The Baby Bet: His Secret Son (The Baby Bet #5)

by Joan Elliott Pickart

  “They waited until you were a legal adult, then…Whew. That is a class act.”

  “That’s the caliber of people the MacAllisters are, Andrew. All of them. That’s your heritage, your roots. I assume that you loved your mother, Sally Malone, very much, but you’re a MacAllister, too, and you can take a great deal of pride in that.”

  “Yeah, right,” he said, dragging a hand through his hair. “After what Robert did to my mother? There isn’t a rubber stamp of excellence on these people, Kara.” He shook his head. “Let’s not get into all that now. I want to know about you.” He smiled. “Uh-oh, there I go again with I want.”

  Kara’s heart did a funny little two-step as she stared at Andrew.

  Andrew Malone smiling was more than she could handle in her exhausted state, she thought frantically. His smile softened his features, revealed straight white teeth and changed his brown eyes to liquid depths a woman could drown in. Oh, this man just didn’t quit.

  “Yes, well…” she began, then cleared her throat. “I’ve told you about me. I was Ralph and Mary MacAllister’s foster child, then adopted by them when I was eighteen. End of story.”

  “I’ll wait,” Andrew said quietly.

  “Wait for what?”

  “For you to feel comfortable enough with me—even more, to trust me enough—to share the complete story of why you were a foster child, why you didn’t have a home at sixteen. I’m not normally the most patient of men, but for you? I’ll wait.”

  Andrew covered one of Kara’s hands with one of his on the table. Heat danced along Kara’s arm, then across her breasts to finally settle low and intense in her body.

  “Because, Kara MacAllister,” Andrew said, “I know, I just somehow know, that you are most definitely worth waiting for. When you’re ready to tell me the whole story, I’ll be here. I’ll listen to every word. I just hope you’ll come to trust me that much, Kara, I truly do. I don’t know why it’s so important to me, but it is.”

  She was going to cry, Kara thought incredulously, drawing a shaky breath. Andrew’s softly spoken words were touching her in a place deep within her.

  He wasn’t pushing, wasn’t crowding her, wasn’t demanding an explanation about her past, wasn’t doing his I want routine.

  He was simply waiting—waiting for her to trust him because…because she was worth waiting for. Oh, good grief, she was going to start blubbering like a baby if she didn’t get out of here.

  She was overreacting to everything due to her exhaustion. Everything, including that kiss shared with Andrew in the elevator.

  Kara slipped her hand from beneath Andrew’s and got to her feet.

  “I have to get some sleep,” she said. “I strongly suggest that you do the same.”

  “I doubt there’s a hotel room free in Ventura on New Year’s Eve,” Andrew said, looking up at her. “I hadn’t planned on staying over.” He ran his hand across his chin. “I didn’t pack a bag, don’t even have a razor.”

  Kara folded her arms beneath her breasts. “Oh? You just intended to drive into town, destroy as many MacAllister lives as you could, then leave?” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.” She looked at Andrew again. “I’m beyond rational thought. Maybe I can arrange for you to get some sleep in an empty room here in the hospital.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’ll figure out something. I’ll see you in a few hours, Kara. Maybe you’ll have news about Robert’s condition by then.”

  “Yes, yes, perhaps I will. Good night, Andrew.”

  “Kara? Think about trusting me. Will you do that? Think about it?”

  Kara nodded jerkily, then turned and hurried away.

  Andrew watched her until she disappeared from view, then drew a weary breath as his exhaustion seemed to slam into him like a physical blow.

  He glanced around the nearly empty room and felt the chill of loneliness consume him once again.

  Chapter 4

  “No, I’m not sure how long I’ll be away,” Andrew said into the telephone receiver. “You have the number here at the hotel, so call and leave a message for me if something comes up that you can’t handle…Yes, have the foreman on each job site check in with you daily there at the office…Yeah, you’re right. You’ll get fat and lazy playing executive. Okay, Harry, I’ll talk to you later. Thanks for stepping in for me like this…See ya.”

  Andrew replaced the receiver, but didn’t remove his hand as he stared at the telephone.

  He’d begun calling hotels at dawn, using the pay telephone in the lobby of the hospital, and had finally managed to book a room. He’d left the hospital, then discovered to his surprise that a great many open-twenty-four-hours stores were ready for business despite the holiday.

  After purchasing some clothes and personal items, he’d driven to the hotel and stretched out on the bed, falling into a deep sleep before he’d even removed his shoes.

  Andrew glanced at his watch.

  One o’clock in the afternoon. He’d showered, shaved, put on fresh clothes, then called Santa Maria to give his top foreman instructions on running Malone Construction.

  Now? He was starving, should order some food from room service. But first he had to know how Robert MacAllister was doing. Should he call the hospital and pretend to be a reporter? No, they probably had a pat answer that divulged very little to the members of the press.

  Andrew’s hold on the receiver tightened, but he still left it in place.

  Kara. He needed to speak to Kara about Robert. Kara was his link, his only source of real information. Kara, who had also been front and center in the tangled and confusing dreams he’d had when he’d crashed onto the bed and slept.

  Kara MacAllister, Andrew thought. The kiss they’d shared in the elevator had been dynamite. He could vividly recall her taste, her aroma, the way her delicate body nestled so perfectly against him. He wanted her. He wanted her with a driving force, a need, the intensity of which defied description.

  Kara was a complex and intriguing woman. She was intelligent. She had spunk, a temper that rose to the surface when she was provoked and made him understand where the phrase “beautiful when angry” had come from. She was fiercely loyal to her adopted family. She loved deeply and completely.

  Loved deeply, Andrew mentally repeated, releasing his grip on the receiver and getting to his feet. Was there a special man in Kara’s life? Someone she loved deeply?

  He began to pace around the large room.

  He didn’t like that idea, not one little bit. Another man, other than him, kissing Kara? Touching her? Making love to her? No. No way. He didn’t know why, but the mere thought of another man being with Kara caused a painful knot to tighten in his gut.

  There was no man in Kara’s life, he reasoned, because if there was, he would have been at the party with her, then stayed by her side during the crisis the MacAllisters were facing. Fine. Good. Kara was not in a committed relationship.

  Andrew stopped pacing and shook his head.

  He was losing it. It was none of his damn business who Kara might or might not be involved with. And heaven knew, he sure wasn’t intent on becoming seriously entangled with her.

  But then again, facts were facts. Kara had returned that kiss in the elevator in total abandon, had melted against him, holding nothing back. She had wanted him, desired him, as much as he did her. Damn it, he knew she did.

  Yeah, okay, so she’d attempted to dismiss what had taken place between them as the product of their fatigue and stress. Well, he wasn’t buying that. This was the light of the new day she had spoken of, and he wanted Kara MacAllister every bit as much as he had last night.

  Kara, who had secrets in her past.

  Would she come to trust him enough to tell him about her life, what had happened to cause her to be alone, a foster child with no family of her own? Lord, he hoped so. Why, he didn’t know, but he wanted, needed, her to trust him, believe in him, know he would never do anything to hurt her.

/>   “Yeah, right,” Andrew said, sinking back onto the edge of the bed. “I’ve already hurt her by causing her uncle to have a heart attack. Sure, Malone, the lady will trust you without a second thought. Hell.”

  Andrew took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  He was going nuts thinking about Kara. What was of utmost importance right now was the condition of Robert MacAllister. He was doing everything but stand on his head to postpone calling the hospital, because he was scared out of his shorts that Kara would tell him that Robert had not survived the massive trauma to his heart.

  “Do it, Malone,” he said, picking up the receiver and looking at the piece of paper where he’d written the telephone number of the hospital.

  A sudden vision of another hospital from years ago flashed in Andrew’s mind, and he replaced the receiver with a trembling hand.

  He was fifteen years old and had come directly from school to see his mother in the hospital where she was dying of cancer.

  He’d been six feet tall already, but hadn’t filled out, was all arms and legs and enormous feet on a skinny frame. He’d folded himself into the small chair next to his mother’s bed and held one of her hands with both of his, watching her sleep. A few minutes later she’d opened her eyes and smiled at him.

  “Hello, my darling,” Sally Malone said, her voice weak. “How was school today?”

  “Fine. Good. Okay,” Andrew said. “How are you feeling, Mom? Are you in a lot of pain?”

  “No, no, they keep me very comfortable, and have ever since I had to come here last week. I’m just very tired, Andrew. So very tired.” She paused. “Did you see your aunt Clara when you arrived?”

  “Yeah, she was going outside for a cigarette. As soon as she saw me, she hightailed it for the elevator so she could get her nicotine fix. She probably needs a drink, too. It wouldn’t surprise me if she carries a flask in her purse.”

  “Oh, Andrew, don’t be so hard on Clara. She’s a very unhappy person. She’s never known the joy, the wonder, of what you and I have together.”

  “No one forces her to drink too much or to hook up with one loser after another. She makes her own misery, Mom. I don’t feel sorry for her. She’s loaded with money from when that guy she married died and left her everything, but she just hangs around her fancy house drinking and—”

  “Shh. Be patient with your aunt Clara. You’re going to be living with her after…after I’m gone, and I hate the idea that you two will be at odds.”

  “No, I’m not living with Aunt Clara. I can take care of myself. I look older than I really am and I’ll get a job and—”

  “Andrew, please, stop it. Promise me you’ll go with Clara. I know you don’t want to leave your school and all your friends, but you’re to move up the coast to Santa Maria and live with Clara. The only other alternative would be for you to go into foster care, and I can’t bear the thought of your being with strangers. Promise me that you’ll finish high school while under Clara’s roof. Promise me, Andrew, please.”

  Andrew sighed. “Okay, I promise. I’m not going to act like a son living with his mother, though. It will be a place to eat and sleep, nothing more. I don’t like Aunt Clara, Mom, and I don’t trust her. She always has a…a plan, a scheme or something. She looks out for herself and doesn’t give a rip about anyone else.”

  “She just sees things differently than we do.” Sally drew a shuddering breath. “Oh, I’m so tired. I’ve fought this menace within me for as long as I could, but…Oh, my darling Andrew, I’m so sorry to be leaving you. You’ve brought me nothing but happiness from the moment you were born. I’m not afraid of dying. I just wish I could watch you finish growing up, see you marry, hold your babies.”

  “Don’t wear yourself out, Mom. Take it easy,” Andrew said. “I don’t intend to ever marry. Loving someone gives them a power over you, the ability to destroy you, break your heart and…Never mind.”

  “You’re wrong, Andrew. Love can be glorious, like a miracle, when you find the right person. Don’t deprive yourself of that just because I chose the wrong one. Sweetheart, do you resent the fact that I’ve never told you who your father is?”

  “I don’t care who he is,” Andrew said firmly. “You said that you loved him, but he didn’t love you. That’s it. End of story. The guy broke your heart and I have no use for him. We’ve done just fine without him, whoever he is. You’ve said for years that it would serve no purpose for me to know his identity. That’s fine with me.”

  “Thank you, Andrew. I would be upset if I thought you’d been angry all these years because I wouldn’t divulge your father’s name.” Sally closed her eyes for a moment, then looked at her son again. “Andrew? Please hold my hand. Please?”

  “I am, Mom. I have your hand in both of mine. I’m right here.”

  “I can’t feel…your hand. I…”

  “Mom? Mother?”

  “Forgive me for leaving you. Forgive me. Don’t grieve for me, my sweet baby boy. I want…you to…be happy. You deserve…to be happy because…you’ve brought me so much…joy. I’m so…tired. I love…you. I…love…you. I…love…”

  “Mom!” Andrew said, tightening his hold on her hand. “No! Don’t go. Don’t leave me. Not yet. Mom! Oh, God, no-o-o.”

  Andrew had buried his face next to his mother’s head on the pillow and wept.

  The feel of tears on his cheeks jolted Andrew back to the present, and he stared up at the ceiling of the hotel room for a long moment, struggling to regain control of his raging emotions.

  He dragged his hands down his face, then propped his elbows on his knees and skimmed his thumbs over the tips of his moist fingers.

  He hadn’t cried since that day in the hospital when his mother had died, he thought. He’d wept then, until there were no more tears to shed.

  And these tears? They weren’t for Sally Malone or for the lonely fifteen-year-old boy who had been forced into an early manhood. No, they were for Kara, and Robert, and for all the MacAllisters who were going through the horror of a long hospital vigil now just as he had experienced so many years ago.

  They were suffering immeasurable pain because of what he had done. He had set off on a mission that his mother would not have approved of.

  He’d been so determined that Robert MacAllister would acknowledge the existence of Sally Malone. But if she had truly wanted that recognition, what was rightfully hers, she would have approached Robert herself and demanded he take responsibility for her and his child.

  “Ah, man, Malone,” Andrew said aloud, shaking his head. “You went off half-cocked, didn’t think it through, just reacted to Clara’s rantings and ravings, and that photograph in the newspaper, and…”

  And now? An entire family was in pain because of what he had done. He couldn’t reverse it, couldn’t fix it, couldn’t do anything, except wait to find out if Robert MacAllister was going to survive.

  Andrew snatched up the telephone receiver and dialed the number of Mercy Hospital. When someone answered, he asked to speak to Dr. Kara MacAllister.

  “I’ll need your name before I page her, sir,” the woman on the telephone said.

  “Malone. Andrew Malone.”

  “Thank you, sir. Please wait on the line while I page Dr. MacAllister.”

  Yes, he’d wait, Andrew thought. He’d wait for Kara to answer the page. He’d wait for Kara to trust him enough to tell him about her past, reveal her innermost secrets to him.

  But for the life of him, he couldn’t think of one good reason she would even consider doing that.

  “Oh, Kara,” Margaret whispered, “Robert looks so much better. See? There’s even a little color in his cheeks now.”

  “Yes, there is,” Kara said. “He’s sleeping peacefully, Aunt Margaret.”

  “Did you see the smile he gave me before he dozed off?” Margaret said, her eyes filling with tears. “That was my Robert.”

  “It was a beautiful loving smile,” Kara said, nodding. “It hasn’t been twenty-four hou
rs since Uncle Robert’s heart attack, but the specialists feel he is going to make it through this. Now that he’s out of intensive care, they’re discussing what tests they want to run and when they think he’ll be up to going through them. I’m so happy that—”

  The pager in the pocket of her white medical coat buzzed. She took it out and looked at the tiny screen on the top.

  “I have to call the hospital operator,” she said. “I’ll go out to the nurses’ station so I won’t disturb Uncle Robert.”

  “I’ll just sit here and watch him sleep,” Margaret said. “Will that be all right?”

  “Yes, that’s fine,” Kara said. “I know some of the family is here, but you’re the only visitor Uncle Robert is to have for now. The doctors were very emphatic about that. The others will have to be patient. It probably won’t be too long before they can see him. I’ll be back soon.”

  Kara hurried from the room and went to the nurses’ station. She lifted the receiver to the telephone and pressed a button.

  “Dr. MacAllister,” she said.

  “There’s an Andrew Malone holding on the line for you, Dr. MacAllister,” the woman said. “Shall I put his call through?”

  Andrew, Kara thought, a vivid image of him forming instantly in her mental vision. She’d dreamed about Andrew Malone. Sensual dreams. Dreams of being held in his arms, kissed and caressed by him. Dreams that had caused her to toss and turn in the narrow bed in the residents’ room. Dreams that had finally jolted her awake to discover that heated desire was pulsing low in her body.

  “Dr. MacAllister?” the operator said. “Are you still there?”

  “Oh. Oh, yes, I’m here. I’m sorry. Please put Mr. Malone’s call through. Thank you.”

  Kara depressed the button on the telephone and an instant later it rang. She lifted her hand again and saw that it was trembling slightly.

  “Dr. MacAllister,” she said, hoping her voice was steadier than it sounded to her own ears.

  “Kara? This is Andrew. How are you? And how is Robert?”

  “Uncle Robert regained consciousness early this morning,” she said. “He’s in a private room now and sleeping peacefully. His doctors are very optimistic about his surviving the heart attack and are conferring as to what tests to run and when.”