Delinquent Daddy
Linda Kage
Delinquent Daddy
by Linda Kage
The Wild Rose Press
www.thewildrosepress.com
Copyright ©Linda Grotheer
First published in 2010
NOTICE: This eBook is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution to any person via email, floppy disk, network, print out, or any other means is a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines and/or imprisonment. This notice overrides the Adobe Reader permissions which are erroneous. This eBook cannot be legally lent or given to others.
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CONTENTS
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
A word about the author...
* * * *
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Boston tore the note from Olivia's hand.
Dear Mr. Montgomery Kincaid, My name is Cassidy Trenton. I am nine years and ten months old. I am looking for my dad. My mom is Ellie Trenton. She will not tell me his name, but she met him in college. She said he was the son of an astronaut and named after a state capital. I read about you in the magazine. You married the famous model Shannon March. They said you went to the same college my mom went to. They said your dad was a real-life astronaut. You are named after the capital of Alabama. Are you my dad? Please come meet me.
Sincerely,
Cassie Trenton
Frozen with horror, Boston could only gape. The blood congealed in his veins.
Yes, he'd done it now. He'd thought Ellie's name, and look what atrocity had emerged.
Dear God. She'd even dubbed the baby Cassie—the very name he'd chosen.
His stomach churned.
This was wrong. All wrong. It wasn't possible. That baby was dead.
He clearly remembered Ellie saying, "There is no baby. The baby's gone."
"Umm...guys?" came Olivia's voice from beside him. A moment later, Monty tore the letter from his grasp.
Boston lifted his face.
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His brother's jaw sagged. "Holy Shit, Boston," he said, glancing down at the child's scrawl. "This letter was meant for you."
Boston shook his head briefly to deny it. "No," he rasped.
"It can't be. Ellie...she told me she had a miscarriage."
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Delinquent
Daddy
by
Linda Kage
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Delinquent Daddy
COPYRIGHT (C) 2010 by Linda Grotheer All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected] Cover Art by Angela Anderson
The Wild Rose Press
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0706
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com Publishing History
First Champagne Rose Edition, 2010
Print ISBN 1-60154-850-8
Published in the United States of America 8
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Dedication
For Doris Lee
[Back to Table of Contents]
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Chapter One
Boston Kincaid needed a woman. Bad.
Even his secretary had about tempted him into falling for one of her seduction attempts this afternoon. Not that Crystal was homely looking or easily turned down. On a scale of one to ten, she rated a high eight, if not an outright nine with her long, shapely legs and high, proud breasts.
But it hadn't taken him long to realize she'd most likely slept her way into her current position. All those glowing references—given by men, of course—definitely hadn't come because of her filing abilities or correspondence skills.
Boston swore he'd keep his distance. But today, it had been hard...literally. He wanted sex. He wanted to feel some soft, giving skin, breathe in that intoxicating smell of woman, and lose himself between a pair of lush breasts and smooth, sleek thighs.
Sighing, he shifted in the suddenly cramped driver's seat of his Infiniti and glared out the window at the soggy rain coating the manicured lawn in front of the house where he'd parked.
"Stupid rain," he muttered.
If Boston wanted to be perfectly honest with himself—and in this situation, he did not—he'd admit it wasn't Crystal who had made him so horny. It was this god-awful drizzle running down his windshield, stirring up unwanted yet too-delicious-to-forget memories.
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He closed his eyes and wished his passenger to hurry her sweet tush up so he wouldn't have to sit here, waiting—and remembering—any longer. But with his lids clamped tight, the constant tap, tap, tap of raindrops on the glass seemed to taunt him.
You'll never, never, never forget, they goaded.
His ears twitched and focused on the sprinkle outside, making his body tighten with the memory of the first time he'd ever made love in the rain. In his mind's eye, he saw long flowing hair, big brown eyes and sweet, curving lips that had always been able to send him to his knees. He'd never been with anyone so responsive or responded to someone so fully in his life.
The vision stirred as much as it aggravated. God, he hated the rain. This kind of slow, continuous spray always made him want sex. It made him want...Ellie.
"Ellie," his lips formed the name, though he refused to speak it aloud.
Letting out an irritated growl, he opened his eyes and ran a harassed hand through his hair. Great. He'd thought her name. To Boston, even thinking that name was a bad omen.
He might as well go to a mirror and say Bloody Mary three times because now he was going to be plagued with haunting memories.
But, oh, what fine memories they were.
His seat grew even more uncomfortable. Boston arched his back and reached down to readjust, thinking how easy it'd be to relieve himself off that single memory alone.
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He snapped his hand from his crotch, humiliated with his moronic thoughts. Just because he'd had the best sex of his life a decade ago with some old flame in the drizzly-ass rain didn't mean he had to make a comp
lete fool of himself every time the clouds turned gray.
The porch light to the house came on and Boston straightened, guiltily wiping a bead of sweat from his brow.
He watched the front door open. A ladybug umbrella appeared first before it lifted to shield the woman under it from the damp evening.
Boston sucked in an audible breath. The vision that dodged puddles on her sidewalk as she hurried toward his Infiniti blew Crystal's nine totally out of the water. Olivia Banks was a straight eleven. Petite, curvy, and soft in all the right places.
He knew too. He'd seen her naked once. Purely by accident, but it wasn't the kind of thing he was likely to forget, especially in his current frame of mind. Yet a night with Olivia was not meant to be. She belonged to his best friend...his best friend who also happened to be his first cousin, business partner, and ultimate pain in the ass.
So, what was this goddess of womanly delights doing, spending the evening with Boston Kincaid? Actually, it was all because of his pain-in-the-ass first cousin, business partner, best friend. Cameron was out of town on a business trip, and when he'd called an hour before with his request, Boston had only managed to wing up his eyebrows in surprise.
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"Excuse me? Did you just ask me to spend the evening alone with your gorgeous wife?" Boston gave a quick, ornery grin. "Well, sure thing, buddy. No problem."
"You guys won't be alone, smartass," Cam growled through the phone. "I already know you're headed to your brother's for supper. I just want you to take her along for company. She misses me bad this time."
Boston snorted. "No, she doesn't. She loves it when you're gone. Then she can finally spend time— alone—with me."
It had to be one of Boston's favorite pastimes to needle his cousin about his gorgeous wife. Cam had never been so prickly or possessive before. It'd been sickening and a little heartrending to watch his best friend take the plunge into marriage. Sometimes Boston couldn't help but be a tad jealous when he saw a grinning, satisfied Cameron stroll into work each morning...especially when he knew exactly what his friend was getting every night.
"In your dreams," Cameron scoffed, "I mean, go ahead and try your best to steal her, but..." He let out a self-satisfied sigh. "You won't succeed. I fear I've ruined her for every other man out there."
Boston chuckled as he hung up. In the back of his mind, though, the little green bug of envy nipped at him, and his antsy, twitchy need for sex doubled.
Olivia opened the passenger side door, and a cool, damp breeze entered with her.
Entertained by watching her try to close the umbrella and shut the door at the same time, Boston grinned. He genuinely liked Olivia. Not only was she fun to hang out with, but she 13
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loved his best friend to distraction and had pulled Cameron from the depths of depression a year ago, probably saving his life. Boston would be forever grateful she'd come into his cousin's world.
"Hey, beautiful," he said and leaned toward her for a kiss.
Obliging, Olivia pressed her cold, wet mouth to his and pulled away grinning. "What's Shannon cooking tonight?" she asked, more concerned with eating than smooching on him.
Instead of answering, Boston continued to lean toward her. "I've got an idea. Let's skip supper at Monty and Shannon's and run off to Tahiti together instead."
"But I'm starving," Olivia said, fluttering her lashes in a begging manner.
Boston cocked his most devastating grin. "I'll stop by a drive-through on the way."
She smiled and stroked his face. "Tempting. But maybe next time. Shannon really is getting better with this whole cooking thing."
Ever since she'd been married to Boston's brother, his sister-in-law, Shannon, had enrolled in cooking class after cooking class as a hobby. She was currently learning all things Thai.
Boston sighed. "You're shattering my ego here, darling.
I'm not supposed to be thrown over for a home-cooked meal."
"Aww," Olivia cooed and kissed his cheek in a motherly gesture. "Don't worry. I still love you."
Finally returning to his side of the car, he laughed and rolled his eyes. "I'm guessing you've already talked to Cam,"
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he said, transforming from playful to all business. He was better with business anyway.
"He told me he talked Spellman up to eight percent," she chirped and patted his arm with congratulations. "That's amazing. I'm impressed. But honestly, you guys earned it.
You've both put a lot of hours into this deal."
"Yeah," Boston agreed as he shifted the car into gear and started them toward Independence, Missouri where his brother lived.
He ignored the ghostly reflection he swore he saw of Ellie's face shimmering in his driver's side window and settled into a comfortable conversation with his passenger throughout the rest of the trip.
Boston was actually grateful Cameron had asked him to bring her along. Not only did he have someone to talk to on the forty-five-minute trek to his brother's, but he wouldn't feel like such a third wheel once he reached his destination.
His younger brother, Monty, had been married to Shannon for five months now, and a person had to believe they were stuck in the honeymoon stage. Boston always wanted to squirm when he was around them because they cuddled nonstop. And if those two were going to be their usual lovey-dovey-make-me-pukey selves, then he wouldn't feel quite like the odd man out with Olivia at his side...even if she was just a cousin.
She'd become one of the closest friends he had. So it wouldn't feel too weird pretending she was his other half for the evening. Still, his stomach tightened into knots as they pulled to the curb in front of Monty's place. Yes, it was time 15
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for another distinct reminder he was totally and utterly alone.
He'd rather just go home and be alone.
Tangy smells of an Oriental meal wafted their way as Olivia and Boston strolled up the walk toward the opened front door. The welcome sounds of family floated out to greet them.
"I want to see it again," Shannon said as Boston opened the screen door to let Olivia precede him inside.
"I still can't believe it," Montgomery Kincaid uttered in a hollow voice as he handed a sheet of folded stationary to his wife. "Every time I read it—"
"Hey, guys," Olivia called as Boston stepped inside behind her. "What's going on?"
"You won't believe this," Shannon said, popping to her feet and hurrying their way. "Monty got a letter today from a nine-year-old girl in Lawrence, asking if he's her father."
"Ohmigod, seriously?" Olivia turned wide eyes to Boston's brother.
Monty immediately shook his head and lifted both hands in surrender. "I'm not," he was quick to declare.
"I want to read it." Olivia snatched the letter from Shannon.
Boston nudged his brother with his elbow and wiggled his eyebrows. "You sure it's not your kid?"
In response, Monty flipped him the bird and called him a dirty name.
Too curious to stay away, Boston grinned and strolled forward to peek over Olivia's shoulder. Seeing the youthful 16
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handwriting made his skin prickle. As he read the salutation, a strange buzz filled his ears. His smile dropped flat.
"Wow," Olivia murmured, scanning the page. "I bet you had a cow when you first read this," she said to Shannon.
" Her?" Montgomery yelped in outrage. "What about me?
The thing was addressed to me, remember."
He glanced at Boston and shook his head miserably. But Boston was too busy frowning at the note to pay him any notice.
Monty turned back to Olivia. "I don't even know this woman she says her mom is. I never met a—" He paused and cocked his head thoughtfully to
the side, deep in thought.
"Now, wait a second. Maybe I do know her."
"What?" his wife croaked.
He snapped his fingers. "Yeah. We had a class together in college. Calculus. Her hair was long and dark, and she always sat in the front row next to this bald lesbian."
Shannon went sheet white. " Montgomery, " she whispered.
"Whoa. Hey. I never slept with her," he swore. "Never even talked to her, I don't think. I just remember my friend Alex asked her out once. She turned him down. Said she was already seeing someone."
"I wonder who she was seeing," Olivia murmured. "I bet he's the father."
Three feet away from them, Boston tore the note from Olivia's hand.
"Boston! What—"
But he didn't pay attention to the way she broke her words off, and he totally ignored how she studied him with a 17
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scrutinizing squint of the eyes. The dizzy spell that almost dropped him to his knees made his vision blur. He blinked repeatedly until he could focus on the words again. But no matter how many times he examined them, they continued to read the same.
Dear Mr. Montgomery Kincaid, My name is Cassidy Trenton. I am nine years and ten months old. I am looking for my dad. My mom is Ellie Trenton. She will not tell me his name, but she met him in college. She said he was the son of an astronaut and named after a state capital. I read about you in the magazine. You married the famous model Shannon March. They said you went to the same college my mom went to. They said your dad was a real-life astronaut. You are named after the capital of Alabama. Are you my dad? Please come meet me.
Sincerely,
Cassie Trenton
Frozen with horror, Boston could only gape. The blood congealed in his veins.
Yes, he'd done it now. He'd thought Ellie's name, and look what atrocity had emerged.
Dear God. She'd even dubbed the baby Cassie—the very name he'd chosen.
His stomach churned.
This was wrong. All wrong. It wasn't possible. That baby was dead.
He clearly remembered Ellie saying, "There is no baby. The baby's gone." She'd been pale and crying; he'd had no reason 18
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to think she was lying. "So just leave me alone, Boston. I never want to see you again. I want to move on and forget."
"Umm...guys?" came Olivia's voice from beside him. A moment later, Monty tore the letter from his grasp.
