Dad By Choice

That was probably meant to be another crack about her arriving late this morning, Abby figured. The smile she forced to her lips was as fake as the Monopoly money she used to play with as a child. “I’m sorry but I’m fresh out of roses to pin on you.”

So it was going to be like that, was it? “I’m not interested in roses, Doctor, I’m interested in your support.”

“So I gather.” Abby leaned against the door she was holding ajar. “Listen, Mr. McDermott—” She paused a second, pressing her lips together. There was a pithy way to phrase this, but for the life of her, she couldn’t summon the energy to think of it. She just wanted him to go away. “I know I said that I would see you after hours, but I’m afraid something’s come up.”

Kyle hadn’t gotten where he was in life by allowing himself to be summarily brushed aside. “What?”

His question took Abby by surprise. Someone else would have told him it was none of his business, or hidden behind the convenient excuse that there was a baby on the way and she had to rush off to deliver it.

But Abby didn’t like evasion and she liked lying even less. Living by the “do unto others” edict that had been so firmly impressed upon her as a child, she had no option but to tell him the truth.

She didn’t have to be friendly about it, though.

“If you must know, I’ve been called to the house for a family meeting.”

“You hold meetings?” He didn’t know all that much about the Maitlands, only what he read in passing, and by reputation. He wondered if they were all cold, passionless people who were emotionally distant from one another. It would seem logical that they would be, if family get-togethers were referred to as “meetings.”

Though normally easygoing, Abby felt herself taking offense at the tone he used. What right did he have to question her or her family? “We do when there are babies dropped on our doorstep and fingers pointed at us.”

Kyle stared at her. “You lost me.” He’d had no opportunity to listen to the radio on his way over; he’d been dictating a letter. He had no idea what she meant.

“No, but I’m trying to.” With a toss of her head, she turned on her heel. Walking back to her office, she shed her lab coat as she went.

Kyle followed. She wasn’t wearing the suit jacket he’d seen her in earlier, he thought. And she’d done something to her hair. Let it down. It made her look younger. Softer.

He couldn’t help noticing, when she swung around again to face him, that the beige turtleneck sweater she had on clung very appealingly to her breasts. Especially as she drew in a deep breath. He realized that he was staring and raised his eyes to her face again.

She should have just politely shut the door on him, Abby thought. She wasn’t any good at excuses. “I know that this must seem like I’m trying to brush you off—”

“Good call.”

Kyle knew she was going to try to make it a done deal if he didn’t say something to stop her. He needed this woman backing him up if he was going to have a prayer of convincing Marcie to be sensible. It wasn’t hard to see that his sister thought the world of Abby Maitland. The woman was the first role model Marcie had turned to since…he couldn’t remember when.

Sensing that she was a person who could be appealed to on an emotional level, he went that way. “Look, Doctor, it might not seem like it to you, but I really love my sister and I only want what’s best for her.”

Given her track record as far as men went, Abby knew that she wasn’t always the best judge of character when it came to the opposite sex. But she believed he was sincere. Or at the very least, that he believed himself to be sincere. He’d proven that by making time in the “busy schedule” Marcie had complained to her about. And there was the matter of the birthing classes. Marcie had signed her brother up as her partner. It spoke to Abby of a strong bond, no matter what words might be flying around to the contrary.

That all counted for something.

Tossing her lab coat over the back of her chair, she reached for her jacket and proceeded to put it on. “Yes, I believe that you do.” The right sleeve was giving her trouble as she tried to push her arm through. Par for the course today, she thought. “But I really do have to be at my mother’s…”

Her voice trailed off as she felt a pair of strong, masculine hands easing the jacket onto her shoulders. She hadn’t even realized that he’d moved behind her. Something akin to a misty premonition zigzagged through her before vanishing. She hadn’t a clue what that was all about, and had less than no time to ponder it.

Turning around, Abby found herself a hairbreadth away from him. Surprised, she felt a spike of adrenaline shoot through her. The pounding in her head increased, and she winced involuntarily.

He saw the pain in her a second before she winced. “What’s the matter?”

“Tension headache.” A vague shrug accompanied the confession she knew she should have kept to herself. She wasn’t a complainer by nature. Not even when her heart was hurt. No one in the family had any idea just how deeply she’d been wounded by Drew Brandon’s duplicity. It was something that, for the most part, she kept to herself. Only a couple of her friends even came close to suspecting the extent of the damage Drew and his womanizing had done.

The familiar term evoked a half smile. Kyle nodded in mute sympathy. “Had more than my share of tension headaches. Sit down.”

Where did he get off ordering her around? Abby raised her chin. “I don’t have—”

He was beginning to see what it was about Abby Maitland that Marcie related to so well. They both appeared to be stubborn as hell. Resting his hands on her shoulders, he gently but firmly pushed her down into the chair. She glared up at him with eyes that were accusing and wary at the same time.

Did she think she had something to fear from him? The thought surprised him. He could handle himself in any given situation, physical or otherwise, but it had never occurred to him to use anything but his powers of persuasion when it came to women.

Kyle purposely made his voice calm and reasonable. “As you pointed out, we’re all running behind from the moment we’re born. A couple more minutes won’t put you much further in the red.” So saying, he turned her chair around so that her back was to him.

He noted that she perched more than sat—probably debating whether to bolt, he decided.

This served her right for agreeing to see him after hours, Abby thought, annoyed at her carelessness. As the daughter of wealthy parents, she knew all the precautions she was supposed to take. But she often thought of them as imprisoning her rather than keeping her safe, and she tended to be lax, preferring to think of everyone as nonthreatening.

She wasn’t all that sure about Marcie’s older brother, however. Nonthreatening wasn’t a word she would have equated with Kyle McDermott.

She felt his hands on her shoulders again, just shy of her neck. Strong, powerful hands. Hands that could easily do damage, given cause. Stiffening, she tried to rise. “I really don’t—”

The last words of the sentence failed to emerge as a shock wave shot through the top of her head in response to the pressure he was applying to the knotted muscles of her shoulders. A slight gasp escaped before she could stop it.

A whisper of guilt slipped through Kyle at the sound. He wasn’t trying to hurt her. “It’ll probably feel worse before it starts to feel better,” he warned, working his fingers farther into the rigid area.

“Too late.” She tried to brace herself and found that she couldn’t. All she could do was hold on and hope she didn’t make a fool of herself. “I think you just took off the top of my skull.”

Abby felt his hard torso against her back as he leaned forward, inspecting the area in question. She could have sworn she felt his breath move along the suddenly sensitized flesh beneath her hair.

“Nope, it’s still there.”

“Good,” she said, exhaling slowly. Why was her pulse suddenly racing? Her brother Mitchell had warned her about pacing herself and working too hard. She should have listened to him. She was paying the price for that now.

“I’ve gotten very attached to it,” Abby heard herself say.

Like thick molasses, relief moved slowly along the shoulders he was kneading up to her neck, then made its way by micro-steps to her temples. Stunned, surprised and feeling strangely light-headed, Abby took a deep breath, held it, then let it out slowly.

“Better?”

The question seemed to drift to her out of nowhere, parting a haze as it came. “Yes. A little.” With effort, she forced herself to turn the chair to face him, though the magic the man performed was seductive.

As was the feel of his hands on her shoulders.

Abby raised her eyes to his, trying not to cling to the sensation he’d created. “And that’s all I’m going to have time for.”

Kyle had no idea why a smile was forming within him. He’d come here to make his arguments, to win her over to his way of thinking. Humor had no place in this; the issue was too important. And yet here he was, smiling at her for expressing the same sentiments that drove him.

“Afraid they’ll start the meeting without you?” He echoed the question that Marcie had accusingly put to him earlier, momentarily seeing her side of it.

Abby found that she had to grip the armrests to get herself up. She felt like warm liquid seeking a vessel to rest in. But at least the tension headache was miraculously gone. Her eyes held his, and despite herself she was fascinated by the half smile.

“Someone pointed out to me today that it’s disrespectful to be late.”