Joan Pickart - The Baby Bet - His Secret Son

Only, Andrew was all alone.

Kara sighed, decided that she was losing what was left of her exhausted mind, then walked forward slowly, stopping by Andrew’s side.

“Andrew?” she said softly.

He jerked away from the wall, blinked several times, then met Kara’s gaze. In the next instant he gripped her shoulders.

“Is he dead?” he said, his voice choked with emotion. “Did I kill him? Oh, God, please don’t tell me that Robert died.”

“No, no,” Kara said quickly. “Uncle Robert is holding his own. I saw you standing all alone and…”

Kara’s words trailed off as she lost her train of thought. She was suddenly aware of the incredible heat that was rushing through her from Andrew’s hands where they were still gripping her upper arms. Her breasts were heavy, achy, yearning for a soothing touch that only Andrew could provide.

Dear heaven, what was this man doing to her? She should step backward, force him to remove his hands, but she was pinned in place by the mesmerizing depths of his dark-brown eyes.

MacAllister eyes.

Oh, yes, those were MacAllister eyes. Andrew Malone was, indeed, Uncle Robert’s son. The more she looked at Andrew, the clearer the resemblance became. Andrew was a MacAllister.

“You…you should get some rest, too, Andrew,” she said, hearing the thread of breathlessness in her voice. “There’s no purpose to be served by your staying, pushing yourself beyond the point of exhaustion. Go get a few hours’ sleep.”

Take your hands off her, Malone, Andrew ordered himself, but didn’t follow his own directive. He needed to touch her, to be connected to her like this, just for another moment. She was filling him with warmth, chasing away the chill of his loneliness. But that warmth was rapidly becoming heated desire, churning and coiling low in his body.

“Kara,” he said, his voice raspy.

He wanted to nestle her close to him, to wrap his arms around her, to kiss those delectable lips of hers, then make sweet love with her for hours. Ah, man, he was going up in flames.

“Andrew, I…” Kara said. Want you to kiss me, hold me. “We’re both very tired. We’ve been through an extremely stressful ordeal and we’re not thinking clearly.”

“You’re feeling what I am, aren’t you?” he said. Andrew shook his head and let his hands drop to his sides. “We’re related, for crying out loud. What am I doing?”

“No, we’re not, but that’s beside the point,” Kara said, wrapping her hands around her elbows.

“You don’t believe me, do you? You don’t believe I’m Robert MacAllister’s son.”

“Yes, I do,” she said. “You have the MacAllister eyes. When I look at your features, I can see Uncle Robert in you. But we’re not related, because I’m not a MacAllister.”

“I don’t understand what you mean. I also don’t understand why you’re speaking to me, expressing concern for me. You made it perfectly clear that you despise me for what I did. Believe me, I’m not crazy about myself at the moment, either.”

“I do despise you for what you did at that hotel, but…oh, I don’t know. I’m so confused. I was very quick to pass judgment on you,” Kara said, “because I was so worried about Uncle Robert. I’m still upset about his condition, not knowing if he’ll make it through the critical next twenty-four hours. But I’m the last person in the world who should be censuring another person’s actions.”

“Why? What do you mean? And if you’re not a MacAllister, then who are you?”

Kara sighed. “I guess I’m not making much sense. Perhaps…perhaps we can discuss this after we’ve had some rest.”

“No, Kara, please. Can’t we talk now? Just for a few minutes at least? This place…” Andrew glanced around. “This place is getting to me. I know I don’t have the right to ask for your company but…”

“I understand,” Kara said. “A hospital can be very overwhelming when you’re in the midst of a crisis and especially…especially if you’re alone. I…yes, all right. A few minutes. Why don’t we go to the cafeteria and get a cup of coffee, or some juice? Then we both need to get some sleep.”

Andrew nodded and they walked to the elevator, each reaching out to press the button on the wall at the same time. Their fingers brushed and they pulled their hands back quickly, feeling as though they’d been singed by an incredible heat.

When the doors opened, Kara waved Andrew into the elevator ahead of her, wanting to see where he would choose to stand so she could keep as much distance between them as possible.

Andrew entered the elevator and turned to face Kara. As she stepped forward her heel caught in the grating and she stumbled, gasping as she felt herself falling. With a natural instinct Andrew gripped Kara’s shoulders to steady her, his elbow hitting the panel of buttons. The doors closed and the elevator began to move, but Andrew did not release his hold on Kara.

“Thank you,” she said, looking up at him. “I…”

Kara forgot what she was going to say as she was pinned in place by Andrew’s mesmerizing eyes. Her heart raced and her breathing quickened. The heat from Andrew’s hands was rushing though her, churning low and deep within her.

Let her go, Andrew thought. Kara was steady on her feet now and he was going to take his hands off her and—

“Ah, hell,” he said, then captured Kara’s mouth with his.

Kara encircled Andrew’s neck with her arms as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to his heated body.

Desire rocketed through him as he parted her lips to delve into the sweet darkness of her mouth with his tongue, seeking and finding her tongue, stroking, dueling.

Passions soared and reason fled.

The elevator bumped to a stop and they jerked apart as the doors swished opened.

“Oh, dear heaven,” Kara said breathlessly, then rushed out of the elevator, vaguely aware that they were on the floor where the cafeteria was located.

“Kara…” Andrew said, then hurried after her as the doors began to close.

“That didn’t happen,” she said, not slowing her step. “That…did…not…happen.”

“Oh, yes, it did,” Andrew said, drawing a much-needed breath. “It definitely did.”

Kara glared at Andrew as they entered the cafeteria. A short time later they were seated at a small table. Kara took a sip of her orange juice, then stared into the glass as though it was the most fascinating thing she had ever seen. Andrew ignored the cup of coffee in front of him as he looked at Kara.

“There’s something happening between us, Kara, and I want to know what it is.”

Why? he asked himself in the next instant. What difference did it make? Why was it so important? Hell, he didn’t know.

Kara’s head snapped up. “What happened, what it is, is the product of fatigue, worry, stress and…It didn’t mean anything, Andrew.”

“Didn’t it?” he said, his voice low and rumbly as he looked directly into her eyes.

She couldn’t breathe, Kara thought frantically. Andrew had stolen the very breath from her body with that kiss, and she wasn’t able to refill her lungs with air when he looked at her like that. She was going to pass out cold right into her orange juice.

“Don’t,” she whispered. “Oh, please, Andrew, just…don’t.”

He leaned toward her. “Don’t what? Don’t desire you? Don’t want to kiss you again? Don’t want to make love with you?”

“Stop it,” she said, looking quickly around the room, then meeting his gaze again. “None of this is real. We’re exhausted, not thinking clearly. This has been a night of nightmares, and we’re trying to escape to somewhere we don’t have to face what has taken place.”

“Nice speech,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “But I’m not buying it for a second. You’re turning me inside out, lady, and nothing like this has happened to me before. I want—for some reason I can’t fathom—to know what this is.”