Or maybe it was a girl. Girls jumped into mounds of leaves, didn’t they? Sure, they did. They probably didn’t get all prissy and do the don’t-get-me-dirty thing until they hit adolescence. Yeah, sure, the little girl would play in the leaves with the boy and the dog.
The day would be crisp with a hint of winter in the air, and Kara would prepare the perfect meal to match the weather—grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup, which they all would consume hungrily in front of a roaring fire in the hearth.
The kids—hey, even the dog—would be tired from the hours of playing in the leaves and would be bathed and put to bed early, after prayers were said and a story read.
Then he and Kara would be alone in front of the romantic fire and they’d—
“That’s it. That’s all. I have no intention of ever raking leaves for kids to jump into,” Andrew said, throwing back the sheet and blanket on the bed.
His feet hid the floor with a thud, and he strode across the room toward the bathroom.
“Besides that,” he fumed, “there aren’t piles of leaves and a freezing-cold winter to hint at in Ventura. Ventura? Hell, I don’t even live in Ventura. I’m losing it. I’ve lost it. I’m out of my mind.”
Andrew slammed the bathroom door behind him, erecting a barrier between him and the fantasies his wandering mind had created.
Kara’s office was in a row of buildings that formed a small strip mall just off one of the main streets of Ventura. It had been converted to a doctor’s office years before by a physician who had chosen to retire just when Kara was searching for a place to open her practice.
It was fate, Kara had decided, when she signed the lease. The retiring physician was also a general practitioner, so she inherited many of his longtime patients. Her own reputation for excellence, as well as her genuine caring, increased her caseload and the number of appointments scheduled each day.
Lucy, Kara’s receptionist, had worked for the previous doctor for thirty years, and was now a plump smiling grandmother in her late fifties, who ran the office like a well-oiled machine.
Kara greeted Lucy upon arriving and accepted the cup of coffee Lucy handed her. Kara then hurried to her private office at the end of the corridor. She closed the door, took a sip of the cinnamon-flavored coffee, then set the mug on her desk.
After changing into a pale-blue medical jacket, Kara glanced at the mirror hanging behind the closed door. She hesitated, then crossed the room tentatively, finally standing in front of the mirror and leaning forward to scrutinize her reflection.
That, she thought, a warm flush creeping onto her cheeks, is the face of a woman who has been well and truly, exquisitely and wondrously, made love to.
Her eyes were clear and sparkling. Her skin had a dewy glow and a slight telltale pink strip of tender skin that had been close, very close, to a beard-roughened face.
Oh, heavens, she might as well shout from the rooftops that she had made beautiful love with Andrew Malone.
“Don’t be silly,” she told her image in the mirror. “No one will be able to tell. Your imagination is working overtime.”
Shaking her head at her own foolishness, she sank into the creaky leather chair behind her desk that the old doctor had left behind for her use. She cradled the coffee mug in both hands and settled against the soft leather, staring into space.
Andrew, her mind hummed. She’d hated to leave him, missed him already, had used all her willpower to walk out of the bedroom this morning as he’d gazed at her with desire radiating from his eyes, and his naked body beckoning to be touched.
Heat consumed her like a rushing current, and she could feel the pulse of desire begin to throb low in her body. She glanced quickly at the closed door, ordered herself to get a grip, then drank some more of the delicious coffee.
Andrew was definitely front-row center in her mind, she admitted to herself, and it wasn’t just because of the lovemaking they had shared. No, oh, no, it was due to much more than that.
They had trusted each other with their innermost secrets, had revealed painful memories of the past. They had listened to what the other was saying, to what was most important to them. They had given each other a rare and special gift; they’d cared about the other’s sorrows, had let the other know that they mattered.
“Oh, Kara,” she said, shaking her head, “what are you doing? You’re treading in dangerous waters, madam, and you’d better slow down and watch your step.”
Andrew had become so important to her so very quickly, was such an intricate part of her life and her…her fantasies.
She would never forget how she’d felt as she’d stood in the nursery at the hospital watching Andrew holding the baby she hoped would become her son, talking to the infant, telling him about the bike that he had worked so hard for and how having it handed to him by his aunt Clara had diminished his enjoyment of the bicycle.
In that moment she had envisioned Andrew as a loving father to that baby, a wonderful daddy. And she would be the baby’s mother and…and Andrew’s wife.
And that was ridiculous.
And those were very dangerous fantasies to indulge in.
In her ever-increasing unguarded moments, Andrew was chipping away at the protective wall she had built around her heart many many years before. She’d lowered that wall as a teenager to embrace the love of the MacAllister family, to bask in their warmth and honesty and genuine love for her.
Over the years she’d begun to yearn for more, wanted to create a family unit of her own. But each time she envisioned trusting a man with her heart and happiness, a chill would course through her as dark images of Rick would surface from deep within her.
She’d skittered around the issue of a special man in her life and begun to dream of being a mother, providing a home for a child no one wanted, just as no one had wanted her when she was small. She would attempt to adopt this baby, not to replace Gloria, never that, but to reawaken her maternal instincts that had been snuffed out before they could fully blossom.
Kara set the mug on the desk and sank back in the chair again, staring at the ceiling.
She was terrified of loving, falling in love, because of a poor choice she made at sixteen? She was still allowing Rick to rule her life all these many years later?
This was the first time she’d taken a really close look at her determination not to commit herself to a serious relationship with a man. She’d just known it wasn’t right for her, that she needed to protect herself against that type of entanglement. She had accepted that knowledge without question. Because of what she had done as an unhappy, angry, confused teenager?
Kara wrapped her hands around her elbows and frowned deeply.
Why hadn’t she examined her innermost feelings on this subject long ago, dealt with it, put the ugly memories to rest?
She sighed and closed her eyes.
Because, she thought dismally, there had been no reason to. There had never been a man in her life who even gave her a fleeting thought of marriage, never a man who caused her to fantasize about hearth and home, and forever and ever.
Until now.
Until Andrew Malone.
“Oh, Kara,” she said, shaking her head, “you are in deep, deep trouble here.”
The intercom on the desk buzzed, causing Kara to jump. She leaned forward and pressed the button on the small box.
“Yes, Lucy?”
“Duty calls. Your first patient is here.”
Thank goodness, Kara thought. Now she could concentrate on someone else’s problems and escape from the turmoil in her own mind.
“I’ll be right there,” she said. “Oh, Lucy, please remember that you’re to interrupt me no matter what if there is a call from the hospital about my uncle Robert.” She paused. “And, Lucy? I’ll take any calls from a Mr. Malone, too.”
“Got it,” Lucy said. “Over and out.”
Kara got to her feet and smoothed her jacket. She squared her shoulders, lifted her chin and headed for the door, won
dering if in addition to appearing like a woman who had engaged in fantastic lovemaking, it would also be apparent that she was teetering on the edge of her sanity.
Chapter 10
Andrew strolled through the busy mall, allowing the bustling shoppers to move around him as he glanced absently into the store windows he passed.
Kara had telephoned him at his hotel earlier, and in a breathless, excited voice, had told him that Robert’s surgery had been a success and that the doctors were extremely pleased with her uncle’s vital signs.
“Uncle Robert is going to be all right, Andrew,” Kara had said. “He’ll be put on a strict diet, which will probably make him as grumpy as a bear, and will have a program of exercises set up specifically for him, but if he behaves himself, he’ll be as good as new. Oh, I’m so relieved. The whole family feels as though a tremendous weight has been lifted from our shoulders.”
“I feel the same way,” Andrew had said quietly. “Believe me, I really do.”
“I know you do,” Kara said. “Listen, I still can’t say when I’ll be free. I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Sure, that’s fine.”
“Bye for now.”
And that had been that, Andrew thought, stopping in front of a sports-equipment store and staring at the display in the window.
A part of him had registered a tremendous sense of relief that Robert MacAllister was going to survive the heart attack and subsequent surgery.
But another section of him had felt a letdown of sorts.
Andrew sighed and continued on his way, halting next in front of a store that sold gourmet food in fancy boxes, tins and various other containers.
He now knew why he’d been bummed, he thought. He’d paced restlessly around his hotel room long enough to figure it out, then had gotten cabin fever and headed for the door to escape from the four walls and the realization he’d made.
The truth of the matter was he no longer had a legitimate reason to stay in Ventura. He had no intention of pursuing his original mission of demanding that Robert MacAllister acknowledge his abandonment of Sally Malone so many years before. He didn’t plan to see or speak to Robert again.
He’d caused enough damage and wasn’t about to repeat his performance. There was nothing to be gained by it. He never should have come to Ventura in the first place.
But if he hadn’t, he never would have met Kara.
And Kara, Andrew thought, frowning as he trudged through the mall, was why his euphoria at the good news regarding Robert had shifted so dramatically to bleak emptiness in practically the next breath.
It was time to return to Santa Maria, get on with his life, step back into the role of owner of Malone Construction and get caught up on all the appointments he’d had his secretary cancel.
It was time to go.
And he’d never see Kara MacAllister again.
A vivid image of Kara flashed before his mental vision, and Andrew’s breath caught. He saw her laughing, smiling, then gazing at him with eyes radiating a depth of desire that matched his own. The picture in his mind was so vivid, it was as though she was there with him, was about to fling herself into his arms to receive his kiss.
Heat rocketed through Andrew’s body, and he glanced around quickly, certain that everyone passing could read his passion-laden mind. But no one was paying one bit of attention to him. He was just a guy who probably appeared to be killing time while his wife shopped somewhere in the busy mall.
Wife, his mind echoed. No, he didn’t want one of those, thank you very much. He didn’t want a wife, or kids who played in piles of leaves, or a dog. He didn’t want to fall in love, be expected to make a commitment to forever, have to live each day wondering if the happiness would last.
He didn’t want to be Kara’s husband.
He wanted to be her lover, her friend, have a special place in her life for…well, a while. He wasn’t ready to walk out of her existence yet. Not yet. Eventually, sure, just as he did with any woman he became involved with, but damn it, not yet.
Still, facts were facts, and his stay in Ventura was at an end.
“Well, hell,” Andrew said aloud, causing an elderly lady who was passing to glare at him.
Andrew moved to the next store window and found himself looking at a display of baby clothes.
Man, he thought, look at that stuff. It was so small it was incredible. There sure was a bunch of it. There was a frilly pink dress that had tiny bows, and a miniature baseball suit, complete with a cap.
A small smile tugged at Andrew’s lips.
That baseball outfit would be perfect for that little baby he’d held in the nursery. That kiddo was fighting the battle of his life, and he was going to make it, by damn. Rough start or not, that scrapper would be just fine.
He hoped.
Yeah, he really did want that baby to be all right, have a chance at a decent life, be the recipient of a huge serving of happiness and love.
He’d like to buy the little guy that baseball suit, Andrew thought, as a symbol of stepping up to the plate and meeting life head on. And winning. Beating the odds, making it—big time.
Forget it, Andrew thought, shaking his head in self-disgust. Kara would think he was completely nuts if he showed up at the hospital with a baseball suit for a baby he didn’t even know.
But, damn it, he did know him. He’d held him, fed him, told him about the bike, that long-ago, yearned-for bike, which Clara had diminished in value and meaning. He hadn’t even realized he remembered that bike until he’d started telling the story of it to the baby.
If you want something, work hard for it, earn it yourself, deserve to have it, and it will mean more to you in the end. That was what he’d told the baby, who had slept through his sermon on the subject. But it was true, was the philosophy he’d lived by ever since he’d been old enough to understand it.
He’d waited, worked hard for patience, kept silent when he would have urged Kara to speak, to divulge her innermost secrets. And when she’d finally come to trust him enough, she had shared with him the sad and poignant tale of her youth. She’d given him that gift, and it meant more to him than he would ever be able to put into words.
Andrew nodded.
That minuscule baseball suit represented a lot of important messages about life—at least to him. It didn’t even matter if anyone else understood the meaning of those inches of cloth. He would know, and he wanted that baby in the nursery, the first baby he’d ever held, fed, interacted with, to have it.
“Forget it, Malone,” he muttered, then spun around and strode away.
After Andrew had gone about twenty feet, his step slowed, then stopped. He swore under his breath, turned again and retraced his path. After one more long look at the little striped suit in the window, he pulled open the door and entered the store.
Nature was painting the heavens in sunset colors of pink, purple and gold when Kara hurried across the parking lot toward the front doors of the hospital.
She was a study in frustration, she admitted to herself, and would have to work on a cheerful attitude, complete with beaming smile, before she saw Uncle Robert.
But, darn it, the day had started out so marvelously, so exceptionally, when she’d wakened at dawn to see Andrew sleeping peacefully next to her in her bed.
Except for the fantastic news that Robert was going to be just fine, the day had gone downhill after she’d left her apartment with the taste of Andrew lingering on her lips and desire thrumming low in her body.
A multitude of her patients had apparently taken personal inventory of their bodies as part of their New Year’s resolutions and had decided they just didn’t feel up to par. They had to see Dr. MacAllister today, not tomorrow. Today.
Lucy had squeezed as many extra patients as she could into an already busy schedule, and Kara had operated at top speed the entire day. She’d spoken to Andrew briefly to tell him of the success of Robert’s surgery, but when she grabbed a moment to telephone him later, he
hadn’t been in his room at the hotel.
She had no idea where he was, and so was unable to confirm plans to be with him later that night. She was weary, hungry and most definitely pouting because seeing Andrew was not etched in stone.
“Smile, Kara,” she told herself. “Put on a happy, happy, happy face.”
The doors to the hospital swished open, and her brother Richard stepped out into the crisp evening.
“Richard,” Kara said, her smile genuine as she stopped directly in front of him. “Talk about timing.” She frowned in the next instant. “Why am I smiling at you? You’re off the Richter scale angry at me.”
Richard gripped Kara’s shoulders and planted a loud smacking kiss on her forehead.
“That is part of my apology,” he said. “The other is my saying I’m sorry I was such a pain about your talking to Andrew Malone.”
“Oh,” Kara said, surprised. “What changed your stand on the issue?”
“A stern lecture from our fierce aunt Margaret,” Richard said. “Whew. She really gave me what for. She said we all had the right to our own feelings and opinions regarding Andrew Malone, but none of us had license to stand in judgment of anyone else’s choices on the matter. Oh, yeah, and I’d better shape up or she’d smack my butt.”
“Awesome,” Kara said, laughing. “She’d do it, you know.”
“Oh, believe me, I know. Anyway, I really am sorry I came down so hard on you about Malone. Brother Jack also informed me that I was being a jerk. I was headed over to your office right now to say all this, since you hadn’t shown up here at the hospital. I have a plane to catch and didn’t want to leave town without setting things to rights between us.”
Kara stood on tiptoe and kissed Richard on the cheek.
“All is forgiven,” she said. “Where are you winging off to?”
“Anchorage, Alaska,” he said, frowning. “Is that grim or what? I was supposed to be there first thing this morning. I postponed leaving until I knew that Uncle Robert was going to be all right, but now I’ve really got to haul myself up there.
The Baby Bet: His Secret Son (The Baby Bet #5) Page 12