The Baby Bet: His Secret Son. Joan Elliott Pickart
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here,” Forrest said. “We were talking earlier, and Michael and I thought the name Andrew Malone sounded familiar, that the guy even looked like someone we’d seen before.”
“And?” his mother said, hardly above a whisper.
“It finally hit us,” Forrest went on. “He’s Andrew Malone of Malone Construction. He’s built quite a few projects from plans we drew up. I even talked to him last year on a site. He’s from Santa Maria, but his outfit works all over the state, and he’s got a top-of-the-line reputation.”
“He’s also a nutcase,” Richard said, frowning. “He’s Uncle Robert’s son? Give me a break. He’s after something. Money, probably.”
“He doesn’t need money,” Ryan said. “Ted and I ran a check on him through our resources at the police department. Malone is well-set financially, and is squeaky clean as far as the law goes. I guess I should have told you that earlier, but we were all walking on eggs around the subject of Malone and what he accused Dad of. I don’t know what Malone wants, but I’ll find out. Oh, yeah. Guaranteed.”
“Ryan MacAllister,” Margaret said, “you are not to do your macho cop thing with Andrew Malone. This will be handled in a mature and nonviolent manner. Am I making myself clear?”
“No,” Ryan said.
“Ryan,” Margaret said, a definite warning tone to her voice.
Ryan sighed. “Yeah, okay, Mom—for now.”
“I’ll deck him for you, partner,” Ted said. “Your mom didn’t yell at me.”
“I just did, Ted Sharpe,” Margaret said, “and that goes for all of you. Michael, I’d like to go home, please. All of you go to your families and I’ll see you tomorrow…well, later today, considering the hour.”
Hugs were exchanged and the group left the waiting room.
Kara pressed fingertips to her aching temples, then walked slowly from the room with the intention of going to the locker area in the lower level of the hospital and changing out of her party dress.
After stopping at the nurses’ station and explaining that she was staying at the hospital and would have her pager turned on in case she was needed, she walked slowly down the hall, aware suddenly of how very weary she was.
As she approached the entrance to the intensive care unit, she halted. Andrew Malone had his back against the wall near the doorway. His arms were folded loosely over his chest and his eyes were closed. A dark shadow of a beard appeared on his face, and his hair was tousled slightly as though he’d been dragging a hand through it.
He looked so tired, Kara thought, and so very very alone. The MacAllister family was banded together, supporting each other, standing close as a unit to weather this storm that was threatening them.
But Andrew had no one.
She knew—oh, yes, she truly knew—how chilling that feeling was. There had been a time in her life when she’d had no one, had been frighteningly alone.
But then she’d been drawn into the warm loving embrace of the MacAllister family, had become one of them, had belonged, had been loved and made to feel special and wanted.
If what Andrew Malone claimed was true, if he was Robert’s son, then he deserved that warmth and caring, too, more than she ever had.
Kara sighed and shook her head.
She felt as though she was being pulled in two directions.
A part of her was still angry at Andrew for what he had done at that party. It was cold, and cruel, and ugly, and the ramifications were almost more than she could bear.
Yet another section of her being felt an ache in her heart for Andrew’s isolation, his aloneness.
The fact that he was still in the hospital said he was riddled with guilt about the outcome of his actions. He was standing vigil, waiting to learn what would happen to Robert, just as the entire family was.
Only, Andrew was all alone.
Kara sighed, decided that she was losing what was left of her exhausted mind, then walked forward slowly, stopping by Andrew’s side.
“Andrew?” she said softly.
He jerked away from the wall, blinked several times, then met Kara’s gaze. In the next instant he gripped her shoulders.
“Is he dead?” he said, his voice choked with emotion. “Did I kill him? Oh, God, please don’t tell me that Robert died.”
“No, no,” Kara said quickly. “Uncle Robert is holding his own. I saw you standing all alone and…”
Kara’s words trailed off as she lost her train of thought. She was suddenly aware of the incredible heat that was rushing through her from Andrew’s hands where they were still gripping her upper arms. Her breasts were heavy, achy, yearning for a soothing touch that only Andrew could provide.
Dear heaven, what was this man doing to her? She should step backward, force him to remove his hands, but she was pinned in place by the mesmerizing depths of his dark-brown eyes.
MacAllister eyes.
Oh, yes, those were MacAllister eyes. Andrew Malone was, indeed, Uncle Robert’s son. The more she looked at Andrew, the clearer the resemblance became. Andrew was a MacAllister.
“You…you should get some rest, too, Andrew,” she said, hearing the thread of breathlessness in her voice. “There’s no purpose to be served by your staying, pushing yourself beyond the point of exhaustion. Go get a few hours’ sleep.”
Take your hands off her, Malone, Andrew ordered himself, but didn’t follow his own directive. He needed to touch her, to be connected to her like this, just for another moment. She was filling him with warmth, chasing away the chill of his loneliness. But that warmth was rapidly becoming heated desire, churning and coiling low in his body.
“Kara,” he said, his voice raspy.
He wanted to nestle her close to him, to wrap his arms around her, to kiss those delectable lips of hers, then make sweet love with her for hours. Ah, man, he was going up in flames.
“Andrew, I…” Kara said. Want you to kiss me, hold me. “We’re both very tired. We’ve been through an extremely stressful ordeal and we’re not thinking clearly.”
“You’re feeling what I am, aren’t you?” he said. Andrew shook his head and let his hands drop to his sides. “We’re related, for crying out loud. What am I doing?”
“No, we’re not, but that’s beside the point,” Kara said, wrapping her hands around her elbows.
“You don’t believe me, do you? You don’t believe I’m Robert MacAllister’s son.”
“Yes, I do,” she said. “You have the MacAllister eyes. When I look at your features, I can see Uncle Robert in you. But we’re not related, because I’m not a MacAllister.”
“I don’t understand what you mean. I also don’t understand why you’re speaking to me, expressing concern for me. You made it perfectly clear that you despise me for what I did. Believe me, I’m not crazy about myself at the moment, either.”
“I do despise you for what you did at that hotel, but…oh, I don’t know. I’m so confused. I was very quick to pass judgment on you,” Kara said, “because I was so worried about Uncle Robert. I’m still upset about his condition, not knowing if he’ll make it through the critical next twenty-four hours. But I’m the last person in the world who should be censuring another person’s actions.”
“Why? What do you mean? And if you’re not a MacAllister, then who are you?”
Kara sighed. “I guess I’m not making much sense. Perhaps…perhaps we can discuss this after we’ve had some rest.”
“No,