Читать книгу Dad By Choice - Marie Ferrarella, Marie Ferrarella - Страница 11

SHE LOOKED HARRIED, Kyle thought, when Abby opened the door to admit him. And her eyes looked tired. The kind of tired that came from juggling too many balls at the same time.

He’d seen the same look staring back at him from the mirror.

Would that work to his benefit or not? Would she give in quickly because she was tired, or would it make her irritable and resistant? He was hoping for the former. The argument he’d had with Marcie on the way home nearly nine hours ago was still fresh in his mind. That about filled his quota for the day. Lately, all Marcie did was argue with him, if she spoke to him at all.

He noticed that Abby wasn’t moving aside to let him enter. Behind her, the office was in semidarkness.

“I’m early,” he told her.

That was probably meant to be another crack about her arriving late this morning, Abby figured. The smile she forced to her lips was as fake as the Monopoly money she used to play with as a child. “I’m sorry but I’m fresh out of roses to pin on you.”

So it was going to be like that, was it? “I’m not interested in roses, Doctor, I’m interested in your support.”

“So I gather.” Abby leaned against the door she was holding ajar. “Listen, Mr. McDermott—” She paused a second, pressing her lips together. There was a pithy way to phrase this, but for the life of her, she couldn’t summon the energy to think of it. She just wanted him to go away. “I know I said that I would see you after hours, but I’m afraid something’s come up.”

Kyle hadn’t gotten where he was in life by allowing himself to be summarily brushed aside. “What?”

His question took Abby by surprise. Someone else would have told him it was none of his business, or hidden behind the convenient excuse that there was a baby on the way and she had to rush off to deliver it.

But Abby didn’t like evasion and she liked lying even less. Living by the “do unto others” edict that had been so firmly impressed upon her as a child, she had no option but to tell him the truth.

She didn’t have to be friendly about it, though.

“If you must know, I’ve been called to the house for a family meeting.”

“You hold meetings?” He didn’t know all that much about the Maitlands, only what he read in passing, and by reputation. He wondered if they were all cold, passionless people who were emotionally distant from one another. It would seem logical that they would be, if family get-togethers were referred to as “meetings.”

Though normally easygoing, Abby felt herself taking offense at the tone he used. What right did he have to question her or her family? “We do when there are babies dropped on our doorstep and fingers pointed at us.”

Kyle stared at her. “You lost me.” He’d had no opportunity to listen to the radio on his way over; he’d been dictating a letter. He had no idea what she meant.

“No, but I’m trying to.” With a toss of her head, she turned on her heel. Walking back to her office, she shed her lab coat as she went.

Kyle followed. She wasn’t wearing the suit jacket he’d seen her in earlier, he thought. And she’d done something to her hair. Let it down. It made her look younger. Softer.

He couldn’t help noticing, when she swung around again to face him, that the beige turtleneck sweater she had on clung very appealingly to her breasts. Especially as she drew in a deep breath. He realized that he was staring and raised his eyes to her face again.

She should have just politely shut the door on him, Abby thought. She wasn’t any good at excuses. “I know that this must seem like I’m trying to brush you off—”

“Good call.”

Kyle knew she was going to try to make it a done deal if he didn’t say something to stop her. He needed this woman backing him up if he was going to have a prayer of convincing Marcie to be sensible. It wasn’t hard to see that his sister thought the world of Abby Maitland. The woman was the first role model Marcie had turned to since…he couldn’t remember when.

Sensing that she was a person who could be appealed to on an emotional level, he went that way. “Look, Doctor, it might not seem like it to you, but I really love my sister and I only want what’s best for her.”

Given her track record as far as men went, Abby knew that she wasn’t always the best judge of character when it came to the opposite sex. But she believed he was sincere. Or at the very least, that he believed himself to be sincere. He’d proven that by making time in the “busy schedule” Marcie had complained to her about. And there was the matter of the birthing classes. Marcie had signed her brother up as her partner. It spoke to Abby of a strong bond, no matter what words might be flying around to the contrary.

That all counted for something.

Tossing her lab coat over the back of her chair, she reached for her jacket and proceeded to put it on. “Yes, I believe that you do.” The right sleeve was giving her trouble as she tried to push her arm through. Par for the course today, she thought. “But I really do have to be at my mother’s…”

Her voice trailed off as she felt a pair of strong, masculine hands easing the jacket onto her shoulders. She hadn’t even realized that he’d moved behind her. Something akin to a misty premonition zigzagged through her before vanishing. She hadn’t a clue what that was all about, and had less than no time to ponder it.

Turning around, Abby found herself a hairbreadth away from him. Surprised, she felt a spike of adrenaline shoot through her. The pounding in her head increased, and she winced involuntarily.

He saw the pain in her a second before she winced. “What’s the matter?”

“Tension headache.” A vague shrug accompanied the confession she knew she should have kept to herself. She wasn’t a complainer by nature. Not even when her heart was hurt. No one in the family had any idea just how deeply she’d been wounded by Drew Brandon’s duplicity. It was something that, for the most part, she kept to herself. Only a couple of her friends even came close to suspecting the extent of the damage Drew and his womanizing had done.

The familiar term evoked a half smile. Kyle nodded in mute sympathy. “Had more than my share of tension headaches. Sit down.”

Where did he get off ordering her around? Abby raised her chin. “I don’t have—”

He was beginning to see what it was about Abby Maitland that Marcie related to so well. They both appeared to be stubborn as hell. Resting his hands on her shoulders, he gently but firmly pushed her down into the chair. She glared up at him with eyes that were accusing and wary at the same time.

Did she think she had something to fear from him? The thought surprised him. He could handle himself in any given situation, physical or otherwise, but it had never occurred to him to use anything but his powers of persuasion when it came to women.

Kyle purposely made his voice calm and reasonable. “As you pointed out, we’re all running behind from the moment we’re born. A couple more minutes won’t put you much further in the red.” So saying, he turned her chair around so that her back was to him.

He noted that she perched more than sat—probably debating whether to bolt, he decided.

This served her right for agreeing to see him after hours, Abby thought, annoyed at her carelessness. As the daughter of wealthy parents, she knew all the precautions she was supposed to take. But she often thought of them as imprisoning her rather than keeping her safe, and she tended to be lax, preferring to think of everyone as nonthreatening.

She wasn’t all that sure about Marcie’s older brother, however. Nonthreatening wasn’t a word she would have equated with Kyle McDermott.

She felt his hands on her shoulders again, just shy of her neck. Strong, powerful hands. Hands that could easily do damage, given cause. Stiffening, she tried to rise. “I really don’t—”

The last words of the sentence failed to emerge as a shock wave shot through the top of her head in response to the pressure he was applying to the knotted muscles of her shoulders. A slight gasp escaped before she could stop it.

A whisper of guilt slipped through Kyle at the sound. He wasn’t trying to hurt her. “It’ll probably feel worse before it starts to feel better,” he warned, working his fingers farther into the rigid area.

“Too late.” She tried to brace herself and found that she couldn’t. All she could do was hold on and hope she didn’t make a fool of herself. “I think you just took off the top of my skull.”

Abby felt his hard torso against her back as he leaned forward, inspecting the area in question. She could have sworn she felt his breath move along the suddenly sensitized flesh beneath her hair.

“Nope, it’s still there.”

“Good,” she said, exhaling slowly. Why was her pulse suddenly racing? Her brother Mitchell had warned her about pacing herself and working too hard. She should have listened to him. She was paying the price for that now.

“I’ve gotten very attached to it,” Abby heard herself say.

Like thick molasses, relief moved slowly along the shoulders he was kneading up to her neck, then made its way by micro-steps to her temples. Stunned, surprised and feeling strangely light-headed, Abby took a deep breath, held it, then let it out slowly.

“Better?”

The question seemed to drift to her out of nowhere, parting a haze as it came. “Yes. A little.” With effort, she forced herself to turn the chair to face him, though the magic the man performed was seductive.

As was the feel of his hands on her shoulders.

Abby raised her eyes to his, trying not to cling to the sensation he’d created. “And that’s all I’m going to have time for.”

Kyle had no idea why a smile was forming within him. He’d come here to make his arguments, to win her over to his way of thinking. Humor had no place in this; the issue was too important. And yet here he was, smiling at her for expressing the same sentiments that drove him.

“Afraid they’ll start the meeting without you?” He echoed the question that Marcie had accusingly put to him earlier, momentarily seeing her side of it.

Abby found that she had to grip the armrests to get herself up. She felt like warm liquid seeking a vessel to rest in. But at least the tension headache was miraculously gone. Her eyes held his, and despite herself she was fascinated by the half smile.

“Someone pointed out to me today that it’s disrespectful to be late.”

She was tossing his words back at him. Odd that he didn’t mind. Kyle inclined his head. “You’re a quick study.”

“Whenever possible.” On her feet again, telling herself that the wobbly feeling in her thighs was a result of not finishing the single sandwich she’d allowed herself for lunch, Abby hesitated as she studied Kyle’s expression. Damn it, but she truly did believe he was sincere. “If this is really that important to you, you’re welcome to follow me to the house and wait in the library until I’m free. With luck, it won’t take too long.”

Tacitly, Kyle accepted the invitation, knowing it was not a choice. “I get the feeling that there’s no other way to see you except on your terms.”

He made it sound as if she were drafting a treaty. “I don’t have terms, Mr. McDermott. I just have a very busy life.” She pulled open the bottom drawer. “Take it or leave it.”

“I’ll take it.”

Abby raised her eyes until they met his. He surprised her. She hadn’t really thought that he would agree; it was just an offer she felt compelled to make because he had vanquished her tension headache. And because he’d looked, for just a moment, like a determined white knight.

She was far too easygoing for her own good, she chided herself. But now that she’d made the offer, she knew she couldn’t very well rescind it. That wouldn’t be playing fair.

With a sigh, she pulled her purse out of the drawer and let the drawer slide back into place. “All right, the address is—”

That she felt she had to actually give it to him amused Kyle. “Everyone knows where Maitland Mansion is.” What went unsaid was that, as a teenager, he used to drive by the estate in his second-hand car whenever the opportunity presented itself, vowing that someday he’d have a mansion just like it. And a life just like the Maitlands’. A life that commanded respect.

“All right, then.” Resigned, she led the way out. “Let’s go.”

SHE DROVE TOO FAST, Kyle thought, following Abby’s bright red Jaguar up the winding hill that led to her family’s estate. He wondered if her speed was a natural outpouring of residual energy, or if she just had an incredibly heavy foot.

Or maybe she was trying to lose him.

In any case, a doctor should have known better than to drive like that. She didn’t weave in and out of traffic, but that was only because there was no other traffic.

He decided that being in a hurry was a natural part of Abby Maitland’s makeup.

The Maitland estate was located a mere ten blocks from the clinic, but upon driving into the compound, housed behind tall, imposing electronic black gates, Kyle felt as if they had entered another world. In the distance, the stately white house rose up in front of him. Four sprawling floors reaching up to the sky beneath a light clay-tiled roof that seemed more reminiscent of an old English castle than a Texas mansion.

There was a guest cottage on the premises, barely visible off to the side. Hidden from view were the tennis court and the pool that Kyle knew were located at the rear of the property. The tennis court alone was larger than the lot on which his boyhood home had stood.

The rich sure knew how to live, he thought. It was a talent he was still trying to acquire. But work kept getting in the way. Another skill he had yet to acquire, he knew, was the ability to delegate. But he couldn’t overcome the nagging fear that if he wasn’t involved in all phases of operation, everything would break down and come to a grinding halt. Being on the leading edge of communications technology meant never slowing your pace.

It looked as if Abby hadn’t been blowing him off about the “meeting,” after all, Kyle thought as they approached the mansion. There was a squadron of cars parked in the circular gray-and-white paved driveway. He quickly surveyed the various makes and models. They would make an automobile aficionado drool.

It was difficult not to feel out of place, even behind the wheel of a Mercedes. He supposed that was because no matter what the numbers on the ledgers said, deep down he was still that scrawny, awkward kid in his cousin’s hand-me-downs.

Kyle was beginning to have doubts that he would ever be entirely free of that image.

But for now, he pushed that negative thought aside, just as he had countless other times during the early years of his business when all his efforts looked as if they might blow up in his face. It had taken fierce determination for him to believe in himself, but it had paid off.

He was as good as any of these people, Kyle told himself. He just had to hold on to that thought.

After pulling up beside Abby’s car, Kyle turned off the engine and got out quickly. Abby was already ahead of him, waiting on the bottom of the steps that led up to the massive front door. Kyle lengthened his stride, sensing she would only wait a moment. “You drive too fast.”

The blunt observation surprised Abby. People who wanted to win you over to their side didn’t start out by admonishing you. It seemed the man was full of contradictions. He was also undoubtedly accustomed to getting his way, if not through sheer force of will, then by his looks. She found herself wondering if any woman had ever said no to him—and meant it.

“So my brothers say,” she acknowledged, inclining her head. “I tend to do that when I’m running behind.” The look she gave him was long, penetrating and deep. “I’m sure someone like you can understand that.”

He could, but he also knew better. Life had taught him that. “Better late than never,” he countered. When she raised a quizzical brow, he added, “My mother drove like you do. She died in a car crash a little more than sixteen years ago.”

Caught unprepared, Abby could only murmur, “I’m sorry.”

He said nothing, merely shrugged as he fell in beside her. There was no point in going over what was in the past and couldn’t be changed. He was interested in the present, and how it could influence the future.

Kyle drank in the splendor that was Maitland Mansion. The word grand seemed hopelessly insufficient. It took him back to the boy he’d been. The dreamer. “I’ve always wondered what it looked like inside.”

The admission made Abby smile. He probably didn’t realize that he sounded almost wistful. Taking the lead, she hurried up the steps. “Then wonder no more.”

She rang the doorbell even though she had a key. Harold would be there to open the front door before she ever located her key within the jumble of her purse.

The stern face that appeared when the door was opened broke into a wreath of smiles as recognition sank in. Clear blue eyes crinkled with pleasure. “Miss Abby, how nice to see you again.”

She could remember a time when the tall, stately man had seemed larger than life to her. Now there was a touch of frailty hovering over him that tugged on her heart strings. “Hello, Harold.”

She surprised Kyle by brushing her lips over the butler’s cheek. The pale complexion grew pink where her lips had touched it.

“Am I the last one?” she asked, walking in.

Harold nodded. “They’re all in the living room.” He inclined his head in that general direction, but his eyes rested on Kyle. There was not even the slightest spark of curiosity in them. To Harold, curiosity was a plebeian sentiment. What he needed to know he would be told, by and by.

Abby glanced toward the living room. The doors were closed. Not a good sign. She wondered if anything had been decided yet.

The slight, almost imperceptible clearing of a throat made her remember the man at her side. And her manners. “This is Kyle McDermott. Mr. McDermott, this is Harold, without whom everything in the Maitland household would fall to pieces.”

The modest smile threatened to take possession of the butler’s entire face. “You flatter me, Miss Abby.”

She caught the old man’s arm in a quick, affectionate embrace. “Not nearly enough.” She released her hold. Time to see what was going on. “Please show Mr. McDermott to the library, Harold.” She spared Kyle a quick glance. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

“I’m sure you will,” she murmured, hurrying away.

Kyle watched her for a second, noting that the gentle sway of her hips increased as she picked up speed.

“This way, sir.”

It sounded more like a command than a request. Turning away, Kyle followed the older man.

The butler was silent as he led the way down a hallway discreetly showcasing fine sculptures and paintings that looked vaguely familiar from an art history course dating back to Kyle’s freshman year in college.

He wondered if he should be dropping bread crumbs to help him find his way back, in case the good doctor forgot about him. He would have been willing to bet that more than one person had gotten lost here.

“May I bring you some refreshments?” Harold asked as he opened the double doors that led into the library.

The room more than deserved its name. The mingled scent of lemon oil, leather and roses greeted him. For a moment, Kyle didn’t acknowledge the butler’s question, as he looked around the room. It rose two stories, with books residing on dark oak shelves that completely lined three of its walls. In the rear of the library, stairs led to an alcove that housed more books and a long table.

Had Abby done her studying here? Kyle wondered. Or was this all for show? “Quite impressive.”

“The Maitlands all like to read, sir. Some of the books here are over two hundred years old,” Harold told him. “About the refreshments?” A gray brow rose.

Kyle shook his head, still looking around. “Nothing for me, thanks.”

Harold remained standing where he was. “It might be a while, sir.”

Kyle looked at the man, feeling as if he had been given a subtle hint. “In that case, make it a scotch. Neat.”

A small smile played along the very thin lips. “We’re never messy here, sir.” With that, Harold turned and discreetly faded, more than walked, from the room. He closed the doors behind him.

Was that for privacy, or to seal him in? Kyle had a feeling it was the latter.

Over the years Kyle had found that the kind of books people kept on their shelves gave him useful insight into the people themselves. So, with nothing else to do, he began reading the lettering along the leather spines.