A brief laugh escaped her lips. “Why does that sound like a threat?”
“I haven’t forgotten my promise to reintroduce you to the joys of riding a bike.”
“Damn,” she murmured in mock disappointment. “So much for my plan to wear dangerously high heels and my tiniest miniskirt.”
“Damn,” he repeated, pulling a funny face. “I guess that’s what they call shooting yourself in the foot.”
“Maybe.” She gave him a cheerful grin.
Both of them were silent for a moment, and then his glance moved to the baby, who was shoving her own foot into her mouth with a happy smile. “Hi, hun. Is that foot yummy?”
Even though he hadn’t asked, Morgan hastened to reassure him, “This is Casey—a friend’s baby. She and I … we were just doing the shopping.”
Unfortunately, her words directed his attention to the contents of the shopping cart, Morgan realized with horror.
“Interesting selection.” Kyle studied the cart with a grin. Diapers, large boxes of tampons, wet wipes, condoms, and that stupid box of extra-absorbent pads. Morgan wanted the earth to open up and swallow her whole.
“Those are my friend’s things,” she hastened to explain. “She has a few small … uh, problems.”
“I see.” Kyle seemed to be having a hard time not bursting out laughing.
Morgan nodded vehemently, not feeling any guilt at all since Gayle had been immensely irritating earlier. “Yeah, some people are afflicted with an addiction to wet wipes, nymphomaniac tendencies, and incontinence. What’s a girl to do?”
His shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. “How nice of you to be so understanding and supportive.”
“Well.” Morgan pressed her palms together, looking like the picture of innocence.
That was the moment Gayle’s loud voice resounded from behind her. “I found another similarity between dogs and men, Morgan! When they’re excited to see you, they both wag their—oh! Hello?”
“Hello,” Kyle echoed cheerfully.
Morgan was sure you could’ve fried an egg on her face at the moment, because her cheeks were burning. “Gayle, this … this is Kyle. Kyle, this is my friend and colleague Gayle.”
Kyle held out his hand politely and cleared his throat. “I’m … um … excited to meet you, Gayle.”
Gayle’s eyes traveled down to his crotch, and Morgan socked her friend in the arm and silently vowed she would strangle her friend if she asked Kyle why he hadn’t kissed Morgan on their first date.
Fortunately, her friend seemed to remember her manners, though. At least, she shook Kyle’s hand like a normal person. “Nice to meet you, Kyle.” Of course, she then had to destroy everything. “You must be the Kyle Morgan went out with, right?” she asked innocently.
“Thanks for nothing, Gayle,” Morgan ground out between her clenched teeth, giving her friend another shove. “Weren’t you heading to the meat section to annoy the butcher?”
Gayle waggled her eyebrows. “Oh, you guys want to be alone? Should I take Casey with me then?”
Morgan glared at her friend.
As if unhappy to hear her name used in their banter, Casey started up with a wail that quickly turned into a full-blown temper tantrum surely heard all the way in the parking lot. Most days, the four-month-old was frighteningly docile and easy, but once she lost her cool, no stone was left unturned, metaphorically speaking.
“Oy.” Gayle sighed. “So much for taking our time shopping. That’s it, I’m afraid.”
Morgan echoed her friend’s sigh and reached out to lift Casey from her seat, but Kyle put his bananas in the cart and held out his hands.
“May I?”
He barely waited for Gayle’s puzzled nod before freeing the red-faced baby from her seat and taking her into his arms. The screaming infant calmed down abruptly, stared at the blond man in confusion, and then offered him a toothless baby smile and a giggle, which brought out her cute dimples.
“A baby whisperer,” Gayle whispered hoarsely, giving Morgan a meaningful look.
“Not at all,” Kyle protested cheerfully. He was holding Casey like a pro, making faces at her. “I just like kids.”
That only served to intensify Gayle’s stare in Morgan’s direction. It was as if her friend was trying to convince her to let the baby whisperer impregnate her right there beside the frozen peas.
“You seem to have had some practice with babies,” Gayle commented casually, though to Morgan’s practiced ear, her words sounded like a merciless interrogation.
Kyle was unfazed. “I have three nieces and three nephews,” he replied calmly, “so I’ve had quite a little practice, yes.”
Morgan was horrified when Gayle crossed her arms in front of her chest and asked slyly, “With so many kids around, don’t you feel the urge to have your own?”
While Morgan considered slaying her friend with a box of frozen lasagna, Kyle replied, “I just haven’t had enough time to consider that. You know how it is … all that bureaucracy involved in obtaining my Green Card, it’s so time-consuming.”
Morgan’s eyes widened in shock. Kyle had overheard Gayle grilling her about their date.
That meant … he’d heard her call him a closeted homosexual!
Morgan wanted to vanish into thin air. Her blushing friend looked as if she wanted the ground to open up before her, too. At least that would shut her up for a while.
The only way out of this situation was to actually get out. Morgan pushed the shopping cart toward the checkout as Gayle kept quiet and Kyle followed, carrying the baby on his arm. He wasn’t showing any signs of being offended. No, he was courteous enough to carry the heavy shopping bags out to Gayle’s station wagon and arrange them in the spacious trunk while Gayle buckled the baby into her car seat.
“Thank you, Kyle,” Morgan whispered. “It was awfully nice of you to help us with the groceries.” She realized she was wringing her hands.
“Hey, that’s what gentlemen are for,” he said easily.
Morgan cringed. “I wished you hadn’t overheard that particular conversation.”
“I thought it was charming,” he replied in the same conspiratorial whisper, before lifting a hand to tuck a few errant strands of her hair behind her ear.
Morgan froze, surreptitiously melting inside at the tingling warmth of his palm. An electrifying shiver went through her body and made her tremble as she pressed her cheek against his hand. Her legs seemed to have turned into molten lava. She couldn’t help raising her eyes to look into his, which darkened and fixed on her lips. When his thumb started to trace tiny circles against her cheekbone, the blood started to rush in her ears.
She held her breath and saw Kyle’s face inch closer to hers. When she felt his breath on her skin, she closed her eyes and lifted her face.
His lips felt so good on her own that Morgan could not hold back her sigh. And he tasted so good that she didn’t want to let this kiss end, ever. There was also his scent—spicy and tantalizing—making her dizzy. With the slight whiff of baby powder that still clung to him, it made her hormones go berserk. The kiss was gentle and restrained, but Morgan wanted to grab him and not let him go anytime soon.
Only when Casey whimpered somewhere back in the car did Morgan regain her wits.
Kyle must have heard the baby as well, for he slowly pulled away and brushed her cheek one last time. His breath was heavy and rattling. He took a step backward and ran a trembling hand through his hair. Morgan had never seen a more enchanting sight than this man with his reddened cheeks and glittering eyes. The kiss hadn’t left him cold, either, it seemed.
He took a deep breath and nodded weakly. “See you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow.”
Morgan felt she was practically glowing with bliss as she watched Kyle cross the parking lot—turning to look at her again at least a dozen times. She felt like a teenager in love!
She utterly ignored Gayle’s discreet cough. “So that’s what you like to call a gentleman?”
> “Shut up,” Morgan replied hoarsely. “Go take care of your incontinence.”
***
A few days later, Morgan paid a visit to the agency that employed her, but her mind was still reminiscing on the previous day’s date with Kyle. The evening had been so amazing that she was walking a few feet above the ground. She’d hardly closed her eyes last night.
He’d picked her up at home, in a car—a pickup he’d borrowed from his brother-in-law, as he’d admitted with a wink when he held open the passenger door for her. Seeing the two bicycles on the bed of the truck had made Morgan expect the worst, but the ensuing date could hardly have gone any more perfectly.
And her worries that she might have forgotten how to ride a bike had been totally baseless. Together they’d ridden up and down the Esplanade, enjoying the amazing view of the harbor, before finding a quiet spot in a field, where Kyle had spread a picnic blanket and surprised her with sandwiches and beverages, which had been hidden in his backpack. Since it was late summer, which, in Boston, meant it could get a little chilly when the sun went down, Kyle had wrapped an arm around her. Nestled against each other, they had sat on the blanket, looked out on the harbor under a full moon, and made out like teenagers. After Kyle had stowed the bikes in the bed of the truck again, their hugging and kissing had continued in his brother-in-law’s vehicle, and also in front of her door, when Kyle had said good night.
At least a hundred butterflies were still fluttering in her stomach at the mere thought of Kyle and his kisses. The last time she could remember falling head over heels like this was when she was twelve, and the Backstreet Boys had made an appearance in a mall where Morgan had just happened to be shoe shopping with her then foster mother. One look at Nick Carter, who had winked at her—which had probably been due to the bright spotlights, as she had to admit in retrospect—and she’d been madly in love, forever.
Well, she’d been in love with Nick Carter almost forever … until she saw the first movie in which Brad Pitt took off his shirt.
Kyle, on the other hand, hadn’t taken off his shirt yet, but Morgan was confident that the possibility of seeing him naked was much greater than the same thing happening with Brad Pitt. And if she was quite honest, she liked Kyle even better anyway.
The man was charming, a baby whisperer, a paramedic, and a gentleman who held doors for her. Plus, he was so handsome that it made her weak in the knees.
Morgan was so lost in her pleasing thoughts that she didn’t even experience that dreaded sinking feeling when she stepped into the open-plan office where she’d collapsed on her last day.
“Morgan, hello.”
“Hello, Pete,” she greeted her superior, who gave her a wide-eyed stare.
“Aren’t you still on sick leave?”
She nodded, adjusted the shoulder strap of her bag, and nodded at a colleague who put a comforting hand on her arm as she walked past Morgan. “Yes, for the rest of this week, but I’d like to return to work next Monday.”
The man with the receding hairline gave her a look of concern and then led her into the adjacent copy room, where they had a little more privacy from the people milling around between desks in the main office.
“Are you sure you’re ready to come back to work, Morgan?” He shifted some of the files he was carrying under his arm. “I know your last case was very hard on you, and we all fully understand if you need more time to process what happened.”
Morgan took a deep breath and gave him what she hoped was a convincing smile, while simultaneously straightening her shoulders. “That is very nice of you, Pete, and I appreciate it, but I’m fine. Really. I want to come back to work.”
Her superior studied her in silence, and the corners of his mouth twitched pensively.
After a few moments, in voice laced with resignation, he asked, “Does your doctor think you’re fit to work again?”
“Yes, he does. I went to see him this morning.” She patted her bag, which held the doctor’s certificate that said so. “I’m really okay, Pete. At home the walls are closing in, and I really want to work again.”
“Okay.” He nodded hesitantly. “But I don’t want you to overstrain yourself. You will start with the easy cases. Are we clear?”
“Absolutely.” Morgan flashed a relieved smile and held out her hand, which Pete shook with a tired expression.
“And if you feel overwhelmed by a case—”
“Then I’ll come to you and ask for assistance.” She nodded gravely. “Thank you, Pete.”
He groaned and pointed at the files that were strewn everywhere in the copy room. “We’re drowning in cases. It’s hopeless.”
“Was it ever any different?”
“Not really, no.” He ran a hand through his thinning hair. “I gotta get back to work. Then maybe I’ll see my wife this evening, before she goes to bed. I’ll see you on Monday, okay?”
“Aye, aye, Mr. Simpson,” she teased him.
Chapter 6
There were some perks to being a doctor.
You were allowed to park practically anywhere. And you could often flash your ID when flying and get a better seat on the plane, just in case another passenger needed medical assistance. However, since Kyle didn’t own a car—and thus didn’t need parking privileges—and also because he felt like a snob if he had people address him as Doctor Fitzpatrick—oh, and because the last time he’d set foot on a plane had been five years ago, when he’d flown to North Carolina to attend a conference on osteogenesis imperfecta—none of this meant very much to him.
But there was one advantage he really enjoyed: He could smuggle meatloaf into the hospital for his patients and bring them unexpected visitors.
He was sitting in his chair watching with a smile on his face as Cody and Brady sat on the hospital bed, engrossed in a wild car chase in Gran Turismo, obviously having the time of their lives. Witnessing this, it didn’t matter that he was simultaneously working on patient files and would have liked to catch some sleep after a long shift.
The two boys, who were close in age, had gotten along famously right away. Since his nephew was a low-maintenance eleven-year-old who was enthusiastic, outgoing, and approached other kids with remarkable ease, Kyle had thought it might be a good idea to introduce them. And Brady had not disappointed him. Kyle had picked up his nephew at the hospital’s main entrance and thanked his sister-in-law for driving him over to play with Cody, and then Brady had chatted with Cody as if they’d known each other forever. Sitting down on the other boy’s bed, Brady had asked about Cody’s broken leg and then decided that they should really have ice cream. Half an hour later, the two of them were sitting shoulder to shoulder on the bed, holding the controllers in their hands and laughing loud enough for the nurses a few rooms down to hear.
Kyle didn’t care, because head nurse Patricia was not on duty today, and none of the other nurses had the guts to deny him anything he requested. Sometimes the typical Fitzpatrick charm actually came in handy, since few women could resist it.
Speaking of which …
Kyle put away the file of an eight-year-old with chronic pneumonia and pulled his phone from his pocket to see whether Morgan had sent him a message. After their date two days ago, they’d written back and forth without pause. Kyle would have loved to see her again this weekend, but he had to process several old cases and prepare a lecture he was supposed to give to his colleagues next week. Still, he was itching to see the breathtaking woman again. The last time he’d lain in bed, sleepless and thinking of a woman, must have been when he was sixteen and Florence, the foreign exchange student, had taught him dirty words in French—followed by dirty things, also French.
He smiled when he saw that Morgan had sent him another message.
Yeah, I’m bummed we can’t meet this weekend too, but we could go to the movies next week. There are a few really good ones coming out (no chick flicks, I promise). If you’re up for that. Or you could come over and I could make dinner.
Even in the
presence of his nephew and his patient, Kyle couldn’t refrain from grinning like the Cheshire Cat. He might be out of the loop on most things, but if a woman invited a man over to her place to cook him dinner, that most likely meant she’d have no issue with making out on the couch after.
You’re inviting me over to your house? ☺
Her reply came promptly.
☺ ? Why the emoticon?
He typed his answer with a smirk on his face.
No particular reason. I’d love for you to cook dinner.
It seemed that Morgan was a rather skeptical person.
Did I miss something?
His fingers flew across the screen.
Nope ☺
Morgan replied even more quickly.
There’s that smiley again! Are you just in a good mood or something? Why are you throwing around smiley faces?
Kyle decided to show mercy and admitted:
Of course my mood would be awesome after you invite me over. I’m more than ready for wild make-out orgies on your couch.
Her outrage was palpable.
Wild make-out orgies?! In your dreams, Kyle, in your dreams!
He chuckled to himself.
Let’s discuss this next time. I need to get back to work. I’m happy you texted, Morgan. I’m looking forward to next week.
He quickly shoved his phone back into his pocket, lest he be tempted to keep staring at the screen like an idiot. When he picked up the file again, he noticed the two boys talking over the noise of the video game.
He heard his nephew say, with the earnestness only a child could show, “You must be really sad your mom and dad are dead. I’d be really, really sad.”
Even though Brady’s sympathy was touching, Kyle wanted to gag his nephew. But Cody didn’t seem to mind his new friend’s question. Instead, he sighed heavily and nodded, keeping his eyes on the TV.
A Matter of Trust (The Boston Five Series #5) Page 7