Weathered eyes the same shade as his espresso suit made a quick assessment of the living room, narrowing in what appeared to be disapproval. Following her father to the couch, they sat on opposite ends. Risking a glance at the clock, her heart leapt near her throat. “What are you doing here?” His voice was graveled but teasing. “Nice to see you, too. I had business in town, and since my favorite daughter hasn’t called lately, I thought I’d stop by. You know Mama worries.” The man was nothing if not a master of guilt. “Sorry. I’ve been busy.” Frown lines puckered in deep furrows as he sniffed. “Doing what? Don’t tell me you went out and got a job?” He clutched at his chest as though such news would prove a fatal jolt. She rolled her eyes. “No. Just stuff.” He grunted. “You might tear yourself away from stuff every now and then to call up your personal bankers, let them know you’re still alive.” Ridelle sighed. She really didn’t have time for one of his forays into financial sarcasm.
