Bosom Buddies (4 page)

Too close.

He was much too close. Allie opened the dishwasher, started loading it, and breathed a sigh of relief when Ian went back to the table for the rest of the dishes.

Why did he bother her so much?

She’d never cared for professionals, and after Doctor Slimeball, she cared for them even less. So why did this particular man make it hard for her to breathe?

“Table’s clear,” he said.

“Uh, thanks.” Studiously she concentrated on the dishes in front of her. “About tomorrow?”

“I don’t have to go anywhere.”

“Well, neither do I. A friend’s coming over with some shelves he made for me, so I’ll be here all day. Ryane’s welcome to come over when you go visit Anne.”

“Really, it’s not—”

“Don’t say it,” she said, turning and brandishing a wooden spoon like a sword. “We agreed there were only two acceptable answers, and neither of them start with ‘it’s not.’”

A rusty sound that might have been a chuckle came from deep in Ian’s throat. “‘Yes, Allie, that would be wonderful.’ How about we come down about ten?”

She smiled a smile a teacher might use on a prized pupil. “That would be wonderful, Ian.”

“You’re a tough cookie,” Ian said, a hint of admiration in his voice.

“The toughest. I told you, my brothers didn’t raise no sissy.” Teasing, smiling, almost laughing—she liked to see him like this. Liked it almost too much.

“Yes, I do think your brothers and I are going to have to have that little talk.”

“Well, get in line. Someone was always wanting to have a ‘little talk’ with them about me.” She turned back to the dishes.

“Did it ever do any good?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Nope, not a bit.”

Ian looked at this strange woman. He thought he saw a hint of sadness in her eyes. A sudden, inexplicable urge to lighten that look swept through him. It was a foreign feeling. His hand rose, as if it were planning to touch her of its own accord, but Ian took control of that wayward limb and let it sink back to his side.

Ian Ryan wasn’t one to soothe savage brows, mend broken hearts, or ease overburdened shoulders. Ian was used to standing on his own two feet, and he expected the people who surrounded him to do the same.

Of course, there was Anne. She was different. She had always been different. She’d been his responsibility since the first night she’d arrived at the Wilsons’ house. She’d cried. Her tears still haunted him, and he’d done his best to see there hadn’t been many, but there had been some.

The night she’d told him she was pregnant she’d cried, and he hadn’t been able to do a thing about it. Her tears hadn’t been for the baby, she’d wanted Ryane right from the start. It was for the father of the baby. Ian longed to meet whoever he was some night in a dark alley. Hell, he wouldn’t mind meeting him in a sunlit library. He deserved to be beaten for putting tears in Anne’s eyes.

Rage coursed through his veins. He’d felt it for years and had worked to master it, but this time he held it close. Rage at the mother who’d left him adrift in a welfare system that could do little for him except shift him from home to home. Rage at the man who’d left tears in Anne’s eyes—Anne, the only person he’d ever been able to count on.

And unexpected rage at whoever had put that sad look in Allie’s eyes. He didn’t know what to make of her and her Pollyanna cheerfulness, but he was getting used to it and her do-gooding ways. He didn’t like the thought of any sorrow touching her, though he wouldn’t mind the opportunity to touch her himself.

Thoughts of Allie staring down at him, her dark hair veiling them as he touched her, those blue eyes lit with passion, not sorrow. Yes, Ian Ryan liked the thought of that.

But since they were neighbors, a brief affair—the only kind of affair he was interested in—would be a complication. And complication was the last thing he needed now.

The next day, Ian walked into Allie’s and heard, “Oh, that’s great. Can’t you move a little faster?”

It was her voice; he was sure of that. But he wasn’t sure about what he was hearing.

She’d given him a key to the apartment, since he was coming and going so much. When she hadn’t answered the door, he’d used it.

“Come on, Patrick, you’re such a he-man, you’re not going to let a girl outdo you, are you?” She laughed that deep, husky laugh that drove him crazy.

The rage Ian had felt the night before was just a small coal compared to the fire that blazed in him now. She had a man in there?

Patrick.

She had a Patrick in there while she was watching his niece. She and her Patrick were probably doing any number of inappropriate things.

Ian’s first instincts were right—he should never have left Ryane with Allie. She was, when all was said and done, a stranger.

His hand thudded against the closed door. “Allie, I’ve come for Ryane,” he shouted.

“Just a second,” she called. “Patrick, hurry up and finish.”

She was going to make
Patrick
finish, knowing that Ian was on the other side of the door? Ian flashed cold, then hotter than he’d imagined possible. What kind of woman was Alexandra McGraw? A sharp thud had Ian cold again. “Oh, my God, Patrick, that’s good.”

The door opened and a smiling man stood between Ian and his niece. Without thinking, Ian removed the obstacle with a fist planted right in the center of that smiling face.

“Ian,” Allie exclaimed.

“How could you? I trusted you,” he bellowed.

And then he looked.

Ryane sat cooing contentedly in the center of the bed and Allie dropped a hammer and ran to her fallen comrade.

Hammer.

Ian saw the shelves that now lined Allie’s bedroom walls. Hammers. Shelving.

Ian turned to the man who was rising with Allie’s assistance.

“What got into you, Ian . . . ? What is your middle name?” Allie barked.

“Middle name?” he asked. He was totally confused, and Ian Ryan hated the feeling, though he seemed to be experiencing it a lot—a lot when he was with Allie.

“I feel better when I can yell out a string of words, and Ian Ryan isn’t nearly satisfying enough.”

“Thomas.”

“Ian Thomas Ryan. What were you thinking?” she bellowed, leading Patrick to the bed next to Ryane.

“I heard—”

“You heard?” She grabbed a T-shirt off the floor and pressed it to Patrick’s bleeding nose. “Don’t lean backward,” she commanded. “Just apply pressure to it.” She wheeled and faced Ian. “You heard?”

“It sounded like you and”—he pointed at Patrick—“were . . .”

“Were?”

“Well, from what you were saying, it didn’t sound like you were putting up shelves.”

Allie looked puzzled for a moment, and then she smirked. The smirk turned into a giggle and the giggle into full-blown laughter. “You thought Patrick and I were in here doing the nasty while I was babysitting Ryane?”

Ian resisted the urge to scuff his feet like some grade-school child. “Well, that’s what it sounded like.”

Allie continued to giggle.

“Hey, it’s not
that
funny,” Patrick finally said. He stood and extended a hand to Ian. “Patrick Errant, happily married to a friend of Allie’s, and a carpenter to boot.”

“Ian Ryan, professional foot-into-mouth inserter.”

Allie giggled again. “Maybe fist-to-nose inserter would be more appropriate?” she asked.

“Sorry,” Ian said gruffly to Patrick.

“I’ve had mosquito bites that packed a bigger wallop,” Patrick assured him.

Men, Allie thought. They get in a fistfight and suddenly are best friends. “Well, if you gentlemen are finished with your male bonding, Ryane and I will leave you to the shelves. We’re going for ice cream.”

“Allie, I’m sorry,” Ian said.

Somehow she couldn’t imagine Ian said those words often. “The apology is accepted, but next time you feel the need to defend my honor, don’t. One of the reasons I’m in Erie is because I couldn’t stand having three brothers standing over my shoulder and defending me at every turn. I didn’t move here to trade them in for a neighbor who wants to fill the same role.”

“I wasn’t protecting you, just Ryane.”

Allie had seen his face when he’d come in, and she had a feeling protecting Ryane wasn’t his main thought, but she decided not to push the issue. “Next time, ask first, hit second.”

“Okay,” he said meekly.

“And, since I’m feeling benevolent, I’ll bring you guys back a treat.” With that she grabbed the baby, turned on her heels, and left the two men.

Ian watched her go as he stripped off his jacket and tie. “So, where do we start?”

“You better with a hammer than you are with your fists?” Patrick asked.

“I hit you hard enough to make you bleed,” Ian said, feeling a mixture of chagrin and humor.

“Like I said, had worse mosquito bites.”

“I could always try again,” Ian promised.

Patrick chuckled. “I think you’d be in even more trouble if you did.”

Ian sighed. Patrick was probably right. Allie didn’t seem real pleased with him. “Again, I’m sorry. From outside that door it sounded liked something more than shelves.”

“Julie and Allie are friends. Julie volunteered me. She was supposed to be here today but got called in.”

“She works with Allie?”

Patrick nodded. “They went to school together. It was Julie who suggested Allie apply here in Erie. Seems Allie’s got a fondness for beaches and ice cream, and Erie has plenty of both. But if you ask me, it was the absence of brothers that made the decision.”

“She said something about me trying to fill their shoes,” Ian grumbled.

“I’m thinking that isn’t where you’re hoping to end up. In her bed, maybe, but not in her brothers’ shoes.”

“She’s not my type,” Ian assured him.

“If she’s not your type, I can’t imagine who is. Your eyes were looking a bit green when you rushed in. I’m thinking it wasn’t your niece you were worried about.”

Ian’s hammer landed neatly on his thumb. “Damn,” he swore, shaking it.

Patrick was wrong. He appreciated everything Allie had done for him. He admired her. Hell, he even liked her. But he wasn’t interested in sleeping with her.

And rational thought told him that he and Allie didn’t have anything in common other than they were neighbors. They would be friends.

Being friends didn’t mean he couldn’t admire that she was cute when she was in the midst of a hissy fit, but that didn’t mean he wanted her.

He whacked another nail and again missed, this time hitting the back of his hand.

“Yep, you’re about as good with a hammer as you are with your fists,” Patrick said as Ian swore.

Ian’s head was beginning to ache more than his hand, but that was all the aching he was going to do. He didn’t want Alexandra McGraw, and that stirring of desire he felt wasn’t an ache; it was just lust, and Ian didn’t have time for lust.

He turned back to the shelves and tried to put a certain black-haired woman out of his mind.

But he didn’t meet with much success, he really didn’t expect to.

And he really wasn’t sure he wanted to.

CHAPTER FOUR

Allie didn’t have permission, but when had that ever stopped her from doing anything? The answer was never. She wrapped her jacket snugly around her chest and walked confidently down the hall.

Nurse Mary Sunshine glared at her from the nurses’ station. Just her rotten luck. Deciding to be brazen, Allie waved cheerily and let herself into Anne’s room. She’d tried to play by the book and get the doctor’s permission, but she hadn’t been able to reach him yet.

“Hi,” she said.

Anne smiled. “Allie,” she said, pleasure overshadowing the pain for the moment.

Ian turned and glared. “Where’s Ryane? You said you could keep her and . . .”

Allie whipped open her coat. “Ta-da,” she said, bowing her head with flourish.

“Allie, the nurses said she couldn’t come,” Anne stage-whispered.

“Well, the doctor might have said yes if I had reached him, and I, for one, am going on the assumption that he would have, so here we are.” She moved to the side of the bed and plucked the baby from the sling. “Someone wanted to see her mom before the surgery and who was I to say no?”

“Come here, sweetie,” Anne said. There were tears in her eyes and she picked up the baby.

Allie felt choked up and shot Ian a look she used to use on her brothers. “Why don’t we go over there and talk.”

She turned to Anne. “Will you be okay?”

“We’re fine,” Anne whispered, totally engrossed in her daughter.

“What?” Ian asked, glancing nervously at Anne and the baby.

“I just wanted to give them some privacy.”

“Why did you bring Ryane? Couldn’t you get in trouble? You work here, after all.” Ian looked concerned.

“Sometimes rules were made to be broken,” Allie said gaily.

Ian appeared to sneer. “Yes, I imagine you’d see it that way.”

“And you don’t,” she stated more than asked.

“I believe in the rules.” He glanced over his shoulder and Allie’s gaze followed his. Anne was delightedly kissing the baby, cooing at her. “But I also think sometimes the rules should be bent.”

“You don’t strike me as a man who bends often,” Allie said softly. “If you bent, you might accidentally lean in closer to someone, and you wouldn’t want that.”

“Are you saying I’m Allie-enating?”

There was that same hint of a smile that made Allie think his odd pronunciation might have been intentional. Alienating. Allie-enating?

She looked at him closely. “You’re joking aren’t you?” She moved closer yet and peered into his eyes. “You are, aren’t you?”

“I never joke,” he said, his face still serious.

She was sure that he was joking and smiled. “Yeah, so you say.”

“You know what else I say?” he asked.

“Hm?”

“Thank you.” He looked at her with accusation this time. “I seem to be saying that to you a lot.”

“Ah, you’ll get used to it. My brothers did . . . eventually.” She laughed. It was not a very mature, career-woman sound, but Allie had never particularly cared to present a mature, career-woman image. She preferred to be herself, and herself was someone who could occasionally laugh.

“When are you giving me their phone numbers? A wise businessman knows when to call in reinforcements.”

“Maybe tomorrow,” she said with a smile.

Looking back at Anne, he asked, “She’ll be okay, won’t she?”

“She’ll be just fine.” She longed to touch him, but she didn’t. It wouldn’t be smart, and though she was rarely serious, she wasn’t dumb. Touching Ian Ryan would be a huge mistake.

Ian nodded and started to say more when the door to the room opened. Nurse Mary walked in, and it wasn’t sunshine she was spreading.

She glared at Anne. “What is that baby doing here?”

“You’re a nurse and you can’t tell that the baby is bonding with her mother?” Ian asked, a cold sneer in his voice. Allie had heard Ian be cold before, but never anything like this. She was glad it wasn’t directed at her.

“On whose orders?” the nurse demanded, not looking very intimidated.

“On mine,” Ian said, in a voice that said he was used to giving orders. “And if you have a problem with my sister spending time with her daughter before surgery, then you can call the physician in charge, at home, on a Sunday night, and we’ll see just who he’s annoyed with.”

“Babies don’t belong in the hospital,” the nurse said.

“Really? Would you like to explain that to the floor of new mothers you have in this hospital? Or how about the pediatric floor?”

“What I mean is they don’t belong in this section.”

“You’re telling me you never have pediatric orthopedic cases?” Allie asked innocently.

Mary pulled up her buxom self and glared at Allie. “You did this,” she accused, eyeing the baby sling.

“I believe you and I were speaking,” Ian said, trying to redirect the woman.

The nurse was not about to be redirected. “So, your calendar isn’t full enough, you have to take time out from seducing married men to smuggle babies.”

Allie felt Ian’s eyes burning into her. Damn the woman and damn Doctor Slimeball. Rather than let her distress show, Allie merely smiled. “Well, you know, seducing men is rather more my style, but sometimes a change of pace is nice.”

“Humph,”
was the woman’s only reply as she stormed from the room. “Fifteen minutes until visiting hours are over and I expect all three of you to be out of here.”

“Well, you know how I hate to break the rules,” Allie said, her voice saccharine sweet.

The door slamming was the nurse’s only response.

“Would you like to explain?” Ian asked, his voice cold.

“No, I don’t believe I would,” Allie assured him.

She didn’t owe Ian Ryan anything. She’d moved to Erie to escape explaining things to three brothers, she wasn’t about to let Ian take their place.

“It’s hard to respect a woman who would chase a married man,” he said.

His voice let her know just what he thought.

Allie tried to ignore the pain that caused her. “And it’s hard to respect a man who would jump to conclusions based on one
oh-so-very-pleasant
woman.”

“I asked for an explanation and you wouldn’t provide me with one, so I’m left with just the accusation.”

“How do I refute the accusation? Even if I told you what really happened, the truth remains, I did go out with a married man. So you’re right, you’re just left with the accusation.” Allie took the sling off and handed it to Ian. “I trust you can get Ryane to sleep?”

He nodded.

“Fine. Bring her down tomorrow when you’re ready to come to the hospital.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Thank you,” Anne said. She glared at her brother. “I can’t tell you how much we appreciate all you’ve done. And I, for one”—she gave Ian another evil look—“know you must have some very good reason. If you want to talk about it, the offer still stands.”

Allie leaned over and kissed Ryane’s forehead.

She turned to Anne and squeezed her hand. “Thank you. Having a friend who believes in you, regardless of what others say, is a real treasure.” She squeezed it again. “Everything will be okay tomorrow.”

“I’ll be just fine. The sooner it’s over, the sooner I can be home with Ryane again.” Anne’s face clouded. “Wherever that is.”

“Don’t worry. I have a plan.” Allie winked.

Anne’s face cleared. “I just bet you do.”

“Good night,” Allie said. “Don’t worry about anything.”

She didn’t spare Ian another glance as she left the room, and she met Mary’s glare with a steady look as she walked down the floor.

She’d never cared what people thought of her and she wasn’t about to start now. Just because Ian Ryan chose to believe the worst of her didn’t bother her at all.

Alexandra McGraw didn’t need anyone. She never had, she never would.

Ian’s opinion didn’t matter any more than anyone else’s.

She kept telling herself that as she marched to her car, and though her head was listening, her heart didn’t seem to care a bit.

“It looks better, doesn’t it?” Allie asked Ryane, who gurgled her agreement.

“Yes, I think so too.” She stared at the shelves, loaded with books and little mementos from over the years.

“Okay, let’s go stir the soup. Chicken noodle soup is always good for what ails you, not that anything is bothering me, mind you,” she assured the baby.

Just because Ian had wordlessly dropped the baby off that morning.

Just because his expression said he’d rather leave the baby anywhere other than with her, but he had no choice.

Just because her heart gave a shudder as he turned his back with a crisp, obligatory “Thank you.”

“No, there isn’t anything at all that’s bothering me,” Allie assured the baby and herself.

The house was finally cleaned, the soup was stirred, and Ryane was contentedly gurgling. Allie didn’t know what to do with herself now.

She could make some follow-up calls, she decided.

Feeling better, she found her logbook and turned to the first marked page, her nimble fingers dialing eagerly.

If only she stayed busy enough, she wouldn’t have to dwell on all the things that
weren’t
bothering her.

“Hello, Marsha? This is Allie McGraw. I just wanted to see if things were going better.”

The new mother had had sore nipples, but with some work on the baby’s positioning, Allie thought they’d beat the problem. She talked to Marsha for the next twenty minutes and hung up, confident that the mother and newborn were on the right track. This was what mattered.

Allie loved every part of her job. There was nothing more miraculous than helping a mother bring a new life into the world. She especially enjoyed working with those mothers and their babies afterward to see to it they got a good start at breastfeeding. And she loved helping those who didn’t start quite so smoothly get back on track.

Making a difference provided Allie with a great deal of satisfaction.

“Well, you were good,” Allie told the baby. She glanced her watch. “And it’s almost time for your feeding. Let’s go get that bottle ready before you decide you can’t wait for it.” One thing she’d learned was that when Ryane was ready to eat, Ryane was ready to eat. The baby didn’t accept excuses.

She had just settled down with the baby and the bottle when there was a knock at the door. “Come in,” she hollered.

“You shouldn’t leave your door unlocked,” a scowling Ian Ryan greeted her.

“You’re probably right,” Allie said. “How’s Anne?” she asked, changing the subject.

“Everything went fine. She’s groggy with the pain meds, and when I left she was sleeping off and on.”

“Good. Before you know it, she’ll be home.” Allie picked up the baby and began patting her back. “She’s just about done here and almost ready for a little nap.”

“Fine, I’ll take her upstairs.”

“Do you want some soup? Chicken noodle tonight—homemade noodles.”

“I don’t think so,” Ian said, no hint of regret in his voice.

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

They gathered up the baby’s things together in silence. “This place sure looks different,” Ian said.

“Amazing how unpacking a dozen or so boxes can make a difference.”

“Why did you wait so long?” Ian asked.

“Be careful, Ian. I might think your interest indicates you’ve decided to overlook my sordid past.”

“I just want an explanation,” he said.

“And why do I owe you that?” she asked. “You’re not my brother, not even a friend. You’re just a man I’ve been helping out. Not really for your sake, but for the baby and Anne’s sake. So why do I owe you an explanation?”

“You don’t,” he said gruffly.

“Well, then we’re both agreed,” she said.

“Thank you for today.” He stood there, spine stiff, face impassive.

“As I said, it wasn’t for you, it was for Ryane and Anne.”

He nodded and took the baby from her extended arms. He began to walk out the door.

“And, Ian?” Allie called.

“What?” He turned around and fixed those dark, brooding eyes, eyes that would look quite at home in a Brontë novel, on her.

“I didn’t know he was married. I was new in town and lonely, and we had dinner a few times. He made it clear he wanted more, but I wanted to know him better first. As soon as I found out he was married, I dumped him. But it wasn’t soon enough. His wife found out and made a scene. I’ve been wearing a scarlet letter on my chest ever since.”

Why on earth did she feel the need to tell him that? Cursing herself for being a fool, Allie began to close the door.

“Thank you,” Ian said.

Allie didn’t say a word but closed the door in his face and dutifully locked it.

She didn’t know why she’d done that. She didn’t make it a habit of explaining herself to people who didn’t matter. And Ian didn’t matter. He wasn’t the type of man she dated. Oh, he was the go-weak-in-the-knees sort of good-looking, but he wasn’t the type of man that shook her world. He wasn’t even the type of man she befriended. She liked her friends to be as happy and lighthearted as she was.

Ian was neither.

Not by a long shot. He was a man who apparently didn’t know a thing about smiling, even less about laughing.

No, he wasn’t someone she’d have in her life under usual circumstances. She didn’t want anything from him, not even his approval. And that little explanation was the last she would offer.

She stalked into the kitchen and turned off the soup.

She wasn’t very hungry.

“Well, here we are,” Allie said, bright and early Wednesday morning. She had Ryane in her arms and handed the baby to her mother. “I talked to Dr. Johns, and he agreed that Ryane can come in two or three times a day and nurse.”

Anne didn’t say a word, just held the baby close. “She’s bigger.”

“Not that much bigger,” Allie reassured her. She looked the woman over. Anne looked better since the surgery. Her leg was no longer in traction, but propped on pillows. “You started therapy today?”

Anne laughed. “Oh, let’s talk about good times. They put my leg on this little skateboard thing and I rolled it back and forth half a dozen times. Just six times and I was exhausted.”