Temporary Family

by Sally Tyler Hayes

  “You’re not the kind of man who makes a habit of hurting women, are you?”

  “No, but I’ve done a lot of things in the past year that I never did before. I don’t want to add hurting a woman like you to that list.”

  Laura figured it was now or never. She was going to lose her nerve if she didn’t make a move soon. She took another step toward him, then put her hand in that thick, rich, tangle of his hair. It was soft and full and silky, just as she knew it would be.

  The pressure of her hand on his head forced his face down toward hers. Already she thought she could feel that little sting of awareness that would shoot through her at the touch of his lips to hers. It was something elemental and all-powerful. Something bewildering and magical that had the ability to melt her from the inside out.

  “It’s a kiss, Nick,” she said, lying about that altogether. “Just one kiss.”

  She saw the battle going on within him, saw the heat flash in his eyes, telling her he was just as aware of her as she was of him, that he, too, already knew exactly how this would feel.

  His eyelids came down, shielding his eyes. His lips parted ever so slightly, giving her hope.

  “It’s going to be a hell of a lot more than one kiss,” he said, “and you know it.”

  Then be gave in. With a curse and a hold on her that would tolerate no resistance, he pulled her to him. His lips covered hers finally. His body was rock solid against hers. He had just put his hands on her, and already she could feel the hard, throbbing pressure of his body against hers, the clear sign of his arousal that he could not hide.

  That burst of awareness came on like a firecracker, popping and flashing around them. Everything else in the world just fell away, until there was nothing but him and her, alone in the darkness.

  He kissed her greedily, hungrily, forcefully, as if he simply couldn’t get enough of her, as if she were going to be snatched away from him at any moment.

  Laura feared the same thing herself—that at any moment he could push her away—and she didn’t want that to happen. She wanted to hang on to him, to kiss him, to hold him, to blast through this barrier he’d erected around him and find the man inside.

  No pretense. No warnings. No prevarications.

  She wanted Nick in every way possible.

  She felt her breasts, loose within the dubious confines of his shirt, crushed against a broad, masculine chest. She felt his arms locked around her, then felt the pressure ease as his hands drifted lower until he was palming her hips in either hand and lifting her off the floor, settling her more intimately against him.

  She allowed herself just a second to be unsure, because it had been so long for her, as well, and because this kind of overwhelming, undeniable sexual pull was so new to her. Then she pushed the thought away.

  After all, this was Nick, and he had more than enough doubts for the two of them. She couldn’t afford to have any.

  His mouth still held hers a willing captive, and she felt a growing, throbbing heat low in her belly. His hands were still pressed against her hips, his body pulsing in time with hers. It would be so easy, she thought. His hands slipped beneath the cotton panties she wore and his palms pressed against heated flesh. His body thrust gently against hers now, something that, if possible, made her pulse pound even harder and faster than before.

  She still couldn’t get close enough to him, couldn’t get enough of a hold on him to make her think he wasn’t going to slip away at any minute.

  The kiss moved to a fever pitch then, until he felt like a lifeline to her. She was alive and deliriously happy at this moment to be a part of him. But she wanted more. She wanted much, much more, wanted all that he had to give.

  And then there was nothing. Everything simply dissolved into nothing.

  No hands on her hips holding her close. No broad chest against hers. No heart beating in time to hers. No mouth plundering hers.

  He was gone, even if he was standing right in front of her.

  Breathing hard, Laura put her fingertips to her trembling lips, to the spot where his lips had rested only a second ago, then pulled them away just as quickly as he caught her in the gesture.

  He turned sideways, putting his body at a right angle to hers, and he was standing about two feet away. He was looking up at nothing, his hands crossed in front of his chest, his stance one of a man she suspected was wishing he were anywhere in the world right now except where he was, with her.

  He’d done it. He’d thrown up that barrier. She’d gotten a little too close to him, and now he was going to try to regain ground she wasn’t willing to give back.

  Laura watched as his mouth opened, as he started to say something she couldn’t bear to hear. She cut him off before he could. “Don’t you dare tell me you’re sorry.”

  “All right. I won’t.”

  Which was every bit as bad, she realized, because he still felt sorry. He was sorry he’d ever touched her.

  “Damn you,” she said.

  “Yes, that’s exactly what you should do, Laura.”

  She glared at him through tear-filled eyes as she tried to bring her breathing under control.

  “You know, if you’re so determined to convince me what a terrible person you are, why don’t you just tell me what happened last summer? Tell me why I should hate you, Nick. Make it easy for me, and then you won’t have to be constantly pushing me away from you.”

  He glared at her.

  “Go ahead,” she challenged. “It would save us both a lot of trouble in the end.”

  He was a formidable man when he was angry—big, broad shouldered, flashing dark eyes, the anger simmering so close to the surface she expected a flash of something resembling lightning.

  She could just imagine Nick the fighter, working as hard to save a kid as he was working right now to push her away from him. He would have been a fierce opponent, a true champion to the kids with whom he worked.

  She could see it all so clearly in him now, buried inside him. What had done that to him? What had changed him and taken all the fight out of him? It had robbed him of something absolutely vital to anyone who worked with troubled kids. It had taken his belief that he could still make a difference to those kids.

  Without that hope and that faith, he’d never be able to do the job. There were too many hurt, neglected, damaged kids, and once a teacher or a counselor or a psychiatrist lost his faith that the kids could change, that they could still be helped, there was no point in going on.

  That’s where Nick was—he couldn’t see why he should go on.

  And it was up to Laura to show him.

  That’s why she was pushing him right now. Even when he was mad as hell like this, she wasn’t afraid.

  There was no more room for doubts. If only she could make him see that.

  “Go ahead. I dare you. Tell me something that will make me hate you.”

  “Why are you doing this?” he asked.

  “You’re the psychiatrist, Nick. Haven’t you figured it out yet?”

  “No.”

  “I’ve already decided to trust you, to have faith in you.”

  “That’s totally illogical,” he said.

  “Maybe so, but it’s true.”

  He considered that for a minute. “Lady, you need a keeper”.

  “Can I take that as an application for the job?” That won her a smile and gave her enough guts to continue. “Nick, didn’t anyone believe in you this whole time? Didn’t anyone trust you? Did you go through this whole mess alone?”

  He smiled sarcastically. “You would have made one hell of a psychiatrist.”

  “And you’re stalling.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “You have been all alone, haven’t you?”

  “Not totally. There was someone a lot like you, whom I couldn’t seem to push away, no matter how hard I tried.”

  “And he...” Laura felt so foolish all of a sudden when she realized she didn’t know if he was talking about a man. He might
well be talking about a woman.

  She’d thrown herself at this man twice now, and had never considered the fact that there might well be a woman in his life, or at least a woman in his past.

  “And...he?”

  “She,” he said softly.

  Chapter 10

  Laura turned away as quickly as possible and closed her eyes. The only thing she was capable of saying was “Oh.” Let him make what he would of that. She was incapable of caring at this moment.

  She felt like an absolute fool. Why would she ever think a man like him wouldn’t already have a woman?

  Then it was Nick’s turn to crowd her. He walked around the room until he came face-to-face with her, then caught her chin in his hand, softly stroking it with his thumb, sending her senses reeling with nothing but that slight, sweet touch.

  “Don’t do this,” he said.

  “Do what?”

  “Don’t read something into this that simply isn’t there.”

  Into what? she thought desperately. Into the way he’d kissed her? The way she’d responded to him? Or into his confession that there was another woman in his life who also hadn’t taken no for an answer when he’d tried to shut himself off from her? She wasn’t supposed to read anything into what? Laura didn’t know. There was no way she was going to ask.

  “So,” she mumbled, then tried to smile, “you haven’t been alone through this whole mess after all. I’m glad for you, Nick. No one should be totally alone in this world.”

  “It’s A.J.,” he said.

  He was watching her, and much too closely for her own comfort.

  “She’s married,” Laura announced, as if he weren’t aware of that. She felt even more foolish than before.

  “She’s a good friend, Laura.”

  “Oh?” And just what did that mean to him? Would he say that she and he were “good friends” someday?

  Nick stared down at her. Laura held her breath and tried not to flinch.

  Nick took her hand in his then, a gesture that surprised her.

  “Come and sit with me,” he said, pulling her over to the sofa. “This is going to take some time to explain.”

  She followed him and sat in the corner, only then remembering she was wearing nothing but his jersey and a pair of panties. The jersey covered no more than half her thighs now that she was sitting down, and she wished she’d kept her bra on when she’d gone to bed.

  Nick bent to pick up the afghan, then wrapped it around her shoulders once more. She didn’t know what to make of the look he gave her as he covered her with it.

  Laura curled her legs up under her and turned sideways to face him, trying not to think of the things they’d done together not five minutes ago in this room. It was a battle she was sure to lose, especially now that she knew about him and A.J., or at least now that she knew there was something between him and A.J.

  He sat down beside her. “Comfortable?”

  No, not in the least, though she wasn’t about to admit that to him. Laura nodded and looked at the floor.

  “Okay.” He put his arm along the back of the sofa, where it was very nearly touching her shoulder. She could almost feel the not-quite-there touch.

  “I don’t know where to start,” Nick said. “I haven’t talked to anyone about this.”

  Laura waited, not saying anything, giving him the time he needed.

  “I used to work at Hope House,” he said finally, “and a few other shelters throughout the city at one time or another. I met A.J. at one of those, eight or nine years ago, and she’s probably the reason I kept working with runaways. She was a runaway herself at one time.”

  “A.J.?” That did surprise her. “She seems ... so sure of herself, so in control.”

  “She is—now, In fact, I’m surprised you didn’t recognized her, either. Don’t you ever watch the television news?”

  “Not on a regular basis. It depresses me.” Even more depressing was the idea that A.J. was someone famous.

  “Remember about eighteen months ago, the stories about a little girl named Annie McKay?”

  “The girl who was kidnapped? The one who finally found her family after... what was it?”

  “Ten and a half years,” Nick said. “A.J. is Annie McKay.”

  “Oh, my God.” Laura couldn’t believe it. The whole city had been amazed by the story of the little girl who’d been kidnapped at thirteen and presumed dead for all those years. And then Laura remembered something else. “You’re the one who put it together, aren’t you? You’re the psychiatrist who made the connection between A.J. and that poor little girl.”

  “Yes.”

  “I remember you now.” She’d seen his face on TV as well when someone had interviewed him about repressed memories. A.J. had blocked out everything of her previous life. Laura could see Nick so clearly now, explaining the way the mind works at times, explaining that it was impossible to run away from your past entirely. “You looked so different then.”

  “I was different then.”

  Laura remembered. He’d been happy, triumphant almost. “She must love you very much.”

  His expression told her he didn’t understand at all.

  “For giving her family back to her,” she explained.

  “A.J. is very much in love with her husband, who had as much or more to do with giving her back her family as I did.”

  “Oh.” Laura wondered if she was seeing traces of bitterness in him, then decided it was more a sadness, a resignation to the facts as they existed today. So, A.J. didn’t love him, not the way she loved her husband. But that didn’t mean Nick had fallen out of love with A.J.

  “Anyway,” Nick said, “when I met A.J., she was just another lost kid living on the streets, and I was still in school, still working on my degree, trying to figure out what sort of practice I wanted to have when I finally finished my training.

  “I saw A.J. overcome so many obstacles. She’s an amazing woman. She made me believe that anything was possible. I thought, with the proper help any kid could turn his life around, just as A.J. had. I was hooked on psychiatry and on working with troubled kids.”

  “And then something happened?”

  He nodded.

  “Tell me, Nick.”

  “It’s not a very pretty story.”

  “I didn’t expect it would be. Tell me what happened. Tell me what changed inside you.”

  He shrugged uneasily. “Before, I never doubted that I’d done my best for a child. I never questioned my own judgment this way. I never saw the other side of the power to help, which was the incredible power to hurt someone when I failed to do my job the way I should have. I never felt so responsible for the death of a child.”

  “You said the responsibility wasn’t all yours.”

  “It wasn’t. I can see that now. I can reason to the point where I’m certain it wasn’t all my fault, but... knowing it was only partly my fault doesn’t seem to help. Someone’s son is dead, and I think I could have stopped it. I think I misread the situation, and I didn’t do enough to stop it.”

  He hesitated again, shoved his hands in his pockets, leaned against the back of the sofa and stared at the ceiling. “I don’t even know where to start, Laura. I haven’t told anyone about this mess in months—not since the preliminary hearing.”

  “Hearing?” Laura didn’t remember that.

  “Well, we never actually made it to court. I wish now that we had. The Barneses had months to tell any reporter who’d listen how incompetent I was, and then the whole thing was over. They dropped the suit, acted as if it was simply too painful for them to go on, told everyone that nothing would bring back their dead son, so they magnanimously decided to let me off the hook.”

  Laura was lost. “From the beginning, Nick. Start from there.”

  He sighed, then settled into the sofa beside her. “I did a lot of different things. I volunteered at some of the shelters throughout the city. I did some work with the DA’s office helping them question children
who were witnesses in sensitive cases or children who were victims of crimes. I testified in court as an expert witness at times.

  “But I had a practice downtown where I took care of the rich kids and earned a good living.”

  He continued to stare at the ceiling, his fingers drumming against the top of a cushion. She wondered if he was even aware of the nervous gesture.

  Nick cleared his throat and continued. “Two years ago, a fifteen-year-old named Carter Barnes III came to see me. It’s been all over the newspapers, so it’s not like I’m breaking some doctor-patient confidentiality rule by telling you.”

  “Okay,” she said.

  “Carter had some real problems, and he needed help. More than he could get from me in a counseling session once a week. Carter frightened me, and I talked his parents into putting him into a residential treatment center here in the city.

  “That was fine for two months. Carter was showing some signs of improvement. I thought he was going to be okay. And then someone resigned from the school board in the suburb where Carter’s parents lived, and Carter’s mother decided she wanted to run for that seat.

  “Apparently, she came from a longtime politically active family, and she saw this as her first step into politics. All of a sudden, the idea of having a really mixed-up kid in some residential treatment facility seemed like an incredible liability to her.

  “After all, she would be asking people to let her help run their children’s public-school system, while she had a truly troubled child of her own who went to some fancy private school in the suburbs when he wasn’t in a psychiatric hospital.”

  “Oh, no,” Laura said, the case finally starting to sound familiar to her.

  “Yes. I knew it would come back to you. The Barneses signed Carter out of the hospital one day. I fought them on it, Laura. Honest to God, I fought them.”

  “I believe you.”

  “Thank you.”

  He breathed a little easier then, and he stared at her, his eyes so dark, his gaze so intense. She wondered what be saw when he looked at her. She was just a woman who was willing to listen to him, who was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Sometimes he acted as if she’d given him the moon instead of something as simple and as basic as a little trust.