Bittersweet Love. Rochelle Alers

fits, then wear it, Griffin Rice. If a woman dated as many men as you do women, people would call her a whore.”

      “I don’t date that many women.”

      “Why, then, didn’t you sue that tabloid that documented your many trysts?”

      “I don’t have the time, nor the inclination to keep up with gossip.”

      Resting a hip against the counter, Belinda gave him a long, penetrating stare. “Are you saying what they printed wasn’t true?”

      There came a lengthy pause before Griffin said, “Yes.”

      “What about the photographs of you and different women?”

      “They were photo ops.”

      “They were photo ops for whose benefit?”

      “Most times for the lady.”

      “So, all that dishing about you being a womanizer is bogus.”

      Leaning on his elbow, Griffin cradled his chin in his hand. “If I’d slept with as many women as the tabloids claim I have I doubt whether I’d be able to stand up.”

      Belinda turned her head to conceal her smile. “Real or imaginary, you’re going to have to clean up your image now that you’re a father.”

      Now that you’re a father.

      Belinda’s words were branded into Griffin’s consciousness as he got up to take the rest of the dishes off the table. He, who hadn’t wanted to marry and become a father because he didn’t want his children to go through what he’d experienced with his warring parents, now at thirty-seven, found himself playing daddy to his adolescent nieces.

      When Jonathan Connolly had called to tell him that he had received the documents legalizing the girls’ adoption, Griffin felt his heart stop before it started up again. He’d feared his life would change so dramatically, that he would have to hire a nanny to take care of his nieces and that he wouldn’t be able to recognize who he was or what he’d become until he remembered Belinda telling him she would have the girls live with her, and if he chose he could have them on weekends.

      Belinda’s suggestion had come as a shock to him. He’d thought of her as the consummate career woman. She taught high school history, spent her winter vacations in the Caribbean or Florida and traveled abroad during the summer months.

      He had vacillated between indifference and new-found respect for Belinda when she’d decided to renovate her house to address the needs and interests of the two children she’d thought of as her own within days of them losing their parents.

      Belinda Eaton had sacrificed her day-to-day existence for “her children” while he hadn’t given up anything. When he’d come to her house the night before he said he’d come to see his children. They weren’t only his children or Belinda’s children. Sabrina and Layla Rice were now legally the children of both Belinda Eaton and Griffin Rice.

      “I’ll try, Belinda.”

      She gave him a level look. “Don’t try, Griffin. Just do it.”