Daddy Daycare

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One

“Ouch,” Kit Wells said with a whimper, rubbing the back of her throbbing head. Never had she known such pain.

Well…at least physical pain. The emotional pain of losing her best friend in a freak car accident—that was still as crushing as it had been yesterday when Marlene died in her arms.

Focusing on the task at hand, which was fishing one of her best gold earrings out from under CEO Travis Callahan’s desk, she snatched the errant piece of jewelry, then backed up, only to slam the top of her head when she rose too early.

She was still on the floor when the office’s door creaked open. Between the stars flashing before her eyes and the ball-and-claw feet of navy leather wing chairs she spied a pair of obviously expensive black, highly polished wingtip shoes. Wearing those were long, long legs encased in creased black dress pants. As her gaze traveled up, she saw a matching black jacket, starched white shirt and red-striped power tie. After a quick gulp, Kit summoned the courage to finish her visual sweep. Precision-cut short dark hair, chiseled features and eyes the shade of fresh-ground coffee made it official—the man was gorgeous. Even better than thirteen years earlier, when he’d last visited her hometown of IdaBelle Falls.

“Um, hi,” she said with a faint smile. “Remember me? I’m Kit. The girl you, um…well, you know, under your grandmother’s backyard mulberry tree.” Though she felt like conking herself on her already swimming head for blurting that bit of inane history—despite that to date, his kisses, among other things, were still some of her best in memory—Kit yanked down the hem of her brown prairie-style skirt, then tried scrambling to her feet. In fact, Travis’s kisses had been so dreamy, his technique had even topped that of Brad Foley, the B-movie actor who’d finished the job of demolishing what had been left of Kit’s heart after Travis left town. But that was a long story best forgotten.

As of late, she’d settled into a nice, safe engagement with local hardware store owner Levi Petty. What Levi lacked in animal magnetism and flash, he more than made up for in good old-fashioned family values and stability.

“Need help?” She looked up to see Travis’s proffered hand, which she took, only to regret it. No way were her sparks for him as intense as when she’d been a gangly teen and he’d been equally handsome. Both of which were entirely inappropriate observations considering the task she’d flown all the way from IdaBelle Falls to downtown Chicago to do.

“Um, please,” she said, releasing him the instant she was back on her sturdy sandals. Never had she wished she was more the polished sophisticate like all the other women she’d seen in the building, but since she was only going to be here long enough to tell Travis her news, then be out on an afternoon flight, it really hadn’t made sense to blow much-needed cash on some swanky outfit she’d wear only once. She really shouldn’t have spent the money to come here. But when her friend Alex, who was on the IdaBelle Falls police force, said they’d intended to tell Travis the news over the phone, out of love for his sister Kit had begged Mitch to let her break the news herself.

“Thanks,” she said, brushing at her behind, then adjusting her fitted brown-and-gold shirt before moving up to secure her disastrous head full of curly dark hair, which had sprung free of its clip.

“You’re welcome. And yes, I remember you and the mulberry tree. My sister speaks of you often—at least when she’s not barraging me with amazing baby feats performed by my adorable niece.” The smile he flashed would’ve been perfect, only it didn’t quite reach his eyes. And as far as Kit knew, through Marlene, Travis hadn’t cracked a genuine smile since he’d taken this CEO gig.

At the mention of Travis’s sister—Kit’s longtime best friend—bone-deep sorrow reclaimed her. Yes, telling Travis in person about Marlene’s death was the right thing to do but also agonizingly hard.

“Not to be rude,” he asked, “but would you mind letting me in on the gag my sister no doubt put you up to that’s led to you being camped out in my office?”

Tears stung her eyes, but Kit stoically blinked them away. Now was not the time for more of her own mourning. She had to be strong. Travis would need her, as would his adorable baby niece, Libby.

“Simple,” Kit said, forcing a deep breath. “We need to talk. And…” She fumbled her hands at her waist. “Well, it’s one of those conversations best held in person.”

“Sure,” he said, scratching his head. “Makes perfect sense.” Glancing around as if he expected someone else to pop out at any moment yelling Surprise! he asked, “So? Where is she?”

“Marlene?” Kit’s heart raced and her mouth went dry. She couldn’t tell him his sister was dead like this. Not while standing around his office, shooting the breeze. Forcing a half smile, she replied, “She’s not here. How about we sit, then I’ll tell you all about her.”

“Sure,” he said, eyeing her as if she were a three-headed alien fresh off the ship from Mars. “But first I need to take care of business.” He gestured toward a private bath she hadn’t before noticed.

“Sure.” Reddening from the coral-painted tips of her toes to the top of her head, Kit stumbled into the nearest chair. “I’ll, uh, wait.”

“Thanks. That’d be great.”

WITH THE RESTROOM DOOR closed, for the first time since grasping Kit’s hand, Travis Callahan breathed.

On the outside he might seem as if he had life by the balls—at least he hoped that was how he came across—but on the inside it was a whole different beast. Not that he wasn’t one hundred percent at the top of his game, but the international electronics world kept changing. Growing evermore high-staked. Though he happened to be damned good at what he did—supervising the design and manufacture of an array of electronics ranging from flat-panel TVs to personal MP3 players—that didn’t mean Travis liked his job.

What he did, in the simplest of terms, was done out of respect for the paternal grandparents who’d raised him. The company had been his grandfather’s baby since a time when phonographs had been all the rage. So when, on his deathbed, Mitchell Callahan handed the reins to Travis days before his twenty-second birthday, what else could he have done but graciously accept, then carry on the family tradition? Up until five minutes ago he’d been mindlessly numb doing just that. Which was why being faced with this fresh-faced, pretty blast from his past had caught him off guard. Reminded him of secret hopes and dreams best forgotten.

After taking care of business, then washing and drying his hands, he stood at the counter for ten long seconds, staring at himself in the mirror. Maybe, with any luck, when he stepped outside that door, his security team would’ve gotten their heads out of their behinds enough to realize the woman who looked better dressed for a relaxed day at the county fair didn’t belong at Rose Industries.

Forcing a deep breath, he squared his shoulders, knowing most folks found his six-three height intimidating. Why, he didn’t pretend to know, but that’s how he wanted Kit to feel—intimidated. Because, dammit, that’s what she’d done to him. He’d once felt comfortable around not only her but other women, like Natalie—the college coed he’d fully planned to marry after getting out of Notre Dame. But then he’d caught her in bed graduation night with his supposed best friend and frat brother. Ever since, he’d sworn off women in favor of business. Oh, sure, he enjoyed long-legged companionship as much as the next guy—assuming she left his Lakeshore Drive penthouse long before sunrise—but for the most part he preferred avoiding the fairer sex altogether.

“Better?” she asked when he emerged from the bathroom.

He cast her a half grin before landing behind his antique mahogany desk. Oddly enough, that one small step went a long way toward regaining the control that’d only briefly been lost in his head. Suddenly Travis did feel better. In control.

He cleared his throat. “It’s been great catching up, but as you can see—” he gestured to the foot-high stack of paperwork threatening to topple “—I’ve got a full plate. So, what’s the problem? My sister need more shopping cash or lost her ATM card? Where is she, by the way?”

Even though it’d been over a decade since Travis had last seen Kit, her grass-green eyes were still piercing, her smile still pretty—at least until it faded like the sun blanketed by clouds. She then began fidgeting, rummaging through a purse that looked more like a small picnic basket until she found a tissue. Next came a slight hiccup before a full-force gale leading to a teary monsoon.

“Hey, whoa…” he said, walking out from behind his desk to slip his arm around her—in a strictly brotherly way. Nothing remotely like the way he used to hold her all those years ago. Not sure what else to do, he gave her a few awkward pats. “I’m, uh, sure everything’s going to be okay.”

“No,” she said, “not ever. Oh, Travis. Marlene, she’s—”

Travis’s intercom buzzed. “Mr. Callahan, Steve Ford from Kline and Foster is holding on line three. He says it’s urgent.”

Crap. Torn between the sobbing beauty in front of him and the make-or-break deal awaiting him on the phone, Travis weighed his options. Door number one: do the decent thing and help his sister’s gal pal through whatever crisis had her down. No doubt boyfriend or money trouble. Temporarily frustrating but ultimately fixable. Door number two: get the kinks worked out of a merger he’d been setting up for close to a year that would net Rose Industries a cool fifty million.

“Sorry…” he said to the woman who might as well have been from another lifetime. One in which he hadn’t been the jaded, world-weary soul he was today. “I’ve got to take this call.”

She nodded and sniffled.

He gave her back another pat.

Five minutes later, back behind his desk, he hung up the phone. “You any better?”

“No,” she said, even though she’d nodded.

“Well, if it’s love that’s got you down, no doubt Marlene and her big mouth have let you in on the fact that I don’t get it—the whole institution—so I won’t be of much help to you there. However, if you’ve got creditors on your back, I’d be happy to see what I can do.”

“Th-thank you,” she said, “but neither of those scenarios apply. I wish they did, but—”

“Mr. Callahan, Helena Liatos with Vamvakidis Shipping is on line two. She says it’s urgent.”

“Go ahead,” his sister’s friend said. “The news I have will wait. Your sister’s already dead.”

He’d been on the line a good two minutes when he said to the woman Kit presumed was Helena, “I’m going to transfer you to my money man for your answer.” Ten seconds later, his intense dark gaze focused on her, he asked, “What did you say?”

“I’m sorry, Travis. I’d planned to break it to you gently, but—”

“Look…” He shook his head. “I know I haven’t visited Marlie like I should. And as for you, well, what we shared was amazing. But I really don’t see how that gives the two of you the right to barge in here, mucking up my day with sick practical jokes when—”

“Trust me,” she said, swallowing hard. “This is no joke. I’m sorry, Travis. So very sorry. But your sister’s dead.”

“What?” Travis lurched forward in his chair. Surely he hadn’t heard Kit right? But the grim set of her once-smiling mouth had him thinking otherwise. She dug in her picnic basket of a purse again and pulled out a press clipping, which she handed to him. Under a heading that read “Fiery Crash Destroys Young Family” were two photos. One of a mangled car, the other the most recent photo Marlene had had taken of Libby when a traveling photographer had been at the Hartsville Wal-Mart four weeks ago. Travis knew when it’d been taken because Marlie had sent him a copy. Logically, he thought, if she was still around to send pictures, making him feel guilty about already having missed so much of Libby’s small life, then this visit from Kit was no doubt another ploy to get him to—

“It was sudden,” Kit said. “I was babysitting and she and Gary were driving home from Joe’s Tavern—you know, that old two-step place out on Highway 14? Marlene loves—loved—to dance. Anyway, Gary hadn’t had a drop to drink all night, but you know how foggy it gets on Bald Mountain. A truck driver cut that sharp curve by the abandoned gas station. G-Gary—he died instantly. But Marlene hung on long enough to—”

“No,” Travis said with a firm shake of his head. Pushing his chair back, he stood. Paced before the stunning floor-to-ceiling view of glistening Lake Michigan. It was a breezy day and the shoreline was alive with sailboats. Travis had always wanted to learn to sail—not that he didn’t already know the basics from back when he’d taken lessons as a kid, but he now wanted to know the exhilarating sport inside and out. Just hadn’t yet had the time. Maybe when Marlene finally moved back home to Chicago they could pick a boat together. Something with a safe spot for Libby and landlubber Gary, who was a great guy.