Just One Kiss (Whisper Lake #4) - Barbara Freethy Page 0,86

he'd gotten up in the morning. He'd thought about it while taking a dozen tourists on an early-morning cross-country ski trip. And it had consumed his mind during a holiday lunch with his employees. Now, he had the afternoon free and the opportunity to do something to change Hannah's mind about having a relationship with him.

The past few days together, especially last night, had shown him how much he needed and wanted Hannah in his life. He'd lost her before, but he wasn't going to lose her again. She needed to trust him, and he could think of only one way to make that happen. He had to deal with his family issues.

He headed into the building and took the elevator to the fifth floor, to the offices of the chief of staff, Davis McKenna. His dad's assistant was sitting at a desk outside his father's office. She gave him a surprised look. He'd known Judy for most of his life, and certainly she was aware of the tension between him and his father.

"Hello, Judy."

"Jake," she said, a speculative gleam in her eyes. "How are you?"

"I'm doing well. Is my father available?"

"I'm sure he is for you. Go on in. He's just doing some paperwork."

He walked past Judy, then paused, needing one last double check. "He's alone, right?"

She nodded. "Yes, why?"

"Doesn't matter." He put his hand on the doorknob, flashing back to another door twelve years earlier. He should have stopped when he heard the sound of laughter. Or, at the very least, he should have knocked. But he hadn't. And his life had turned upside down.

Today, he would turn it right side up.

He opened the door and entered his dad's office, which was spacious and well-decorated, befitting the head of the hospital. His father sat behind a large desk, a computer to his left, a stack of charts to his right. Behind him was a window with a fantastic view of the mountains. The walls on either side of the room were filled with medical books, and a couch and two chairs in a seating area completed the space.

His father stood up, giving him a wary look.

He closed the door behind him before moving farther into the room.

His father came around the front of his desk, his arms crossed in front of him. His dad seemed to take that hostile but defensive posture every time they crossed paths.

"Why are you here, Jake?"

"We need to talk."

"About what?"

"You know what."

At his pointed words, his dad frowned. "Jake, please, that was a long time ago. Why do we need to discuss anything?"

"Because we do. I need to talk, and you need to listen."

His father stared back at him. "All right. Maybe it is time to get all this out in the open."

"It's past time. Twelve years ago, you made me promise to keep a secret. You made a compelling argument about protecting my mother and my brother," he said bitterly. "But you shouldn't have asked me to do that. You shouldn't have put that burden on me."

His father paled, his dark gaze narrowing in anger and guilt. "You're right, Jake."

He'd been prepared for a counterattack, not for an agreement. "Yes, I am right," he said forcefully.

"What I did was wrong. And it put a wedge between us."

"A wedge? That's an incredible understatement. You destroyed our relationship. You put me in the middle of a situation I never should have been in."

"I didn't know you were going to walk in on Louise and me."

He hated hearing that woman's name on his father's lips. Louise had been one of his father's nurses. She'd left town a few weeks after he'd interrupted their afternoon office affair, and his dad had assured him that it was a one-time thing, that it was a mistake, and it was over. As far as he knew, Louise had never come back, but whether or not his father had made the same mistake with someone else was something he didn't want to know.

"You can't tell your mother now," his father continued. "It would kill her, and what would be the point? I have been faithful to her ever since that day. Seeing the pain in your eyes, hearing the accusation in your voice, I knew I'd made a horrible mistake. And all my excuses for doing what I did were worth nothing. It didn't matter that your mom had been obsessed with Paul's care and couldn't have a conversation with me that didn't require my medical knowledge. It didn't matter