“Do you need to take it?”
“It’s Frank,” she said, referring to her father. She slid the phone unanswered into the back pocket of her jeans. “It’s fine.”
Damien stayed quiet, studying her. For most of her life, Nikki hadn’t known her father. And though there’d been some suspicion as to his motives when he’d stepped back into her life recently, he’d proven to be a genuinely good man.
A travel photographer, he’d been away during the kidnapping. And though she’d said nothing, Damien was certain it bothered Nikki that he hadn’t rushed home when he’d learned of their tragedy.
“Talk to me,” he said gently.
“It’s just—”
“Daddy!” Lara called. “Come here, Daddy! Come see!”
“Just a minute, sweetie!”
“It’s not important.”
“Yes,” he said. “I think it is.”
Her smile was thin. “Comparatively, it’s not. Your daughter needs her daddy now.” She tilted her head. “Go on. I’m fine.”
He went reluctantly, but his heart ached. Because he was afraid that Nikki needed her father, too. But that somehow she’d lost him all over again.
He tried not to worry as he went to Lara, then followed her around the back of the guest house where they’d seen a bunny a few days before. This time, however, there were no signs of rabbits, and he took the two disappointed little girls back to the playscape, assuring them that the bunnies were probably off somewhere. Maybe in their warren watching Puppies!
Lara rolled her eyes. “Bunnies don’t watch movies, Daddy.”
“Learn something new every day.” He kissed his daughter and looked for Nikki, but only found Bree on her patio.
“She said to tell you she went to the bungalow.”
“Is she calling Frank?”
Bree just shook her head. “Not sure.”
He considered giving her space, but that didn’t sit well. And after asking Bree to watch the girls, he headed down the path to the beachfront bungalow he’d built for her after she’d complained that the only flaw of the Malibu house was that it didn’t have easy access to the beach.
He found her in their bedroom standing in front of their newest art acquisition. Another Blaine original, in much the style of the portrait the artist had painted of Nikki.
Whereas that one was bright and vibrant, though, this painting had a sadder, more subdued feel. The color scheme was mostly blue, unlike the vibrant reds and sensual blacks and grays that dominated much of Blaine’s earlier work. In the painting, the woman was bound to a chair, and though her sex was hidden in shadows, her legs were spread wide, giving the painting a raw, edgy quality rather than a more sensual eroticism.
They’d found the painting in a gallery, and he’d touched her secretly as they looked at it. Teased her. She’d melted in his arms, and he’d bought the painting because he wanted that memory, always.
In deference to the children, it now lived in a shuttered frame, revealed only when the kids weren’t in the room.
“It’s so melancholy,” Nikki said as Damien came up behind her, sliding his hands around her waist much as he’d done that day in the Beverly Hills gallery. “I think he misses her.”
“Who?” he asked, assuming that the her was the woman in the portrait.
“Evelyn,” Nikki said. “Blaine’s paintings have become more melancholy. And even though I’m not sure they’ve officially broken up, I also don’t think they’re together anymore.”
“No,” Damien agreed. “I don’t either.”
“There was a pretty significant age difference between them. Blaine’s what? Mid-thirties. And Evelyn’s got twenty years on him?”
“About that,” Damien agreed.
Nikki nodded, still not turning around. “They were good together, but I never really saw them as long term. Maybe Blaine did, though. Maybe that’s why his new paintings are melancholy.”
“Perhaps. Or perhaps he’s just an artist working on his style. Either way, Evelyn deserves a partner. Someone who’s here for her. Blaine’s spending most of his time exhibiting in Asia these days.”
“I’d fantasized that maybe she’d get together with my dad.”
“They might,” Damien agreed. “I know they’ve been spending a lot of time together.”
She turned in his arms, pressing her face against his chest. “I called Evelyn. I don’t think—I don’t think it’s going to work out.”
He frowned, confused, then took a step back. He used his finger to tilt her chin up so that he could look in her eyes. “What’s going on?”
“He called her from Stockholm a few days ago. Long after I left the message telling him what happened. About Anne,” she added unnecessarily. “He told her why he hadn’t rushed right back.”
There was a harsh lilt to her voice, and he stiffened, fearing the worst.
“Why?”
“Because he was scared.” The words were full of disgust and disappointment. And heartache, too.
“Oh, baby.”
“Scared? He was scared? What kind of bullshit is that?” She drew in a breath. “That’s what Evelyn told him. I didn’t even get the chance. I guess he was too scared to call me and own up.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” Considering his own father, he’d been leery when Frank turned up. But the kind photographer had won him over. Now, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was a goddamn epidemic. God knows he hoped not. Neither Frank nor Jeremiah were the kind of father that Damien wanted to be.
“Evelyn was here for us,” Nikki said. “It was hard and it was horrible, but she was here, right in the thick of it. And she’s not even my mother. Or yours. But my real dad—a man who actually took the time to seek me out—he just couldn’t be bothered because he was scared. Like our life is a fucking Disney park and he only wanted to ride the carousel. Not leap onto the Tower of Terror.”
He held her by the shoulders, pushing her gently back so that he could see her face. “He screwed up, baby. I won’t argue. But it’s hard being a parent. And he’s pretty new to the job.”
“So are you. You haven’t screwed up.”
He wasn’t entirely certain that was true.
“And you would never bolt if one of your kids was in pain,” she added.
“No. I wouldn’t.”
“Yeah, well, he’s done it to me twice. First by leaving back when I was little. And now by staying away when I needed him.” A single tear trickled down her cheek. “He could have helped, Damien. But he didn’t even try.”
He sighed, wishing he had the words to make it better for her. “I won’t defend him. But I will say that you need to talk to him.”
Her eyes flashed. “Why the hell should I?”
“If I screwed up, would you tell Anne and Lara to turn their backs? To not talk to me?”
“You wouldn’t do—”
“Wouldn’t screw up? I hope you’re right, but it’s happened once or twice.”
That earned him a tiny smile.
“Just talk to him, baby. He’s not your mother. He’s trying. Or at least he was. Talk to him and find out why he stayed away. Was he uncomfortable? Unsure what to do or what to say? Afraid of making a misstep?”
She wiped her eyes, then studied his face. “You haven’t screwed up, you know. You’re an incredible father.”
He hadn’t even realized he was carrying that fear, but her words released it, tossing away the weight of his own doubts as if they were as negligible as cotton fluff.
“You’re amazing,” he said.
“That’s why we’re so good together,” she said. “Because I think the exact same thing about you.”
She turned and leaned against him, and he put his arm around her as they looked at the painting. “I’m glad we bought it,” he said. “And not just to memorialize one wicked afternoon in an art gallery.”
“You have other wicked memories of this painting?”
He chuckled. “Not this one
. But it occurs to me that the first time I kissed you we were surrounded by Blaine originals.”
“That’s true. You told me you were going to kiss me that night, and then you did. I’ve always been impressed by a man who keeps his word.”
“We were on a velvet bench, hidden in an alcove. And I’d been fantasizing about that kiss ever since I met a woman with a fascination for cheesecake at a pageant in Dallas.”
“And it only took six years,” she teased. “You don’t move very fast, do you, Mr. Stark?”
“Some things are worth waiting for.”
“Like that kiss?”
“It was magical,” he told her, then bent his head to hers and kissed her softly and sweetly. “It’s even better now.”
She sighed happily, and he was struck by the reality that she was truly his. Maybe there really was magic in the world.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.