Perfect. What he had to say to her about his daughter would keep until after Hannah was in bed and he and Christi could have a quiet, adult discussion.

Unless she took off as soon as the sweater was dry, despite her obvious curiosity.

But he’d do his best to convince her to stay for a few more minutes and hear him out. Not that it mattered to the two of them at this stage, but for reasons he hadn’t yet analyzed, he didn’t want her to think his feelings for her had been as insincere as hers had been for him. He wasn’t proud of how Hannah had been conceived, but it hadn’t happened while he and Christi were dating. That wasn’t how he was wired.

Before she left his apartment tonight, he’d make that clear.

And while he was at it, he’d add a thank-you for helping him avert a crisis that could have sabotaged his efforts to connect with his daughter for the indefinite future.

“Is it dry yet?” Hannah burst through the bathroom door, a dab of toothpaste on her chin.

Christi shut off the blow dryer and felt the garment. “The front’s done. I’ll turn it over and do the back next. That won’t take as long.”

She revved up the blow dryer again while Jack dropped down to Hannah’s level.

It was impossible to hear his quiet words over the racket of the dryer, but Christi watched the interchange in her peripheral vision.

Hannah kept her eyes downcast as Jack talked, one bare foot propped on top of the other, hands clasped behind her back. Near as Christi could tell, she didn’t speak. Her only response was an occasional nod.

Christi gave the bedroom another discreet scan. It was a man’s room, through and through. Unless her instincts were off, there wasn’t a wife—or any woman—in Jack’s life now. And the somewhat stilted interaction between father and daughter suggested the two of them were little more than strangers.

He’d promised an explanation while they were in the laundry room—but would he follow through? It was possible he’d have second thoughts about sharing what had to be an intensely personal story with a woman who’d hurt him deeply.

On the other hand, she had come to his rescue tonight. That had to count for something—didn’t it?

She felt the back of the sweater and switched off the blow dryer. “You’re all set, Hannah.”

The girl sped over to the bed and lifted the garment as if it were spun glass. Held it to her cheek. “Thank you.”

“It was my pleasure.” Christi set the blow dryer on the bed.

“Will it unravel again if I sleep in it?”

“I don’t think so. Want me to help you put it on?”

“Yes, please.” She handed over the sweater.