Dr Daddy – Elizabeth Bevarly

“Who was who?” Now he cupped her cheek gently in his palm, threading his fingers into the hair above her ear. An odd electricity shot through her, leaving a trail of tingling heat in its wake. Involuntarily, she flinched and jerked away. Jonas didn’t follow her withdrawal, instead standing motionless with his hand still lifted into the air.

His fingers curled into a fist, however, as he asked, “Who was the son of a bitch who made you so wary? Who was the man who hurt you so badly that you shun even the most innocent touch?” When Zoey shook her head in mute refusal to answer, he turned to retrieve his drink from the end table, then sipped it in thoughtful silence as he continued to stare at her.

When still she refused to reply, he cradled the snifter in his palm and swirled the dark amber liquor slowly, watching it as if the swiftly moving contents of the glass were the most fascinating thing he’d ever observed. But she could tell he was nowhere near as nonchalant as he was letting on. After a moment, he said, “You told Juliana the other day that you know what it’s like to be a burden.

To be foisted off on someone who doesn’t want you. You said you know what it’s like to be resented. Does your reluctance to be civil to the entire male population all go back to that?” She shook her head. “No.” “Then what? Why won’t you even let me touch you?” Zoey sighed wearily, lifting a hand to her forehead to scoop back a fistful of her bangs.

He wouldn’t rest until he had her figured out, she thought. Which meant he wouldn’t be retiring anytime soon tonight. Jonas Tate was the last person on earth she wanted knowing about her past.

“It can’t be as bad as all that, Zoey.” Zoey Holland glanced up from the baby girl in her arms and nodded her head fiercely at the baby’s mother. When she did so, she felt a tug on her hair and realized the infant clutched a generous handful of the straight, fiery red tresses in her tiny fist. She gently tugged her hair free and tossed it over one shoulder. “Oh, it’s definitely as bad as all that, Sylvie,” she said adamantly.

“The guy’s a complete ogre, and he won’t be happy until he has my head on a spit and my butt in a sling. Ask Livy.” Sylvie Buchanan turned to her sister for verification, arching a quizzical blond brow in question. Olivia McGuane nodded in agreement with Zoey. “He really does seem to have it in for Zoey for some reason,” she said, trying to dodge her own toddler as she zigzagged across Sylvie’s expansive, ultramodern kitchen. The trio were meeting for their monthly Sunday brunch, at Sylvie’s house for the first time since she had brought Genevieve home from the hospital three months ago.

“Be careful, Simon,” she admonished her twenty-two-month-old as he flew by. “And watch out for the plants. Auntie Sylvie and Uncle Chase aren’t nearly as untidy as Mommy and Daddy are. They won’t be as understanding if you make a mess.” Sylvie emitted a sound of disbelief. “You mean Uncle Chase isn’t as untidy. He still hasn’t gotten over how messy everything seems to become once babies arrive—including the babies themselves—and he’s still convinced there’s some way to keep this house clean every minute of the day.

Of course, just because I married the guy doesn’t mean I’ve mended my ways, either. Gennie and I are both driving him crazy.” She leaned over Zoey’s shoulder and chucked Genevieve under the chin. “Aren’t we, sweetheart?” The baby gurgled and ducked her head in response to the tickle, reminding Zoey of a turtle. “Looks like she’s going to have Chase’s green eyes and your blond hair,” she said of the infant.

“Nice combination.” “Yeah, how come Gennie got hair right away and it took Simon more than a year?” Livy demanded. All three women looked over at the dark-haired little boy who squatted in front of the air vent in that odd, flat-footed way of children, peering intently into it. The air rushing out tousled the thick, dark curls he’d inherited from his mother.

“That’s just the way babies are,” Sylvie said. “Besides, once his hair started coming in, it took off like a bunch of weeds. You’ve got no cause to complain.”

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

Book Information

• Unique ID: 9a366557405c8b18
• File Extension: .pdf
• File Size: 1,010,881 bytes (0.964 MB)
• Title: –
• Author: Unknown
• Pages: 166
• Language: English (en)

Reading & Word Statistics

• Estimated Reading Time: 293.64 minutes
• Total Words: 58,729
• Total Characters: 324,294
• Average Words per Page: 353.79
• Average Characters per Page: 1953.58

Most Frequent Words

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