Sacrifice(44)

“Finish your coffee, sweetheart.” His voice was a smooth, sexy rumble as the front of his jeans began to fill out demandingly.

She was poised to rise to her feet and attack him when the doorbell chimed, forestalling the sexual intent building like wildfire in her mind.

She rose instead as Jared held his hand out to her in invitation to follow him. Their home. He took every opportunity to prove to her that the house he so cherished was their home. Not just his, but hers as well.

“Expecting someone?” Her ever-present smile deepened as his arm curled around her back.

“Not hardly,” he grunted as they reached the wide oak panel. “Let’s get rid of them fast though.”

Laughter welled in her throat as he gripped the doorknob and opened it wide.

Shock held her immobile.

“Hello, Kimberly.” Daniel Madison stood on the threshold, a gaily wrapped box clutched in his white-knuckled hands as he stared back at her coolly.

She stiffened, blinking in disbelief.

“Senator Madison.” Jared’s icy greeting was less than hospitable. “What do you want?”

He appeared to flinch at the rough tone of Jared’s voice, but his gaze never left hers.

“I would like a moment to speak with you,” he said austerely. “I promise not to take much of your time.”

“You’ve said enough…” Jared started to growl.

“No.” Kimberly pressed her hand to his chest, her gaze never leaving her father’s. “I’ll talk to him, Jared. This can’t hurt me now. I promise you.”

She felt his denial of her facing the parent who had attempted to control her for so many years.

“Come into the living room,” she invited him warily. “It’s a bit messy right now. We haven’t gotten around to putting all my stuff away yet.”

They had cleaned out her small house the week before, but boxes still littered the living room, packed with a lifetime of memories that she couldn’t bear to part with.

Her father nodded, his gaze flickering for a moment, appearing bleak and pain-filled before he glanced away from her.

She led him into the living room, standing uncomfortably as he stepped past several boxes, still clutching the bright pink and yellow box in his arm. Suddenly, he stopped, his gaze caught by the contents of childish mementos that she had kept over the years.

Hesitantly it seemed, he reached into it and pulled free a ragged little book. Sleeping Beauty. It had always been her favorite book.

He blinked rapidly as he cleared his throat.

“I used to read this to you,” he said faintly. “When you were just a tiny thing. Every night before bedtime, you wanted me to read it to you.”

Kimberly watched him curiously. “I don’t remember that,” she said as she thought back, trying to move past the memories of his rage with her mother to the years before the fights.

He flinched as though she had struck him and carefully laid the book back in its place.

“You were very small,” he said. “Too young to remember perhaps. Here…” He handed her the box he carried. “I have a gift for you. Your birthday arrives soon and I saw this…” He shrugged, as though uncomfortable.

Confused, Kimberly took the box. This wasn’t the father she remembered.

“I apologize for the wrapping.” He cleared his throat again. “I don’t know where my secretary was yesterday. I had to wrap it myself.”

She could tell. The paper was uneven, clumsily taped, but for a moment Kimberly had to battle back a sob at the knowledge he had wrapped it himself. He hadn’t done that since she was five. And she did remember that. The uneven, clumsily wrapped box he brought her and her mother’s derision.

You didn’t even care enough to have it wrapped properly,her mother had charged, furious. It’s as clumsy as you are, Daniel.

Her fingers smoothed over the crookedly tied bow as she blinked back tears. Carefully, she untied it, laying the ribbon aside before easing open the paper in the same manner. She would save it. Just as she had saved the ballerina paper he had used so long ago.

Finally, she opened the long box and simply stared down at the contents in amazement.

“It was nothing really,” he almost snarled. “I saw it in the shop window. The doll’s face reminded me of you.”

Reminded him of her? She looked at the little tag on the long white satin wedding gown. It was a Remee, a designer original, and the face resembled her because it was her face. She had long admired the maker’s porcelain dolls but had never been able to justify the outrageous price to own one.

Long red-gold curls fell down the doll’s shoulders and back beneath a lace and gauze veil. Tiny seed pearls, satin and lace, graced the stunningly white wedding gown, and precious satin slippers covered the porcelain feet.