Girl's by Darla Phelps Read Free Book Online Page A

recognize as arousal rather than nervousness. The sound went straight to his groin.
    "What is it?"
    Looking up at him through her lashes, she softly admitted, "Those feelings haven't disappeared for me either. Will...um, will you fit inside my crib?"
    He leaned his head back on the couch and laughed.

Chapter Three

    Spaghetti sauce bubbled on the stove. The aroma of fresh baked garlic bread wafted through the kitchen, Daddy David rinsed the steaming hot noodles at the sink, and Meg hadn't had to cook a thing. She hadn't even helped.
    "I don't want you to get burned," Daddy had said, and he'd put her in a full-sized, wooden highchair.
    At first Meg felt awkward simply sitting there. But unable to see under the tray to figure out how to work the strange latches beneath, she was stuck. So she sat with the puzzle book Daddy David had given her, drew a crayon line through a round maze, and occasionally sucked at her sippy cup of fresh juice or snacked on the cheerios he'd given her.
    "I hope you like pasta," David gently tapped the pasta strainer against the side of the sink and then poured the noodles into a large bowl.
    "I didn't know daddies cooked." Her brow furrowed as she stared at the maze. She had just crayoned herself into a dead end.
    David smiled, spooning several large meatballs over the pasta and then smothering all in a thick tomato sauce. "My father is Italian; my mother's Jewish. Which means this particular Daddy can cook just about anything, and if you don't have at least four helpings, I can make you feel guilty about it, too." He collected a single fork from a drawer and brought the bowl to the table. "Would you like more to drink?"
    She up-ended her cup to drain the last few sips before handing it over to him. "Do I get s'ghetti, too?"
    "Of course."
    "How come there's just one bowl?"
    "Because I'm going to feed you." He rinsed the cup and this time filled it three-fourths of the way with milk.
    She made a face when he set it on her tray. "Don't like milk."
    "Drink it anyway."
    She pouted, picked up the sippy cup, and put it on the table as far from her as she could reach. No sooner had her fingers left the cup than did he pick it up again.
    "In my house, little girls are served milk with every meal. It's good for you." He put it right back on her tray. "So, unless you are allergic-"
    "I'm allergic," she said automatically, feeling only a slight twinge of guilt over the lie. The twinge lasted only until he sat down at the table, turned his chair to face her and braced his strong hands upon his knees. The look he gave her was unsmiling and grim.
    "Why wasn't that allergy on the list you emailed me?"
    The twinge of guilt became a tight little knot of apprehension. She fidgeted with the crayon, wilting a little under his hard stare. "I-I forgoted."
    "You forgot to add it to the list or you forgot about the list in the first place?"
    The crayon snapped in her hands. Unable to keep his eyes anymore, she lay the broken pieces on top of her puzzle book and slowly wiped her hands on her pajamas.
    When she didn't answer, Daddy asked, "How long have you had this allergy?"
    She shifted a little, feeling the tender spots from his earlier spanking. Was lying a spankable offense? Her eyes began to tear up. "I might be allergic."
    "Did you lie to me?"
    She bit her lip, then pointed to the bowl sitting forgotten on the table. "The s'ghetti's gettin' cold."
    "Meg. You lied to me, didn't you?"
    The apprehension was growing, tightening in her chest and making it hard to breathe. Reluctantly, she nodded and then her bottom lip trembled as he took the pieces of crayon, the book, and her sippy cup and set them all on the table. "I don't wanna drink milk! It's yucky! I don't like it!"
    He reached beneath the highchair tray, removed it and set it on the floor. "Go upstairs and get your hairbrush. I want you to bring it down to me."
    "No-o!" she wailed. "I won't fib no more!"
    "Baby, if I have to get it for you, not only will you still