“You slept through the night,” Kayla told him. She had spent it in the chair opposite him, watching to make sure he was all right. “Rather peacefully, I might add.” And then, because he’d mentioned a woman’s name during the night, she couldn’t resist asking, “Who’s Lily?”
That question had come at him from left field. Did this woman know his mother? It seemed unlikely, given that she was wrapped up with her animals, and the only animals her mother liked were the two-legged kind. In bed.
Alain watched Kayla’s face as he answered, “My mother. Why?” “You called out to her once during the night.” She cocked her head, curious. “You call your mother by her first name?” She’d been around six years old before she even knew her parents had other names besides Mommy and Daddy. She couldn’t imagine referring to either of them by their given names.
“No, not really.” Since he couldn’t remember if he’d even dreamed, he hadn’t a clue as to why he’d call out his mother’s name, and he didn’t know any other Lily. But he was more curious about something else. “You stayed up all night watching me sleep?” Why would she do that? he wondered, feeling oddly comforted by the act.
Kayla laughed as she shook her head. “We’re a little rural here, but I’m not that desperate for entertainment. No, I didn’t stay up all night watching you sleep. I spent part of it sleeping myself,” she assured him.
In actuality, she’d spent very little of it asleep. His breathing had been labored at one point, and she’d worried that she might have given him too much of the medication, so she’d remained awake to monitor him. But she didn’t feel there was any reason for Alain to know that.
“Nothing I wouldn’t have done for any of my other patients,” she continued nonchalantly. “Even if you don’t have fur.” And then she looked a little more serious. “How’s the head?”
Until she asked, Alain hadn’t realized that the anvil chorus was no longer practicing their latest performance inside his skull. He touched his forehead slowly as if to assure himself that it was still there.
“Headache’s gone,” he said in amazement. The way it had hurt last night, he’d been fairly certain it was going to split his head open. And now it was gone, as if it had never existed. Except for the state of his ribs, he actually felt pretty good.
Pleased, Kayla nodded. “Good.” Moving away from the coffee table, she turned toward the kitchen. “Hungry?” He was about to say no. He was never hungry first thing in the morning, requiring only pitch-black coffee until several hours after he was awake and at work. But this morning there was this unfamiliar pinch in his stomach. It probably had something to do with the fact that he hadn’t had any dinner last night, he reasoned.
He nodded slowly in response to her question. “Yes, I am.”
Kayla caught the inflection in his voice. “You sound surprised.” “I am,” he admitted. “I’m not usually hungry first thing in the morning.” He was probably always too busy to notice, she guessed. People in the city tended to spin their wheels a lot, going nowhere and making good time at it. She should know; she’d been one of those people for a while. “Country air will do that to you.”
Her comment surprised him. “So you consider this the country?”
That seemed like an odd thing for him to ask. “Don’t you?”
Alain laughed shortly. “Last night, I considered it Oz,” he admitted. “But usually ‘country’ means farmland to me.”
She supposed there was an argument for that. To her, any place that didn’t pack in a hundred people to the square yard was the country. “There used to be nothing but farms around here. We’ve still got a few.” And she loved to drive by them whenever she had the chance. Not to mention that the families on that acreage were always opened to taking in some of her dogs. “Corn and strawberries, mostly,” she added.
Ariel was shifting from foot to foot behind her, silently reminding her that she had yet to be fed. Which brought Kayla full circle. “So, what’s your pleasure?” The question caught him up short. Without fully realizing it, he’d been watching the way Kayla’s breasts rose and fell beneath the green sweater with every breath she took.
As for her question, he wasn’t about to give her the first response that came to his lips, because he doubted that the beautiful vet would see it as anything more than a come-on. And maybe it was, but he’d never meant anything more in his life. His pleasure, at the moment, involved some very intimate images of Kayla—sans the green sweater—and himself.
“Whatever you’re having,” he told her, glancing toward Winchester. The dog was still eyeing him, an unrelenting polygraph machine waiting for a slipup.
His answer satisfied Kayla. “Eggs and toast it is.” She nodded. The choice surprised him. Somehow, he’d just assumed that Kayla would be a vegetarian. Half the women he knew turned their noses up at anything that hadn’t been plucked out of the ground, pulled down from a tree or gotten off a stalk. In addition, he would have thought that the cheerful vet would have been health conscious.
He watched her face as he said, “Don’t you know eggs are bad for you?” She shook her head. “They’ve been much maligned,” Kayla countered. “The FDA says having four eggs a week is perfectly acceptable. Besides, an egg has a lot of nutrients to offer. My great-grand-father ate eggs every day of his life and he lived to be ninety-six.”
“Might have lived to be ten years older if he’d avoided eggs,” Alain deadpanned.
His quip was met with a wide grin. Something inside of him responded, lighting up, as well. “You have a sense of humor. Nice,” she said. The last word seemed to whisper along his skin, making him warmer. Since the response was something a teenager might experience, Alain hadn’t a clue as to what was going on with him. Maybe it was a reaction to whatever she’d given him last night.
The way he was looking at her, looking right into her, stirred up a whole host of things inside of Kayla. His smile alone made lightning flash in her veins. She didn’t bother squelching it, because for once, entertaining these kinds of feelings was all right. She wouldn’t act on it, and at the moment, she was willing to bet that he couldn’t. By the time he could, he would be gone.
She held off going to the kitchen to make breakfast a moment longer. “I almost forgot. I’ve got some good news.”
He immediately thought of the disabled BMW. “My car’s all right, after all?” His car. She hadn’t even looked at it since she’d pulled him free of the wreckage. It was still raining and the power was still out, which meant the phones weren’t working. There was no way to call Mick’s gas station to get someone out to look at the fancy scrap of metal.
“No, your car’s still embracing my tree,” she told him, “but your clothes are dry, so you don’t have to put on my father’s coveralls.” Her mouth curved into what her mother had once called her wicked grin as she added, “Unless you want to.”
“If I’m going to get lost inside of someone else’s clothes, I’d rather the clothes belonged to someone of the female persuasion.” Preferably with her still in it, he added silently. “No offense.”
“None taken,” she assured him.
Was it her, or was it getting warmer in here? Kayla wondered. The fire certainly hadn’t gotten more intense since she’d lit it earlier this morning. Kayla placed the clothes that she had just gotten off the line in her garage on the coffee table in front of him. “You can put them on after breakfast, if you’re up to it. How are you feeling?” she asked, suddenly realizing that she’d only asked about his headache, nothing more.
Alain quickly took stock of his parts before answering. His ribs were still aching, but not as badly as they had last night. And while there was no headache, he was acutely aware of the gash she must have sewn up on his forehead. It pulsed.
“Good enough for me to put my clothes on now,” he told her. She opened her mouth to say that maybe he should wait until after he ate before he went jumping into his clothes, but then she shut it again. The man should know what he wa
s capable of doing. She wasn’t his mother or his keeper.
“Okay.” But being distant and removed just wasn’t her way. Kayla came closer to the sofa again. “Why don’t I help you to the bathroom so you can change in private?” she suggested.
He thought that was a little like closing the barn door after the horse had run off, seeing as how she’d been the one to undress him in the first place. But he didn’t raise the point, since it might sound like a protest. He didn’t have anything against beautiful woman doing whatever they wanted with his clothes and his body. What he didn’t like was the idea of being an invalid and needing help.
“I can make it on my own,” he informed her.
If he meant to make her back off, he was in for a surprise, she thought. “How do you know?” Kayla challenged. “You haven’t been on your feet since I brought you in.” Instead of answering, he sat up and swung his legs out from under the bedclothes. He meant to stand up and show her that he was all right. Planting his feet on the floor, he pushed himself up off the sofa—and immediately felt the room spin.
Alain blinked his eyes as if that would help him clear his head. He was feeling as weak as a kitten with a cold. Exasperated, he stole a look in Kayla’s direction. “What the hell did you give me last night?” he demanded. He wouldn’t be familiar with the generic name of the drug she’d used, Kayla thought. There was no point in mentioning it. She kept it simple. “Just something to make you sleep.”
“For how many days?” He’d lost all track of time. “Twenty?”
“Do you always exaggerate?” she replied, then answered her own question. “Oh, wait, I forgot, you’re a lawyer.” This time, he thought he saw her top lip curl in a sneer. Was that her reaction to what he did for a living? Most women melted when they found out that he worked for a famous firm, equating it to wealth. “You don’t place much stock in lawyers, do you?”
The land the house was on used to be twice the size it was now. A boundary dispute had brought her family into court, and the judge had ruled against them. Her grandfather had come precariously close to losing everything he’d worked for his entire adult life. Watching his spirit being bent and then all but broken had been a horrible experience for Kayla. She thought of lawyers as only slightly higher on the food chain than scorpions.
The best ones had silver tongues, but the bottom line was the same: they were all vultures. “They live off the sweat of others.”
Alain nodded. “I’ll take that as a no.” She was surprised that he just let the matter drop like that. “Aren’t you going to try to defend your brethren? To tell me all the good that lawyers have accomplished? How the world’s a better place because of attorneys?” Alain shook his head. “I never try to pry open a closed mind. Good way to lose my fingers.” And then he grinned, creating a mini-whirlpool in her stomach. “Not to mention other, equally as precious body parts.”
He didn’t argue what he knew he couldn’t win. Intelligent as well as good-looking, she decided. “Well, I’ll give you this—you’re smarter than the average lawyer.” As she had last night, Kayla braced herself. And then she looked down at him. “Ready?”
“For what?” Certainly not her, he added silently. There was definitely more to this woman than met the eye.
Kayla nodded to her left. “The bathroom.” There seemed to be no point in arguing with her about his ability to get around. Alain dug his knuckles into the sofa on either side of his thighs and pushed himself up and off the cushion once more. Triumph was fleeting. As he straightened, he felt wobbly—again.
So much so that he swayed even though he was trying hard not to. Preoccupied with not falling flat on his face and on his dignity, he didn’t even notice that he was still wearing only the very small black briefs he’d intended strictly for Rachel’s perusal.
The next moment, he felt Kayla slip her arm through his. “Shall we?” she asked brightly. Her eyes were looking directly into his. But from the smile he saw in them, he knew that she’d allowed herself at least one long, assessing scan of his torso. He couldn’t help but wonder how he’d measured up with whoever she’d taken to her bed in earnest.
He began to walk, using what felt like someone else’s legs. A disembodied feeling hovered over him with each step he took.
“The last time someone walked me into their bathroom, we wound up showering together.”
“I don’t recommend a shower right away,” she told him. “But if you want to take one later, let me know. I’ll need to get some plastic wrap for you.”
A vision of the two of them, naked but wrapped together tightly in plastic, materialized in his mind. “Sounds kinky.” “For your bandages,” she told him, without missing a beat. God, but he was wellbuilt, she thought again. It was like propping up a rock wall. “You can’t get them wet.”
He looked down at the white gauze around his chest. “How long are they going to have to stay on?”
That depended on his healing process. “Longer than a day.” He was still taking what felt like baby steps. His knees were shaky but he wasn’t altogether sure if that was due to the accident he’d had or the proximity of his escort.
Alain decided it might be a combination of both. Like his brother Georges, he could never resist a good-looking woman, and the one next to him was leagues beyond merely good-looking. However, unlike Georges, he was completely confident that settling down was not in the cards for him. When it came to that, he was too much like their mother.
Once upon a time, he’d thought that Georges was, too, but that was before he’d had met what Philippe referred to as their brother’s “once in a lifetime woman.” Vienna was a gentle, heart-stoppingly beautiful woman who had, without trying, changed all the dynamics in Georges’s life and made him long for what he’d never had before: a steadfast relationship.
Well, for Georges’s sake, Alain hoped that existed. As for himself, he knew it would never happen. Kayla stopped walking and he realized that they must have reached the bathroom. Leaning him against the wall by the door, she slipped her arm from his and took a step back. Alain would have been amused if he wasn’t perspiring so much.
“Holler if you need me,” she instructed. It wasn’t just a throwaway line; she meant it.
Alain remained leaning against the wall. He had his suspicions that she noticed.
“I won’t need you,” he assured her. “Despite what you might think of lawyers, I am capable of dressing myself. I have been doing it since I was three.”
She smiled, inclining her head. If she took note of the line of perspiration along his brow, she gave no indication. “I’m sure you have.” She backed away, and that was when he realized that they hadn’t reached this part of the house alone. The dogs were all in the background. But Winchester, easily the runt in this eclectic litter, was right there, front and center.
The odd thing was, the dog appeared to be looking up at him rather than her.
“If you need an escort back,” she continued, “just send Winchester to get me. I’ll be in the living room, making breakfast.” “The living room?” he echoed. “Don’t you usually make it in the kitchen?” “I do,” she allowed. “When the electricity is working. But it’s not and there’s a fireplace in the living room.”
“You’re using the fireplace?” he asked incredulously. Most of the women he knew could barely turn on a stove. Roughing it meant eating at a less than five-star restaurant.
She winked just before she turned on her heel. “Think of it as camping in.”
He watched her walk away. Watched and appreciated the gentle sway of her hips with each step.
Alain roused himself with effort.
It felt like an incredibly domestic scene, he thought as he entered the bathroom. He closed the door just in time, before Winchester managed to slip in with him.
Too domestic, he decided. He never remained for breakfast when he slept with a woman. That had less to do with his rarely having breakfast than it did with the fact that he never spent the night,
no matter how long the lovemaking lasted or what hour it was finally over. Literally sleeping with someone would have opened up an entire floodgate of assumptions that had no place in his life.
The only relationships he wanted to form with the opposite sex were temporary, cursory ones. Like his mother. Lily Moreau might have been married to all three of the men who’d fathered her sons, but even those unions had dissolved for one reason or another. The other liaisons—and there had been too many to count—had all been short-lived. His mother operated by one small rule of thumb: she enjoyed her relationships, until she didn’t. And then she moved on. Before they did. Life was too short to stay in one place and wait for the inevitable pain to come.
Alain looked in the mirror. A faint, pale stubble was growing on his cheeks and chin, but otherwise, he didn’t look the worse for his experience. A noise outside the door caught his attention. He’d better get dressed before she came in to check up on him. Alain shook his head. He wasn’t too sure what to make of Kayla McKenna. She was a great deal friendlier than he thought was actually prudent, given her living situation. And he couldn’t help wondering why she was unattached. There had to be a story there.
Damn, just pulling on his trousers exhausted him. That accident had taken more out of him than he’d thought. Even so, he struggled to put on his socks and his shirt. For the time being, Alain left the suit jacket off.
After pausing to throw water into his face, he opened the door.
And nearly stepped on the dog with the cast.
Chapter 5 Moving back to avoid stepping on Winchester’s foot, Alain grasped the door to keep from falling down himself. He swallowed a string of choice words he knew Kayla wouldn’t exactly appreciate hearing.
Winchester looked up at him with adoring, liquid-brown eyes. Alain blew out a breath and shook his head, then picked his way around the animal. Winchester immediately fell into step directly behind him.
Alain glared at the four-footed shadow. “Your dog keeps following me.” Kayla was in the living room, tending to the breakfast she was making over the fire. The other dogs were patiently standing by, waiting to be fed. She smiled over her shoulder. “I noticed. I think he’s adopted you.”
[The Sons of Lily Moreau 03] - Capturing the Millionaire Page 4
