The Christmas Proposition (10 page)

Rachel wanted to weep at the bald hope in the child’s eyes. She’d already made an appointment to meet with Mickie’s social worker after the Christmas holidays to see what adopting Mickie would entail. But for now Rachel wouldn’t make promises she wasn’t sure she could keep.

“I’d love to keep you. But you deserve a mom
and
a dad.”

“But I want
you.
”

Rachel’s heart rose to her throat. The words she wanted so badly to say, the promise she longed to give, stood poised on the tip of her tongue. But what if the social worker said Rachel couldn’t adopt Mickie? No, now was not the time.

“You’ll have a family soon,” Rachel said instead. “I know you will.”

“I will have a family,” Mickie said with a determined gleam in her eyes. “And we’re going to be so happy. You just wait and see.”

D
erek leaned back on his bar stool and took a sip of beer. While Travis lived close enough to the downtown bar to walk home, he had to drive. That was why he was still on his first and only round.

Travis had been right about this place. Not only did it have an abundance of Western charm with its mahogany bar, beveled glass mirror and sawdust on the rough wood floor, but also the pizza was great, the beer cold and the women beautiful.

The young doctor appeared to be a regular here. He’d been warmly welcomed not only by Willy—the bartender and proprietor—but also by the entire waitstaff.

Derek cracked open a peanut shell. “I like it here.”

“Everyone likes Willy’s Place.” Travis added a small can of tomato juice to his beer. “Even M.K.”

“Speaking of Mary Karen, what’s up with the two of
you?” Derek didn’t like to pry into another man’s business, but there was such heat between them that Derek was surprised they didn’t self-combust when they were in the same room.

“We’re friends.” Travis shrugged, his gaze scanning the crowded bar. “We go way back.”

“Did you two ever date?”

Travis shifted on his bar stool to face Derek. “What is this? Twenty questions?”

Ah, he’d hit a nerve. “Just curious.”

“We hung out for a while when she was in college,” Travis said. “Then she met Mr. Wrong, got married, had the boys. The jerk left her right before Logan was born.”

Derek shook his head. No one seeing Mary Karen’s ready smile and cheerful nature would guess her life had been anything but perfect.

“She’s a pretty woman.” Derek took a sip of beer. “Why’d you let her get away?”

“She wanted kids.” Travis’s eyes took on a faraway look. “I didn’t.”

“You still feel that way?”

“Don’t sound so surprised. Lots of people are perfectly happy without rug rats underfoot.” Travis’s gaze narrowed. “But not you, eh, Rossi?”

Taking a sip of beer, Derek calmly held Travis’s stare.

“In fact, you want ’em with my pretty nurse.”

Derek kept the smile on his lips. He even managed a laugh. “Children with Rachel? I barely know her.”

“You’re hot for her.”

“Like you are for Mary Karen,” Derek said easily. “That doesn’t mean you want kids with her.”

Travis chuckled. “You’ve got that right. I did my time, raising my brothers and sisters. Now I steer clear of any woman with the home-and-family vibe.” His gaze shifted. “That’s why I like the Norland twins.”

The doctor gestured to two leggy blondes stepping off the karaoke stage. “All they’re looking for is fun.”

The girls, er, women, caught Travis staring and waved. He motioned and they started across the room. With tight-fitting blue jeans and stretchy sweaters that emphasized their considerable assets, the sisters were every red-blooded male’s fantasy.

Unlike Rachel’s hair, which was the color of honey, the long, straight strands hanging down the twins’ backs were silvery platinum. Their eyes were large and a startling violet blue.

The sultry scent of their perfume reached Derek even before the girls shimmied through a group of cowboys to stand so close that their “assets” pressed against his arm.

“Hey, Travis.” The blonde gazed at the young doctor through lowered lashes. “We haven’t seen you around lately.”

“Not enough hours in the day, ladies.” Travis flashed a smile and introduced the first blonde as Tiffany, and the other as Kimmie.

“We know Derek.” Tiffany exchanged a look with Kimmie and they both giggled. “He’s been in all the tabloids.”

“If you were my man, I’d never let you go.” Kimmie
leaned close and slid a hand up Derek’s leg. “And I guarantee you’d never want to let
me
go.”

Between Jenna and Heather, his first two fiancées, this had been the kind of woman Derek had sought out: beautiful, sexy and looking for one thing—a good time.

“Any man who’d let you go would have to be a fool, Kimmie.” Travis met Derek’s gaze, his eyes twinkling with humor. “I don’t
think
my friend here is a fool.”

Kimmie leaned forward and unexpectedly kissed him on the mouth. Her lips were soft and warm and the kiss was…pleasant. But that was all. Not a single spark.

“Whaddayasay, Mister Baseball Man? Your place?” Her voice was low, sultry and extremely sexy.

Derek knew he only had to smile and Kimmie would be in his bed. Call him a fool, but that was not what he wanted—or rather
who
he wanted.

The “no” had already started to form on his lips when his cell phone buzzed, indicating a new text.

“Excuse me a moment.” He pulled the phone from his pocket. “I need to get this.”

There was no reason to read the text this second, other than checking it would give him time to figure out a tactful way of turning down Kimmie.

The text was simple and to the point.

I miss u. Call me.

Derek read it three times. Blood coursed through his veins like an awakened river. Although there wasn’t a name at the end, he recognized the number, remembered clearly Rachel programming it into his phone.

He stood, gently dislodging Kimmie from his arm. “I have to leave.”

Tiffany, who’d just downed her second Jell-O shot in as many minutes, looked up in surprise. “Is someone having a baby?”

Derek stared, confused by the odd response.

Kimmie rolled her eyes but laughed good-naturedly. “You are so drunk.”

Then Tiffany began to laugh. Only hers was a loud “look at me” kind of laugh that made most of the men in the room glance her way. “Ohmigosh, I got you mixed up with Travis and his baby business.”

“You’ve had a lot to drink,” Kimmie said.

Tiffany slanted a glance at Travis. “You deliver babies. That’s what you do. Right?”

“Thanks for remembering,” Travis said with a wry smile.

“Are you sure you have to go?” Kimmie’s lips formed a perfect pout. “We were just getting acquainted.”

“It was nice meeting you both,” Derek said, his mind already calculating travel time. Regardless of the route he took, he should be at Rachel’s in twenty.

“Everything okay?” Travis asked in a low tone.

“Home and hearth call,” Derek said.

Understanding filled Travis’s eyes. “Be careful. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

But the words barely registered. Derek had already started for the door, visions of a warm welcome dancing in his head.

Derek made it to Rachel’s townhome in fifteen minutes. He told himself it didn’t make sense to be so excited about a simple text. Still, the little he knew about Rachel told him that her reaching out to him was a big deal.

He covered the distance to her front door in several long strides. By the time he reached the stoop, he’d made a decision. He wouldn’t mention the text. She said she missed him and he’d come. No need to make a big deal out of it.

Derek straightened his shoulders and lifted a hand. Before he could knock, the door flew open. But instead of Rachel, Mickie greeted him with a warm smile.

“Hey, Mick, it’s good to see you.”

“Don’t worry, I’m going to bed.” She motioned him inside. “That way you and Rachel can be alone.”

Not quite sure how to respond to that comment, Derek stepped inside. He pulled the door shut behind him, his gaze scanning the living room. Fred sat alone in front of the fire. The bloodhound thumped his tail when Derek’s gaze settled on him. “Where’s Rachel?”

“She’s just getting out of a bubble bath.”

Derek’s heart sank. When he’d gotten the text, he’d assumed she wanted to see him. But come to think of it, she’d said “Call me,” not “I need you now.” At the very least he should have called before rushing over.

He reached back for the doorknob. “I’ll stop by tomorrow. Or call.”

Mickie grabbed his coat sleeve. “Don’t even think about leaving.”

Derek raised a brow.

She flushed. “It’s just that Rachel would be so disappointed if I let you go. She
really
wants to see you. More than anything.”

Derek’s spirits rose. Perhaps he hadn’t misunderstood the tone of the text after all.

“Mickie,” Rachel’s voice came from down the hall. “Who’s there?”

“Mr. Rossi,” the little girl yelled. “He missed you as much as you missed him.”

A strangled sound came from the hall. Derek grinned.

“I’ll be right there,” Rachel called out. “Let me just pull on some clothes.”

“No need to get dressed on my account,” he said.

“She
has
to get dressed, silly goose.” Mickie rolled her eyes. “You wouldn’t want her to come out here
naked,
would you?”

“Certainly not,” Derek said when he realized she expected a response. The trouble was, he’d already begun to envision Rachel greeting him sans clothes. It was a potent image.

“Fred and I are tired. We’re going to bed,” Mickie said, then paused. “Rachel’s not tired at all.”

“Good to know.” Derek tousled her hair as she walked by. “Sleep well.”

The child lifted her eyes to his. “We’re happy you came over tonight.”

Derek smiled and shrugged off his coat. He’d just picked up the television remote when Rachel appeared in the doorway. The ends of her hair were damp. Her feet were bare. Dressed in a long-sleeved T-shirt and worn blue jeans, she looked simply delectable.

He realized he was staring when her cheeks turned a lovely rose color.

“I didn’t mean to make you hurry out of your bath.”

A smile teased the corners of her lips. “Are you
kidding? You saved me from turning into a prune. Besides, it’s good to see you.”

At that moment, Derek realized his analysis of the text had been spot-on. Whatever reservations she’d had about his being her friend had been put to bed.

“Can I get you a glass of wine?” she asked. “Or a cappuccino?”

“Cappuccino?”

She laughed. “I bought a cappuccino maker at a yard sale last summer. I confess I haven’t used it much. Actually, I haven’t used it at all.”

He loved seeing her so lighthearted. “Then we should break it in.”

Derek stood back while Rachel dug the machine out from the back of the cupboard. Once it was on the counter, she tossed him the instruction book and asked that he read it to her. When she began tamping the grounds, he murmured words of encouragement and retrieved a carton of milk from the refrigerator.

Placing the carton on the counter, he peered over her shoulder and breathed in the intoxicating scent of her. She smelled like sweet strawberries and rich coffee.

She didn’t seem to notice that he wasn’t fully focused on the process. Making a simple cup of cappuccino appeared to demand her total concentration.

“I’ve mastered the machine.” She turned, her cheeks flushed with triumph. “A few more minutes and you’ll have the best cup of cappuccino ever.”

“I don’t care about coffee.”

He took a step closer and Rachel’s breath caught in her throat. Derek stood so near that she could see the tiny flecks of gold in his blue eyes.

“Not coffee…cappuccino,” she murmured, her heart picking up speed.

His gaze dropped to her mouth. “Whatever.”

Rachel wasn’t sure what had made him stop over tonight, but she was suddenly oh so glad he’d come.

“I want to be your friend,” she confessed, stumbling over the simple words.

“I know.” His hands settled on her hips. “I missed you, too.”

Rachel’s thoughts swirled. Had she said she missed him? Out loud? The spicy scent of his cologne coupled with his nearness made it difficult to remember. But stepping back didn’t cross her mind. Standing in the warm glow of the kitchen with him felt right. She twined her fingers together behind his neck.

A tiny niggle of guilt rose up, but she shoved it aside. Like Lexi had said, lots of men and women were friends. And, according to July, sometimes those friends even…kissed.

The look in Derek’s eyes told her that was exactly what he wanted to happen. But he remained still and waited.

He’d made the first move by showing up. The next was up to her. Rachel gathered her courage and covered his mouth with hers. She didn’t linger particularly long, but it didn’t matter.

Her mouth had barely left his when Derek began scattering kisses across her face and down her neck. She arched her head back giving him full access to the sensitive expanse of her neck and shoulders.

He took full advantage.

“Ah, Derek,” she breathed his name.

His lips returned again and again to her mouth. Even though it was below freezing outside, the kitchen air turned steamy.

Rachel opened her mouth to him and he slipped his tongue inside. She was already reeling when his hand slipped under her shirt and closed over her bare breast. She gasped when he flicked his thumbnail over the tip, then pushed aside her shirt and his mouth closed over the rosy tip.

An ache of longing began from her innermost core and quickly spread throughout her body. Dear God, she’d forgotten how good a man’s touch felt.

She was praying he wouldn’t stop when a loud woof broke through her passionate fog. Rachel jerked from Derek’s arms, yanked her shirt down, then listened to the click-clack of toenails on the hardwood.

Derek shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Fred?”

Combing a shaky hand through her hair, Rachel nodded, wondering how they could go from passionate to awkward in less than sixty seconds. That had to be one for the record books.

“He sure disappeared quickly this evening,” Derek said, apparently deciding to fill the silence.

“He goes to bed early these days,” Rachel said. “Mickie wears him out.”

The dog now stood at the edge of the kitchen. Was that censure Rachel saw in his big brown eyes? Or amusement?

“Do you think he knows what was going on?” Derek asked in a melodramatic whisper.

The question was so over-the-top that Rachel chuckled
and played along. “Of course. Bloodhounds are smart dogs.”

Derek held out his hand, but Fred headed back the way he’d come. “I thought Mickie might make an appearance,” he said as the dog turned the corner toward the bedrooms. “But she must still be sleeping.”