The Single Dad's Patchwork Family

‘And I have a daughter who’s nearly four.’ His face softened. ‘Phoebe.’

She guessed he hadn’t forgotten to phone home.

He got to his feet. ‘I’d better reserve a table for us in the restaurant before they fill up.’

She opened her mouth to object, but the words wouldn’t come out. Because at that moment she couldn’t think of a good reason not to have dinner with him.

She nodded and watched him walk across the bar. For once she’d let someone else take the decision out of her hands, allowed someone else to take control. It felt weird, but she was a little tired of being the one who everybody came to for the answer.

Between her employees, her children and her extended family…sometimes…it was all too much.

A touch on her shoulder made her jerk, her eyes wide.

‘Regan?’ Chase crouched beside the chair. ‘Sorry to make you jump. I couldn’t get your attention. Are you sure you’re feeling okay now?’

‘Yes. I was just…thinking.’

He smiled and her stomach went into freefall. Oh, boy, she must be much hungrier than she’d thought.

‘It’s a bad habit. I’m always being told I do too much of it.’ He nodded towards the restaurant. ‘They have a table ready for us now.’

He rose to his feet and held out a hand. She looked at it. If she took it, would he think she was interested in him in a romantic way? Because she wasn’t.

He dropped his hand and stood back, giving her space. Part of her was glad. But, as she bent to retrieve her handbag from the floor, another part wished she’d just taken his hand. Now he’d think she was an uptight, unfriendly woman who didn’t know how to act around a man.

It wasn’t true but, after the experience she’d had with her ex-husband, the last thing she needed was to feel attracted to this man. Or any man.

At their table, Regan accepted a menu from the waiter with a smile. She selected the King George Whiting, a local speciality popular with tourists and for good reason. Chase ordered the same, then took the menu from her and handed it to the waiter, pushing the basket of bread rolls across the table at the same time.

‘Here, have some bread while we’re waiting for the fish. You need to get something inside you before you keel over again.’

She groaned and took a bread roll. ‘I often miss lunch but I’ve never felt dizzy before. I don’t think that’s the reason.’

‘Can you think of another one?’

She shook her head.

‘Maybe you should get checked over? Go to the doctor?’

‘No.’ She flapped a hand. ‘Total overreaction. It’ll probably never happen again.’ As if she’d waste her precious time in a doctor’s surgery when there was nothing at all wrong with her.

She brightened. ‘I know what it was…I had a glass of champagne on an empty stomach and I don’t often drink.’

‘That would do it.’ He nodded and took a bread roll himself. ‘How long have you been in tuna farming?’

‘My family has been in the industry for a while. My father started the business when the quotas were cut in the late eighties. His father was a tuna boat owner and Dad inherited the boat when he died but he saw that the future of the industry was in farming, not fishing.’

‘A man of vision.’

She chewed a mouthful of bread slowly and swallowed it before going on. She was proud of her dad; he’d played an integral part in establishing a whole new mentality for Port Lincoln. The major industry of the town had been in trouble when it had been completely turned around by the techniques of sea culture. Her dad and people like him had been responsible for the new industry’s survival and resurgence after a couple of disasters.

Their family business was nowhere near the biggest or most lucrative, but their name was well-respected and, having reverted to her maiden name since her divorce, she intended to keep it that way.

‘Never having a son of his own, Dad hoped to pass the business on to his grandsons, but he died just after my second son was born.’

‘Unexpectedly?’

‘Very much so.’ She resisted the memories that came rushing at her. ‘Heart attack,’ she said in a flat voice.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘It was a shock at the time, but I’m over it now, of course.’ She cleared her throat, which was tightening despite her statement.

‘And then you took over the business?’

‘No. Not right away. My husband took over.’ She let her gaze slide away and over the other tables without seeing the people seated at them. ‘I had a baby and a toddler so I didn’t take an interest in the business. I left it to him to manage.’ She snorted. ‘Big mistake.’

She took a deep steadying breath. Giacomo—or, as he’d preferred her to call him, Jack—with his classical good looks and charming ways had let her down all round. It had been a tough time, and she could hardly believe she was telling this stranger about him.

Was it because she’d never see him again? Was it like talking to a fellow passenger on a plane—that sense of being able to say anything because their paths would never cross again?

Or was it because, for some strange reason, she felt a connection to him? As if he was someone she could trust. As if he was a friend.

Either way, she’d probably said enough.

‘What happened?’

She turned back and met his gentle, encouraging gaze. Her resistance crumbled and the words flowed out before she could stop them.

‘He had no idea what he was doing. Oh, he talked as if he knew all about the industry but, when it came down to it, he had no business sense whatsoever. We nearly lost everything.’

‘But you found out in time to save it?’

She winced. ‘I found out when he left me. Left me, his children, the business.’ She spread her hands, palms up. ‘The whole lot.’

She saw a flash of anger in his eyes but it was followed by concern and he waited silently for her to go on, resting his elbows on the table and his chin on his linked hands.

‘That was when I took over. I didn’t have a choice. Everyone depended on me. The employees. My family. I had to support my children. And I didn’t know much about the business except what I’d learned from listening to Dad.’ She made a frustrated gesture.

‘Rather from overhearing him talk about it. He’d never tried to teach me anything because he didn’t think there was any need to.’ And he probably wouldn’t have thought of her as a successor. Growing up, he hadn’t thought about her much at all to be honest, too consumed in making the business a success. The knowledge was like a lead weight in her stomach.

She’d told Chase she hadn’t a choice, but in truth she had. No one had forced her to take over the business. She could have let it go and found herself a job. Strictly nine-to-five.

But could she have coped with the shame of allowing the family business to be destroyed? With seeing the employees—all those people—out of a job because of her husband’s bad business mistakes?

Not a chance.

She’d felt a compulsion to clear up the mess that Jack had made. She couldn’t possibly let all her father’s work be wasted. But that wasn’t all—she’d suddenly had an irrational need to show her father she could do it. He might have been dead but Regan had still been looking for his elusive approval.