Unwrapped (10 page)

The words died on her lips.

The man had disappeared.

J
ac hated hospitals. They reminded her of the state home she and Bailey had lived in for a month—all sterile and squeaky-clean with hard, uncomfortable beds and bad wall art. The picture across from her bed was of huge white dandelions. Who wanted to look at weeds when they were sick? Of course she wasn't sick. Or even that badly injured. She had tried to explain this to the emergency room doctor, but he'd refused to listen and insisted she be admitted for more tests.

“I see they've got you all settled.” Gerald swept into the room, his arms loaded with snacks and magazines. He'd arrived at the hospital earlier, but since she had been on her way to get the MRI, they hadn't had a chance to talk. Not that Jac was talking to him. She was still mad at him for exposing the truth of her pregnancy to the EMT who'd then exposed it to the one man she didn't want to know.

“I bought you some KitKats,” Gerald said. “I would've gotten you M&M's, but I thought it might bring up bad memories.” When she remained mute, he meticulously organized the snacks and magazines on the hospital tray in front of her. “Okay, so I'm sorry I spilled the baby beans to the paramedic, but I was only concerned for your health. And if you remember correctly, it wasn't my idea to walk into that deathtrap of a building.”

Picking up a KitKat, Jac carefully unwrapped it and snapped off a bar. Then she took a big bite and slowly chewed as she stared at the ugly dandelion picture. With a shrug Gerald grabbed one of the magazines and sat down in the chair to wait her out. Since she'd never been good at the silent treatment, it didn't take long.

“Well, how was I supposed to know that a thermos would fall from the sky?” She took another bite of chocolate and wafer. “Which should make you and Bailey rethink the entire Mr. Darby situation. Freak accidents don't just happen.”

“They do if you're dumb enough to walk into a construction site without a hard hat.” Gerald flipped through the magazine. “But you're right, maybe it wasn't an accident. Maybe it was God's way of knocking all those wild fantasies out of your head.”

It had done the trick. Jac now realized that Patrick wasn't a misunderstood vampire with good self-control. Or a tortured Scottish warrior with talented fingers. He was just a man. A man she knew all too well. Not from one night of phenomenal sex, but from years of watching all the men her mama had dated parade through their life like ducks in a carnival target shoot. Patrick wore the same faded blue jeans and work boots. Had the same overdeveloped biceps and pecs. And had the same arrogance and overbearing attitude.

But now she understood how her mama had fallen head over heels for alpha men. The way Patrick had swept her up in his arms had fed all of Jac's romantic fantasies. No man had ever swept her up in his arms before. Bradford had caught her once when she'd tripped in her six-inch Christian Louboutins, but he had just sort of pushed her upright. Patrick had effortlessly lifted her and carried her back to his trailer like she weighed no more than any other woman.

She had to admit that she liked the way his muscled arms had felt tucked around her back and legs. The way the hard angles of his face had been shaded beneath his hard hat. And the way his hair had gleamed gold in the sunlight. It was longer than she'd remembered, the ends brushing her hands that she'd looped around his neck. Beneath the side of her breast she had felt his heartbeat, a strong, steady thump that spoke of virile health. But the romantic fantasy had ended the moment he put her down on the couch and turned mean.

“Hel-lo? Earth to Jacqueline.” Gerald pulled her away from her thoughts. “Did you hear me? When will we have the test results?”

“A couple hours.” She snapped off another candy bar. “Thank God. I'm ready to leave. And I'm not just talking about the hospital. I'm talking about Denver.” Before she could take another bite, Gerald snagged it and joined her on the bed.

“You and me both. But somehow, I don't think it's going to be that easy.” He took a bite and glanced at the door. “Patrick doesn't seem like the type who will just let you go.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” She tore open the bag of Cheetos. “If he didn't care enough to show up at the hospital, what makes you think he'll try to stop me? He's probably sitting at a local bar, downing beers with his friends and celebrating the fact that he doesn't have to pay child support.”

Gerald stared at her as if she'd gone nuts. “I hate to burst your bubble, Jac, but Patrick's not at a bar. He's in the waiting room talking on his cell phone.”

She choked on her Cheeto. It took Gerald whacking her on the back twice before she could get any words out. “In the waiting room? How long has he been there?”

“Since he spoke to the doctor and demanded more tests and a private room.”

Her stomach did a giddy flip-flop before the feeling was stifled by anger. “He has no right to order tests for me. Especially when he doesn't even know if my child is his. For all he knows, it could be yours.”

Gerald finished off the KitKat and brushed off his sweater. “I think we settled that on the ride to the hospital.”

“You let him drive you to the hospital?”

“
Let
is not the word. I didn't have much choice. Not when I happen to like my face just the way it is.” He held up a hand. “And before you start acting like a drama queen or come up with another screwball scheme, you need to know that the guy is not an idiot. After spending thirty minutes with him in morning traffic, I figured out he's smarter than most of the snobs you con into marrying you. He knows you're the woman he spent Halloween night with and he knows the baby is his.”

She sat up on the bed and pressed a hand to her forehead. “So what did he get out of you?”

“Not much. He fired out questions, and I gave vague answers. Is she pregnant? Yes. Are you married to her? No. Is she married to anyone? No. Where do you live? New York City. What does she do for a living? Nothing.”

She glanced up. “You said nothing?”

He squinted at her. “What was I supposed to say? You're an astrophysicist? A brain surgeon?”

“No. But you could've said I help cater your events.”

He shot her a sardonic look. “And we both know that would be a lie since I've only had one event in the last two months—and the pigs in a blanket you made didn't exactly go over well. If it weren't for my grandmother's trust fund, we'd both be living with Bailey the Miser in her tiny studio apartment.”

“So why do you think he's still here?”

Gerald shrugged as he picked up the bag of Cheetos. “I don't know, but I don't think we're going to get rid of him anytime soon.”

Jac hesitated for only a second before she jumped up and headed for the tiny closet next to the window.

“What are you doing?” Gerald asked.

“We're leaving.” She pulled her plastic bag of clothes off the top shelf. “Call the airport and see if you can get us an earlier flight. It shouldn't take long to grab a cab back to the hotel and get our things. You didn't tell him where we were staying, did you? Because so help me God, Geri, if you—”

“No.” A deep voice had her hands freezing on the knot of the plastic bag, “Geri didn't tell me where you're staying.” The thump of boots against tile had Jac peeking over her shoulder. Patrick stopped only a foot away, his green eyes direct and his blond hair mussed like he'd been running his fingers through it. “But I'm about to find out.” He glanced at Gerald.

Gerald held up his hands as he rose from the bed and talked to Patrick like they were old friends. “I'll give you two some privacy. But remember her condition, Patrick.” He sent her an apologetic look before slipping out the door.

When he was gone, Jac turned and faced Patrick. She should have been intimidated by his close proximity and dark look. She wasn't. After spending her childhood terrified of her mother's badass boyfriends, she'd grown a hard shell. Or maybe she'd just gotten good at hiding her fear.

She crossed her arms over her chest and tipped her chin up. “You really are a bully, aren't you? You bully all the people at your work, and I heard that you bullied all the people at the hospital, and now you think you can come in here and bully me. Well, think again, Mr. Macho Man. I've been bullied by the best, and you don't even compare.”

He took a step closer, and she had to fight the urge to take a step back. Yet instead of bullying her, he lifted a hand and gently brushed it over the bump on her forehead. “Is the baby mine?”

She wanted to lie, but for some reason—the gentleness of his touch or the uncertainty in his eyes—she told the truth. “Yes.” His hand dropped, and there was a moment where he seemed to stop breathing. Then his chest filled with air, and he slowly released it. “I realize that it's hard to believe,” she continued, “especially when you used a condom.”

He turned and walked to the window, resting his arm on the frame. “I believe you.” A few seconds ticked by. “So do you plan on keeping…it?”

She didn't know why the question made her so angry. It wasn't like she hadn't asked herself the same question when she read the results of the pregnancy test. Maybe she was just angry that he'd called the baby “it.” Like Lulu was some kind of inanimate object.

“I'm not getting an abortion, if that's what you're getting at,” she snapped.

He turned back around. “I wasn't getting at anything. I'm merely trying to get the facts.”

“The facts? By all means, let's deal with the facts.” She held up a finger. “Fact number one, I'm pregnant with your child. Number two, I want this child. Number three, you don't.” He started to say something, but she held up her hand. “Don't lie. I know your type. My mother had a thing for men in tight Fruit of the Looms and scuffed boots. You might like to take charge, but deep down, you really don't want the responsibilities that come with being a father.” She stared directly into his green eyes. “It was a foolish mistake to come here, Patrick. So let me go back to New York, and you can go back to pounding nails and guzzling beer.”

Then, before she could do something really stupid like cry, she turned on a heel and headed for the bathroom. Unfortunately the door didn't have a lock, and she had no more than removed the hospital gown, when Patrick barged in.

“What are you doing?” She hugged herself. “Get out of here.” She tried to shove him out, but he pulled her close and trapped her arms at her sides. Like Halloween night, her breasts snuggled against his chest like two kittens to their mama.

“Fact number one, I don't wear Fruit of the Loom,” he said. “I wear Jockey. Number two, I don't drink beer. I drink Scottish ale. And number three, I don't pound nails. I use a gun.” He lifted her up to her toes so her eyes were level with his. “And fact number four, you're not going back to New York…at least not yet.”

Before she could even collect her thoughts, his gaze lowered to her neck, and he lifted a hand to touch the spot right below her ear. “I see that the marks are gone.”

The teeth marks were gone. They had disappeared a day later. Of course it appeared that he'd marked her in other ways. The mere brush of his fingers caused desire to pool hot and heavy inside her, and she released that crazy sigh/moan sound. His eyes registered surprise for only a second before they sizzled with heat, and he lowered his mouth to her neck.

This time he didn't bite her. Instead he softly kissed the spot, his lips scorching her skin like a brand. They rested there for a moment as he breathed her in, then they slowly sipped a path toward her mouth. He gave her plenty of time to turn away. She didn't. Instead her fingers scraped through his hair, and she welcomed his kiss, opening her mouth to his moist heat and teasing tongue. Then things turned a little wild. He walked her back against the wall and hungrily devoured her mouth while his hips pressed into hers, causing Jac to drown in a sea of lust. It was crazy, but she really didn't care if he took her right then and there. In fact she wanted him to.

Unfortunately, a forced cough broke through her desire and she pulled back. Jac expected to see Gerald standing in the bathroom doorway. Instead it was a stranger with a friendly smile.

“And here Matthew was worried about how you'd handle things, Paddy. But it looks to me like you're handling things just fine.”

“Dammit, Rory.” Patrick stepped in front of her, shielding her nakedness. “What are you doing here?”

“Sorry to interrupt, Bro. But there's been some new developments.”

Bro
?
Jac peeked over Patrick's shoulder at the man in the suit. But it wasn't the suit that held her attention as much as his familiar green eyes. Obviously the word
bro
wasn't just street slang.

Without looking at her, Patrick issued an order. “Get dressed.” Then he stepped out and closed the door behind him. As she put on her clothes, she couldn't help but eavesdrop on the conversation going on in the other room. Even though she could only catch bits and pieces through the thick door, she heard enough to figure out that Rory was the friendly brother and Patrick the mean one. This was confirmed when she stepped out of the bathroom and found Patrick scowling and Rory all smiles.

“Rory McPherson.” He held out a hand. “I'm one of Patrick's older brothers.”

One of
?
Jac tried not to roll her eyes. It figured that a man as arrogant as Patrick would have an entire football team of siblings. It also supported the entire theory that poor people had a tendency to breed like rabbits. She should know. If her mother and grandmother hadn't had endometriosis and been forced to have hysterectomies at an early age, she'd be one of a large family.

“I'm Jacqueline Maguire,” she said. “It's nice to meet you.”