Peekaboo Baby Page 8

  She was shaking her head even before he finished. “He wouldn’t hurt me.”

  “He already has, Delaney. You’re a nervous wreck.” To prove his point, he took her hand and showed her that her fingers were trembling.

  “That reaction’s not solely because of my father.” She pulled her hand from his, turned and headed back toward the nursery.

  Ryan filled in the blanks. He was partly responsible for what she was going through. In fact, perhaps more so than her father. Because if her father often threatened her, she might be immune to it.

  Even though God knows how.

  But she wouldn’t be immune to the questions he’d raised about her son. Those questions no doubt threatened her in the worse way possible.

  Feeling lower than dirt for adding to her misery, Ryan followed her to the nursery. She held on to the side of the crib, gripping it hard, and stared down at Patrick. When Ryan walked closer, he realized the baby had fallen back to sleep. With all the shouting, it was a surprise that Patrick hadn’t started crying.

  That riled him.

  No child should have to go through something like that. The shouting. The fighting. The anger. And he should know. He’d endured years of it living in foster care and with distant relatives who didn’t want him around.

  “My father doesn’t come here often,” Delaney said. “In fact, his last visit was before Patrick was born.”

  It wasn’t much of a consolation.

  Besides, an infrequent upheaval was still an upheaval. Something neither she nor Patrick needed in their lives.

  Ryan joined her, and he stared down into the crib. Despite the emotion and turmoil caused by Nash’s visit, one look at that face, and Ryan lost his anger and fury.

  Talk about a cure for all kinds of things.

  Even though he had no proof that this little boy was his son, the bond was already there. Or maybe it was simply a matter of wanting to protect Patrick.

  And Delaney.

  His need to keep her safe was as strong as it was for the little boy who lay sleeping. Ryan wanted to blame it on the kiss that shouldn’t have happened.

  That shouldn’t have felt the way it did.

  And it sure as heck shouldn’t have been that memorable.

  Along with the pleasure from the kiss, he’d also gotten a hefty dose of guilt. Until today, about a half hour ago, he’d considered himself a married man. Ironic, since technically he hadn’t been married since Sandra died. However, his heart and soul had never quite grasped that technicality.

  Until that kiss.

  It had changed everything.

  “Should we do the DNA test while he’s asleep?” Delaney whispered.

  But she didn’t wait for him to answer. A good thing, too. Because she’d managed to surprise him yet again.

  She reached into his jacket pocket and extracted the kit. Ryan didn’t trust his voice to say anything. Not that he would have known what to say anyway. Thank you didn’t seem nearly adequate.

  He watched as she took the swab, slipped it into Patrick’s mouth and rubbed it against the inside of his cheek. Patrick stirred a little, making sounds of protest, and his chubby fist swatted at the intrusion. However, the moment Delaney took it from his mouth, he settled back into a peaceful sleep.

  She placed the swab back into the plastic bag, but instead of handing it to Ryan, she placed it on the changing table next to the crib. “I’ll have the test done, and I’ll let you know the results.”

  And she would.

  Ryan didn’t doubt that.

  But by doing the test solo, it also meant Delaney had to deal with the outcome—alone. Not his first choice for the way things should happen, but he didn’t think she would budge on this.

  “The address of the lab is on the bag,” he said. “If you want to use some other place, that’s fine.”

  She nodded and looked away.

  Oh, yeah. This was ripping her to pieces, and after that kiss, Ryan wasn’t sure she’d appreciate any attempt by him to comfort her. Besides, he might have succeeded in getting her to do the DNA test, but there was another equally important matter to be dealt with.

  “Do you believe what happened the other night was really an accident?” he asked. Hopefully, it was a start to what would be a persuasive argument.

  Delaney stared at him. “I want to believe it, but I just don’t know.”

  Good. She had doubts, and that was progress. Now, for step two. “Even if your father wasn’t behind the wheel of that car, someone was. And you know what? It might not matter if the person was out to get you, me, or both of us.”

  She frowned. “Is there a point to all of this?”

  “Absolutely. I don’t think it’s safe for you to stay here alone.” Ryan watched his words register. By degrees. Degrees that clearly didn’t please her.

  “You said you had enemies. If the person is after you, then…” She stopped.

  Ryan hoped they’d just made a huge leap of progress.

  “That’s a huge if, isn’t it, Delaney?” he asked. “It’s also an unnecessary chance to take. A chance I don’t want you to take.”

  “Because of Patrick,” she finished.

  “And because of you.”

  Oh, yeah.

  That registered all right.

  Delaney sank down into the rocking chair. “This is about that kiss, isn’t it? Well, it shouldn’t be. That was an adrenaline reaction. Nothing more. You hear that? Nothing. More. I won’t let it cloud my judgment or cause me to do something I shouldn’t do.”

  Maybe if she repeated it enough, one of them would start to believe it.

  Not him, of course.

  But Delaney could perhaps convince herself.

  “Adrenaline, huh?” Ryan repeated. That was as good a reason as any. “But a kiss doesn’t change the issues of security, and you’ve got some huge issues.”

  She gave a crisp, all-right nod. “I’ll call Sheriff Knight. Maybe he can provide police protection. If not, then maybe SAPD can.”

  “I have a better idea.” Ryan hoped it sounded like a better idea to Delaney when she heard it. “Patrick and you could stay at my estate.”

  The room went totally silent.

  He could see the argument, or rather arguments, already forming in her eyes, so Ryan did a preemptive strike. Because this was an argument she couldn’t win. “Play worst-case scenario. Even if the accident was directed at me, your father could return. What if he barges in here? He’s enraged, and you can’t reason with an enraged man.”

  She opened her mouth, probably to challenge him, but Ryan just forged ahead. “And even if the police can provide you with protection, it’d be minimal. Probably a cruiser patrolling the area. Not exactly an ideal solution.”

  Delaney gave him an uh-huh look. “And what you’re offering is ideal?”

  “I have the best security system that money can buy. The entire perimeter of the estate is rigged with motion detectors and alarms. I can hire guards to man the gate. You’ll be safe.” He rested on the arms of her chair and leaned in. “Patrick will be safe. I promise you.”

  She shook her head.

  “Don’t think about how wrong that kiss was,” Ryan continued. “Don’t let that be the deciding factor in this. The estate is huge. Plenty of room for both Patrick and you. All you have to do is take what I’m offering.”

  Delaney moved his hand aside and got up. She didn’t just get up—she sprang out of the chair. “I can’t. Don’t you understand? I can’t.”

  Ryan was about to assure her that he wouldn’t take no for an answer. But Delaney did a preemptive strike of her own.

  “I’m not thinking about how wrong that kiss was, Ryan,” she said, scooping Patrick into her arms. She headed for the door. “I’m thinking about how right it felt.”

  WELL, THAT WAS a real Pandora’s-box kind of confession, and Delaney was already mentally kicking herself before she even made it out of the nursery.

  Could she possibly have said any
thing more stupid?

  But unfortunately, it was the truth. Her body was still humming from that kiss, and she wasn’t the sort of person to hum.

  Before Ryan McCall had appeared in her life, she hadn’t missed being in a man’s arms. She hadn’t missed the intimacy of simply being held.

  Well, she missed it now.

  She could thank Ryan, her suddenly needy body and her ridiculous confession for that.

  “Did you think I’d just let that pass?” she heard Ryan say.

  Delaney sighed because he was right on her heels. Not that she’d expected him to stay put. She’d all but offered him carte blanche to strip off her clothes and have sex with her.

  And why did that suddenly seem like an irresistible, tantalizing idea?

  Because she was obviously losing it, that’s why.

  The stress had gotten to her, though it didn’t seem like stress. It seemed more like a hungry need for a man she shouldn’t be needing.

  Ryan managed to step ahead of her before she could make it into the kitchen. The overtaking wouldn’t have bothered Delaney so much if it hadn’t put them face-to-face. After she’d humiliated herself, eye contact was the last thing she wanted.

  “The kiss felt right to me, too,” he admitted. “Which, of course, also means it was wrong.”

  “Oh, no. Not this.” She slapped her hand on his chest to keep him from moving closer. “Look, we can’t both be insane at the same time. We have to take turns or something. And right now, it’s my turn, okay?”

  Needing something between them, Delaney repositioned Patrick, who was still sleeping. It didn’t help. The dangerous energy was there, zipping back and forth between Ryan and her.

  “You think I wanted that kiss to feel the way it did?” Ryan continued. He shook his head. “Okay, bad question. I did want it to feel that way. I can’t completely ignore the fact that I’m a man and you’re a woman. Laws of attraction and—”

  “We shouldn’t be discussing this.”

  He ignored her. Another head shake. He mumbled something under his breath. “I think about you when I shouldn’t be thinking about you, Delaney. And in my mind, I’ve already kissed you at least a dozen times.”

  That confession took her breath away. It simply vanished. Lack of breath definitely didn’t help her battle the fantasies of him that she was trying to push aside. “You have?”

  “I have.” He stepped closer. Touched the back of her hand. Rubbed softly with his thumb. “I knew the feel of you. The taste of you. How you’d fit in my arms. How we’d fit together. I knew all of that before I ever touched you.”

  Good grief. Much more of this, and she’d have to start fanning herself. Or take him off to bed. Mercy. Her body was starting to soften and burn. Preparing itself for something it wouldn’t get.

  And her body wouldn’t get Ryan.

  “But the truth is, before today, I hadn’t kissed a woman since my wife died,” he continued. “I hadn’t wanted to kiss a woman. And I’m having a lot of trouble dealing with that.”

  Because Delaney was trying to block all that heat and sizzle, she also attempted to block out what he was saying but couldn’t. “You haven’t been with anyone since then?”

  “No.”

  She felt some of the frustration drain away. And worse, she felt another connection with him. First the pocket watch, then the butterfly search. Now, this.

  “Some pair we are,” she mumbled. “We’re not exactly poster material for active sex lives.”

  The corner of his mouth lifted. “It’s been a long time for you?”

  “Oh, yeah.” And Delaney was sorry she’d admitted that so quickly. But what the heck. Part of her wanted to share the misery in his eyes. At least, she wanted to share something. Better misery than another kiss. “I broke up with my last boyfriend over two years ago. I wanted children. He didn’t. He left.”

  “You were in love with him?”

  She shrugged. “I think I was in love with the idea of having a family. It’s what I’ve always wanted, and he didn’t have any desire to be part of that.”

  And they were back to Patrick. It didn’t dilute the effect of the sensations inside her body, but it got her mind back to where it belonged.

  “Please understand that I can’t go to your estate,” she told him. “Especially after that kiss. My instincts tell me to distance myself from you.”

  “Which instincts are those?”

  “Not the ones involving sexual fantasies, that’s for sure.”

  She’d meant to say that as a saucy, sarcastic comeback, but it sort of backfired. Ryan’s mouth quivered. The right corner lifted.

  And he smiled.

  Mercy. That was an unexpected weapon in his male arsenal. The man had dimples. Actual dimples. The kind that looked more at home on movie-star heart-throbs. Not good. He was already attractive enough without adding something wholesome like dimples to the mix.

  Or honesty.

  And the man was indeed honest. Many of things he’d just admitted to her were better left unsaid yet he’d said them. That dimple-enhanced candor was probably the greatest aphrodisiac of all.

  Since she was quickly losing ground, and since her arms were starting to tire from holding Patrick, Delaney checked around for the infant seat that she normally kept on the floor next to the dining table.

  It wasn’t there.

  Only then did she remember she’d left it in her car, which was parked in her garage. She’d taken both the seat and Patrick to the day-care center that morning and had used it for him while she went through some correspondence. Her options now were to get past Ryan and head for the nursery and the crib.

  But stepping around him would almost certainly involve some body contact.

  That meant going in the other direction, to the garage. With Patrick, because she wasn’t about to hand him over to Ryan.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said.

  Of course, he followed her through the kitchen and into the laundry room.

  “What will it take for me to convince you to stay at my home?” Ryan asked.

  “A lot more than you’ve provided so far.” Delaney balanced Patrick in her arms and threw open the door that led to the garage. Since it was as dark as a tomb, she flicked on the light switch.

  Nothing.

  She shook her head. This was just not her day.

  However, the frustration and the remainder of her argument with Ryan died on her lips when she caught the scent of something that shouldn’t have been in the garage.

  Ryan obviously smelled it as well because he grabbed her shoulder and muscled his way in front of her.

  It wasn’t a second too soon.

  There was a burst of orangy-red light. Flames, she quickly realized. They erupted without sound. Jolting over the back-end of her car and higher.

  God, her garage was on fire.

  Delaney tightened her grip on Patrick, sheltering his face against her chest so he wouldn’t inhale the smoke and fumes. Ryan took her instinctive moves a step further and pushed her back into the laundry room.

  He didn’t waste any time. He snatched a towel from the laundry basket and went toward the flames. Delaney hurried back into the kitchen for the fire extinguisher that she kept beneath the sink. It was probably too small, but it’d be a better defense than the towel.

  What she saw when she made it back to the garage sent her heart into her throat.

  In those few short seconds that she’d been gone, the fire had tripled in size. Thick, choking coils of smoke scattered around them, fanning out everywhere. In every corner. The smoke, flames and the heat coming right at her.

  “Ryan!” she called out. The sound of her voice startled Patrick, and he awoke with a jolt and started to cry.

  When Ryan looked back at her, she tossed him the extinguisher and reached for the phone mounted on the wall to call 911. While she provided the info to the emergency operator, she heard Ryan spray the foam onto the flames.

  Delaney pr
ayed it would put out the fire. If not, it could spread, and she could lose her home.

  And worse.

  Much worse.

  She peered back around the door frame to check on Ryan. The extinguisher had obviously done its job. And so had he. He was spraying with one hand and using the towel to bash out the rest. His efforts didn’t stop the smoke and the ash, however. It was still there in abundance, and Ryan wasn’t immune to it, either. He started to cough.

  “Get Patrick outside,” he yelled. “Into the backyard.”

  Because she couldn’t risk her son’s life, Delaney did as Ryan said. Cradling Patrick against her, she hurried back through the kitchen and onto her back porch.

  She came to a dead stop when it suddenly occurred to her why Ryan had said the backyard and not the front. Maybe there was someone out there. Near the front door of her garage. Someone responsible for the fire that Ryan was fighting.

  Oh, God.

  Patrick must have sensed the danger and her reaction to it because his sobs increased in both volume and intensity. Delaney put her mouth against his tearsoaked cheek and kissed him. She murmured soft, hopefully soothing things to help him calm down. It worked on her son, but not on her.

  Her heart was pounding, and the thoughts going through her head were not good. This was the stuff of nightmares.

  She heard footsteps behind her and whirled around. Trying to brace herself for whatever she might face. Preparing herself for a possible fight.

  But it was Ryan.

  He was all right.

  Well, for the most part.

  Soot covered, his clothes singed and looking battle worn, he hurried onto the porch with her. “I managed to put out the fire,” he said in between taking huge gulps of air. “But we should have the fire department check it just in case.”

  “Thank you.” Though from the heart, Delaney knew those words weren’t nearly enough. “If we hadn’t seen the flames when we did, the fire would have made it into the house.”

  Ryan didn’t confirm that, but Delaney knew it was true. The flames would have spread, destroying whatever, or whomever, was in their path. If she’d been in the nursery with Ryan, it might have been too late to save anything.

  Including themselves.