скачать книгу бесплатно
Good. And her reaction would have probably stayed that way while she made her exit.
If he hadn’t continued.
“Just how much money did your father ask you to extort from me?”
Delaney took a step, retraced it and glared at McCall over her shoulder. Part of her knew she should just let it go, but the man had successfully pushed another of her buttons. “Not a cent. And if you think my father would send me here to get anything from you, then you obviously know nothing about either of us.”
This time, she actually made it out the door and into the massive hall outside his office.
“Your reaction to my son’s picture was a nice touch,” he taunted. “The little fluttery breath. The oh, God. You must have figured if you could convince me that you had given birth to my son, then I’d hand over everything I own to get him back. The ultimate blackmail scheme. You father would get his revenge, and you’d both be filthy rich. Emphasis on the filthy.”
The accusation stung, because there was no way she’d use her son to get back at him. Or anyone. But the wrongful accusation wouldn’t stop her from leaving. Delaney hurried toward the stairs.
“Was I supposed to believe that you recognized something in my son’s photo?” he called out. “Or maybe a better question would be—what did you pretend to see?”
He was wrong.
That wasn’t the better question.
The better question was why had that tiny face seemed familiar? So familiar that it’d made her body respond in the most basic maternal way. She’d felt the slight contraction of her breasts and then the letdown of her milk. A preparation for nursing.
A normal response…as if she’d been looking at the face of her own son.
“HELL,” Ryan grumbled.
From the top of the stairs, he watched Delaney Nash race out the front door. Even in heels and a skirt, she was fast. Not exactly the behavior of a lying, scheming woman who had extortion or other unsavory acts on her mind. In fact, it seemed as if his accusations had genuinely upset her.
And that upset him.
Despite his cutthroat reputation and “iceman” moniker that his business cohorts had dubbed him with, he didn’t get off by hurting people.
Cursing himself and her visit, Ryan barreled down the stairs after her. He didn’t know whether to hope she’d already driven away, or that she was still there.
Fate settled it for him.
She was still there.
Delaney had made it back to her car, which was parked under the portico of the circular driveway. She was definitely trying to leave, but her car wasn’t cooperating. With each turn of the key, the engine made a clicking moan. A dead battery maybe.
She tried again. And again. Before she finally smacked her hand, hard, against the steering wheel. Her shoulders slumped, and her head dropped back onto the headrest of the seat. Then she glanced up at the ceiling as if begging for divine assistance.
Ryan walked down the flagstone steps. He knew his movement had drawn her attention because her eyes flew in his direction. For a split second he saw her sheer frustration before she replaced it with a scowl.
He deserved that scowl.
Ryan went to the driver’s side of her vehicle, and when she didn’t open the door, he reached for the handle. She in turn reached for the lock, but he was slightly quicker than she was. Before she could lock him out, he eased open the door and faced a seriously riled woman.
“You know, most people would have gotten mad and called me a name or two if I’d accused them of attempted extortion,” he commented.
Her scowl got worse. “Believe me, I considered a little name-calling.”
“It’s not too late.” He suppressed a wince when lightning zigzagged across the sky. The thunder followed, so loud that it vibrated the roof of the portico. “A lot of people go for jackass, but it’s a little overused. How about SOB? It’s short and to the point.”
She stared at him. “If you’re trying to be funny, or charming, you’re failing.”
“What I’m trying to do…” He had to stop because he had no idea what the heck he was trying to do. Yes, he did owe her a semiapology, but he was going beyond that. He was now somewhere in the uncomfortable realm of attempting to soothe her ruffled feathers.
But she was right.
He was failing.
Huffing, he looked at his household manager, Lena, who was standing in the gaping doorway of the estate. “Have a car brought to the front,” Ryan instructed. And because of the storm, he really hated this next part, but after what he’d just put his visitor through, it was something he felt he had to do. “I’ll drive Ms. Nash home.”
“No, thanks,” he heard Delaney say. “I’ll call a taxi.” Her statement wasn’t a suggestion.
Ryan reached across her and placed his hand over hers when she went for the phone nestled between the seats. Not the brightest move he’d ever made. The close confines of the car were, well, close.
Her breath met his.
And Ryan took in more of her than he’d intended. Nothing minty fresh but surprisingly appealing. There it was again. Attraction.
No, wait.
Lust.
He preferred that term. Good old basic lust. It kept things on a purely physical level.
“We’re over twenty miles from San Antonio,” he explained. “On a country road, no less. It’s dark and storming. It’ll take a taxi a half hour or more just to get here. I could have you home by then.”
He waited for her to debate that.
He also pulled back his hand, and the rest of his body, since being so close really didn’t seem like a good idea. Even if it sort of felt right.
Strange.
Why did he have this sudden need to comfort the woman? All she’d done was bring turmoil to his life.
As if he needed more.
Ryan didn’t believe her speculation about what had gone on at the fertility clinic. Not that he thought she’d made up the whole thing. No, she was experiencing too much distress for that. The person he doubted was this Dr. Keyes, and before the night was over, Ryan would find out any- and everything he could about the man.
“Well?” Ryan pressed when one of the servants drove a car beneath the portico and parked directly behind Delaney. “You can have a ride, or you can wait. Your choice. My advice is to put aside your resentment and take the ride. That way, you can get home to your son as soon as possible.”
That defused the argument he saw in all those shades of green in her eyes, and for the first time since he’d made the offer to take her home, Ryan knew she truly was considering it.
“Thank you,” she mumbled.
And then she looked directly at him and repeated the words in a sincere voice.
That impressed him. Why, he didn’t know, and Ryan was tired of trying to rationalize his reaction to her. Plain and simple, they just weren’t making sense. But then, lust rarely did.
Delaney got out and followed him to the other vehicle. “I’ll arrange to have my car towed.”
“No hurry.” Ryan waited until they were both inside before he continued. “My driver has the night off, but if he can fix it in the morning, I’ll have him bring it out to you.”
She gave him a considering stare and fastened her seat belt. “Let’s get something straight. I appreciate the ride—I really do—but I’d prefer if you didn’t try to be nice to me.”
Ryan nodded, actually understanding, and he started the car and drove away.
Sheesh.
His heart actually started to race.
“Well, I suppose I could try to accuse you of a few more crimes,” he joked. Not because he felt jovial but because his voice partly covered up the sounds of the storm. “That’d keep things from being nice.”
She folded her arms over her chest. “I’d prefer no chitchat, either.”
Okay. So his diversion had struck out for both of them. “Fair enough. After all, we’re not exactly in a chitchat relationship, are we?”
“No,” she quickly agreed.
But they were in some sort of relationship. An odd one but a relationship all the same. That strangeness had begun with her impromptu visit and had bumped up a few notches with her reaction to Adam’s picture.
“For the record, I don’t believe the technology exists for cloning a human embryo,” Ryan said. “And even if it did, why would a clinic steal the DNA needed for the embryo? Egos being what they are, I’m sure there would be plenty of volunteers who’d want to replicate themselves.”
He waited, going back over his argument and hoping it made sense.
“You’re right,” she said, sounding relieved. But not totally convinced.
Ryan was on the same page with her.
If, and it was huge if, the medical staff wanted to cover up an illegal cloning procedure, they might use whatever DNA they had available. Plus, they might not want to use genetic material that could be traced back to anyone specifically. In other words, it possibly made sense to use a deceased donor.
Hell.
That put a rock-hard knot in his stomach. He couldn’t bear the thought that anyone had used his son for medical experiments. It reopened the nightmare all over again. The pain of losing Adam and his wife was suddenly as fresh, as brutal, as it had been that stormy afternoon of the accident.
He tried—and failed—to stop the memories. The slow-motion, dreamlike feel of the call from the hospital. His frantic arrival. Ryan remembered the sterile smell, the look of pity on the ER doctor’s face. First, the doctor had pronounced his son dead, and then fifteen minutes later, his wife had lost her own fight for life. The entire time lapse between that first call and those last words was less than an hour.
And in those minutes, Ryan’s life had changed forever.
“I’m sorry,” he heard Delaney say.
For a second he was afraid he’d voiced his grief aloud and that she was offering him sympathy. He could handle a lot of things, but sympathy wasn’t one of them. He preferred her venom to that.
“I shouldn’t have come,” she continued. So no sympathy. At least none expressed anyway. Merely a further explanation of her visit. “Not without proof, and proof is something I’ll never get, because this has all been just a really bad scare.”
A really bad scare?
Not exactly his take on things.
A scare maybe for her because, as a parent, she’d no doubt wonder if the hypothetical cloning had done anything to harm her son. However, for Ryan the whole ordeal hadn’t been as much of a scare as it had been a huge setback to his healing. For one moment, one too-short moment, he’d considered the possibility that Adam was alive, that he’d been given a second chance.
A chance that was snatched away once reality set in.
Because there were no second chances.
Now, what was left was the aftermath, and Ryan knew that the aftermath was the hard part. In fact, the only thing harder was the question he’d been aching to ask her.
“Does Adam resemble your son?”
He waited.
Held his breath.
And would have prayed if he’d known what to pray for.
It obviously wasn’t an easy question for Delaney. She sat there in silence. The only sound was the rhythmic slap of the wipers, the rain and their uneven breathing.
“It’s hard to say,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “In that picture, your son was so tiny. Mine was born full-term. Eight pounds, seven ounces. He had chubby cheeks. Still does,” Delaney added in a whisper.
Full-term. One of the joys of parenthood that Ryan had never gotten to experience. But then, Adam’s life had been so short, that neither he nor his son had experienced a lot of things.
While he gave her answer some thought, he tested the high beams of his headlights, but they merely bounced back the reflection of the rain. Ryan switched back to low beams and fastened his attention on the dark, slick road that would take them to the highway.
“You don’t happen to have a picture of your son, do you?” Ryan asked.
“No.” Her response was as fast as the bolt of lightning that slashed on the horizon in front of them.
She was lying.
And she was really bad at it.
Her voice actually cracked. There was, no doubt, a picture or two tucked inside her wallet. What new mother wouldn’t carry around photos of her baby? Still, Ryan had no intentions of calling her on that lie. In a way, he welcomed it. Because if he saw a photo of her son, he’d scrutinize it and pick it apart until he forced himself to see something. Anything. That would only cause the hope to grow.
There was no room left in his heart for hope.
“I don’t know if my father ever contacts you,” she said. Out of the corner of his eye, Ryan watched her twist the trio of rings she had on her thumb, pinkie and middle fingers of her right hand. The one on her middle finger had a tiny jeweled butterfly charm dangling from it. “But if he does, I’d prefer that you not mention anything about this visit.”
“Your father only contacts me through his lawyers. And the last thing I’d discuss with him or anyone else is what happened tonight.”
“Thank you.” She paused and did more of that nervous fidgeting with her fingers. Delicate fingers. For that matter, a delicate face. Not drop-dead gorgeous, but attractive in a woman-next-door sort of way. Unfortunately, he found that appealing.
Even though that hadn’t been the case until tonight.
“But you will check up on Dr. Keyes and the embryologist, won’t you?” Delaney asked.
“Absolutely. If there’s some kind of scam, I’ll find out.”
