I felt an urge to shield her from that.
But I shouldn’t have touched her. For a few seconds I’d forgotten myself and given in to the desire I had to feel her—just my leg against hers. The call from Gillian was a stark reminder of why such behavior was foolish. I wasn’t going down that path again.
The cab came to a halt outside the house. I settled the fare and took my keys from my pocket.
I could hear the sounds of strangled cats before I’d even opened the front door. I stood in the hallway, trying to make out what they were singing about. Oh yes, even I’d heard the dulcet tones of Dolly Parton, belting out “9 to 5.” I just hadn’t heard it overlaid by the two worst singers in history.
I opened the door to the main family area. “Good afternoon,” I said, a little taken aback by the scene in front of me. Autumn’s long dark hair was divided into various bobbles and clips and bows, and her face was blobbed with color. Was that paint?
“Daddy!” Bethany screamed as she ran toward me and jumped into my arms.
My daughter’s face looked like she was also in training for clown school, although her hair seemed to have fared better than Autumn’s.
“What’s going on in here?” I asked, needing an explanation for why my daughter looked like she was starring in a Steven King film.
Thankfully, Autumn turned off the music before I had to ask.
“We’re playing makeup parlor, Daddy. Do I look pretty?”
Bethany was the only person in my life I lied to. “You look gorgeous.” Somewhere underneath all that color.
“And Autumn looks pretty, doesn’t she?” Bethany pointed at her nanny, clearly wanting me to agree with her.
The fact was, it was easy to see past the smeared lipstick, comically red cheeks and lopsided hair that made her look like she’d had a fight with a puppy. There was no doubt Autumn was more than pretty.
“You like my eye shadow?” Autumn asked, grinning at me. “Bethany’s a natural, isn’t she?”
“You both look pretty. Very . . . colorful.”
Autumn laughed and took Bethany’s hand from around my neck and wiped it of something gloopy. I wasn’t sure whether or not it was perfume, but Autumn’s scent reminded me of sunshine. Of spring blossom and roses. She winced and dabbed my shirt collar. “I think she got you,” she said, pressing her fingertips into my neck. “Sorry.”
“It’s not a problem.” It had been a long time since a woman had touched me that way. Our eyes locked. We were just a few centimeters apart, so close I could feel her body heat, feel myself wrapped in her scent. For just a moment, those promises I’d made to myself years ago and reminded myself of just a few minutes ago in the cab disintegrated. I wanted her.
Autumn looked away first.
“You think your Daddy would like a makeover?” Autumn asked.
Bethany’s eyes went wide. “Yes!” Before I had a chance to object, she’d slid out of my arms and was pulling my hand, trying to guide me to the sofa. “You sit here, Daddy. You need lipstick.”
“No, Bethany. You’re not putting makeup on me.” I shrugged out of my jacket and loosened my tie. I needed to breathe. “Men don’t wear makeup.”
“Not true,” Autumn said, shooting me a smug smile. She knew she was setting me up. “And I think it should be encouraged. If women have to go through all this, I don’t see why all men shouldn’t make more of an effort.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?” I asked Autumn as she began to gather and tidy.
“I’m on the side of developing Bethany’s motor skills. I’m surprised you’re not encouraging her to develop in all areas.”
I sighed and took a seat on the sofa. I’d won my battle with Mike this afternoon. I suppose it was only fair I lost this one. “Okay. Maybe a little lipstick won’t hurt.”
“You’ll feel like a million dollars when Miss Bethany’s through with you,” Autumn said. “It will relax you. You might even start singing along and enjoying show tunes with us.”
“Speaking of,” I said, reaching for my jacket. “I got you two these for next week.”
I handed a ticket to each of them.
“What is it, Daddy?” Bethany asked, looking at the ticket.
“Are you serious?” Autumn asked, a grin the size of Ireland stretching across her face. “Really? You bought this for me? For us?”
Anyone would have thought I’d just bought her a small private island. “It’s just theatre tickets.”
She held her hand up in a stop gesture. “These are not just theatre tickets,” she said. “Bethany, we get to go to a musical sing-along. Have you ever heard of anything so wonderful?” She sighed and collapsed onto the velvet footstool as if her legs had given out. “This show came to Portland once but we—” She stared at the ticket, shaking her head. “I can’t believe I finally get to go.” She fell into silence as she held the ticket in her hand as if it were made of gold. Finally, she glanced up at me. “No one except Hollie has ever done anything so nice for me.”