Peekaboo Baby (12 page)

Part of her wanted their embrace, this moment, to last forever, but from the other room, she heard her son fussing. An indication that
forever
was about to come to an end.

“It's time for me to nurse him,” she remembered, checking her watch. Delaney hadn't needed that glance though. Patrick's fussy cry and her own breasts let her know that it was time.

She and Ryan pulled away from each other, both reacting very much like parents, putting their child first.

The sunlight filtering through the window flickered over them. Over Ryan. And some of the rays landed on his etched wedding band. A glint of gold danced over her.

She could have sworn her heart stopped beating.

Noticing his ring was nothing out of the ordinary. She'd seen it dozens of times, but for now it was like a revelation. Ryan couldn't be anything less than a father to his son. She couldn't be anything less than a mother.

That, however, didn't give them a basis to be together.

While Delaney didn't want a split-custody arrangement, nor did she want a loveless relationship. And whether Ryan wanted to admit it or not, he was still married. To Sandra. He still wore his wedding ring, a symbol of their love.

Of course, Ryan would welcome her into his life, maybe even into some small part of his heart. For Patrick's sake. Maybe even for his.

But Delaney now understood that he couldn't give her himself.

That's why she had to put a lock on own heart. To put some emotional distance between Ryan and her.
Because while his arms made her feel as if he were hers, he wasn't.

And he never would be.

Grumbling about what he'd just learned from the call to his security manager, Ryan went in search of Delaney. He found her exactly where he figured she'd be. She was still in the nursery, holding Patrick, though the baby was no longer nursing. He'd fallen asleep in her arms.

It was a peaceful scene, not exactly congruent with the thoughts about that call. Or the rather tumultuous encounter they'd had in her bedroom. Still, Ryan took a moment to savor it.

Delaney had her attention focused on Patrick. She was rocking him, softly humming. Patrick was settled into the crook of her arm, and even though her left breast was still exposed and ready for him to continue nursing, Patrick was zonked out.

The moment Delaney spotted him, she pulled her top back in place, eased out of the rocking chair and settled the baby in his crib. It was a routine she probably went through four, five times a day, but it was far from rou
tine for Ryan. He would never take it for granted that he'd been given another chance to be a father.

Touching her finger to her lips in a
shh
gesture, Delaney walked past him and into her suite. Even though she was a little aloof, all right she was a lot aloof—Ryan didn't become overly concerned until she picked up her purse.

“I've already called my day care manager to tell her that I won't be coming in to work for a while, but I need to go to my house and pick up the payroll checks for my employees. I have to sign them, or they won't get paid. Will your driver be able take me?” she asked. Her request was more as if she were informing him of a decision she'd already made.

“Of course.” Ryan used the intercom on the wall to buzz Lena. “Have a car and driver brought to the front. And I need you to watch Patrick. Ms. Nash and I have to make a quick trip into San Antonio.”

“Sure, boss.”

Delaney made a slight huffing sound, but she didn't say anything until he clicked off the intercom. “The reason I asked to use your driver was so you can stay here with Patrick.”

It was tempting.

But it was a bad idea.

“I'm coming with you,” Ryan said, and he followed Delaney out of the door and into the hall.

She glanced over her shoulder as she made her way down the stairs. She frowned and walked faster. “This
isn't necessary. I'm sure your driver will play bodyguard for an hour or so, and you no doubt have more important things to do.”

He had work, yes, but it wasn't as important as going with her.

“Do I have to remind you what happened the last time we were at your house?” Ryan glanced up at the sky when they went outside. It was cloudy in a way that could indicate another spring storm was on the way. No storm would stop him today.

Once they were under the portico, Ryan opened the door of the limo for her, and when she just stared at him, he motioned for her to get inside. “Save your breath,” Ryan insisted. “I'm going with you.”

After what he'd just learned from Quentin, that wasn't up for negotiation.

Because Delaney seemed in a rotten mood, he expected her to continue the argument, but she didn't. She mumbled a thank-you and settled in the seat next to him.

Close enough that he could have nudged her leg with his.

And yet, it wasn't very close at all.

Something had happened since their last encounter in her bedroom. Something that had put the old walls back up between them. Ryan couldn't let those walls stay, of course. Because for better or worse, they were on the same side.

Now, he had to convince Delaney of that.

“I talked to Quentin,” Ryan said. He waited, letting his hesitation prepare her for news she wasn't going to like. Ryan didn't care much for it, either. “He's had P.I.s watching both of our
friends
—your father and Emmett Montgomery. However, your former doctor, Bryson Keyes, has been elusive. Quentin hasn't been able to find him yet.”

They drove through the gate, and she studied the two guards inside the gatehouse. “And?”

“And we're still no closer to eliminating one of them as a suspect in either the fire or the car incident.”

She stayed quiet a moment, most likely absorbing what he was saying. “What about alibis?”

“They don't have any. Well, at least none that can be verified. Plus, your father's been driving near the estate. Not actually on the grounds, of course. The guards wouldn't dare let him in, but yesterday he was on this road. The P.I. was ready to call the sheriff when your father made a U-turn and headed back to San Antonio.”

“Oh, mercy.” She blew out a long breath. “The incidents might not be related to what went on at New Hope clinic.”

“We don't know that. Keyes is nowhere to be found, and Montgomery hasn't left his house since we visited him at the clinic. Sounds like the actions of two guilty men if you ask me.”

She shook her head and shoved her hands into her hair. “I want this to be over.”

“It will be.”

“Will it?” she snapped. “Someone wants to hurt us, Ryan. Maybe worse. Maybe someone even wants us dead, and it isn't comforting to know that
someone
might be my own father.”

He could see her point. But then, he'd seen that point for a while since he'd been on the receiving end of Nash's threats and antics. “Have you thought about having him committed to an institution?”

“Lately, yes! And if he's behind this, I'll have him put away. Because I've felt guilty about not saving his business, I've let him get by with things. But not anymore. I'm done with this whole guilt-riddled-daughter routine. I did everything I could to save his business.
Everything.
”

There it was. Spelled out for him. Ryan had always considered what all of this had done to Nash, but it had obviously affected Delaney, too. “And I did everything to take it away from him.”

She waved him off. “I didn't tell you how I felt to transfer my guilt to you. Besides, you were just being you.”

“Ouch.”

“Sorry.” She closed her eyes a moment. “Maybe I should have said it was you just dealing with your grief the only way you knew how—by throwing yourself into your work.”

Yes, but in the past few days, work hadn't sated him the way it used to. Of course, lately he'd felt very needy.
That didn't go with his iceman image. But then, that image was changing.

Delaney and his son were responsible for that.

“Now, as for Patrick,” Ryan said. He didn't give her a chance to object to the abrupt change of subject. “We have some options.
You
have some options. The most logical one is for Patrick and you to stay at the estate indefinitely.”

She angled toward him, and examined him. “I have a house, thank you. And the estate is your home, not ours.”

“But it could be.”

More body angling. More examination. She frowned. “Think this through, Ryan. What will your family and your business associates think if Patrick and I move in with you?”

He shrugged. “Not a problem. I don't care what my associates think. And other than a few distant cousins, I have no family.”

Except for Patrick.

And it was because of Patrick that Ryan had come up with the next option. A risky one. He hoped Delaney didn't demand to get out of the car when she heard it. They were driving past the drainage ditch where the incident had occurred, and he didn't want to be in the vicinity any longer than necessary.

“We could look at this from a different angle,” Ryan offered. “One that could solve our dilemma about Patrick and your other concerns.”

“What angle?” Delaney asked, her tone skeptical.

Since Ryan didn't think he stood a chance of making it sound agreeable, he just laid it there and hoped for the best. “You could marry me.”

 

D
ELANEY WAITED
for Ryan to break into laughter at his joke. But after several snail-crawling moments, there was no laughter, and it became clear that he hadn't intended for it to be humorous.

“Marry you?” she questioned.

Ryan nodded. “It makes sense. No shared custody because we'd be in a committed relationship under the same roof. Both of us would be able to raise Patrick.”

She glanced in the mirror and saw the driver, Clancy. The elderly man with the sugar-white hair and time-etched face was staring at them with almost parental concern. Ryan obviously noticed it, too, and tossed him a scowl.

Clancy quickly looked away.

Delaney debated several things she could say in response to Ryan's suggestion, but instead she took his hand, lifted it, so that his wedding ring was right in front of his eyes. “You're already married.”

Ryan looked at the ring as if seeing it for the first time. He cursed and shook his head. “I should have taken it off months ago.”

“You obviously weren't ready to do that. Besides, I won't say
I do
to resolve our custody issues. I don't take marriage vows lightly.”

He pulled back his shoulders, looking genuinely offended. “Neither do I. But this isn't just about us. We've got to consider what's best for Patrick. Plus, it's not as if we hate each other—right?” He waited a moment. “Right?” he repeated when she didn't answer.

“I don't hate you.” It was the truth. Well, partly.

She didn't hate him.

And it was entirely possible she was falling in love with him.

Still, that and that alone wasn't the basis for a marriage. Especially when the love was one-sided.

He reached for his ring, a motion that indicated he was about to yank it from his finger. Delaney clamped her hand over his and stopped him. “Don't do this. Wait until you're ready.”

“I'm ready.” But the grief in his eyes, a grief she couldn't reach, couldn't touch, was still there. And she had to accept that it might always be there.

“You're not,” she insisted.

Ryan moved her hand away. “Delaney, I wouldn't have kissed you if I hadn't thought there was a chance that it would lead to a permanent relationship between us.”

She frowned and stared at him, not believing what he was saying.

“Okay, I would have kissed you,” he amended, flexing his eyebrows. “I'm a man. Blame it on testosterone and the way I feel when I look at you.”

She met his gaze head-on. “I'm not Sandra.”

“And I don't want you to be. I loved her. Truly loved her. But that doesn't mean there isn't room in my heart for you.”

It was a step. A huge one. However, it wasn't enough. “You don't love me, Ryan.”

Silence.

The kind of silence accompanied by a deer-caught-in-the-headlight look.

“Don't worry,” she assured him so she could end the uncomfortable silence. “I don't expect you to lie and say you feel something for me that you don't. I just want you to see that marriage isn't an option.”

Even if part of her wanted it to be.

Imagine—marriage to Ryan McCall? A week ago, Delaney would have considered it unthinkable, and now it seemed to take hold of her.

Ryan's wife.

His lover.

The two of them raising Patrick together.

Her, waking up to him each morning. And, yes, maybe even him falling in love with her. But that was a slippery fantasy that could easily go another direction, and she could end up with a broken heart. Ryan might never learn to love her, might never be able to let go of the past.

Disgusted with herself and her reaction to Ryan's proposal, Delaney borrowed a trick from him and stared out the window. Not that she actually saw the scenery.
No. Her mind and every other part of her were on his proposal.

She'd rejected it. Adamantly. But perhaps she shouldn't have. Marriage with love was the ideal, but for the sake of her son perhaps she could bring her ideal goals down to a more realistic level.

She glanced at Ryan.

She'd come to know him quite well in a short period of time. Delaney could thank the danger and Patrick's circumstances for that. But it didn't change what she felt in the deepest part of her heart. She couldn't marry a man who didn't love her. That would set her up to relive her parents' mistake of trying to be together for the sake of a child.

“What the hell?” she heard Ryan mumble.

Delaney followed his gaze out his own window and spotted a glint of…something. Something in the thick cluster of trees about twenty yards from the road. She didn't even have time to speculate about what it was or why it had alarmed Ryan.

“Get down!” he yelled.

But he didn't wait for her to do that. Ryan dove at her, tackling her, and knocked her flat onto the seat.

She soon realized why he'd done that.

There was a shrill scream of sound. A horrible noise. Of metal ripping through the metal of the car. And the glass. Ryan's window shattered, the sheet of safety glass didn't spew toward them but instead crashed with a walloping thud onto them and the seat.

Ryan cursed, and she felt him fumbling in his jacket. For his gun, she realized. Worse, the driver slammed on his brakes. Stopping.

Delaney's breath froze. “Someone's shooting at us?” she asked. Not a calm request for information, either. She practically shouted it. And a split-second later, she got her own confirmation.

Another blast.

Then another.

The bullets tore through the car, one gashing the roof, and the other slamming into the leather seat just an inch or so above Ryan's head.

It took ten years off her life to see how close the bullet had come. Delaney grabbed him and pulled hard, dragging him onto the floor with her.

“Clancy, get us out of here!” Ryan yelled to the driver.

The man groaned in pain. “I've been hit.”

“Bad?” Ryan asked.

“Bad,” the man confirmed.

Oh, God.

It was obvious the shooting wasn't just a scare tactic. No. This was real, and with each bullet, one of them could be killed.