Soon To Be Brides. Joan Elliott Pickart
Читать онлайн книгу.
now.
Hell, he was only thirty-two years old. He had plenty of time to join the rank and file of the MacAllisters who toted diaper bags to family gatherings. Plenty of time.
What had happened tonight at the Mathises’ house was perfectly understandable. He’d been caught up in the emotions of the people there. He’d felt a momentary sense of aloneness and…okay…loneliness simply because he was odd man out in what had been a rather unusual situation.
There. He’d figured it all out. It had just taken a bit of logical thinking to get his head on straight again. He could now go on the trip to China, enjoy the entire thing, spend time with the very lovely Caitlin Cunningham, then return home and shortly afterward return to the hospital and the career that gave him everything he needed in his life now.
His reputation for being one of the best public-relations directors of a large hospital was rock solid across the country, and he had several awards framed and hanging on his office wall. The name Matt MacAllister meant something in his field and he would continue to maintain that level of expertise.
Matt rolled onto his stomach, closed his eyes, mentally patted himself on the back for his rather genius-level thinking that had solved the jumbled maze in his mind, then drifted off to sleep.
But through the night he dreamed of Caitlin. He was standing next to her in a room where they were surrounded by babies, each holding up little arms toward them, wanting to be held, comforted, loved. Wanting to be taken home.
Chapter Three
The next day was another long stretch of hours at the hospital as Matt once again dealt with Homer Holmes, the note-taking attorney. Matt finally glanced at his watch and inwardly cheered.
“Time to wrap it up, Homer,” Matt said. “I have an important appointment to keep. In fact, we’ve covered everything that is pending. Starting tomorrow you’re on your own.”
“Listen, Matt,” Homer said. “I’ve been admiring that miniature antique scale you have on the corner of your desk.”
“The scale?” Matt said. “My grandfather gave that to me months ago. The workmanship is exquisite,don’t you think? The chains holding the two small trays have the exact number of links, you can see the intricate scrollwork on the base…even the two gold coins in that one tray are antiques. It was a very special gift from a remarkable man, and I treasure it.”
“That’s what I was getting at. It’s obviously worth a great deal of money, and I’m afraid I might bump it, send it toppling to the floor, harm it in some way. Don’t you think it would be a good idea to take it home during this time you’ll be away from the hospital?”
Matt shrugged. “I suppose I could but… No, I’ll just move it to the bookshelves against the wall. I like to be able to see it, and this is where I spend the majority of my time.”
Matt picked up the scale, crossed the room and set it carefully on a shelf on the bookcase.
“There,” he said. “Feel better?”
“Much,” Homer said, nodding. “Is it a family heirloom?”
“No.” Matt stared at the scale. “My grandfather chose it especially for me. He selected special gifts for each of his grandchildren. I’ve heard the story behind some of the presents, the fact that our grandfather was delivering an important message to the recipient with the gift.
“In my case, there’s no hidden message as far as I can figure out. It’s just an extremely rare and terrific present.” He looked at his watch again. “I’m out of here. Take good care of my baby while I’m gone.”
“Your…what?”
“The hospital. It’s where I direct all my energies, like a parent would toward a child and… Never mind. Bye.”
Matt strode from the room, leaving a rather bemused Homer behind.
Caitlin frowned at her reflection in the full-length mirror on the inside of her closet door.
Satisfied now? she asked herself. This was the third outfit she’d tried on. Well, she wasn’t changing her clothes again. Jeans, tennis shoes and a peach-colored string sweater. That was it. Except… maybe the blue knit top would be better because…
“You are acting like an idiot, Caitlin Cunningham,” she told her reflection, “and I’ve had enough of this nonsense. This isn’t a date, it’s a mission, the purpose of which is to complete the nursery for your daughter.”
Caitlin spun around, snatched her purse off the double bed and left the bedroom. In the living room she placed her purse on an end table and sank onto the sofa.
Matt MacAllister, she fumed, had driven her crazy the entire day. Every time she looked at the match pictures she’d placed on the corner of her desk at work, the image of Matt inched its way into her mental vision.
In a way, that made sense. She needed to get the nursery ready.
Matt was going to make it possible for her to accomplish that, so when she gazed at the photographs of Miss M., it stood to reason that Matt would trek right in front of her mind’s eye, too.
So, okay, it made sense…to a point. What didn’t compute was why when she thought about Matt she got a funny flutter in her stomach and a sharp remembrance of Matt’s strong-but-gentle arm encircling her shoulders last night. Thinking about that caused a strange heat to begin to swirl within her and… No doubt about it…Matt was driving her right over the edge.
Well, in all fairness to herself she was admittedly in the midst of an emotional upheaval because she was about to become a mother. After all these months, the hope, the dream, the prayer had finally come true. She was momentarily off kilter as she attempted to adjust to the wonderful, albeit a tad terrifying, news, and so she was overreacting to things she would normally just take in stride. Like Matt.
“Caitlin,” she said aloud, “that was nothing short of brilliant the way you figured all that out. Thank goodness that mishmash is solved.”
The doorbell rang and Caitlin jerked at the sudden noise, her heart racing as she hurried to the front door.
Matt stood on Caitlin’s front porch and nodded in approval.
Nice place, he thought. Caitlin’s home was small, as were the other houses on the block, but the neighborhood exhibited a great deal of pride of ownership. Caitlin’s cottage…now, that had a nice ring to it…was painted country-blue with decorative white shutters edging the windows. The minuscule front yard was a lush carpet of green grass, plus a tall mulberry tree. When he’d pulled in to the driveway, he’d gotten a glimpse of a wooden fence enclosing the backyard. That was good. Miss M. would have a safe place to play. Well, so far, the outside of the house suited Caitlin. If she answered the door and let him in he’d get a glimpse of the inside.
Matt pressed the doorbell and a moment later Caitlin opened the door.
“Hi,” Matt said. Oh, hey, what Ms. Cunningham did for a pair of snug jeans was something to behold.
Caitlin smiled as she stepped back to allow Matt to enter. “Come in, Matt.” Matt MacAllister in jeans and a black knit shirt was causing that funny little flutter to slither down her spine again. Darn it. “How are you?” She closed the door.
“Fine.” Matt swept his gaze over the living room. “Well, as fine as anyone could be after spending the day with an attorney who writes down everything, including what he had for lunch.” He paused. “This is a very nice house, Caitlin. I like oak furniture myself and your colors are pretty…mint-green, and what would you call that? Salmon?”
Caitlin laughed. “I think I would call those colors a mistake for sticky toddler fingers. I didn’t know when I made these selections that there would be a busy little girl living here. I’ll worry about that later. Nothing can dim my excitement about becoming a mother.”
“Good for you.” Matt wandered across