Читать книгу Tall, Dark And Irresistible - Joan Elliott Pickart - Страница 10

One Year Later

Hands across the Sea International Adoptions was located on the fourth floor of an office building in Ventura, but was bursting at the seams and needed more office space. A new spacious structure was going to be on a piece of land donated by a grateful couple who were overjoyed with their newly adopted daughter. Ryan had agreed to present the plans for another architect at the firm who was still on vacation.

He entered the office and glanced around, deciding immediately that he liked the classy but welcoming reception area that had been decorated in colors of country blue and raspberry. Numerous plants gave it a homey touch, and a play area in a corner was equipped with toys, a small table and chairs. He approached the smiling receptionist and gave her his name and the purpose of his visit.

“Oh, yes, Mr. Sharpe,” the young woman said, “they’re expecting you, but we’re running a little late this morning. If you don’t mind waiting in Ms. St. John’s office, she’ll be with you in just a few minutes. Carolyn St. John is our assistant director, and is in charge of Asian adoptions. The head of the agency is tied up in an overseas conference call.”

“No problem,” Ryan said. “Just point me in the right direction.”

The receptionist got to her feet. “I’ll show you the way. Would you care for a cup of coffee or tea?”

Ryan declined the offer and was deposited in a large office decorated in the same colors as the front area. A stack of files was on top of a desk, filing cabinets lined one wall and two chairs were placed in front of the desk. He leaned the cardboard tube against one of the chairs, then his glance fell on the wall behind the desk.

There were more than two dozen framed photographs of Asian children ranging in age from, Ryan guessed, maybe two or three months up to eight or nine years displayed on the wall. He frowned as he slowly studied each photograph, his gaze lingering on the pictures of the older children.

Memories from years ago hammered against his mind, causing him to feel a chill.

He was seven or eight years old and seated in a restaurant booth with his adoptive parents and older sister, Patty, who was a carbon copy of their mother.

He saw the speculative looks from the other diners as they scrutinized the Sharpes, then whispered among themselves. He was sure they were saying that, for some unknown reason, his parents had decided to complete their family by adding a foreign child, who stuck out like a sore thumb.

He recalled an open-house night in elementary school during which his teacher commented that she hadn’t realized Ryan was a foster child, then apologized quickly when Ted informed her that Ryan was their son.

He remembered the day that Patty had come home from school in tears, saying some of the older kids had taunted her, saying her mother must have been getting it on with the gardener or the grocery man. They couldn’t imagine why Patty would have such a weird-looking younger brother who obviously wasn’t really a Sharpe.

Then later in high school… No, enough of this. Enough.

Ryan shook his head to fling into oblivion the disturbing images of days long past, drew a deep, steadying breath, then stared at the photographs again.

Carolyn St. John rushed to the open doorway of her office, prepared to apologize to Mr. Sharpe for keeping him waiting. She stopped so abruptly she teetered slightly and completely forgot what she was going to say.

My goodness, she thought, as she swept her gaze over the man standing in front of her desk. Mr. Ryan Sharpe was, without a doubt, one of the most handsome, well-built men she had ever seen.

He was, she guessed, about six feet tall, had dark brown, wavy hair, tawny skin, and drop-dead gorgeous, extremely dark, almond-shaped eyes. His suit was obviously custom-tailored and accentuated his broad shoulders and long, muscular legs.

There was an—oh, what should she call it—a blatant masculinity emanating from Ryan Sharpe, a sensual male something that was causing her heart to do a funny little flutter and a flush of heat to stain her cheeks.

Well, this was ridiculous, to say the least, Carolyn thought, drawing a much-needed breath. She was reacting to Mr. Sharpe like an adolescent girl who found herself in a dither because she was in close proximity to the popular football quarterback in high school. Enough of this nonsense.

“I’m sorry to have—” Carolyn started, as she walked forward. She stopped speaking as she heard the breathy quality of her voice, cleared her throat and tried again. “—kept you waiting, Mr. Sharpe.

“I’m Carolyn St. John. The others are waiting for us in the conference room to review the plans you’re presenting for the new building. Our director, Elizabeth Kane, will join us as soon as she finishes with an overseas telephone call. Were you offered something to drink?”

Ryan pulled his gaze from the photographs and turned to look at Carolyn St. John.

Pretty woman, he thought immediately. Really lovely. Carolyn St. John was about five foot six, slender, had curly dark hair that sort of fluffed around her face and fell to just below her ears and the bluest eyes he had ever seen. Nice. Very, very nice.

She was wearing a long-sleeved blue dress that matched her eyes with a swirly-looking skirt that came to just below her knees and revealed shapely calves and ankles. Her only jewelry was a gold locket on a delicate chain.

But he’d been so engrossed in looking at the pictures on the wall that he hadn’t heard one word she had said beyond asking if he’d been offered refreshments.

“Yes, thank you, but I don’t care for anything to drink,” he said, smiling slightly. He switched his gaze back to the wall of pictures. “I assume these are children from overseas that have been adopted by their new American parents.”

“Yes, they are,” Carolyn said, closing the distance between them.

Oh, Ryan Sharpe smelled good, too, she thought rather giddily. He was wearing a woodsy-scented aftershave that suited him perfectly.

“I’m in charge of Asian adoptions,” she said, “as well as being the assistant director of the agency. Those are photographs of children from various Asian countries I’ve placed with couples and single people in the States.” She smiled. “It’s my gallery of happiness and dreams come true.”

“Happiness and dreams come true,” Ryan said quietly, but with a slight edge to his voice, “for the parents. I qualify to have my baby picture on a wall like that because my parents adopted me from Korea.”

Ryan paused and looked at Carolyn St. John again, a deep frown on his face.

“I know you believe you’re performing a service here by providing these children with a chance at a life far better than the one they would have had in an orphanage,” he went on, “and you are, to a point.

“But have you ever considered the far-reaching ramifications, Ms. St. John, of placing foreign children with American parents? Have you thought about what it’s like for those kids when they realize they are different, just don’t fit in? Do you ever think about that, when you’re handing out cute little babies from overseas?”

“First of all, Mr. Sharpe,” Carolyn said, with a flash of anger, “we don’t hand out those children to just anyone. You’re obviously only part Korean but…” She planted her hands on her hips. “I’m sorry if you had difficulties with your mixed-heritage while growing up, but no, I’m not going to justify what I do here, to someone who has a chip on his shoulder as wide as Toledo.”

Carolyn narrowed her eyes and lifted her chin. “If you’ll follow me, please,” she said coolly, “we’ll join the others and you can present the plans for the new building.”

Carolyn spun around and marched from the room.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I…” Ryan stopped speaking as Carolyn disappeared from view. “Damn.”

Ryan shook his head in self-disgust, then grabbed the cardboard cylinder. He stared up at the ceiling for a long moment, then drew a deep breath, letting it out slowly with the hope of dispelling the anger he felt for his behavior.

Man, he thought, who had put a rotten nickel in him, causing him to mouth off like that? Those photographs had caused painful memories to rise up from some dusty corner of his mind and slam against him like physical blows.

But that was no excuse for what he had just done and said. Not only had he represented MacAllister Architects very poorly, he had also alienated a very attractive woman. A woman, who when angry, had eyes like incredible blue laser beams and a pretty flush on her cheeks.

He had to apologize to Carolyn St. John, make amends…right now.

Ryan left the office and looked down a hallway, seeing Carolyn waiting for him at the far end of the corridor. She had her arms crossed beneath her breasts and was tapping the toe of one shoe impatiently.

She was definitely angry at him, Ryan thought, starting toward her, not smiling.

Ryan strode down the hall and stopped in front of Carolyn.

“Look, I want to say that I…” he started.

“The others are seated inside,” Carolyn said, cutting him off as she spoke to the knot of his tie. “We’re running late as it is, so shall we go in, Mr. Sharpe?”

“It’s Ryan and…”

Carolyn swept one arm through the air. “After you. I’m just breathless with anticipation to hear what other pearly words of wisdom you have to offer…Mr. Sharpe.”

Ryan cringed as Carolyn’s words made a direct hit on his already guilty conscious, and he moved past her to enter the large room where a dozen people were seated around a long table.

Carolyn introduced Ryan to Elizabeth who introduced Ryan to the others as Carolyn took a seat at the far end. As Ryan spread out the blueprints in the center of the table, everyone got to their feet to see better. Carolyn rose but stayed at the edge of the group.

Ryan Sharpe, she fumed, might be one of the most handsome and well-built men she had ever encountered, but big macho deal. All the rugged good looks and nicely placed muscles in the world would not erase the fact that she did not like him.

How dare he pass negative judgment on her and the agency? He accused her of not knowing what it was like to be different? Oh, ha, a lot he knew. She had firsthand knowledge of that lonely status.

But no matter what difficulties he might have had while growing up, and no matter what problems the precious children she helped place with parents in this country might encounter, they were far better off here than lost in the shuffle in overcrowded orphanages and—

Oh, Carolyn, shut up, she told herself. She didn’t have to justify her chosen career to a narrow-minded hunk with an attitude. So there.

“Right,” Carolyn said decisively, then realized, to her embarrassment as everyone turned to look at her, that she’d spoken aloud.

“Well, good, Carolyn,” Elizabeth said, smiling. “I’m glad you agree that French doors leading to the courtyard are much classier than what we’d decided on earlier. It appears we’re in accord, Mr. Sharpe.”

“It’s Ryan, please,” he said to Elizabeth, then shifted his attention to Carolyn. “I’m delighted that you and I are on the same page…Carolyn.”

“Oh, we are…Ryan,” she said, ever so sweetly. “About French doors.”

Elizabeth frowned. “Did I miss something here, Carolyn?”

“No, Elizabeth,” Carolyn said, “nothing that deserves any further discussion. Are there any other changes from the original ideas we presented that we need to be apprised of?”

“Well, no, not according to the notes I was given,” Ryan said. “I just need Elizabeth to sign off on these plans and we’re all set. You can present these blueprints to your contractor. MacAllister Architects will have another set on file at our office in case any questions or problems arise during construction.”

“We’re going to have a ground-breaking ceremony with the press invited,” Elizabeth said. “I think I’ll buy a shiny shovel and put a huge red bow on it to turn over the first scoop of soil on our land and…”

As Elizabeth chattered on to Ryan about the ground-breaking ceremony, he smiled and nodded, then watched in frustration as Carolyn left the room without making eye contact with him.

At last able to escape, Ryan hurried to Carolyn’s office where she was sitting at her desk busily typing on a computer keyboard. Ryan stood in front of the desk and cleared his throat. Carolyn continued to type.

“Carolyn,” Ryan said finally.

“Hmm?” she said, her fingers flying over the keys.

“Look, I’m sorry about what I said earlier. I was way out of line, and I apologize for my outburst. It’s just that I… No, there’s no excuse for my behavior. I’d like to make amends. Would you have lunch with me? I’ll come back at noon and pick you up. Please?”

Carolyn stopped typing, pressed a key to save the work, then turned her head slowly to meet Ryan’s gaze.

“Lunch?” he repeated, producing his best one-hundred-watt smile. “Please, Carolyn?”

“I bet you’re accustomed to getting just about anything you want with that smile…Ryan,” she said. “Well, chalk this up as a new experience for you. Have lunch? With you? Do let me know if there’s any part of this reply to your request that you don’t understand, but my answer is really quite simple. No.”