Читать книгу Dreams & Desires - Kat Cantrell - Страница 12

Five

Downstairs in the kitchen the kettle whistled but Clare didn’t move. She stood totally still, her eyes locked on Parker’s, the energy whirling between them electrically charged. Parker knew that he could have her right now if he wanted to. This was the moment he’d been waiting for, but half the fun of a relationship was the chase. No matter who was doing the running. And call him a megalomaniac, but it would be much more fun if she made the first move. If she came to him.

Just for fun, he dropped his gaze to her mouth. Her chin lifted a fraction and her tongue darted out to wet her lips.

Oh, yeah, she wanted it bad.

“Your water is boiling,” he said.

Clare blinked several times, as if waking from a daydream. “Huh?”

“The kettle, it’s boiling.”

“Oh. I should probably get that,” she said, but she didn’t move. She was waiting for him to kiss her. He could feel the anticipation, see the throb of her pulse at the base of her throat.

A wisp of dark blond hair had escaped the messy bun she wore, so he reached up and tucked the silky-soft strand back in. Clare’s breath caught and her pupils dilated, and as the tips of his fingers brushed the shell of her ear, she leaned into his palm. He realized, with spine-tingling awareness, that this was the first time he’d touched her. They had bumped shoulders or elbows a time or two while treating a patient, and he’d held her hand to pull her up on the steps today. Touching her felt exciting, and a little naughty.

Her skin was just as smooth and soft as he thought it would be, and damn, she smelled good. He knew that if he kept touching her this way the chase would end right here, right now.

He dropped his hand to his side. “You need a push?”

She blinked with confusion. “A push?”

“To get the kettle. I don’t think it’s going to turn itself off.”

“Right, the kettle,” she said, peeling her eyes from his, taking a slightly unsteady step back. The truth was, he was feeling a little unsteady himself.

He gestured her through the office doorway, and she shook her head. “Uh-uh. There’s no way I’m taking my eyes off you for even a second,” she said. “Next thing I know you’ll be going through my closet or something. You’re too sneaky.”

And she was way too much fun.

He went down first, with Clare watching him like a hawk. When they got to the kitchen, Clare shut off the burner, never once turning her back on him. Not that he blamed her.

“I’m going to head out,” he told her.

Her look of disappointment made him smile. “I thought you were staying for tea.”

“Watch yourself, Clare, or I might have to assume you like having me around.”

“We wouldn’t want that,” she said, but it was too late. It was written all over her face. “Thanks for the ride home. And dinner.”

“My pleasure.” And boy, did he mean that. He walked to the door and pulled his wool coat on. Clare met him in the foyer.

“Do you need a ride to work tomorrow?” he asked her.

“I can use my aunt’s car until she gets back next week. I don’t like relying on other people.”

“And you’re afraid that someone will see us together and get the wrong idea.” Or the right one.

She folded her arms across what he was sure were a perfect pair of breasts. And he would know soon enough. “We never did discuss Janey.”

“Good night, Parker.”

He winked. “Good night, hot stuff.”

Her eye roll was the last thing he saw as she closed the door. Oh, yeah, she was definitely into him. As if there had ever been a question.

* * *

Clare lay awake half the night, and the other half she spent dreaming about Parker. It was as if she couldn’t escape him, no matter how hard she tried. Not even when she was sleeping. He was starting to get under her skin. And that was a very bad thing.

The absence of any physical contact between them had been her secret weapon, but he’d taken care of that, hadn’t he? The warm weight of his palm against her cheek had been unexpected and startling and so erotic that the resulting surge of estrogen had short-circuited the logic pathways in her brain. It was a wonder smoke hadn’t billowed out of her ears. She had been positive that he was going to kiss her, then he didn’t and she didn’t quite understand why.

She got out of bed late, pulling her hair back into a ponytail and dressing in her warmest jogging outfit. According to the weather report she had seen online last night, the daytime high would barely break thirty degrees. She was so ready for spring and warmer weather.

Her breath crystalized and the icy air burned her lungs as she stepped out the back door onto the multilevel deck. She crossed the yard to a gate, which led right to the jogging path.

She was getting warmed up, stretching her hamstrings, when she heard a familiar voice, using a really bad fake Southern accent.

“Fancy meeting you here, ma’am.”

Oh, no, not this morning. She turned to see Parker leaning casually against a barren tree in what looked like a brand-new jogging getup.

“God, give me strength,” she mumbled, and told Parker, “You really need to stop trying to sound Southern. You’re not any good at it.”

He just grinned that adorable grin, making her a tiny bit weak in the knees.

“What are you doing here?”

“It just so happens that I jog, too, and I’m always looking for a change of scenery. A different path to take. Your description of the park intrigued me so I thought I would check it out.”

“I said it was a cute little park. Which word got you? Cute? Or little?”

Despite her snippy tone he smiled.

“If I asked you to go away, would you?”

Looking apologetic, he shook his head.

Of course not. She sighed and said, “Let’s get this over with.”

They started down the path toward the pond, Parker huffing along beside her. But gradually he started to fall behind. They were no more than five minutes in, and Parker was gasping for air. She hadn’t even broken a sweat.

Then he stopped altogether, and she had to backtrack. He stood hunched over and out of breath, holding his side. “Damn, this is harder than it looks.”

Clearly he was not a jogger. And of course she planned to use that to teach him a lesson. “I’ll race you to the pond,” she said.

“Are you trying to kill me?”

“I’ll make you a deal. If you can beat me there, I’ll sleep with you.”

His stunned expression was the last thing she saw as she took off running, leaving Parker in the dust.

She got to the pond and was using a bench to stretch when Parker finally wheezed his way over. He dropped like a lead weight onto the grass at her feet, red-faced and sucking cold air into his lungs.

She shook her head sadly. “I know eighty-year-olds in better shape than you.”

“You really are trying to kill me,” he gasped.

“You did lie about being a jogger. You sort of asked for it.”

“Technically I didn’t lie, because starting this morning I plan to be a regular jogger. If I don’t die from exhaustion first. Or a heart attack. I don’t suppose you have water.”

She took the bottle from her jacket pocket and handed it to him.

“Thanks.” He sat up, chugging half the bottle.

“Maybe you should head back to the house while I do my laps. When I’m finished I’ll make you breakfast. I guess I owe you that much, since I did almost kill you. Not that I was trying or anything.”

“Sure you weren’t.” He pushed himself to his feet. “Can I wait in the house?”

Did he honestly think she would fall for that one again? “Sure. If you can figure out the alarm code.”

She took off running again and he shouted after her, “You’re really going to make me sit out in the cold? I could freeze to death!”

She waved without turning around, feeling not an ounce of guilt. More than likely he had a still-warm luxury vehicle parked somewhere nearby. There would be no freezing to death for him.

She jogged her usual laps around the park, then just for fun added a few more, pushing herself harder. Maybe if she was gone a really long time, he would get bored and leave.

As if. If it had been possible to shake him off that easily, he would have been long gone by now.

When she stepped through the gate into the backyard, Parker was sitting on the steps of the upper deck, tapping away on his cell phone. So much for him leaving.

* * *

Parker heard the back gate open and looked up from his phone. Clare was cute when she was all sweaty, her hair a mess. “Good run?”

She nodded, only slightly out of breath. “It got better when I ditched you. You were dragging me down.”

“Do I still get my breakfast?”

“Yes,” she said grudgingly. She opened the back door and disarmed the alarm. “But don’t expect anything fancy.”

He tugged off his jacket and took a seat at the kitchen island. “Do I at least get coffee?”

She reached over to the coffeemaker and pressed the start button.

She used the term making breakfast loosely. What she should have said was that she would warm up breakfast for him. She “made” him one of those individually wrapped breakfast sandwiches out of the freezer.

“Make yourself useful and get the juice out of the fridge,” she said, putting the sandwich in the microwave.

He opened the refrigerator. Aside from the juice and various condiments, there were mostly just carryout containers.

He had the distinct feeling that Clare didn’t cook, which was fine, as it was one of his favorite things to do. It was a little spooky the way they seemed so perfectly matched. It was like destiny, or fate or some other crap like that.

Serendipity maybe.

She took two glasses down from the cupboard for him to fill. Then the microwave dinged and she handed him the sandwich. “Bon appétit.”

He bit in to find the middle still partially frozen, but the look she was giving him said not to push it. He forced a smile and said, “Delicious.”

“As soon as you’re finished eating you have to leave,” she said.

“Actually, it’s my day off. I can stay as long as I want.”

She gave him one of those looks, and he grinned. Damn, did he love teasing her.

“You look like a grown man,” she said. “You even sound like a grown man...”

He grinned. “If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck.”

“You’re going to make me late for work,” she said.

“As your boss, I give you the day off.”

“I don’t want to take the day off. I actually like going to work.”

“That’s probably why you’re so good at it.”

She shrugged. “Well...”

“I’m serious, Clare. I’ve never seen a more efficiently run children’s ward. Your employees respect you. They look up to you. Sometimes they even fear you a little.”

She blinked with surprise. “Really?”

“You can be a little intense at times, and intimidating.”

She frowned. “I don’t want them to be afraid of me.”

“They fear your authority, not you personally. You hold everyone to a super high standard. You demand the best performance at all times. They don’t like to let you down.”

She actually blushed. “I couldn’t ask for a better staff.”

“They’re as good as they are because of you.”

“I’m sure you had something to do with it, too. You’re incredibly easy to work for. I liked Dr. Mann, but he was incredibly arrogant. He was always right, and God help you if you disagreed with him. Especially in front of a patient. I’ve seen some really good nurses get fired for challenging his authority. And even if it turned out they were right, he would never admit it.”

“Sounds like he had a God complex.”

“Don’t get me wrong, he was a good doctor. Just not a very good person. I think he got into medicine for all the wrong reasons.”

“We all have our reasons,” he said.

“What were yours?”

“Mostly to get laid,” he said, wiggling his brows. “Chicks love doctors.”

“Chicks?”

“That’s right, baby. They dig me.”

She was trying really hard not to grin. “The 1960s called. They want their slang back.”

He laughed and she cracked a smile.

“Your time is up, daddy-o. Make like a tree and leave.”

She was funny, too. And really snarky.

Could she be more enchanting?

Figuring he’d hassled her enough for one morning, he slugged back the last of his coffee, and then left.

Parker spent the remainder of the day catching up on his reading. Medical journals mostly. Then he did some online research regarding Janey’s case. Once again, he found nothing that fit her symptoms. He finished around nine that evening, more frustrated than ever. Feeling restless and edgy, he headed over to the Texas Cattleman’s Club for a drink. Only a few tables in the lounge were occupied; Logan Wade sat at the bar, hunched over a beer. A hockey game played on the television, but he didn’t seem to be watching it. He just stared into the beer mug, mesmerized as he swirled the dark lager around and around. Barely a month ago, Logan had taken custody of his twin brother Seth’s baby daughter after Margaret, the child’s mother, died in a car crash giving birth. Paramedics were able to deliver the baby, who was surprisingly unharmed, but Margaret never regained consciousness. Margaret’s mother, in her grief over losing her daughter and believing that Logan was the baby’s father, left the child in his care. Logan swore he’d never met Margaret, and a blood test confirmed that he was related to the baby, but not the parent. So it had to be Seth.

Parker took a seat next to him, and Logan greeted him with a very unenthusiastic, “Hey.”

The bartender, without prompting, brought Parker his regular, a scotch and soda. “Who’s winning?” he asked Logan, but his friend stared at him blankly.

Parker gestured to the television. “The game?”

“Oh, right,” Logan said, and then shrugged. “I guess I have no idea. To be honest, I don’t even know how long I’ve been sitting here. Is it possible to sleep with one’s eyes open?”

Parker chuckled. “Baby Maggie not letting you get much rest?”

“She’s so fussy. Hadley keeps telling me it’s normal, but damn...” He shook his head in exasperation. “Don’t get me wrong, she’s my niece, and I love her, but I really wasn’t prepared for this.”

“No luck reaching your brother?”

He shook his head. “The navy took the message, but Seth is on a mission. Who knows when he’ll get it. If and when he does, there’s still no guarantee he’ll come back to claim her. I honestly don’t know what I would do without Hadley.”

Hadley, Logan’s new bride, had come to work for him as a nanny, and the two had fallen hard for each other. It seemed as if everyone around Parker was finding their perfect match and settling down. A year ago that would have given him the heebie-jeebies. Now he wanted what they had.

“She’s a keeper,” Parker said.

The game went to commercial and the station broke in with a special news report. Both men looked up at the wide-screen behind the bar. Janey’s picture flashed across the screen with the caption “Abandoned Baby, Mother Found?” Parker sat up straighter, asking the bartender, “Can you turn that up?”

According to the anchor, a truck driver who had been in the lot of the truck stop the night Janey had been found had come forward with a video. While videotaping his rig, he’d caught a glimpse of a woman, now presumed to be Janey’s mother, entering the building. They played the clip, which was grainy and difficult to make out clearly.

“Holy shit!” Logan jumped up so fast the bar stool flipped over backward and everyone in the room turned toward the commotion.

“You recognize her?” Parker asked him.

Logan rubbed his tired eyes and squinted at the television. “That looks like Margaret!”

“Margaret? You mean Maggie’s mother?”

“Margaret’s mother showed me a picture. I’m pretty sure that’s her,” he said, and asked the bartender for the remote to rewind the clip. He rewound it twice. “Yeah,” he told Parker, “I’m positive. That’s Margaret.”

And just like that Parker knew exactly how to treat his fragile little patient. He laughed and shook his head. Could it really be that simple?

“Call the police,” Parker told Logan, pulling on his coat. “I have to get to the hospital.”

Stunned, Logan said, “If Margaret is Janey’s mother, that means...”

“It means you have two nieces.”

A look of shock crossed his face. “Twins?”

“A simple DNA test will prove it definitively.” Honestly, it was a wonder they hadn’t put it together before now. “But if I were you I would go home and get some sleep. If they are twins, your life is about to get a bit more complicated.”