
rearview mirror was still there when they returned home. It was there when
they’d shared a bowl of ice cream at the kitchen counter. And it was still there
when he kissed Seth’s forehead and tucked him under the sheets for the
night.

Mark had seen that worry in his son’s eyes for far too long.
He’d watched it eat away at the pure joy that had been Seth’s existence prior to
Sally’s cancer diagnosis. And he’d sat by, virtually paralyzed by his own fear,
while that worry had morphed into a steely determination to be what Mark himself
seemed incapable of being.

But no more.

Seth had suffered enough for one lifetime.

It didn’t matter how hot Emily Todd was. It didn’t matter that
her enthusiasm and boundless energy breathed life into Mark’s stagnant
world.

All that mattered was Seth.

All that mattered was keeping his son from ever reliving the
kind of grief that had consumed his young life to this point.

Pulling Seth’s bedroom door shut behind him, Mark wandered
across the hall and into his own room, where the picture of Sally with Seth on
his third birthday brought a familiar mist to his eyes.

With fingers that knew the way, he lifted the frame from his
nightstand and slowly traced the contours of his wife’s face. “His heart is safe
with me, Sally,” he whispered. “You have my word on that.”

Chapter Four

Emily pressed the intercom button on the side of her
phone, working to make her voice sound casual and upbeat. “Trish? Any sign of
Mr. Reynolds and his son yet?”

“Still nothing, boss.”

“Oh. Okay. Thanks.” She pulled her finger back, only to shove
it forward once again. “Um, Trish?”

“Yeah, boss.”

“My next class is at noon, right?” She glanced at the clock on
the wall and noted the rapidly approaching hour.

“Noon it is.”

Her shoulders sank along with the tone of her voice. “Okay.
Thanks.”

With her connection to her assistant broken, Emily pushed back
her chair and stood, the enthusiasm that had marked the start of her day giving
way to a serious case of unease.

Granted, she didn’t know Mark Reynolds all that well. How could
she when they’d met just a measly twenty-six hours earlier? But no matter how
hard she tried to pin his failure to show up for their first rock-climbing
adventure on something as trivial as forgetfulness, she couldn’t.

Especially when it had meant so much to his son.

“Seth,” she whispered. That was it. Something must have come up
with the little boy to cancel their outing and prevent Mark from calling to let
her know. It was the only explanation that made any sense.

Perhaps the child was in bed with the flu, or a tummy ache from
eating too much pizza the night before. Maybe he’d fallen on the way out to the
car that morning and broken his arm, or something crazy like that. Or maybe he’d
had a rough night without his mom, and Mark felt it was more important for the
little guy to get some rest.

Emily knew it was silly to be so worried about a child she’d
just met, but she couldn’t help herself. There was something special about Seth,
something innocent and pure that spoke to her heart as nothing else had in
years.

The fact that he’d been through so much in such a short period
of time only served to bolster her gut feeling that Mark wouldn’t deny Seth an
opportunity to make a new memory unless something fairly serious had
intervened.

Her worry at an all-time high, Emily sank back into her desk
chair and opened the top drawer. There, where she’d left it, was the card she
couldn’t get out of her hands fast enough the day before.

Mark Reynolds

Field Worker

Folks Helping Folks Foundation

555-555-5555

Inhaling deeply, she reached for the phone and punched in the
number, the final digit quickly followed by a ring that led straight to a
nondescript voice mail. When the recording completed its request for her name,
number and reason for calling, she obliged, her voice a poor disguise for the
worry she wasn’t terribly adept at hiding.

“Um…hi. Uh, it’s Emily. Emily Todd. From yesterday? At Bucket
List 101…and, um, the pizza place?” Realizing she sounded like an idiot, she got
to the point, the disappointment she felt over having to wait for a response
undeniable. “I got your number from your business card. Could you please give me
a call when you get this? Thanks.”

She reeled off her phone number, returned the handset to its
cradle and then dropped her head into her hands. She’d done everything she
could, short of driving back and forth across town trying to guess where Mark
and Seth Reynolds lived. All she could do now was wait.

And pray that the images continuing to loop through her
thoughts were the by-product of an overactive imagination rather than a spot-on
radar that made absolutely no sense where a virtual stranger and his son were
concerned.

* * *

M
ARK
CROUCHED
DOWN
beside Laurie’s desk and placed a gentle yet firm hand on his
son’s shoulder. “Now remember what I told you, little man. Miss Laurie has work
to do. So it’s super important that you sit in this nice seat right here and
keep yourself busy, okay?”

Seth nodded.

“And as for me? I’ll be in that conference room right there—”
he pointed toward the open door just beyond the secretary’s desk “—if you have
an emergency. But since I just took you to the bathroom, and I’ll only be in my
meeting for about a half hour, you should be good on that front, right?”

“I’ll be good,” Seth whispered. “I promise.”

Mark reached for the backpack he’d placed beside the chair and
unzipped the center compartment to reveal a plethora of activities designed to
make the wait as easy on his son—and Laurie—as possible. “I packed your favorite
picture books, along with a
Mr. Spaceman
coloring
book I managed to score while you were napping at Gam’s this afternoon.”

At Seth’s silence, he reached inside and extracted the new
book, flipping it open to reveal page after page of all things space related.
“Isn’t this the coolest coloring book ever?”

A search of his son’s face failed to net the enthusiasm Mark
was hoping to see. Disappointed, he tried a different tactic. “If you get
hungry, there’s an extra yummy cherry lollipop in the front pocket of your
backpack that’s got your name all over it. Sound good?”

Seth’s automatic nod stopped midway as his unusually dull eyes
locked on Mark’s. “Daddy? I really would’ve been a good listener for Emily.”

Mark raked a hand down his face before clasping his son’s
shoulder. “My decision against taking you rock climbing this morning wasn’t
about listening, little man. It was about keeping you
safe
.”

It was a decision he still felt was right even now, some seven
hours later. Any residual angst over the whole thing had more to do with his
failure to call and cancel their private lesson than anything else.

“Mark? They’re ready to start.”

He glanced over his shoulder at the woman in her sixties
situated behind the gray metal desk. “Thanks, Laurie.” Then, turning back to his
son, he offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Maybe we can get some ice
cream when this is over. How’s that sound?”

Seth shrugged. “We have to eat dinner first, Daddy.”

Mark didn’t know if he should laugh or cry at the solemn
response more befitting an adult than a four-and-a-half-year-old boy. It made
sense, considering everything Seth had been through the past year, but it made
Mark all the more protective of his son’s childhood.

“Maybe we can make an exception this one time.” He brushed a
kiss across Seth’s head and then stood, his trip to the conference room
requiring little more than a stride or two. When he reached the door, he took
one last peek at his son, who was still standing in the middle of the
foundation’s reception area.

“We’ll be fine,” Laurie assured him. “Now go. The sooner you
get in, the sooner you’ll be out.”

“Thanks, Laurie.”

“My pleasure.” She swiveled her chair to her computer screen,
only to turn back just before he disappeared completely. “Oh, and Mark? A call
from a potential client came in for you today. I gave the details to Stan.”

“I’ll make sure to ask him about it after the meeting.” He
stepped inside the room and took the empty chair indicated by Stan Wiley, board
president of the Folks Helping Folks Foundation. An all-around good guy, Stan
made volunteering with the organization a pleasant experience. Stan had gotten
involved with the foundation for reasons not dissimilar from Mark’s. Regret was
a powerful motivator.

“I certainly appreciate everyone coming in on such short notice
for a meeting that wasn’t on your agenda,” Stan began. “But as I told each of
you on the phone, it really couldn’t be avoided. Not if we want the foundation
to be the recipient of a quarter of a million dollars.”

A collective gasp rose up around the table.

Stan laughed. “See? I told you this was a meeting worth
having.”

“Wow. Seriously?”

“That’s incredible.”

Mark listened to the sentiments of his fellow volunteers,
nodding along with each before adding his own. “That sure is going to open up a
lot of possibilities for our clients.”

“That’s exactly right. And it’s why we needed to have this
brief meeting. Now that the offer is there, we have to put our heads together
and make sure we don’t let the money slip out of our grasp.” Stan plucked a pile
of manila folders from the table in front of him and sent half down each side of
the conference table. “That quarter of a million dollars will be the
foundation’s, provided we meet one very specific and necessary condition
stipulated by Jake Longfeld.”

Taking the top folder, Mark passed the remaining pile to his
left. “Longfeld? As in Longfeld Motors?”

“One and the same,” Stan confirmed. “He’s been watching the
work we’ve been doing the past few years, and felt it was time to throw one of
his always-generous donations in our direction. And we’re grateful, of course.
But there is this condition we need to find a way to meet.”

“Condition?” a woman on the other side of the table
repeated.

“That’s right.” Stan waved his hand. “As you probably know,
Jake Longfeld walks with a cane. The reason dates back to an injury he sustained
in the armed services some thirty years ago. He’s gotten through life just fine
in spite of his challenges, but he’s wise enough to know that’s not the case for
everyone with a physical disability, particularly when that disability comes as
a result of the kinds of diseases our foundation deals with on a regular
basis.

“Which leads me to why we’re all here. If you’ll open your
folders, you’ll find a copy of the letter Mr. Longfeld wrote to our foundation,
detailing his wishes for his very generous donation. About halfway down the
page, you’ll see that he wants this money to help two groups near and dear to
his heart—those with disabilities, and small business owners.”

Mark skimmed the letter from top to bottom, nodding as he did.
“So the entire donation doesn’t have to go to a small business owner with a
disabling disease, just a portion?”

“Exactly,” Stan said. “We satisfy that stipulation and we’ll be
able to help a lot of people.”

“Do we have any clients that fit that bill?” a field worker
asked.

The president’s gaze settled on Mark. “Perhaps.” Leaning
forward, he flipped through his folder until he came to a pink slip of paper,
which he handed to Mark. “A call came in to the foundation for you today, Mark.
From a woman named Emily Todd. Ms. Todd owns a small business on the outskirts
of Winoka called Bucket List 101. I’m taking it she has physical limitations, if
she reached out to us here?”

An image of the petite, pixieish blonde flashed in front of his
eyes—the curve of her hips, the sinewy tease of her legs, the tantalizing rise
of her breasts, the unforgettable twinkle of her large doelike eyes, the
heartfelt smiles she solicited from Seth....

“Mark?”

The sound of his name snapped him back to the present—that and
the fact that all eyes in the room were suddenly trained on him. “Uh…”

“Does this woman have physical limitations?” Stan pressed.

He forced himself to address the question, to abandon the image
that had him loosening his collar and wishing for a cool glass of water. “At the
moment, none that I can see. But with the nature of her disease, that will
change.”

“Then perhaps we’ve just met our stipulation.”

Stan’s words took root. “Wait. Wait. Em—I mean, Miss Todd—isn’t
a client of ours yet. She, um, well, let’s just say she’s still in quite a bit
of denial about her situation.”

“Then I’m counting on you to help her through that stage and
onto our client roll.” Stan closed his folder and rose to his feet, a triumphant
smile making its way across his well-tanned face. “You do that and we can start
divvying up the rest of the donation in a way that will enable us to do the most
good.”

“But I can’t force her to seek help,” Mark protested.

“She called us, didn’t she?” Stan quipped, before adjourning
the meeting until the following week. “That fact suggests that our Miss Todd is
starting to move toward acceptance at a faster rate than you may have
realized.”

* * *

H
E
LEANED
HIS
HEAD
against the back of the couch and released a
long sigh, his dilemma over what to do as worrisome as ever. Sure, there was a
part of him that wanted nothing more than an excuse to drive out to Bucket List
101 again and see Emily. There was something about her spark, her spirit, that
made him feel more alive than he had in months. But he couldn’t ignore the other
part, either—the part that wanted to protect his son’s heart by keeping her at
arm’s length.

“Don’t get close, don’t get hurt,” he mumbled under his
breath.

It was a good motto. One that would keep him from ever seeing
the kind of heart-wrenching ache he’d been unable to erase from Seth’s eyes
during Sally’s illness.

His mind made up, Mark reached for his cell phone and the
foundation’s volunteer list. Bob McKeon was aces. Clients seemed to really love
his gentle, straightforward approach. And with any luck, Emily would feel the
same way.

Emily.

Once again, the woman who’d captivated his son over a sand
castle and a pepperoni pizza flashed before his eyes, causing him to pause, his
finger on the keypad of his phone.

Emily was struggling on the first rung of a ladder he knew all
too well. He’d seen it in her face when he talked to her about the foundation.
He’d heard it in her voice when she’d brushed off his concern about the pain in
her leg. And he’d sensed it in the unwavering determination that made her refuse
help for even the simplest of things.

She needed a hand.

The kind of hand Seth had given Sally when Mark had been stuck
on the same rung as Emily, ignoring reality because he’d thought it would be
easier somehow.

But it wasn’t.

In fact, in many ways, lingering on that rung had made
everything more painful in the end.