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Authors: Pat Warren

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BOOK: Stand-In Father (Intimate Moments)
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Alex frowned, perplexed. “I don’t follow you.”
Grace crossed her feet and leaned against the counter. “You came to us exactly one week ago today. Here you are, cutting the grass, buying and serving watermelon, giving Ryan batting lessons, going to his games and even tucking Megan into her bed. So I can’t help wondering just what you’re after—an invitation into that same bed?”
“I’d be lying if I said I’d turn it down, but no, that isn’t why I’ve stayed.” Hoping he sounded more sincere than he felt, Alex searched for the right words. “My business deal hasn’t finalized, so in the meantime I’m simply trying to help out. Is that a concept so hard for you two to grasp?” Now or never, Alex decided. “By the way, I get the feeling Megan’s in financial trouble with this place. Am I right?”
Grace shifted her gaze, sure she’d already revealed too much. “That’s not for me to say. What if she is? What’s it to you?”
Alex knew he’d have to give some to get some. “Listen, I nearly died last year. I was in the hospital for weeks, then recovering at home for six months. Something like that changes a man, makes him realize life is awfully damn short. If I find I like somebody and I can help them out even in small ways, is that a crime?”
At that moment, Ryan, barefoot and wrapped in a blue towel, came racing down the stairs and into the kitchen. “Grace, I can’t find my favorite Tasmanian devil p.j.’s. Are they in the wash?”
Still looking at Alex, Grace answered, “In the dryer.”
For another long moment, Alex stared into Grace’s distrustful eyes, then he turned to the boy. “Come on, sport. I’ll help you find ’em.” He followed Ryan into the laundry room.
“Mom’s asleep. Are you going to check my homework or should I ask Grace?” Ryan wanted to know.
Alex found a clothes basket and emptied the contents of the dryer. “I’ll check it. If there are no mistakes, I’ll drive you to school in the morning in the Porsche.”
“All
right!
Wait’ll the guys see that!” Ryan found his pajamas, then hurried from the room. “Good night, Grace.”
Grace smiled at his retreating back. “See you later, alligator.”
“In a while, crocodile,” Ryan singsonged as he stomped up the stairs.
“Hey, sport,” Alex said, trailing after him, “let’s not wake your mother. She’s a little grumpy tonight.”
She’s not the only one, Grace thought as she closed the dishwasher. We’re all a little on edge.
The grandfather clock in the foyer struck nine times, its chimes echoing through the silent house. Long shadows engulfed the rooms from the small lamp left burning in the lounge for any guests still out and the stove light that stayed on all night in the kitchen. Upstairs in the third-floor bedroom, Megan slept fitfully as Alex sat in a bentwood rocker alongside the bed, quietly watching her. On his way to his own room, he’d detoured and brought up a glass of cold orange juice and two more aspirin. But finding her still asleep, he hadn’t had the heart to waken her.
She’d changed into a long cotton nightgown, probably with Grace’s help. Restlessly, she’d pushed off the sheet and light blanket. Her face was flushed, her thick, dark hair spread out on the pillow as she lay on her side, one hand curled next to her cheek. From time to time, her breathing became a bit labored, then she’d cough and settle down again. Occasionally, she shifted and groaned in her sleep as the pain from her ankle made itself known.
He’d been sitting guard for half an hour, just watching her.
So she’d filed for divorce. Interesting. Why? he wondered. Was it because of Neal’s erratic job history that Emily at the Cornerstone had mentioned? Or the fact that he didn’t seem to take much interest in his son, as Ryan had revealed when he’d said that Neal never went to his games? Or was it because he’d wanted to live beyond their means with the big sailboat and the flashy car, which didn’t seem Megan’s style at all?
He’d fleetingly wondered how a woman who’d lost her husband less than a year ago could have kissed him so passionately, and now he had his answer. The glue that had held their marriage together had apparently vanished. So they’d been separated when Neal got sick. Had she stood by him during his illness anyway, perhaps praying that he’d get that all-important transplant? From what little he knew of Megan, he was certain she had, if for no other reason than because Neal was Ryan’s father.
How long had Neal been ill? Had she perhaps even nursed him for a while until he’d had to go into the hospital? But she hadn’t let him into her room, putting him in Ryan’s room instead. Had his illness drained every cent they had and exhausted her besides? Could they have run up a quarter of a million dollars worth of medical bills? Not impossible, Alex supposed, depending on the length and severity of the illness.
Megan moaned in her sleep, thrashed about a bit, then calmed again. Loyalty, he’d wager, was a big part of her makeup. She would do the right thing, disregarding her own needs. While commendable, look where it had gotten her.
Maybe when she felt better, he could get her to talk about her past. Carefully. Because one confidence demanded another, and he wasn’t especially anxious to talk about his.
Rising, he stepped to the bed and pulled the covers up to her shoulders. As he did, her eyes slowly opened. She blinked as if disoriented, then he watched her gaze fly to the clock. Next, she glanced out the window, apparently checking to see if it was night or day.
Nine at night!
That couldn’t be right, Megan thought, alarmed. Her clock must be wrong. She’d fallen asleep after Dr. Lane had left, around five. She’d only wanted to get rid of her headache.
“Four hours? No, I couldn’t have napped for four hours.” She threw back the covers and made an effort to sit up even though a spasm of pain shot up her entire right leg. “Ryan! Where’s Ryan?”
“He’s fine. Been in here twice to see you, but you slept on.” He reached over to the nightstand for the aspirin and glass of juice. “Here. Take these.”
Her mind fuzzy, Megan scowled. “What are those?”
“Simple aspirin, like the ones you’ve already had. You can read the imprint on each tablet.” He shook his head, looking disappointed. “You really are a suspicious one.”
It was easier to take the pills than to argue. Afterward, though she longed to lie back down, she ran a hand through her damp hair and swung her good left leg over the side of the bed. The headache, thank goodness, was gone, but her right ankle throbbed like the devil. Still, she had to see to her son.
 
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“I have to help Ryan with his homework, make sure he takes his shower and...did he eat?”
“Let’s see. Yes, he ate. Two bowls of Grace’s spaghetti, salad and bread. Not the crusts. A glass of milk, two cookies. He did his homework—two pages of math—and I checked it. He’s had his shower and he’s in his favorite pajamas sound asleep for well over an hour. Anything else?”
Megan blinked. “You did all that?”
“Grace and I together. We’ve bonded. You’ll be pleased to know we’re great chums.” Which wasn’t exactly the truth, since Grace still regarded him darkly through suspicious eyes. But he was making progress.
She had trouble grasping all that. “That’s nice,” she muttered, looking down and suddenly realizing she was wearing only a thin gown. She reached for the blanket, awkwardly arranging it over herself. “I’ll be fine by morning. I heal very quickly, always have.”
“I don’t think so. The doctor said three or four days off that foot and I have a tendency to believe his diagnosis over yours.”
“Oh, damn,” Megan complained, running a hand through her disheveled hair. “This is a bad time for this to happen.” Was there ever a good time? She looked at Alex, a worried expression on her face. “Is Ryan really okay?” Poor little kid had been so scared for her.
“He’s fine. Better than fine. He got an A-minus on his spelling test. Missed that word
impossible.
Let’s see, what else? Billy Somebody-or-other threw up in class and got to go home in a taxi because his mother’s expecting a baby any day and can’t drive. I finished weeding the flower garden after dinner and you can hit me when you feel up to it.” He paused, scratched his chin. “I guess that’s about all the news worth knowing for tonight. Are you hungry?”
“No.” Megan shifted her sore leg. If anything, it felt worse. Three, maybe four more days of this. She felt like screaming in frustration.
“Want the heating pad again? Or maybe an ice bag.”
“I don’t want you waiting on me.” Suddenly, the lateness of the hour registered. “Come to think of it, what are you doing here at this time of night? Where’s Grace? I want Grace to come up here.” She saw he wasn’t moving, decided to stop being so demanding and difficult. “Please.”
“She’ll be up as soon as she gets back from delivering your baked goods.” He held up a hand to stop the protest he knew would be forthcoming. “Her idea, not mine. Says she didn’t have a hot date tonight anyway. She’s a damn fine-looking woman, you know?”
Even in her foggy state, Megan managed to feel a jolt of jealousy. A little one. Then she was disgusted with herself. She felt so rotten she didn’t care if the two of them ran off and eloped. “Ryan can’t go to sleep without his Tasmanian pillow. He gets real upset if he—”
“Already in his bed. We talked about the Taz. I kind of like him, too.”
Megan couldn’t picture it, a grown man, one who looked as appealing as Alex Shephard, admiring the Tasmanian devil.
“You sure you don’t want a bowl of soup or something? That ice bag?” When she just shook her head, Alex decided she needed rest more than anything, so he stood. “If there’s nothing else you need, I’ll go now. Sleep well.” He started for the door.
A wave of guilt washed over Megan. “Alex?” She’d been difficult, obnoxious and ungrateful and he’d been so nice.
He turned back, his face questioning.
“Thanks. I... I appreciate everything.”
He gave her his slow, sexy smile. “We aim to please.” He’d caught the disease, Alex realized. He was talking in the plural.
Chapter 6
“T
his is terrible,” Megan complained. “I’ve never been sidelined like this before.”
“You are now, hon, and you’ve got the crankiness to prove it.” With her usual efficient movements, Grace whipped off Megan’s damp bedclothes, piled them by the door and shook out a fresh fitted sheet.
Seated in the rocker vacated by Alex a short time ago, Megan leaned her head back. She felt slightly better after brushing her teeth, but she was still annoyed at her predicament. “I’d love a shower.”
“Tomorrow morning, maybe. You couldn’t stand up long enough on one leg tonight.” Grace eased pale peach pillow slips into place, then fluffed the pillows before putting them back on the bed. “Did you finish your tray?” She’d brought up a chicken salad sandwich and tea after her run into town to the Cornerstone.
“Most of it.” Her appetite seemed to have fled along with her sense of humor.
“Got to keep up your strength.” She flipped the blanket onto the bed, tucked in hospital corners.
Dutifully, because it was hard to refuse someone who was mothering you, Megan drank the rest of her tea. “I think I scared Ryan when I fell. He sat next to me on the bed, his eyes so huge.”
Finished, Grace sat down on the edge of the bed. “He’s afraid you’ll die, like Neal did,” she told her friend. “You might know he’d think that.”
“Yes, I do know. That’s why I told him to give me a big hug, to show him I was on the mend. He felt better hearing the doctor say it was nothing serious.”
“Your hug’s what he needed. Though I must say, Alex has done a masterful job of keeping the boy occupied. Batting practice, catching practice. Homework. Even ate at the kitchen table with us, joking with Ryan whenever his little face clouded up. And he’s driving him to school in that snazzy convertible in the morning.” She shook her head. “What do you make of that man?”
Despite the heat of the tea, Megan shivered. “I wish I knew. He’s a cross between a guardian angel and a very large pain in the butt.” Bracing her hands on the chair, she hopped on one foot to the bed. “I think I’d better lie down. I don’t know why I’m so shaky.”
“Aftershock probably.” Grace moved to assist her, then drew up the covers. “Too soon for more aspirin, but I’ll be in with it later. Or maybe Alex will be. He’ll probably arm wrestle me for the privilege. He has this thing for you.”
Megan almost laughed. “Undoubtedly because I’m so gorgeous with this stringy hair and scowling face.”
“He asked me some questions about you earlier.” The answers she’d given had weighed heavily on Grace’s mind. “I told him you’d filed for divorce from Neal.”
Megan snuggled into her pillow. “That wasn’t exactly a secret. What kind of questions?”
“He wanted to know if you’re in financial trouble with this place.”
Megan frowned. “Why would he want to know that?”
“Beats me.” Grace fussed with the covers unnecessarily. “Says he likes to help people.”
“You know, it’s hard for me to believe that this man who, by his own admission, was never happier than when he was climbing mountains or scuba diving in some remote ocean or on safari in a faraway jungle is now happiest in this small town simply helping people out. What’s wrong with this picture?”
“Maybe that was then and this is now. He said he had a really serious illness last year. Almost died. It changed him.”
Megan sighed. “Do you suppose he had an epiphany? Because we both know how reliable the word of a man who says he’s changed is, don’t we?”
Grace, too, remembered Neal and his empty promises, to say nothing of her two exes. “Yes, we sure do.” She gathered up the crumpled linen. “Is there anything else I can get you?”
“No, thank you, Grace. You’re a treasure. I’ll be fine tomorrow. I’ll be downstairs to get breakfast and get Ryan off to school.”
“We’ll see. Meantime, I’m leaving my bedroom door open. If you need anything, just yell.”
“Mmm.” Annoyed with the world in general, Megan lay back. Maybe tomorrow by some miracle she’d be greatly improved. And maybe pigs could fly!
 
“I hate being confined.” Sitting up in bed, Megan chewed disconsolately on a piece of toast. She’d thought about hobbling downstairs on one foot or taking the steps on her bottom, but sitting around watching Grace do the work she should be doing would only make her feel worse.
“So you’ve said,” Alex answered.
“I thought I’d be able to get around better by this morning.” She’d offered to sit at the kitchen table and peel vegetables, but Grace had nixed the idea, saying she didn’t need Megan in her way. Later, she’d brought up a basket of mending and smilingly mentioned that Megan at last had time for that dreaded chore. Megan had glared at her, but she’d taken the basket.
“Sprains and pulled muscles have to run their course.” He shook two aspirin out of the bottle on her nightstand and handed her the glass of juice he’d brought up.
Megan took them, not that they helped much, but maybe she’d feel even worse without something for the pain. But aspirin didn’t take away her major concerns. “How’re my guests doing?”
“All taken care of. Grace and I are handling things. I made western omelettes this morning. They went over big. Would you like me to make you one?”
“Toast is fine, thanks. Why didn’t Ryan come in to see me this morning?” Most of all, she missed her little boy.
“He told me he stuck his head in earlier, but you were sleeping and Grace had warned him not to wake you.”
The problem was, Megan thought, that she tossed and turned and moaned with pain half the night, then had fallen deeply asleep toward morning.
“Anyhow, don’t worry about Ryan. He got off to school on time.” He didn’t mention that he’d driven the boy or that when they were passing the bus stop, Ryan’s friend, Bobby, all but begged for a ride. So Alex had belted both boys into the passenger seat and continued on.
She found a smile. “Did he enjoy the ride in your convertible?”
“Apparently, the walls have ears.” Aware of her frustration over not being in the mainstream, recognizing it from the long days of his own confinement, he sat down in the rocker. “I know just how you feel. I hate being laid up, too.”
He looked so tanned and healthy. “You don’t look as if you ever are.”
“I’ve had my share of down days.” Quite a few, actually.
Megan remembered he’d referred to recovering from an illness in the garden that first night and Grace had said he’d told her it had been a serious one. “What sort of illness did you have?” It seemed like a terribly personal thing to ask, but then, what could be more intimate than a man carrying her up to her sickbed?
“Major surgery,” he answered, feeling like a coward at the vague explanation. “I’m fully recovered now.” This wasn’t the time to go into his transplant story, Alex felt. “The worst thing about being laid up is being dependent on others for so many things.”
“Amen to that. I don’t like to be told I can’t do something.”
Relieved that she had no more questions about him, he laughed. “I’ve noticed that about you.”
She had to smile at that. “I’m a lousy patient, I know. I’m sorry if I gave you a hard time.” This might be the perfect moment to say a few things she’d been avoiding. “Listen, I don’t want you to feel obligated to visit me like this. I mean, just because you kissed me doesn’t change anything between us, really.”
“You kissed me back. Heartily. Lengthily.”
Megan wished she could stop the blush she felt warming her cheeks. “All right, so it was a two-way street. The whole thing took me by surprise. Suddenly, we were there, up close and...and it had been a long time since...” She cleared her throat. “At any rate, I shouldn’t have behaved like that. I’m not usually so...so...”
“Responsive? Passionate? Abandoned?”
Good Lord why had she begun this conversation?
“No, I’m not any of those things.” If only he could check with Neal, he’d know that her husband had had to look elsewhere for passion. “I was acting out of character, caught off guard.”
Alex rose, moved to sit on the edge of her bed. “Don’t bother trying to convince me you’re not all of those things. Because I know. I’ve kissed you and I know.”
He spoke with such maddening assurance that she wanted to smack him. Perhaps if she tried another explanation. “Look, I’ve been widowed almost a year and I’ve had a few men try to...to...”
“Get you into bed?”
“Uh, yes. But that’s all they want. Not me, not my son, not a future, just the bedroom scene. They try to get to me through Ryan. They press and push. I’m not interested in those games. I’m not interested, period. Not in you or in any man. I want you to know that.”
“Uh-huh.” He took her hand, found it warm and dry and slightly shaky. “I want to take you to bed, Megan, to test that theory, and for other reasons. But I won’t press. I never press.”
Why would he when women were undoubtedly lining up to warm his bed? Megan thought.
“I won’t even ask you, not until you let me know you want me as much as I want you.”
Determined blue eyes met sea green. “That day will never come,” she said quietly.
Getting to his feet, Alex leaned back down and planted a brief kiss on her forehead before removing her tray. “Never say never, Megan. I’ve got to change clothes for an appointment in town. Grace said to tell you to take a nap and she’ll be up around lunchtime.” He walked out, leaving her with a few things to think over.
 
Alex stood in front of the full-length mirror in his room and examined his image. Blue shirt, gray slacks, loafers, no tie. Businesslike, but not stuffy. Residents of small towns in California, he’d discovered some time ago, seemed suspicious of people dressed too formally. Even lawyers and bankers. Still, a jacket would be in order, he decided as he took his navy sport coat out of the closet.
Whistling, he left his room. At the top of the stairs, he paused, listening. He could hear the shower running in Megan’s room. Yet he knew that Grace had left after breakfast to do the marketing. Had Megan crawled out of bed and hobbled into the shower, risking further injury to that ankle? Had he ever run across a more stubborn woman? Alex asked himself as he took the stairs up to the third floor, two at a time.
 
 
It had seemed like a good idea a few minutes ago, Megan reflected as she leaned against the tiled wall of her shower. She’d hopped on one foot into the bathroom, turned on the jets, stripped off her gown and stepped under the spray. But she’d barely soaped herself before she began to feel light-headed. Probably because she hadn’t had much solid food in two days, she decided as she rinsed off.
Just a few minutes more, she thought, standing with most of her weight on her left leg and straightening to allow the hot water to wet her hair. One-handed, she dribbled on shampoo, then rubbed it in. The steam was clouding her vision, making her dizzy. Bracing an elbow against the wall, she stuck her head under, rinsing out the shampoo. That’s when her good leg started to shake.
Hurriedly, she grabbed the shower door handle and leaned into the door with her eyes closed for several moments. Grace was going to be upset that she hadn’t waited. But the poor soul already had so much to do that it seemed unfair to ask her to nursemaid a grown woman. At last, she took a chance and gingerly hopped out. It was too far to reach over to shut off the water, so she let it be.
Holding on to the wall, Megan made it across the small room and shakily wrapped herself in a thick towel before sitting down on the closed lid of the toilet. Her trembling leg was undoubtedly a nerve reaction. She closed her eyes and tried to take slow, calming breaths. But a sound from the other side of the door drew her attention.
“Megan, are you all right?” The voice was muffled over the noise of the shower, but she knew it belonged to Alex.
“Please,” she answered, “get Grace for me.” A whisper was all that came out, upsetting her further.
“Megan? Can you hear me?” Alex’s imagination had her in a crumpled heap on the floor in a dead faint. “I’m coming in,” he shouted.
“No!” Megan squeaked. But it was too late. The door flew open.
He thought she resembled a drowned waif with her wet hair hanging down and a panicky look on her pale face as she clutched an oversize towel around her slim shoulders. He flipped the switch for the overhead fan, then reached in and shut off the shower. Looking down at her as the steam slowly swirled out of the room, he shook his head. “You just couldn’t wait, could you?”
Megan drew in a deep breath. “Never mind the lecture. Please ask Grace to come up.”
“Sorry, she’s in town running errands. You’re stuck with me.” He saw her shoulders droop and hoped she wouldn’t cry. Grabbing a second towel, he began drying her hair. “How is it you and I always wind up together in steamy bathrooms?” he asked, trying to lighten the mood. But she didn’t smile. Finished, he stepped back and noticed the gown she’d had on earlier lying on her clothes hamper. “I’ll get you some clean clothes.”
BOOK: Stand-In Father (Intimate Moments)
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