Читать книгу Cassidy's Kids - Tara Quinn Taylor - Страница 8

THE BRIGHT SIDE was that nothing else could go wrong. Everything already had. At breakfast that morning, sitting in the same chair at the same dining room table she’d been sitting at almost since the day she was born, Ellie Maitland had had a panic attack. Out of the blue, she’d suddenly felt suffocated by that sameness, by the inadequacies that had shaped her life and which spelled out an entire future of more of the same. Her hands had started to tingle, and her feet, too, almost as though they’d all fallen asleep at once.

“Hey, El, I saw that you picked up my dry cleaning again—”

Her twin sister’s voice seemed to be coming through a megaphone rather than from across the table.

“—you didn’t have to do that.”

“I knew you’d forgotten, and I had to drive by that way, anyway,” Ellie replied. Focusing on something as mundane as the laundry helped a bit. But only until she looked down again.

Staring at the newspaper in front of her, at yet another article subtly hinting that Eleanor Maitland might not be up to her recently appointed position as administrator at Maitland Maternity Clinic, Ellie had to concentrate to keep the words from blurring. She was losing it. Twenty-five years old and falling apart.

“Ignore them, Ellie.” The soft feminine voice was laced with the steely determination that had seen Megan Maitland through her own lifetime of disappointments and joys.

Grasping the business section of the large Texas newspaper between cold fingers, Ellie finally looked up from the hurtful words. “They’re like vultures, Mom, waiting for me to fail.”

“So?” Megan’s dark blue eyes didn’t waver as they met the troubled look of her second-youngest-by-eleven-minutes daughter.

“They think I only got this job because I’m your daughter.”

“So?”

“Is it true?” Ellie asked, bracing herself.

Beth, her twin, scoffed.

“What do you think?” Megan’s expression was shrewd.

“I have goals, Mom. And a clear sense of our mission.”

Megan nodded and smiled. “I know.”

“No one else would have hired me so young for a position of such stature.”

“Probably not.”

“And certainly not while I’m still a semester away from my master’s degree.”

“You’re going to night school. You’ll have your degree before the fiscal year ends.”

Ellie flushed under her mother’s loving gaze. No matter how often Ellie fell short of being everything a Maitland should be, Megan continued to love her. “I won’t let you down,” she whispered, afraid she was really going to make a fool of herself and cry.

Ellie never cried. At least not where anyone in her family could see.

“I know you won’t,” Megan said.

And that had been that. Ellie, the ugly duckling baby Maitland, might not feel she was an asset to the family, but they were generous enough to love her anyway. And she had just enough Maitland blood running through her veins to make certain that she didn’t let them down. At least not professionally.

Which was why, sitting at her desk later that morning, she refused to back down when the man who serviced their current piping system tried to convince her not to invest in a new, upgraded one. Maitland Maternity, the clinic founded by her mother and late father almost twenty-five years ago, had outgrown its present system, and Ellie would not put the clinic’s patients—or reputation—at risk.

Once the man had left, she turned back to the financial statements Drake Logan, Maitland’s VP of finance, had left her.

“Ellie—?”

At the sound of the voice she froze. She’d been wrong. Things could get worse.

“—I’m sorry to barge in, but the phone just seemed so cold after all this time.”

Heart pounding, Ellie stared at the handsome man standing in her doorway. He wasn’t supposed to just show up at her office. He wasn’t supposed to show up at all. She’d gotten over him years ago. Wasn’t ever going to have to see him again.

“I can’t believe you’re here.” It was the only thought she had.

Forcing herself, she rose, offered her hand, pretended that warm touch of his calloused fingers did nothing to her.

The only plausible reason she could come up with for his sudden appearance was that he and his wife, Marla, needed the clinic’s services.

“You look great!” he said, admiration in his voice and in the steady brown gaze that was taking in every inch of her.

“So do you.” Gorgeous. Incredible. And in her office. Damn him.

“You’re the boss now, huh?” he asked. He looked around her big office, but only briefly, then his eyes focused back on her.

Nodding, Ellie started to sweat. Seeing him after all this time couldn’t mean anything to her. He couldn’t mean anything to her.

“I knew you’d make it to the top quicker than anyone,” he said, his voice full of easy camaraderie.

“Why are you here?” she blurted, feeling the need to get rid of him before she made a fool of herself and hugged him or something. Maybe he’d forgotten their last, devastating conversation, but she hadn’t. It had shaped every day of her life since.

“I need a favor.”

His voice was sexier than she remembered it. Deeper. “What’s it been, ten years?” she asked, trying to smile in spite of the tension. He actually thought that he could waltz in after all this time, and she’d be waiting to do his bidding.

Not that she could blame him completely. Practically every girl in their high school—Ellie included—had done just that. Sloan was definitely one of God’s gifts to the world’s female population, though one with a cruel twist when it had come to Ellie.

“’Bout that,” he said. He didn’t appear to be the least bit contrite about the ten year lapse, though age seemed to have taken the edge off his supreme self-confidence. “I’ve wanted to stop in many times, Ellie, to see you.”

“So why didn’t you?”

“I figured it was best just to leave well enough alone.”

Which was just about the best non-answer she’d ever heard.

“Until now,” she reminded him.

He shrugged. “I’m in trouble, and you’re the only one I know of who can help.”

She wasn’t going to be party to his and Marla’s family problems. No matter how nicely he asked.

Leaning forward, resting her thighs against her desk, Ellie crossed her arms over her chest. “So how’ve you been?” she asked, and then made herself continue, “How’s Marla?”

“I wouldn’t know.” He didn’t take his eyes off her. “She’s in New York.”

She hadn’t heard about that. But then, lately she’d been concerned about the problems in her own family.

“What’s she doing in New York?” Is she still your wife?

“Trying to act, last I heard.” His eyes continued to assess her. “We were divorced six months ago.”

Ellie sat down. Hard. Sloan was divorced. No one had told her.

“Y-you said you had a favor to ask.”

Divorced, he was more dangerous than ever. She had to get rid of him. To focus on what mattered. Her goals. The clinic. Getting through the day.

“I know it’s presumptuous, me coming in here like this after all this time, but I’m at my wits’ end, Ellie, and I don’t know where else to turn. We were pretty special friends once.”

Opening her mouth to grant him whatever he asked, Ellie bit her tongue, instead. She was working day and night trying to prove herself—and going to night school besides. She didn’t have time to spare for him. Or to risk another broken heart. Sloan Cassidy had had his chance.

“I’d never ask for myself—” Sloan’s big brown eyes were imploring her, and his body made an imposing figure in skin-tight, earth-worn denim and a corduroy shirt that fit his cowboy bulkiness to perfection.

“But the girls are getting so out of hand that if I don’t do something soon, it may be too late.”

The girls? Ellie swallowed, glad she’d bitten her tongue. Even after ten years, hearing about Sloan’s relations with the opposite sex still hurt. There’d never been just one girl in love with him, panting after him: there’d never been fewer than a dozen.

“What, exactly, is it you want from me?” She was curious, that was all. And maybe a bit of a masochist. Entertaining visions of herself posing as Sloan’s fiancée long enough to ward off the troublesome women, Ellie almost smiled again.

“Just some pointers, Ellie. Teach me how to raise them.”

“Raise them?”

“You know how I grew up, El. My own folks didn’t set such a hot example. I’d already been having trouble getting the dad stuff down right. I’m a complete failure at the mom part.”

Mom? Dad? Feeling a resurgence of the panic attack from earlier that morning, Ellie forced her fingers to relax their grip on the arms of her chair. “Just how old are they?” she asked. Sloan was a father? More than once? Somehow she’d just never pictured homecoming-queen, cheerleader-captain Marla having babies. Not even for Sloan.

“Eighteen months.” He looked desperate, standing there in front of her. Desperate and needy. Which was the only reason Ellie didn’t have him removed from her office.

“And?” He’d said girls, plural.

“That’s it. I have eighteen-month-old twin daughters who are holy terrors, and not particularly happy, either.”

The catch Ellie felt in her chest must be part of the panic attack she was fighting. It had absolutely nothing to do with the mention of Sloan and daughters in the same sentence. There was no reason why she should feel a longing at the mention that they were twins. Or a kinship, either.

“I have no idea what to do for them.”

Ellie didn’t do kids. Period. They weren’t in her five-year plan. She had to stay focused. To keep her mind on the things she could have, and off the things she couldn’t. To control what little about her life she could control.

“What makes you think I could help?” she asked as if from outside herself—morbidly curious, she supposed.

Sloan’s gesture encompassed her office and the clinic outside her door. “You’re in the baby business.”

“Wrong.” She shook her head. “I’m in the administration business.” She left the baby part of the Maitland family business to those who were qualified.

His eyes narrowed as he watched her fiddle with a mechanical pencil on top of her desk. “You’re a twin.” The words were softly spoken.

And Sloan knew how hard that had been for her, Ellie thought. Growing up in the shadow of her beautiful, vivacious sister. She shrugged. “Doesn’t make me an expert on raising children.”

Placing both hands on her desk, Sloan leaned forward until his eyes were almost level with hers. She could smell the musky scent of his aftershave, mixed with leather and outdoors and all that was Sloan. “Please, Ellie, at least think about it?”

This had to stop. “I can’t, Sloan.”

“Just think about it,” he said again, straightening. “At least meet them, then see how you feel.”

“No!” She stood, smoothing the skirt of her practical business suit, forcing herself to calm down. “I really don’t have time right now to take on another project, Sloan.” She spoke with every ounce of authority she possessed. And hoped it was enough.

Ellie wasn’t as relieved as she might have been when, without another word, Sloan nodded, turned and left. His last discerning glance haunted her for the rest of the afternoon, and she had an awful feeling he would be back.

THOSE DAMN INCREDIBLY blue eyes tormented Sloan as he turned his pickup truck away from Austin toward the open road and the relative safety of his ranch. Ellie’s eyes were still as filled with determination as they’d been when he’d known her ten years ago. Still emanating an intelligence that was intimidating, or challenging, depending on how you chose to look at it. Sloan, fool that he was, had always been more prone to rising to a challenge than wisely giving in to intimidation.

Ellie—still as sexy as ever.

All they’d ever been was friends. Great friends. On his side, best friends. Ellie had never known how he’d lusted after her. He’d made certain she’d never known.

Swerving so hard his tires shot gravel up past the roof of the truck, Sloan came to a sudden stop in the parking lot of a tavern he hadn’t visited in years. Ariel and Alisha were safe with Charlie’s sister for the afternoon. Their father needed a drink.

Too bad his housekeeper’s sister had to go back home to Arizona at the end of the week. Too bad she was already married and seventy years old.

Up at the bar a few minutes later, a cold mug of beer clasped in his fist, Sloan amended that last thought about Charlie’s sister, Mary. Too bad she was married. Seventy years old wasn’t a problem.

Right. And maybe cow manure could fly.

WHY DIDN’T THE CRYING STOP?

Rolling over groggily, raising a hand to push the cropped strands of dark hair out of her face, Ellie groaned. The family mansion was just too small for both her and the mystery baby. Only two months old, he still wasn’t sleeping through the night.

Consequently, neither was Ellie.

It was hard to get used to having a baby in the house, but the tiny boy had been abandoned on the steps of the clinic with a note claiming he was a Maitland, too, and Megan’s heart had gone out to the infant. She’d been made his foster mother until the child’s real parents were found.

Ellie winced. Her brothers had become prime suspects as the baby’s father, though she couldn’t make herself believe any of them had really created the disruptive human being down the hall.

She rolled over again and tried to ignore the baby’s cries, but they grew louder, more urgent. And it suddenly dawned on Ellie why that was.

She was in charge.

Amy, the nurse her mother had hired to care for the baby, was out of town for a couple of days for a family emergency. And Beth and Megan were out, probably until dawn, at a high-profile fund-raiser Ellie had begged not to attend. With all of the negative publicity Maitland Maternity had suffered through in the past month, it was imperative that the family be represented. But not by Ellie. She was still under close scrutiny after her appointment as the clinic’s administrator, and with her lack of sophisticated wit, and no typical Maitland knock ’em dead looks to make up for the lack, she’d been afraid of doing more harm than good. Or at least, that had been her excuse. She’d really just wanted a quiet night at home to regroup after the day she’d had.

Ellie dragged herself out of bed and slogged down the hall to the nursery Megan had set up in the wing Beth and Ellie shared at Maitland Mansion. “I’m coming,” she called to the hostile baby, picking up her pace a bit. After all, it wasn’t the little guy’s fault he’d had such rotten luck in life.

Unless, of course, he’d carried on this way right from the start and his poor mother had been as hopeless as Ellie in knowing how to quiet him.

“Shh, Cody,” she demanded as she entered the nursery, the air warm on legs left bare by her cotton shorts and matching short sleeved pajama top. Heart picking up speed as she looked at the beet-red face of the baby, she softened her voice. “Hey, little man, what’s up?”

With arms trembling—from lack of sleep, she told herself—Ellie reached down to scoop up the hot bundle. He wasn’t only hot, he was soaked. And not just from sweat and tears, though there was plenty of both.

The initial bout of crying stopped the moment Ellie picked Cody up out of his crib. His tear-drenched eyelashes blinked as he stared up at her. As well he should. He’d have no idea who this stranger holding him might be.

In spite of his soggy state, Ellie stopped and stared right back at the miniature Maitland. She’d never been this close to him before.

From the moment he’d shown up on the doorstep of the clinic, and Megan had announced she would be taking temporary custody of him, Ellie had entered a new goal in the log book in her mind. She wasn’t going to hold him the way her sister Beth kept doing. She couldn’t. Ellie was much more intense than Beth. She’d never learned to live for the moment the way her more outgoing sister had done since birth. And it made no sense to grow attached to a child who was in their home only temporarily.

There was no point in torturing herself with something she knew she would never have. Which was also why she never visited the nursery at the clinic unless she was there on official business. She’d learned a long time ago that the way to be happy—or at least successful—was to avoid distractions.

It went without saying that in Ellie’s book a virgin with no prospects at the age of twenty-five would likely never have a baby.

Ellie stared, frozen. The baby’s warmth seeped through her pajamas, along with other things, until his little face screwed up with displeasure once again. “Okay, hold on,” she said urgently as she rushed him over to his new change table. “I’m fairly certain I can figure out how to change a diaper.”

Actually, she knew she could. She’d changed hundreds of them during her teens when she’d filled her dateless nights with baby-sitting jobs and dreams of having babies of her own. Babies that would love her in spite of her quiet personality and drab looks.

Amazingly enough, her voice seemed to have a calming effect on baby Cody. As long as she was speaking, his howls stopped, and he stared up at her. Ellie kept up a stream of senseless chatter while she went to work on the baby’s wet diaper.

“I don’t know which one of my brothers—or cousins, for that matter—is responsible for you, little man, but I can promise you that we’ll find out eventually, and when we do, I’m going to choke the life out of him with my bare hands.”

The wet sleeper and diaper came off effortlessly. Ellie reconsidered what she’d just said in lieu of the baby’s sensibilities and the frown on his scrunched up little face.

“Okay, we’ll let him live, but only because you need a daddy to teach you how to play baseball,” she amended. “But I get to at least yell at him first, okay?”

Cody’s legs flailed as Ellie cleaned and powdered him before expertly applying a dry diaper and sleeper.

There were bottles of formula already made up in the refrigerator in one corner of the nursery, and a bottle warmer on the counter beside it. With the baby lodged in one arm, Ellie used her free hand to prepare Cody’s late-night meal.

She hated to think of one of her beloved older brothers being guilty of fathering this abandoned child. Which was maybe another reason why she’d refused to acknowledge the baby’s presence in their lives as little more than an administrator’s public relations problem.

“The truth is, little guy, that when I think about it, almost any one of them could be responsible.”

After testing the warming formula on the inside of her wrist, Ellie settled into the rocker her mother had had brought down from the attic. Until that night, Ellie had been hoping Cody wasn’t really a Maitland at all, but rather a scam on the part of some sick woman to tap into the Maitland fortune.

But holding the baby close to her breast, taking in features that were distinctive even at such a young age, she knew in her heart what Megan must have known from the minute she’d first unwrapped him in the doorway of Maitland Maternity a month ago. Cody could very well be a Maitland.

Sucking greedily, the baby ate, innocently unaware of the commotion his existence was causing in the lives of so many people. Ellie had only thought about the damage the baby’s sudden appearance was doing to the Maitland family and, by extension, the clinic. Now, as her heart and body warmed at the noisy sounds of the baby eating, as his little fist came to rest intimately against her breast, she couldn’t help but think about the damage that could be done to this innocent little child.

Was he to live with the stigma of his abandonment for his entire life? Was it going to remain like a dead weight, creating feelings of unworthiness that would follow him into adulthood?

Getting angrier, and more possessive, by the moment, Ellie gently burped Cody and rocked him long after he’d fallen asleep in her arms. Who, in her right mind, could hold this precious bundle in her arms and then abandon him? How could one of her relatives have slept so irresponsibly with such a woman?

And who was the baby’s father? R.J.? As Maitland Maternity’s president, he’d certainly have reasons not to come forward if he were responsible. But would his personal integrity allow him to stay silent? Of course not.

And what about Mitch? Ellie couldn’t believe he’d lied when he’d so sheepishly admitted that he hadn’t been with a woman in over a year. He was a fertility specialist. He’d know that eventually the baby’s paternity could be proven, once their mother approved the testing. He’d know it was useless not to come forward. Unless he’d donated some of his own sperm to his experimental bank and didn’t know it had been used…

Then there was Jake. A tear splashed against the sleeping baby’s face, and Ellie started guiltily, wiping the wet drop away. Jake was the most likely suspect of her three brothers. And the one she least wanted it to be. She adored all of her brothers, but Jake was special. He was different. He was her hero. He’d never have fathered this helpless child without knowing it. And he’d never have allowed the baby to be abandoned. No matter what lines Jake crossed in his life, he’d never cross that one.

Ellie rocked the baby until her muscles were cramped. An hour passed, then two, and still she wasn’t ready to give up her burden. It was a night out of time. A secret night, when Ellie could be Ellie, and no one would ever know; a night that would never ask questions.

Finally, when she was afraid her tears would wake the baby again, she laid him gently in his crib, covered his diaper plump rear with a light blanket and tiptoed back to her room. She’d hoped the stark familiarity of her room would shock her back to normalcy. Wiping the tears away, she wanted to pretend that they’d never fallen. That the tiny body in the other room hadn’t opened up a door she’d thought rusted shut years before.

Changing her stained pajamas for a clean pair, she climbed between her sheets, trying to soothe herself back to sleep using numbers, the way she’d been doing for most of her life. She started with smaller figures, afraid her concentration would be overstimulated by the larger ones she more commonly used these days. But even the smaller ones wouldn’t line up. They danced around on the stage in her mind. Changing colors. And form. Trying to escape, to get away from her before she could force them into their logical places.

And as she struggled, tossing and turning in her attempt to control the images in her head, the numbers were replaced by Sloan’s face. By two imaginary little female versions of his face. One plus two equals three. With baby Cody’s heat still warming her body, she couldn’t stop the images, couldn’t help wondering if Sloan’s baby girls would feel just as wonderful, just as right, up against her.

Then onto the scene came a fourth image. Three plus one, after all, always equaled four. Marla. The mother of Sloan’s children. The beautiful woman Sloan had never stopped dating during the entire time he’d known Ellie. The woman he’d been out with after he’d kissed Ellie so passionately.

She’d be a fool to open herself up to that kind of pain again. And Ellie Maitland was no fool.