“Stop looking at me like that,” he growled sensually. “After last night and this morning, you’re in no shape to follow through on it.”

And he was right. She was still amazed that Ian Sinclair had agreed to be the third in their relationship. Ian rarely participated in any of the club members’ relationships, and as far as she had known, he had never acted as third. First maybe, but never third.

The experience had been wild, erotic, a giving unlike anything she had ever known as Jared held her in his arms, his gaze locked with hers as Ian began to fill her greedy, soaked cunt.

She shivered now at the memory, staring back at Jared as love exploded in her soul. It still amazed her that he was truly hers.

“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.

“Why?” She ran her finger gently over a row of tiny pearls on the long train of the gown that had been folded carefully to the side.

She looked up at him then, seeing someone she didn’t know. This wasn’t the father she had fought for so many years. The self-righteous bastard who had, on more than one occasion, all but called her a whore.

He lowered his head slowly, shaking it helplessly as he pushed his hands into the pockets of his slacks.

“I’ve not been a father to you since you were five,” he said, almost too low for her to hear. “I won’t excuse myself. There is no excuse, Kimberly. I won’t make one. But I wanted you to know…” he swallowed tightly, “I always loved you. Even when I didn’t want to. When I tried not to. I loved you.”

He shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably as she lifted a slender envelope she glimpsed tucked beside the doll. Curious, she opened it, pulling the papers free. She scanned the legal documents in disbelief before looking at him again.

What the hell was going on here?

“It was always meant to be yours,” he snapped then. “If you had married a derelict from the streets, I would not have taken it from you. I married your mother for the money, I admit that. But by God, I didn’t get her pregnant for the money, nor was it an accident.”

He appeared angry, as he always did. His voice was rough, a little too loud, but this time she saw something she realized had always been there in the past. His pain.

“I can hear you,” she said softly. “Don’t yell at me, Father.”

He grimaced tightly, glancing away again. “I don’t mean to yell.” He attempted to throttle the sound. “My fellow cabinet members are forever chastising me for it. Sometimes, I don’t realize…” He broke off again.

“Why now?” She couldn’t figure that part out. “Why come to me now when I needed you years before?” Her voice was roughening with tears, and she hated that. She shouldn’t hurt; she shouldn’t care.

He cleared his throat again, shifting uncomfortably. “I read her diary. You left it out at Briar Cliff. When you renounced the estate, I was given a letter she wrote me before her death. I went to Briar Cliff to try to make sense of it, and I found the diary.” He blinked jerkily.

“When you were five, the evening of your birthday, she led me to believe you may not be mine. It’s no excuse,” he snapped furiously. “No excuse for what I did. But while I was reading her words, I realized we hurt you. In our selfish attempts to hurt each other, in my own moralistic, self-righteous belief of right and wrong, I had committed an even greater sin. I had denied the child I accepted on her birth. Shouldn’t have mattered if she had lied to me, or if she had truly cheated me. I accepted you. And I was wrong.”

He stared straight ahead as he spoke, his hazel eyes a bit watery, his hands bunched in his pockets as Kimberly watched him in shock, uncertain, confused. She glanced back down at the doll. It had taken longer than a few weeks for this creation. He would have to have commissioned it more than a year before.

“I don’t expect forgiveness,” his voice was rising again. “Don’t deserve it. But I wanted you know. I know what he does, that man you’re marrying. That Club he’s a part of. I know what it means. I don’t like it. You know I don’t like it…” He stopped, obviously attempting to control the volume of his words. “You’re my daughter. What you do in your privacy is none of my business… I just want…” He broke off again.

Kimberly stared back at him silently.

“One day…” he continued, “you might have children. Maybe a little boy, too. I want…” He cleared his throat roughly. “I don’t want to lose the chance to know your children, as I denied the chance to know you… Dammit, don’t cry woman. I won’t have those tears,” he yelled then.

Before Kimberly could respond he had jerked a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it to her cheeks. A bit roughly, wiping at the tears before pushing it into her hands.

“Clean it up…” he snapped, gritting his teeth, lowering his voice. “I can’t stand to see you cry. Reminds me of too many things, Kimberly. Too much pain I caused in the past. Please don’t cry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“She tried to tell me at the end,” she sniffed. “And I misunderstood.”

He nodded bleakly. “I know. I heard what she said and I misunderstood as well.” He patted her head roughly. “I have to get back. I have work to do, girl. I don’t have time to stand around here. Just…” He swallowed tightly. “Be happy, Kimmie. That’s all I ever really wanted for you.”

He turned and began to stalk to the doorway.

“Father.” He paused as she called out to him. “I’m getting married. Carolyn informs me the wedding is in six months.”

He grunted roughly. “That woman’s a busybody.”

Strangely, his voice was filled with a fondness she hadn’t expected.

“Yeah, she is,” she agreed. “But I’ll need someone to give me away,” she said hesitantly, wondering if she was only hurting herself with the words.

He turned slowly. It was his turn to be shocked, filled with disbelief.

His lips opened. Closed.

“I don’t deserve to,” he finally whispered. “I never expected to be able to.”

“If you want to,” she said, aching for the years lost, the father she realized she never knew. “Love me, love my husband, Father.”

He blinked roughly. “He stole my daughter,” he growled. “But I was doing a lousy job taking care of you anyway. And I would be proud…damned proud, Kimmie, to give you to him. I sacrificed your love for my own selfish pride. But I’d be damned proud to give you away.”

She licked her lips warily. “I never hated you.” She couldn’t say anything more. Right now, she was stunned, unable to explain to herself how this had happened.

He nodded jerkily. “I’m thankful for that. Now, I have a country to try to help slap back in shape for my grandkids. You keep that man you’re marrying in line.” He pointed a finger at her demandingly. “He’s too damned stubborn and sure of himself. Gives the rest of us a bad name…” He pressed his hands nervously into his pockets again. “Love you, Kimmie.”