Peekaboo Baby (9 page)

And then something happened.

Amid all the surging adrenaline and the rushed breaths, amid all the fear, Patrick's teary eyes went to Ryan's. A long, lingering, inquisitive look. Then, Patrick smiled as if he knew this man had just saved the day.

“Magic, huh?” Delaney managed to say, though she did have to speak around the sudden lump in her throat.

“Hmm.” And that was all Ryan said for several moments. In the distance, Delaney could hear the sirens from the fire truck. It wouldn't be long now before she could be reassured that the flames were completely out.

“Please tell me you don't intend to stay here after this,” Ryan said, his voice raspy from the smoke and the coughing. He stared at her.

No.
Glared
at her.

He was daring her to defy him now.

“Let me rephrase that. You
can't
stay here, Delaney. It wouldn't just be stupid. It'd be dangerous.”

She wanted to argue. Or better yet, she wanted to come up with some other solution. But until the police investigated this latest incident, they probably wouldn't be able to provide her with protection. And even then, she was willing to bet that the protection would be paltry compared to what Ryan could offer her.

And Patrick.

Ryan would definitely keep him safe.

Her son was her number-one priority. Her
only
priority. To protect him, she had to swallow her pride. Her fears. And her concerns about Ryan.

Even if that would put them literally under his roof.

Where she couldn't possibly distance herself from him.

But Delaney had to wonder—how soon would it be before she seriously regretted her decision to accept Ryan's help?

Ryan had been right when he'd told her that his estate was massive, and even
massive
was an understatement.

Delaney hadn't noticed much about the place during her other visit, but she noticed now. The main house was three floors, and it was sprawling. Twenty-two rooms, Ryan had told her, surrounded by six hundred acres.

And it all belonged to him.

“This is a working ranch,” Ryan said as he escorted Patrick and her inside the house. “If you're interested in riding, that can be arranged. There's also a pool and a gym.”

Delaney mumbled thanks, something she'd been doing a lot during the drive to the estate and their walk inside.

Patrick seemed as awestruck with the place as Delaney did. Her son's curious gaze slid from one part of the house to the other.

“Come this way,” Ryan instructed, leading them up
the stairs. “While we were at the police station giving our statements about the fire, I called Lena Sanchez, my household manager. I asked her to set up a nursery.”

They went past the door to his office, a room Delaney definitely remembered. It was where all of this had started. If she'd never come that night, Ryan probably wouldn't have heard about the cloning rumors, and she wouldn't be here now.

They went down a hall, the walls lined with expensive-looking Native American rugs and artwork. Delaney tried not to gawk and finally just gave up and stared anyway.

“I know what you're thinking,” Ryan commented, glancing back at her.

Delaney nodded. “Yes. This place is incredible.”

Judging from Ryan's suddenly furrowed brow, her response was a surprise. “I figured you were thinking about how many businesses I'd taken over to be able to afford all of this.”

No. That hadn't crossed her mind.

But it should have.

After all, Ryan had been her father's enemy for years, and yet here she'd walked into his lavish home and hadn't given the old issues even a passing thought.

Progress, maybe.

Or maybe his recent knightly deeds had blinded her to a lot of things.

“I inherited the place from my great-uncle about five years ago,” Ryan explained. He pointed to a portrait on the wall, and judging from the resemblance, it was the relative they were discussing.

“But I thought you didn't know your family.”

“Oh, I knew a few of them, Uncle Jess included. I even lived here for two weeks when I was ten. I was in between court hearings to determine placement, and the social worker goaded Uncle Jess into taking me.” He paused, and a muscle jumped in his jaw. “It didn't work out.”

“Still, he left you this place,” Delaney said softly.

Ryan shrugged. “Only because he left no will and by then no other living relatives. I got the estate by default.”

Yet Ryan had accepted the inheritance anyway. Not because he needed the money. Delaney did the math; and Ryan would have been twenty-seven then. Married to a wealthy heiress, and thanks to some highly lucrative and risky investments in real estate, he was already wealthy in his own right.

“Accepting this place was like trying to recreate your family history?” she asked, repeating what he'd told her earlier about the pocket watch.

The corner of his mouth lifted. “Something like that.”

Ryan stopped and opened one of the doors. He stepped aside so that Delaney could enter first, and it didn't take her long to realize this was the nursery. Like
Patrick's room at her house, it had a crib, a rocking chair and a changing table.

But that's where the similarities ended.

Size aside—and it was huge—there were stuffed animals—dozens of them—arranged neatly throughout the room. And toys. Trains, basketballs and other assorted playthings that weren't age appropriate for Patrick, but since her son's eyes widened even more, they obviously captured his attention.

Patrick reached for a bright blue bunny-shaped rattle on the changing tray, and he practically wiggled out of her arms to get it.

“For the record, none of this belonged to Adam,” Ryan explained. He picked up the rattle and handed it to Patrick. Her son thanked him with a squeaky giggle and promptly began to bop Ryan and himself with the toy. Finally, Patrick managed to stuff half of a bunny ear into his mouth.

“And this wasn't Adam's room,” Ryan continued. “Lena made calls to a few department stores and arranged for immediate delivery of some things.” He surveyed the room. “She obviously got a little carried away.”

“Obviously.” And while Delaney appreciated the household manager's effort to make her son feel at home, it didn't exactly put her at ease.

“This is a temporary arrangement,” Delaney reminded him.

Ryan's gaze slashed to hers. “My motives aren't sin
ister. All I want is to make sure Patrick and you are comfortable and
safe.
”

And with that, Ryan walked across the nursery and threw open a door. “Your room's in here. I thought you'd like to stay close to Patrick. There's a monitor on your nightstand so you can hear and watch him at all times. If you need a break, Lena has volunteered to step in as nanny.
Temporary
nanny,” he amended.

Ryan proceeded to point out the bathroom and the closet of her suite in a tone that had definitely cooled.

Delaney touched Ryan's arm when he started toward the door on the opposite side of the room. “I really do appreciate all of this.”

He nodded, paused and nodded again. “You have every reason in the world to distrust me. The truth is—I did a hostile takeover of your father's manufacturing company. And not because I especially wanted or needed it. It was just another conquest. What I did wasn't illegal, but that didn't make it right, either. I'm sorry for that.”

The admission should have made Delaney feel a lot better. An apology, something she'd thought she'd never hear from Ryan. However, like the well-stocked nursery, it sent an uneasy feeling through her.

It took a moment for her to realize why.

The bitterness in their past was a fierce barrier between them. A barrier she needed, after the way she'd responded to the brief encounter in his arms. With that particular obstruction gone, Delaney had to wonder
what would stop her now from falling hard for this man who could ultimately take everything from her?

And the answer was—
nothing
would stop her.

Whether she wanted it to happen or not, she was already falling hard for Ryan McCall.

 

“S
O THE FIRE WAS ARSON
,” Ryan concluded after listening to his security manager's report.

“The police are still investigating,” Quentin explained, “but all signs point to it being purposely set. Obvious signs, too. It appears the perpetrator soaked some rags with paint thinner and then ran about thirty yards of twine outside the garage. A makeshift fuse. Amateurish but effective.”

Definitely. And potentially lethal. “What about witnesses? Did any of Delaney's neighbors see anything?”

“No. The cops are still checking on Richard Nash though, and they gave me the standard line—they're looking for evidence, suspects, etc. etc.”

It wasn't nearly enough. The fire had been a real wake-up call. He needed to get to the bottom of what was happening before things escalated. And, unfortunately, Ryan was afraid things would escalate soon.

“You want me to pay a visit to Richard Nash, have a chat with him?” Quentin asked.

“No.” Ryan didn't even have to think about that. He'd leave Delaney's father to the cops for now. Their history could have Nash claiming foul play. Maybe the
police could find some kind of physical evidence to link the man to the fire. That would tie everything up in a neat little package.

But Ryan couldn't count on that happening.

Something in his gut told him there'd be no neat packages for this one.

“Tomorrow afternoon I have an appointment with the director of the New Hope clinic, Dr. Emmett Montgomery,” Ryan told Quentin. “He might have answers that'll help with all of this.”

Questioning Dr. Montgomery was a long shot, but it was a possibility that Ryan couldn't overlook. Richard Nash was the obvious culprit, but he wasn't the only one. Ryan didn't intend to ignore the theory that the fire and the car accident might have been warnings to send Delaney running. A woman on the run wouldn't be able to answer questions about the New Hope clinic's wrongdoings.

Wrongdoings.

Not really an appropriate word, considering that it might have brought back his son.

Ryan had resisted it for hours, but no longer. Trying to suppress his guilt, he turned on the monitor next to his bed, and the video feed of the nursery popped onto the screen. Just like that, with the flick of a button, he had a perfect view of Patrick asleep in the crib. The little boy was tucked in for the night.

As he'd done at Delaney's house, Ryan studied the precious little face. A bizarre kind of torment. While the
face was so genetically similar to his own, this was not a child he could claim totally as his own.

Yet, he couldn't let Patrick go, either.

Ryan adjusted the angle of the video feed and waited. He listened carefully and thought he might have heard Delaney's shower running, which meant it wouldn't be long before she came back into the nursery to check on him.

Ryan didn't even try to stop himself. Like watching the monitor, it was a battle he'd lose. Instead, he used the adjoining door of his suite. A door that led directly into the nursery. It was a security precaution.

Among other things.

Security, because he hadn't wanted Patrick or Delaney to be too far away from him. However, his concerns weren't all security related. One look at the child in the crib, and Ryan knew that was true.

And that his feelings didn't just apply to Patrick, either.

No.

They applied to Delaney, as well.

And that didn't please him.

Delaney and Patrick weren't his for the taking. Besides, even if Delaney wanted him in her life, and that, too, was unlikely, Ryan couldn't take that risk again. She might have awakened something inside him, but he was certain other parts of him, including his heart, had been buried right along with Sandra and Adam.

For everyone's sake, he needed to maintain a status quo. He couldn't go through that pain again.

Ryan reached down and lightly brushed his fingers over Patrick's hair. It felt like tiny threads of gold silk. Definitely not a status quo kind of feeling.

“Is he still asleep?”

The voice startled him, and Ryan jerked back his hand as if he'd been caught raiding the cookie jar. He reeled around and saw Delaney in the doorway of her bedroom.

She'd obviously just finished her shower. Her hair was still damp, lying against the tops of her shoulders. Even in the dimly lit room, Ryan could see that her face was flushed, probably from the heat of the hot water.

He felt himself flush, too. Definitely not from a shower, but from the immediate effect she had on him. His reaction to Delaney was quickly becoming a conditioned response. All he had to do was look at her, think of her, and all sorts of bad thoughts popped into his head.

Like now, for instance.

Even though he'd only kissed her once, he was having no trouble filling in the blanks of how it would feel to take that kiss one step farther. Okay, a lot of steps farther. So far that they wouldn't be able to stop with just a kiss.

How would she respond to his kiss? To his touch? And how would it feel to make love to her? No. Not
make love.
That implied something gentle and controlled. A leisurely pace. His desire for her wasn't of the controlled, leisurely
variety. It was more in the take-her-now category. An urgency. A need so overwhelming that Ryan caught on to the crib to stop himself from moving toward her.

Oh, man. He wanted her.

Judging from the smile she offered him, she had no idea of the lecherous thoughts on his mind. If she did, she'd have turned and run in the other direction.

But she didn't run. Cinching her silky emerald-green bathrobe around her, she walked closer, bringing the scent of the soap, shampoo and
her.
It was a combination that went straight through him. Like a double shot of expensive whiskey.

Ryan gripped the crib railing even harder.

He was
so
in trouble here.

“He's still asleep?” she repeated.

Ryan nodded and forced himself to breathe so he could talk. “The question is—for how long?”

“Probably through the night. A recent occurrence. Lately, he's been skipping his two a.m. feeding.” She looked around. “Your room must be nearby. I checked the monitor before I got in the shower. You weren't here then, and I only stayed in the shower a minute or two.”

Feeling even more like a cookie thief, Ryan hitched his thumb to the other adjoining door. “I have a monitor, as well.”

She nodded and took a deep breath. “You're concerned about something going wrong.”

“Yes. But you'll be all right here at the estate. I just
didn't want to be too far out of earshot in case…well, just in case.”

Delaney joined him at the crib. But she didn't just join him. She stood right next to him. Her arm brushed against his. “Part of me greatly appreciates that.”

“And the other part?” he asked, not easily. His body seemed to be revving itself up for a long, satisfying bout of sex. Maybe they would be against the wall. On the floor. Hell, the location was optional. Except it wasn't. Because sex between them couldn't happen. And his brain knew that, so he pushed that revving aside.

“The other part of me wants to deny that there's any reason whatsoever for us to be paranoid.”

Ryan tipped his head to Patrick. “There's our reason.”

“All sixteen-and-a-half pounds of him,” she whispered, smiling. She gave Patrick's blanket an adjustment that it didn't need and kissed his cheek. “He's growing so fast. Practically right before my eyes. And he seems to babble some new sound every day. When he strings all of those sounds and syllables together, it makes me wonder if we have a future rock star on our hands.”