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The Baby Bet: His Secret Son
Joan Elliott Pickart
An earth-shattering explosion…a mysterious call to duty…the woman he'd never forgotten. They all beckoned rugged Clay Callaway–one of the last of the family's bachelors–home to Texas. But in his search for a saboteur, he uncovered something long ago buried–his own demons. For Pam McCall, the childhood sweetheart who marred his memories, was suddenly at very close range, taunting his emotions and creating in Clay a temptation more threatening than any danger he'd ever faced in the line of duty….


“Is he dead?”
Andrew said, his voice choked with emotion as he gripped her shoulders. “Did I kill him? Oh, God, please don’t tell me that Robert died.”
“No, no,” Kara said quickly. “Robert is holding his own. I saw you standing all alone and…”
Kara’s words trailed off as she lost her train of thought. She was suddenly aware of the incredible heat that was rushing through her from Andrew’s hands where they were still gripping her upper arms. Her breasts were heavy, achy, yearning for a soothing touch that only Andrew could provide.
Dear heaven, what was this man doing to her? She should step back, force him to remove his hands, but she was pinned in place by the mesmerizing depths of his dark brown eyes.
MacAllister eyes.
Dear Reader,
I can’t begin to tell you how much I enjoyed writing this book. It was such fun to get together with the MacAllister clan again and see how everyone is doing, how big the kids have grown and who had added new babies to the family. I hope you, too, will feel as though you’re visiting old friends.
I was delighted when my editor at Silhouette proposed bringing the MacAllisters back into all of our lives. They were very special to me when I first wrote their series years ago, and I was definitely looking forward to attending their big family reunion.
But as you will see as the story unfolds, the reunion does not go as planned. Out of the shadows of the past emerges another MacAllister, a secret son, who creates tremendous turmoil within the family.
But Andrew Malone also captures the heart of one of the MacAllisters, as well as losing his heart to her. In addition, there is a precious little baby, who is struggling to overcome a rough beginning in life and who is waiting for loving parents to take him home.
I want to take this opportunity to thank all of you for your continued loyalty and support over the years, and for the wonderful letters you’ve written to tell me that you enjoy my books. I appreciate all of you.
With warmest regards,



The Baby Bet: His Secret Son
Joan Elliott Pickart


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
In memory of
HARRY CORNELIUS, JR.
One of the good guys



Contents
Chapter 1 (#u4d1dd30a-0b69-5eb9-a7a5-12a61647b468)
Chapter 2 (#ude519ce8-a63e-57f0-b190-1f05f5306fcd)
Chapter 3 (#u1a18751a-71e6-5aaf-8848-d3b56a58664e)
Chapter 4 (#ua809ef8f-387d-56c6-b180-7269edd9b2c6)
Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 1
It was New Year’s Eve and people across the country were more than ready to celebrate the special event.
In Ventura, California, it was as though Mother Nature had decided to take part in the festivities by producing an unseasonably warm and crystal-clear night, allowing the party goers to show off their finery without the distraction of bulky coats. Excitement crackled through the air.
The sky was a lush cushion of black velvet for millions of stars, which glittered like diamonds across the heavens, leaving room for only a sliver of silvery moon. Fireflies danced through the darkness edging the city like a multitude of whimsical fairies carrying magical glowing wands.
Traffic was heavy, but smiling drivers exhibited uncharacteristic patience as bumper-to-bumper vehicles crept forward on the main streets of Ventura.
But Andrew Malone was not smiling as he pressed the brake pedal of his sports vehicle yet again. The light six cars ahead of him had turned red.
He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, a deep frown knitting his dark brows. The knot of tension in his gut coiled tighter, and a stress-induced headache throbbed painfully in his temples.
He glanced at the car next to him and saw a man in a tuxedo behind the wheel. The woman in the passenger seat threw back her head, apparently laughing, revealing a dazzling smile as dangling earrings swung next to her pretty face.
Party time, Andrew thought, switching his attention back to the now-moving traffic. Everyone was out on the town for a good time, without a care in the world. Whatever troubles they might have in their day-to-day lives were forgotten, pushed into oblivion for a handful of hours.
And why not? This was New Year’s Eve, when glasses would be raised to toast farewell to the old and welcome the new. The past and the present.
Andrew narrowed his eyes as he drove forward slowly, his grip on the steering wheel tightening to the point that his knuckles were white.
His mission, his purpose, on this night was to bring the past into the present. Events that had taken place forty years before were going to be brought into the now, and the piper paid.
Things were going to be set to rights at long last, the final chapter written for a story that had begun during a summer four decades ago. Before this night was over he would collect on a debt owed to a woman who was dead and gone, unable to receive what was undeniably hers to have.
Andrew glanced quickly at the piece of paper next to him on the seat, scanning the map he’d sketched showing the directions to his destination.
Two more blocks, he thought. The supper club in the large hotel he was seeking was just ahead, and inside that building was the man he sought, the one who was going to pay for what he had done. A man who had no right to raise his glass in a toast to the future until he had acknowledged his actions of the past and the woman who had suffered immeasurable heartache because of them.
“Final chapter and verse,” Andrew said, a steely edge to his voice. “Tonight.”
After what seemed an eternity, Andrew pulled into the parking lot of the hotel and drove to the far edge, ignoring the valet attendant by the front door of the large, brightly lit structure.
He locked his vehicle, smoothed the lapels of the dark suit he wore, then ran his hand down his tie. The knot in his gut twisted painfully, and he drew a steadying breath before squaring his shoulders and striding toward the entrance to the hotel.
The noise in the ballroom was nearly deafening as a multitude of guests talked and laughed while a band played on the opposite side of the crowded dance floor.
Tables stretched along one wall, displaying a vast array of food. Tables covered in linen cloths were set up in the area between the double doors leading into the room and the dance floor.
Crystal chandeliers cast a golden glow over the people, who were dressed in their very best for this special occasion.
Kara MacAllister looked up from where she sat at one of the tables when she felt a gentle tap on her shoulder.
“Is it my turn already, Richard?” she said, smiling at the man who had gained her attention.
“Yep, little sister, you’re up. I’ve done my meet-and-greet bit at the door. According to the schedule, you’re next. I swear, I didn’t know anyone who came in during my stint.”
Kara got to her feet, her full-length, mauve-colored dress falling in soft folds over her slender figure as she rose.
“Well, that makes sense,” she said. “We each had a certain number of people we could invite to the party, so none of us could possibly know everyone.” She laughed. “We could have gotten some of those sticky-paper name tags for the guests to fill out. You know, the ones that say ‘Hi, I’m…,’ and you write your name with a magic marker.”
Richard matched her smile. “Oh, hey, that would be classy.” He flapped his hands at her. “So, go, go. Tend to the door. I’m going to get myself some of that food before it’s all gone. I’m hungry.”
“You’re always hungry,” Kara said, then looked at the woman she had been sitting next to at the table. “Mother, I don’t know how you managed to keep anything in the cupboards while Richard and Jack were growing up. They both still eat like there’s no tomorrow.”
“I was very well-known at several grocery stores,” her mother said, smiling. “But as I recall, there was a certain young lady who held her own at the dinner table when she was a teenager.”
“Gotcha, Kara,” Richard said. “That’s how I remember it, too.”
“I’m outnumbered here,” Kara said, laughing. “I’m off to do my smiling duty at the door.”
Kara wove her way through the tables, smiling and waving at those who greeted her. She stopped at the closed double doors and realized instantly that she felt like some sort of security guard.
She clasped her hands loosely in front of her and tapped one foot in time to the peppy music floating through the air above the noise of the chattering, laughing people.
Ten long minutes passed and the doors didn’t open.
Maybe everyone who had been invited had already arrived, Kara thought, glancing over the crowded room. It certainly appeared as though there were a hundred people here, which was the number that had been agreed upon.
She was beginning to feel rather silly standing there like a dressed-up soldier at the ready. Well, so be it. This meet-and-greet plan had been very important to her aunt Margaret, and everyone was being a good sport about it. She was the last one on the schedule to perform this duty, then a good time could be had by all.
Kara swayed slightly in tune to a waltz the band was playing and hummed along with the lovely music. She jerked in surprise as one of the doors opened, snapping her out of her dreamy state.
My stars, she thought, as a frisson of heat rushed through her. What an incredibly handsome man had just walked into the ballroom.
Whose guest was he?
He was the epitome of the clichéd tall, dark and devastating. Wide shoulders, broad chest, long muscular legs, and rough-hewn features.
His hair was black and thick and fell just over the edge of his collar in the back. His skin was tanned by the sun, not by a booth in a salon, as evidenced by the crinkling squint lines beside his dark-brown eyes. He was, oh, maybe thirty-seven or thirty-eight.
Gorgeous. The man was drop-dead gorgeous.
And he was so intent on his scrutiny of the people in the room that he hadn’t even noticed her standing there auditioning for the meet-and-greeter-of-the-year award. Chalk up one severe blow to her feminine ego. This would never do.
Kara cleared her throat.
The man continued his perusal of the room.
“Happy New Year,” she said brightly and fairly loudly, “and welcome to the party.”
The man’s head snapped around and he frowned as he stared at her. She extended her right hand.
“I’m Kara MacAllister,” she said, “and I’m the welcoming committee at the moment. May I ask your name and inquire as to whose guest you are?”
The man ignored Kara’s outstretched hand, and she let it drop back to her side.
“I’m here to see…” he started, then cleared his throat. “Here to see…Robert MacAllister.”
“Uncle Robert?” Kara said, smiling. “Why don’t I take you to his table? I could be wrong, but I believe you’re the last guest to arrive. I’m just standing here looking ridiculous.”
No, she was looking beautiful, Andrew thought. Absolutely lovely. Her short curly black hair framed a face of exquisite features, including a smile that made her dark eyes sparkle.
She was fairly tall but small-boned, delicate, making him very aware of how big and bulky he was compared to her. And her lips. Man, there was a whole new meaning to the phrase “kissable lips” as of that very moment. She was—
Damn it, Malone, he thought, putting a halt to his rambling thoughts. Wake up. Did you catch the lady’s name? MacAllister. She was Kara MacAllister.
She’d probably been in that group photograph he’d seen in the newspaper, but he’d zeroed in on another face, another person. The man he’d driven a hundred miles to confront.
“Where’s Robert MacAllister?” Andrew said gruffly.
Kara frowned. “You don’t exactly seem in a party mood, Mr…. I don’t believe you mentioned your name.”
“It’s Malone. Andrew Malone.”
“Well, Mr. Malone, please allow me to welcome you to the final event of the week-long MacAllister reunion,” Kara said, smiling again.
Andrew nodded absently.
“But since you were invited to this shindig by Uncle Robert, you no doubt know that we MacAllisters have been on the go since Christmas. It’s been exhausting but wonderful, with so many special memories. We wanted to share this last night of the reunion with our friends.”
Good grief, she was babbling, Kara thought, feeling a warm flush of embarrassment stain her cheeks. What on earth was the matter with her? She was actually chattering like a magpie to keep Andrew Malone standing right where he was, instead of delivering him to his host the way she should.
She didn’t do things like this. She didn’t act like a giddy girl when in the presence of a good-looking man. Well, in all fairness to herself Andrew Malone was the best-looking man, bar none, she’d ever encountered in her entire thirty years but still…She really had to get a grip.
“Would you follow me please, Mr. Malone?” Kara said, with a sweep of one arm.
Andrew nodded, then fell into step behind Kara as she made her way through the maze of tables. His glance slid along Kara’s back, and a jolt of heat slammed through him as he saw the sway of her hips and the way the soft material of her dress clung enticingly to her feminine curves.
Damn it, Malone, he fumed. She’s a MacAllister.
Kara stopped, nearly causing Andrew to bump into her. She looked up at him and smiled.
“You’re in luck,” she said. “Uncle Robert and Aunt Margaret are heading back to their table from the buffet. I guess the others seated with them must be filling their plates. There’s Uncle Robert over there. See?”
Andrew’s heart thundered and a trickle of sweat ran down his chest.
There he was, he thought. Robert MacAllister. It was hard to believe that the man was only a few feet away and coming closer with every passing second.
He was much more dynamic in person than in the newspaper picture. He looked taller, his gray hair thicker, shoulders wider, and there was no sign of a belly inching over his belt. His suit was obviously expensive, custom-tailored, and he had brown eyes and an even tan.
Yes, there he was, in living, breathing color.
Robert and Margaret MacAllister reached the table, and Robert set down his plate to assist Margaret with her chair. She settled into place and spread her napkin on her lap.
“Uncle Robert?” Kara said before he had a chance to sit down.
“Oh, hello, Kara,” he said, smiling. “Are you having a nice time this evening?”
“Delightful, thank you,” she said. “I’m the meeter and greeter of the moment, and I’ve brought one of your guests to you so you can say hello.” She glanced up at Andrew, then back at her uncle.
Robert frowned as he looked at Andrew. “My guest? I’m sorry, but Kara must have misunderstood you. I don’t believe you and I have met.”
“We haven’t,” Andrew said, his gaze riveted on Robert where he stood on the opposite side of the table.
“But you told me that…” Kara started, obviously confused.
“I said I was here to see Robert MacAllister,” Andrew said, not looking at Kara. “I didn’t say that he’d invited me.”
“You crashed this party?” Kara said, planting her hands on her hips. “Of all the nerve. Are you a reporter? Is that it?”
“No,” Andrew said, “I’m not a reporter.”
“Then what do you want?” Kara said.
“Kara,” Robert said, “I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for why Mr….”
“Malone. Andrew Malone,” Andrew said.
“Why Mr. Malone has come here,” Robert said. “Would you care to clue us in, young man?”
“I’m here,” Andrew said, a muscle jumping along his jaw, “because it’s time. In fact, it’s long overdue.” He reached into his jacket and removed a folded piece of paper, which he tossed onto the table. “That picture made up my mind for me.”
Margaret retrieved the paper and opened it. “This is the group picture of our family that was in the newspaper a few days ago.”
“I don’t understand,” Robert said, frowning. “What does that photograph have to do with your arriving here uninvited, Mr. Malone?”
“The name doesn’t ring a bell?” Andrew said. “Malone? It doesn’t mean anything to you?”
“No, it doesn’t,” Robert said thoughtfully. “Should it?”
“I suppose not,” Andrew said, a rough tone to his voice. “It didn’t mean anything then, so why should it now?”
“Look, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” Robert said. “I have no idea why you’re here, but this is a private party and—”
“For family only,” Andrew said. “I know. That’s why I’m here. You forgot to send me my invitation. The name Malone doesn’t ring a bell? Okay, try this one. Sally Malone. Sally. Does that conjure up any memories, Robert? A summer a long time ago? An innocent young girl who fell in love with you? Hey, come on, Robert, surely you remember Sally.”
The color drained from Robert’s face as he stared at Andrew.
“Sally Malone,” Robert said, hardly above a whisper. “I’d forgotten all about her.”
“No joke,” Andrew said, with a bitter sharp bark of laughter. “You forgot about her the minute she was out of your sight. But she never forgot you, Robert. That would have been really tough to do, considering her circumstances. Oh, no, she never forgot you.”
“Robert, what is going on?” Margaret said. “Who is Sally Malone?”
“My mother,” Andrew said, taking a step closer to the table. “My mother, who died when I was fifteen years old. My mother, who had your baby after you abandoned her that summer, MacAllister. Let me introduce myself again. I’m Andrew Malone. Your son.”
“What?” Kara said.
“Robert?” Margaret said, a frantic edge to her voice. “What is he saying? What does this mean?”
“My God,” Robert said, his gaze riveted on Andrew. “You’re…oh…oh…pain…I…”
Robert pressed both fists to his chest and in the next instant collapsed to the floor, knocking over his chair in the process.
It was bedlam. Margaret screamed Robert’s name and jumped to her feet as people at other tables rose and turned in the direction of the commotion. Everyone seemed to be talking at once as Margaret dropped to her knees beside her husband.
“Get out of my way,” Kara said, pushing past Andrew. “Move.”
Andrew took a step backward as people began to hurry to where Robert lay on the floor, his eyes closed. Kara knelt beside her uncle, loosened his tie and undid the top two buttons of his shirt. She looked up and quickly scanned the crowd of people.
“Give him air,” she yelled. “Ryan, I need help here with CPR. Forrest, call 911. Hurry up. We need an ambulance, paramedics. Tell them to contact Mercy Hospital where I’m on staff and tell those on duty in the emergency room to stand by for our arrival. I think Uncle Robert has had a heart attack!”
Hours later Andrew wandered aimlessly along a dimly lit hall in the hospital. He’d removed his tie, shoved it into his jacket pocket and opened three buttons on his shirt. A deep frown was on his face as he walked slowly, his hands in the pockets of his trousers.
A nightmare, he thought. He was in the middle of a nightmare he had created. He’d never be able to erase from his mind the image of Robert MacAllister crumpling to the floor.
What had followed was a blur, one scene slamming into the next in his mental vision.
The band had stopped playing. How strange that he should remember that. There had been no more pretty music floating through the air. Just shocked and panicked voices. People shouting. Margaret MacAllister crying. Kara MacAllister giving orders, telling everyone to move back, move back.
Kara was a doctor, that much was obvious. She’d assisted the paramedics when they’d arrived, told them what she wanted done. The guy who had helped her perform CPR on Robert—what was his name? Ryan. Yes, Ryan MacAllister. Someone had said that he was a cop.
Andrew dragged a restless hand through his hair and continued his trek.
Reporters had appeared in the ballroom at almost the same moment as the paramedics. Flashbulbs had gone off and questions had been asked of the people who were standing around with horrified expressions on their faces.
He’d kept backing up, backing up, until he’d reached the door, then hurried from the ballroom to the registration desk to ask directions to Mercy Hospital.
He’d managed to enter the hospital through a delivery door and had stayed out of view, not wishing to encounter any of the MacAllisters or the reporters. In the confusion he’d gone unnoticed, but had heard the grim bulletin that had been given to the press corps.
Robert MacAllister had suffered a severe heart attack and was being transferred to the cardiac intensive care unit.
His condition was critical.
“My God,” Andrew said aloud, his voice ragged with emotion, “what have I done?” He stopped in his tracks and swept his hands down his face.
He’d never intended to harm Robert. He’d only wanted what was rightfully due Sally Malone. He’d gone to the restaurant to confront Robert with his existence, to force the man to acknowledge that Sally had mattered, had been important.
That long-ago summer affair had taken place, and Robert would no longer be allowed to deny it, or the existence of the special and innocent young girl who had had her heart broken and her dreams shattered.
But he hadn’t achieved his goal, Andrew thought, shaking his head. Instead? Robert MacAllister lay near death a floor above this one, while his family was gathered in a waiting area, clinging to one another, seeking solace from one another, waiting to hear whether Robert MacAllister would live or die.
And if he died, it would be Andrew Malone’s fault. Robert’s own son would be guilty of killing him.
Andrew closed his eyes for a moment and drew a shuddering breath.
He felt as though he was being crushed with the weight of his guilt, with the truth of what he had caused to happen. What kind of man was he? How had it come to this?
Confronting Robert MacAllister had seemed so right, a way of getting Sally Malone the recognition she deserved after all these years. But his mother would be appalled if she knew what he had done to Robert. She would be ashamed of the actions of her son.
Andrew opened his eyes again and stared down at the floor.
His life was completely out of control. During the past few months he’d felt strange, edgy, as though something was missing from his life, but not having a clue about what it was.
He kept telling himself he had everything he wanted and needed: a hefty bank account, classy apartment, an endless string of women who asked nothing more of him than he was prepared to give. His business was thriving and he knew he was respected, known as a man of integrity.
Despite everything there was a void, an emptiness within him that was chilling. And no, damn it, he wasn’t falling prey to some midlife crisis because he was approaching his fortieth birthday. He didn’t know what was wrong, what was plaguing him, but it would pass. He hoped.
And now? On top of his inner turmoil he had just created a hefty serving of guilt to heap on the pile.
“Malone,” he said with a disgusted shake of his head, “you’re a real piece of work.”
Andrew started to walk slowly, turned a corner in the corridor, then was stopped in his tracks by a good-size wall that had glass installed from the ceiling halfway down to the floor.
The room beyond the glass was dimly lit, and Andrew stepped closer, his eyes widening as he peered into it.
Babies. A whole slew of tiny babies. As he’d traveled from one floor to the next in the hospital, using the stairs, he’d apparently ended up in the maternity wing.
What irony, he thought dryly. Here before him was life in its purest and most innocent form. And staring at these little miracles was a man who might very well have caused the death of his own father.
Andrew started to turn to leave the area when a sudden movement beyond the glass near the rear of the nursery caught his attention.
There in the shadows he could see…yes, she was definitely there. It was a woman in a rocking chair, holding a baby in her arms and feeding it a bottle. He couldn’t see her face because from the shoulders up she was cast in shadow.
She wasn’t a nurse. He could see the hospital gown she wore, but beneath it was a long dress that came to the tops of her high-heeled shoes.
Oh, man, Andrew thought, look at that. She was a mother, who had been out celebrating on New Year’s Eve, then had come to the hospital to feed her baby before going home. She was bringing in the new year with her child, who apparently hadn’t been able to be released from the hospital with its mother.
She was rocking slowly back and forth in the chair, holding that tiny infant tightly in her arms, safe from harm, as she fed it.
Andrew was unable to tear his gaze from the scene before him.
Mother and child. So beautiful together. So real, and honest, and perfect.
A foreign warmth suffused him as he stood watching the woman and child. With the strange warmth came a sense of fulfillment, of completeness, a startling realization that he had finally discovered what was missing in his life.
A wife. A soul mate. A partner. And a baby created with that woman, who would have vowed to stay by his side until death parted them.
That was what he wanted, needed, and he hadn’t even known it.
He was tired of being a solitary man who came home to an empty apartment each night, having no one to talk to, to share with, to sleep close to in his big bed.
He wanted for his own what he was seeing beyond this nursery window.
But as the realization of his wants, his needs, really hit home, the warmth within Andrew was shoved roughly aside by a bone-deep chill.
He splayed one hand on the nursery window, feeling the hard surface, the wall that stood between him and what was within.
And the same was true of his heart. While still a teenager, he’d vowed that he would never love, never render himself vulnerable, be at the mercy of another who had the power to shatter his hopes and dreams. He would not be a victim of love as his mother had been.
If a woman he was dating began to make overtures about a permanent relationship or declared her love for him, as had happened on several occasions in the past, he ended things quickly, in a state of near panic as he registered a sense of being smothered, caught in a web he might not be able to escape.
The wall around his heart was as solid as the glass separating him from the babies, from the mother and child he could see in the shadows.
And he had no intention of lowering that wall. Not ever.
Andrew stiffened as the woman inside the nursery rose from the chair and disappeared into a deeper shadow beyond his view.
He should leave, he supposed. He had no business standing here in the middle of the night—he might frighten that mother when she came out of the nursery. But he just wanted to see her for a second, mentally thank her for revealing to him the truth about himself that he hadn’t known, the inner yearning he would now be aware of and be on even greater guard against. He would do that in his mind while he bid her a happy New Year.
He heard a door open, then close, then the click of high-heeled shoes on the tile floor. He turned in the direction the sound was coming from along the side of the nursery, prepared to greet the mother from the shadows.
Andrew’s heart thundered as Kara MacAllister came around the corner.

Chapter 2
Kara stopped so suddenly when she saw Andrew Malone standing before her that she teetered slightly, then steadied herself. She narrowed her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself.
“What are you doing here?” she said.
“I’m not following you, if that’s what is going through your mind,” Andrew said, frowning. “I was restless and went for a walk, that’s all.”
“I don’t mean here,” Kara said, flinging one hand in the direction of the nursery window. “I’m referring to your being in this hospital. How dare you come here after what you did?”
“It’s because of what I did that I’m here,” Andrew said, his voice rising. “I need to know that Robert MacAllister is going to be all right.”
“Your needs, Mr. Malone, are very low on my priority list. I want you to leave, and as you’re exiting the premises, keep your voice down if you speak to anyone. This is a hospital, you know.”
“You may be on staff at this hospital, Dr. MacAllister,” Andrew said, “but you don’t own it. You don’t have the authority to toss me out. I have every intention of staying put until Robert…” His voice trailed off.
“Until Robert what?” Kara said, shifting her hands to her hips. “Either dies or it’s determined by his doctors that he’ll live? Will that take care of your unfinished business so you can be on your way?”
“Look, I—”
“Oh, do tell me, Mr. Malone, because the suspense is more than I can bear. Which way are you voting? Do you want Uncle Robert to live? Or die? Which of those will meet your ever-so-important needs?”
“That’s enough,” Andrew said, his jaw tightening. “I never intended for anything like this to happen. How could I have known it would? I just wanted…” He shook his head. “Never mind. I’m not even going to attempt to explain it to you in the frame of mind you’re in. You hate me. That’s coming across loud and clear.”
“Hating you would take more of my emotional energy than you’re worth,” Kara said. “But I truly despise you. How could you have done such a horrible thing? It was a family celebration and…My God, Andrew Malone, you’re more of a MacAllister than I am, and you came to that party and…” She stopped speaking as her throat closed from the ache of unshed tears.
“What do you mean I’m more of a MacAllister than you are?” Andrew said.
Kara waved a hand in the air, dismissing Andrew’s question.
“I owe the MacAllisters my life,” she said. “But you’d better think about this, Malone. If what you claim is true about what happened between Robert and your mother all those years ago, you owe your life to a MacAllister, too.
“If it wasn’t for that summer you made reference to at the restaurant, you wouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t even exist. As far as I’m concerned, that would be preferable to the person you are.”
“I—”
Tears brimmed Kara’s eyes. “I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to be anywhere near you after what you did to my uncle Robert tonight. You are the most despicable man I have ever had the misfortune to meet.”
As tears spilled onto Kara’s cheeks, she spun around and hurried away.
“You’re right,” Andrew said quietly as Kara disappeared from view. “Despicable? Ah, beautiful Kara, I can come up with a lot worse than that to describe me and what I did at that party.”
Andrew sighed and shook his head. He looked at the nursery window again, attempting to recapture the fleeting sense of peace he’d had, the inner warmth and completeness, but it remained beyond his emotional reach.
He started slowly down the hallway, suddenly aware of how exhausted he was, how totally drained. Entering a waiting room that beckoned with the glow of a small lamp, he slouched into a chair, rested his head on the back and stared up at the ceiling.
If only…he thought. No, forget it. There was no purpose to be served by starting an “if only” list. But damn it, if only Clara, his drunk and bitter aunt Clara, hadn’t shown up at his door with that newspaper in her hand.
He’d been sweaty, dirty and tired to the bone when Clara had arrived that night. He’d spent the day working with his men, instead of doing the suit-and-tie portion of his business, which was more the norm.
He hadn’t slept well the previous night, had once again been plagued by the sense of restlessness, emptiness, of knowing something was missing from his life but not having a clue about what it was. A day of hard labor, he decided, would give him an opportunity to blank his mind and push his body to the maximum.
He was standing in his living room with visions of a long hot shower in his head when the intercom by the door had buzzed. He strode across the room and pushed the button with more force than was necessary.
“Yes, Roger?” he said.
“Ms. Malone is here to see you, Mr. Malone.”
Ah, hell, it was Clara, Andrew remembered thinking, as his mind continued to travel back in time to that fateful night.
If Clara was using the name Ms. Malone again, it meant that her most recent divorce must be final. How many broken marriages did that make? Three? Four? Hell, he didn’t know and really didn’t give a rip.
“Tell her that I’m sorry, but I’m busy, Roger,” Andrew said.
“Yes, well…um…she’s rather…um…insistent, sir,” Roger said. “She says it’s imperative that she speak to you and won’t leave until she does, sir.”
Clara was drunk and giving Roger a hard time, Andrew thought. Damn it.
“All right,” he said with a weary and disgusted sigh. “Send her up.”
“Oh, thank you, sir,” Roger said. “Thank you very much.”
Andrew mentally tracked Clara’s unsteady trek across the large lobby of the building and into the elevator. He ticked off the floors in his mind, and when he determined that Clara was now in the hallway leading to his apartment, he opened the door with every intention of not allowing her to enter his home.
Clara appeared before him and he frowned as the sickening odor of liquor reached him, along with a heavy dose of perfume.
Clara’s bleached-blond hair was perfectly coiffured, her peach-colored suit and the jewelry she wore obviously expensive, but the class act stopped right there.
Her makeup was artfully applied, but even so wasn’t able to cover the damage caused by years of excessive drinking. She had once been a beautiful woman, but now looked haggard and much older than she actually was.
“What do you want, Clara?” Andrew said, filling the open doorway.
“Is that any way to speak to your sweet auntie?” Clara said, her speech slurred slightly. “Aren’t you going to invite me in, darling?”
“No, I’m not,” Andrew said, keeping a tight rein on his rising temper. “I’ve been on the job all day and I’m headed for the shower. I’m tired and dirty, and I don’t have time to play games with you, Clara.”
“I’m not here to play games,” she said, her voice rising as she poked his chest with one manicured fingernail. “I have something to show you, and I definitely have an important announcement to make.”
“Like what? You’re getting married again? Fine. Have a nice life. Goodbye, Clara.”
“Damn you, Andrew, listen to me!” Clara shrieked. “The time has come. I’ve kept Sally’s secret all these years, but I don’t intend to be silent one second longer.” She waved a folded newspaper in the air. “This is the final insult, by God, the last slap in the face that he’s going to get away with.”
“What are you raving about?” Andrew said, frowning deeply.
“Your father! I was down in Ventura at a spa and…Damn him. Look at this newspaper, Andrew. See what your oh-so-important and filthy-rich father has that you don’t. A family! A huge, warm and loving family surrounding him. But you and I are alone.”
A sob caught in Clara’s throat.
“We’re so alone,” she went on. “So alone. It’s not fair. It’s not. He walked out on your mother when she discovered she was pregnant with his child, with you, and it’s time he paid his dues to you. And to me. No, to you, to you.”
Clara flung the newspaper to the floor of the carpeted hallway, and it opened as it landed. She pushed past Andrew and went into the apartment, weeping as she staggered forward.
Andrew stood still, hardly breathing, his heart pounding so wildly it was actually painful as it echoed in his ears. He stared at the newspaper and saw the full-color picture of a large group of people.
As though watching himself from a far distance, he saw his body bend, his shaking hands reach out and grasp the newspaper, then he straightened, his gaze riveted on the photograph.
Don’t do it, Malone, his mind hammered. Don’t read the caption. Don’t find out your father’s name. Think about your mother’s wishes. Sally didn’t want you to know. She had always said that it would serve no purpose. Damn it, Malone, don’t do it.
Andrew drew a shuddering breath, then folded the newspaper, blocking the photograph from view.
“He should rot in hell!” Clara yelled, then sobbed. “He doesn’t deserve to have what he does. He owes you, Andrew. It’s time for Robert MacAllister to pay up.”
Andrew jerked as though he’d been struck.
Robert MacAllister.
His father’s name was Robert MacAllister.
Robert…MacAllister…
Andrew forced himself to move, to step back, to shut the door, then to walk into the living room. He had to tell himself to put one foot in front of the other, to inhale, then exhale for each breath he took.
He opened the newspaper again, then gripped the edges so tightly they crumpled in his hands. Then slowly, so slowly, he lowered his gaze to read the caption beneath the photograph, to put the name with the proper face among the multitude of people in the picture.
And there he was.
Robert MacAllister.
His father.
The man who had broken the heart of a young and innocent girl so many years before. The man who had abandoned her when she needed him so desperately. The man who had shattered the hopes and dreams of Sally Malone.
Clara was slouched in one of the chairs, her head rocking back and forth.
“Not fair,” she said, her eyes beginning to close. “All those children. Big family. Loving him, jumping at his command, thinking he’s so wonderful. The mighty and powerful Robert of MacAllister Architects, Incorporated. So many people loving him. Not fair. I’m all alone…all alone…always alone.
“No, no, no, this isn’t about me. I’m finally telling you who he is for you. You, Andrew. Make him pay for what he did to you and Sally. Make…him…pay…for…” Clara’s head dropped forward and she fell asleep, her legs sprawled in an unlady-like fashion.
A bark of laughter escaped Andrew’s lips, a rough, bitter-edged sound.
MacAllister Architects, Incorporated? he thought incredulously. He’d built more than one project following plans drawn by them for the contracting out-fit. MacAllister Architects was a top-of-the-line company, highly respected and sought after.
Just as Malone Construction was.
Hey, hey, what a team they were. MacAllister Architects drew up the plans, and Malone Construction built the dynamite structure with perfection.
Oh, hell, yes, what a dynamic duo they were. Two pieces of a puzzle coming together, each with their hard-earned expertise.
The father. The son.
The son of Sally Malone, who had been swept off her feet by a young Robert MacAllister, given him her heart and her innocence, then was abandoned as though she never existed when she discovered she was carrying his child.
Andrew crushed the newspaper into a jagged ball and threw it across the room.
Well, he fumed, Sally Malone had existed, had mattered, had been a warm, loving, wonderful human being, the best mother any child could ask for.
He wanted nothing from Robert MacAllister for himself. Not a damn thing.
But for his mother?
Robert was going to stand before that large family, who no doubt worshiped the ground he walked on, and tell them what he’d done so many years before.
Robert was going to acknowledge that Sally had been a living, breathing person, who had deserved far better than what MacAllister had done to her.
Robert was going to be made to own up to what he had done forty years ago and admit that he had been wrong, a heartless uncaring slug, who had walked away from the responsibilities resulting from his reckless actions.
Robert MacAllister was going to reveal his feet of clay to the entire MacAllister family.
“Clara,” Andrew said gruffly, “wake up. Wake up, damn it.”
Clara’s head snapped upward and she opened her eyes. She blinked several times, straightened in the chair, then smoothed the skirt of her suit.
“I wasn’t sleeping,” she said. “I was just resting my eyes, giving you a chance to come to grips with what you’ve just learned.”
“Yeah, right,” Andrew said. “I hope you came here in a taxi, that you weren’t driving your car.”
“Yes, as a matter of fact,” Clara said, holding one hand out before her and examining her nails, “I didn’t feel like dealing with traffic, so I called a limo service. I don’t use smelly taxis. I prefer a private company. My driver is waiting across the street.”
“Fine, then go home.”
Clara looked up at her nephew. “Not until you tell me what you plan to do about Robert MacAllister. I broke my promise, my vow of silence, that I made to my poor dear sister. I did it on your behalf, Andrew. I put your needs before my own guilt for revealing the identity of your father.
“The least you can do is inform me what steps you plan to take to obtain what is due you from Robert MacAllister.”
“Your mind is so twisted by booze, Clara,” Andrew said, shaking his head. “Didn’t you hear what you were saying when you were off on your tangent? You’ve got some sick idea that if MacAllister acknowledges me as his son, then you’ll be welcomed into the MacAllister fold.
“You won’t be alone anymore. That’s it, isn’t it? You’re scared to death of being old and alone, with no one to love you. You brought that newspaper over here tonight for your own selfish reasons, Clara, for what you hoped to gain for yourself.”
Clara got to her feet, swaying unsteadily for a moment.
“How dare you speak to me like that? Who took you in when Sally died and you were fifteen years old? Who put a roof over your head? Fed you when you ate more than three grown men at every meal?
“You would have been in foster care if it hadn’t been for me, Andrew Malone. You owe me. Are you listening? You owe me.
“MacAllister won’t be able to deny that you’re his son. When you become a member of that enormous family, you will take me with you. Do you understand? Do you?”
“I don’t want anything to do with MacAllister’s family!” Andrew yelled. “There’s only one thing I intend to get from that man. One thing.”
“What is it?”
“It’s none of your business, Clara.”
“Money? No, that doesn’t make sense. You have tons of money. His name? Yes, of course. You want to be recognized as a MacAllister, reap the rewards of his power, his status in society.”
“Oh, Clara, give it a rest,” Andrew said wearily. “You just don’t get it. I’m Sally Malone’s son and I’m very proud to be able to say that. I’m a Malone, will always be a Malone. What I want from MacAllister is for my mother and…Ah, hell, forget it.”
“Your mother is dead!” Clara hollered. “What can MacAllister possibly do for her now? You’ve got to think of yourself, and think of me. Look at that photograph again, Andrew. We deserve to be included in that group. We’re part of that family, don’t you see?”
“Clara, please, just go,” Andrew said quietly. “I need to be alone. I have to think about all of this. Go home. Get some rest, something to eat. Don’t drink any more tonight, either.”
“Yes, of course, you need to think,” Clara said, nodding. “Yes, yes, you do that. You’ll sort it all through and realize that I’m right. The time has come for us…for you to take your well-deserved place among the MacAllisters. I know you’ll do the proper thing, Andrew.”
“Oh, yes,” he said, a steely edge to his voice, “I fully intend to do the proper thing, exactly what needs to be done.”
“Good, that’s good,” Clara said, starting toward the door. “Plan it all out with that detail-oriented mind of yours. I’ll speak with you soon and you can tell me what you are going to do. We’re in this together, Andrew. Don’t forget that. Don’t forget me. We’re a team, have been ever since my dear little sister died. Don’t forget me, Andrew.”
Clara left the apartment and a heavy silence fell over the large expanse. Andrew drew a breath that seemed to come from the very depths of his soul, then he crossed the room and picked up the wadded newspaper from the floor.
Sinking onto the sofa, he spread the paper out on the coffee table, smoothing it with his hands.
He stared at the tall, smiling gray-haired man in the center of the color photograph, saw his arm around the shoulders of the attractive older woman who was tucked close to his side.
Andrew shifted his gaze and read the entire article that told of the many accomplishments of the MacAllisters, the honors they’d received over the years.
“‘This marvelous family,’” he read aloud, “‘includes the senior MacAllister brothers, Ralph and Robert, who are now retired, and two generations, beginning with the eldest son, Michael, who is thirty-eight and a member of MacAllister Architects, Incorporated.’”
Andrew had leaned back and rested his head on the top of the sofa, staring at the ceiling.
“Oh, guess again, Daddy dearest,” he’d said, his voice raspy with emotion. “Your eldest son isn’t Michael. Your firstborn son is going to be forty in the spring and is the child you conceived with Sally Malone.
“I’ll hear you say her name, MacAllister. You will acknowledge that she lived, that she loved you, that she mattered.
“And then? Then I never want to see you again. Never.”
A noise in the corridor of the hospital jerked Andrew back to the present and he lunged to his feet. He began to pace the waiting room, while he attempted to push the memories of that fateful evening in his apartment from his mind.
If only…his mind echoed. If only Clara hadn’t brought him that newspaper. If only he hadn’t allowed himself to examine the caption beneath the photograph. If only he hadn’t driven to Ventura with his plan etched in stone, ready to be carried out.
But all those events had happened, and now Robert MacAllister hovered near death because of them.
Andrew stopped and hooked one hand on the back of his neck.
What had Kara MacAllister said? If it wasn’t for a MacAllister, then Andrew wouldn’t exist. What a strange, rather disconcerting thought. And, he had to admit, it was true.
And what had Kara meant by that other weird statement she’d made? He was more of a MacAllister than she was? That didn’t make sense. Robert MacAllister was her uncle. She was Dr. Kara MacAllister. Why would he be more of a MacAllister than she was?
Andrew spun around and strode out of the waiting room. He had every intention of getting the answer from Kara MacAllister.

Chapter 3
Margaret MacAllister sat in a chair next to Robert’s bed, her hand covering one of his. Various machines surrounded the head of the bed, humming, blinking, showing a jagged line on a green screen, all of them having wires that were attached to Robert’s inert body.
Oh, Robert, Margaret thought, her eyes once again filling with tears. He was so still, hadn’t regained consciousness since he’d collapsed at the party hours before.
Margaret glanced down at her full-length evening dress and shook her head.
It seemed like an eternity since they’d been celebrating New Year’s Eve and the final event of the MacAllister reunion. It had been such a festive party and everyone there had been having a wonderful time.
And then?
That young man, that Andrew Malone, had appeared out of nowhere and shattered her world, destroyed her serene existence. Her beloved Robert was now hanging on to life by a thread, by the power of his will to survive the devastating heart attack he’d suffered when he’d heard what Andrew Malone had to say.
Dear heaven, Margaret thought, was Andrew Malone truly Robert’s son? Who was Sally Malone in regard to Robert? And even more important, how old was Andrew?
Margaret closed her eyes, tears spilling onto her cheeks.
Oh, please, let Andrew be older than Michael. Let whatever had transpired between Robert and Sally have taken place before she and Robert were married. She couldn’t bear the thought of Robert being unfaithful to her, having an affair after they had repeated their vows to each other, before their friends and families…and God.
Margaret opened her eyes and shook her head in disgust.
How selfish she was being. She was thinking only of herself, of how brokenhearted she would be if it came to light that Robert had actually been unfaithful to her.
She didn’t know if Robert was going to live or die, and she was centered on her fears of learning the truth about him and Sally, instead of focusing on Robert, willing him to hang on, to live, to fight this catastrophe and win.
“I’m so sorry, my darling,” she whispered. “I’m behaving badly. Oh, Robert, please, don’t die. I need you, love you so much. We have so many wonderful years left to spend together, so many memories to make.”
Margaret dashed her tears away, then shifted so she could layer both of her hands on top of Robert’s hand, which lay so still on the pale-green bedspread.
“Can you hear me, Robert?” she said. “Perhaps you can. I’m here for you and always will be.” She paused. “I’m not going to dwell on what happened at the party. I’ll just wait until you wake up and explain it all to me. Yes, that’s what I’ll do.
“So! Let’s relive lovely memories, shall we? How about Christmas? Yes, that’s perfect. It seems so long ago, but it has only been a week since we were all opening gifts at Jillian and Forrest’s house. Oh, my, it was noisy, wasn’t it? The children were so excited and…well, so were the adults.”
A soft smile formed on Margaret’s lips as she continued to speak.
“Remember how the triplets were dressed alike, confusing everyone because they’re almost impossible to tell apart? Jillian and Forrest have never dressed them the same, but the girls wanted matching dresses for Christmas. I guess you’d have to be a five-and-a-half-year-old girl to understand why.
“Jessica came running over to us, remember, Robert? You played your game with her, pretending you didn’t know which triplet she was, and she was so indignant, informing you that you were the only one who had been able to tell them apart from the moment they were born and you knew she was Jessica. She wasn’t Emily or Alice, she was Jessica.
“Your brother is finally a grandpa, and Mary is a grandma, because Jack showed up with his new bride, Jennifer, and her son—their son—Joey. My goodness, we were all so surprised. Mary is thrilled and already talking about where and when to have a baby shower because Jennifer is pregnant.”
Margaret squeezed Robert’s hand gently.
“I truly believe you can hear me, because you’ve always listened to whatever I’ve said, given me your undivided attention whenever I spoke. Such a lovely gift that has been all these years. I thank you for that, Robert.”
She drew a shuddering breath.
“I’m getting gloomy again. Back to nice memories. Oh, I know, remember how Jessica told us on Christmas how Patty had a new six-month-old brother because Uncle Ted and Aunt Hannah had ‘dotted’ baby Ryan from Korea?
“You told Jessica that baby Ryan was ‘adopted,’ and she informed you that she had just told you that very thing—baby Ryan was ‘dotted.’
“Oh, we’re blessed with so many wonderful grandchildren. Andrea was such a tomboy while she was growing up, never wanted to play with her dolls. Remember? And now here she is, the mother of two sets of twins. She and John are very busy parents, aren’t they?
“I forgot to tell you that Jenny confided in me a few weeks ago that she and Michael are stopping at two children, that our namesakes, Bobby and Maggie, are it. But one never knows. Bundles from heaven sometimes have a way of showing up in our lives when we least expect them.”
Like Andrew Malone, Margaret thought suddenly, a shiver coursing through her.
No, no, she wasn’t going to dwell on Andrew, on how old he was—not now. She was concentrating totally on Robert. Her darling Robert, who was going to make it through this, would open his eyes and smile at her. He was going to be fine, just as good as new.
He had to be.
Oh, dear God, he just had to be.
“Aunt Margaret?”
Margaret jerked in surprise at the sound of a voice and a hand being placed on her shoulder. She looked up to see Kara frowning at her.
“It’s close to 2 a.m.,” Kara said. “You need to go home, get some rest, Aunt Margaret. Uncle Robert is stable. I’ll call you if there’s any change in his condition.”
“I can’t leave him, Kara,” Margaret said, fresh tears filling her eyes. “What if he woke up and I wasn’t here? No, I’m staying.”
“You’ll need your strength to get through all of this,” Kara said. “I just spoke to Michael and he said he’d drive you home. Please. Take a nap for a few hours, at least. You can shower, put on clean clothes, have something to eat, then come back to the hospital. Come on. Michael is waiting for you.”
“I wonder where Andrew Malone is right now,” Margaret said, “and how he feels about causing Robert to have a heart attack.”
“Andrew is here at the hospital,” Kara said. “I’ve spoken to him, but he’s staying away from the family. He…he appears to feel very badly about what took place when he announced that he was Robert’s son.”
“This is all so unbelievable,” Margaret said. “Think of what’s happened because of an article in a newspaper. This is a nightmare.”
“I know,” Kara said. “But in all fairness, Aunt Margaret, I believe that when tests are run, we’ll discover that Uncle Robert had a problem with his heart long before tonight. I’m not defending Andrew Malone or what he did, but—”
“I understand.” Margaret sighed as she nodded. “Several times during the past week I saw Robert rubbing his chest and asked him what was wrong. He said he was simply having indigestion from all the rich food we were eating during the reunion. We didn’t heed the warnings his body was giving us.”
“Don’t dwell on that,” Kara said. “What’s done is done, and the important thing now is to see Uncle Robert through this. He wouldn’t want you sitting here totally exhausting yourself, Aunt Margaret. You know that.”
“Yes, I know.” Margaret got to her feet, then leaned down to kiss Robert on the forehead. “I’ll be back soon, my love.” She straightened again. “All right, Kara, deliver me to my chauffeur. I’ll go home for a little while, but promise me you’ll call if—”
“Yes, yes, I will,” Kara said, placing an arm around her aunt’s shoulders.
After one last lingering look at her husband, Margaret left the intensive care unit with Kara. They walked down the quiet hallway toward the waiting room.
“I have clothes here I can change into,” Kara said. “I just haven’t taken the time to do it. I can bunk in the residents’ sleep room, and I’ll leave instructions that I’m to be notified if there’s any change in Uncle Robert’s condition.”
“It’s awfully good of you to spend the night here, Kara.”
“I love Uncle Robert. Besides, since I’m on staff here, I’m the one who’s in the best position to do it. I don’t have any patients scheduled at my office tomorrow, either. Now all we have to do is convince the guys to go home.”
“Have any of them spoken about the scene between Andrew Malone and Robert at the party before Robert collapsed?” Margaret said.
“They haven’t said anything to me about it,” Kara said. “I know they all heard the confrontation because they were close by at the time, but they might very well be putting it on an emotional back burner for now and just concentrating on Uncle Robert. I really don’t know.”
Margaret nodded.
They entered the waiting room, and Margaret swept her gaze over the tall handsome men who rose immediately to their feet.
Michael, Ryan, Forrest, John, Richard, Jack and Ted—she looked at each in turn. Even dear Ted had stayed because he considered himself a true member of their family. Such fine men they all were. She was so proud of all of them, loved them so much.
And Andrew Malone? What words would those who knew him use to describe him? Was he honest, hardworking, a man of integrity and other admirable values? If so, how could he have come to that restaurant and done what he had with a clear conscience? What had he hoped to gain? Was Andrew really Robert’s son? And, dear heaven, if he was, how old was he?
Margaret sighed and shook her head.
Stop it, she admonished herself. She kept coming back to those frightening questions. She was so selfish, so—
“Exhausted,” Michael said. “You should see yourself, Mom. You’re out on your feet. You and I are leaving right now.”
“We’re all going home,” Margaret said, lifting her chin. “Kara is staying here and will telephone if there’s any change in Robert’s condition. You all need your sleep, just as I do. We have a long way to go before this nightmare is over.”
“But—” Ryan started.
“Don’t argue with me, Ryan,” Margaret said. “I’m in no mood for it. Just do as you’re told—all of you. Pretend that you’re as young as your children and that I’m in charge.”
“She has spoken,” Forrest said.
“Indeed I have,” Margaret said.
“Hey,” Michael said, raising both hands as he frowned at the other men, “don’t look at me. Just because I’m the oldest doesn’t mean I’m willing to take her on when she gets like this.” He paused and his frown deepened. “Well, I think I’m the oldest.”
“Don’t go there, Michael,” Ryan said, narrowing his eyes. “Not now.”
“No, not tonight,” Margaret said. “The issues raised by Andrew Malone will be addressed when Robert is able to explain what we need to know.”
“Well, Mom,” Forrest said, “for what it’s worth, we figured out to a point who Malone is.”
“What do you mean?” Margaret said.
“We’ve had a lot of hours to sit here,” Forrest said. “We were talking earlier, and Michael and I thought the name Andrew Malone sounded familiar, that the guy even looked like someone we’d seen before.”
“And?” his mother said, hardly above a whisper.
“It finally hit us,” Forrest went on. “He’s Andrew Malone of Malone Construction. He’s built quite a few projects from plans we drew up. I even talked to him last year on a site. He’s from Santa Maria, but his outfit works all over the state, and he’s got a top-of-the-line reputation.”
“He’s also a nutcase,” Richard said, frowning. “He’s Uncle Robert’s son? Give me a break. He’s after something. Money, probably.”
“He doesn’t need money,” Ryan said. “Ted and I ran a check on him through our resources at the police department. Malone is well-set financially, and is squeaky clean as far as the law goes. I guess I should have told you that earlier, but we were all walking on eggs around the subject of Malone and what he accused Dad of. I don’t know what Malone wants, but I’ll find out. Oh, yeah. Guaranteed.”
“Ryan MacAllister,” Margaret said, “you are not to do your macho cop thing with Andrew Malone. This will be handled in a mature and nonviolent manner. Am I making myself clear?”
“No,” Ryan said.
“Ryan,” Margaret said, a definite warning tone to her voice.
Ryan sighed. “Yeah, okay, Mom—for now.”
“I’ll deck him for you, partner,” Ted said. “Your mom didn’t yell at me.”
“I just did, Ted Sharpe,” Margaret said, “and that goes for all of you. Michael, I’d like to go home, please. All of you go to your families and I’ll see you tomorrow…well, later today, considering the hour.”
Hugs were exchanged and the group left the waiting room.
Kara pressed fingertips to her aching temples, then walked slowly from the room with the intention of going to the locker area in the lower level of the hospital and changing out of her party dress.
After stopping at the nurses’ station and explaining that she was staying at the hospital and would have her pager turned on in case she was needed, she walked slowly down the hall, aware suddenly of how very weary she was.
As she approached the entrance to the intensive care unit, she halted. Andrew Malone had his back against the wall near the doorway. His arms were folded loosely over his chest and his eyes were closed. A dark shadow of a beard appeared on his face, and his hair was tousled slightly as though he’d been dragging a hand through it.
He looked so tired, Kara thought, and so very very alone. The MacAllister family was banded together, supporting each other, standing close as a unit to weather this storm that was threatening them.
But Andrew had no one.
She knew—oh, yes, she truly knew—how chilling that feeling was. There had been a time in her life when she’d had no one, had been frighteningly alone.
But then she’d been drawn into the warm loving embrace of the MacAllister family, had become one of them, had belonged, had been loved and made to feel special and wanted.
If what Andrew Malone claimed was true, if he was Robert’s son, then he deserved that warmth and caring, too, more than she ever had.
Kara sighed and shook her head.
She felt as though she was being pulled in two directions.
A part of her was still angry at Andrew for what he had done at that party. It was cold, and cruel, and ugly, and the ramifications were almost more than she could bear.
Yet another section of her being felt an ache in her heart for Andrew’s isolation, his aloneness.
The fact that he was still in the hospital said he was riddled with guilt about the outcome of his actions. He was standing vigil, waiting to learn what would happen to Robert, just as the entire family was.
Only, Andrew was all alone.
Kara sighed, decided that she was losing what was left of her exhausted mind, then walked forward slowly, stopping by Andrew’s side.
“Andrew?” she said softly.
He jerked away from the wall, blinked several times, then met Kara’s gaze. In the next instant he gripped her shoulders.
“Is he dead?” he said, his voice choked with emotion. “Did I kill him? Oh, God, please don’t tell me that Robert died.”
“No, no,” Kara said quickly. “Uncle Robert is holding his own. I saw you standing all alone and…”
Kara’s words trailed off as she lost her train of thought. She was suddenly aware of the incredible heat that was rushing through her from Andrew’s hands where they were still gripping her upper arms. Her breasts were heavy, achy, yearning for a soothing touch that only Andrew could provide.
Dear heaven, what was this man doing to her? She should step backward, force him to remove his hands, but she was pinned in place by the mesmerizing depths of his dark-brown eyes.
MacAllister eyes.
Oh, yes, those were MacAllister eyes. Andrew Malone was, indeed, Uncle Robert’s son. The more she looked at Andrew, the clearer the resemblance became. Andrew was a MacAllister.
“You…you should get some rest, too, Andrew,” she said, hearing the thread of breathlessness in her voice. “There’s no purpose to be served by your staying, pushing yourself beyond the point of exhaustion. Go get a few hours’ sleep.”
Take your hands off her, Malone, Andrew ordered himself, but didn’t follow his own directive. He needed to touch her, to be connected to her like this, just for another moment. She was filling him with warmth, chasing away the chill of his loneliness. But that warmth was rapidly becoming heated desire, churning and coiling low in his body.
“Kara,” he said, his voice raspy.
He wanted to nestle her close to him, to wrap his arms around her, to kiss those delectable lips of hers, then make sweet love with her for hours. Ah, man, he was going up in flames.
“Andrew, I…” Kara said. Want you to kiss me, hold me. “We’re both very tired. We’ve been through an extremely stressful ordeal and we’re not thinking clearly.”
“You’re feeling what I am, aren’t you?” he said. Andrew shook his head and let his hands drop to his sides. “We’re related, for crying out loud. What am I doing?”
“No, we’re not, but that’s beside the point,” Kara said, wrapping her hands around her elbows.
“You don’t believe me, do you? You don’t believe I’m Robert MacAllister’s son.”
“Yes, I do,” she said. “You have the MacAllister eyes. When I look at your features, I can see Uncle Robert in you. But we’re not related, because I’m not a MacAllister.”
“I don’t understand what you mean. I also don’t understand why you’re speaking to me, expressing concern for me. You made it perfectly clear that you despise me for what I did. Believe me, I’m not crazy about myself at the moment, either.”
“I do despise you for what you did at that hotel, but…oh, I don’t know. I’m so confused. I was very quick to pass judgment on you,” Kara said, “because I was so worried about Uncle Robert. I’m still upset about his condition, not knowing if he’ll make it through the critical next twenty-four hours. But I’m the last person in the world who should be censuring another person’s actions.”
“Why? What do you mean? And if you’re not a MacAllister, then who are you?”
Kara sighed. “I guess I’m not making much sense. Perhaps…perhaps we can discuss this after we’ve had some rest.”
“No, Kara, please. Can’t we talk now? Just for a few minutes at least? This place…” Andrew glanced around. “This place is getting to me. I know I don’t have the right to ask for your company but…”
“I understand,” Kara said. “A hospital can be very overwhelming when you’re in the midst of a crisis and especially…especially if you’re alone. I…yes, all right. A few minutes. Why don’t we go to the cafeteria and get a cup of coffee, or some juice? Then we both need to get some sleep.”
Andrew nodded and they walked to the elevator, each reaching out to press the button on the wall at the same time. Their fingers brushed and they pulled their hands back quickly, feeling as though they’d been singed by an incredible heat.
When the doors opened, Kara waved Andrew into the elevator ahead of her, wanting to see where he would choose to stand so she could keep as much distance between them as possible.
Andrew entered the elevator and turned to face Kara. As she stepped forward her heel caught in the grating and she stumbled, gasping as she felt herself falling. With a natural instinct Andrew gripped Kara’s shoulders to steady her, his elbow hitting the panel of buttons. The doors closed and the elevator began to move, but Andrew did not release his hold on Kara.
“Thank you,” she said, looking up at him. “I…”
Kara 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 was simply waiting—waiting for her to trust him because…because she was worth waiting for. Oh, good grief, she was going to start blubbering like a baby if she didn’t 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, don’t be so hard on Clara. She’s a very unhappy person. She’s never known the joy, the wonder, of what you and I have together.”
“No one forces her to drink too much or to hook up with one loser after another. She makes her own misery, Mom. I don’t feel sorry for her. She’s loaded with money from when that guy she married died and left her everything, but she just hangs around her fancy house drinking and—”
“Shh. Be patient with your aunt Clara. You’re going to be living with her after…after I’m gone, and I hate the idea that you two will be at odds.”
“No, I’m not living with Aunt Clara. I can take care of myself. I look older than I really am and I’ll get a job and—”
“Andrew, please, stop it. Promise me you’ll go with Clara. I know you don’t want to leave your school and all your friends, but you’re to move up the coast to Santa Maria and live with Clara. The only other alternative would be for you to go into foster care, and I can’t bear the thought of your being with strangers. Promise me that you’ll finish high school while under Clara’s roof. Promise me, Andrew, please.”
Andrew sighed. “Okay, I promise. I’m not going to act like a son living with his mother, though. It will be a place to eat and sleep, nothing more. I don’t like Aunt Clara, Mom, and I don’t trust her. She always has a…a plan, a scheme or something. She looks out for herself and doesn’t give a rip about anyone else.”
“She just sees things differently than we do.” Sally drew a shuddering breath. “Oh, I’m so tired. I’ve fought this menace within me for as long as I could, but…Oh, my darling Andrew, I’m so sorry to be leaving you. You’ve brought me nothing but happiness from the moment you were born. I’m not afraid of dying. I just wish I could watch you finish growing up, see you marry, hold your babies.”
“Don’t wear yourself out, Mom. Take it easy,” Andrew said. “I don’t intend to ever marry. Loving someone gives them a power over you, the ability to destroy you, break your heart and…Never mind.”
“You’re wrong, Andrew. Love can be glorious, like a miracle, when you find the right person. Don’t deprive yourself of that just because I chose the wrong one. Sweetheart, do you resent the fact that I’ve never told you who your father is?”
“I don’t care who he is,” Andrew said firmly. “You said that you loved him, but he didn’t love you. That’s it. End of story. The guy broke your heart and I have no use for him. We’ve done just fine without him, whoever he is. You’ve said for years that it would serve no purpose for me to know his identity. That’s fine with me.”
“Thank you, Andrew. I would be upset if I thought you’d been angry all these years because I wouldn’t divulge your father’s name.” Sally closed her eyes for a moment, then looked at her son again. “Andrew? Please hold my hand. Please?”
“I am, Mom. I have your hand in both of mine. I’m right here.”
“I can’t feel…your hand. I…”
“Mom? Mother?”
“Forgive me for leaving you. Forgive me. Don’t grieve for me, my sweet baby boy. I want…you to…be happy. You deserve…to be happy because…you’ve brought me so much…joy. I’m so…tired. I love…you. I…love…you. I…love…”
“Mom!” Andrew said, tightening his hold on her hand. “No! Don’t go. Don’t leave me. Not yet. Mom! Oh, God, no-o-o.”
Andrew had buried his face next to his mother’s head on the pillow and wept.
The feel of tears on his cheeks jolted Andrew back to the present, and he stared up at the ceiling of the hotel room for a long moment, struggling to regain control of his raging emotions.
He dragged his hands down his face, then propped his elbows on his knees and skimmed his thumbs over the tips of his moist fingers.
He hadn’t cried since that day in the hospital when his mother had died, he thought. He’d wept then, until there were no more tears to shed.
And these tears? They weren’t for Sally Malone or for the lonely fifteen-year-old boy who had been forced into an early manhood. No, they were for Kara, and Robert, and for all the MacAllisters who were going through the horror of a long hospital vigil now just as he had experienced so many years ago.
They were suffering immeasurable pain because of what he had done. He had set off on a mission that his mother would not have approved of.
He’d been so determined that Robert MacAllister would acknowledge the existence of Sally Malone. But if she had truly wanted that recognition, what was rightfully hers, she would have approached Robert herself and demanded he take responsibility for her and his child.
“Ah, man, Malone,” Andrew said aloud, shaking his head. “You went off half-cocked, didn’t think it through, just reacted to Clara’s rantings and ravings, and that photograph in the newspaper, and…”
And now? An entire family was in pain because of what he had done. He couldn’t reverse it, couldn’t fix it, couldn’t do anything, except wait to find out if Robert MacAllister was going to survive.
Andrew snatched up the telephone receiver and dialed the number of Mercy Hospital. When someone answered, he asked to speak to Dr. Kara MacAllister.
“I’ll need your name before I page her, sir,” the woman on the telephone said.
“Malone. Andrew Malone.”
“Thank you, sir. Please wait on the line while I page Dr. MacAllister.”
Yes, he’d wait, Andrew thought. He’d wait for Kara to answer the page. He’d wait for Kara to trust him enough to tell him about her past, reveal her innermost secrets to him.
But for the life of him, he couldn’t think of one good reason she would even consider doing that.
“Oh, Kara,” Margaret whispered, “Robert looks so much better. See? There’s even a little color in his cheeks now.”
“Yes, there is,” Kara said. “He’s sleeping peacefully, Aunt Margaret.”
“Did you see the smile he gave me before he dozed off?” Margaret said, her eyes filling with tears. “That was my Robert.”
“It was a beautiful loving smile,” Kara said, nodding. “It hasn’t been twenty-four hours since Uncle Robert’s heart attack, but the specialists feel he is going to make it through this. Now that he’s out of intensive care, they’re discussing what tests they want to run and when they think he’ll be up to going through them. I’m so happy that—”
The pager in the pocket of her white medical coat buzzed. She took it out and looked at the tiny screen on the top.
“I have to call the hospital operator,” she said. “I’ll go out to the nurses’ station so I won’t disturb Uncle Robert.”
“I’ll just sit here and watch him sleep,” Margaret said. “Will that be all right?”
“Yes, that’s fine,” Kara said. “I know some of the family is here, but you’re the only visitor Uncle Robert is to have for now. The doctors were very emphatic about that. The others will have to be patient. It probably won’t be too long before they can see him. I’ll be back soon.”
Kara hurried from the room and went to the nurses’ station. She lifted the receiver to the telephone and pressed a button.
“Dr. MacAllister,” she said.
“There’s an Andrew Malone holding on the line for you, Dr. MacAllister,” the woman said. “Shall I put his call through?”
Andrew, Kara thought, a vivid image of him forming instantly in her mental vision. She’d dreamed about Andrew Malone. Sensual dreams. Dreams of being held in his arms, kissed and caressed by him. Dreams that had caused her to toss and turn in the narrow bed in the residents’ room. Dreams that had finally jolted her awake to discover that heated desire was pulsing low in her body.
“Dr. MacAllister?” the operator said. “Are you still there?”
“Oh. Oh, yes, I’m here. I’m sorry. Please put Mr. Malone’s call through. Thank you.”
Kara depressed the button on the telephone and an instant later it rang. She lifted her hand again and saw that it was trembling slightly.
“Dr. MacAllister,” she said, hoping her voice was steadier than it sounded to her own ears.
“Kara? This is Andrew. How are you? And how is Robert?”
“Uncle Robert regained consciousness early this morning,” she said. “He’s in a private room now and sleeping peacefully. His doctors are very optimistic about his surviving the heart attack and are conferring as to what tests to run and when.”
“Thank God,” Andrew said, his voice husky. “Oh, man, what a relief. I can’t begin to tell you how…well, I can only hope you know that I’m grateful that he’s going to be all right. You believe me, don’t you?”
“Yes. Yes, Andrew, I believe you. I’m aware of how distressed you were about what happened. Uncle Robert has a long way to go here, but things certainly look brighter than they did last night.” Kara paused. “Where…where are you, Andrew?”
“I managed to get a hotel room.”
“Oh, I see. Well, that’s good. You got some sleep, then?”
Yes, and dreamed about you, Andrew thought.
“I slept,” he said. “Did you?”
A warm flush stained Kara’s cheeks as she remembered the dreams she’d had of Andrew.
“Oh, yes, I was snug as a bug in the residents’ room. I’m as good as new.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Listen, I’m going to have something to eat, then come over to the hospital. I’ll stay in the shadows, keep out of your family’s way, but I’m not going back to Santa Maria until I know what the tests show about Robert’s condition. I’d like to see you while I’m there.”
“I…well, yes, of course, you’ll want to be kept up to date on Uncle Robert’s condition. Just so you know, I’ll be checking on my patients who are here, doing my rounds. I’ll watch for you…in the shadows.”
“Kara, being kept apprised of Robert’s condition isn’t the only reason I want to see you. You know that, don’t you?”
“I…”
“Don’t you?”
“Yes, Andrew, I know that.”
“Good. Until later, then. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye,” Kara said softly, then replaced the receiver slowly.
“You were talking to Andrew Malone?”
Kara spun around to see her brother, Richard, frowning at her.
“Yes, Richard, I was,” she said. “He called to check on Uncle Robert. He’s been extremely concerned that—”
“That we’ll sue the pants off him probably,” Richard said. “Some fancy lawyer would no doubt find a way to file a suit of some kind against Malone for what he did to Uncle Robert.”
“Richard, Andrew is sincerely sorry for what happened at that party.”
“Andrew? It’s Andrew now? Jeez, Kara, how can you be so cozy with the guy? He nearly killed our uncle, for crying out loud.”
“Richard, that’s not fair. It wasn’t Andrew’s intention to hurt Uncle Robert. Andrew simply wanted…” Kara paused. “Well, I don’t know exactly what the purpose of that confrontation was, but it certainly wasn’t to cause Uncle Robert any physical harm.”
“You’re defending what Malone did?” Richard said, his frown deepening. “Are you aware that reporters were at that party? Have you seen the newspapers? They’re having a field day with this. The secret son of highly respected, powerful and wealthy Robert MacAllister crashes family party and…That’s just an example of what is in the papers. The press have picked up Malone’s lie and are running with it.”
“Richard, what Andrew said is true. He is Uncle Robert’s son. When you look at Andrew up close, you can see the same MacAllister eyes that all of you have. His features, too, are Uncle Robert’s. There’s no denying the truth, and you’re going to have to accept it.”
“Just how ‘up close’ to Malone have you been, little sister?” Richard said, folding his arms over his chest. “If that guy is making a move on you, there is going to be hell to pay, believe me. He better stay away from you, or he’ll hear from me—personally.”
“Oh, Richard, stop it,” Kara said. “I’m not sixteen years old anymore. I don’t need you and Jack defending me against everyone walking around in a pair of pants. I’m all grown up, remember?”
“Okay, you’re all grown up,” Richard said, nodding. “So, all-grown-up sister, where is your family loyalty? You’re standing there pleading Andrew’s case, saying he didn’t mean to cause Uncle Robert any harm. What’s next? Guess who’s coming to dinner?”
“Who served you a nasty pill for breakfast?”
Kara turned to find Brenda Henderson glaring at Richard.
“Hi, Brenda,” Kara said. “Are you here to collect Mr. Congeniality—I hope?”
“Cute,” Richard said, glowering at Kara, then directing his attention to Brenda. “What are you doing here?”

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