His eyes cloud and he pulls back slightly. “There’s a ‘but’ in there somewhere. We’re amazing together, Emma. I’ve never felt this kind of chemistry with anyone before. Have you?”
“No but that doesn’t mean it’s right. If it was any other time maybe I’d say we should just go with it and have a little fun. You’re dealing with a lot and I’m still trying to get my education back on track. I think we need some time apart. To think. I don’t have time for distractions and you have distraction written all over you.”
The words seem to please him because he grins, that sexy, arrogant grin. “I’ll give you some time. But I don’t think it’ll change anything.”
“If we let it go any further, I’ll only end up liking you more.”
Suddenly his face changes. Becomes dark again. His mood swings are always so abrupt, they scare me a little. “I’m not sure I can stay away from you,” he admits.
The confession rips at my conscience. He wouldn’t feel that way if he knew why I was really here. Once he knows he’ll hate me.
And that’s what I’m really afraid of.
CHAPTER TEN
TANK
There’s no right way to meet your father again. It’s been twenty years since I’ve seen the man. But after my conversation with Emma a few days ago, I’ve made my decision. Spending time with my father will never be high on my priority list but getting medical care for my mother is. That’s what my heart is saying loud and clear. Save Mom. And that’s what I’m going to do.
Emma would be proud of my decision. I really wish she was here with me now. But she wanted time so I’ll give it to her. Maybe she’s right and it really is bad timing or maybe I just came on too strong. A family dinner may have been too much too soon. Plus all the drama at the dinner table would be enough to scare anyone off.
I knock on the door of my father’s hotel room. A young woman answers the door. She leans back slightly at the sight of my scowling expression. I run a hand over my face and try to look neutral. I don’t want to be here but that’s not anyone else’s problem.
“Tanner Marshall. Come in. Your father is expecting you.” She leads me to a spacious living area. “Have a seat. He’ll be out shortly.”
The hotel is pretty swank. It’s exactly the kind of place I’d expect him to be. “This is a nice hotel.”
“Yes, it is. Mr. Marshall remodeled it last year.” She smiles absently and then turns to leave the room.
“He owns the hotel?”
She gives me an odd look. “Yes, of course. He owns all of the StarCrest Hotels.”
“Of course he does.” Resentment festers just below the surface. Each one of these rooms goes for an astronomical rate. While my mom was clipping coupons and working two jobs, my father was buying hotels.
Briefly, I wonder if I’ll even recognize him. My last memories of him were from the perspective of an eight-year-old boy. What boy doesn’t think his father walks on water? But I’m a man now and I wonder what it’ll be like to meet him again this way. Will he still seem familiar?
If I could have, I would have put this meeting off. Taken some time to prepare myself. But since I agreed to his terms, I have to meet with him in thirty days or less. I don’t want to take any chances. If I keep to his agreed upon schedule then the money in my trust will continue to grow. So I’ll visit with him until I have enough to pay for all of my mom’s care. I may have to visit him to get the money but there’s nothing in that paperwork that says I have to like it.
“Tanner. You’re here.”
I turn at the grizzled voice in the doorway. My face probably shows my surprise but it’s too late to cover my reaction. When Patrick mentioned that my father was ill, it didn’t really hit me that he would look sick. But this elderly man in a wheelchair is not what I was expecting. I don’t bother correcting my name. He can call me whatever. I don’t plan to be here enough for it to matter.
“Yes. I’m here.”
“Would you like something to drink? They have lemonade. You always did like lemonade.”
“I liked it when I was eight, Dad.” The word slips out before I can stop it and it annoys me. I don’t want to call him that. He hasn’t earned the right to that title.
His face falls slightly but he recovers, wheeling himself over to the sideboard. He selects a decanter and pours himself a drink. “Of course. You’d probably be more likely to want a scotch right about now.”
The fact that he’s right only ratchets my irritation higher.
“Actually I don’t want anything. I’m not here for a drink. You already know why I’m here. Mom needs surgery so I need the money. It’s that simple.”
“I don’t have any right to ask but I’ll ask anyway. Why does she need surgery?”
Keeping it a secret out of spite crosses my mind but who would that serve? He can’t hurt her anymore at this point. Maybe if he realizes that she’s sick and needs me, he’ll let me out of these stupid scheduled visits.