Lilian Darcy – Daddy on Her Doorstep (страница 2)
“But, no, I’ll never get July,” she said. “New rotations start. I have a shot at August. Just a week …” She was talking to herself more than to him, mentally adjusting her heavy schedule.
Like every member of the McKinley family except Andy, she was all about crammed schedules. He remembered all too well what that was like.
On the porch, a heavy-looking cardboard box was about to join the two suitcases. This time, the arch-and-rub was followed by a hard lean onto the seat of the porch swing. The swing rocked too much and the pregnant tenant … Nelson, Claudia Nelson … almost lost her balance. She grabbed the swing chain, pivoted on one foot and sat on the moving seat with a hard thump, and Andy had to fight an impulse to leap out of the pickup and rush to her aid.
Which she might not have appreciated, since she would have no idea who he was at this point. Anyhow, she’d recovered her balance now.
Recovered her balance, but not her built-in cool. She flattened her hand over her upper chest and took some breaths that looked as if they’d been learned in prenatal class and practiced diligently since. In through the nose. Out slow and steady, through rounded lips.
Shoot, she wasn’t in labor, was she? She only looked around six months or so, but as he’d already observed, she had the kind of body where it was hard to tell.
“I’d better go,” he told Scarlett. “Think about it for August or whenever, and call me back when you decide. Please.”
“I will.”
“I’ll hold off on another tenant for a while when this one moves out. Meanwhile, if you want to come up sooner, I can check out some of the bed-and-breakfasts around here. They’re pretty quiet. And I can make sure a porch swing is part of the deal.”
“Thanks, Andy. But, no, it was probably a dumb idea.” Down the line, Scarlett sighed to herself and began planning again. “I’ll wait. Even August, with the new interns … I’ll check the calendar. Maybe October …”
Scarlett disconnected the call before Andy could tell her that October sounded too far off, given the stress and fatigue in her voice. He knew what his father, Dr. Michael James McKinley, Senior, would have said to her: “Get a good night’s sleep and pull yourself together, Scarlett. You’re a cancer specialist. You’re going to lose patients. You can’t let it get too personal.”
Speaking of personal, it was time for Andy to introduce himself to the lady with the bump. The trip to the store for some steak and potatoes to accompany salad and a beer as tonight’s meal would have to wait.
There was a man in the front yard. Claudia had been vaguely aware of him since he’d pulled to the curb thirty feet down the street to take a call on his cell, but then she’d taken her eye off him for a few moments while she caught her breath after that scary near-fall.
Now, instead of ending the call and driving away as she would have expected, he was suddenly here, coming toward her, smiling as if he knew her.
Or as if he had suspect intentions.
She had a moment of vulnerability, unfamiliar and unwanted. The baby crammed itself against her lungs, making her breath short. Her female friends—well, her one best friend, Kelly, plus her work colleagues and her hair stylist—kept telling her approvingly that she barely showed. But, oh, the baby was there, and if she didn’t show much from the outside it was only because the pregnancy was crowding out her internal organs, instead.
What did this man want? Around her own age of thirty-four, he looked strong and competent and sure of himself, dark haired, square-jawed, crooked-nosed, dressed in conservative dark pants and a pale polo shirt, with sleeve bands that stretched tight around hard biceps. His stride was long and he had an aura of casual ownership.
Of the moment.
Of the situation.
It might have been appealing in other circumstances. She liked competence and control in a man.
Right now, however, there was no traffic going by and the air had filled with an odd stillness, as if she and this stranger were the only two people anywhere near. He was kind of frowning and smiling at her at the same time. He was incredibly good-looking, with an especially nice mouth. Any woman would be bound to notice. But he was big and strong and she was no match for him physically. Especially not now.
She stood, and the swing rocked again, reminding her of how she’d almost fallen a moment ago, and then had bumped down on it painfully hard.
Scary. Unsettling.
She was used to grace and strength in her body, not this clumsiness.
She was used to being fully in control.
She wasn’t used to this instinctive gesture of curving one hand in protection across her lower stomach, while the other was pressed against her beating heart.
She wanted the baby, yes, but she wasn’t a huge fan of the actual pregnancy. It made her feel caged and vulnerable, a familiar feeling from long ago that she hated and fought or avoided whenever she could.
“Claudia?” the stranger said, still with the frown and the grin.
“Y-yes?” He’d said her
“Hi. It’s nice to meet you.” He held out his hand, showing strong, clean fingers. “I’m your landlord. Andy McKinley.”
Her landlord! Sheesh, of course he was!
Oh, shoot, she was going to cry.
This was another thing she didn’t love about the pregnancy—all the hormonal emotions sloshing around inside her. Just the switch from slight—and let’s face it, pretty irrational—fear about a stranger’s approach to relief that he had a good reason for smiling at her, knowing her name and giving off that sense of ownership, was enough to dampen her eyes and tighten her throat.
“Nice to meet you, too,” she managed, after swallowing the tears back. Fortunately, she was still wearing her driving sunglasses so he wouldn’t have seen. She took her hand away from her chest, returned his handshake and found her fingers engulfed in a warmth and strength that once again reminded her of her own new vulnerability. “I’m a little earlier than I said.”
“No problem.”
“Um, Mr. McKinley, how come you’re parked in the street, not turned into the driveway?”
“I was on my way to the store when my sister called, so I pulled over.”
“Oh, right. It … uh … threw me a little, when you came across the grass. I didn’t know who you could be.”
“Yeah, I can see how you could get the wrong idea. Sorry about that.”
“It’s fine. Just wanted to explain. I don’t normally react like a deer in the headlights when a perfectly respectable man says hello to me.”
“Good to know.” He gave another smile-and-frown, kind of crooked, and she felt she still hadn’t been fully on message.
“Oh. Dr. McKinley. Okay.”
“Let me help you get your things inside and show you around,” he said easily. “I saw you lose your balance on the swing just now. Are you okay?” He stepped closer.
“I’m fine,” she said firmly.
“Sure?”
“Quite sure.” What did he want from her? He was still studying her, frowning. If only he would look away, she might just rub her lower back again because it ached so much from the drive and the hefting of baggage. She didn’t want to rub it while he was watching, because even now that she knew who he was, she didn’t want to telegraph the vulnerability she disliked so much.
She could still hear her mother’s voice on the subject of the baby, still see her openly scathing expression.
Just as getting through a bottle or two of French chardonnay or very nice Australian shiraz every night in the privacy of her own home, while wearing expensive jewelry and glittery clothes, was nothing like being an alcoholic, in Mom’s view.
Claudia’s argument that she was thirty-four years old, she was a highly competent professional with a corner office that she’d well and truly earned, she was financially secure, she was dealing in a sensible, practical way with the fact that there seemed to be
But darn it, she just couldn’t help rubbing her back, and Andy McKinley had seen.
“I’ll just mention,” he said carefully, “that I’m a family practitioner, with a sub-specialty in ob-gyn.” He took a key ring from his pocket.