Daddy's Girl (Bachelor Fathers) Page 6

  Besides, wanting to go to bed with him was nothing like falling in love. This was just hormones talking, plain and simple.

  She unlocked the door to their cabin and stepped inside. Hunter stood in the front room. Their eyes met. Then her eyes roamed. He wore trousers, open at the waist, and nothing else.

  No, he wouldn't laugh if he knew what she was thinking.

  He'd hose her down.

  She fled to the shower and locked the door behind her.

  Jeannie didn't see Hunter again until dinnertime.

  "I grabbed something to eat with the Captain," he said, shrugging off his jacket and loosening his tie. "I'll take over with Daisy. You might as well enjoy the trip."

  "Wonderful!" Jeannie forced a bright smile. "Let me change and I'm out of here."

  "Better move it," Hunter said. "Last seating's in ten minutes."

  The drop-dead cocktail dress greeted her when she slid open the closet door. Not tonight, she thought. She stripped off her shorts and t-shirt and donned a short red tank dress. Big silver earrings and a cuff bracelet and she was ready.

  "See you later," she said, heading for the door.

  He and Daisy were sitting on the floor rolling a bright yellow ball back and forth.

  Hunter looked up. "Have fun."

  She hesitated. "I'll be back early."

  He offered a smile. "Don't rush on our account. Enjoy yourself."

  Right, thought Hunter as she closed the door behind her. Enjoy yourself. Have a great time.

  He got to his feet and stormed around the little drawing room.

  He'd seen the way the crewmembers scoped out the females on board. If you were soprano and clean-shaven, you were fair game. Jeannie would be a tasty morsel for the hungry hordes.

  "Animals," he muttered as Daisy watched him with rapt curiosity. Wouldn't you think a woman should be able to eat dinner in peace without having to deal with men on the make?

  But hey--it wasn't any of his business. She was single and over twenty-one. She could do whatever she wanted as long as she was there for Daisy in the morning.

  "You're not going to date until you're thirty," he said to Daisy. "In fact, you might become a nun."

  Daisy laughed and waved her ring of plastic keys in the air.

  "Smart girl," he said, laughing along with the baby. "You know sound advice when you hear it."

  The change in Daisy these past eight months had been amazing. She'd morphed from the helpless, formless infant he'd brought back from Tokyo into a little person with a real personality and, he noted with amazement, the beginning of a sense of humor.

  Not that he had much to do with any of those changes. He suspected they would have happened right on schedule whether or not he'd been around to see them happening. Parents made a big mistake when they took credit for little Johnny's first step, first word, first everything--it was all part of the process that nature had laid out a millennium or two ago.

  The evening passed slowly. He bathed Daisy and put her to bed, sitting awhile with her until she fell asleep. The crib was set perpendicular to Jeannie's bed and he sat on the edge of the narrow mattress. It seemed to him that the faint scent of her perfume was everywhere, not overpowering but just enough to tantalize. To send his imagination down pathways he'd be better off avoiding.

  He wondered what she was doing then grimaced at the thought. It was none of his business if she let herself be seduced under the stars by some guy in an expensive suit.

  Quietly rose from the bed, took a quick glance at Daisy, then satisfied that she was sleeping soundly, walked into the sitting room. Tilting his head, he listened as footsteps approached the stateroom door.

  "Really, Eddie, I appreciate the offer but I simply can't." Jeannie's voice, her tone brisk and friendly, was unmistakable.

  "What's stopping you?" came a male voice. "You said you're not married."

  "That's right, I'm not married."

  At his side, Hunter's hands clenched into fists. If that sonofabitch so much as reached for Jeannie, he would--

  "Then what's the deal? It's only ten o'clock. The night's young. They've got a great band in the disco. I'll bet you're a terrific dancer."

  "Two left feet. It runs in my family. My parents couldn't even dance at their own wedding."

  "I'll teach you."

  "Not tonight, thanks."

  "I might not be available tomorrow night."

  "I'll take my chances," said Jeannie.

  Hunter grinned. Good going, Ross. You put that bozo in his place.

  Guys like that gave testosterone a bad rap. In his opinion they should be put on an ice floe and set adrift off the coast of Antarctica.

  Jeannie's key scratched in the lock and he took up his position, sprawled across the little sofa.

  "Back so soon?" He feigned a yawn.

  "Mmmph," said Jeannie.

  "How was dinner?"

  "Food, ten. Companion, zero."

  "Sorry." He tried to sound as if he meant it. "I thought there were some pretty nice people on board."

  "There are," said Jeannie. "Eddie wasn't one of them."

  "Eddie?"

  She kicked off her heels and glared at him as she sank into a mini version of a Queen Anne chair. "Oh, don't give me that innocent look, Hunter. You heard every single word we said out there."

  He felt like a kid caught peeping through a keyhole. "How'd you know?"

  She rolled her eyes and pointed to the floor near the door. "The light spilled under the door into the corridor." She paused for effect. "At least it does when you aren't standing there."

  "The guy was a jerk," Hunter said. "You were right to dump him."

  She ran her fingers through her short cap of silky black hair. Did she have any idea how sexy she looked when she did that? "I don't recall asking you," she said.

  "A lot of hormones on the loose on this ship. You'd better watch yourself."

  She laughed out loud. "I'll keep that in mind. Don't worry, Hunter," she said, rising to her feet. He watched, rapt, as her slinky red dress settled itself north of her knees. "I won't forget why I'm here. You have work to do. I'm here to give you the time to do it."

  He stood up and faced her. "Look, I didn't mean it the way it sounded, Jeannie."

  She glanced toward the porthole, at the moonlit sea shimmering beyond the glass, then back again at him. He wished he knew what she was thinking.

  "Is Daisy asleep?" she asked.

  That wasn't what he'd been expecting. "Out like a light. The sea air agrees with her."

  She moved toward the door to the room she shared with the baby. "I guess I'll turn in."

  "It's been a long day," he said.

  She gave him her first real smile of the evening. "And Daisy's bound to wake up at the crack of dawn."

  "Earlier," he said, relaxing. "My girl hits the ground running."

  "Goodnight, Hunter," she said, turning away. "Sleep well."

  Neither of them did.

  The rocking of the ship kept him awake. At least that's what he told himself as he lay in his narrow bed and stared up at the ceiling. It had nothing to do with Jeannie. Nothing at all.

  He didn't give a damn about her glossy black hair or sapphire blue eyes. The fact that she had the kind of sexy little body that was made for Spandex didn't matter. Her throaty laugh...her walk--

  Oh, hell.

  So what if a few fantasies fired their way across his inner landscape.

  They didn't mean a thing.

  Jeannie blamed it on her mattress. How could anyone sleep on a giant marshmallow? Certainly her sleeplessness had nothing to do with the fact that Hunter lay in his bed on the other side of the wall.

  Naked.

  She turned on her side and punched her pillow. Hard. He wasn't the kind to sleep in pajamas. Sweatpants were a possibility but unlikely in the summer. Besides, with a body like his, why would he cover it up? She buried her face in the pillow, wishing away the images burning her brain cells. He probably spent h
alf his time staring in the mirror at his own magnificence. She hated men who were in love with their own reflections.

  Not even that was enough to cool her imagination.

  In truth she knew there was more to Hunter Phillips than his glossy package would indicate. Selfishness was part and parcel of modern life. Not many men would give up their independence in order to raise a newborn baby. Fewer still would do so with the same degree of love and commitment as Hunter.

  You couldn't fake something like that. Maybe he was reluctant to think of Daisy as his daughter, but that didn't change the fact that he loved her in the way a baby needed to be loved. People talked a lot about quality time, but when you're eight months old, you need someone to hug you and rock you to sleep. As far as she could tell, Hunter had been there to do exactly that for Daisy.

  Hunter was nothing like Dan. There was an edge to Hunter that she had never seen in her late husband. Hunter was blatantly ambitious, aggressive, inclined to grab what he wanted, consequences be damned. She'd been watching him work on this trip and seen the way he pushed his agenda, driving forward in pursuit of his goal.

  That type of man had never appealed to her before, but she found herself wondering how it would feel to be the goal he was pursuing.

  Twice that night she got up to look at Daisy. She worked with babies every day. You would think she'd be immune to their charms. But how could she have forgotten the sweet smell of a sleeping child or the soft sounds they made as their dreams carried them away. It was all part of the same whole.

  She'd forgotten so much...pushed so many feelings away, just beyond reach. The dark longing for someone to hold her through the night. She missed sex and all it encompassed, it was true, but tenderness? Dear God, there was no substitute for someone who cared that you were happy at the end of a long day.

  Hunter woke up early the next morning, feeling disoriented. He was accustomed to the rumble of garbage trucks, the blare of taxis, the city's incessant roar. The absence of sound struck him as slightly strange. He washed and dressed quickly, half-expecting to hear Daisy's familiar morning wail but even that was absent.

  He glanced at the clock. Okay, he was about an hour ahead of schedule, but you'd think he'd hear something from the other room. Strange surroundings, strange roommate--the poor kid must be wondering what the hell was going on.

  He rapped lightly on the door to Jeannie's room. No answer. He rapped again. Still no answer. Babysitters weren't supposed to sleep like the dead.

  Slowly he pushed open the door. The room was dark. The curtains were drawn across the porthole. Sure enough, Daisy was wide-awake, happily playing with her toes. Back home she'd be wailing at the top of her lungs, demanding instant attention. Here she was content to smile up at the ceiling.

  He bent over the crib and scooped her up into his arms. To his surprise her diaper seemed dry. Definitely not your average morning. Turning, he glanced toward the bed pushed up against the wall. He'd told himself he wasn't going to look over at Jeannie, but the pull was undeniable.

  Not that there was anything to see. He took a step closer to the bed. The only clue that she was even in there was the silky cap of black hair peeking out from the covers. She stirred slightly, more a rustle of sheets than actual movement, but it was enough to send him heading for the door.

  Jeannie awoke slowly. She lay still, waiting for the familiar sounds of New York City to assail her. Instead she heard the ocean, the hum of the ship's engines, and--

  She sat up straight in bed, heart pounding.

  Daisy!

  There wasn't a sound from the crib. No soft breathing or happy gurgling or even downright crying. Nothing.

  She tossed back the covers and leaped from the bed.

  "Daisy! Are you--"

  The crib was empty.

  She stared down at it. The one thing she knew with certainty was that the baby didn't climb out on her own and stroll down to the dining room for breakfast.

  Hunter, she thought indignantly. He must have walked right into her room and fetched Daisy from her crib. Of course that wasn't a crime. Daisy was his daughter. He could fetch her any time he wanted to.

  But this was her room! He had no business barging into her bedroom like that, not unless Daisy had been crying or--

  "Oh God," she breathed. What if Daisy had been crying and she'd slept right through it? She wouldn't have imagined it possible, but what other explanation could there possibly be.

  She burst into the drawing room, heart pounding with fear. "Hunter! Is she okay? Where is--"

  She stopped dead in her tracks.

  "About time," said Hunter, looking up from feeding Daisy. "I ordered a little of everything, but it's first come, first served."

  The table was set with snowy white linens and piled high with platters of toasted bagels, flaky croissants, and mounds of fluffy scrambled eggs. A crystal goblet filled with fresh-squeezed orange juice waited for her--and a glorious pot of rich, strong coffee.

  Daisy was happily seated in a high chair, making a mess of her food.

  "Breakfast," he said, gesturing toward the tiny Queen Anne chair pulled up to the rolling cart. "I figured we should all have at least one meal together on this trip." He pointed to a bowl of hot cereal with pureed strawberries. "Even something special for Daisy."

  Jeannie pushed her hair off her forehead. "She's okay?"

  "Of course she's okay."

  First she felt relief. Then: "How dare you come into my room without my permission!"

  His jaw dropped. If she hadn't been so embarrassed, she would have laughed.

  "You were sleeping. I wanted to spend time with Daisy."

  A likely story. "Why didn't you knock?"

  "I did," he said. "Twice."

  Her face flamed. Now she sounded like a righteous incompetent. What a wonderful combination. "You should have knocked harder."

  "That would have defeated the purpose, Jeannie. I didn't want to wake you up."

  "I'm supposed to wake up," she said. "Daisy's my responsibility." She paused. "Besides, I deserve my privacy."

  "I didn't see anything, if that's what you're worried about." The twinkle in his eyes was unmistakable. "You had the covers pulled up to your eyeballs." He flashed her a downright wicked grin. "Not like right now."

  She glanced down and was horrified to see she was standing there in front of him in an oversized pink t-shirt and little else. "Oh my God!" Turning, she fled to her room as Hunter burst into laughter.

  It was either laugh or cry, Hunter thought as Jeannie disappeared in a blur of very appealing female flesh. Seeing her in a bathing suit had been tough enough on his self-control; seeing her in that short nightshirt was cruel and inhuman punishment.

  Even though he'd seen more of her body yesterday by the swimming pool, the impact had been softened by the circumstances. No such luck this morning. Seeing her rosy from sleep with her defenses down had lent an intimacy to the situation that had no business being there.

  "Forget it," he said out loud. Forget the supple line of her legs. Forget the faint scent of her skin that lingered in the air. Forget the way she looked more beautiful with her face scrubbed bare and her hair tousled than most women looked after a day in the salon.

  "Daah?" Daisy pounded on his arm with her chubby fist.

  "Sorry," he said, shaking away the disturbing thoughts. "Let's get back to breakfast."

  Jeannie emerged from her room a few minutes later and sat down to breakfast.

  Hunter finished feeding Daisy while Jeannie ate, then she took over so he could devour a bagel. But there was something else at work, an awareness of each other as a man and a woman that made each movement into something more.

  Their hands brushed when they reached for the cream cheese at the same time. He caught the faint scent of her perfume and thought of warm summer evenings, making love beneath the stars. She breathed in the tang of soap and wondered if his skin was still warm from his morning shower.

  When she bent down
to retrieve Daisy's fork, the shadow between her breasts sent his blood racing south. Dangerous business, wanting a woman who didn't want you.

  "Do you have a lot of meetings?" Jeannie asked.

  "Straight through until dinner," said Hunter.

  "So we won't see you again today?"

  "Probably not."

  "You're working awfully hard."

  "That's why they sent me." He watched, mesmerized by the sight of her breasts rising and falling beneath the thin cotton of her t-shirt. "I'm here to work. Nothing else."

  Hold that thought.

  Hunter had to work through dinner. "I'll keep Daisy with me," he said, not looking up from the mountain of paper scattered from one end of the cabin to the other. "You go and have fun."

  "Are you sure you don't want anything?"

  He looked up from his stack of papers. She wore a silky dress in a vivid shade of turquoise. The fact that it stopped a handful of inches above her knees wasn't lost on him. "If you stumbled across a BLT, I wouldn't complain."

  "I'll see what I can do."

  She closed the door behind her. Hunter reached for the glass of ice water on the table and debated the wisdom of dumping it on his head.

  She looked too sexy for his own good.

  And not only was she great to look at, she was down-to-earth, fun to be around, and terrific with kids.

  If she knew he was alive, he'd be in big trouble.

  The main ballroom of the Star of the Atlantic was ablaze with light. Huge crystal chandeliers twinkled overhead. Tuxedo-clad waiters bearing champagne circulated among the crowd. The music was lush. The atmosphere, heady with perfume and expectations.

  Jeannie gave it her best shot. She danced with those who asked her. She made frothy conversation with the same people she'd laughed with at lunchtime.

  But it was no use.

  She had just one thing on her mind.

  You're an idiot, she told herself. There she was in the middle of the ocean, on one of the most glamorous cruise ships in the world, and all she could think of was finding Hunter a BLT.