Page 34 of Baby It's Cold Outside

“Why?” she asked, feeling the pinch around her heart at the thought that he might still have feelings for Christine.

“To be fair to Bill—” He hesitated. “—which I hate to do, because Bill is one of those smart-ass guys who annoy me on principle.” He took a breath as if preparing to say something difficult. “Truth is, I’m jealous of him.”

“Oh?” Kate asked, trying not to get derailed by the pinch that had turned to a punch in her solar plexus. “Jealous of him having Christine?”

“Huh?” Ryder sent her a blank look then frowned. “Hell no, they’re made for each other. I’m jealous of all the time Bill gets to spend with Gully.”

And just like that, the punch turned to something a lot more disturbing.

“He’s there for her 24-7,” he added. “And even though I get her on holidays and some weekends, I’m not there for all the day-to-day stuff. Every time I miss something, like her first step, or the day she lost her first tooth, that’s it. It’s gone. It happened, and I can’t get it back or be there for her. Pretty soon she’ll be dating.” He shuddered theatrically. “Although I’m hoping that won’t be for at least another thirty years.” He let his shoulders drop. “But when it does, he’ll be right there, and I won’t. And I can’t stand it.”

“So Gully never comes to you for advice? Or support?” Kate asked, so touched by his dedication to his daughter she could feel tears stinging her eyes. If only everyone got to have a father like him, the world would be a much happier place.

He looked a little confused at the question. “Yeah, of course she does. We talk a lot, when she’s with me. And I e-mail, when I’m on assignment. Make sure I call, and that she always knows where she can contact me. But it’s not the same.”

“How is it different? You’re there for her if she needs you. And she knows that. That’s what being a good parent’s all about.”

“Well, I…”

“And didn’t you ever consider that one of the reasons Bill might be a smart-ass is because he’s jealous of you, too?”

“Why would he be jealous of me?” he asked, thoroughly confused now.

“Because I bet you’re Cool Dad. You get to do all the fun stuff, have lots of quality time with her, and he’s just Everyday Dad—the one who has to make her do her homework and brush her teeth.”

His smile was slow and rueful. “You’re one of those freaky smart people, too, aren’t you?” He folded his arms around her waist and tumbled her into the cascade of pillows. “Thanks,” he said, the tip of his finger drawing circles on her arm in an absent caress as she nestled into his embrace. “Bill and his smug smile have been bugging me for six years. But now that I know he’s only Everyday Dad…”

She cuddled close, resting her palm on his belly and letting her fingers drift over the lean strength of his abdomen, glad she had been able to help. “You shouldn’t feel insecure about your relationship with Gully. You’re a good father. I can tell.”

“Not that my ego needs constant stroking or anything,” he said with that charming air of self-deprecation, “but how can you tell?”

“Because it’s clear you value the relationship, and you want to get it right.” She sighed. “You put her feelings, her needs first, whenever you can. That’s special.”

And what made it all the more special was that his own father had done the opposite to him.

He lifted up on his elbow, trailed his finger down her cheek. “So what’s your old man like? Not as much of a jerk as mine, I hope.”

The tears stung a bit again, so she blinked. “I have no idea.”

“You never met him?”

She gripped his finger and kissed the tip, touched by his indignation, even if it wasn’t necessary. “I’m pretty sure my mum didn’t know who he was. She was a rock groupie, a free-love advocate long after it was fashionable, and every time I asked her who my dad was, she’d have a different answer.”

“Bummer.”

“You don’t know the half of it. She even told me once that Mick Jagger might be my father.”

He chuckled. “Isn’t he old enough to be your granddad?”

She laughed, too, the unhappiness not as painful as it had once been. “It gets worse. At the time, I didn’t know who Mick Jagger was. I was only ten. So I made the mistake of mentioning it to one of my friends. She told her mother. One thing led to another, and I ended up getting a detention from the headmistress for telling lies.”

He cradled her cheek, brushed his thumb across her lip. “Your headmistress must have been blind. Couldn’t she see you’ve definitely got Mick’s lips?”

“Oh, please!” She laughed—but something that had always been a dull ache around her heart didn’t ache as much tonight.

He kissed her, chuckling with her as he fell back on the bed. She took his hand, the feeling of connection so intense it scared her a little. “The point is, even though I didn’t have a dad, I used to spend hours fantasizing about him, and if he had been anything like you, I would have been chuffed to bits.”

“Chuffed, huh?” he said, obviously enjoying the word. He lifted their joined hands to his mouth, kissed the back of hers. Then rolled over and snuck his hand under the sheet. “That’s real sweet of you, Katherine. But given the extremely hot sex we just had, I’m thinking it’s also a bit kinky.”

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