Second Chance Seduction. Monica Richardson

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Second Chance Seduction - Monica Richardson Mills & Boon Kimani

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and Skittles. He watched for Chloe. Expected her to rush to his car as she had every single Friday afternoon—her thick ponytails would be flying in different directions, the plaid skirt that she wore would be twisted in the back, and she’d offer him the biggest snaggletoothed smile that he loved so much.

      Surely she remembered it was Friday. And not just any Friday, but the one on which her favorite movie came out at the theaters. They would smuggle the bag of candy into the auditorium in her backpack. They would order a large bucket of popcorn and a large Coke to share, and they would sit in the middle of the theater. Not too close to the screen, but not too far in the back. Right in the center.

      Miss Jennings marched out of the school, a row of kindergartners following close behind. Edward sat straight up in his seat. He didn’t want to be caught slouching as he scanned the row of children in search of his daughter. When he saw her, he smiled. Her ponytails flew in opposite directions, just as he’d suspected. She rushed to the car when she spotted him, Miss Jennings following close behind. Chloe pulled on the door handle and hopped inside. Miss Jennings stuck her head inside.

      “Hello, Mr. Talbot.” She gave him that same flirty smile that she always gave him.

      The first time he saw the smile, he thought he was mistaken. Thought it was innocent until the time she gave him a raise of the eyebrows followed by a slip of her phone number during a parent-teacher conference. He never called. Feared that it would be a conflict of interest, dating his daughter’s teacher. Not to mention, she wasn’t his type.

      He’d dated a few women after the divorce. Freda was the attractive psychologist that he’d met at a conference. She was the total package—beautiful, smart, independent. A nice catch, but she was too bossy. She wanted to dress him and mold him into what she wanted him to be, and he wasn’t that type of man. He had his own agenda. Miranda was conservative and laid-back, accommodating. Too accommodating for his taste. She was the total package, too—beautiful, smart, independent—but there was no mystery. He’d managed to find something wrong with every woman he dated.

      “Hello, Miss Jennings.” Edward was cordial.

      “Her homework is in her backpack,” she said.

      “Thanks.”

      “Have a great weekend, Chloe. I’ll see you on Monday.”

      “Bye, Miss Jennings!” Chloe exclaimed before shutting her door. “Hi, Daddy!”

      “Hello, Princess.” He tapped the side of his face until she leaned over and kissed it.

      “How was school?”

      “Awesome!”

      “For you, madam.” He handed her the single yellow flower.

      She smelled it and then stuck it into her hair. “It’s pretty, Daddy. Thank you.”

      “You’re welcome.”

      “You got the goods.” She grinned wickedly as she peeked into the plastic bag filled with candy. She fastened her seat belt.

      He knew that he shouldn’t let her ride in the front seat. She was supposed to be buckled up in her car seat in the back, but some days he made an exception. And this was one of them.

      “I got the goods.” Edward smiled as he pulled out of the school’s parking lot.

      Chloe stuffed the bag of candy into her backpack. “What time does the movie start?”

      “Four o’clock,” he said. “If we hurry, we can make it before the previews are over.”

      “Cool.” She toyed with his stereo until she found her favorite satellite radio station. She sang along with Katy Perry.

      * * *

      The theater was crowded. It seemed that every child in America had shown up for the premiere of the movie. Edward purchased tickets and then the two made a beeline for the concession stand. He held on to Chloe’s hand.

      “How’s your mommy doing?” he asked as they stood in line.

      “She’s fine,” said Chloe. “She misses you.”

      “Really? How do you know?”

      “She talks about you all the time.”

      “Really,” he asked, and tried to seem unfazed by her remarks. But he couldn’t help prying. “Like what?”

      “I don’t know, Daddy. Just saying stuff like ‘your daddy and I used to listen to this type of music’ or ‘your daddy really likes this kind of food.’”

      “I see,” said Edward.

      “Do you still love her?”

      “I will always love your mom. And you. We’re always going to be family.”

      “Even when we move to London?”

      “Your mom talked to you about London?”

      “She said we’re going to live with her mother, Nyle.”

      “How do you feel about that?”

      “I don’t want to go, Daddy. Please don’t make me go. If we go there, I won’t get to spend the weekends with you anymore.”

      “Don’t worry, baby. You’re not going anywhere.” Edward kissed Chloe’s hand. “I’ll make sure of it.”

      He intended to speak with Savannah about filling his daughter’s head with her fantasies of moving away. As soon as the movie was over he’d confront her.

      * * *

      At home, Edward poured himself a glass of Merlot and began to prepare a vegetarian Caribbean meal for two. Being reared in the Bahamas, he’d learned his way around a kitchen. Growing up in a large family with three sisters and a mother who could cook, he was spoiled. Never had to worry about cooking. But after marrying Savannah, he was forced to become a great cook, considering his wife could barely boil water. He would call home to his mother in the Bahamas and she’d equip him with her recipes.

      After his father’s heart attack scare, Edward had become obsessed with his diet—only feasting on fish and chicken and incorporating more vegetables into his diet. He insisted on healthy eating in order to prevent heart disease and other ailments that bad eating caused. He needed to be healthy for his daughter, and he wouldn’t compromise that. He visited the gym every other morning, if for nothing more than a run on the treadmill.

      “You think you can break up the broccoli?” Edward asked Chloe.

      “I can do it.” She stood on a step stool in front of the kitchen’s island with the granite top.

      “Good!” He pulled her ponytail. “You do the broccoli and I’ll cut up the peppers and onions.”

      He headed into the living room and tuned the stereo to his Afro-Cuban playlist. He could hear his phone ringing in the kitchen.

      “Daddy, it’s Mommy!” Chloe called from the kitchen.

      He

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