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“More.” Jaye turned her face away and stared out the bus window. They were passing through a particularly lovely section of northwest D.C. Rock Creek Park was immediately to the west, and large colonial and Tudor-style houses lined the street, their lawns losing the dullness of winter and starting to turn a richer shade of green. Abby doubted Jaye saw any of it. “Mom and I lived in Tennessee.”
Physical distance, in Abby’s opinion, was no reason to keep emotionally distant from a child. Especially when it was your own. But she was jumping to conclusions without all the facts. She didn’t know for certain that Connor Smith hadn’t kept in touch with his daughter.
“It must have been tough living so far away from your father,” she said, leading into her question as tactfully as she could. “It’s a good thing for telephones.”
“He never called me,” Jaye muttered, her face still turned to the window.
Abby’s estimation of Connor plummeted, but then she reminded herself that he was trying to do right by Jaye now. Whatever his sins of the past, he had an opportunity to atone for them.
“He’s here now, Jaye.” She tried to dredge up something encouraging to say. “He probably wants to make up for lost time.”
Jaye’s head shook violently back and forth. Her shoulders trembled, as though she were fighting tears.
Abby laid a hand on her arm, unsure of what she’d said wrong. “What is it, honey?”
Jaye looked at her then, her eyes wet with unshed tears. “My dad doesn’t want to make up for lost time. He doesn’t want me at all.”
Emotion clogged Abby’s throat, making it tough to speak. She’d run out of words anyway, not that anything she’d said so far had made Jaye feel the slightest bit better.
The cheerful chatter of the children behind them contrasted vividly with the despair on Jaye’s face. Abby stroked the girl’s arm as resentment built inside her toward Connor Smith.
She knew his type all too well.
Her father hadn’t wanted her, either.
CHAPTER THREE
WHEN CONNOR SMITH MADE UP his mind to do something, he followed through. The practice had served him well both in business and in his personal life.
As he’d listened to the symphony perform in the gilded Concert Hall, somewhere between the bull-fighter theme from Bizet’s Carmen and the finale from Rossini’s William Tell Overture, he’d set his mind on getting to know Abby Reed better.
His venue of choice would have been a quiet dinner for two at his town house, but with the addition of a nine-year-old, his home was no longer so private.
When he’d caught Abby peeking looks at him during the concert, he thought that accomplishing his mission wouldn’t be difficult. But something imperceptible had changed since the concert’s end, because the looks she’d stolen on the bus seemed more like glares.
The bus had arrived at Blue Moon Elementary five minutes ago. An hour remained in the school day, so Abby had already sent the protesting students back to their classes. Connor had called a goodbye to Jaye, but she’d given him her back. Neither of them, it seemed, looked forward to the punishment he’d mete out tonight.
He waited for the ex-military chaperone to finish telling Abby how much she’d enjoyed the field trip before he approached Abby, who was heading for the brightly colored main hall of the school. “Miss Reed, can I talk to you for a minute?”
He thought she might ignore him and keep on walking, but then she turned. It was a windy day, and her short dark hair had gotten slightly tousled in the brief walk from the bus to the school. The appealing disarray should have made her seem more approachable, but he read reluctance in her stance. “What is it, Mr. Smith?”
It had been a long time since he’d been so nervous at the prospect of asking out a woman. He cleared his throat, thinking it best if he eased into the subject. “You were right about letting Jaye stay to hear the concert. I could tell she was enraptured.”
He sensed some of the tension leaving her body and imagined she looked a fraction more relaxed.
“She was. You should look into getting her private lessons.” Her gaze sharpened. “You do let her practice, don’t you?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
She hesitated, then said, “No reason. As I was saying, extra lessons would help her. There’s only so much I can teach her when she’s part of a group. If you’re interested, I have a sheet with names and phone numbers of private teachers that I’ll send home with her.”
“That’d be great.”
“Fine.” She seemed to think the conversation was over and started to turn away.
“But that wasn’t what I wanted to talk to you about.”
She regarded him so coolly, it felt as if the temperature in the elementary school had dropped. Now was probably not the optimum time for what he had in mind, but he wasn’t sure when he’d get another chance.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
One of the inspirational quotes J.D. used to spout during football season sprang to mind. The kid had a ton of them, all meant to motivate himself to become the best athlete he could be. They’d worked, too. J. D. Smith had been well on the road to athletic glory before that son of a bitch had robbed him of his life. Biting back the familiar rush of anger, Connor thrust his brother from his mind and concentrated on the saying.
“I’ll get straight to the point. Would you have dinner with me this weekend?”
If he’d asked if she’d cut off her right arm and give it to him, she couldn’t have looked more appalled. “No.”
He rocked back on his heels, surprised at the firmness of her response. He’d been refused before, but never so baldly. But maybe he’d made a mistake. Once again he checked her left ring finger. Yes, it was still bare.
“Are you involved with someone else?” he asked.
“No. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to my classroom.”
She took two steps before Connor recovered enough to find his voice. “Wait.”
Reluctance written plainly on her face, she turned back to him. “What’s the matter, Mr. Smith, aren’t you used to being turned down?”
“It’s not that. It’s the way you did it.” He scratched his chin. “You could have softened the blow, said something about how it’s against your policy to date relatives of students.”
“I don’t have a dating policy,” she said. “But if it bothers you that much, let me rephrase my answer. Thank you for the invitation, but no thank you.”
He frowned. “If I’ve done something to offend you, I’d sure like to know what it was.”
“You mean besides not signing the permission slip until I came to your office and then showing up late for the bus?”
He was about to point out that technically he hadn’t been late, but they’d already covered that ground. “Besides that.”
Her chest rose, then fell. Clearly she wanted to be rid of him. “Jaye’s told me some things.”
“What things?” he pressed.
“I know you hadn’t seen her in years until recently.”
“That’s right,” he said slowly, wondering where she was going with this.
“And I know you felt like you had to take her in.”
“That’s right, too,” he said. “The alternative was foster care, and I couldn’t let that happen.”
“Am I supposed to give you points for that?”
He cocked his head. “What do you mean?”
“It was your responsibility to take her in after her mother died. You—”
“Hold on a minute,” he interrupted, trying to make sense of her tirade. “Jaye’s mother isn’t dead.”
“But Jaye said…” Abby’s voice trailed off, and her brow knotted before understanding dawned on her face. “I take it her mother never had cancer, either?”
“No cancer, as far as I know. But then I don’t know a lot about the situation. She and Jaye showed up at my place one night a month or so ago. The next morning, Diana was gone.”
“She just left Jaye without a word?”
“Without a word to Jaye. She left a note for me, saying she needed time to work things out and get her head on straight.”
Abby shook her own head. She clearly didn’t understand what would drive a mother to abandon her child, but neither did Connor. “No wonder Jaye’s having such a tough time.”
“Yeah, tell me about it. I’m doing the best I can, but it doesn’t seem to be enough.”
“Am I supposed to be impressed that you’re now doing what you should have been doing all along?” Her voice held an edge.
“I’m not trying to impress anybody.” He felt as though he were defending himself, but he wasn’t sure for what. “Jaye’s family. It’s my responsibility to help her out.”
“It was your responsibility to work harder at keeping in contact with her,” she snapped.
He cocked his head, wondering at the cause of the unfriendly glint in her eyes. “Do you have a problem with me?”
“Yes, I do,” she retorted. “Don’t you think Jaye knows that you don’t really want her? That’s a hard thing for any daughter to swallow about her father.”
Connor gaped at her as her resentment toward him finally made sense.
“Jaye’s not my daughter,” he said. “She’s my niece.”
ABBY WAS SURE SHE’D BEEN struck speechless before, but couldn’t remember when.
She stared at Connor, suddenly viewing him in a brand-new light. He wasn’t a deadbeat dad. He was a bachelor uncle who’d taken in a young girl who had nowhere else to go.
“If you’re not her father,” she said slowly, “where is he?”
“Diana—that’s my sister—doesn’t know who Jaye’s father is. She had Jaye when she was seventeen. Rumor was that most of the boys in town had Diana before that.”
He related his sister’s history in a flat voice Abby suspected hid a wealth of emotion.
“After she got pregnant, Diana went to stay with our great-aunt near Roanoke. She lived there until Aunt Aggie died about five years ago. Then she just took off with Jaye. She’d call from time to time to say she was okay but we didn’t know where they were until last month.”
“When they showed up on your doorstep,” Abby finished.
He nodded mutely.
“But why leave Jaye with you? Why not leave her with your mother?” Something occurred to her. “Your mother is alive, isn’t she?”
“Very much alive,” Connor assured her, “but she and Diana, they clash. I guess Diana thought I was the best choice.”
The next time Abby was alone with Jaye, she’d take her to task for the outrageous lies she’d told about her uncle and mother. But tattling on the girl now would be like heaping kindling onto a fire. Jaye was already in enough trouble with Connor for her behavior on the bus.
Abby bit down on her lower lip. She’d been so off the mark that she was tempted to find the nearest desk so she could crawl under it. But that wasn’t the way she lived her life. She owned up to her mistakes.
“I owe you an apology,” she said and gulped. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things to you.”
He nodded, keeping his eyes on her face. “I know of a way you can make it up to me.”
She felt her heart slamming against her chest wall. He couldn’t possibly mean to renew his dinner invitation, could he? Not after she’d unfairly accused him of neglecting a daughter he didn’t even have?
“You can give Jaye private lessons,” he said. “You are one of the teachers on the list, right?”
Disappointment shot through her that he hadn’t asked her out again, followed by annoyance at herself. High-powered stockbrokers who worked long hours weren’t her type, even if they did take responsibility for their nieces.
“Yes,” she said. “I’m on the list.”
“Great,” he said. “How does Saturday morning sound?”
“Just in case my neighbors want to sleep in on weekends, I don’t teach on Saturday mornings. I don’t take students late on weeknights, either. I live in a duplex converted into apartments. I’ve managed to schedule all my students Monday through Thursday before six o’clock.”
He grimaced. “I couldn’t get Jaye to you until six at the earliest.”
She did some quick mental calculations. Most of her neighbors didn’t arrive home from work until after seven. In the two years she’d taught private lessons and practiced her own music, they’d yet to complain that they could hear her through their shared walls. “I can work with that.”
“Then we have a deal. When you send home that list, write down whatever night fits into your schedule.”
“Okay,” she said.
He nodded in agreement. It appeared as though he might say something else, but then he turned and walked away. She stared after him, rationalizing away the lingering disappointment.
She’d treated him unfairly so it was only logical for her to make amends. She’d done that by agreeing to adjust her teaching schedule in order to give Jaye private lessons.
Wishing he’d given her a second chance to accept a dinner date that would probably have turned out badly did absolutely no good. No good at all.
ABBY WATCHED THE MINUTE HAND on the clock in her living room tick by until it reached six-thirty, a half hour past when Connor was supposed to have arrived with Jaye for her first private lesson.
She picked up her own violin and played a few notes before becoming distracted. Had Jaye and her uncle forgotten? That seemed unlikely considering the talk Abby had with Jaye after strings class that afternoon. Abby had made it clear that she wouldn’t stand being lied to, nor would she keep any future misbehavior from Connor. Jaye had nodded mutely, then asked Abby not to change her mind about giving the private lessons. So then where were they?
Abby’s duplex apartment in Wheaton, a less attractive but more affordable area than Silver Spring, was about five miles and fifteen minutes north of the elementary school on a good day. Had Connor and Jaye gotten caught in unexpectedly heavy rush-hour traffic? If so, why hadn’t they called? And why was she so anxious at the prospect of seeing Connor again that she kept checking the front window every five minutes?
She parted the mini blinds, spotted the silver Porsche in front of her duplex and jumped back so they wouldn’t see her peering out at them. When the doorbell rang, she made herself wait a good ten seconds before pulling open the door.
Jaye stood on the stoop in front of Connor, her lower lip trembling and her face streaked with tears. Forgetting her anxiety at seeing Connor, Abby quickly ushered the nine-year-old inside. “Jaye, honey, what’s wrong?”
Jaye dipped her blond head, her thin shoulders shaking. Abby’s eyes raised to Connor. He was dressed in an expensive tailored suit, the same way he’d been the other times she’d seen him, but the similarities ended there.
