Free Lover's Leap by Emily March Page A

make that determination, she needed more information—whether she wanted it or not.
    She’d spent years trying not to think about Cam, telling herself to resist the urge to track him down. For more than two decades, she’d assured herself that she didn’t want to know what had happened to him after his release from juvenile detention. For the most part, she’d meant it. Now, for her daughter’s sake, she couldn’t afford that approach any longer.
    She bent over, let out a frustrated groan, then gathered herself, stood up, and faced him. “All right, here’s the deal. Lori and I will weather this storm. The people who matter won’t give us grief, and those who don’t matter, don’t matter. My only priority is to do what is best for Lori. But in order to decide what that is, I need to know more about you.”
    He braced his hands on his hips and appeared vaguely insulted. “I’m happy to answer any question you have, Sarah. I have no intention of hurting our daughter. However, you need to know that I do intend to meet her. One way or another.”
    “Did you mean to make that sound like a threat?” Sarah folded her arms. “Because if you did, I’ll tell you right now that I’m the gatekeeper. Only my dearest friends know where she’s working, and they won’t tell if I ask them to keep quiet.”
    Unexpectedly, he grinned. “You’re a lioness, aren’t you?”
    “Darn right.”
    “Then I won’t mention that I have an open-ended return ticket to Australia. I can hang around and wait indefinitely for her to come home.”
    Indefinitely? She narrowed her eyes. He had to be kidding. He had a school-age son. Surely he was kidding.
    “It’s good you’re not going to mention it.” She returned to her seat on the bench, crossed her legs, and folded her hands. “So, Cam, tell me about yourself.”
    “What do you want to know?”
    “The basics. Work. Family. How you came to live in Australia. Normal stuff.”
    He leaned a shoulder against one of the gazebo’s posts, folded his arms, and casually crossed his ankles. “I’m the owner/operator of the tour company you ditched, Adventures in Paradise Tours.”
    He was the owner? Not just a deckhand? Well. Okay . “Hey, thanks for refunding our reservation fees.”
    “That was an exception in policy,” he commented drily, then continued. “As far as family goes, it’s just me and Devin. We lost our twelve-year-old Weimaraner, King, in March.”
    “Oh, I’m sorry.” It was a sincere expression of regret—for more reasons than one. By sharing the death of the family pet, he’d made it awkward for her to ask about Devin’s mother. It hadn’t escaped her notice that he’d neglected to mention either a wife or an ex-wife or a deceased wife. Or a girlfriend.
    “The story of how I got to Australia hasn’t changed from what I outlined in the first letter,” he continued. “Have you forgotten? Or did you not bother to read it?”
    First letter? She uncrossed her legs and sat forward. “What are you talking about?”
    “Ten years is a long time, but I’m still surprised that you’d forget.” Hurt flashed briefly over his face. “As I recall, that part of the story filled up the front and back of three pages.”
    “Wait a minute,” Sarah said, holding up her hand, palm out. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “You don’t remember that letter?” His eyebrows arched above accusing green eyes. “That’s almost humiliating. Guess you must have been sidetracked by the check.”
    Check? Sarah’s brows rose. What check?
    “I admit they were late in coming. The first ten years I didn’t have two quarters to rub together, but once I got on my feet, I did try. I made a couple of phone calls, found out that you still worked at the Trading Post, so I sent the letters there.”
    Sarah’s heart began to beat double time. Letters. Checks . She cleared her throat, then stated, “You sent me a letter.”
    Cam stared at her hard, his gaze