Dad By Choice. Marie Ferrarella
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“Not tonight, McDermott,” she murmured.
But as she reached for the telephone, Abby realized that she had no idea what his number was. He’d failed to give her his card. Probably to avoid having the appointment called off, she thought, getting to her feet.
Maybe the number was in Marcie’s file. Lisa had been too busy today to take care of the filing. That meant the files were still stacked on the side of her desk in the order the patients had been seen. Marcie’s would be on the bottom.
As she went into the outer office, now dim and eerily still after all the life that had crossed its floors today, a knock on the door startled Abby.
Crossing to it, she saw the outline of someone tall and broad-shouldered through the frosted glass.
McDermott.
“Speak of the devil,” she murmured to herself.
CHAPTER THREE
SHE LOOKED HARRIED, Kyle thought, when Abby opened the door to admit him. And her eyes looked tired. The kind of tired that came from juggling too many balls at the same time.
He’d seen the same look staring back at him from the mirror.
Would that work to his benefit or not? Would she give in quickly because she was tired, or would it make her irritable and resistant? He was hoping for the former. The argument he’d had with Marcie on the way home nearly nine hours ago was still fresh in his mind. That about filled his quota for the day. Lately, all Marcie did was argue with him, if she spoke to him at all.
He noticed that Abby wasn’t moving aside to let him enter. Behind her, the office was in semidarkness.
“I’m early,” he told her.
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