“Why don’t I take you down,” Catherine suggested.
It took a fair amount of self-control not to leap up and kiss her. “You don’t mind?” He had to ask. Pride demanded that much, at least.
“Not a bit. Go ahead and enjoy your coffee,” Catherine suggested, her gaze returning to him. “We won’t be more than a few minutes.”
He should refuse. Royce knew it the minute she made the offer, but Kelly was looking up at him, her eyes alive with excitement, and before he could argue with himself, he nodded.
A daughter, Catherine mused. Royce had a daughter. Catherine had worked with him for five weeks, and no one had bothered to mention the fact he’d been married or that he was raising Kelly. The child was incredibly sweet, with long dark hair and eyes so blue they reminded Catherine of wild bluebonnets. Kelly was as gentle and cute as Royce was remote and indifferent.
Catherine had noted how closely Royce had watched her when he introduced Kelly. His eyes had darkened into a brittle defiance as though he expected her to do or say something about the fact she hadn’t known about the child. She found herself staring at him and the proud lines of his chiseled features. Catherine’s gaze had moved smoothly from father to daughter. There was no doubt in her mind the two were related. Kelly possessed the same beautiful blue eyes, and although her face was heart-shaped and feminine, she was clearly a Nyland.
Until she’d walked into the shopping complex, Catherine hadn’t realized how hungry she was for the sight of Royce. From clear across the other side of the mall, she’d walked directly to his side, guided by instinct to the man who’d dominated her thoughts for days on end.
“We went to the J. C. Penney store,” Kelly explained as they walked side by side down the wide concourse, “but all the jackets in my size were sold. We looked and looked and I was feeling really low so Dad bought me a Pepsi and then we saw you,” Kelly explained in one giant breath. “Your jacket is just perfect.”
Catherine had bought it a couple of weeks earlier. Being new to the Pacific Northwest, she needed something heavier than a raincoat. The jacket had caught her eye in a ski shop, and although Catherine didn’t ski, she’d been attracted to the colors, just the way Kelly had.
“I like it, too. And as I recall, they did have children’s sizes.”
“Dad doesn’t like to shop much,” Kelly explained as they wove their way between the moving crowd. “He does it for me, but I know he’d rather be watching a silly football game. Men are like that, you know?”
“So I’ve heard.” As far as understanding the male of the species, Royce’s daughter knew a whole lot more than Catherine did. For as long as she could remember, it had always been her and her mother. In college she’d lived in a girls’ dormitory.
“Dad tries real hard, but he doesn’t understand a lot of things about girls.”
Catherine couldn’t help grinning at that. Evidently she wasn’t the only one at a loss when it came to understanding the opposite sex. Apparently what she and Royce needed was a ten-year-old to straighten out their lives.
They found the store, and indeed there was a jacket almost identical to the one Catherine had that was in Kelly’s size. After Royce’s daughter tried it on and modeled it in front of a mirror, Catherine had the salesclerk put it on hold.
Kelly raced back to the large open eating area to tell Royce about the rare find. Catherine followed close behind.
“It’s got pink and green and blue. Not the same shade of blue as Catherine’s, but almost. I can have it, can’t I?” She dug into her small pocket at the top of her jeans and dragged out the five single dollar bills one at a time and then several coins from a different pocket. “I’ll pay for part of it.”
Royce stood and tossed the empty coffee cup into the garbage. “All right, all right. I know when I’m defeated.” He glanced over at Catherine and winked.
Catherine couldn’t believe it. The iceman winked as if he were a regular human being. Royce Nyland was one man in the office, another on the running track and someone else entirely different when he was with his daughter.
“I…can see you’ve got everything under control here,” Catherine said, thinking she should probably leave. She felt awkward with Royce.
“Don’t go,” Kelly cried, reaching for Catherine’s hand with both of her own. “Dad said he’d buy me pizza for lunch, and I want you to come, too.”
“I’m sure Catherine has other plans,” Royce said matter-of-factly.
Catherine noted that he didn’t repeat the invitation, which was just as well. Yet, she couldn’t hold back the sense of disappointment. “Yes, I do have some things to do. I was just going into the pet store to buy my cat a new litter box.”
“I love the pet store,” Kelly piped in eagerly. “Once they even let me hold a new puppy. I wanted to buy it real bad, but Dad said we couldn’t because there wouldn’t be anyone home during the day to take care of him.”
Catherine’s heart melted as she gazed down on Royce’s daughter. So young and tender. Catherine remembered herself at that age and how life had been such a wonderful adventure then.
“Oh, do come, Catherine. Please.”
Catherine’s gaze moved to Royce. She expected his eyes to be cool and unreadable as they were so much of the time. Instead she found them troubled and unsure, yet inviting. Catherine felt as if the air had been sucked from her lungs.
“I…are you sure I wouldn’t be intruding?” By everything that was right, she knew she should refuse. They were standing so close to the fire, close enough to get burned, and yet they each seemed to be taking turns tossing kindling into the flames.
“I’m sure,” Royce answered.
“Oh, good,” Kelly cried, seemingly unaware of the tension between Catherine and her father. “I certainly hope you don’t like anchovies. Dad gets them on his half whenever we order pizza. Those things are disgusting.”
A half hour later, they were sitting in a pizza parlor. Catherine and Kelly shared an Italian sausage and olive pizza pie while Royce ate his own, covered with the tiny fish both women found so offensive.
Although it was comfortably warm inside the restaurant, Kelly insisted upon wearing her new coat.
“Are those fingernails actually yours?” Kelly asked halfway through the meal.
Catherine nodded, her mouth full of pizza.
“You mean you don’t have a single acrylic tip?”
It was incredible to Catherine that a ten-year-old knew about such things. “Not even one,” she assured the girl.
Kelly’s eyes widened with renewed respect. She held up her hand for Catherine to examine, showing the short, stubby ends of her own nails. Catherine reached for her purse and brought out her fingernail kit for Kelly to examine, explaining each instrument.
“What are you two talking about?” Royce demanded in mock exasperation. “As near as I can figure, you women have your own language.”
