Everything but the Baby (Harlequin Superromance) (13 page)

“But—” She tried to imagine staging a pretend flirtation with Mark. It would be dangerously easy. The only difficulty would be to keep it from turning into the real thing. “But didn't you just say we ought to smother these sparks we keep feeling? Won't this charade just make that more difficult?”

He shook his head. “I told you it won't happen again and it won't. Catching Lincoln is our mission. The other thing won't be a problem, I promise you.”

Not for him, perhaps. Apparently he had all the willpower he needed.

Did she?

Unfortunately, she had no idea. Her willpower had never been put to the test. But she had a feeling she was about to find out.

 

D
ANIEL AND HIS FATHER
hadn't been getting along very well since the trouble with Beth and the car. That was hard for Daniel, because they used to be pretty close. Roddy O'Hara was wild and funny and he'd always treated Daniel like a friend, teaching him how to sail and play tennis, how to ask a girl out and, of course, a thousand things about running a hotel.

It was funny. At first, Daniel had thought he'd die without Beth, but in the end it was his father he really missed.

For the past few months, he'd been trying hard to gain back his dad's trust. He worked like a slave, both at home and at The Mangrove, without complaining…at least not much. He got great grades and he never missed a curfew, even by one chime of the grandfather clock in the lobby. He'd quit cussing and leaving his clothes around and he even tried not to be rude to Fannie, no matter what a pain she was.

Overall, he'd been a friggin' saint. And that didn't come naturally to any O'Hara.

Still, it was worth it. He thought he might have made a little progress. Not a complete thaw, but maybe some melting around the edges. A joke here and there, sometimes a smile exchanged over the heads of the twins.

Which made it even harder to have to tell his dad this news today.

He found his father down at the boardwalk, fixing some rotten planks. Daniel glanced around cautiously. No one else was nearby, thank goodness.

Not close enough to hear them, anyhow. His grandfather was sleeping in the hammock on the north side of the hotel, but that was yards away.

At least Daniel assumed it was his grandfather. All he could see from here was the tip of Grampa's sneaker, with its trademark splash of salmon paint from when they redid the Hideaway's exterior. Grampa loved the hammock. It was the one spot on the grounds where no one could see him trying to take a little snooze.

Daniel knew he'd have to hurry, before Gram came down and tipped Grampa out onto the ground and ordered him to stop being such a slug and come wash the van.

Daniel started talking before his father even looked up and acknowledged him. His words came out like a nervous mumble.

“What?” His father looked up, his hammer pausing in the air. “You got
what?
”

“Fired, dad. I said I got fired.”

Roddy's face turned red, his eyebrows diving down to meet the bridge of his nose. “You'd better be joking, son, and I'll tell you right now it's not a damn bit funny.”

“I'm not joking. They fired me yesterday.”

“The devil they did!” Roddy tossed his hammer into the toolbox with enough force that one of the Phillips head screwdrivers bounced out and clattered over the boards. “What in the name of all God's widows and orphans did you do?”

Daniel considered lying. But his dad had about a hundred friends at The Mangrove. He'd find out the truth eventually and then he'd blast Daniel as a liar as well as a fool.

He cleared his throat. “They accused me of behaving inappropriately with a guest.”

“A—A—” It was as if Roddy didn't have enough breath to say anything. Daniel might as well have punched him in the stomach. In the hotel business, guests were sacred. This was the blackest sin you could commit. “A
guest?
”

Daniel wished his father didn't take such good care of everything at the Hideaway. If only the planks under his feet were rotten, maybe they'd just snap in two and let him slide right down into the water and drown.

“Yes, sir. A guest.”

Roddy squeezed his eyes shut hard, as if he would like to discover that he was dreaming the whole thing. But when he opened them, Daniel was still standing there.

“God's garters, son. Are you daft? You've grown up in a hotel. You know better than that.”

“Yes, sir.”

Thank God, his dad's face was gradually draining to a more natural color. Maybe he wouldn't have a stroke, after all, or staple gun Daniel to a pylon for the fish to eat.

“Fired. Over a guest.” He shook his head. “I'll tell you this, son. You really know how to shame your family. A
guest
.”

Oh, God, here came the guilt. Daniel squirmed. The staple gun might have been easier to bear.

Roddy sighed. “Can I assume, based on your history, that this guest was female?”

Daniel's guts felt a little watery. “Yes, sir.”

Reaching out a hand, Roddy balanced himself on the railing and stared down toward the water. He looked as if he were communing with the sea gods, asking for the patience to deal with his disappointing son.

“Dad,” Daniel said, trying to sound steady and mature, which wasn't easy, since to his horror he felt as if any minute he might start weeping like a girl. Like Fannie, for God's sake. And Fannie was eight.

“Dad, can I explain it to you? I know you don't believe in excuses, but I'd like to tell you what happened. I'd like to give you my side.”

His father nodded slowly. “All right. But don't waste my time with a load of baloney, Dan. And don't be wriggling around, trying to rub the blame off on somebody else. Tell your side like a man, and I'll listen.”

He sat down on the edge of the boardwalk, letting his legs dangle over the sand, then touched the space beside him. “Come on,” he said. “Get comfortable.”

Daniel accepted the invitation, which he knew was an act of peace. He wasn't to be forced to stand there, like a sinner called to the carpet. They could sit together, beside the water they both loved. Not quite equals, but close enough.

So he did and, staring out to the horizon, avoiding his dad's eyes, his side was easier to tell. He started at the very beginning, with Bart Thomas's snarky attitude about training Daniel in the pro shop and Janelle
coming in and putting Bart in his place. He told even the humiliating parts, like how he had to clean up the women's bathroom and how Janelle had found him in there.

He tried to be honest. He admitted that, after Beth dumped him, his ego had really needed a boost and this hot, rich, friendly woman had been just the ticket.

But then, he explained, it had turned into something bigger. He still had a crush on her—he was as pathetic as a panting hound dog whenever she came near him. But he'd started to care about her as a human being. It was weird, but he actually worried about her. He felt sorry for her.

She was clearly in love with this guy named Lincoln Gray. And just as clearly Lincoln Gray was
not
in love with Janelle. The night she called him out to the golf course, she'd been so sad her heart was breaking.

“What was I supposed to do? Refuse to talk to her, when she'd said how much she needed a friend? Just as we left, she kissed me, and apparently Bart saw it. I'll bet he couldn't wait to tattle. But it wasn't a come-on, Dad. She's not like that. It was just gratitude. Just thanking me for listening. And for caring.”

“Listening to what?”

“To how much Lincoln is hurting her. He's been taking money from her, Dad, and all the while he's been two-timing her. And guess who with?”

His father frowned, though he still stared at the green water. “Who?”

“Allison.
Our
Allison.”

Roddy finally glanced over at him. “No kidding.”

“It's true. I saw them at the dance the other night. All over each other. It's just so damn rotten. It's going to kill Janelle.”

“I doubt it.” His father laughed softly. “But why shouldn't Allison date whoever she wants? Janelle's not married to this Lincoln Gray, is she? Besides, do you even have any reason to believe that Allison knows about Janelle?”

Daniel saw the logic, but he felt mulish and didn't want to concede the point. “No, but Allison wouldn't care anyhow. She's just a flirt. I've seen that guy Matt, the guy who checked in when she did, hanging around her, too. Flannery says he goes into her room at night.”

The minute he said it, he knew he'd misstepped.

“And are you spying on our own guests now, Daniel?” His father's voice was cold. “Listening to gossip about people who have a right to their personal privacy and are paying good money for it?”

Daniel picked at his fingernails, tore off a sliver and tossed it into the water. “No. But she's not a guest, not really. She's family. And it was Fannie who spied, not me.”

His father didn't answer. In the silence, Daniel heard the echo of his own words and recognized how childish they were.

“I know, Dad,” he said finally. “I know I'm being a jerk. But if you could just see Janelle. She's the sweetest person you've ever met, and she's got this helpless quality. She's not one of them. She's not even rich, really. In fact, I'll bet that's why this all became such a stink.”

“What does that mean?”

“If it had been one of those rich bitches who had kissed me, no one would have said a damn thing. They can get away with anything. But let one of the little people step out of bounds and
wham
. You're nailed to the wall.”

His dad's scowl seemed permanently affixed. “And how, would you mind telling me, do you know how much money the woman has?”

Daniel shrugged. “People talk at The Mangrove, Dad. It's not like our hotel. The night girl at the registration desk found out first. Apparently, Janelle's credit card maxed out. They were shocked. She's been spending a lot of money, tipping great, so they all thought she was loaded. Apparently, she's just a librarian from Des Moines.”

His father grunted. “Lots of gossip floating around over there.”

Daniel nodded.

“And apparently you're gossiping right along with them.” Roddy held out a flat palm. “No, no argument. The listeners are just as much to blame. Without them, the tongue-waggers wouldn't have anyone to tell.”

Daniel gave up, his shoulders sagging. He was a screwup, start to finish. He wasn't as strong as his dad. He was weak. He couldn't help it—he liked to hear the crazy stories about the people who stayed at The Mangrove. And he liked being kissed by a smoking-hot woman on the golf course in the moonlight, whether it was out of gratitude or too many daiquiris or whatever.

They sat in silence a few minutes. Daniel wondered
when it would be possible to go back inside. Unless he was going to drown himself, he had chores to do. His mom wouldn't accept any excuses, not even the one about how his dad had been bawling him out down on the boardwalk.

“So,” his dad said finally, “I thought the first time might have been a fluke. But I guess it wasn't. You've got it. You've definitely got sucker syndrome.”

Daniel could imagine what that meant. He started to go all knee jerk and say that he did
not,
but he had a feeling the label probably fit. So he just waited.

“It's not your fault,” his father went on. “It's genetic. All O'Hara men have it. It just means you're missing the self-preservation gene. You can't resist a sob story, particularly one told by a pretty girl. They can make you do just about anything.” He glanced at Daniel and for the first time his eyes had a little of their usual sparkle. “You know. Like steal cars. Get fired.
Anything
.”

Daniel's insides steadied. There was no real disappointment in his father's voice. “Yeah. I know. But what do you mean all O'Hara men have it? Who? Not Grampa.”

“God's garters, your grampa's the worst ever.” Roddy shook his head. “If it weren't for your grandmother, we'd have gone bankrupt years ago. Your grampa would give the shirt off his back to any pretty maid with a tear in her eye. In fact, on at least one occasion he's done exactly that. Ask your grandmother sometime. If it's gossip you're looking for, kiddo, we've got plenty in our own closets.”

“Yeah? And what about you?”

His father laughed. “Oh, I've got it. Why do you think your grandfather and I chose to marry such tough women? Someone has to keep us from making fools of ourselves.”

Daniel didn't ask for details, though he was dying to know. He didn't want to go too far. Right now, he was just glad that they were able to talk like friends again.

“Sometimes it ends up pretty bad,” his dad said. “Worse than you ever dreamed it could. You know how Allison's father cut us out of her life? Well, that was me, buddy. That was me and the sucker syndrome.”

“How so?”

“I was worried about Eileen. Your aunt was such a firecracker, Danny, you would have loved her. She had spunk like no woman you've ever seen. But then she married Ripley Cabot. She loved him, I guess, but a colder fish I've never met. And within a month, he'd clamped down on her like prison bars.”

Daniel had heard some of this, but never just straight out, never so clear and honest. His father's voice sounded as angry and hurt as if all this had happened yesterday, instead of three decades ago. It made him shiver a little just to hear that sound.

“It broke your heart to see her like that, all pale and tamed, like a house cat. She watched what she said and what she ate and even how she moved. She was like a ghost of herself. I was scared to death. So I teased her, I played with her, I tried to make her be more like her old self. That's why I dared her to ride Nightmare. I just wanted her to wake up and take some risks.”