‘Declan?’
She fitted so perfectly into his arms. Her breath was on his throat like a butterfly kiss. Her voice was hoarse, and he definitely caught the sexy catch.
‘Aren’t you going to answer it, then?’
The phone. The damned phone.
He exhaled and kept his voice steady—this time not from frustration but from pure, blatant, feral need. Clearly his sister didn’t need to hear that.
‘Niamh. This had better be important.’
‘Hello to you too, Dec. Now, I was just planning ahead awhile... You know Mammy’s birthday’s coming up...’
Please. Really? Mid-pash? ‘Can this not wait?’
‘Why? What the hell are you up to on a fine Saturday afternoon?’
He growled. ‘You don’t want to know.’
‘Wrong, Declan. I do want to know. What’s her name?’
Was nothing private? ‘None of your business.’
‘Sure, that’s an odd name for a girl. Now, tear yourself away and talk to me about Mammy’s birthday. She’d love to see you here...’
He listened to his sister blather on and his blood pressure started its usual upward hike as his libido crashed into his boots. ‘I’ll see what I can do, but you know what it’s like. I do have work to do.’ He dragged his hand away from Kara, stood and took a few paces away so she wouldn’t hear the drama. ‘We’re fierce short-staffed as it is.’
‘It’s always work with you, Dec. But I think seeing you would be a real tonic for her.’
‘I have to work, for God’s sake.’ What more did they want from him? He sent home a good amount of money, and it was a far cry from what he’d been forced to do as a kid just to get some food on the table. At least he was on the right side of the law now. ‘How the hell else do we pay for the things you all want? Look, I’ll see what I can do.’
In reality, he didn’t want to face the endless questions that Niamh seemed to think were perfectly acceptable for a girl to ask her brother...and added to five-fold by the rest of his siblings and his mother.
When are you settling down?
What about babies?
Found a nice girl yet?
Despite her own experiences his mother seemed to think that the answer to life, the universe and everything was finding a nice girl. He’d found plenty. He just hadn’t loved any of them. And didn’t plan to any time this side of the millennia.
‘Look, I’ll get back to you. I have things to do.’
‘Okay, big brother, think about it. Be good. And be careful. And if you can’t be careful...you know the drill. Buy a pram.’
Yada. Yada.
He flicked the phone into his pocket and inhaled deeply, trying to find the equilibrium that had been shattered first by a sexy siren and then by his stroppy sister.
Once calm, he turned back, ready to start again with Kara. ‘Now, where were we...?’
But she’d disappeared.
He searched the crowd and saw her walking back to the main wedding group, being led by a pair of too-cute little girls in party dresses that reminded him of happier days with his sisters—before the fire had maimed their mother, sent their feckless father running away from his responsibilities and catapulted Declan into being the main breadwinner when there were no jobs for a scrawny kid, no way of earning money to pay for things.
And still, so many years later, they relied on him for everything.
As if she could sense his eyes on her smooth, straight back, Kara turned and scanned for him. Once she’d found him she shrugged a little, her eyes bright but her smile regretful. Regretful about what? he wondered. That things had nearly got out of control again? Or regretful that they hadn’t?
And then, as she wandered through the wedding party, he thought perhaps Kara’s feelings were all mixed up with her own past. Did she regret coming to a wedding that would surely bring back memories of her own and of her war hero husband? Was that why he’d felt her tiny shift towards temptation? Did she just need comfort?
And why the hell did he care? Because the last thing he needed was another woman to worry about.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘SAFIA IS PROGRESSING very well indeed, at least physically.’
True to his word, Declan was presenting Kara’s idea to Safia’s parents in the burns unit family meeting room. Their first meeting since the weekend was going well so far.
No, their first meeting with Safia’s parents was going well...but Kara was struggling with the near-kiss thing, and how easily she fell under Declan’s spell every darned time. A lucky save by that pair of darling girls had put an end to something before it had started, but she was losing self-control with every touch, every look, every minute she spent with him.
Especially when he was dressed, like today, in a smart dark suit and an open-necked camel-coloured shirt. One tiny glimpse of his chest and she was a quivering mess of hormones. And it was way too early in the day for that.
‘We have completed phases one to three of her management so far. She is alive and thriving, her burns are now all in a closed healing phase. She is having regular therapy to prevent contractures and she is responding well to that.’
The Sheikh nodded. ‘Yes, we are delighted with your care. We are most grateful. She is getting better.’
‘Well, yes. Her wounds are healing.’ Declan leaned forward and frowned. He seemed to be choosing his approach carefully. ‘But I’m concerned about her low mood.’
‘She is sad, but she’ll feel better soon.’ Safia’s mother had clucked around her daughter like an anxious mother hen from the minute they’d arrived. And who wouldn’t? Who wouldn’t fight for their child’s life? Love for her daughter shone through, but it was a little...stifling.
‘Until a few years ago burns specialists spent a lot of time and emphasis just on treating the burns and keeping the patient alive. Now survival is much more likely that we have to look at how patients like Safia are going to fare in the future, once they’ve been released from hospital. That’s why we’ve been giving her physiotherapy since the day she arrived.’
‘But I don’t know what to do with her. She just sits and stares out of the window.’
Declan nodded, his hands clasped in front of him, his eyes soft and gentle. ‘I know. I know. And I understand how upsetting it is for you to see her like this. We need to get her interested in things again. What does she like doing?’
‘Make-up, clothes, horse-riding. She...you know...hangs out. In our country obviously she studies, goes to parties...shopping...friends. But she won’t let them come to see her. We’d fly them in, but she refuses to see anyone.’ The Sheikha nervously toyed with the edge of her beaded shawl. ‘She’s always got an opinion on everything. She’s a handful at times. But now she doesn’t seem interested in anything.’
‘Ms Stephens has an idea we want to run by you.’
Declan’s eyes fell on Kara, making her pulse jump in a skittering dance. Damn. Stop it, already.
‘We thought, perhaps, that Safia might benefit from sharing a room with other people her own age?’
‘Absolutely not.’ Sheikh El-Zayad’s voice filled the room. He was a man used to getting his own way, who commanded everyone and everything. ‘I appreciate your concern, Mr Underwood, and I’m very grateful for your help in her progress, but my daughter shares a room with no one. She is the Sheikha of Aljahar—a princess. She does not mix with other...ordinary people. We have paid for privacy—it is very important to us.’
Declan shot a quick look over to Kara. No one else would have noticed but his jaw had tightened just a little. He took a deep breath and smiled, his voice now soothing, but with an authoritative edge.
‘We could compromise. Perhaps she doesn’t necessarily need to share a room—but she does need stimulation. It’s very impo
rtant she has contact with people her own age—not just your aides and...yourselves. The physiotherapist is happy to come and attend to her in her room—but I do think she needs to be occupied for the other hours of the day. At the very least she should come out and join in some activities, eat her meals with the others. Long-term psychological effects on people with burns injuries are well documented. We need to keep her motivated.’
Kara knew he wasn’t just talking about his professional experience. So his actions and his words were oceans apart. Because, yes, even though she’d tried hard not to listen in to his private conversation with his sister she’d caught snippets.
He was refusing to go and visit them—and using work as an excuse. Maybe it was easier dealing with someone who wasn’t a relative than having to face your own realities at home.
‘With all due respect, Your Highnesses...’ She smiled to them both, knowing her voice was rising just a little. ‘Integration is a huge part of our therapy here. I don’t want to alarm you, but I know you appreciate honest talking...’ She waited until she’d received a positive response from them. ‘Safia won’t get better unless she sees some normality in her life—she’s had enough of pain and being shut in that room on her own. I’m concerned about the risk of depression. She needs to be engaged. And she needs, really, to be part of this discussion.’
‘Thank you, Kara.’
Safia’s voice had them all turning quickly to see her standing in the hallway. Dressed in jeans and a baggy sweatshirt, she looked like a regular teenager apart from the left side of her face and her hands which were covered in dressings.
She was pale and unsmiling. ‘Talking about me again, Daddy?’
Declan stood and brought Safia into the room, offered her a seat. ‘Hey. Thanks for coming by. It’s nice to see you out of that room for a change. It must be boring on your own all day?’
‘Duh. Of course.’ Safia shook her head, her black curls bobbing round her shoulders.
As a member of a famous royal family her photos had graced the newspapers from an early age; her face was well known. She’d been a pretty girl—a beautiful teenager. Kara’s heart clenched at what the future held for Safia now. She couldn’t begin to imagine the grief and loss the girl felt.
She watched as Declan and Safia sat across from each other, saw his generous smile and a concern that went beyond his professional obligation. He pointed through the glass door to the ward where, as luck would have it, a seventeen-year-old boy who’d been brought in after a freak lightning strike had burnt his back, walked past. Wearing teen trademark baggy-bottomed trousers that hung off his hips, and a sideswiped fringe, he stopped and gave Safia a hesitant smile. Then a sort of half-wave before he disappeared into the ward.
Declan watched this with interest, a hint of a smile playing over his lips. ‘But I bet you wouldn’t be interested in spending time out there, Safia? Although Jack’s got an interesting story to tell.’
The girl shrugged, but there was a spark in her eyes. Finally they’d got her interested in something. ‘Anything’s got to be better than sitting around with you lot.’
Declan grinned. ‘Feeling better already?’
‘Maybe.’
Kara glanced to Safia’s parents, who looked at each other and shook their heads. They murmured quietly in a language Kara didn’t understand and finally Safia’s mother sighed. ‘Okay. If you think so. Do it.’
‘Wait—’ Sheikh El-Zayad tried to speak, but his wife stopped him, patting him on the knee.
She turned to Declan and winked, ‘Don’t worry. Leave him to me.’
It was very early days but Kara took the wins as they came. Safia needed to be stimulated and motivated—whatever it took. ‘Okay, as soon as there’s a bed free we’ll move her in. Until that happens, how about we take a little stroll down through the main ward and see who’s hanging out?’
Please be there, lightning boy.
‘Yes.’ Declan nodded his thanks to the Sheikh and Sheikha and bowed them through the door first, then followed with Safia. ‘There’s a games console over there. You fancy your chances against me?’
The Princess frowned. ‘A video game?’
‘Why not? It’s great therapy for those thumbs.’
‘Daddy would have a fit.’
She gave them her first real smile for weeks. But then surely anyone would have to smile with the offer of a few more minutes in Declan’s company?
‘You’re on.’
* * *
It was late when Kara eventually managed to snatch time to write up her case notes for the day. Hiding out in Declan’s offices at Kate’s, she’d dodged the Sheikh’s aides with their endless questions about maintaining Safia’s dignity in the face of such intrusions as sharing the patients’ TV room. Funny, what most people took for granted they’d had to fight for, for Safia—just some friends, a little hope...
Kara’s feet ached—but then that was nothing new. Her head ached—but that was becoming a habit whenever Declan was around. Too much arousal could do that to a girl. The sooner she was home and out of the Declan Underwood temptation zone the better. Gathering her paperwork together and stuffing it in her bag she finished up.
The phone rang. Damn. She looked round for someone to answer it, but of course his secretary had left for the day, and Declan was consulting next door. Who the hell would ring his rooms so late?
Sighing, she picked up. ‘Mr Underwood’s phone.’
‘Can I speak to Declan, please?’ The voice was soft and sweet, unmistakably Irish. Niamh? Aoife? Briana? Roisin?
‘I’m afraid he’s consulting at the moment. Can I take a message?’
There was a frustrated sigh. ‘Sure. But it won’t make a blind bit of notice. Tell him Niamh rang and he must call me back...immediately. It’s very important.’
‘You could try his mobile phone?’
‘It’s rung and rung to the voice mail a million times. The man’s either got cloth ears or he’s avoiding me. I’m resorting to underhand tactics and phoning him at work.’ There was a smile in her voice. ‘He hates that.’
The smile was catching, Declan’s sister seemed warm and friendly—the kind of sister Kara would have liked if she’d been lucky enough to have one. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll tell him. Oh, wait—he’s just here.’
He’d come through the adjoining door.
‘Still here? It’s after five...’
He grinned and her heart melted. His eyes glittered, and the soft upward curve of his lips was like a promise.
‘You know what that means.’
The five o’clock rule. Kissing was apparently allowed, according to him. Not her.
Dragging her heart back behind its steel barrier, she pointed to the receiver in her hand. ‘Niamh’s on the phone. She says it’s important.’
‘It’s always important.’ He threw some files onto his secretary’s desk and shook his head. ‘Tell her I’ll call her later.’
Kara grinned. ‘He’s just coming, Niamh. He’s—’
‘Hey, I can wait all night. Just don’t, for God’s sake, try making excuses for him. He’s a terrible liar. Tell him I’ve got more willpower than he’ll ever have and I can keep ringing until he answers. And I will.’
Kara had no doubt that Niamh was just as willful as Declan.
They clearly all loved each other in a very definite sibling kind of way. Kara covered the speaker and held it out to Declan, shaking her head. ‘She said she’s had to resort to underhand tactics...’
She looked at the tired lines around his eyes, the tight clench of his jaw. Here he was, at way too late o’clock, still at work, planning his Theatre list for tomorrow, seeing clients after hours to make sure he could fit them into his schedule, attending to the needs of everyone but himself. And now this.
With a shock s
he realised how much she wanted to see him smile again. To feel the warmth of his smile on her, his breath, his touch. And soon.
‘Do you always inspire such devious strategies in women?’
‘Sadly only the ones I’m trying to avoid.’ Glancing at the phone he let his eyebrows dip into a frown. Then he looked back at her.
She saw the mirrored need in his eyes—a raw need that fired something deep in her, something that shivered through each nerve-ending. Heat pooled in her gut, and lower, and then he was next to her, one hand in her hair, the other on her back. His mouth was on her neck.
‘Declan.’ She thrust the phone towards him. ‘Your family loves you enough to be bothered. Talk to your sister. Be nice. That is all.’
‘What is this? Secrets of the sour, sassy sisterhood?’ He let out a contrite sigh. ‘Ah, hell, give it here.’
* * *
Damn. Declan grabbed the phone, once again torn between the woman in front of him and his family’s needs. He’d been too close to grabbing her and having her against that wall. To losing himself in her.
‘Niamh. This had damn well better be important.’
‘Hello to you too, Declan.’ His sister lowered her voice. ‘So, are you sleeping with her yet?’
‘What?’ His eyes popped as he strode across the room, out of Kara’s earshot. ‘No.’
‘But you want to—she sounds nice. Won’t take any crap from you, I wouldn’t think.’
‘Niamh, what do you want?’
‘Apart from a big brother who shows his face every now and then? Sure, Declan, I can’t remember what your ugly features look like these days.’ She sighed. ‘Is she pretty?’
He glanced at Kara, who now appeared to be nose-deep in a patient’s notes. He looked at the soft golden shine on her hair, the way her lips twitched, that mouth that tasted of sunshine and sweetness.
‘Yes. Very. Now, this is exactly why I live in London—to get away from all this...interrogation.’
‘No, you live in London to get away from all those poor broken-hearted Dublin girls who wanted to make a decent man of you... And to avoid the truth.’
200 Harley Street: The Shameless Maverick Page 10
