The Baby Bet: His Secret Son. Joan Elliott Pickart

get out of here.

      She was overreacting to everything due to her exhaustion. Everything, including that kiss shared with Andrew in the elevator.

      Kara slipped her hand from beneath Andrew’s and got to her feet.

      “I have to get some sleep,” she said. “I strongly suggest that you do the same.”

      “I doubt there’s a hotel room free in Ventura on New Year’s Eve,” Andrew said, looking up at her. “I hadn’t planned on staying over.” He ran his hand across his chin. “I didn’t pack a bag, don’t even have a razor.”

      Kara folded her arms beneath her breasts. “Oh? You just intended to drive into town, destroy as many MacAllister lives as you could, then leave?” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.” She looked at Andrew again. “I’m beyond rational thought. Maybe I can arrange for you to get some sleep in an empty room here in the hospital.”

      “Don’t worry about me. I’ll figure out something. I’ll see you in a few hours, Kara. Maybe you’ll have news about Robert’s condition by then.”

      “Yes, yes, perhaps I will. Good night, Andrew.”

      “Kara? Think about trusting me. Will you do that? Think about it?”

      Kara nodded jerkily, then turned and hurried away.

      Andrew watched her until she disappeared from view, then drew a weary breath as his exhaustion seemed to slam into him like a physical blow.

      He glanced around the nearly empty room and felt the chill of loneliness consume him once again.

      Chapter 4

      “No, I’m not sure how long I’ll be away,” Andrew said into the telephone receiver. “You have the number here at the hotel, so call and leave a message for me if something comes up that you can’t handle…Yes, have the foreman on each job site check in with you daily there at the office…Yeah, you’re right. You’ll get fat and lazy playing executive. Okay, Harry, I’ll talk to you later. Thanks for stepping in for me like this…See ya.”

      Andrew replaced the receiver, but didn’t remove his hand as he stared at the telephone.

      He’d begun calling hotels at dawn, using the pay telephone in the lobby of the hospital, and had finally managed to book a room. He’d left the hospital, then discovered to his surprise that a great many open-twenty-four-hours stores were ready for business despite the holiday.

      After purchasing some clothes and personal items, he’d driven to the hotel and stretched out on the bed, falling into a deep sleep before he’d even removed his shoes.

      Andrew glanced at his watch.

      One o’clock in the afternoon. He’d showered, shaved, put on fresh clothes, then called Santa Maria to give his top foreman instructions on running Malone Construction.

      Now? He was starving, should order some food from room service. But first he had to know how Robert MacAllister was doing. Should he call the hospital and pretend to be a reporter? No, they probably had a pat answer that divulged very little to the members of the press.

      Andrew’s hold on the receiver tightened, but he still left it in place.

      Kara. He needed to speak to Kara about Robert. Kara was his link, his only source of real information. Kara, who had also been front and center in the tangled and confusing dreams he’d had when he’d crashed onto the bed and slept.

      Kara MacAllister, Andrew thought. The kiss they’d shared in the elevator had been dynamite. He could vividly recall her taste, her aroma, the way her delicate body nestled so perfectly against him. He wanted her. He wanted her with a driving force, a need, the intensity of which defied description.

      Kara was a complex and intriguing woman. She was intelligent. She had spunk, a temper that rose to the surface when she was provoked and made him understand where the phrase “beautiful when angry” had come from. She was fiercely loyal to her adopted family. She loved deeply and completely.

      Loved deeply, Andrew mentally repeated, releasing his grip on the receiver and getting to his feet. Was there a special man in Kara’s life? Someone she loved deeply?

      He began to pace around the large room.

      He didn’t like that idea, not one little bit. Another man, other than him, kissing Kara? Touching her? Making love to her? No. No way. He didn’t know why, but the mere thought of another man being with Kara caused a painful knot to tighten in his gut.

      There was no man in Kara’s life, he reasoned, because if there was, he would have been at the party with her, then stayed by her side during the crisis the MacAllisters were facing. Fine. Good. Kara was not in a committed relationship.

      Andrew stopped pacing and shook his head.

      He was losing it. It was none of his damn business who Kara might or might not be involved with. And heaven knew, he sure wasn’t intent on becoming seriously entangled with her.

      But then again, facts were facts. Kara had returned that kiss in the elevator in total abandon, had melted against him, holding nothing back. She had wanted him, desired him, as much as he did her. Damn it, he knew she did.

      Yeah, okay, so she’d attempted to dismiss what had taken place between them as the product of their fatigue and stress. Well, he wasn’t buying that. This was the light of the new day she had spoken of, and he wanted Kara MacAllister every bit as much as he had last night.

      Kara, who had secrets in her past.

      Would she come to trust him enough to tell him about her life, what had happened to cause her to be alone, a foster child with no family of her own? Lord, he hoped so. Why, he didn’t know, but he wanted, needed, her to trust him, believe in him, know he would never do anything to hurt her.

      “Yeah, right,” Andrew said, sinking back onto the edge of the bed. “I’ve already hurt her by causing her uncle to have a heart attack. Sure, Malone, the lady will trust you without a second thought. Hell.”

      Andrew took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

      He was going nuts thinking about Kara. What was of utmost importance right now was the condition of Robert MacAllister. He was doing everything but stand on his head to postpone calling the hospital, because he was scared out of his shorts that Kara would tell him that Robert had not survived the massive trauma to his heart.

      “Do it, Malone,” he said, picking up the receiver and looking at the piece of paper where he’d written the telephone number of the hospital.

      A sudden vision of another hospital from years ago flashed in Andrew’s mind, and he replaced the receiver with a trembling hand.

      He was fifteen years old and had come directly from school to see his mother in the hospital where she was dying of cancer.

      He’d been six feet tall already, but hadn’t filled out, was all arms and legs and enormous feet on a skinny frame. He’d folded himself into the small chair next to his mother’s bed and held one of her hands with both of his, watching her sleep. A few minutes later she’d opened her eyes and smiled at him.

      “Hello, my darling,” Sally Malone said, her voice weak. “How was school today?”

      “Fine. Good. Okay,” Andrew said. “How are you feeling, Mom? Are you in a lot of pain?”

      “No, no, they keep me very comfortable, and have ever since I had to come here last week. I’m just very tired, Andrew. So very tired.” She paused. “Did you see your aunt Clara when you arrived?”

      “Yeah, she was going outside for a cigarette. As soon as she saw me, she hightailed it for the elevator so she could get her nicotine fix. She probably needs a drink, too. It wouldn’t surprise me if she carries a flask in her purse.”

      “Oh, Andrew,