Forever A Father

“Will you be my dad?”

Ask me anything but that.

Once upon a time, Dr. Daniel Delaney had it all. But he lost it in the blink of an eye, and he won’t let himself fall again—not even for his dedicated new assistant, Keela O’Mara, and her adorable, lonely little girl, Anna. Resisting a starry-eyed four-year-old is tough enough. Denying her perfect, loving single mom may be more than Daniel can handle...

LYNNE MARSHALL used to worry she had a serious problem with daydreaming, and then she discovered she was supposed to write those stories down! A late bloomer, she came to fiction writing after her children were nearly grown. Now she battles the empty nest by writing romantic stories about life, love and happy endings. She’s a proud mother and grandmother who loves babies, dogs, books, music and traveling.

Also by Lynne Marshall

Her Perfect Proposal

A Doctor for Keeps

The Medic’s Homecoming

Courting His Favorite Nurse

Miracle for the Neurosurgeon

A Mother for His Adopted Son

200 Harley Street: American Surgeon in London

Her Baby’s Secret Father

Wedding Date with the Army Doc

His Pregnant Sleeping Beauty

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Forever a Father

Lynne Marshall

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-07742-2

FOREVER A FATHER

© 2018 Janet Maarschalk

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Sincerest thanks to Flo Nicoll for guiding me through the early stages of this project.

To Gail Chasan for giving me the chance to tell the Delaney brothers’ stories for Special Edition.

And special thanks to Megan Broderick

for stepping up on my behalf.

I am deeply grateful.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Extract

Chapter One

Daniel Delaney opened the clinic supply closet, but it was nearly bare. “Keela!” He called for his physical therapy assistant before filtering the frustration out of his voice. What was going on? She was usually on top of everything related to the job, yet here he stood, with not a single Velcro tendonitis strap in sight. Disappointed, he glanced around. Where were the red stretch bands, or the electrical pads for the TENS machine? Eyes darting every which way, he added several other items to the list. “Keela!”

The PT in question stuck her head into the tiny supply closet, her large baby blues registering alarm. “Yes?”

“Where is everything?” He glanced around to emphasize the point.

Her light brown brows lowered and she stepped inside. “I told you last week the weather conditions in the East had set back the delivery dates on my last order.” Unlike him, she spoke civilly, though she folded her thin arms and lifted her slightly squared chin.

“You did?” He’d worked with her for three months, had hired her on the spot the day she’d walked in, which was unlike him. But after having lost on short notice his first PT tech, Tiffany, he needed a replacement. He’d also been limping through an ongoing private hell, making him a bear to work with, which was probably why Tiffany had quit in the first place. That and his high expectations for his employees. Like expecting them to be on time. Bullheaded to a fault, he’d attempted to do everything himself for one long, stressful month and failed miserably. Chalking that up as a major blunder, he’d accepted his shortcoming. He’d been a guy who’d gotten too full of himself with opening his own physical medicine practice, and who’d thought he could do it all...while grieving. Lesson learned.

On the other hand, he’d had a hunch about the woman from Ireland who’d just completed her accredited associate degree from the local city college, and who desperately needed the job. Maybe the accent he recognized in his own grandfather swayed him a teeny tiny bit. She was new in town, divorced, and had a child to support, and was the complete opposite of Tiffany, who’d complained he was too demanding when he insisted she show up for work on time and finish everything before she left. Keela was employee-of-the-month material.

He hadn’t regretted spontaneously hiring her, either. She was particularly good at dealing with his no-longer-sunny personality and letting his occasional gruffness roll off her skin. Like right now, when he wasn’t ready to admit she may have told him this information before. “Hmm.”

“I should know never to talk to you when you’ve got your head buried in paperwork.” She gave an understanding smile, the kind that always brightened her eyes and disarmed him.

“So when’s the order expected?” Standing nearly nose to nose with her in the tight chamber felt cramped. Plus her vanilla herb perfume was disturbing; he didn’t know whether to sniff her or nibble her neck, which for some reason made him cranky again. He motioned for her to back out, she did and he followed.

“They promised before the end of this week.”

He let out his breath. “Then I guess we’ll just have to make do.”

Her sometimes distracting smile stretched wider. “That’s what you said last time.” She turned in the short hallway, the gotcha moment causing a nearly imperceptible twitch of one brow, and went back into the physical therapy room, where the first of her afternoon patients waited.

Point taken, and true, he let his job preoccupy him. A perfect excuse to push his ongoing grief aside. The clinic was his bread and butter, and lately there’d been more crust than bread, and only a thin layer of no-name buttery spread. But he was determined to make the business side of medicine work right here in his hometown, Sandpiper Beach. Even though beach towns were notoriously tough on new businesses, and moving back home after losing the woman you loved wasn’t the best reason to throw yourself into a new business venture. But he did love his job.

He’d wanted to become a physical medicine doctor since he was an injured preteen jock and had been sent to one for multiple issues, all of which related to overdoing it in sports. The doctor had worked wonders on his aches and pains without loading him up on pills, handing him back his jock status to play football and baseball to his heart’s content. Daniel quickly became a believer. In fact, it changed his life. From that point forward he’d set his goal on the prize of medicine. The refocus may also have had something to do with the reality check that he wasn’t big or burly enough for professional sports. Whatever the true reason, he’d worked tirelessly throughout high school, college, medical school and his residency/fellowship. For this. He glanced around the small, functional clinic as he walked back to his office, the pride planted in his chest blooming a bit. He’d actually done it—survived the first year without Kathryn and in business.

Business ran in the family. Padraig Delaney, his eighty-five-year-old grandfather, had immigrated to the United States in the 1950s, where he helped develop the lush golf courses along the central California coast. There he’d met Mary and made her his wife. They’d scrimped and saved and bought property in Sandpiper Beach because it reminded him of Sligo Bay way back home in County Sligo, Ireland. Soon after, he and Mary built a small beachside hotel and called it The Drumcliffe.

Daniel’s father had taken over what was now a family business, after giving up teaching at the local high school, and Daniel’s mother managed reservations and hospitality. Dad had taken to the new job happily and likewise encouraged Daniel to work for himself. He’d been perfectly content with a good job in a hospital group down in Ventura, California, but within a year his personal life had taken a hit. Kathryn had left him. After the major setback, he’d fallen into such a slump that he decided to move back to his beach hometown and set up practice right here. He loved his parents and liked hanging out with his brothers, and Sandpiper Beach would always be home. With or without Kathryn.

The clinic soon became his sole focus, and with grief and pain as his constant companions, Daniel was convinced this business had saved his life.

He scratched out a note on his prescription pad: “One Velcro tendonitis strap.” Then he stepped back into the patient exam room. “John, sorry to inconvenience you, but you’ll have to get this filled at the local pharmacy. We’re currently out of stock.”

The middle-aged man suffering from new-onset tennis elbow took the script and thanked him. “No problem.”

“If you have any questions about how to put it on, come on in and either I or Keela will show you.” He demonstrated where on the forearm to place an imaginary strap and how to attach it without cutting off the circulation. “It’s not a tourniquet. Oh, and you can keep taking the over-the-counter anti-inflammatories, but don’t forget to use ice, too. If in a couple of weeks you’re not making any progress, we could try a wrist extensor, or after a month or so give you an injection, but let’s start with this.”

“Will do, Doc.” The silver-templed man hopped off the exam table. “Still feels strange to call little Danny Delaney ‘Doc.’” He winked a blue eye and shook Daniel’s hand, then winced from the tendonitis pain. “Thanks for being here. Otherwise I’d have had to drive forty miles for help.”

“Glad to be here, John. We’ll get this worked out even if I have to bring you in for some low level laser therapy.”

He escorted the patient to the hallway and, after watching him exit to the reception area, pivoted toward his small corner office to push through more paperwork before his next appointment in—he glanced at his watch—ten minutes.

“Daniel?” Keela popped out of the therapy room.

He glanced up, momentarily content being the guy in charge.

She approached, looking far better in their khaki cargo pants and white polo shirt uniform than he did. “You’ve written ten repetitions ten times a day for this.” She pointed to the exercise regimen he’d created especially for the patient. “Sure you didn’t mean three times a day?”

Were the unwanted thoughts from when he woke up this morning, about Kathryn and everything they’d lost, going to set the tone for yet another day? He gave his screwup face and, without saying a word, took the paper and made the correction, which got another one of those beyond-pleasant grins from his PT assistant. Yup, he noticed. Again.

Keela O’Mara cracked a smile at her boss’s silly face. He’d crossed his forest-green eyes and tipped his oblong chin, just like her four-year-old daughter sometimes did when she colored outside the lines. Sure, he was often gruff, but she didn’t take it personally. On the contrary, she trusted him for it, knowing what she saw was what she’d get. The guy was honest with his reactions, and she could deal with that. There was no question this clinic meant everything to him.

She liked working for Daniel Delaney and had hit the jackpot when she’d landed this job right out of Central Coast City College. Many of her classmates were still scrambling for work nearly four months later. Being back in Sandpiper Beach was a blessing after struggling for the last year and a half since the divorce from Ron.

Six years ago she’d started an online friendship with a guy in California. Living in Ennis, County Clare, Ireland, she’d thought the whole thing rather daring, yet safe. He liked her being from Ireland, and after six months she’d agreed to meet him for coffee on his layover at Shannon Airport.

His big brown eyes and warm, wide smile won her over immediately, then he proved to be the perfect gentleman. She’d known her share of smooth talkers, but this guy was polite and polished, and she wanted to know him better. When she’d wished out loud that she could show him around Ennis, he’d magically arranged to cut his vacation in Europe short by a few days to see her again. Her parents even liked him!

One thing led to another and he’d offered to fly her to California for a visit. Her parents cautioned her, so she’d made a firm request: I can’t stay with you, Ron. But he’d already booked her a room in a small hotel by the beach, The Drumcliffe—the people who owned and operated it were Irish Americans, he’d said, to make her feel at home—then he’d proved to be the perfect gentleman the whole visit. That was when she fell in love.

She’d been working as a massage therapist at a day spa in Ennis, getting by on her tips, but not earning enough to move away from home, let alone plan another trip to California. Two months later, she’d discovered she’d fallen pregnant. And though eventually Ron had asked her to marry him, he never seemed quite the same sweet-talking guy again.

* * *

Ten after four on Wednesday afternoon, Keela came strolling out of the therapy room. As she and her patient emerged from the hallway, Daniel was at the copier, collating packets for the athletic department staff at Central Coast City College—otherwise known as the 4Cs—for the upcoming presentation he had planned for tomorrow morning. Keela accompanied Mrs. Joan Haverhill, a long-term client at the Delaney Physical Medicine Clinic. That was, if you counted “long-term” as the one year since he’d opened his business.

“With your joints being fine, and considering normal wear and tear...” Keela said to the patient while nodding to acknowledge Daniel.

“Go ahead, say it—for a woman my age,” the tall, yet hunch-shouldered, gray-haired woman complained. “It’s all I ever hear when I go to the doctor these days. For your age.” She made sure Daniel heard her, too.

A lyrical laugh eased out of Keela’s mouth, and it never failed to grab his attention. She might as well be singing.

“I’d never say that, Mrs. Haverhill. You’re in great shape—”

The sixtyish lady tossed Daniel a deadpan look that seemed to say, Do you believe the crock she’s feeding me? More, please.

He smiled and added a benevolent nod.

“For your age,” Joan repeated, first pasting her gaze on him, then slowly looking back to Keela. “Kind of like the old joke about fortune cookies.”

Keela gave a blank stare. Joan glanced toward Daniel again. “Dr. Delaney, you’ve got to take your employees for Chinese food once in a while.”

The woman turned her attention back to Keela. “Here’s the old trick—all you have to do is add ‘in bed’ to whatever the fortune says.” Keela canted her head, considering Joan’s suggestion. “Um, let me think... For example, ‘Do not mistake temptation for opportunity,’ then you add ‘in bed.’ Get it? It always works, just add ‘in bed.’”

For her effort, Joan received another uncertain stare. “Didn’t you ever do that, Dr. Delaney?”

He pressed his lips together and slowly shook his head. “Can’t say I ever have.”

Resigned, she shrugged. “Maybe that was only my generation. Anyway, that’s the way it seems these days. Every doctor report I get either begins or ends with the phrase for your a—”

“In bed?” Keela teased.

Mrs. Haverhill gave an uncharacteristic chuckle. And that was another thing he liked about his employee. She was quick-witted.

“In that case, I want you to do these four exercises I’ve just shown you, three times a day...” Keela gestured for Joan to finish the sentence.

“...in bed.” The lady winked at Daniel.

“Yes. Well, on a bed, actually. Or better yet, on this mat.” Keela breezed to the cubicles that lined the hallway, which thankfully weren’t depleted like the supply shelves, and grabbed a bright pink yoga mat.

Having clearly won over the usually reticent client with the parting gift—another touch Daniel was proud to offer his patients but was worried he’d have to give up if business didn’t pick up soon—Keela received a smile from Mrs. Haverhill, who took the mat and headed for the door to the waiting room. “Thank you.”

“Have a great week!”

“In bed or for a woman my age?” Joan snickered as she went out.

Keela stood watching the client leave for a moment, then turned toward Daniel with a satisfied smile.

How could he not smile back? “Good work.”

As assistant physical therapists went, Daniel had known from the start she was damn good. It was the rest of the package that made him uncomfortable. The woman part.

Especially after Kathryn, who’d been responsible for his deciding to come back home. He’d asked her to move to Sandpiper Beach with him, so they could heal together. Instead she’d left, essentially gutting him.

“Thanks, boss.” Keela saluted and gathered the batch of paperwork for the next appointment. He’d asked her to see a few extra clients this afternoon so he could concentrate on his pitch for tomorrow. If he could land the 4Cs account, he’d be sitting pretty, with a never-ending flow of young athletes through his office doors. He needed to get it right.

Keela’s phone rang and she stepped inside her office to answer it. With the copier going, Daniel couldn’t hear the conversation, but as he gazed through the large office window, he noticed her brows were lowered. She said something else, then glanced toward the ceiling in a frustrated manner while listening. Just as his copies were done, she hung up, her shoulders slumped and her usual smile inverted. “Thanks for the too-late heads-up,” she raised her voice to the phone on her desk.

No sooner had she stepped into the hallway than a little girl barreled through the doorway from reception, an older woman at her heels. Keela’s face lit up when she saw the child. “Hi, Anna,” she sang, bending and giving her a hug.

Up until now Daniel had just seen pictures of Keela’s daughter on her desk. That, he could handle, but seeing her in person sent a painful jolt straight through his chest. He flinched, then quickly got a grip, though thanks to his recent history, looking at her felt like slowing down at a car accident. Man, she was small, with the kind of little-kid smile that belonged on a billboard. A junior version of her mother’s. He diverted his gaze to the paperwork in his hands.

“Thanks for dropping by on your way to your appointment, Mrs. Jenkins.” Acting upbeat seemed to be second nature to Keela, but this time it didn’t ring true.

Daniel stacked his handouts in a huge pile and started for his office, and shortly afterward the woman left, leaving Anna behind. He tried not to notice.

He’d just plopped the copies on his desk when he felt someone behind him. Keela stood at his office entrance, an anxious expression on her face, her daughter at her side. “I need to ask you a huge favor,” she said. “My ex-husband was supposed to take Anna for the afternoon and evening, but he only just now called and canceled, and Mrs. Jenkins has an appointment to get her hair colored.”

Daniel dreaded what he suspected was coming. His usual, nearly daily struggle with his loss had lightened up lately, thanks to the distraction of responsibilities with the clinic, but the mere sight of the impish little girl managed to decimate in a few seconds what progress he’d made over the past year. Slipping into defense mode, he went practical.

“You can leave her in your office if you need to.”

“Uh, no, she’s only four.”

“I’m almost five.” The child’s tiny hand shot up, all five fingers worth, which clawed at his achy heart. He had to admit the kid was cute, with loads of curls and big brown eyes, but...

“She needs supervision.”

No. No. No. Not a good day for this. “Do you want to cancel your afternoon appointments? It’s kind of late.” Keep thinking about the business. That, I can handle. But if he took over her schedule, he wouldn’t have the time he’d allotted to practice his pitch for tomorrow.

“No!” Alarm made Keela’s large iceberg-blue eyes grow huge. “I wouldn’t leave you in a bind like that. I’ve got four more patients to see, and I intend to see them.” She chewed her lip, her daughter holding her hand and staring up at her. The innocent party. “Is there any chance you could look after her for the next hour?”

What? I’ve got things to do. Presentations to prepare for. I don’t do kids. But he wasn’t that big of a jerk, was he? Keela was his employee of the month, every month. Hell, every day! She needed a favor, and he was it. “I guess she can sit in here while I work.” He didn’t even try to sound okay with the idea, and put the emphasis on work, as tension crept up his neck.

“Thank you!” she said, with such relief that he felt bad for his contrary attitude, even as early signs of panic set in. But he had a presentation to prepare for! He would just ignore the kid and soon the hour would be over.

“Let’s not make a habit of it.” The thought of spending forced time with the little girl sent an ice pick straight through his heart. Would he ever get beyond it?

“Never my intention, Daniel. I’m just stuck in the middle today.”

He clenched his molars. Yeah, he got that. Now he was, too, but childcare wasn’t part of their employment agreement. He had a business to run. It was his lifeline. “Okay, kid, have a seat.”

The little girl looked to her mother, who dropped to her knees and gazed at her, eye to eye. “Be a good girl for Dr. Delaney. Mommy needs to work, okay?”

Anna nodded, as serious as a little kid could be. Keela took the tiny, tangerine-colored backpack covered in animated movie characters off the child’s shoulders, unzipped it and fished out some crayons and a coloring book. “You can make some nice pictures for Daddy for when you see him next.” Then she escorted the girl to the chair opposite Daniel’s desk. The one he reserved for his patients. There was a small table with assorted magazines next to it. She could color on that. She was so tiny, and probably worried about the big mean-faced man. He tried to smile to ease her concerns, but failed. It wasn’t her fault she’d been stuck with him, old mean-face, who was still hurting and lost and, so far, unable to move on.

Anna didn’t seem too interested in drawing for her dad, but Keela opened the book to a specific page. She left for the therapy room on a wave of that vanilla herb scent, with a relived “thank you” on her breath, and thankfully, the child went right to work on her coloring.

Okay, so far so good. He’d survive, he’d get through this, and before he knew it, the time would be over. Think defense. He checked his watch, then got back to the task at hand, ignoring the kid.

“What are you doing?” The slow, inquisitive words broke his concentration. He tensed. Again.

“Uh, I’m working on a project.”

“Can I help?”

He stapled pages together from the large stack waiting on his desk. Daniel wanted to breeze through the mindless job in record time so he could practice his presentation until he knew it backward and forward. But there she was, standing next to his desk. He stopped and glanced at the kid, noting her hopeful dark eyes, her obvious eagerness to get involved. Man, ignoring her was tough. “Uh, okay. Can you push this down hard enough to go through the papers?”

He placed the stapler at the upper left corner of the next four-page packet on his desk. She was too short to reach it, so he held the stapler out to her, trying to keep some distance. Not the right angle, and zero support. She climbed up on his lap, and he instantly regretted it. How tiny she was, yet full of life, how...

Bang, she whopped that stapler like a professional, surprising him. “Good.” If they worked fast, this would soon be over.

A minute later she’d completed the task, with his guidance, and somehow he’d survived. “And that’s it. Thanks. Now you can go back to your coloring.” He immediately removed the child from his lap, finally able to relax and take a deep breath.

It occurred to him he might stick Abby, the receptionist, with Anna for a while. But Keela had asked him to do the job, and he’d already assigned Abby to update client records this afternoon, which involved calling former and current patients on the phone. Otherwise known as drumming up more business. She couldn’t very well do that, check in the arriving patients and watch a kid, too. And he’d cleared most of his afternoon specifically so he could work on his 4Cs pitch for tomorrow morning.

“I don’t want to.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to color. Is that a fountain?”

Looking out the door, she said the word slowly—“foun-tan.” Yes, it was. It was in the hallway and she was welcome to go get a drink so he could get back to what he needed to do. “Yes. Help yourself.”

Anna scooted out of the room in her pink leggings and tutu, her sneakers squeaking on the tile. It was kind of cute, but he ignored the thought. Too damn painful. Instead he gave a sigh of relief that he was alone again and focused on his speech.

“I need help!” She used her outdoor voice, which startled him, and he jumped out of his chair to assist her by lifting her under the arms. Man, she was light, hardly weighed anything. So vulnerable and completely dependent on him. So trusting. Precious. She pushed the button for water, but her mop of curls got in the way. Her face got wet and she giggled. He almost smiled.

“Here,” he said, balancing her on his bent knee and thigh, and holding her hair out of the way with one hand. She slurped to her heart’s content, coming up only when she needed to breathe.

“Tastes good.”

He thought quickly. “I can fill up a cup for you. That’ll be easier.”

“No...” She dragged out the word. “I do it this way.”

And there he stood, letting his PT’s daughter drown herself in icy foun-tan water, braving brain freeze for fun.

“All done,” she finally said, so he set her down and felt immediate relief. Now maybe he could get back to work.

“I have to pee.”

He scrunched up his face, didn’t even try to hide his reaction. Was this really happening? “Do you know how to do that by yourself?” Because there was no way he was getting involved in that.

“I’m almost five!” Up went the hand.

“Okay.” Whatever that meant. He took her lifted hand, walked her to the unisex bathroom and nudged her inside. She gave him an exasperated glance, then pointed to the toilet seat cover container on the wall, too high for her to reach. He stepped inside, but only long enough to put the thin paper cover on the toilet, then turned to leave while again thinking how small she was and hoping she wouldn’t fall in. Before he closed the door, she was already pulling down her leggings and underpants.

“Wait, wait, wait!” He couldn’t help raising his voice, but seeing alarm on her face, he toned it down. “Let me leave first, okay?”

“Okeydoke.” So easily appeased.

He stood outside the bathroom door for what seemed like forever, marveling at the innocence of children and how they needed to be protected. There went the stab to his heart again. He checked his watch, listening to make sure she hadn’t fallen into that toilet bowl, but mostly wishing he was in his office doing what he was supposed to be doing. Unfortunately, his thoughts got stuck somewhere between loss and grief, pain and dangerously close to do-not-enter territory.

He pushed the feelings down, insisting he could do this. She was an innocent kid and he was the adult in the room. Soon he heard a flush. “I can’t reach it!” she yelled.

He tried to open the door. How had she managed to lock it without him hearing? “Let me in so I can help.”

“What?” she yelled over the running toilet water.

“Let me in.” Instead of raising his voice, he lowered it, not wanting to draw attention to the predicament, or alert Keela that he’d already screwed up.