Love on Call (5 page)

“While you're sitting there, why don't you start? What did they pick you up for?”

“Kidnapping.”

Mallory whipped around, gripping the cups she had in her hands.

“What?”

“It was a mistake. I was just trying to take a girl to a shelter.”

“Back up,” Mallory said. She put down the cups and sat across from him. “Start at the beginning.”

He told her about his night, about leaving the hospital, feeling restless and finding himself in a run-down district of the city.

“It was late.” He relaxed. “I saw the girl and knew she shouldn't be on the street, especially there. I was going to take her to the shelter I help out in. But she screamed and ran away just as the police arrived.”

Mallory knew how that could look. Night. A child on the street. A man in a car. The police had all the cause they needed.

“Were you charged?”

He shook his head. “I explained who I was and eventually they reached Detective Ryan.”

“Who's Detective Ryan?”

“He's a friend of mine and he knows about me and the shelter. Once they finished talking to him, I was released. But my car had already been impounded, and I can't get it out until morning.”

Mallory heard the gurgling of the coffeepot behind her. She ignored it. She wanted Brad to keep talking.

“What about you and the shelter?”

He got up and removed the pot from the stove, bringing it to the table and filling the mugs. He set the pot between them on a metal plate and added both milk and sugar to his cup. When he'd taken a sip he leaned back and looked at her.

“The hospital is associated with the Home Society Shelter. It's a place for homeless children.”

Mallory knew of it. She'd also known that the hospital had some association with it, but residents weren't part of the medical team that went there. Her concentration was on her career and the coma patients. She'd forgotten about the shelter.

“I'm one of the primary doctors involved, and I often bring kids there who have no place else to go.”

“Detective Ryan knows this?” It was a question, but she already knew the answer.

Brad nodded. “We've both taken kids there for shelter and food.” He took a sip of his coffee, but his eyes didn't leave Mallory. She suddenly felt heat rush through her. The sun was beginning to rise, and through the window next to Brad she could see it
painting the sky above the rooftops. She looked out, to avoid his gaze and the effect it suddenly had on her.

“Tell me more about the shelter,” she said. She really just wanted him to talk. It would get his mind off what had happened earlier and she would learn more about him.

“It's just a place for kids to sleep and get a good meal.”

Mallory knew it was more than that. She also realized that Brad didn't waste a lot of words but he often downplayed things. She was sure this shelter must mean something to him, or else why would he be so involved? What was his connection to it? Was he trying to save someone in particular?

“Do you mostly find children on the streets and take them to the shelter?” Mallory kept her voice low.

He looked at her as if she'd touched a raw nerve, but nodded.

“Were you looking for someone tonight?”

“No one in particular. There are so many. They get lost, die, never have a chance at life. I try to get them help.”

Mallory listened to the tone of his voice, the inflection as he talked about reaching out and trying to save a child. Most people hurried past the homeless, not wanting to see them, not trying to help. Brad searched them out, trying to give them a second chance.

“What about the little girl?”

“She was about twelve, and dirty. She looked ill, but she was belligerent, the way a lot of them are. They have to fend for themselves, steal food, eat out of garbage cans and avoid the law—often for so long that anyone who extends a hand to them is suspect.”

Mallory's heart softened, both for the children and for the man in front of her.

“Do you want to go and search for her now?”

He shook his head. “I'd never find her during the day. These kids are night creatures, hunting in the dark for whatever they can find. During the day they stay hidden in alleys and abandoned buildings. They have a million avenues of escape, and they're agile enough to get away from anyone looking for them.”

When he finished speaking Mallory didn't say anything. She recognized the voice of experience when she heard it. Brad might have been searching the streets for homeless children for years, but nothing could put that tone in his voice except having his own life touched by that same grueling education.

“How old were you?” she asked, again keeping her voice as nonintrusive as possible.

“Nine,” he answered without hesitation. He was no longer looking at her. His mind had gone back to his childhood, a time when he was a kid on the street. “My brother was eleven. My mother left us one day and never came back. We stayed in the apartment as long as we could. Then we slept on the street, hiding by day, eating what we could find at night. For years I searched for her.”

His gaze came back to Mallory—direct, but not
challenging. “But I never found her. I don't know if she's alive or dead, or why she never came back for us.” He leaned forward, his hands cradling the empty mug. “And that's the story of my life.”

It was obvious there was more to his life than that simple statement. His mother had left him, but he'd gone on to become a doctor. Mallory understood more about his attitude now. The huge chip on his shoulder wasn't for the world. It was for one woman, someone he wasn't likely to find.

Brad touched the coffeepot, testing it for heat. Finding it to his liking, he poured another cup.

“How do you feel now?” she asked.

“Better,” he said.

“See?” Mallory smiled one of her rare smiles. “Therapy does work.”

She got up and headed for the door. The sun was tinging the sky, banishing shadows. As Mallory reached the living room, Brad called her name. She turned back as he rose from his chair and came toward her. Mallory watched him move. His stride was sure, predatory, catlike, quiet.

She held her breath. She'd never been this affected by a man before. She lifted her head as he got closer to her, imagining her body rising to meet his, her arms clasping his shoulders, her nipples hardening against his chest.

“Thank you,” he said.

“What?” Mallory hadn't heard him. She was still lost in the fantasy her mind had created.

Brad looked at her. His eyes were softer than she
was used to seeing them. He must be tired, she told herself. His guard was down. He would never look at her like that if he hadn't had such a bad night. She reached up and smoothed her hand along his cheek. She smiled. He needed a shave.

As she went to pull it away, he caught it and held it. Neither of them spoke. Mallory's throat went dry. For a long moment they stared at each other while the silence screamed.

“Get some sleep,” she said, breaking the tension. Then she turned and headed for the chair where she'd left her coat.

“Your turn,” Brad said.

“My turn for what?”

“Tell me your life story.” He stood across the room where she'd left him.

“That's a tale for another night.” If she was lucky there wouldn't be another night for her to share her life with him. She pointed at the coffee cup in his hand. “You should get some sleep.”

“Sure.” He hunched a shoulder. Mallory recognized the gesture. It was purely male, something guys learned from their fathers or from each other. When they weren't all right they still said they were. Mallory assumed she and Brad had both revealed something of themselves to the other, and it was enough for one night.

“I'll be leaving then.”

Something glimmered in his eyes, and Mallory felt that pull, that connection she'd experienced earlier in the night. She turned from it, looking about the living
room. The curtains were drawn and the space was darker than the kitchen.

Mallory was struck by the neatness of the place. It didn't smell musty or closed in. There was a coziness about it, like a huge Christmas tree should grace the corner and a family should come down the stairs to mounds of presents. She detected little dust on the tables. There was a huge fireplace with remnants of ashes from a recent blaze. A portrait of several children hung over it and the mantel held several photos of the same people at various ages.

“Family?” she asked, continuing to look at the portrait.

He came up behind her. Mallory felt the heat of him as he stopped.

“My brothers and sisters.”

“I thought you only had a brother.”

“We were all adopted,” he explained.

Mallory turned before she thought about how close he was. They had been together for several hours tonight, but suddenly everything was different. Before, he had needed her. He'd needed someone to talk to, someone to share in the pain of the evening's circumstances. Now he was a male alone with a female. Mallory felt the danger of the situation. She didn't want to start anything she couldn't carry through.

Brad stared at her. She watched his eyes run over her face and shoulders. His eyes strayed downward to her breasts, which tingled as if he'd touched them, before coming back to her face. “Do you have to go in to work?” he asked.

“I'm off today.” She should have told him something else. She didn't need to give him any details that said she was free and available. Why, she didn't know. He represented danger, and Mallory was good at skirting danger, staying away from it, away from men who could upset her balanced life. She was grateful that she could return home and resume her night's sleep. She had planned to run errands this morning. The errands could wait now.

“So am I,” he said.

Mallory felt her mouth go dry.

“I have to go in and check on a few things this afternoon.”

“Good thing,” she said, more to herself than him. “You can get some sleep before you have to see any patients.”

She picked up her coat. Brad immediately took it from her. She felt the warmth of his hands as he briefly touched her. He didn't hold it for her to put it on, but said, “Thank you, Mallory. I appreciate you getting out of bed for me.”

Damn, she cursed inwardly. If he kept saying things like that she wasn't going to need a coat. Her body was already hot, and his comment infused it with a shot of fire that went straight into her bloodstream.

“You don't have to worry about the hospital. I won't discuss this with anyone there.” Her voice was slightly higher than normal.

He smiled. Mallory so seldom saw him smile, and it completely transformed his face. She couldn't say
he was beautiful. He wasn't, but he was the best-looking man she had ever seen. Mostly she saw him in hospital whites. He was now wearing a shirt that pulled across broad shoulders and tapered to a thin waist. His jeans molded strong legs, and made Mallory want to feel the length of them against her own. She turned away, expecting him to open her coat.

He laid it back on the sofa. She faced him again, but took a step backward. Electricity flared between them, vibrant and alive. Her ears were so hot she was sure they would singe her hair.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

He stared at her, and after a long minute finally said, “Stay.”

Mallory weighed that single word, turning it over in her mind. Stay and talk to me? Stay because I don't want to be alone? Stay and let me get to know you? Stay and make love with me? He could mean any of them. She shook her head slowly, trying to make herself believe she wanted to leave.

Brad took a step forward. Mallory closed her eyes and held her breath a moment. It didn't help that she could visualize him even with her eyes closed. It didn't help that the scent of him filled her nostrils and tantalized her. She opened her eyes. Brad picked up her coat and held it out. Mallory didn't move. Relief that he wasn't going to press her rooted her to the spot. It was a short-lived reprieve. Part of her wanted him to stop her. Part of her wanted him to take her in his arms and return her to that dream place she'd been in before.

Brad stepped forward until his feet were toe-to-toe with hers. Heat swirled around them as he put the coat around her shoulders and pulled it closed, imprisoning her. She looked up into his eyes. They were dark pools, reminding her of a midnight sky flung with stars. They were fathomless to Mallory. She felt as if she was going to fall.

She grabbed for his arm to steady herself, but the coat hampered her and her hand found his waist and slipped. She tried to catch herself. In less than a second Brad's arms closed around her. He pulled her to him and his mouth found hers with unerring accuracy, his kiss immediately hot and devastating. Mallory had no time or inclination to resist. She ran her hands around him and gave herself up to emotions that raged out of control.

Mallory had dreamed of being in Brad's arms, had even thought herself there in reality when coming out of a dream. But this was no apparition. Her coat was an encumbrance. Brad took a second to pull it from her shoulders and drop it to the floor. He turned her into his body, resuming possession of her lips in mutual satisfaction. She tasted coffee as his tongue swept into her mouth, causing a riot in her bloodstream. She clung to him, helpless to stop her passionate, almost aggressive response.

She wanted to get closer. She could feel the muscles of his back under her questing hands. Each time she moved them, he groaned. Mallory shifted and her body came in contact with his arousal. Brad's moan held a mixture of pain and pleasure. She pressed even
closer and he moved his hands lower, lifting her against him.

Her breath was coming in short gasps, her mind whirling. What had happened to her? To them? She was supposed to be leaving, going home to her own bed. Now she wanted only to get into his.