Always Daddy Read online

  He’s more than a man—he’s a fabulous father!

  AVAILABLE JUNE 2009

  1) Anything for Danny by Carla Cassidy

  2) Father in the Making by Marie Ferrarella

  3) Most Wanted Dad by Arlene James

  4) The Nine-Month Bride by Judy Christenberry

  AVAILABLE AUGUST 2009

  5) Instant Father by Lucy Gordon

  6) Daddy Lessons by Stella Bagwell

  7) Most Eligible Dad by Karen Rose Smith

  8) First Time, Forever by Cara Colter

  AVAILABLE SEPTEMBER 2009

  9) A Father’s Promise by Helen R. Myers

  10) The Women in Joe Sullivan’s Life by Marie Ferrarella

  11) Falling for a Father of Four by Arlene James

  12) Caleb’s Son by Laurie Paige

  AVAILABLE OCTOBER 2009

  13) Waiting for the Wedding by Carla Cassidy

  14) Daniel’s Daddy by Stella Bagwell

  15) Always Daddy by Karen Rose Smith

  16) The Billionaire’s Baby Chase by Valerie Parv

  Jonathan Wescott on Fatherhood…

  Dear Emily,

  I know I wasn’t around when you were born, when you blessed the world with your first smile, when you took your first step, when you started your first day of kindergarten. All these years I didn’t know I had a wonderful little girl like you.

  But now I do.

  I will read you stories, give you piggyback rides and hug you every chance I get. I guarantee that when you talk to me, I will listen. Because I love you.

  As you grow, I will answer your questions as honestly as I can, wipe your tears and try to make you smile. When you’re old enough to think about boys, I will warn you, I’ll probably interfere and ruthlessly interrogate anyone you choose to date. Because I love you.

  I promise you I will be the best dad I know how to be.

  Always,

  Daddy

  KAREN ROSE SMITH

  Always Daddy

  KAREN ROSE SMITH

  Award-winning and bestselling author Karen Rose Smith has had more than sixty-five novels published since 1991. Living in Pennsylvania with her husband—who was her college sweetheart—and their two cats, she has been writing full-time since the start of her career. Readers can receive updates on Karen’s latest releases and write to her through her Web site at www.karenrosesmith.com or at P.O. Box 1545, Hanover, PA 17331.

  FOR KEN—ALWAYS MOM.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Prologue

  Jonathan Wescott read the letter a second time, not believing the words on the white linen stationery. His hand shook as he looked up at his closest friend and attorney. “My God, how could Cecile have done this to me?”

  “From what her lawyer told me, she didn’t know she was pregnant until after she got to Philadelphia,” Adam Hobbs explained as he sat on the corner of the mahogany desk, his voice calm, yet his concern for his friend evident.

  Jon whisked the letter in front of Adam’s nose. “She says she told her lawyer I was dead and put the baby up for adoption because she knew I’d never let her put her career before a child. Am I such an ogre that she couldn’t at least tell me?”

  Adam scanned Jon’s six-foot-two athletic stature. “Of course not. You just never realized exactly how selfish Cecile was. She knew you’d want to keep the child, and she’d always be tied to you and the baby if you did. She didn’t want that responsibility.”

  “And now she’s dead and I’ve missed five years of my daughter’s life!” Jon restrained the anger that rolled through him, threatening to explode. He swore viciously and swung around to stare at the Los Angeles skyline from Adam’s seventh-story window as he realized that if Cecile hadn’t been killed, he might never have known he had a daughter. A daughter!

  A moment later, he felt Adam’s hand on his shoulder. They’d been friends since college and understood each other well. Although Adam’s specialty was corporate law and he handled Jon’s business matters, he advised Jon on personal matters, too. “Besides assuaging Cecile’s guilt, Jon, this letter’s a gift. If she hadn’t written it and left it with her attorney, you could have missed more than five years of your daughter’s life.”

  Though Cecile’s death was a shock, Jon wasn’t surprised it had happened in her red sports car. He’d constantly worried about her penchant for speed in that vehicle…as well as her drive to get to the top in her profession. She’d left L.A. for a position in the East because she’d decided furthering her career by becoming vice president of a cosmetics company was more important than their relationship. Today he’d learned that she also considered her career more important than their child.

  Adam dropped his hand to his side. “She left you more than the letter. Apparently her guilt got the best of her when she was on her deathbed. She left you blood samples.”

  Jon faced his friend. “I don’t understand.”

  “If a DNA typing lab has the blood sample of the mother, child and alleged father, paternity can be determined with practical certainty. On her order, Cecile’s attorney had her blood samples sent to a respected and reliable lab in Pittsburgh.”

  Jon wondered if Cecile had left the letter and blood samples because she’d once cared or because, as Adam suspected, guilt had eaten at her.

  Adam continued, “I did some checking after her lawyer called me. I felt I should know the facts about the adoption so I could prepare you.”

  But Jon hadn’t let Adam prepare him. As usual, he’d cut off his friend’s preamble and platitudes and ordered him to cut to the bottom line. That’s when Adam had handed Jon the letter from Cecile, the letter she’d directed her lawyer to open on her death. The enormity of the information enclosed was starting to sink in.

  His jaw set, his broad shoulders straight, Jon faced the circumstances head-on. “What did you find out?”

  Adam picked up the notes on his desk. “The couple who adopted your daughter took her home the day after she was born. They adopted privately for a reason. Alicia Fallon was twenty-two—her husband was fifty-two. The PI’s report said her husband had a low sperm count. And with him that age, they would have had a problem going through an agency. They also didn’t want to wait the years it might have taken through normal channels.”

  Jon paced across the oriental rug. “I never could understand a match with that kind of age difference. What could they possibly have in common? When my daughter’s sixteen—”

  “It won’t matter, Jon. Patrick Fallon died of a heart attack two years ago. Alicia Fallon is a widow.”

  Jon stood still. Thank God he had money. He’d learned at an early age that it was a persuasive tool, that it could buy him information and services and bend minds to his way of thinking. “Where does this Fallon woman live?”

  “Camp Hill, Pennsylvania.”

  Jon raked his fingers through his thick black hair. “Draw up papers for visitation rights for now. I want to file for custody but first I need to know the situation.” Crossing to the desk, he lifted the receiver on Adam’s intercom and buzzed the lawyer’s secretary. “Suz, it’s Jon. Get me the first flight out to Pennsylvania. Find the closest airport to Camp Hill. That’s two words?”

  Adam nodded, then frowned. “Jon, you can’t just go racing out there.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you don’t want to scare this woman. You don’t want to put your chances for custody in jeopardy.”

  “Save
the arguments for boardroom negotiations, Adam. I’m going to see my daughter and the sooner the better.”

  Chapter One

  Alicia Fallon pushed a lock of her blond hair away from her cheek and flipped on the printer. As it warmed up, she turned back to her computer, studying the logo she’d designed. Smiling, she mentally patted herself on the back. It was good work and a large account. Starting her own business with the insurance money she’d received after Patrick’s death had been a risk. She wasn’t usually a woman who took risks, but this one had paid off.

  The sound of Emily’s laughter drifted down the short flight of stairs from the kitchen into Alicia’s office. She liked to leave the door open when she wasn’t assisting clients so she could hear Emily’s squeals and chatter as she played and spoke to Gertie. If the door was open, Emily knew she could come down and visit with her mother. This split-level was perfect for them, although Alicia had been sad to leave Patrick’s house where she’d found comfort and safety for the first time in her life.

  The single ding of her office doorbell alerted her to her new client arriving. He’d called the day before to set up an appointment to discuss a promotional brochure for a charity benefit his company was planning. She’d forgotten to ask him who had recommended her graphic design business.

  When Alicia went to the door and saw the man standing there, she took a step back. He was tall and dark, with too stern a jaw to be called handsome. The male musk scent of his cologne wafted through the screen along with the April breeze. His deep baritone on the phone hadn’t prepared her for his imposing presence. Maybe it was the coal blue classic striped suit that made his shoulders seem so broad, his legs so long.

  She took a deep breath and opened the screen door. Putting on her cool, professional face, she asked, “Mr. Wescott?”

  He smiled, the harsh line of his jaw seeming to soften. But his piercing green eyes kept her on guard. That was her usual response to men who exuded power, dominance, and a hint of arrogance in their demeanor. She preferred pussycats. Or maybe she was simply afraid of tigers. Life had taught her to be.

  “Yes, and you’re Mrs. Fallon?” he extended his hand.

  Impeccable manners, too. As soon as his hand enfolded hers, her gaze was drawn up to his. A tremor ran through her, an excited little tremor that was as foreign as the German she’d tried to master in college. Swallowing, she pulled her hand from his grasp, crossed the room, and sat in the chair behind her desk.

  Motioning to the upholstered chair across from her, she asked, “How can I help you?”

  He seemed to hesitate a moment. After scanning the office with a quick sweep of his eyes over the mauve and powder blue flowered decor as well as the room beyond where her workroom was set up, he appraised her. She could feel his evaluation from the tip of her blond head, clear down her pink blouse and slacks to the ivory flats she’d slipped on this morning. She fought the urge to pull her chair further into her desk.

  He seemed to hesitate for a moment before he took the seat she offered. Reaching into his inner jacket pocket, he pulled out a program, a paper with updated information, and an invitation. He laid them in front of her. “This is what we did last year. Can you come up with something similar for this year?”

  Wescott Enterprises announces its charity gala, she read. Rolling her chair closer to the desk, she examined the front and inside of the folded program. “This is straightforward. How many are you considering?”

  “Six hundred programs. I’ll need two hundred fifty invitations, too. Black on off-white. Understated.”

  Turning the program over, she noticed the address. California? She frowned. “Mr. Wescott…”

  “Jon.”

  Her gaze bumped into his. Using his first name seemed too…familiar. “This event takes place in Los Angeles?”

  He nodded. “That’s where Wescott Industries is located.”

  Even if his company was small, she thought, surely a secretary could take care of something like this. “But you want to have them printed here?”

  His shoulders straightened slightly and the nerve along his jaw worked. “I’m in Camp Hill on business. I don’t know how long it will take. While I’m here, I thought I’d take care of some odds and ends. Is there a problem?”

  Maybe he was as much a perfectionist as she was and liked to take care of every detail himself. “No, I suppose not. How soon do you need them?”

  “As soon as you can get them done. The date this year is June 20.”

  That was over two months away. She still couldn’t understand why he was having them printed here, unless as owner of the company he was involved in every detail and had to approve it. “This only involves typesetting. If I get them to the printer by Friday, we’re probably looking at the middle of next week. When I get an estimate—”

  Clatter and clamor interrupted Alicia as Emily pounded down the stairs, an oatmeal cookie in each hand. “Want one, Mommy? Gertie said—”

  The child stopped midstaircase when she saw Jon Wescott. She sank onto the step and looked to her mother for what to do next.

  Alicia held out her arms. “It’s okay, honey. Come here.”

  Emily grinned and scampered down the remaining steps, zipped past Jon and climbed onto Alicia’s lap. Munching on one cookie, Emily offered the other to her mother while glancing at Jon beneath lowered lashes.

  Jon was stunned. Not just by his child, but also by Alicia. He hadn’t expected to meet her in her home, for one thing. He also hadn’t expected such a beautiful face, wary blue eyes and long blond hair that looked as soft as her voice sounded. Her tailored blouse in no way detracted from her femininity. Everything about Alicia Fallon was utterly feminine and appealing. He was used to dealing with sharper, more…sophisticated women.

  And her daughter, his daughter, was enchanting. Her dark brown hair curled around her ears and cheeks. Her green eyes were the same color as his. As cookie crumbs collected around her mouth, he leaned forward and smiled.

  “Are oatmeal cookies your favorite snack?” he asked, urged by the need to make some kind of contact with his daughter.

  Emily wriggled on her mother’s lap. “I like lollipops, too.”

  Alicia gave her daughter a hug. “Too much. I have to ration her.”

  Emily slid from her mother’s lap and came to stand beside Jon. “I can have one after lunch. But I can’t run with it in my mouth.”

  Jon pretended seriousness. “That’s important to remember.”

  Emily nodded soberly. “Mommy says so.”

  “Honey, why don’t you go see what Gertie’s doing,” Alicia suggested with a nod up the stairs.

  Emily held on to the arm of Jon’s chair and swayed back and forth. “She’s foldin’ clothes.”

  “Think you can help her?”

  Emily sighed a little-girl sigh. “I guess.” She peered over the top of her mother’s desk at the cookie. “Are you gonna eat that?”

  “After I’m finished talking business with Mr. Wescott.”

  Emily took a last look at Jon and darted up the stairs.

  Jon stared at the back of the child’s denim overalls. “She’s adorable.”

  “I think so.”

  Alicia’s smile was uninhibited and warm, and she’d lost her aura of reserve. She’d been so natural with Emily, so attentive. As if no one or nothing could be more important at that moment. She hadn’t been at all impatient that Emily had intruded into a business meeting. He could imagine what Cecile would have done. Of course, she wouldn’t have had a child at her place of business.

  “Does she bring you snacks often?”

  Alicia became coolly polite again. “Are you asking if I’m constantly interrupted?”

  He kept his voice friendly, though impatience and getting a glimpse of his daughter prompted him to tell her why he was really here. “She’s a pleasant interruption.”

  Seeing that he wasn’t criticizing, Alicia relaxed. “She’s in kindergarten in the mornings. I have a neighbor who c
omes here to watch her in the afternoon. When I leave the door open, Emily knows she can come down. I forgot to close it after you came in.”

  Had she experienced a physical reaction to him as he had to her? Jon wondered. Is that why she’d forgotten the open door? “How long have you been in business?”

  Alicia picked up his sample invitation, examining it as she answered, “Two years. How did you find out about Designs For You?”

  Jon shifted in his chair, feeling guilty for deceiving her. But after Adam realized he couldn’t dissuade Jon from the trip, his lawyer had drummed into his head that he couldn’t just blurt out the truth. After discovering what Alicia did for a living, this seemed like a good way to make initial contact. And he did plan to contract for her services.

  “The yellow pages,” he answered. Thank goodness he’d checked her listing before he called. He demanded honesty from everyone he dealt with from his personal life to his business encounters. He didn’t want to lie to this woman.

  Alicia leaned back in her swivel chair. “It’s amazing how many clients I get that way.” Studying the program this time, she said, “I can call you with an estimate tomorrow.”

  “I’d rather stop by.”

  Her gaze snapped to his. “Pardon me?”

  He had to make this sound logical and practical. “I’m staying at the Excelsior. I have a few appointments tomorrow and will be in and out. I can easily just stop in around one if that fits into your schedule.”

  She flipped her appointment calendar to the following day and glanced at a list on her desk. “I think I can fit in working on a proof tomorrow morning. Do you want a similar type style?”

  “Can you show me the choices?” He didn’t care a whit about type style, but he didn’t want to leave yet.

  Taking a folder from the shelves behind her, she opened it and removed two style sheets. “Number twenty is the closest to what you have now.”