The Tycoon And I. Kandy Shepherd
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time are you expected back at the hospital?”
“Not until three. It’s best if my ex and I keep our time together at a minimum. Molly has enough to deal with. She doesn’t need to see her parents arguing.”
“You still have a couple of hours until you have to be back. Why don’t you take a nap and later I’ll give you a ride to the hospital?”
His offer filled her with a warmth that she hadn’t felt in a long time. “I couldn’t ask you to do that. You don’t even know me.”
“You aren’t asking. I’m offering. And after I kept you up late last night, I owe you this.”
“But it isn’t necessary—
“It’s still drizzling outside. You don’t need to get wet again. So do we have a deal?”
“How is it a deal? What do you get out of helping me?”
“Let’s just say it feels good being able to help someone.”
She had a feeling there was more to his statement than he let on. Was he wishing that someone would help him? What could a wealthy, sexy bachelor need help with?
She looked into his blue-gray eyes. “Are you sure?”
“I am. Now do you promise you won’t go sneaking off again?”
She was exhausted. And he seemed determined to be a Good Samaritan. What would it hurt to accept his offer?
“I promise.”
* * *
A ball of sympathy and uneasiness churned in Lucas’s gut. He knew all too well the hell a parent went through when they felt as if they’d lost control of their children’s safety. When his ex-wife had up and left him, she’d written only a brief note saying she’d take good care of their little girl. Until his private investigator had tracked her down in California, he hadn’t been able to function.
This thing with Kate hit too close to home. But how could he turn his back on her when her daughter was in such shaky circumstances?
He needed time to think. In fact, that’s all he’d been doing since Kate went upstairs to lie down. But it was almost three and he hadn’t seen any sign of her. The memory of her pale face and the dark smudges under her eyes had him thinking she was still asleep. Perhaps she’d forgotten to set the alarm on her phone. Or maybe she was so tired that she’d slept right through it. He couldn’t blame her.
He should wake her, but the thought of going upstairs left a sour taste in his mouth. He hadn’t been upstairs in a long time. There was nothing up there but gut-wrenching memories of everything he’d lost—his family...his little girl.
Still he had to do something. He’d given his word that he’d get her there on time. The thought of a little girl—the image of his own daughter crystallized in his mind—sick and alone spurred him into action.
He moved to the bottom of the steps. “Kate!” Nothing. “Kate, are you awake? It’s time to head to the hospital.”
He waited, hoping to hear a response or the echo of footsteps. There were no sounds. Surely she hadn’t left again without saying anything. Unease churned in his gut. No. She’d promised and he sensed that she prided herself on keeping her word.
“Kate, we need to go!”
The seconds ticked by and still nothing. There was only one thing left to do. His gaze skimmed up the staircase. He’d been up and down those stairs countless times throughout his life and he’d never thought anything of it. Then came the day when he’d climbed to the second floor only to find his wife was gone along with his baby girl. The memory slugged him squarely in the chest, knocking the breath from his lungs.
That never-to-be-forgotten night he’d cleared out his personal belongings and moved to the first floor. He’d wanted to avoid the memories...the pain. Now because of Kate and her little girl, he had to climb those steps again.
Putting one foot in front of the other, he started up the stairs. He faltered as he reached the landing with the large stained-glass window, but he didn’t turn back. He couldn’t. This was too important.
He turned, taking the next set of steps two at a clip. His chest tightened and his hands tensed.
Don’t look around. Don’t remember. Just keep moving.
His strides were long and fast. He kept his face forward, resisting the instinct to survey his surroundings, to let the memories crowd into his mind—not that they were ever far away.
Lucas stopped in front of her door and blew out a pent-up breath. He rapped his knuckles on the heavy wood door. “Kate, are you awake?”
Nothing.
He knocked again. Still no response.
Was it possible she was sick? Walking around in the cold air while soaking wet certainly couldn’t have done her any good. And he wasn’t going downstairs until he knew she was all right.
He grasped the handle and pushed the door open. The drapes were drawn, allowing shadows to dance across the spacious room. When his eyes adjusted, he spotted Kate sprawled over the king-sized bed. Her breathing was deep. The stress lines were erased from her beautiful face. And her pink lips were slightly parted and very desirable.
He squashed his line of thought. Now wasn’t the time to check her out, no matter how appealing he found her. Relationships weren’t in the cards for him. In the end, people just ended up hurting each other. And he wanted no part of that.
“Kate.” His voice was soft so as to not scare her. When she didn’t stir, he stepped closer. “Kate, wake up.”
She rolled over and stretched. The robe fell open, revealing a lace-trimmed pink top that hugged her curves and rode up, exposing her creamy white stomach. The breath caught in his throat. She was so gorgeous. He shouldn’t look—he should turn away. But what fun would that be? He was, after all, a man. A little glimpse of her fine figure wouldn’t hurt anyone. Right?
Her gaze latched on to him and the moment ended. She bolted upright.
“Lucas. What are you doing here?” She glanced down, cinching the robe closed. “I mean I know it’s your house and all...but what are you doing in my room...umm, your guest room.” She pressed a hand to her mouth, halting the babbling.
“I tried calling up the steps and even knocked on the door, but you were out to the world.”
“What do you want?”
The question was a loaded one and set off one inappropriate response after the other. The first of which was for her to move over in bed. The next thought was for her to kiss him.
He cleared his throat, hoping his voice would sound normal. “It’s time to go back to the hospital.” He turned for the door. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”
Drip... Drip... He paused and listened. Drip...
Lucas turned on his heels. “Is the faucet in the bathroom leaking?”
“Umm...no.”
“But that sound. Something’s dripping.” He squinted into the shadows. Frustrated, he moved to the light switch. “Can’t you hear it?”
“Of course I hear it. I’m not deaf.”
He flipped on the overhead light and spotted a wastebasket in the corner. A quick inspection of the ceiling showed water gathering around the bloated section of plaster. Droplets formed and dropped. Bits of fallen plaster littered the floor.
“What the—” He remembered his manners just before cursing. His mother had been the epitome of proper form. Carringtons should never lower themselves with vulgar language, she’d say. Especially not in front of guests.
“It’s been like that since the rain started. You need a new roof.”