A Weaver Holiday Homecoming Page 11

  It was the kind of earnestness that only people who’d never experienced real tragedy could exhibit.

  Yet that didn’t apply to Mallory at all.

  Which made her a contradiction.

  A very beautiful, very tempting contradiction.

  One who was thankfully oblivious to the direction of his thoughts, judging by her expression, which was as open now as it had been closed and almost frantic earlier.

  “I respect your mother, Ryan. She’s a brilliant physician and obviously devoted to her family. And…I like her. I like every member of your family whom I’ve met since I’ve come to town.”

  “Sometimes it feels like the only people in this town are family,” he said gruffly. It was as much a curse as it was a blessing. And it was probably one of the reasons most of his cousins at one time or another felt some compulsion to leave.

  Invariably, they came back.

  Just as he had.

  “Well, there are more people related to you than I even realized.” Her soft lips curved upward. “Chloe’s teacher, for instance.” Her expression went serious again and he found himself wanting to get back that hint of amusement.

  Amusement was so much easier than earnestness.

  “So do I come here and immediately insert ourselves into your family’s lives because I believe Chloe has a right to know who her father is without any thought to how it might affect any of them?” She looked away. “Even more importantly, how it will affect you?”

  “You are a parent. You put the protection of your kid first,” he said evenly. He realized his hands were curling into fists and he deliberately relaxed them again. Not all of the kids that Krager had bought and sold like a commodity had come from uncaring parents.

  “And I do put Chloe’s welfare first,” Mallory retorted with some spirit. “I’m not naive, Ryan. There are people out there who have no business having children, much less raising them. People who are technically families who are worse than enemies could ever be. But that’s not the Clays. Do you think I would have left a very busy career, pulled Chloe out of her school and yanked both her and Kathleen away from their friends if I hadn’t done enough research about your family to know they weren’t serial killers? Give me some credit!”

  He shoved to his feet.

  She was right.

  The Clays, to a one, were all decent people.

  Strong-willed and loving women.

  Courageous and honorable men.

  All of them heroic in some way, on a kaleidoscope of scales.

  He was the one who hadn’t lived up to the family legacy.

  He was the one who had failed.

  He was a Clay, but he didn’t deserve the heritage or the name. Maybe once he had. But not anymore.

  He wasn’t the son his parents had raised. He couldn’t be the son they wanted.

  But they had a grandchild now. And that—that was one thing he could give them.

  Because a young woman had once wanted a baby despite the danger. Because another young woman hadn’t given up when she so easily could have. And probably should have.

  What was it about the Keegan women?

  He rubbed at the pain in his forehead.

  He knew what it was about this particular Keegan and it had his guts tied into a knot.

  “What’d my parents do when you arrived in town?”

  Her hands spread, palms upward. “Do? Well, nothing. I mean your mother had already done a lot what with setting things up for me with Dr. Yarnell.”

  “They didn’t come over to see Chloe? Didn’t invite you to their place?” Like the rest of the family, his folks were big on…family.

  She shook her head. “I think…your mother probably felt she’d done as much as she should without your knowing.”

  More likely, his mother had been afraid he’d cut and run.

  Disappear.

  And hadn’t he been contemplating doing just that? Not just when Chloe had been at the diner with her do-gooder dollar but long before then.

  And since then.

  “Well, I know now,” he said evenly.

  “Right.” She rose, brushing her palms nervously against her thighs. “So, what…how do you want to proceed?”

  The lapels of her jacket parted, giving him a glimpse of curve-molding lace beneath that thin ivory blouse. And beneath that lace, the not so pale shadow of a very tight nipple.

  He grabbed his coat from the back of the kitchen chair where she must have left it when they’d gotten back from the hospital with Chloe.

  Yeah, he was escaping. But it was either leave now, or pull Mallory into his arms and delve beneath that jacket, that blouse and that lace. And once he started, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop.

  And that was something he’d never been afraid of before. He’d never known a woman who could make him question his own control.

  She was watching him with a faint frown that tugged her level eyebrows closer over her patrician nose. “Ryan?”

  “I’ll arrange a meal or something with my folks,” he said abruptly. “Tell ’em to mind their p’s and q’s since Chloe doesn’t know anything, yet.” His jaw tightened. “But at least they’ll have a chance to start getting to know her.”

  Mallory’s lips parted. She pressed her curled hand to the center of her chest. It only succeeded in drawing the thin fabric of her blouse more tightly against her breasts. “Okay.” It was more of a breath than a word.

  He pushed open the kitchen door.

  The snowfall had gotten worse. No longer a few flurries, it was falling hard and fast.

  Pretty much the way he felt around Mallory.

  He looked back at her.

  She was still staring after him. Hadn’t moved an inch.

  “I wasn’t in love with Cassie,” he said, then wished to hell that he hadn’t when Mallory’s amber eyes widened and she took a step toward him.

  Involuntarily, he figured, judging by the way she pulled herself up short.

  “Oh.” A swallow worked down her lovely throat. “Okay.”

  Only nothing really was okay, and they both knew it.

  So he stepped out into the blowing snow and pushed the door closed after him.

  Chapter Ten

  Mallory’s hand hovered over the telephone situated on the corner of Dan Yarnell’s oversize wood desk.

  Should she call Ryan?

  It was Wednesday afternoon. She hadn’t heard from him since Monday night.

  Not that he’d said how quickly he’d arrange something with his parents and Chloe, but for some reason she’d expected to hear from him by now.

  Some reason?

  That was a laugh. She didn’t even have to close her eyes to summon up the memory of his face as he’d left her house the other night. The blue flame that had seemed to burn in his eyes when he’d looked at her.

  A flame that had been a world away from any glimpse of grief.

  I wasn’t in love with Cassie. His deep voice whispered through her thoughts.

  Her fingers curled into her palm. She drew her hand away from the phone without touching it. Annoyed with herself, she added the lab results she’d been studying to the medical file she’d been making notes on, slapped the folder closed and took it with her out to the reception area. “Dee Crowder was the last patient for the day, right?” Mallory set the patient file for the pretty elementary school teacher on top of Nina’s rigidly organized desk.

  Nina barely glanced up from her computer. “Do you have another appointment on your schedule?”

  “Ah…no.” She forced a smile. With the possible exception of having to reschedule her appointments the day that Chloe had broken her arm, Mallory couldn’t think of any reason since she’d come to fill in for Dan that could have so thoroughly earned the woman’s dislike.

  “Why don’t you cut out early,” she offered, since it was only the middle of the afternoon. A few extra hours were usually welcomed, particularly at this time of the year when everyone seemed frantic to
find more time for the holidays.

  But the gray eyes that Nina turned on her looked glacial. “Dr. Yarnell’s office is open until four o’clock every weekday.”

  “Well.” Didn’t she feel told off? “If you change your mind, feel free to take off.” She let the matter drop and headed back to the office at the rear of the building.

  Yarnell’s setup was pretty straightforward. Four examining rooms, two on each side of the hallway leading back to his office. And in front of it all, was Nina the guard-dragon.

  Feeling uncharitable and not liking it, Mallory closed the door to the office and sat down again behind the wide desk that she still didn’t feel at home behind, despite the weeks she’d been there.

  Ignoring the silent telephone, she picked up one of the framed photographs of Chloe that she’d positioned on the crowded credenza behind the desk and reminded herself that everything she’d done lately had been for her.

  If it weren’t for Chloe, she’d still be back in New York, where she was just one of a half-dozen low men on the totem pole in a practice that boasted eight partners. She’d have a never-ending back-to-back stream of patients to fit into too little time, and she certainly wouldn’t end up with hours to spare.

  She glanced out the window beside the desk. There was a house across the street, smack dab between an automotive garage and an antique store that had sported a large Closed sign from the day that Mallory had arrived. In the yard of the house, though, someone had built a snowman.

  It was not as large as the one Chloe and Ryan had built before it had snowed, but it still made her smile a little.

  It was short-lived, though, when her thoughts turned again, too easily, to the puzzle that was Ryan Clay.

  She replaced the picture frame on the credenza next to the small aquarium that Nina had warned her not to disturb and pressed her hands over her face.

  Why hadn’t he called? Had he changed his mind?

  Maybe the leisurely patient schedule wasn’t such a good thing after all. It gave her too much time for wayward thoughts.

  She let out a breath and pushed away from the desk again. Coat and purse in hand, she walked back out to Nina’s desk. “I’m leaving,” she said, stating the obvious.

  Predictably, Nina looked disapproving. “You’re the doctor.”

  “That’s what all of those diplomas and certificates on the wall in the office say,” Mallory returned. “Page me if you need me,” she said, and walked out without waiting for the woman to explode.

  Fortunately, Mallory wasn’t working for Nina. Her agreement was with Nina’s boss, Dr. Yarnell, and he was tramping around Asia somewhere for months yet.

  Outside, she quickly pulled on her coat and climbed in her car. Thanks to the new battery that Ryan had put in, it started right up. Since she’d already done a round at the hospital, she didn’t turn in that direction when she left the office, but headed, instead toward the shops that were located on Main Street.

  A lot of the nurses at the hospital had recommended a particular shop there, Classic Charms, as a good place to find unusual gifts and Kathleen was still on her Christmas list to be taken care of. She’d make that her first stop. And after that, she’d hit Shop-World and make sure she was all set for Chloe’s birthday party.

  It was there, standing in line at the big discount store with a basket on her arm filled with little-girl trinkets to fill Chloe’s gift bags with that she felt a tap on her shoulder and looked back to see the man-of-her-thoughts standing behind her.

  He had a fifty-pound bag of dog food slung over his shoulder as if it weighed nothing.

  “What are you doing here?” She realized she was probably staring at him like some infatuated schoolgirl.

  He tapped the immense bag with an ironic finger. “Cheapest place to get it.”

  “I didn’t know you had a dog.” He hadn’t mentioned it when Chloe was on her puppy tangent.

  “Don’t.” He didn’t elaborate. “I tried calling you about an hour ago. Your nurse said you walked out.”

  She exhaled. “She actually used that term?” She could tell by his expression that Nina had. “And she’d probably delight in using it with any patient who called in, too,” she murmured. The customer in front of her was finished and she moved forward, setting her items on the conveyor belt. “The schedule was free and I told her to page me if she needed me.”

  “You don’t have to justify yourself to me. You’re the doctor.”

  She found herself smiling a little at that. “So what did you call about?”

  “Can you make dinner tonight?”

  Her heart stuttered almost as badly as her car had before the engine died. She was quite aware of the clerk’s attention moving back and forth between her and the man behind her in line. They were the only two people in sight who didn’t seem to be purchasing holiday items. “Tonight should be all right. I’ll let Gram know that she’ll be on her own—”

  “Bring her along.”

  “I’m sure she’d like that.” She handed over her cash to the clerk and moved out of the way with her two plastic bags while he paid for the dog food, which he hefted once again over his shoulder. “What time,” she asked when they walked outside to the parking lot. “And where?”

  “My parents’ place. Where are you parked?” He angled that direction when she pointed. “I’ll pick you up around six.”

  She eyed him. Overhead, the cloudless sky was an icy blue. There was a steady breeze that toyed with the dark hair falling across his forehead and, in the strong sunlight, she picked out even more strands of silver. “Are you sure you’re ready to do this?” He didn’t look as if he was. If anything, it appeared that he’d rather be on another continent than arranging this particular get-together.

  “No.” His lips twisted. “But that’s not a reason to hold off any longer.”

  She had no comment for that. With every step forward, her certainty that she was doing the right thing seemed to take a step backward.

  They reached her car and she stowed her purchases in the trunk alongside the pretty shopping bag holding the Irish wool sweater she’d bought for Kathleen at Classic Charms, and the piñata she’d picked up at the dime store.

  She was ready to close the trunk when Ryan picked up the wire loop at the top of the castle-shaped piñata. “Looks like party stuff.”

  “It is. Seven girls from Chloe’s class. This Saturday.”

  “Lucky you,” he said drily, and let go of the wire.

  She closed the trunk. “You can come,” she said, even though she wasn’t entirely sure it was a good idea. “I should have told you that before.”

  “Eight seven-year-old girls?” He visibly shuddered.

  “Chloe would love it.”

  “Now you’re playing dirty.”

  That wasn’t her intention. “Okay, so Chloe will probably be plenty busy with her little friends. I just didn’t want you to think you weren’t welcome.”

  With a shrug, he pulled the bag off his shoulder and stood it on the ground to lean against his leg.

  She realized she was staring at the solid bulge of jean-clad thigh and quickly looked upward. The gaze she encountered was no less disturbing. Probably more.

  “Your daughter is going to have relatives coming out of the woodwork once word gets out about her,” he warned. “How’s she going to take that?”

  “She’s your daughter, too,” she said, though her throat tightened around the words. She was used to having total control where her daughter was concerned. But he was Chloe’s father. Weren’t his rights on a par with hers?

  His lips tightened a little. He glanced around the parking lot that was only partially filled with cars. “All right. When she finds herself in the midst of a couple dozen relatives, how is our daughter going to handle it?”

  It was the first time he’d verbally acknowledged Chloe as his and that’s what should have struck her.

  Instead, it was the intimacy in those words, our daughter, that had nervous
energy ricocheting through her. Mallory wished that she could attribute it specifically to Chloe, but honesty made her admit at least to herself that it was the “our” part that made her knees feel shaky.

  She squeezed the car keys in her hand, giving herself something else to focus on, even if it was only the discomfort of jagged-edged keys digging into her palm. “Chloe will be perfectly fine. She’s a well-adjusted, caring and friendly child. There’s no reason to think otherwise. You’re the one with…issues.”

  “And I suppose you have a diagnosis?”

  His deep voice was silky smooth and she realized that his tall, broad form was blocking the path to her car door. Instead of being alarmed though, the jolt that worked through her was distinctly…aroused.

  Which was ridiculous.

  They were standing in the parking lot of Shop-World. Who had their knees go weak over a man in such a place?

  Foolish question. Dr. Mallory Keegan did.

  “Maybe I would if I understood what your issues were,” she countered, aiming for crisp and missing by a mile. “You know…everything about us. But we—” as in I “—know hardly anything about you.”

  “Everything?” He shook his head. “Not even close.” He found her hand and lifted it, slowly prying open her fingers to reveal the reddening splotches. They were not quite welts, but they would have been with a little more time. “Shame,” he tsked almost under his breath.

  He slid the keys from her grasp and stole her breath right out of her body when he lifted her palm even higher and his breath—very, very warm in contrast to the thirty-some degree day—caressed her skin.

  She knew she should pull her hand away. Curl her fingers up again. Do something, anything, but stand there and wait with agonizing anticipation for him to close even that breath-size space between his lips and her open, offered, palm.

  She was a doctor, for pity’s sake. Women’s bodies and health issues were her particular field of expertise. She knew the science behind chemistry and sexual attraction. Knew the mechanics behind sex, period, and even though it had been a while, had at least a passing personal acquaintance with it.

  But, oh heaven, she couldn’t think of any science that could explain this mindless yearning.