Though he’d wanted to deny all she’d told him about his parentage, in the end, he’d done the right thing. He’d tried to give Lucy Mulholland a chance at life.
She stepped inside the quiet, air-conditioned lobby and headed toward the elevators, plucking at the damp fabric of her dress. For early October, the weather in West Texas had been unbearably hot. Though she wanted to appear fresh and confident for this meeting, she knew she looked damp and wrinkled.
As she rode the elevator to the seventh floor, she tried to slow her pounding heart. Was she really so nervous asking for his help, or was the prospect of seeing Ryan Madison again too much to bear? She couldn’t deny she found him attractive. Not just physically, though his broad shoulders, narrow waist and long legs were not lost on her. Nor was his handsome face, the high forehead and sculpted cheekbones, the impossibly straight nose.
On the outside he appeared supremely confident, but she’d seen a side of him that Jennifer suspected he didn’t show to the rest of the world. A side he kept hidden behind his striking hazel eyes. There was a vulnerability about him, and a depth of character that wasn’t apparent at first glance. He’d probably had his share of women, but she wondered if any of them knew the real Ryan Madison.
Jennifer stepped off the elevator and came face-to-face with a wide glass door. Fine lettering told her she’d found the place—Madison Drilling and Oil. Drawing a deep breath, she stepped inside and crossed the plush reception area to the front desk. “Good afternoon. I’d like to see Ryan Madison.”
The receptionist frowned. “Do you have an appointment?”
“No,” Jennifer said. “But I called earlier and his secretary told me he’d be in the office after lunch.”
“Then you have a delivery for him?” she asked.
“Not exactly. At least not right now. But I do need to talk to him.”
“I’m sorry, miss, but I’m afraid he can’t see you without an appointment.”
“Can you just tell him that Jennifer Rodriguez is here? I’m sure he’ll agree to see me.”
The receptionist regarded her suspiciously, then nodded and pushed a button on her phone. “Connie? Would you tell Mr. Madison there’s a Jennifer Rodriguez here to see him.” She waited, examining her perfectly manicured nails as she did. Jennifer glanced down at hers, nibbled short and unpolished. “What? Well, yes. I’ll show her right in.”
Jennifer gave her a smug smile before she trailed after her toward Ryan’s office. He met them both at the door, a look of astonishment on his face. “Miss Rodriguez. This is a surprise.”
“You remember me,” she said, gulping down the tremor in her voice.
He took her elbow and showed her into his office. “Of course I remember you. Though that whole day was a blur, I do remember you.”
She sat down in a chair and watched as he circled the desk. He wore a tailored suit and silk tie. His tanned skin contrasted sharply with his starched white shirt, and his hair, just a bit too long, brushed the collar of the shirt in boyish waves. The difference between the man she’d met at the drilling site and this man was startling. She’d remembered him as solid, rugged, with a blue-collar attitude about him. But this man was smooth, sophisticated, nothing like the man she’d pictured as she laid out her plan.
Jennifer pushed out of the chair, realizing that she was completely out of her element here. “I—I shouldn’t have disturbed you. I know you’re probably very busy and—”
“Please,” he said, “don’t go. I’ve actually been thinking about you.”
She slowly lowered herself back into the chair. “Did you know Lucy is going home from the hospital today?”
“Really?” Ryan asked. “I haven’t talked to Ben since that day in San Antonio. I took the blood tests, then came home the next day. Carolyn called me later in the week to tell me they found a match. I’m glad Lucy’s doing well.”
“Carolyn and Ben got married,” she commented. “They were engaged once, a long time ago, and the case brought them back together.” She drew a deep breath. “Kind of like it brought us together.”
“Right,” he murmured.
A long silence spun out around them as Jennifer scrambled for another topic. “How are things going with your parents? Have they explained everything?”
“They’ve tried to rationalize their side of the story,” Ryan replied, “but I’m not really interested in hearing their excuses. The bottom line is they paid ten thousand dollars for me in a supermarket parking lot. That’s all I really need to know.”
“They’re your parents,” she said, distractedly fiddling with the strap of her purse. “They’ve loved you for twenty-seven years. I think that should count for something.”
“Thanks to them, I’ll never know my real parents…the Mulhollands. They’re both dead.” He met her gaze squarely. “Did Rhonda and Jeffrey ask you to come here? Or are you here for Ben and Lucy?”
Jennifer shook her head. “I have a…personal reason for coming.” She clasped her hands on her lap and drew a steadying breath. “Remember, at the hospital, you told me that if there was ever anything you could do for me, I should just ask?”
“Don’t tell me you’ve got a client who needs a kidney transplant,” he teased.
His smile warmed her blood and made her heart beat a little faster. Asking for a kidney would probably sound less ridiculous than her own request. Was she crazy to think he’d agree? Maybe it was all the hormones racing through her body that had rendered her temporarily insane. With a silent curse, she rose to her feet, ready to make her excuses and leave. But the moment she turned toward the door, a wave of dizziness washed over her.
Jennifer covered her eyes with her hand and reached back for the chair. She hadn’t eaten lunch, and with the baby, if she didn’t eat something every hour or two, she got light-headed. In a heartbeat, Ryan was out of his chair and around his desk. He grabbed her arm and slowly helped her over to the sofa. “My God, you’re as white as a sheet.”
“I—I’ll be fine,” Jennifer murmured. “I just need something to drink. A glass of juice maybe. Or a cookie.”
“Lie down,” he said, fluffing a pillow behind her. “I’ll go get you something.”
Jennifer groaned and flopped back on the pillow as he hurried out. “Why not just barf on his shoes?” she muttered. “That would get his attention.” She closed her eyes and swallowed back a wave of nausea. For most of the day, she managed to forget the implications of her pregnancy—telling her parents about the baby, preparing for childbirth, raising a child as a single mother. And then the baby would speak to her from the womb, reminding her of how radically her life had changed over the past four months. And how much it would change over the coming months.
“Ay, chica estúpida,” she murmured. “You stupid girl. How did you ever get yourself into such a mess?”
* * *
“I NEED JUICE,” Ryan said, frantically rummaging through the refrigerator in the employee lunch room. “Why don’t we have any juice?”
Ryan’s
