The Baby Bet: His Secret Son. Joan Elliott Pickart

forgot what she was going to say as she was pinned in place by Andrew’s mesmerizing eyes. Her heart raced and her breathing quickened. The heat from Andrew’s hands was rushing though her, churning low and deep within her.

      Let her go, Andrew thought. Kara was steady on her feet now and he was going to take his hands off her and—

      “Ah, hell,” he said, then captured Kara’s mouth with his.

      Kara encircled Andrew’s neck with her arms as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to his heated body.

      Desire rocketed through him as he parted her lips to delve into the sweet darkness of her mouth with his tongue, seeking and finding her tongue, stroking, dueling.

      Passions soared and reason fled.

      The elevator bumped to a stop and they jerked apart as the doors swished opened.

      “Oh, dear heaven,” Kara said breathlessly, then rushed out of the elevator, vaguely aware that they were on the floor where the cafeteria was located.

      “Kara…” Andrew said, then hurried after her as the doors began to close.

      “That didn’t happen,” she said, not slowing her step. “That…did…not…happen.”

      “Oh, yes, it did,” Andrew said, drawing a much-needed breath. “It definitely did.”

      Kara glared at Andrew as they entered the cafeteria. A short time later they were seated at a small table. Kara took a sip of her orange juice, then stared into the glass as though it was the most fascinating thing she had ever seen. Andrew ignored the cup of coffee in front of him as he looked at Kara.

      “There’s something happening between us, Kara, and I want to know what it is.”

      Why? he asked himself in the next instant. What difference did it make? Why was it so important? Hell, he didn’t know.

      Kara’s head snapped up. “What happened, what it is, is the product of fatigue, worry, stress and…It didn’t mean anything, Andrew.”

      “Didn’t it?” he said, his voice low and rumbly as he looked directly into her eyes.

      She couldn’t breathe, Kara thought frantically. Andrew had stolen the very breath from her body with that kiss, and she wasn’t able to refill her lungs with air when he looked at her like that. She was going to pass out cold right into her orange juice.

      “Don’t,” she whispered. “Oh, please, Andrew, just…don’t.”

      He leaned toward her. “Don’t what? Don’t desire you? Don’t want to kiss you again? Don’t want to make love with you?”

      “Stop it,” she said, looking quickly around the room, then meeting his gaze again. “None of this is real. We’re exhausted, not thinking clearly. This has been a night of nightmares, and we’re trying to escape to somewhere we don’t have to face what has taken place.”

      “Nice speech,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “But I’m not buying it for a second. You’re turning me inside out, lady, and nothing like this has happened to me before. I want—for some reason I can’t fathom—to know what this is.”

      “You’re just full of questions that you want the answers to, aren’t you, Mr. Malone?” Kara said, lifting her chin. “You want to know what is happening between us. You want to know why I’m concerned about your lack of sleep after making it clear earlier that I’d be more than happy to strangle you with my bare hands. You want to know why you’re more of a MacAllister than I am.”

      Andrew nodded. “That covers it pretty well, I’d say. Which one of those questions would you like to address first, Dr. MacAllister?”

      Kara’s shoulders slumped. “You’re a very exasperating man, do you know that? You want. You want. You want. Do you always get what you want?”

      “If I put my mind to it, yes.” Andrew reached over and drew his thumb gently across Kara’s lips. “Do you?”

      Kara shivered from the feel of Andrew’s callused thumb caressing her lips, and she moved her head back. She was torn between the urge to smack his hand away and the desire to press it to her lips.

      “Don’t you want to know what this is that’s taking place between us?” Andrew said, wrapping both hands around his coffee cup.

      “There is nothing happening between us,” Kara said. “You’ll realize that yourself after you’ve had some rest. Just forget about what happened in that elevator, Andrew. In the light of the new day it will be clear that it meant nothing.”

      “Fair enough. We’ll discuss it in the light of the new day.”

      Kara rolled her eyes heavenward, then took another sip of juice.

      “So, why am I more of a MacAllister than you are?” Andrew said.

      “It’s very simple. I’m a MacAllister in name only. I was adopted by Mary and Ralph MacAllister. You’re Uncle Robert’s son, so you’re a MacAllister by birth, or blood—however you want to put it.”

      “Oh, I see,” Andrew said, nodding. “They adopted you when you were a baby?”

      “Well, no, I…Actually, I didn’t become a MacAllister until I was eighteen years old. Mary, Ralph, Jack and Richard invited me to become an official MacAllister when I was old enough to legally make my own decisions. I had been their foster child since I was sixteen and come to love them with my whole heart.”

      “They waited until you were a legal adult, then…Whew. That is a class act.”

      “That’s the caliber of people the MacAllisters are, Andrew. All of them. That’s your heritage, your roots. I assume that you loved your mother, Sally Malone, very much, but you’re a MacAllister, too, and you can take a great deal of pride in that.”

      “Yeah, right,” he said, dragging a hand through his hair. “After what Robert did to my mother? There isn’t a rubber stamp of excellence on these people, Kara.” He shook his head. “Let’s not get into all that now. I want to know about you.” He smiled. “Uh-oh, there I go again with I want.”

      Kara’s heart did a funny little two-step as she stared at Andrew.

      Andrew Malone smiling was more than she could handle in her exhausted state, she thought frantically. His smile softened his features, revealed straight white teeth and changed his brown eyes to liquid depths a woman could drown in. Oh, this man just didn’t quit.

      “Yes, well…” she began, then cleared her throat. “I’ve told you about me. I was Ralph and Mary MacAllister’s foster child, then adopted by them when I was eighteen. End of story.”

      “I’ll wait,” Andrew said quietly.

      “Wait for what?”

      “For you to feel comfortable enough with me—even more, to trust me enough—to share the complete story of why you were a foster child, why you didn’t have a home at sixteen. I’m not normally the most patient of men, but for you? I’ll wait.”

      Andrew covered one of Kara’s hands with one of his on the table. Heat danced along Kara’s arm, then across her breasts to finally settle low and intense in her body.

      “Because, Kara MacAllister,” Andrew said, “I know, I just somehow know, that you are most definitely worth waiting for. When you’re ready to tell me the whole story, I’ll be here. I’ll listen to every word. I just hope you’ll come to trust me that much, Kara, I truly do. I don’t know why it’s so important to me, but it is.”

      She was going to cry, Kara thought incredulously, drawing a shaky breath. Andrew’s softly spoken words were touching her in a place deep within her.

      He wasn’t pushing, wasn’t crowding her, wasn’t demanding an explanation about her past, wasn’t doing his I want routine.

      He