Peekaboo Baby (8 page)

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,
al
ready 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.”

 

W
ELL
,
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 anything 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 scat
tered 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 prayed 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.

Making a vigilant sweeping survey of the redwood-fenced yard, he took her arm and moved her off the porch. Not far. He positioned Patrick and her between a sprawling oak and her rose garden. Not too far from the house, but not too close either in case the fire re-erupted. He didn't stop there. As he'd done with her father, and in the garage, Ryan placed himself between them and the gate—the only exterior entrance to the yard.

“You've made a habit of coming to the rescue,” she whispered.

He swiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Lucky timing.”

But was it?

She was twenty-nine years old, and before the meeting with Ryan at his estate, she'd never been in a car accident and never experienced a fire in her home. Now, both had happened within the past two days. Even if she wanted to believe in coincidence, and she
did,
it simply didn't feel like one.

“He's okay, right?” Ryan asked, tipping his head toward Patrick.

“He's fine.”

Ryan reached out. To touch Patrick, she realized when she saw the direction his hand was moving. But he stopped and glanced down at the soot and grime on
his fingers. Patrick watched the entire encounter with his complete attention centered on Ryan.