"Easier on me?" he asked, his tone suddenly, deceptively, quiet.
She wanted to be fair. She'd known from the beginning how Chase protected himself, how he wouldn't let himself care too much. She had no one to blame but herself for letting her heart overrule her head.
"I know the past couple of months have been hard for you, Chase. And I know you've been trying to find your way between two very different worlds. I can't even imagine what your life must have been like before," she admitted, because her only contact with it had been Gwen and in some ways, the woman intimidated the daylights out of her. "But I don't want my son being part of your experiment with domesticity, if that's what's going on here. I don't want him getting any closer to you than he already is."
For a moment, Chase said nothing. He just sat with one arm resting on the shiny white island, his hand dangling casually over the side and his eyes narrowed on her face.
"We'll overlook the part about the experiment," he said, his voice deadly calm. "But I asked you to stay because I like having you here. If there's something else going on, just say it. Don't use your son as an excuse."
"He's not an excuse. I can handle knowing you aren't always going to be there," she told him, being as reasonable and honest with him as he'd always been with her. He'd never once made a promise. Never once led her to believe they'd have anything beyond what they had at that moment. "But I'm not going to have him wondering what's wrong with him that you didn't care enough to always be there for him. That's what he'll eventually do, too. He's already looking at you as if you were his father."
"I doubt that," Chase muttered.
"Don't. An hour ago he asked if he could call you Daddy."
The request had clearly shaken her. It caught Chase just as unprepared. But, then, he hadn't been prepared for her to say she wouldn't stay, either.
If she wanted to go, he wouldn't try to stop her. She was right about how difficult things had been—until the last couple of weeks anyway. But the life he was living here wasn't the life he would return to, and he'd known from the beginning that he was going back. He'd accomplished what he'd come to do. She knew that.
"So, how do we handle this?"
The edge in his tone put caution in hers. "I'm not sure what you mean."
"I'll still be here for a month."
"If you're asking if we'll still see each other, I'm sure we will. You have an appointment at my office for an X-ray next Tuesday."
He recognized the mask of composure she wore. He'd seen it often enough when he'd been in the hospital. It was her professional shield, the one she hid behind so her feelings didn't get involved with whatever it was she had to do. She was shutting down, shutting him out. As expert as he was at the tactic himself, he had no trouble recognizing it at all.
Hating the way she'd withdrawn from him, his glance slipped to where her fingers absently rubbed the single pearl at the base of her throat.
"And Tyler?" he prodded, knowing she couldn't keep the mask on for long when it came to her son.
Her fingers stilled. Looking at him as if he simply didn't get it, she crossed her arms over her pink oxford shirt. "You know how hard it was not being able to get your father's affection," she reminded him, needing him to understand the impact he'd had on her little boy. "I won't have Tyler going through that kind of pain."
The thought that he would do something like that to a child was incomprehensible. But it jerked at his defenses anyway.
"I'm out of his life just like that?"
"You're going to be out of it anyway."
"So, what do you plan to do?" he countered, not totally sure why he was pushing. "Have a constant stream of people moving in and out of his life so he doesn't have time to get attached to anyone? Or is it yourself you're protecting?"
She spun on him, composure cracking. "You ask me to stay with you, to sleep with you, and in the next breath you tell me you're still moving on next month." She was wrong, she couldn't handle knowing there was no future for them. She couldn't be with him knowing she was about to become a thing of his past. "You don't want to be part of my life so you have absolutely no business questioning how I live it."
She hurt. The hollow spot felt as if it were ripping apart, exposing her heart to this man who refused to invest his own.
"I'm not going to do this." Turning away, she pushed her fingers through her hair, took a breath, calming herself. "I'm not going to say things I'll have to regret. I knew we'd be over eventually and now we are. Let's not make it any worse than it has to be."
She had no idea what Chase would have said. Or if he'd have said anything at all. The telephone rang, mercifully taking her attention from the blue eyes staring at her back when she turned away to snatch it up.
It was the hospital, but long before she'd concluded the call, Chase had left her in the kitchen and headed for his room.
She slept with Tyler that night. And even though there were unpainted walls and furniture piled everywhere, she and her little boy moved back home the next day.
She heard from the associate in her office who took Chase's appointment for her that Tuesday, that he was going back to Seattle and that he wanted his records transferred to his personal physician.
From Ronni, she heard that he left the following week.
The dedication of Honeygrove Memorial Hospital's new wing took place at noon on the first of September. The day was bright and clear, the air warm. The wide swath of concrete fronting the new building's main entrance was packed with local dignitaries, private citizens and members of the hospital board and staff. The press had taken up a command post near the refreshment table on the lawn and the mayor was presently waxing eloquent from a dais by the main entrance.
Over the occasional pitch and screech of the PA system, Alex heard the man speak of the debt of gratitude the community owed the Malone brothers; Ryan for his campaign to replace the embezzled Pembroke Trust funds, Tanner who kept crews working at his own expense while those funds were being raised and Chase Harrington—whom everyone now knew, thanks to the media, was a Malone, too—for raising the last of the money needed to complete the project. Because of their contributions, the new construction was being dedicated as the James and Cecilia Malone Memorial Wing, in honor of their deceased parents.
Alex stood at the back of the crowd, listening to the applause and wishing fervently that Ryan would hurry up and make his speech so she could get back to her office.
Chase was up there. Somewhere. She'd caught a glimpse of him near the dais a few minutes ago, which was why she'd moved to the back of the crowd. Knowing he was so close made it harder by the second to stay.
She'd known he'd be there. Kelly had told her he would. And she'd thought she could handle seeing him. But she'd been wrong. That brief glimpse had been enough to undo an entire month's worth of mental lectures about how the heart was just a muscle that would heal like any other torn and damaged body part. All she had to do was give it time. But it would never heal if she didn't protect the wound. Seeing him had ripped it wide open again.
She couldn't believe how she'd missed him, missed talking to him, just being with him. She'd even missed worrying about him, crazy as that sounded to her at the moment. He was still on crutches, would be for another month, but the ease of his movements when she'd seen him a few minutes ago made it apparent that he was staying on top of his therapy.
"Alex."
She knew it was physiologically impossible for her heart to slide to her throat. It just felt as if it had at the sound of that disturbingly familiar voice. It even seemed to tighten there when she felt his hand touch her elbow.
Willing composure into place, she turned around.
Eyes as blue as sapphires locked on hers. In the instant before she realized the bruises were gone, she saw hesitation wash his beautifully molded features.
She was sure she was the only one who saw that less-than-totally-confident trait. Even on crutches, his aura of wealth and power was unmistakable. H
is dark hair was meticulously cut, his navy suit impeccably tailored. Neat little tabs held his sharply creased slacks closed over the fixation device. His tie was silk. The tack, gold.
Before she could say a word, his glance cut to the people on either side of them.
"Can we go someplace else?"
His voice was low, but the rich depth of it had the woman beside her looking up. Laying her hand over her heart, the middle-aged matron blinked and promptly elbowed her companion.
With more elbows signaling a celebrity in the midst, it wasn't going to take long before dozens of eyes would turn their way. The people knotted ahead of them were already looking from him to her, which made it a tad difficult for her to pretend he wasn't there. Two of her colleagues were openly staring.
Pushing her hands into the pockets of the lab coat she wore over a mocha-colored sheath, Alex gave him a nod. Moments later, they were moving away from the crowd and the booming public address system.
Another round of applause filled the air.
"How's your leg?" she asked because she needed to say something and, like it or not, she really wanted to know.
"It's good. My doctor said my surgeon is a genius."
Her smile felt strained. "Thank him for me."
"I will." Moving with an athletic ease that no man on crutches should possess, he glanced along the side of the new building, its glass facade a stark contrast to the main building's brick. With another group of people walking toward them, he nodded toward an unmarked doorway farther down the new structure. "It'll be quieter in there."
"Chase, I don't have time—"
"Two minutes," he said, when she hesitated. "Just give me two minutes. Okay?"
There were too many familiar faces around for her to protest without causing a scene. Figuring capitulation the better part of valor at the moment, she opened the door since it was easier for her to get it than for him, and followed him inside.
This part of the new wing still housed packing crates. The air was filled with the smells of the putty-gray paint on the long hallway's wall and the darker institutional gray carpet. Construction was finished, but not all of the building was occupied.
Chase had obviously known that. The metal door closed with a solid thunk, shutting out the outside sounds. With even their footsteps muffled as he turned to face her, Alex was very aware of the sudden, heavy silence.
He stood in front of the wall, a mountain of masculinity in designer gabardine.
"This isn't where I wanted to talk," he said before that silence could grow deadly. "I was going to phone you after this thing was over today, but I know you saw me a while ago. When you took off, I was afraid you might not take my call."
Nerves jumping, she crossed her arms. She didn't know if she'd have taken his call or not. "What did you want?"
He looked a little apprehensive, which wasn't like him at all. He also looked a little defensive, which was. She figured that was only fair, considering that she felt that way herself.
"I wanted to apologize."
She found it easier to look at his tie tack.
"For what it's worth," he said, sounding a little more tense than he liked when he realized she wasn't going to help him out, "you were probably right about what I was doing. The experimenting, I mean. I just want you to know it hadn't been conscious."
"That's supposed to make me feel better?"
She posed the question quietly, but the hurt was there, still on the surface, still too fresh.
He had the heart to wince, the furrows at the corners of his eyes deepening. "I never meant to hurt you, Alex. Or your son."
He was trying. She had to give him credit for that. Heaven knew she'd met lesser men. And since he was apologizing, the gracious thing to do would be to accept it. From a purely selfish standpoint, she figured it would be easier in the long run. Chase would undoubtedly be in Honeygrove on occasion to see his brothers and check on his building project and it was entirely possible that she would run into him now and again. The last thing she wanted was the world—or Chase—to think she hadn't gotten over him. "Just let it go. Okay? That's what I'd like to do."
"Can I convince you not to?"
"Not to what?"
His eyes held hers, probing, searching. She wasn't sure what he saw there other than the hurt she was doing a lousy job of hiding, but whatever it was seemed to give him the encouragement he needed. "Not to let it go."
There was a hint of uncertainty in Chase's deep voice, and something that sounded a little too much like a plea.
"Don't do this," she whispered. It had always been too easy for him to push her away, only to pull her back again. Too easy. And too unfair. "I can't—"
"Don't say that." He snagged her by the shoulder as she stepped back, needing to stop her, needing to touch. "I don't want to lose you, Alex.
"Please," he said, wondering at how still she'd gone. "Just listen to me. Okay?"
There was caution in her nod, and a look in her eyes that bore an unsettling resemblance to disbelief, but at least she wasn't bolting. She wasn't pulling back from him, either. Encouraged by that, desperately needing to believe some of what she'd once felt for him remained, he leaned against the wall, tugging her with him.
With one hand on her shoulder, he curved his other at the side of her neck. "I've had a lot of time to think," he told her, praying he'd find the right words. He'd wanted to take her someplace romantic, someplace where the atmosphere would aide his cause. The way she'd turned from him a while ago, he feared this was the only chance he'd get.
"You know how messed up the last several months have been," he began, because she, more than anyone, had understood what he'd struggled with. "I'd always known something was missing in my life, but I thought I'd figured out what it was when I found my brothers. They're part of it, Alex. But I didn't really understand what was missing until you showed me."
He brushed his thumb along her jaw, relieved by how she allowed the touch, amazed by how, sometimes, just touching her could calm him.
"I've always had money," he said, his tone matter-of-fact. "And people are constantly after me for whatever they can get. But you taught me how good it feels to give. Not money. But time." His thumb stilled. "No one ever needed me just to be there for them before."
It was the intangibles that had mattered. Watching Tyler for her. Rubbing her back. Helping her out when he could. It was the time he'd spent with the little boy he sorely missed, the feeling of accomplishment when the child had finally grasped the concept of adding two numbers. It was helping with Brent and feeding the cat and being able to turn to her for help with all the emotional chaos he'd dealt with.
They'd worked together. They'd shared. They'd been there for each other.
"There's something else you taught me," he told her, needing her to understand just how hard his life would be without her. "I'd finally learned how to relax, but only when I was reading to Tyler or answering those mind-boggling questions of his." The skin beneath his fingers felt warm and as soft as silk. "Or touching you.
"I've spent years going after things I wanted. I just never knew what I needed. I do now. I need you," he said, his certainty a sharp contrast to the subtle tension filling him. "I just need to know what you want."
Alex swallowed, tried to speak. All she could do was stare at Chase and shake her head in disbelief. Knowing him as she did, she didn't doubt a word he said. It was too hard for him to open up, too hard for him to make himself vulnerable. But it seemed he'd just pushed all his cards to her side of the table. She just didn't know what she was supposed to do with them. "What I want?"
"From me. You never told me." She'd been afraid to. She'd been afraid to open the dreams that wide.
"Whatever you want," he said, his voice husky and low as he cupped her face. "Whatever I have. Just ask, Alex, and it's yours.
"What?" he asked, watching the suspicious brightness shimmer in her eyes.
She shook her head as she touched her hand to his ch
est and felt the strong heavy beat beneath the crisp white cotton.
"This is all I want."
He glanced down to where the tips of her fingers rested against his heart. When he looked back to her, realization had washed the tension from his face.
He turned to prop his crutches against the wall, then leaned against it again. "You've already got that," he told her, drawing her into his arms. "What else?"
"That's all," she said, scarcely able to believe he was holding her. Minutes ago, she'd thought she would never again know the strength of his arms, the warmth of his touch. "If I have that, I have everything." Swallowing past the knot in her throat, she whispered, "I love you."
She wanted him. Just him. Not because of who he was or what he possessed but because she loved him. The knowledge filled him with wonder—and made his heart feel a little too full for his chest.
"I love you, too, Alex." He touched her cheek, her hair. "That's what I'd wanted to tell you tonight. You see," he continued, slipping his hand between them to reach into the watch pocket of his pants, "there's something else I want." He picked up her hand. In his, he held a platinum band graced with a two-karat solitaire. "I want us to live here and be a real family," he explained, slipping the ring onto her finger. "I want you to be my wife and I want Tyler to be my son. And if you ever feel the urge to be a mom again, I wouldn't mind having a daughter, too."
She edged back a little, looking from the diamond sparkling on her finger, needing to see his face. Overwhelmed, all she could do was search his eyes with her heart in hers as he threaded his fingers through her hair.
She didn't know if she rose to meet his lips or if he lowered his head to meet hers. It didn't matter. There was need in his kiss, and possession and protectiveness and a heady jolt of pure, unadulterated desire. Alex felt them all as he molded her body to his, holding her as if he'd never let her go. She kissed him back with that same heat, letting him know she needed him as badly as he needed her.
DR. MOM AND THE MILLIONAIRE Page 21
