Second Chance Dad Read online

  Table of Contents

  Cover Page

  Excerpt

  Dear Reader

  Title Page

  Books by Angela Benson

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Epilogue

  Copyright

  “I was pregnant with your son, not Charles’s.”

  Dillon shook his head to clear his mind and his ears. “My son?”

  Monique nodded and nervously ran her hand through her hair. He wondered if it was as soft as he remembered. Stupid thought, given what she’d just told him, but a much easier thought to entertain than the news that she’d given his son to another man. He looked at this woman he’d loved with all his heart and wondered if he’d ever really known her. “Why should I believe you?”

  “Why should I lie?”

  “Why did you lie?” he returned….

  Dear Reader,

  The holiday season has arrived—and we have some dazzling titles for the month of December!

  This month, the always-delightful Joan Elliott Pickart brings you our THAT’S MY BABY! title. Texas Baby is the final book in her FAMILY MEN cross-line series with Desire, and spins the heartwarming tale of a fortysomething heroine who rediscovers the joy of motherhood when she adopts a precious baby girl. Except the dashing man of her dreams has no intention of playing daddy again….

  And baby fever doesn’t stop there. Don’t miss The Littlest Angel by Sherryl Woods, an emotional reunion romance—and the first of her AND BABY MAKES THREE: THE NEXT GENERATION miniseries. Passion flares between a disgruntled cowboy and a tough lady cop in The Cop and the Cradle by Suzannah Davis—book two in the SWITCHED AT BIRTH miniseries.

  For those of you who revel in holiday miracles, be sure to check out Christmas Magic by Andrea Edwards. This humorous romance features a cat-toting heroine who transforms a former Mr. Scrooge into a true believer—and captures his heart in the process.

  Also this month, The Millionaire’s Baby by Phyllis Halldorson is an absorbing amnesia story that’s filled with love, turmoil and a possible second chance at happiness. Finally, long-buried feelings resurface when a heroine returns to unite her former lover with the son he’d never known in Second Chance Dad by Angela Benson.

  All of us here at Silhouette wish you a joyous holiday season!

  Sincerely,

  Tara Gavin,

  Senior Editor

  Please address questions and book requests to:

  Silhouette Reader Service

  U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

  Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

  Second Chance Dad

  Angela Benson

  Books by Angela Benson

  Silhouette Special Edition

  A Family Wedding #1085

  Second Chance Dad #1146

  ANGELA BENSON

  sold her first book in 1993, and it was a dream come true. Since then, she has continued to dream. And with the publication of Second Chance Dad, her eighth book and her second category title, she’s still seeing those dreams come true.

  A graduate of Spellman College and Georgia Tech in Atlanta, Angela is a former engineer who now writes full time while she pursues a doctoral degree. She was born and raised in Alabama and currently divides her time between her home in the Atlanta suburbs and her home-away-from-home in the college town of Athens, Georgia. When she’s not weaving her own tales of romance, Angela can be found curled up on her couch reading her favorite romance authors.

  To receive Angela’s newsletter, “Angela’s Corner,” write to her at P.O. Box 3660571, Decatur, GA 30036.

  Chapter One

  Monique stood on the cracked concrete sidewalk in front of the faded brick two-story building. Its massive white columns and imposing cement steps loomed before her petite, five-foot-four-inch frame, making her feel as small and as insignificant as she’d felt ten years ago. Good ol’ Elberton High School, she thought, shaking her head. It still looks the same after all these years.

  Her heart picked up a rhythm from the past and her lips curved in a smile as heavily hooded dark eyes and a contrasting wide, white-tooth smile set in a caramel-colored masculine face flashed in her mind. Dillon Bell. The first man she’d ever loved.

  Her smile faltered as another image of that same face replaced the first one. The eyes in this face were wide and brimmed with tears that she’d never before seen there. The smile was absent, replaced by a grimace, and the tightness to his features told her he was in pain.

  She reached in the pocket of her white walking shorts for a tissue, then wiped at the tears that filled her own eyes. She knew she couldn’t change the past, couldn’t take back the awful words she’d spoken, but she could try to make amends. She could make right the biggest wrong she’d ever committed.

  She stuffed the tissue back in her pocket and, in an attempt to shake off the negative spirit that wanted to settle around her, took confident steps toward the entrance of the school. As she climbed the last step, the steel doors opened.

  “Come on, Calvin.”

  Her skin tingled at the sound of the rich, baritone voice that had often whispered words of love and family in her teenage ears.

  “Okay, Daddy,” a small voice answered.

  His son, she knew. His other son. Monique held her breath and waited for Dillon and his son to exit the building, refusing to give in to the fear that told her to run, to wait for a better time to see him again.

  “Ready to go?” she heard Dillon ask.

  No answer came, but a young boy dressed in white sneakers and socks, a blue golf shirt and khaki shorts, stepped outside. The youngster, whom she guessed to be about four, saw her and stared, obviously surprised by her presence.

  Dillon backed into his son as he was locking the door, causing the boy to turn away from her for a brief second and giving her a private moment to compose herself. The boy looked so much like Glenn had at that age. They could be…

  “There’s a lady out here, Daddy,” came the child’s voice, which stopped her thoughts. “She’s pretty.” He turned back around and smiled at her, his surprise at seeing her replaced with what she thought was acceptance.

  “A pretty lady, huh?” Dillon repeated, giving the door handle a final shake to assure that it was secured. He turned around and opened his mouth to speak, but before he could form his words, his dark brown eyes met hers. She knew he’d been transported ten years back in time just as she had been. She saw warmth spread across his face at the memories, and then she saw that warmth quickly replaced by caution. She swallowed her hurt, telling herself that his response was no less than she expected. No less than she deserved.

  “Hi, Dillon,” she said, praying her voice didn’t falter, praying he didn’t still hate her.

  “Hi” was all he said, but the words he didn’t say rang in her ears and kept her eyes glued to his.

  She watched him and he watched her as the silence between them stretched as if to envelop the distance between them. Her first thought was that he and his son were dressed in matching outfits. Her second thought was that he’d gotten more attractive. His shoulders were wider and his chest more defined. He was now the man i
n body that he’d always been in soul. Her glance slid to his hands. Large, vanilla-wafer-shaded brown hands. Hands that had comforted her, teased her and loved her. It hit her suddenly how much she missed those hands.

  Monique took a deep breath and let her gaze travel back to his strong, but now-shuttered face. Their eyes met and held, but neither spoke.

  “Hi.” The boy’s voice sounded, interrupting the safety of the silence. “I’m Calvin. What’s your name?”

  Monique dragged her glance from Dillon’s dark eyes to the identical ones in Calvin’s face. “I’m Monique Morgan,” she said, bending down and extending her hand to the tot. “I went to school with your dad.” She glanced up at Dillon and gave him a slight smile, before looking back down at the little boy. “A very long time ago.”

  “Do you know my mama?”

  Monique shook her head, but before she could speak, Dillon’s voice filled the air.

  “No, your mother and I went to college together. Monique and I went to high school together right here at Elberton High.”

  Calvin turned to Monique, his eyes wide. “You did?” He scrunched up his nose. “How old are you?”

  The sincerity of the question made Monique and Dillon laugh. It was a good laugh, too. When it ended, some of the tension between them was gone.

  Dillon rubbed his hand across his son’s head. “Never ask a lady her age, son. They don’t like that.”

  “Why?”

  Monique anticipated the question before Calvin asked it. Glenn still asked his share of “why” questions. “Because women don’t like to tell their ages, that’s why,” she said.

  The boy shook his head, clearly not understanding women. “I’m four,” he said, lifting four stubby fingers on his right hand as if offering to swap information with her.

  Monique tweaked his flat nose. “I’m still not telling.”

  The boy laughed and the sound made her insides curl up and relax. She looked up and saw Dillon observing his son with a pleased, but surprised expression on his face. “He’s a wonderful boy, Dillon. So much like you.”

  Dillon nodded, then dropped an arm around his son’s shoulders in a loving and protective gesture. “Thank you, I think,” he said with a lift of his brow. “Listen, we’re going for ice cream. Would you like to go with us?”

  Dillon mentally chastised himself as the threesome strolled to the ice-cream shop. He’d wanted to recall his invitation as soon as it had passed his lips. He didn’t want ice cream with Monique now or ever. From the moment he learned she was returning to Elberton to work at the high school where he was vice principal, he’d gone over several scenarios for handling their first meeting. None of them included inviting her for ice cream.

  He cut his glance to his left and saw that her lips were curved in a smile as she listened intently to Calvin telling her about his outing today. She nodded her head in a way that was familiar to him. It was a parent’s nod that said she shared the boy’s excitement even though she didn’t quite understand what he was talking about.

  “Daddy says I can go to the high school when I’m bigger,” Calvin informed Monique with pride. He turned his head toward Dillon, who’d shortened his stride so that his son could keep pace during the short walk from the high school to the ice-cream shop. “You said that, didn’t you, Daddy?”

  Dillon smiled the joy that he felt. His son’s happiness was most important to him. And today Calvin was happy. His animated voice made that clear. “Sure did, sport.”

  Calvin turned back to Monique. “Told you,” he said. Then with an ease and trust that only a child could muster, he slipped one of his small hands into one of Monique’s.

  Dillon checked her face for her response to his son’s familiarity, and the wide, open smile he saw there tugged at the closed door of his heart. “I believe you,” she said to Calvin. “The way you’re growing, you’ll be a big boy in no time at all.”

  Calvin beamed. Dillon could think of no other word to describe the joy expressed on his son’s often-somber face. He glanced again at the smiling Monique and the door to his heart gave a little.

  While his son continued his recitation to Monique, Dillon directed his attention to topics that Calvin wouldn’t be thinking about for years. Facing straight ahead, he used his peripheral vision to explore the womanly body he’d once known so well. The years had only brought good changes in Monique. Her chinlength hair was no longer curly, but straight, and lay in soft waves about her still-innocent-looking face. She’d probably gained five pounds, and if his memory served him right, those pounds had been added to her legs and chest. Not as fat, though. No, the strong, brown legs extending from her white walking shorts hinted at lean hips. His eyes moved to her chest, where her sunglasses rested between her breasts on the thin material of her pink tank top. She definitely had more cleavage now than she’d had back then. He remembered her lamenting her less-than-ample breasts. He’d always thought her handful enough, though he admitted the extra pounds looked good in the skimpy top.

  When they reached the blue stucco-faced building that housed the ice-cream shop, Dillon stepped ahead of Monique and Calvin, then past the slide and swings the shop owner provided for the kids, and opened the door. Monique allowed Calvin to enter first and Dillon followed behind her. Naturally, his eyes took in the delightful sway of her hips as she walked with Calvin to the counter, the child’s favorite place to have ice cream.

  Monique helped Calvin climb up on a white, wooden stool, then she took the one next to him. Dillon walked around and took the stool on the other side of his son. He told himself that he wasn’t using Calvin as a barrier to keep from getting close to Monique.

  When the attendant approached them, Calvin quickly ordered his favorite, strawberry ice cream. Dillon expected Monique to order her favorite, black cherry, but she surprised him by choosing strawberry, as well. He guessed her taste in ice cream had changed over the years, and he briefly speculated what else had. When he ordered his usual chocolate, she smiled at him and he wondered if she remembered chocolate was his favorite. He didn’t ask, though, because Calvin dominated her attention. His son was definitely taken with Monique. The boy barely paused to breathe between sentences as he chattered away.

  Dillon smiled when Calvin stopped talking to eat his ice cream. Apparently, Monique’s charm couldn’t compete with the taste of his son’s favorite treat. Monique met his smile over Calvin’s head and he guessed she was thinking the same thing. The shared smile reminded him of the old days when they’d often finished each other’s sentences or spoken each other’s thoughts or smiled at some private joke. It had always been that way with them. Almost as if they were one person. Until the night of the senior prom. The door to his heart slammed shut at the memory.

  “Calvin,” a child’s voice called from behind them.

  Dillon turned and saw one of the kids from Calvin’s day care. Finished with his ice cream in record time, Calvin quickly scrambled down from his stool. His little friend whispered something in his ear, then Calvin turned and asked, “Can we go play on the slide?”

  “Sure.” Dillon wagged a finger at both boys. “But no pushing. Remember what happened last time.”

  Calvin dashed off with his friend after a mere nod of understanding.

  “What happened last time?” Monique asked.

  Dillon pushed his ice-cream dish away from him and rested his elbows on the counter. “Let’s just say boys can get rowdy sometimes—even a tyke as reserved as Calvin.”

  Monique’s brown eyes widened and he thought, as he’d always thought, that her coloring was perfect. Honey brown hair, chestnut brown eyes and doughnut brown skin. Too bad beauty was only skin-deep.

  “Reserved? He doesn’t seem reserved to me.”

  Dillon shrugged. “So I noticed. He doesn’t usually take to people the way he’s taken to you.”

  “I hope that means he likes me.” A light formed in her eyes that matched the wistfulness of her words. He could almost believe Calvin’s fr
iendship meant something to her. Almost.

  “He likes you, all right,” Dillon said. “But then, children are not known for being the best judges of character.”

  The light in those big brown eyes dimmed and he felt like an idiot for his attack. “Whatever I’ve done, Dillon,” she said, “I’ve never mistreated a child. I hope Calvin likes me because he senses that I’m a nice person.”

  “Look, Monique, I’m sorry I said that.” He instinctively touched her hand, a comforting gesture at odds with his need to hurt her as she’d once hurt him. The feel of her satiny skin sent shock waves through him and he snatched his hand back.

  She looked down to where his hand had touched hers. “You have every right to think badly of me, Dillon. I treated you miserably ten years ago.”

  He shrugged his broad shoulders as if it didn’t matter. As if it still didn’t hurt But it did. “That was ten years ago. Water under the bridge, as they say. There’s no need to go back there. You married a man you loved, and later I married a woman I loved. I have a son I love, and you have a child you love. I don’t have any regrets. Do you?”

  She stared at her empty bowl, the melted ice cream symbolic of her relationship with Dillon. It, too, had once been solid and so very good. Now it was nothing but a soggy mess. She looked back up at him. “There are some things I regret,” she answered honestly.

  “Take some advice from the master. Don’t look back. What’s done is done and it can’t be undone. Just try to make the best of every day.”

  “Speaking from experience?” she asked.