Dad By Choice. Marie Ferrarella
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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