understand.
Now she did understand the sore throat all too well. Classic ‘get Daddy’s attention’ manoeuvre. But come on, what kind of father didn’t give his little girl attention when he was the only thing she had left?
The guy obviously had no idea Ruby’s attentionseeking behaviour could escalate so fast and in ways more dangerous than he would ever believe possible. Then again, maybe he knew, and maybe he simply didn’t care.
Meg nibbled at her bottom lip as she glanced back to the house. This wasn’t some shell-shocked urchin at the Valley Women’s Shelter happy to have a pair of warm, comforting arms around her no matter who they belonged to; this was a spunky, healthy-looking kid, surrounded by toys in a multimillion-dollar home. A home Meg was currently trespassing on.
She stood and took three steps back. ‘Sweetheart, I’m sure your dad knows where the ice cream is kept too.’
This time at mention of her father Ruby sat bolt upright. ‘He’s busy. He has an important job with lots of people counting on him. He works all week while I’m at boarding school and only comes home weekends when I come home. But I could go get him now if I really wanted to. To tell him about my throat and all. I just don’t want to.’
‘He works at the resort?’ Meg asked. The imaginary huffy bees were back, swirling about her head with increased volume and intensity.
Ruby said, ‘He owns this one and lots more all over the world. He’s going to take me on his plane and show me all the others one day. He promised. Just not right now. I have school when I’m not sick. But some day.’
Meg heard not much more than blah blah blah as she stared down at Ruby. The dark hair, the wary dark eyes, the natural intensity that even a supposed sore throat couldn’t dampen. Once she saw the similarity it was so blaringly obvious she felt like a fool for not noticing it sooner.
Her blood pounded so loudly in her ears her voice came out rather more flat than she would have liked when she said, ‘You’re Zach Jones’s daughter.’
Ruby’s eyes flashed with the first spark of real enthusiasm and Meg knew she was right even before the girl said, ‘Do you know my dad?’
Did she know Ruby’s dad? Not a jot.
Zach Jones had a daughter. A daughter whose mother was gone.
Hang on, he had a daughter with a mother Rylie hadn’t even known about and Rylie was such a proficient muckraker she probably already knew who really killed JFK and was awaiting the right moment to reveal all.
He had a daughter who was at home sick, or pretending to be. And the only reason Meg saw that Ruby might not want him to know was in case he only proved to her he didn’t give enough of a damn about her to care.
Meg’s fists clenched at her sides, a scene to end all scenes threatening to erupt from within.
She’d seen it time and again listening to stories told by countless women at the Valley Women’s Shelter—men, focused on themselves, on their work, on their local bar, who blithely disregarded their children’s need to be loved. Hell, she’d seen it with her own eyes. She’d felt it with her own heart.
Thankfully she’d taken measures in order for it never to happen to a child of her own. Conclusive measures. Unfortunately none of that helped her from feeling threadbare watching neglect happen to someone else.
Her gaze cleared to find Ruby was still looking up at her with her father’s uncompromising gaze. And while she knew the second she’d found out who Ruby’s dad was she should have walked away, she still said, ‘As a matter of fact I met your dad only this morning.’
‘What did he say about me?’
What did he say? Well, he was actually pretty darned arrogant. He said back off. He said lie low. He said…
Meg’s fingers unfurled from her palms. He’d said he was determined that the privacy of all staying at the resort remained upheld.
He was talking about himself. Him and his anonymous daughter. A daughter who no longer had a mum.
She closed her eyes to hide the mortification that she had beamed her flirty little smile at a man who’d lost his…wife? Lover? Ex? What did it matter? He’d lost the mother of his child.
Far too many adult-only concepts to share with a seven-and-a-half-year-old.
Instead, she gathered up her cheeriest smile and said, ‘I’m such a yabberer I’m sure I didn’t let him get a word in edgewise. If he’d had the chance I’m sure he would have said plenty. How could he not? A daughter who lets her nanny make chocolate muffins even though she doesn’t like them but her dad does. You’re a gem!’
Ruby tried for a smile herself, but her slight shoulders drooped, giving her away. Meg’s heart twitched far harder than she liked for the little girl. She couldn’t let herself get attached. There was no way it could end well.
She opened her mouth to say her long-overdue goodbye when something out of the corner of Ruby’s eye had her springing from the rubber seat like a jack-in-the-box. ‘I have to go!’ she shrieked.
Meg glanced up at one of the small detached rooms to see the wooden blinds snap shut. A flash of silver hair, not dark and curling, meant her heart didn’t stop, but it certainly thundered hard enough for her to know she’d pushed her luck far enough.
Ruby took a last quick step forward. ‘You won’t tell my dad I was on the swings, will you?’
Meg laughed. ‘Not a chance.’ Probably best for her continued health if she didn’t bring any of this up with the man at all.
‘I won’t tell him you were here either, okay?’ Ruby said.
Meg laughed again. ‘That would be fine with me.’
Ruby gave a quick, sweet, girlish wave, and then ran off towards the flickering blinds and freshly baked chocolate muffins, her long hair swinging behind her as she skipped up onto the longest rope bridge and was soon consumed by her astonishing home.
Meg spun on her heel and vamoosed back along the makeshift path, through the gap in the rock wall and out onto the manicured grass of the resort proper. She headed in a direction she thought was probably south. If it wasn’t, someone would put her to rights soon enough.
Her breaths shook as the adrenalin she’d held at bay finally spilled over.
What if when she’d smiled her flirty little smile Zach had smiled back? What if when she’d made him laugh she’d let herself join in? What if when he’d touched her he’d liked it too much to let her go? What if things had happened between them and she’d gone in deep before he’d decided to let her know that he had a little girl?
It had taken her nearly thirty years to get to the point where she finally felt as if she had a handle on her celebrity. There was no way she would knowingly expose a child to it.
It gave her the perfect excuse to wash her hands of the whole situation, get on with her holiday, and forget the lot of them even existed.
Damn him! He’d started this. By including her in his convoluted duplicity he’d made
