by Lisa Dyson
Ashleigh’s hackles rose because he was right—she went on the offense. “What is it you think I want you to do, Kyle?” If he’d figured out that she wanted to know about his lawsuit, then she’d kick herself for being transparent.
“You tell me,” he spit. “Tell me exactly what you want from me.”
Angry tears clouded her vision at his uncharacteristic harshness, but she refused to show weakness. “I don’t want anything from you except some civility while I’m here.” She crossed her arms over her chest, rubbing at the goose bumps on her upper arms caused by her blatant lie.
“Done.”
“Good. Now what do you want from me?” she asked. “What can I do to make things easier?”
He barely paused long enough to consider his answer. “Go home. Go back to your precious new life.” His words slashed at her. “There are enough people around to take care of things here.”
She could barely speak over the lump in her throat. She should fight him, except she was tired of arguing. And anyway, wasn’t that what she wanted? To return to her life in Richmond and not look back?
“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” She straightened her spine, surprised by her own words. “Well, think again. You can’t tell me what to do. This is my family and I’m not going anywhere.”
“You’d rather risk Paula’s health by sticking around?”
Ashleigh couldn’t believe he’d said that. “That’s not what I’m doing. I’m taking care of her boys so she can rest like she’s supposed to.”
Kyle didn’t say anything, simply turned to his truck.
She didn’t want to leave the conversation unfinished. “Wait.” This time she did touch his sleeve. His bicep flexed at the contact.
He clicked his truck locks open as his head spun around. In the low light, she could see he wasn’t immune to her. His breathing accelerated and the heat coming off his body intensified.
She drew her hand back when she realized the same was true for herself.
He grabbed her hand and jerked her close, his eyes fixed on hers. She couldn’t pull her gaze away, no matter how much she tried.
His body was solid and unyielding, as was his expression. He was furious. She placed a hand on his chest and he swore. His mouth was hot and rough when it captured hers. Her eyes closed and her world tilted.
Their issues were put on hold. No hurt, no betrayal, no misunderstandings.
Only lust. Pure, unadulterated lust.
She’d spent the past two years avoiding thoughts of them together like this and now the heat was spreading through her body like a spark to kindling.
If she stopped to dwell on all she’d lost, there would have been pain. Indescribable agony. Now here she was, rediscovering the magic between them, reviving the sexual claim they had on each other with no thought about where this was headed or what the consequences might be.
No thought whatsoever.
Her arms encircled his waist and her splayed hands moved upward, recognizing his solid back muscles by touch alone. Her fingers moved then, to the deep ridge in his lower back where his firm backside began. All the while, his mouth was doing delicious things to hers, as if the past few years hadn’t happened.
Perhaps they had a chance at civility after all.
Kyle drew away abruptly, taking a step backward. They stood a foot or more apart. A sudden chill enveloped her.
“Sorry.” His tone was gruff as he ran a hand through his hair. “That shouldn’t have happened.”
He turned his back to her, missing her hand fly up to cover her silent, openmouthed gasp.
He retrieved his keys from the curb where they must have fallen when he grabbed her. Then he continued with purpose around the truck to the driver’s side.
His door was halfway open when she said, “Kyle?”
He stopped, his expression unreadable in the darkness.
Her heart sank. Not only had she gotten the wrong message from his kiss, but now things between them had definitely gotten more complicated.
If that was even possible.
“Never mind,” she whispered.
CHAPTER FOUR
PAULA HAD BEEN in and out of bed all night. Why couldn’t OBs understand that complete bed rest was virtually impossible when your pregnancy bladder acted like an alarm clock? Of course, every time she got out of bed and moved around it woke Bam-Bam, who was instantly ready to shake, rattle and roll.
Nothing like a kick in the ribs to keep you awake.
She finally gave up and decided to read for a while, but she must have fallen asleep because a knock on her bedroom door startled her awake.
“Come in.” Daylight peeked through the front window where the curtains met and the book she’d been reading lay across her chest. She searched the covers for her bookmark and set the book next to her.
Ashleigh entered, carrying a tray that, from the delicious smell, must be breakfast.
“Good morning.” Ashleigh’s words sounded more cheerful than her expression conveyed. “I hope you still like eggs on a raft. I came to ask you before I started cooking, but you were asleep.”
“I haven’t had that in years!” Paula’s ho-hum attitude changed slightly for the better. “The boys like scrambled eggs, so that’s what I usually fix.”
Ashleigh set the tray down. Along with the poached eggs on toast were hot tea, orange juice and blueberry yogurt. Perfect, just like Ashleigh.
“You didn’t have to go to so much trouble.” Paula pushed aside her mental insults because she couldn’t wait to dig in. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Ashleigh helped Paula get the tray settled and glanced around the bedroom. “Is there anything else you need? The boys are finishing breakfast and I started a load of laundry.”
Paula swallowed her first mouthful of food and shook her head. “No, this is wonderful.” She cut off another bite of toast and ran it through the perfectly done yolk. “Grandma used to make this for us.”
Ashleigh’s eyebrows rose. “I remember.”
She probably hadn’t expected Paula to solicit a conversation, but what the heck. They needed to start somewhere. This pregnancy still had several weeks to go.
“Remember that day she spent so much time teaching us how to crack eggs without breaking the yolk?” Ashleigh’s hint of a smile at the memory seemed genuine.
“And the number of eggs we wasted!” Paula took a sip of tea and it sloshed close to the edge of the mug when she unexpectedly chuckled. “We must have gone through close to two dozen and there was more shell than egg in the bowl.”
“Then Grandpa came into the kitchen, asking what all the racket was about.” Ashleigh’s lips curved into a smile. “And we were astonished when he demonstrated his perfect, one-handed crack of an egg. That day he became my hero.”
Paula sobered, recalling her deceased grandparents’ loving relationship. “I remember the way he always looked at Grandma and I used to think, ‘That’s how I want my husband to look at me.’ I was about eight or nine at the time.”
“That’s exactly what you’ve got,” Ashleigh reminded her in a quiet voice.
“I know. We both have men like that.” The words escaped Paula’s mouth before she realized what she was saying. “I didn’t mean—”
Ashleigh stiffened, crossed her arms over her chest and turned toward the bedroom door. She did an immediate one-eighty. “I need to say something.”
Paula had an apology ready on her lips, but instead she waited for Ashleigh to continue before making things worse.
“I know it’s awkward having me around but I’m not leaving.” Ashleigh kept her eyes averted. “I’m here for the duration.”
That was the last thing Paula expected Ashleigh to say. “Where did that come from?”
Ashleigh’s lips quivered as she spoke. “Kyle and I—” She cleared her throat. “We talked last night. He wants me to go back to Richmond. That way there would be less stress on you.”
Paula couldn’t believe her ears. She hadn’t wanted Ashleigh here in the first place, but she’d known it was for the best. Not because she and the boys needed someone they could count on, but because she and Ashleigh needed to work things out.
“Kyle said that?” Paula’s words came out harsher than she’d intended. “You know, I’m getting pretty sick and tired of everyone making decisions for me without even consulting me.”
“He just wants what’s best for you—we both do,” Ashleigh said.
“We?” Paula spoke sharply, her temper flaring. “Since when are you and Kyle we?” She could feel herself becoming irrational, but it ticked her off that everyone was ganging up on her.
“Paula—”
“I don’t want to hear any more.” She’d lost her appetite and shoved the food tray to the other side of the bed.
Paula didn’t want anyone’s help. She wanted to manage on her own like she always did.
The mix of emotions flowing through her was enough to make her want to bawl her eyes out. But she’d be damned if she’d give Ashleigh the satisfaction of knowing she’d upset her.
“You really should eat.”
Paula stared at Ashleigh until she silently picked up the tray and stood at the end of the bed as if waiting for Paula to say more.
Instead, Paula got her oversize, pregnant self out of bed and walked into the bathroom with her head held high. She slammed the door, essentially ending the conversation with the stranger who had never felt less like a sister than right at that moment.
* * *
KYLE TOOK A healthy swig of coffee in the nearly empty hospital cafeteria. His cell phone rang. The caller ID read “Paula” so he answered immediately.
“Is everything okay?” His heart rate accelerated. Paula rarely called, preferring to text instead.
“No,” Paula barked into his ear. “Everything is not okay.”
Was she in labor? He didn’t have a chance to ask before she continued. “What right do you have telling Ashleigh to go home?”
This was not good. How much did Paula know about last night? “So you’re okay? Physically?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Still pregnant, still on bed rest, and now I’m ticked off. What did you say to Ashleigh?”
“I thought you didn’t want her here.” Kyle remembered to moderate his voice in the public cafeteria.
“I don’t,” she shot back. “But she’s my sister, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“No, I haven’t forgotten,” he said gently. “Do you want me to ask her to stay?” Please say no. After he’d kissed Ashleigh last night, he’d wanted to kick himself.
He’d also wanted to kiss her again, and again, if truth be told. He’d always been physically attracted to her, no matter what was going on emotionally.
“It doesn’t matter.” Paula’s voice caught. “She told me she’s here for the duration. Even if I asked her to go, she wouldn’t. Not that she’s ever listened to me.” A sound like a sob came from Paula.
“Are you crying?” He couldn’t tell if she was angry or sad, but he knew better than to point out her irrationality.
Another sob. “No, I’m not crying,” she said before succumbing to actual crying.
“Listen, would it help if I talked to her and apologized?”
“I don’t care. I’m tired of people plotting behind my back.”
“You know that’s not what we’re doing.”
“Really?”
“We’re trying to do our best for you and your baby.”
Paula sniffled. “I know. I’m sorry.” She sobbed, a choking sound that nearly broke Kyle’s heart. “I just want to be back in charge of my life.”
Kyle grasped for something to say. “This will all be over soon and you’ll forget about the bad stuff when you hold your baby.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Paula ended the call and Kyle wasn’t sure if he was supposed to talk to Ashleigh or not.
* * *
LATER THAT MORNING, after Ashleigh got the boys off to school and knew Paula would be okay until lunchtime, she headed out to run some errands. Paula’s stress level would be lower without Ashleigh hanging around. Besides, she had her cell phone with her if an emergency arose.
First off was her pediatric practice to see how things were going.
“Good morning, Dr. Wilson.” Cammie Varrone, the fortysomething office manager, greeted her with a welcoming smile. “I didn’t realize you were in town.”
Ashleigh returned her smile. “I’m helping out my sister. She’s having some pregnancy complications.” That sounded like a reasonable answer, as long as no one asked about her relationship with her sister.
“Tell her we’re wishing her well and let us know if we can do anything.”
“That’s very kind of you,” Ashleigh said. “Is Dr. Mitchell in?”
“He’s returning calls in his office. His first patient isn’t due for another fifteen minutes.”
Ashleigh pointed to the closed door that led to her father’s office when he’d owned the practice. “I’ll peek in for just a minute.”
She knocked quietly on the door and heard, “Come in.” She slowly opened the door and stuck her head in the room.
Stan Mitchell’s eyes widened and he smiled. He held up one finger and ended his phone call. “Let me know if the fever continues with the new antibiotic.” He hung up the phone, rose slowly from his chair and came around the desk. “Come in, come in! It’s so good to see you!” He hugged Ashleigh and it crossed her mind that this man she didn’t know that well was giving her such a warm welcome, while others she’d known for years had barely acknowledged her presence.
He held her at arm’s length and looked at her. “So how are you? What brings you here?”
She quickly updated him on her life and explained in minimal terms why she was in town. Yet, during their conversation, she got the distinct feeling that there was something wrong with Stan.
“Are you feeling all right?”
“Busy as usual,” he said. “You know how it is.”
When Ashleigh moved to Richmond, Stan had taken over the pediatric practice she’d inherited from her father upon his death. Stan had grown up in Grand Oaks but had spent his medical career at a children’s hospital on the West Coast. The high stress level had worn him down, so he’d gratefully accepted the position in Grand Oaks.
“Well, just make sure you’re taking care of yourself.” Ashleigh wasn’t convinced he was simply overworked. “I can help out while I’m in town, you know. Come in a few hours a day to give you a break.”
“What about your sister? I thought you were here for her.” At least Stan didn’t give her a flat-out no.
“She doesn’t need me twenty-four seven—in fact she’d probably like the break. The boys are in school during the day, so I can come in the morning, go home to get Paula lunch and then come back for an hour or two until the boys get home.”
Stan lowered himself onto the corner of the desk. “If you think you can do it all, then I’d be grateful. I am feeling kind of worn-out these days. My wife’s been complaining that I barely have enough energy to eat dinner.” He laughed, but Ashleigh’s concern heightened. “I probably need some B vitamins to perk me up.”
They set up a schedule for the rest of the week and Ashleigh went on her way. Other than forcing him into a doctor’s office for a physical, she wasn’t sure what else she could have done. Next time she saw him, though, she’d push the physical idea. One step at a time.
* * *
AFTER A QUIET MORNING in the E.R., th
ere had been a sudden rush of patients when Kyle was about to take an early lunch break. Now it was nearly one and his starvation was finally appeased after finishing a turkey sub and two apples.
“There you are.” The young female voice behind Kyle startled him. “You didn’t answer your page so they sent me to look for you.”
He turned to answer the young student nurse. “What’s up, Katelyn?” He checked the beeper at his waist, wondering why he hadn’t felt it. He must have been really hungry not to notice.
“Dr. Mitchell was brought into the E.R. with an apparent heart attack. Ms. Snyder thought you’d like to know,” she said, referring to the E.R. ward clerk.
“Stan Mitchell?” The guy was in his mid-fifties. At the girl’s timid bob of her head, Kyle rose from his chair, nearly knocking it over in the process. “Thanks,” he said over his shoulder, and hurried through the busy hallways to the E.R.
“What’s Dr. Mitchell’s status?” he asked breathlessly of the E.R. ward clerk.
“He’s in curtain three,” she said. “His wife is over there.” She pointed toward the waiting room where a petite blonde was wringing her hands.
Kyle turned on his heel to speak to Stan’s wife, unable to recall her first name. He pulled a metal chair closer to the youthful-looking woman probably in her mid-forties and sat. “I’m Kyle Jennings, Mrs. Mitchell. Stan took over my ex-wife’s pediatric practice.” The term “ex-wife” would never flow smoothly off his tongue.
She nodded her head. “Yes, I remember you. We met at that hospital fund-raiser.” Her eyes were red and puffy. “Is Stan going to be okay? One minute he was talking to me at lunch and the next—”
“I’m going to see how he’s doing and I’ll let you know.” Kyle stood and put a hand on her shoulder. He squeezed it gently before hurrying off to curtain three.
The E.R. doctor on duty exited from Stan’s curtained area. “How is he?” Kyle asked.
“Lucky,” Chuck Borden answered. “His wife was with him and was able to get the first responders there quickly. She did chest compressions until they took over. They almost lost him in the ambulance.”
Unbelievable. The cardiologist on duty would order tests to find out how much damage Stan’s heart had endured. At least now he had a good chance of recovery.