Читать книгу Dreams & Desires - Kat Cantrell - Страница 13
ОглавлениеClare woke the next morning to her phone ringing.
She sat up and looked at her phone. Of course it was Parker. Who else would call her at 7:00 a.m.? On her day off?
“Hello,” she grumbled.
“You awake?” he asked.
Duh. “I am now!”
“Good. Come down and let me in.”
“You’re here?”
“I have some very good news.”
“Fine,” she grumbled, tossing the covers off and rolling out of bed. She tugged on her beat-up terry-cloth robe, and still half asleep, trudged down the stairs to the front door.
“Good morning,” he said with a smile when she flung open the door.
“It’s 7:00 a.m.,” she told him.
“I know.”
“On my day off.”
“I know.” He walked right past her without invitation and took his coat off, dropping it over the back of the sofa on the way to the kitchen, acting as if he owned the place.
It took a good minute to notice that he was unshaven and his clothes were a wrinkled mess.
“You look like hell,” she said.
He took in her messy ponytail, puffy eyes and ragged old robe. “Look who’s talking.”
At least she had a good reason. What was his excuse? And what man in his right mind would tell the woman he was trying to sleep with that she looked like hell?
She supposed that was what made him so...Parker. When he poured on the charm he was tough to resist. But didn’t he know that honesty was not always the best policy?
“Did you not go home last night?” she asked, regretting the words the instant she spoke them. She didn’t want to know where he’d been. Or whom he had been with.
Grinning from ear to ear he said, “I did not. I spent the night with a beautiful girl.”
Because you’re not man enough for a real woman? she wanted to say. “And you woke me at 7:00 a.m. on my day off to tell me this? Are you on drugs?”
He shook his head.
“Mentally challenged?”
He just smiled, then he looked toward the coffeepot and sniffed. “What, no coffee?”
Was he kidding? He really was mentally challenged. “Seven a.m. Day off. Sleeping. Is any of this ringing a bell?”
“I’ll make a pot,” he said.
Ooookay. She flopped down on the sofa. “Knock yourself out.”
This was her own fault. She never should have let him get in her head. Or her house. But it was too late now. Now that he was here there was no getting rid of him. And she hated that somewhere deep down she didn’t want to get rid of him.
She let her head fall back, closed her tired eyes and pinched back the migraine building at the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. She must have dozed off for a minute or two, or maybe ten, because the next thing she knew Parker was waking her, holding a steaming cup of coffee.
“Time to get up,” he said, holding it out to her. “Black, one sugar.”
She took the cup, grumbling under her breath as she did. It irritated her to no end that after just one shared meal at the diner he already knew exactly how she fixed her coffee.
“Not a morning person?” he asked, sitting down beside her with his own cup.
“Not on my day off.” Especially when she’d spent the previous night tossing and turning, and all because of the man sitting next to her.
“So, about that girl...”
“Ugh! Do I really need to hear this?” she said, resisting the urge to stick her fingers in her ears and sing, Lalalalala.
“There you go again, thinking the worst of me,” he said.
She had to. It was the only way to keep him at arm’s length.
“I spent the night at the hospital,” he said. “With Janey.”
Clare’s heart dropped so fast and hard that she felt woozy. She set her coffee on the table for fear of dropping it from her shaking hands. And though she needed to know what happened, she was terrified to ask.
“She’s okay,” he assured her with a smile, laying a hand on her arm. “She’s been improving all night.”
Oh, thank God.
The sudden gush of relief had her shaking even harder. “How? What happened?”
“I finally figured out what’s wrong. From watching the news, no less.”
“So what is it?”
“It’s called twin-to-twin transfusion.”
She blinked. “But...she’s not a twin. And if she is, where is the other baby?”
“Healthy and happy, and living with her uncle Logan.”
She gasped. “Baby Maggie? But...”
“Some truck driver filming his rig got a video of Janey’s mother at the Lucky Seven truck stop. She was identified as Margaret Garner by several people. Which means that Maggie and Janey are twins—we confirmed it with a blood test. Although she isn’t Janey anymore.”
“They gave her a new name?”
“Madeline. But they’re calling her Maddie.”
“Maddie and Maggie. That’s cute. But how did we not make the connection?”
“I beat myself up over that all night. They were brought in separately, worked on by two different teams. She was healthy. There was really nothing to connect. We’re thinking that Margaret didn’t know she was having twins. I think she had Maddie at the rest stop. She was probably in shock, and losing blood. I’m sure she had no idea she was still in labor when she got back in her car.”
Meaning she probably got little to no prenatal care. “If she’d seen an OB-GYN she would have known it was twins and they could have treated their condition in utero.”
“But we both know that it doesn’t always work that way. And all things considered, Maddie is lucky to be alive. She’ll always have issues with her heart, but for the most part she’ll lead a normal life.”
“Now what? She’s still too sick to go home, even if she has one.”
“There’s a children’s center in Plano that specializes in the disorder. She’ll be moved there until she’s well enough to go home. And even then she’ll need special care. She’s still a very sick little girl, but at least now there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. We have effective treatment options.”
It was usually a happy occasion when a patient left the hospital, and while Clare was relieved that Maddie—that name would take some getting used to—was improving, she would miss the baby terribly.
“When are they moving her? I’d like to see her before she goes.”
“She’s being taken over by ambulance tomorrow morning,” he said.
Clare fought the irrational urge to cry. “I want to get over there and spend some time with her.”
“Of course. And I know this is difficult because we’re all very attached to her. But it’s for the best.”
Logically, yes.
“Would you mind if I just lie here on the couch and take a catnap?”
“It will have to be a short one,” Clare told Parker. “I won’t be long.”
“Take your time,” he said with a huge yawn, putting his head back and closing his eyes. “I’m beat.”
He looked beat, and kind of harmless. But she was still a little unsure...
“You’re staying right here?” she said.
He looked up at her with bloodshot, sleepy eyes. “I’m not going to move, I promise. And this time I really do promise.”
“I’ll only be five minutes,” she said.
His eyes slipped closed again and he mumbled something incoherent.
Feeling a little on edge, but also fairly certain he was telling the truth, she jogged upstairs to her bedroom. If she gave him too much time alone he might get bored and into trouble.
She picked her clothes out and laid them on the bed then went into the bathroom to brush her teeth and hair. She’d slept like hell last night. Not even a date with the water jets in her spa tub had been enough to soothe the restless, itchy feeling in her soul. She knew of only one person who could throw her into such turmoil, and he was napping on her couch.
She brushed the knots from her waist-length hair, reminding herself that it was time for a trim. She reached for a hair band, still thinking about Parker, wondering what he could be getting into down there. Her hand stopped in midair halfway to the drawer, then fell to her side, and she asked her reflection, “What could he be getting into?”
That was a really good question, because knowing Parker the way she did, he was definitely getting into some sort of trouble. He couldn’t seem to help himself.
She frowned at her reflection. What the hell was she doing? Instead of making him promise not to snoop, she should have sent him on his way instead. Politely but firmly. It wasn’t as if she needed him to drive her to the hospital. She had her aunt’s car for that. He literally had no reason to be there. Other than to frustrate and annoy her.
Still in her robe she headed back down the stairs, calling out to her uninvited guest. “Hey, Parker, I was thinking—”
Parker didn’t hear her. He was stretched out on her couch, hands tucked behind his head, sound asleep and snoring softly. He was taking a catnap, just as he’d said he would. But that wasn’t what had her tripping over her own feet, or whimpering like a wounded animal.
Parker still had his pants on, which was a really good thing. Unfortunately that was all he had on. His shirt, undershirt, shoes and socks were on the floor beside the sofa. And oh, did he look good. Better than she had ever imagined he would.
Damn him!
Hard as she’d tried to deny it, there was definitely some sort of connection there. An irrational and scary kind of connection. It didn’t make any sense. But lately it seemed that very few things in her life made much sense anymore. So if she just crawled up there with him...
You cannot let that happen, Clare.
No, she could not.
She closed her eyes and shook her head, wishing away the mental picture of him lying there looking all sexy and perfect. Wishing him away. But when she peeked through the small slit between her mostly closed lids he was still lying there, still looking amazing with his muscular chest and wide shoulders. And his abs? They were freaking perfect. She could do a million crunches a day and never look that good.
On the bright side, this was without a doubt the least obnoxious she had ever seen him. But now more than ever he really needed to go. And she really needed to stop staring at his chest.
“Parker,” she said, keeping a safe distance between them. When he didn’t respond she said it louder. “Parker!”
Still nothing.
She clapped her hands hard and loud, thinking it would startle him awake. He didn’t even flinch.
This was not working.
She stepped just close enough to the couch so that she could reach him with her foot. She gave him a firm jab in the leg with her toes then stepped back. Parker kept on snoring.
Wow, he was out.
She stepped a little closer and nudged him again, then once more.
Nothing.
This was getting ridiculous.
She laid her foot on his stomach, intending to give him a good hard shake, right up until the second the sensitive bottom of her bare foot touched his warm, smooth skin.
Oh, that was dumb.
He didn’t budge, and she realized, as she dropped her leg, that if he had woken he would have opened his eyes to an X-rated, full view of her goods from the waist down.
And why was she more disappointed than relieved that he remained asleep?
Okay, it was time to get serious. He really had to go. She wasn’t thinking straight at all.
Using her opposite foot, in case he actually did wake up at some point, she hauled off and kicked his leg.
He mumbled something and shifted onto his side, facing her, and when he did his phone slipped out of his pocket, hit the hardwood floor with a thud and slid under the couch.
Crap.
She would have just left it there, but Parker was on call. If his phone rang he needed to be able to hear it.
Realizing that the odds of him waking at this point were slim to none, she got down on her knees and fished his phone out from under the couch, finding a couple of dust bunnies under there, as well.
Sitting back on her haunches she laid the phone on the arm of the couch next to his ear, then changed her mind and set it down on the cushion next to him. As she did, the backs of her fingers “accidentally” brushed against his stomach. She felt the contact with the intensity of an electric shock and it left her feeling limp and shaky.
This was getting out of hand fast, and she knew she should stop. Problem was, she really, really wanted to touch his abs. Not for long. She just wanted to know how it would feel. A few seconds tops. He would never have to know.
The idea of touching him was terrifying. And intoxicating. Her hands shook in anticipation. But did she have the guts to do it?
Her aunt was always telling Clare that she needed more excitement. That she was in the prime of her life, and she needed to take chances every now and then. Kay’s life had been one long adventure, and despite what the family may have believed, she had no regrets.
Clare gnawed on her lip, fists balled tight. Should she or shouldn’t she? He was sleeping like the dead. So what was the harm? It would quench her curiosity, and he would never have to know about it.
Just do it, Clare.
Her hand trembled as she reached out. She let it hover over his stomach for a second, so close she could feel the heat of his skin, working up the courage to take it one step further.
She was really going to do this. She was going to touch him.
Nervous, and excited, she lowered her hand, and the charge she felt as her skin touched his would have buckled her knees if she hadn’t already been on the floor. The contrast of her pale skin against his much darker olive complexion was a crazy kind of erotic, and she sat there like that, watching his face for any sign that he was waking. She was playing with fire and it was more exhilarating than she could have ever imagined. It had been so long since she allowed herself to let go and follow her heart, she had forgotten how good it could feel to want someone. And now that she had a small taste of what it felt like to touch him, to be so close to him, she didn’t want to stop.
Once she rang that bell, it was impossible to unring it.
She let her hand drift upward, toward his pecs, which were as impressive, or even more impressive, than his abs.
She looked back up at his face and froze. His eyes were open.
Damn, caught in the act. She muttered a very unladylike word.
“Am I dreaming?” he asked, his voice gravelly, eyes glossy from sleep, or lack thereof.
This had to be a dream. Real life never felt this good.
“You’re dreaming,” she told him, sliding her hand upward, through the sprinkling of silky hair on his chest.
He groaned and closed his eyes again. “If this is a dream I don’t ever want to wake up.”
“It is,” she said, gently dragging her nails down his pecs, over his small dark nipples. The scent of his skin was inebriating, and so delicious she wanted to eat him up. “This isn’t really happening.”
A sleepy smile curled his lips. “So I can do this?”
He covered her hand with his own and lifted it to his lips, brushing a kiss against her wrist.
She whimpered and cupped his face in her hand, his beard rough against her palm. She brushed her thumb over his full bottom lip and his tongue darted out for a taste. It just about did her in.
“Come here,” he said. He hooked his hands behind her neck and pulled her against the hard wall of his chest for a kiss. He tasted like coffee and sleep and something wild and exciting. Her heart pounded its way up into her throat and her skin felt electric. She was no longer thinking of the consequences. Screw the consequences. She wanted him, and she was going to take what she wanted.
His hand slid down her throat and slipped inside the opening of her robe, and when he cupped her breast, she stopped thinking altogether.
