Anne McAllister - A Baby For Christmas

A muscle ticked in his jaw. She could almost see the thoughts flashing across his brain, angry thoughts, disparaging thoughts. But finally Carly felt his fingers loosen reluctantly. His hand dropped and he shoved it once more into the pocket of his canvas trousers. He shrugged almost negligently. ‘Whatever.’

Carly pressed her lips together. She wanted to rub her arm, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

‘So talk,’ she said frostily.

Piran drew a deep breath, as if trying to decide where to start. Finally he lifted his gaze and met hers.

‘Let me get this straight,’ he said after a long moment, and she could still bear his disbelief. ‘You just happen to work at Bixby Grissom and you just happened to edit our book?’

‘More or less. As I said, Sloan has a lot on his plate, and since I know more about archaeology than he does he asked me if I would do your last revision letter for him and the last line-editing.’

‘Which he signed.’

‘He’s your editor. I’m not. And Des came to see him, but he was out with the flu.’

‘So Des just jumped at the chance to suggest you come in his place.’

‘I’m sure Des was just there to ask for an extension. But when he saw me a light bulb went off in his head. You know Des and his ideas.’

Piran grimaced. ‘Yeah, I know Des and his ideas. What I don’t know is why you agreed.’

‘I told you—because I like my job. And because I wasn’t sure how much longer I’d have it if I didn’t. It certainly wasn’t because I was ecstatic about seeing you.’

Was that a flush making his cheeks darker? ‘I’m glad to hear it,’ he said gruffly after a moment.

She waited, the sun beating down on her back, but he didn’t say anything else. He just shut his eyes. His jaw tightened.

‘So,’ Carly said finally, ‘do I stay or leave?’

He sighed, then opened his eyes. ‘Like you I have no choice. What else can I do if we’re going to turn the book in on time?’

‘Des said you had a draft.’

‘Des is ever an optimist.’ His tone was dry. ‘I have a very rough draft—the operative word being “rough”. I was counting on Des to shape it up. He’s supposed to be here,’ he muttered again.

‘Yes, well, he’s not. I’m it. Unless you want to plead with Diana for an extension.’

Piran shook his head. ‘It’s in the schedule. Promo’s being done. You know that as well as I do.’ All at once he muttered, ‘God, it’s hot. I need to sit down.’

And he did, right there at the side of the road, pulling his knees up and dropping his head between them.

Carly stared at him, astonished. Then she bent down to look at him more closely. ‘Are you all right? Piran?’

He didn’t answer. She could only see the shallow rise and fall of his back.

‘Piran, for God’s sake, what’s wrong?’

He lifted his head. His face was white. ‘Nothing.’

‘Nothing?’ she mocked. ‘You’re just resting?’

‘Just resting,’ he agreed, his voice hollow. Carly could see sweat beading on his forehead and upper lip.

‘You’re sick.’

He shook his head. ‘I had a diving accident a while ago. No big deal.’

As far as Carly could recall from the days when she’d been a part of the St Just family, there was no such thing as a diving accident that was ‘no big deal’.

‘What kind of diving accident?’ And why hadn’t Des told her? Trust Des to stick her with Piran who was ill as well as harsh, fierce and moody.

Piran gave a quick shake of his head and straightened, putting his hands behind him and leaning back, dropping his head back so that now her eyes were drawn to the long column of his throat, the strong jut of his chin and the quick rise and fall of his chest.

‘What kind of accident?’ Carly repeated.

‘Had to come up too fast.’ He sighed. ‘Damn, I hate this.’

‘Then don’t run after people,’ Carly said, taking refuge in gruffness. She wasn’t about to let him think she was concerned.

Piran’s mouth quirked. ‘I’ll try not to.’

‘Why’d you do a stupid thing like that? Come up too fast, I mean.’

‘Cut myself. Lost a lot of blood.’

‘Blood?’ Carly looked at him, aghast.

‘Gashed my leg on some coral. Not a bad wound, but there’re sharks out there sometimes…’

His voice trailed off. He didn’t have to finish; Carly knew exactly what could have happened. She felt sick.

‘There were two of us,’ Piran went on. ‘The other guy wasn’t cut, but he couldn’t stay down either without me. And they only had one decompression unit. He showed more effects, so they put him in.’

‘You could have died!’ The words were wrung from Carly in spite of herself. She couldn’t have stopped them if she’d tried.

He slanted her a glance. ‘Wishful thinking, Carlota?’ She glared at him. ‘Sometimes you’re such an ass, Piran.’

He looked at her quizzically. ‘Am I?’

‘Yes,’ she said tersely. ‘Come on.’ She held out a hand to him.

He scowled. ‘I don’t need your help.’

‘Fine. Sit there forever. I don’t care.’ She turned away.

‘Carly!’

When she looked back he was glowering at her. He reached out a grudging hand. She hesitated, then grasped it. And there it was—the jolt she always felt when she touched Piran St Just.

She pulled him to his feet and let go at once.

‘Thanks,’ he muttered.

‘Don’t mention it.’ She turned away again, but she didn’t start toward the house until he did. Then she fell into step beside him, watching him worriedly out of the corner of her eye, half expecting him to topple over any moment.

‘I’m all right now,’ he said as they reached the veranda. ‘I’m not going to croak on you.’

‘What a relief.’ She waited until he’d climbed the short flight of steps, then she picked up her duffel bag and started into the house.

Piran stopped at the door and turned back to face her. ‘I’ll work with you, but that’s it. You’re not staying here.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘You can stay in town.’

‘Des said—’

‘The hell with Des!’

‘Well, fine. You want me to stay in town? I’d be de lighted. But you’re paying for it. Diana certainly isn’t going to give me my expenses for something that’s above and beyond my duties. And I’m not about to pay for them!’ She was so angry that she didn’t give a damn if he still thought she was money-grubbing!

Piran dug in his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He peeled off several large-denomination notes and handed them to her.

‘You can take the bicycle. There’s one along the side of the house. Leave your bag here. When you find something, send Ben back out to get your bag.’ He turned away and he probably would have gone right in and shut the door in her face if she hadn’t spoken up.

‘No. Not now.’

‘Wha—?’

‘I’m hot, and I’ve been traveling since dawn. I seem to remember your father once saying that the St Justs were famous for their hospitality. I would like a moment to catch my breath and have a glass of water.’

At the remark about his father Piran turned sharply and shot her a hard glance. Then he grimaced and rubbed his hand against the back of his neck. ‘Oh, hell, all right. Come on.’

GRACIOUS he was not, but Carly was every bit as tired and hot by that time as she’d said she was, and she was too annoyed to care what Piran’s tone of voice conveyed.

She followed him in.

Nothing inside Blue Moon Cottage had changed at all in the intervening years. The walls were still white and cool. The terrazzo floors gleamed. The white wicker sofa and chairs with their bright blue and green patterned cushions still encouraged her to come and sit a while. The mini-blinds were open to let in the air, but slanted to cut down on the afternoon sun, and the outside vegetation filtered away most of the heat. Overhead a fiveblade fan circled lazily.