Peekaboo Baby (10 page)

Her smile vanished. “On
my
hands,” she corrected. Delaney adjusted the blanket again. “You think my father started the fire.”

No more baby talk. Obviously, she wanted a change of subject because that
our
had spooked her. It'd actually unnerved him a little, too. Because it'd sounded a lot better than Ryan had ever imagined it would. He
hadn't considered himself part of an
our
situation in a long, long time.

“Don't you think your father's responsible?” Ryan countered, forcing himself to take whatever turn Delaney wanted with this conversation.

“Maybe. But subterfuge isn't his strong suit. He's more of the in-your-face type. Besides, I'm not totally convinced he wants to kill me.”

Ryan agreed. However, if Richard Nash wanted to hurt her, to punish her, he might end up accidentally killing her in the process.

“I plan to speak with Dr. Montgomery tomorrow afternoon,” Ryan said. “If I get lucky, maybe Keyes will be there, too.”

“If Lena can stay with Patrick, I'd like to go with you.”

He angled his body so he could stare at her. “Lena could. If
I
wanted you to go with me. But I don't. If Keyes or Montgomery is behind these scare tactics, then it won't be safe for you to be around them.”

Delaney huffed. “The doctors might not talk to you. In fact, it's my guess that they'll claim patient confidentiality since they want to avoid discussing anything about the cloning. But if I'm there, they'll at least have to answer questions about my medical files.”

She was right. Damn it. Still—

“If we go together,” Delaney added, “it'll be safer. For both of us.”

Ryan had already opened his mouth to object. Until she added that last part.

“What?” she challenged. “You think you're impervious to danger?”

He shook his head.

But he didn't think Delaney cared about his safety.

Oh, no.

No, no, no.

This couldn't be happening. He already had enough to deal with, with his revving body and its stupid demands. He didn't need Delaney to be concerned for him. Concern equaled feelings, and that would only add another layer to the already too-powerful sexual energy between them.

A bad layer.

One that could change erotic fantasies to making-love fantasies. Maybe he could handle the first, but the second was off-limits. He didn't have a choice about that.

She mumbled something under her breath and scooped her hand through her hair, pushing it away from her face. “Believe me, I don't like this any better than you do.”

Ryan was almost afraid to ask, but he did anyway. “Are we talking about the visit to the clinic, or have we moved on to other things?”

She moistened her lips, mumbled something. “Other things.”

“Oh.”

Hell. Another of those proverbial layers. She was now pouring her heart out to him. Great. Just great. He should say good-night, take a cold shower and go to bed.
Alone.
Because he was quickly losing ground here.

Delaney met his gaze and studied him a long time. “You look…”

“Uncomfortable?” he provided.

She considered that a moment and frowned. “No. You look interested.”

Well, so much for hiding his feelings. And it was worse than that. She moistened her lips again, and Ryan felt his body clench and beg.

“I've really debated bringing this up,” Delaney continued. “Let sleeping dogs lie and all of that. But the sleeping-dog approach isn't working. Well, not for me anyway.” Judging from her frown, she wasn't pleased about it.

Neither was Ryan.

Really.

“Neither of us is the casual-affair type,” she went on. “And an affair would be a truly stupid idea anyway. We have more important things to do than act on our libidos.”

It was the most logical argument she could have made. There was just one problem with it. Logic didn't apply here, and it wasn't nearly enough to override the effects of the hormonal circus going on inside both of them.

He was sunk.

And heaven help him, he intended to keep on sinking.

Right now, he only wanted one thing, and she was standing right in from of him.

Ryan turned, facing her. “I am interested,” he said. “And that sleeping-dog approach isn't working for me, either.”

He quit thinking.

Quit analyzing.

He quit resisting.

And he acted. Fast. Because he didn't want anything to change his mind.

Ryan hooked his arm around her waist and pulled her to him. Against him. Not a gentle move. Mainly because she caught him, and her need seemed as urgent and burning as his own. The full body contact sent a jolt of fire through him. His heartbeat raced. His pulse was quick. His breath thin. And every part of him wanted her.

His mouth went to hers. As if he'd kissed her a thousand times. And it certainly felt that way, maybe because of those relentless fantasies he'd had about her. But for whatever reason, she tasted familiar. Like something he'd always desperately wanted. Like something forbidden. And of course, that only made it so much better.

He deepened the kiss. Deepened everything. Until he was beyond a place where reason and stopping made sense. Instead, he took. Claimed. Ravaged.

In the back of his mind, he realized this kiss, her taste, would stay with him forever. If he ever kissed another
woman, he would always and forever compare her to Delaney.

A staggering thought.

And still, it didn't stop him.

She lifted her arms, first one and then the other, and slid them around his neck. The adjustment in positions brought her right against him. Her breasts brushed against his chest. No bra. He knew that because he could feel her nipples on the other side of that silky fabric.

Ryan heard a primitive sound rumble in his chest, and he pulled her closer, tighter, against him. Her body, against his, until all he could feel was Delaney.

“This is wrong,” she mumbled when they remembered they needed air to live. They broke the kiss, momentarily, and gulped in several huge breaths.

Stating the obvious, however, didn't stop them. Ryan immediately went back for more. Taking from her. Savoring all the sensations of her touch, her taste. Letting the kiss carry him to the only place he wanted to go.

And he wanted Delaney to go there with him.

“You're so good at this,” she whispered against his mouth.

“That's not the best thing you can say to a man who's battling his willpower.”

She pulled back slightly. The moonlight danced over his face. Over his body. “Are you still battling it?”

“No. I lost when you stepped into the room.”

Her breath shuddered—a sound both erotic and totally feminine. She seemed to take his surrender as something to be tested. While he deepened the kiss, Delaney slid her body against his. Well, it was a little more than just a slide. It was an intimate caress. Her breasts moving against him. Her stomach. And especially her lower body.

He reacted.

Man, did he.

In the most human way that a man could react to a woman. He'd been battling his need since she walked into the room, but with that slide, that deep caress of their bodies, he lost the battle.

Delaney moaned. Shifted. She brushed against him and didn't back away. Just the opposite. She moved, into him, against him. Until Ryan dragged her even closer. Until they were plastered against each other.

Her hand moved to his chest. Stirring the muscles there. Not a gentle touch. Her fingers were seeking, exploring. But she didn't stop with his chest. She continued to touch. Continued to arouse. Sliding her fingers over to his side. A gliding caress that stirred him. Not that he needed anything else to stir him.

Delaney was enough.

Then, she stopped cold.

The muscles in her body tensed. Ryan realized she had her hand over his shoulder holster and his gun. A weapon he'd put on after the latest incident.

“It's just a safety measure,” he said. Not easily. He was battling with both his breath and his composure.

She pulled open his jacket and looked inside. “That looks like a little more than a safety measure.”

He braced himself for an admonishment, perhaps some kind of accusation that he'd sugarcoated the danger so it wouldn't worry her.

Which was exactly what he'd done.

But there was no accusation. Instead, her focus left the gun and went to the side pocket inside his jacket. Looking down, Ryan saw what had garnered her attention. The edge of the plastic bag was sticking up.

“The DNA test kit,” Ryan explained. Not an explanation Delaney needed though since she obviously knew what it was. “I took it from the changing table at your house.”

“Of course.” She dropped back a step and wiped her mouth with her fingers. “You didn't have someone else take it to the lab?”

“No. Because you said you wanted to do that yourself.”

“Yes.” Another step back, and she nodded. “Go ahead. Send in the swab to be tested. I can't put this off any longer. It's not fair to either of us.”

“Delaney—” Ryan reached for her, but she ducked around him.

“How soon will we know the results?”

This wasn't a conversation he wanted to have, but it
obviously wasn't one he could avoid. “Maybe as early as tomorrow, if I have the lab expedite the test.”

“Which you will,” she said.

Delaney turned, ready to leave, but this time Ryan didn't let her go. He caught on to her, tried to comfort her and failed. Because unfortunately, he couldn't tell her that they'd skip the test. They needed to know the results, if for no other reason than to start dealing with the consequences. Still, that didn't make it easy.

She emitted a sound of frustration. “I'm scared you'll use the DNA results to try to take Patrick.”

One sentence. That's all it took for her to nail what had been troubling both of them.

Ryan cupped her chin and ran his thumb over her bottom lip. It was damp and slightly swollen from the kissing war they'd just waged against each other. “That won't happen. I know what it's like to lose a child.”

She studied his eyes, as if searching for the truth. Moments passed before she nodded, apparently satisfied that she'd just received the truth. Delaney brushed a kiss on his cheek.

Ryan couldn't have been more stunned if she'd slapped him.

That kiss wasn't the highly charged erotic exchange they'd had just minutes earlier. It was gentle. Soft. And intimate. In fact, it was as intimate as a kiss could be.

“Thank you for calming my fears about Patrick,” she whispered, then turned and walked to her bedroom.

Ryan stood there, his body still burning, still wanting her. He waited for a thunderbolt from heaven to strike him for the probable lie he'd just told. Because while his intentions were to be fair and just, the truth was, he wasn't sure how he'd react if he had proof that Patrick was his. One thing was for sure, he wouldn't be able to stay away from his son.

Not a chance of that happening.

And that would almost certainly mean hurting Delaney.

Her cell phone rang, and Delaney cringed.

Her entire body seemed to be in some heightened state of anxiety. And that anxiety wasn't likely to go away anytime soon.

Especially considering the call was probably from the lab.

Ryan had had a courier pick up the test within a half hour of their nighttime chat. Well over twelve hours ago. In other words, plenty of time.

That meant Patrick's DNA results were perhaps already back.

Drawing in a deep breath, Delaney reached into her purse, took out her phone and stared down at the number on her caller ID.

“The lab?” Ryan asked. Obviously, he was experiencing some high anxiety, too.

“Probably. It's a local number.”

Ryan didn't ask anything else. Instead, he chose to
stare out the window of his limo, not that there was much to see. They were still minutes away from the New Hope clinic, and since his driver was the one taking them, staring out the window was probably the best defense Ryan could muster.

Trying to muster some defenses of her own, Delaney forced herself to answer the phone.

“Ms. Nash, it's Dr. Keyes,” the caller said.

Okay. Not the call she'd dreaded but instead one she'd desperately wanted. Because she was certain that Keyes knew a lot more than he'd told her that rainy day in the parking lot.

“It's Keyes,” she mouthed to Ryan.

He immediately moved closer. So close that their shoulders were touching. He put his ear next to the phone.

“Dr. Keyes,” Delaney said, attempting to remain cordial. “A lot of people, including the police, have been trying to get in touch with you.”

“It hasn't been a good time for me to talk to anyone.”

I'll bet.
But Delaney kept that remark to herself.

“My secretary said that Ryan McCall has an appointment with Dr. Montgomery.” Keyes tossed that out as if he were testing the waters.

Delaney decided to test some waters of her own. “We're headed there now, to ask him some questions about what you and I discussed.”

“That wouldn't be wise.” No water testing that time.
The words were brusquely delivered, and they sounded very much like a threat.

She glanced at Ryan, and his suddenly tight jaw confirmed that he thought it might be an attempt at intimidation. “Why wouldn't it be wise?” she asked.

“Because I think Emmett Montgomery might be behind everything that's happened. The cloning, the cover-up. Even Dr. Spears's missing records. Ms. Nash, has it occurred to you that you could be in danger?”

She almost laughed. “Yes, it's occurred to me.” Still, it was an attention getter to hear it spelled out by the very man who might be the perpetrator.

Well, maybe.

There was still that whole angle with her father. Perhaps the fire and the car incident had nothing to do with the New Hope clinic. Maybe it was just a continuation of the bad blood between her father and Ryan. If so, this visit to Dr. Montgomery could be a waste of time.

But Delaney didn't believe that.

Even if Dr. Montgomery was innocent of the scare tactics—and she wasn't at all sure that he was—it didn't mean he hadn't known about or even approved the cloning experiments that resulted in Patrick's birth.

“Montgomery will try to shift the blame onto someone else,” Keyes continued. “But don't make the mistake of thinking he's innocent. He's not. And if you believe him, if you trust him, it could be the last mistake you ever make.”

That comment apparently reached Ryan's threshold for bullying and coercion. He snatched the phone from her. “Keyes, this is Ryan McCall. Cut the gaslight BS and start talking. I want to know exactly what happened at the New Hope clinic when you were Delaney's physician.”

Delaney wanted to hear the response, and she shifted, moving closer to Ryan. But she soon learned there was no response to hear.

Keyes had hung up.

Ryan cursed. “Coward. But it doesn't matter,” he said, handing her the phone. “We'll find him and get him to tell us what he knows.”

“You think Keyes is responsible for the cloning—if there actually was a cloning, that is?”

Ryan turned to her. It seemed as if he were about to launch into an argument to convince her that the illegal procedure had indeed happened. But the argument faded. His face relaxed. “Keyes is covering up something. Or else he's scared and hiding. Either way, he knows something.” And that was it. No declaration that he was positive Patrick was his son.

Maybe because he wasn't positive?

With all the agony Ryan had gone through with his wife and son's deaths perhaps he looked at her son and
wanted
Patrick to be Adam.

And maybe that was wishful thinking on her part.

“Are you sorry I ever told you about all of this?” she asked.

“Never.” Ryan didn't look at her, but he did slip his hand over hers. A quiet, gentle gesture. It wasn't congruent with the intense expression on his face.

The driver stopped in the parking of the clinic. Delaney glanced at the single-story brownstone building, and she could feel her throat closing up. Yes, they might get answers from Dr. Montgomery, but it wasn't the answers that troubled her. It was dealing with what they would perhaps learn.

Just the night before, after their latest ill-advised kissing session, Ryan had promised her that he wouldn't try to take Patrick from her. While his promise had rid her of
some
of her fears, it didn't solve all their problems. There were several facets to this, and Delaney prayed there wouldn't be another attempt on their lives before they could sort through the situation.

Her throat was closing even tighter. She glanced at Ryan as they stepped from the limo. “Reassure me one more time that you have the best security available at your estate.”

He nodded, slid his arm around her waist and moved them toward the clinic entrance. “Plus, there are two guards at the front gate. They have orders not to let anyone in while we're gone. I wouldn't take chances with Patrick's life. He's safe.”

That helped.

So did his arm around her waist. Comforting and protecting. Something she'd learned Ryan was very
good at it. Unfortunately, it could easily become a crutch. This relationship was temporary. It couldn't possibly be anything else since they were from different worlds. It would end as quickly as it had begun. And a month from now, she wouldn't even remember the taste of Ryan McCall.

Delaney actually stopped and let that thought sink in.

She had to admit that it was a sad time in a woman's life when she started lying to herself.

A month from now she would indeed remember Ryan. And that included his taste, his scent, his voice. Everything about him seemed permanently branded on her.

She groaned softly and gritted her teeth. “This is crazy,” she whispered.

“Crazy.” Not a question. More like an agreement. “You're thinking about this energy between us?”

Confused, surprised and slightly annoyed, she looked at him. “You have ESP?”

He shook his head, made a furtive glance around the parking lot and walked with her to the building. He stopped in the entry, just outside the receptionist's office. “But you've definitely been on my mind. I keep having these images of you in my head.”

“Mercy, now there are images? Don't elaborate on them,” Delaney insisted when he opened his mouth. “Trust me, I've got images in my head, too, and they're clear enough without you adding details.”

“Is there kissing involved in your images?” He said it with a straight face. A straight, tortured face shadowed by frustration.

“Oh, yeah,” she admitted. “How about your images?”

The torture increased and his groan matched hers. “Kisses, nudity, multiple orgasms.”

She paused. Blinked. “Your images might be slightly better than mine.”

He laughed, not from humor. It contained more frustration. He leaned in and brushed his mouth over hers. “Then, obviously that kiss last night didn't have the same effect on you as it did on me.”

“I beg to differ. It had an effect. It's still having an effect.” They stared at each other, and both mumbled some profanity at the same time. “I have a lot of reasons not to fall for you,” she said.

“Ditto—”

“My father,” Delaney continued. “The fact that he would see a relationship between us as a threat and would make our lives hell—”

“The fact that I'm not sure I can even let myself fall for you. The best I can offer is something temporary and physical, and the truth is, I don't even know if I can deliver in the physical area.”

She furrowed her brow to show her skepticism.

“Okay, so I can deliver in that area,” he amended. Probably because he remembered his physical reaction to her when they'd kissed.

Delaney certainly remembered it.

The heat rolled through her. Even now, when there should be no heat. Only focus. Because they had a lot more important things to do than lust after each other.

“So what do we do?” she asked, trying to force that heat to cool. “How do we stop this?”

“Truth? I doubt we can stop it. I'd suggest we just go with it. Fall into bed and act out those fantasies. That way, we can get sweaty and hot and maybe try to burn out some of this fire.”

“But?”

He shook his head. “But I keep thinking what happens afterward. Will you think I slept with you for some other reason other than to satisfy this need gnawing away at us? Will you hate me? Because, you see, Delaney, I can't have you going back to hating me.”

Okay. That didn't sound, well, sexual. It sounded like more. Much more.

Didn't it?

And if so, how much more?

The possibilities both terrified her and tugged at her heartstrings. She seriously doubted she could go back to the way things were. Not after everything they'd been through. But heaven knew she needed some kind of protection, some way to guard her heart.

As did he.

Ryan had made it clear that he might never be free to love again, because of the risk. And she was a risk.
The ultimate one since Delaney wasn't sure she could ever share Patrick with him.

And that was her reason for not responding, for not assuring him that she wouldn't hate him. It was a flimsy barrier, but a barrier all the same.

She checked her watch and started walking toward the receptionist area. “It's time for our appointment.”

Ryan stopped her. He combed his gaze over her as if looking for answers.

Answers she couldn't give him.

“Let's talk to Montgomery,” she insisted. “And then when we know what we're up against—”

“I'll still want you, Delaney.”

She stared at him. “Yes, but why?”

Ryan didn't seem at all surprised by what would have been a vague question for anyone else. “You're thinking that I have the hots for you because of Patrick?”

Delaney nodded.

“Trust me, that's not why.”

With that, he jerked open the door that separated them from the perky-looking blond receptionist.

“Ms. Nash,” the woman greeted, obviously recognizing her.

Delaney probably should have recognized her too, but Ryan's comment had pretty much shot her focus. What was she going to do about this man by her side? A man who had her common sense and emotions turned
upside down. Worse, she was beginning to think the condition wasn't temporary.

Or reversible.

“Ms. Nash?” the receptionist repeated.

Delaney glanced at the woman and realized she was standing stock-still at a time when inertia wasn't a good thing. She needed to move. To get this interview started with Montgomery. She didn't need other things, like her feelings about Ryan, to get in the way.

And that was true on so many levels.

“We're ready to see the doctor,” Delaney insisted. She didn't dare look at Ryan.

“Come this way. He's expecting you.”

The receptionist led them down a corridor. Since it wasn't a huge building, there were only four other offices off the hall, and the doctor's was at the end. He stood there, in the doorway, apparently waiting for them. Seeing him immediately focused her attention back on the reason for this visit.

Montgomery was tall, imposing, and looked more like an underwear model than a physician. His bulky arm and chest muscles strained the fabric of his white silk shirt. He was in his mid-thirties with sun-streaked brown hair and bronze-colored skin that probably hadn't come from a tanning bed but rather frequent trips to some tropical island.

Delaney had seen the man only a couple of times, during the months when she'd been Keyes's patient,
but Dr. Montgomery shook her hand and greeted her as if they were old friends. A stark contrast to Keyes and his clandestine approach to avoiding the police. And her.

“Sit, please,” the doctor offered, motioning toward two leather chairs across from his desk. “I have to admit I'm nervous about this visit—what with the recent accusations from the watchdog group.”

“I can imagine. Are the accusations true?” Delaney asked, figuring the direct approach would save them time. She sat in one of the chairs; Ryan took the other.

“We provide fertility assistance to people who want children. We're not in the business of experimental research.”

Despite the roundabout denial, Ryan zeroed right in on that. “So you won't mind providing us with the names of the couple who supplied the donor embryo for Delaney's son.”

The doctor's amicable expression slipped a notch. “I can't do that. I'm sure you understand that I'm bound by confidentiality.”

That was exactly what Delaney figured he'd say. It wouldn't stop her, though, from pressing. “But you're positive you used legitimate donors, and that Dr. Spears or someone else didn't get the embryo by some other means?”