by Lyz Kelley
Underneath all the grit and steel, a good man existed. She turned toward Beth. “Branston doesn’t need checking on. He’s good on his own.”
“You sure?”
“Yep. I’m sure. He’s the superhero of the day. Nothing can touch him.”
“Then let’s go find a police officer and give a statement so we can get some food down you. You’re still a bit pale.”
Her stomach grumbled in response.
“That’s timely,” Beth laughed.
“Speaking of timely…”
Beth followed her gaze down the hall. Two men in suits marched toward them, perfectly, unconsciously synchronized. The intense air about them made people step back. “Looks like my army just arrived.”
“As I said, you Carvers are a tight bunch. They must be psychic, they got here so fast.”
“That or the company helicopter.” McKenzie smiled. “Hi, Dad. Liam. What brings you to the hospital today?”
Chapter 12
McKenzie’s heart pounded as she levered up onto her elbow and tried to free herself from the claws of a nightmare. When the midmorning sun streaming through her bedroom window registered, she flopped back down on the pillow. Home. Safe.
A frustrated groan released.
The mattress bounced with George’s arrival. He delivered a typical head-butt greeting, but his intense eye-to-eye stare meant he was worried.
“I’m okay. You should be used to this by now.” She scratched his ears and slid him across her chest for a cuddle. The rustling of paper caused her to remember.
Dozens of incomplete sketches littered the bed. A partial image of Garrett holding a baby—not just any baby, holding Ellie—emerged in chalk on the closest page. The bold, agitated lines somehow created a soft, gentle image of the pair.
Part of her wanted to erase the man, another part wanted to deepen the bold lines and create clarity. Her increased fascination with his body, his interaction with kids, and the sexual curiosity were unnerving. She threw back the covers and launched vertically, gripping the window frame to steady her semi-conscious body.
Outside, the day had already begun for everyone else. Below, the New York streets buzzed and blared with life. The city’s energy had always raised her spirits. Today it did the opposite. She dragged with exhaustion. Her thoughts drifted back to Garrett, and the comfort she’d found in his arms. She liked that feeling, liked it a lot—liked it too much.
George, sensing her moody turmoil, brushed against her ankle before flopping on top of her bare feet, his belly exposed.
“You’re such a needy boy.” She leaned toward his Batman ears. Before her fingertips touched his fur, the doorbell rang. The unexpected noise sent George into a panic. He rolled, his three legs already in motion, and scurried under the bed.
She slipped a thick blue fleece bathrobe around her shoulders. The fearless cat peeked at her from under the covers. “You’re supposed to be my protector—you ninny. And look at you. Mr. Pathetic. That’s your new name. Mr. P.”
She made a face at the feline, shook her head, and then made her way to the front door. A familiar blue pinstriped, European-cut suit appeared in the frame of the door’s peephole. She removed the chain, and then released the locks.
“What are you doing here?” she questioned her brother without expectation of a direct answer.
Liam thrust a Burt’s Bagel bag in her direction before moving down the hall. “I had a hankering for some of your special tea. You seem to have the best assortment in the city,” he said over his shoulder while heading for the kitchen.
“You know that’s not true, Mr. Connoisseur-of-fine-leaves. Why are you here?” she pressed for an honest answer.
“Nice jams.” Liam pointed at the flying pig flannel pajama fabric layered under her robe. He dropped his overcoat and briefcase on a kitchen stool. “Mom wants you to call her. And you need to clear your voicemail. It’s full,” he chastised in that annoying brotherly tone.
Frustration churned in her empty stomach. “Why is it that both you and Weston can be incognito for weeks, but I must check in daily?”
He retrieved two mugs from the cabinet and warmed the cups with the hot water dispenser before refilling and dropping in tea bags. He passed a handmade, earth-toned pottery mug to her before leaning a hip against the counter. Bergamot and a hint of orange wafted around the kitchen. “You really need an answer to that ridiculous question? Ouch. You little monster.” Liam drew back his leg.
“Don’t you dare kick George.”
“I wasn’t going to kick your cat, but someone should tell him his guerilla tactics aren’t manly. At least he’s loyal. He hates everyone, everyone except you.”
“And Garrett.” Her lips puckered with regret. Mentioning the doctor or his acquaintance with George was a critical error in judgment. She clutched her cup tighter.
His eyebrows lifted on cue, and then his eyes opened wider. “Garrett. That monster likes the guy you swear irritates you, whom you can’t stand, and who brings you sunflowers? Figures.”
“Who told you he brought me flowers?” She drummed her fingers on the counter. “Stu?” Her brother’s eyebrow lift suggested she’d guessed right. “He only brought me flowers because I helped him pass the board review.”
“Fancy that. Your fake fiancé brought you flowers, but those things weren’t because of your coaching, and you know it.”
“If you say so.” She stuck her tongue out at him.
The good doctor and her mother were two topics she didn’t want to discuss, much less think about this morning, or any morning.
Dodging her mother always proved to be difficult, but McKenzie didn’t want to go shopping, to the spa, the museum, or anywhere else fashionable. She wanted to be left alone. She wanted to think. She wanted to figure out how to change her life. The hospital incident reminded her how short life could be, and she didn’t want to live in a bubble of fear anymore.
“Would you be sweet and tell Mother I’m busy?” she asked.
“I can see you’re busy. Its 10:30 and you’re still in your pajamas, and with those inch-wide black smudges under your eyes, it looks like you’re about to burst out onto the gridiron field with a football under your arm.”
She slid a finger beneath the edges of her lashes then studied her fingertips. “It’s mascara. I forgot to remove my makeup last night.” Or was it from the night before?
“Try again.” Liam’s gruff tone left no wiggle room.
“Okay. I was up late working on the painting for the charity ball that Mom requested.” Plus several other drawings, she added silently. “I slept, just not much.”
He crossed his arms but said nothing, letting the silence build until the intensity suffocated. Frustration bared its teeth, ready to bite and take a chunk out of her brother.
“All right, I’ll go take a shower. I promise.”
“You need to do more than take a shower. You need to get your butt out of this apartment. You’re hiding again.”
“I’m not hiding. Stop telling me what to do.”
“If I don’t, who will? You don’t take charge of your life.”
Her lips quivered, and she resolutely firmed them. “It’s my life and I get to choose.”
“Then choose. Do something. Anything. Just don’t quit life,” Liam said, setting his cup on the counter. “Don’t you give me that look. You know I’m right. And Mom wants what’s best for you. We all do.”
She pushed away from the counter, not willing to admit or deny anything. “Fine. I’ll take a shower. I need to go to the hospital anyway.”
“For another fertility checkup?”
Grabbing the counter’s edge for support, she whipped around to face her sibling with the fury of a hurricane force wind. “What if it is? I want a baby—to be a mother—to have a family of my own. Why can’t you understand that?”
“I’m trying. I am. But I don’t want you to compromise. Sometimes you have to let things happen. You can’t push.”
/> “You’ve never been in favor of me having a baby on my own.”
Liam wiggled an index finger in her direction. “That’s not true. I want something more for you.”
Her brother’s admission shattered her defensive argument and left her confused. “What is it you think I want?”
“You want a child of your own. I get that. I wouldn’t mind having a niece or nephew to spoil. But I wanted…I want only the best for you.” His sincerity filled the room with warmth, and he paused, and then captured her hand. “In the past three years, you haven’t let a guy within ten feet. And spending all your time in the apartment or hiding in the bowels of the hospital isn’t healthy. I’m tired of others asking how you are. You need to go out with friends. You need to answer your phone once in a while.”
His eyes softened. “If a child makes you happy, great, but I believe a good man and as many kids as you can fit into this place, would be the best combination. You deserve the most life has to offer. Call me selfish for wanting you to have everything.”
“That’s typical—you thinking a woman can’t be complete without a man.”
“Believe me, there are plenty of women out there who’d do fine without, but I know you. You’ve always searched for a connection. You’re one-half of a whole, and until you find him, I don’t think you’ll ever be happy.”
“I can’t go there.”
“Give it time.”
Give it time, right. God, she wanted to scream. Life could change in a flash—she understood it better than most—and she didn’t want to take any chances. She didn’t want to go through years of counseling to prepare for LoveMatch.com, followed up with years of dating, before getting married and starting a family. Every second counted.
“Next month’s my thirtieth birthday. The clock is ticking. I want to be young enough to keep up with my children. It’s now or never.”
“If you’re old, what does that make me? I’m just a few years younger.”
“Men are different.”
“I’m glad you noticed.” He laughed.
Not wanting to laugh or feel, she made a face at him in response. His attempted humor hadn’t gone unnoticed or unappreciated. She smiled to make her brother feel better.
Liam nudged her. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Bug. I’ll always be on your side, even if you don’t like what I have to say. Remember that.”
She reached for her tea to help choke down the rising emotions. She could push him away, but she’d never be alone. The Carver solidarity made the family a formidable force.
“What about Branston?” Liam slid the question her way. “I thought you liked him. If you play your cards right, who knows?”
“What does Garrett have to do with starting a family?”
“Male sperm, female eggs. They seem to go together, no matter how you come by them.”
Lowering her arm, she placed the teacup on the counter so she wouldn’t be tempted to bash Liam’s head with her precious piece of art. “I’m not having this discussion with you. You need to leave so I can finish Mom’s painting and the storyboards for Weston’s project.”
“Maybe you should take a break, and—”
“Stop.” She closed her eyes and counted one, two, three. When she got to ten, she figured additional counting wouldn’t relieve the burning desire to blister her brother with a few choice words. Avoiding the discussion wouldn’t help either. He’d keep pushing.
“Weren’t you the one just a few weeks ago pushing me to come back to work?”
“That was different.”
“Why, because you thought my resignation was a spur of the moment thing? It wasn’t,” she clutched the warm mug to her chest to soothe the swirling emotions. “Look, I’ve already got some ideas germinating. Let me at least finish this project, and then we can revisit my resignation. Right now, I want to stay busy.”
“You took a leave of absence. You didn’t quit. Remember?” Liam’s forceful words left no room for argument. “You’re good at designing campaigns. Your last product launch was brilliant,” he said in a softer, more congenial tone.
Her mind drifted back to the conversation—fight—with Liam and Weston. Her oldest brother hadn’t agreed to accept her resignation, even though he’d asked Teresa from Human Resources the next day to forward several replacement resumes to McKenzie for review.
Replacement seemed like such a harsh word.
That day, uncertainty sloshed around in her empty stomach, but not anymore. Change was required. However, what that precisely meant, she hadn’t quite formulated in her mind. She wanted to slow down. Beginning work at sixteen and working hard, studying hard, accepting more and more and more responsibility, were all she knew.
“My last two marketing campaigns were mediocre at best. You’re biased.”
“Oh, contraire. I tell it like it is. Ask my staff.”
“Then go harass them. I have things to do.” Why was it she surrounded herself with overconfident, arrogant men? She wondered what he would do if she plastered him with a soggy tea bag right between the eyes. Then again, the effort might stain his crisp white shirt and her favorite purple-striped tie.
He took a long sip of tea, a pompous glint permeating his features. “So what about the doctor?”
She’d hoped he’d forgotten about Garrett. “Drop it.”
“Have you kissed him?”
“Since when do you have a right to ask that kind of question?”
With a quirky grin on his face, he retrieved his briefcase, dropped his coat over his arm, and turned toward the front door. “Are you sure you’re going to have a painting ready for the hospital charity ball next week? Mom’s in full-blown fuss mode, and is worried the donation won’t be ready in time.”
An irritated sigh escaped before she could stuff it down. “Tell her to stop worrying. It will be done.”
Liam opened the front door and stepped into the hall. “Weston has ordered extra security for you, just in case.”
“What? No. Come on. The last guy you assigned hung so tight it made my control top pantyhose feel loose. Branston has already agreed to go. I’ll be fine.”
He pushed the elevator button and turned back. “Love you, Bug.”
“Come on. Pretty please. No security.”
The elevator doors closed, cutting off her last word. She closed the apartment door and secured the chains and bolts, and then leaned her head against the solid wood.
Staying in pajamas all day and painting sounded like paradise, but her mother, or another family member, would call, disturbing her bliss. She moved back toward her studio, her sanctuary—her jail.
Chalk lines of Garrett’s bold nose, a partial pair of lips, and an outstretched hand covered dozens of sample pages strewn across her desk.
She stroked the edges of the heavy linen paper. “I can’t avoid you, can I?”
It wasn’t hard to imagine the whole man. His broad shoulders and those perfectly shaped dimples. Sensual tingles floated through her, lingering and massaging every aspect of her senses. She couldn’t admit these intimate thoughts were why she’d withdrawn, stayed away from the hospital. His magnetic pull broke through her fear and created a connection, a connection she didn’t want to deal with—yet.
Self-denial she’d ponder later.
Her eyes drifted to the partially painted canvas. Linseed oil and paint thinner hung in the air. The partial shapes, the soft edges, the tender scene of a man holding a child.
There lay the problem.
Now she had a clear and lascivious image of the doctor—naked.
Chapter 13
“Look who graced us with her presence.” Beth moved around the edge of the nurses’ station and gave McKenzie a suffocating squeeze. “I haven’t seen you in, what, a week?”
“Five days doesn’t make a full week.” McKenzie fought the urge to push away. “I’ve been in to check on Ellie.”
Beth leaned back and squinted, her brows arced downward. “Not on my sh
ift, you haven’t.”
“You’re not here at two-thirty.”
“I’ve been here every day.”
She cringed. “A.M., not P.M.”
Beth’s mouth fell open just a breath before her brows linked. “Let’s take a walk.”
The hurt in her friend’s eyes smacked her upside the head. Avoiding Garrett and the sensual feelings taking root had been her goal, not hurting friends or family, and she’d failed at both. She took a few more steps and almost tripped on her guilt. Her stomach clutched in anticipation of the barrage of questions about to come. Why aren’t you sleeping? Are you getting enough fluids? When’s the last time you ate?
Even Beth couldn’t cure her attraction to Garrett or the dramas of the past. McKenzie had to be the one to find happiness and resolve her feelings, and she was working hard on both. Ellie’s touch provided more than comfort in the night’s quiet. During those dark hours, the hospital settled into an almost serene pace, and became a place where the monsters crawling around in her head disappeared. At night she could hide, and that invisibility made her life simple.
Fifty yards down the hall, Beth’s barrage of questions still hadn’t started. Unwilling to walk to the end of the guillotine plank, she stopped. “Okay, let’s stop dancing around. Just give it to me.”
“Give you what?” Beth’s confused gaze struck her as odd.
“All the stuff sitting on the end of your tongue.”
“How did you know I’ve been dying to tell you about the drugs?”
Drugs? What drugs?
Beth surveyed the corridor, and then placed her hand on McKenzie’s forearm, pulling her to the side of the hall. Foreboding trickled down her spine. “Haven’t you heard? This place has been hopping like a jackrabbit this morning.” Beth’s soft, whispered voice intrigued her. “Pickle’s instincts were right.”
“Garrett? What trauma did he create now?”
“Nothing. That’s my point. Last night, the police arrested Lisa. You know, that young nurse Branston lectured about leaving her drug cart. I feel bad now for giving Branston such a nose-pulling. Stupid girl.”