Peekaboo Baby

by Delores Fossen

  “How’s Clancy?” Her whispered voice didn’t mask the concern. No way. It was there, as it had been on her face and in her voice all afternoon. Ryan didn’t expect it to go away anytime soon.

  “He’s stable. The doctors say he’s going to be fine, but he’ll have to stay in the hospital a few days. He’s already complaining about the food. A good sign.”

  The relief she felt was all over her face. “What about your call to Sheriff Knight?”

  Because Ryan wasn’t totally ready to let go of the Little Piggy moment, he eased down onto the floor next to them. Patrick turned in his direction.

  “The police still haven’t located Dr. Keyes,” Ryan explained. While the topic of conversation was definitely serious, he tried to smile so he wouldn’t alarm his son. “And the P.I.s who were watching your father and Dr. Montgomery say neither man left his residence.”

  “They could have slipped out.”

  “Absolutely. And that’s why SAPD is questioning them as we speak.”

  Delaney’s mouth tightened. “I should have been there for that.”

  “No. You shouldn’t have. You’re exactly where you belong—safe and sound.”

  She dropped back, lying on the floor, and she stared at the ceiling. “But for how long?”

  He’d asked himself that a hundred times while they were doing reports at police headquarters, and the only answer he could live with was forever. The shooting incident had hit too close to home in a lot of ways.

  Because both of them needed it, Ryan touched her arm and rubbed gently.

  She turned her head, glanced over at him and then at Patrick, who was between them. “So we just stay here, locked away, doing nothing?” she asked.

  “We’re doing something. We’re waiting—where it’s safe—and we’re playing with Patrick. Personally, I can’t think of a better way to spend the evening.”

  As if sensing he was now the center of attention, Patrick babbled some syllables. Kicked his legs. Gave a little grumble of protest. And rubbed his eyes again.

  “It’s his bedtime,” Delaney said. She sat up and rolled her shoulders. “Mine, too. It’s been a long day.”

  Ryan couldn’t argue with her. The day had been so eventful that Delaney had seemingly forgotten he’d proposed to her in the limo. Or maybe she’d just intentionally pushed it out of her memory. The ploy wouldn’t work. He’d remind her of his offer in the morning. Somehow he had to convince her that he would be part of Patrick’s and her lives.

  She stood, scooping up Patrick in her arms, and took him to the crib where she placed him on his side. He made a few more sounds of protest, which ended when Delaney turned on the cheery mobile. Patrick’s sleepy gaze went right to it, and with his eyelids already lowering, he watched the tiny safari animals circle around to the music.

  Ryan waited while Delaney went through the ritual that was already becoming familiar to him. She kissed Patrick, murmuring something soft and soothing, and she rubbed his belly, her fingers moving in small, gentle circles.

  “Maybe the police will have answers for us tomorrow,” she whispered.

  Her statement had a good-night ring to it, and Ryan decided she was both exhausted and probably wanted some time alone with Patrick.

  Ryan obliged her. “See you in the morning.” He kissed Patrick’s cheek. Kissed hers, as well. And he headed back to finish up his calls.

  He didn’t shut the nursery door or the one to his office, so he could still hear the music coming from the mobile. Soothing, in a way. And in another way, it was a reminder that despite all his money, efforts and good intentions, he couldn’t say with a one-hundred-percent certainty that Patrick was safe.

  Neither was Delaney.

  That put him face-to-face with all the old fears, and he cursed himself for getting too close to her. For wanting her.

  And for needing her.

  But while he cursed himself, Ryan knew there’d been no choice. Caring for Delaney seemed as natural as breathing.

  He glanced down at his wedding ring. You’re already married, she had accused. But she was wrong. He wasn’t. Ryan could pinpoint the exact moment he’d no longer felt like a married man. It happened that night she’d visited him. Actually, it had happened the very moment he laid eyes on her, and he knew there was no going back.

  Heck, he didn’t want to go back.

  Ryan tugged off his ring, opened his upper right desk drawer, and placed it next to Adam’s picture. This had become his memory drawer. And it contained his past.

  But right down the hall was his future. His son and his son’s mother. That didn’t mean he would forget Sandra and Adam. That would never happen. However, he wouldn’t let their memory stop him from reaching for what he could have now. A life with Delaney and Patrick.

  “You can put the ring back on,” he heard Delaney say.

  He raised his head and saw her standing in the doorway. She looked much like she had that evening of her first visit. Except tonight she wasn’t drenched or shell-shocked. She wore a pair of pale green cotton lounging pajamas. Baggy and probably unappealing on anyone else. But not on Delaney.

  “It’s time to put it away,” Ryan said. “Past time. Sandra would have never wanted me to die with her that day. And that’s what I’d tried to do.”

  He shut the drawer. No booming thunder or slash of lightning to signal the closure. No dramatic cosmic or spiritual event of any kind. But Ryan knew it was the first real step he’d taken toward healing. “Sandra would have liked you, you know that?”

  Delaney shook her head. “It doesn’t seem as if we had much in common.”

  “You’re wrong. You both had your priorities right. Family first. That’s where I fell short. I measured my success by my investment portfolio and the number of businesses I accumulated.”

  Ryan wouldn’t make that mistake again. He had enough money to last him several lifetimes, and he was already taking steps to restructure his company so he’d have more time to spend with Patrick.

  If Delaney allowed it, that is.

  Nature versus nurture aside, Patrick might be his biological son, but it was Delaney who was responsible for the happy, well-adjusted baby in the nursery.

  “Is he asleep?” Ryan asked.

  “Yes.” She motioned toward his desk. “Do you have a surveillance monitor somewhere around? He’s probably zonked out for the night, but I still like the idea of being able to check on him while we talk.”

  Ryan angled the computer screen so she could see it, and with a few clicks on the keyboard, they had a panoramic view of the nursery. Not just the crib. But every corner of the room.

  “Thanks. I’m feeling overprotective these days.” An understatement. Ryan could tell she was anxious and had something on her mind. Hence the while we talk comment.

  She shut the door to his office quietly and walked to his desk. No heels clicking on the hardwood floor tonight. She was barefoot, her pink toenails peeking out from the bottom of the pj’s. “I’ve been thinking about what you said in the limo, before the gunman opened fire.”

  Ryan was more than surprised that she’d decided to bring it up. Especially since she’d avoided it all afternoon and evening. “About my marriage proposal?”

  “Yes.” She paused, pursed her lips. “I think you’ll agree it’s the worst idea you’ve ever had.”

  That stung a little. He certainly hadn’t thought she would embrace the idea without an argument, but he hadn’t expected a total dismissal, either. “It would solve a lot of our issues.”

  “So you’ve said. But it would also solve a lot if Patrick and I just stayed put. I mean, we’re here already, and with the danger, there’s no way I can go home. And you were right—we’ll be safe.”

  She sounded convinced that it was the right solution. But her body language contradicted everything. She reached for her ring, probably to twist it, but instead put her hands behind her back.

  “We’re going to get the person responsible, Delaney. I promise you.�
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  “I don’t doubt it. I don’t doubt you. But it might not happen anytime soon, and I can’t risk Patrick’s life by returning to my house.” She huffed and glanced at the monitor. “Or by losing my temper and trying to barge in on an official interrogation.”

  “Glad you agree.” Not that he would have let her anywhere near her father or Dr. Emmett Montgomery. The idea was to keep them as far away from Patrick and her as possible.

  “That doesn’t mean I won’t talk to my father. You said it yourself—the P.I. spotted him on the very road where the shooting occurred. Maybe he was canvassing the place so he could find the right spot to ambush us.”

  That was Ryan’s theory, too. Of course, it didn’t rule out Keyes or Montgomery having done the same damn thing. Heck, there were times when he wondered if all three of them were in this together.

  The lightning came without warning. A slash through the darkness and the rain. A vein of golden light. Followed by the thunder. He automatically turned away from the window. Nothing obvious. He didn’t want Delaney to notice.

  But she noticed anyway.

  “Are you okay?”

  He tried to toss it off with a shrug. “I don’t care much for storms.”

  She walked to the window and looked out. “My mom didn’t like them, either. Actually, they terrified her. When I was staying with her and one would hit, she’d cover her fear by trying to turn it into a party. Pizza. Popcorn. Ice cream. Lots of TV. Anything to keep her mind off it.”

  “Did it work?”

  “Not for my mom. But since those were the rare occasions that she allowed me to eat junk food and watch TV, I didn’t have the same reaction she did. For me, storms create a sense of anticipation. Good anticipation.”

  “Conditioned responses,” he mumbled.

  The security lights filtering through the rain-streaked windows created some interesting shadows. The shadows seemed to be streaming down her body, caressing her.

  Or maybe he was simply projecting his own erotic thoughts.

  Watching her, he started to project other thoughts, as well. Not sexual ones. But rather thoughts and concerns that dealt with security and potential gunmen lurking in the woods. Because he didn’t like her standing in front of the window, Ryan caught her arm and eased her to the side.

  His side.

  Delaney studied their new positions, which likely violated her personal space, before she studied him. “You think the gunman might still be out there?”

  “Not likely. But why take the risk?”

  She stiffened, and her attention flew to the monitor. Probably to check and make sure Patrick’s crib wasn’t near a window. It wasn’t. That wasn’t by accident, either. It had been the top specification Ryan had given to Lena when he asked her to set up the nursery. Of course, at the time, he hadn’t considered gunmen and rifles, but he hadn’t wanted anyone to be able to observe their movements with long-range surveillance equipment. That was the very reason he hadn’t taken Patrick and Delaney outside on the grounds.

  Obviously satisfied that Patrick was all right, Delaney turned her attention back to him. “What conditioned you to dislike storms?”

  Ryan almost told her. A mechanical response. But then, he realized it was no longer so mechanical, because, mingled with those horrific memories, were more recent ones. Of the stormy night of Delaney’s first visit. And her presence now. That was the thing about memories and conditioned responses.

  New ones could be made to erase the bad ones.

  If he allowed them to be made, that is.

  “Storms,” she repeated, her voice whispery and tentative. “And the car accident where you lost your family. They’re connected?”

  He hadn’t braced himself to hear the truth said aloud, and he almost backed away. But the look in her eyes grounded him. She seemed to be offering him a lot with those eyes.

  Compassion.

  Comfort.

  A chance to break down a few more barriers.

  Ryan hoped his voice held steady. “It was storming that afternoon.”

  She nodded. “That’s why you were so uncomfortable the night you were driving me home.”

  “I didn’t know it was obvious.”

  “It wasn’t. But I noticed.” She touched his arm lightly with just her fingertips. Much as she’d done to Patrick while she was trying to get him to fall asleep.

  It certainly didn’t have that effect on Ryan.

  The heat rolled through him.

  She was no doubt feeling vulnerable and going through an adrenaline crash thanks to the shooting. Ryan could have probably talked himself out of touching her.

  Probably.

  But he didn’t even want to try.

  In the distance, still miles away, lightning speared through the sky again. Not one slash of light but several. Like a fireworks display put on by the gods. Thunder came as a soft continuous grumble, surrounding them.

  She turned to him slowly, and he watched the lightning dance over her face. All those angles. The sensual curve of her mouth. He suddenly wanted to feel that mouth. To take it. And to know that it was his for the taking.

  They waited a heartbeat, maybe to give the other a moment to reconsider. But the time for reconsidering was over.

  Ryan reached for her, and she reciprocated. He couldn’t have said who the winner was. Both, he decided when their mouths met. The need didn’t surprise him. But, man, the energy did. Raw, pure energy. As if they’d been waiting for this a long time.

  The jolt was instant.

  No cool, gentle touch of lips. Not this. This was all fire, all need, and it moved in fast. Storming through him. Some unstoppable force that he didn’t want to curb anyway. He wanted it to build until all of what he was feeling for her was sated.

  Delaney obviously wanted that, too. She came up on her toes, plunging her body against his. Coiling her arms around him. Both of them grappled for position. And amid all that grappling, touching and caressing, Ryan’s back hit the wall. Delaney landed against him.

  Suddenly, everything was crystal clear. Razor sharp. Powerful and honed, like the spikes of lightning that tore through the distant sky. Everything was reduced to this one moment. To now. He wouldn’t turn away from it. He wouldn’t turn away from her.

  She continued to kiss him. Not just his mouth but his cheek and his jaw, and then she took her mouth to his neck. A frantic pace. A whirlwind of energy. And all that energy was being released in the kisses.

  Ryan responded. He had no choice about that. She was taking the firestorm already inside them and fueling it until the sensations were almost unbearable. Yet, he stood there and took everything. And wanted more. So much more.

  “Make it count, Ryan.” She spoke against his skin. Her mouth was on his neck. After yanking his shirt out of the waistband of his pants, her searching fingers delved underneath to his chest to explore.

  “That’s the plan.”

  She sought out every muscle. Every inch of warm, sweat-dampened skin, even the flat nipples buried in his chest hair, until the touching was no longer enough.

  Her eyes were wild, and breath came out in short, hot bursts. That fed him in a way nothing else could, and he did some touching of his own. He slid his hand between them, over her left breast, and cupped her through her pj’s top. She was full and firm. But touching her that way was not enough.

  Not nearly enough.

  “Now,” she demanded.

  Part of Ryan, a very specific part, was pleased with the demand. His body was begging him to take her. Right then, right there. To strip off the clothes that prevented him from really touching her. From really tasting her. He went with her suggestion and pulled open her top.

  He didn’t stop there.

  Ryan located the front latch on her bra, flicked it open, and her breasts spilled into his hands.

  She moaned. A purely feminine sound of pleasure. And like everything she’d done, it had an effect on him. It sent his heart pounding and his blood racing.
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  Their bodies came together. Bare chest against bare breasts. The feel was incredible, and it gave him plenty of ideas of what he wanted to do to her. But the idea that began to flash in his head was take her now.

  So Ryan did something about that.

  He turned, repositioning them. Delaney made a small sound of protest at the temporary loss of their body contact, but any further protest faded when he backed her against the wall.

  And he touched her.

  First, her breasts. Lightly stroking her nipples with his fingertips. He didn’t stop there. He went lower. To her stomach. Firm but soft. Man, she was so soft.

  “Yes,” she murmured. Delaney dropped her head onto his shoulder, planting some kisses there. She fanned her fingers over his chest.

  Ryan took a second to savor the sensation, but every inch of him was pressing to take more of her, which he did. He slid one hand to her backside. Slipping inside her pj’s so he could cup her and press her harder and closer to him.

  Delaney cooperated. And she gave her own personal spin on things. She not only pressed harder, she pressed harder in the right place. The soft folds of her body caressed him and nearly had him seeing stars.

  Because her body caresses were making him crazy, Ryan eased his other hand down her stomach and lower. Inside her panties and into the fragile silk. His fingers found her. Wet and hot. Ready.

  That stopped her sensual press against his body. Grasping him, she actually inched back a little so he could have his way with her. He made his way through the slick moisture. A long, lingering caress that brought on a shudder, an erotic hitch of her breath.

  He wanted to feel her release, to see her face when she went over, so he continued to touch. To stroke. Deeper. Harder. She moved into the strokes. And she moved against him. Deeper this time though. Against his fingers, and against his body. A slow, sensual slide that brought out every basic, every carnal instinct inside him.

  Ryan was sure she was close, that the strokes would take her over the edge. But Delaney obviously had something else in mind.