House Calls: Callaghan Brothers, Book 3 (6 page)

The truth was, Michael was stalling, because he wasn’t quite sure how to answer her question.  He had been asking the same one of himself all night long.  He had checked on her periodically through the night and each time, she was resting comfortably.  But he had stayed anyway.  It was the strangest thing.  Even though he knew he should head back to the Pub, he just couldn’t bring himself to do so.  He was feeling oddly... protective.

“I couldn’t leave you here alone in the state you were in,” he answered finally, gesturing for her to eat.

“I see.”  She kept her expression neutral, but warring emotions swirled in her eyes.  Such pretty green eyes.  “Well, Dr. Callaghan,” she said carefully, “caring for others is obviously more than just a profession for you.  I can’t say I’ve encountered anyone quite as dedicated.  I’m sorry I caused you so much trouble.”

Michael’s eyes narrowed.  Perceptive as he was, he wasn’t quite sure how to take her words.  Her tone wasn’t cold, exactly, but neither did it hold the natural warmth he’d already come to expect from her.  Instead it was shielded, cautious, and... confused? 

He studied her from beneath his lashes as he leaned back against the counter and sipped his coffee, trying to formulate an appropriate reply.  Surely he hadn’t imagined her physical response to him just moments ago.  She found him attractive – all the signs were there.  The lovely flush that made her skin glow; the shallow, hitched breaths; the rapid, forceful pulse hammering just below the delicate curve of her jaw. 

She had a profound effect on him as well, enough that he felt the need to cross the room and put a little distance between them.  Michael had never had a problem examining a patient before, and as exams went, this one was pretty innocuous.  He’d always had the ability to separate business from pleasure, but with Maggie, those usually clear, solid lines blurred.  How could he not look into those eyes and start to lose himself?  How could he touch the heated silk of her flesh and not feel his own heart rev in response?

It was more than just a purely physical reaction, though, and that’s what was causing that odd little sensation in his chest.  It was the emotional distance she seemed to be putting between them that he objected to more than anything.  Until now, she seemed to be relatively at ease – if not entirely comfortable – with his presence.  She had trusted him enough to allow him to drive her home, to enter her home, and to let him close enough to examine her (he refused to accept that she had done so due solely to the influence of alcohol or blunt force trauma). 

And when she’d walked into the kitchen and found him there earlier, there had been no fear, no anger, no disappointment.  Just surprise and, he could have sworn, delighted surprise at that.  So where was this polite, unaffected response coming from?  Two things he knew for sure – one, this wasn’t the real Maggie, and two, he didn’t like it.

The answer dawned on him as she sat there, arms drawn in tightly and resting on her lap, looking up at him with genuine bafflement.  She had asked him why he was here, and his response had been as non-committal as he could make it, falling back on his profession as an excuse, when in truth, it was far simpler than that:  He’d stayed because he wanted to.  He liked being here with her, in her cozy, warm kitchen.  He liked caring for her.  Hell, he even liked her dog.  And she didn’t seem to comprehend any of it. 

She has no self-confidence
.  Sherri’s words came back to him, seemingly more apropos to Maggie’s behavior this morning than last night.  But surely a woman like Maggie was used to male attention, wasn’t she?  And how was he going to rectify the situation, convince her that he was here for more than just a professional obligation without coming across as a psycho?

It would take time.  And patience.  And effort.  He quickly decided she was worth it.  No other woman had struck such a chord within him in so short a time, and that had to mean something.  After witnessing what happened to two of his brothers over the past two years, he had to at least consider the possibility that lightning had struck the Callaghan clan for the third time.  For now, however, he offered what he hoped she would accept at face value. 

“Call me Michael, please.  And it was no trouble.”

“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful.  You’ve been more than kind.” 

Her eyes were doing that flashing thing again, momentarily losing focus and then slamming back with astounding clarity.  It fascinated him to no end.  He’d noticed the same thing last night as she sat at the bar waiting for her turn to dance.  He’d give anything to know what was going through her mind right then.  Maybe with a little luck and a lot of persistence she would learn to trust him with her thoughts.  He had a feeling he would be on a very short list if she did.

“It’s very easy to be kind to you,” Michael said before he could stop himself.  Worried that he had said too much, he watched her reaction carefully.  Her eyes widened just a bit, then her facial expression softened, allowing him to glimpse the woman he had seen beneath all of the sparkle the night before.  The woman that had him hanging around all night, because he had to know if he had imagined the inexplicable effect she’d had on him.  He hadn’t.  It was here, in spades, stronger than ever.

“You know, Michael, I think that’s one of the nicest things anyone ever said to me.  Thank you.”  The natural warmth was back in her voice, and it spread through him like sunshine.  That, he could work with. 

“It’s the truth,” he shrugged, but he was pleased.  “And you should eat.”  He pushed the plate a little closer.

* * *

E
at?  As if she could.  Her stomach had so many butterflies in it at that moment she wouldn’t be able to swallow a single bite.  She did manage to take a sip of coffee, though.  And damn if it wasn’t the best she’d ever had.  Her eyes closed momentarily as she savored the rich, full flavor.  He’d already added sugar and cream, exactly the way she liked it.

“This came out of my coffee pot?” she asked incredulously.  He nodded, a heart-stopping grin curving those sensual male lips yet again.   

“It’s wonderful,” she said truthfully, but even that made her stomach clench in warning.  She put the mug back onto the table.  He glanced expectantly at her plate.  She looked at it uncertainly.  She didn’t want to offend him, but she didn’t want to embarrass herself, either.

“Are you feeling nauseous?” he asked.

Maggie bit her lip.  Was she?  No, she thought, this was different.  She was fairly certain her stomach was doing that funny flipping thing because of
him
, not because of her unfortunate tumble. 

“No, I don’t think so.”

Michael raised an eyebrow.  He pulled a small light out of his pocket and leaned over her in what was becoming a familiar move.  Part of her was annoyed, but another part longed for the closeness it brought with it.  At this range she could clearly see the dark shadow along his jaw and feel the heat radiating from his body.  Also rather disorienting was the familiar peppermint scent of his breath, now infused with coffee, and, if she wasn’t mistaken, a few of her cookies as well. 

She shuddered.  As gorgeous and intense as he was, it just wasn’t fair that he smelled like cookies now, too.  How could she even hope to resist him for any length of time?

Her hopes that he hadn’t noticed were quickly dashed.  “Are you cold?  Do you have chills?” he asked, stepping back again.  That move put her at eye-level with his hips.  Her eyes widened as she caught a completely accidental glimpse of what his jeans held within.  And that was unaroused. 
Oh my
.

“No.”  She shivered again, her face pinkening even more as she averted her eyes.

“Maybe we should get you back to bed.”  Was it her imagination, or was his voice a bit lower than before?  He moved in close again, his hand touched lightly upon her brow as if to check for a fever.

“Um, no, not a good idea.” 

The words “we” and “bed” should not be coming out of his mouth as part of the same sentence, she decided.  It made the butterflies in her stomach flutter even faster, not to mention send yet another rush of heat toward the center of her body.  She squirmed uncomfortably.

Michael raised an eyebrow, folding his arms in front of his chest.  Odd how such a small gesture commanded such authority.  Even odder was the fact that she felt the need to explain herself.  As a general rule, she didn’t.

“I mean, there’s no reason I should lay around in bed all day.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said slowly.  “I could think of a few.”  One side of his mouth lifted, and she felt her face burn. 
Damn
.

“A concussion, for one,” he finished slyly.

She finally saw the glint of amusement in his eyes.  The sexy bastard was having a little fun with her!  Maggie probably should have felt irritated, but she realized she had brought it all upon herself with her wicked imagination.  She’d left the door wide open in blatant invitation; it was no wonder he had stepped right in. 

“I don’t have a concussion,” she said firmly.

“Is that your professional opinion, doctor?”  He made no effort to hide his amusement any longer.

“As a matter of fact, it is,” she said, but even she was having trouble containing the grin that threatened to show itself.  “Besides, I have George to think of.”

They both looked over at the beefy hound, now dozing on a big doggie bed pillow in the far corner by the old-fashioned radiator.  He could at least have the decency to back her up, Maggie thought, by looking pathetically hungry, or at the very least dancing at the back door to go out.

As if reading her mind, Michael said, “I fed him this morning, gave him some fresh water, had him out.  We played a little ball.”

She blinked at him in disbelief.  “He brought you his favorite ball?  The green squeaky one with the yellow star?”  She couldn’t remember when the last time was George had wanted to play with anyone besides her.  Painfully shy, the dog usually made himself scarce when anyone else was around.  But he seemed to have taken an instant like to Michael.   

“Yes.”  George opened his eyes for a few moments and yawned, then laid his head back down.  “He’s a great dog.”

Well, well, well.  The fact that Michael had cared for George spoke volumes about the type of man he was in her eyes.  As a doctor he might have felt compelled to take care of her after her injury, but there was no reason he would have felt the need to care for her dog.  And the most amazing thing? George actually
liked
him.  Twelve years of Catholic school nagged at the back of her head, peskily insisting that it had to be a
sign
.

“Thank you.” 

“My pleasure.”  He looked pointedly back at the plate again.  “Now eat, please.  I’m starting to doubt my culinary skills.”

“Well, we certainly can’t have you doubting yourself.”  Maggie picked up a piece of toast and took a small bite.  Thankfully, her stomach didn’t revolt and she took another.  With each one, she began to feel a bit better.  The toast was followed closely by the scrambled eggs – done perfectly, fluffy but not in the least bit runny, and the bacon.  It took a while, but she managed to eat nearly everything in between sips of that liquid nectar he modestly referred to as coffee.

“This is incredible,” she said around her last bite of toast.  “Geez, you’re a doctor, a bartender, and a great cook.  Is there anything you can’t do?”

“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” he said, winking.  “This is the only meal I can make.  If you are craving anything else, you’re totally on your own.”

“Good thing I like bacon and eggs, then,” she said, then caught herself.  She had no business suggesting this would ever happen again.  Michael, thankfully, didn’t give any indication that he had noticed.

“I
s there anything else I can get for you?”

Maggie couldn’t help but laugh from deep within the nest he had created for her on the sofa out of a multitude of pillows and a down comforter.  Remotes for the television and DVD sat within reach, along with a selection of movies and books.  A glass of water, along with some fresh fruit, crackers and cheese were there, too, as well as her cordless house and cell phones. 

Michael had insisted on sticking around until she had emerged unscathed from a shower, donning fresh, comfortable clothes and fuzzy socks.  George was snuggled up on the far end of the couch, snoring loudly.  The fire was blazing, and he’d already brought in enough wood to last for several days at least. 

The sound was like music to his heart.  It made the pain he felt at seeing her bruising flesh and stiff movements a little more bearable.

“No, Michael,” she said, grinning.  At first she had resisted just about every attempt he made to do something for her, but apparently she had recognized that he was not easily dissuaded and that it was easier to just go along with him on some things.  Smart woman.

“I think you’ve thought of everything.”

Not everything.  He couldn’t seem to think of a good enough excuse to stick around for a while longer.  He
should
leave, but once again, he simply didn’t want to.

“You’re sure?”  He looked around, hoping for something, anything more he could do. 

“You are spoiling me rotten,” she teased.  “I’m not used to this kind of attention.”

“Now, see, that’s just not right.  Every beautiful woman should have a man to care for her.”

“Not all women need men to take care of them,” she said.  Was it his imagination, or did her voice have a breathy quality it hadn’t had earlier?

“No,” he said slowly, drawing the word out.  “I suppose that is true.”  Maybe Maggie counted herself among those women.  He would have to change that. 

“Although,” she said, with a twinkle in her eye, “I have yet to meet a man who can say the same.”

“Ouch.”  Michael widened his eyes in mock umbrage, placing his hand over his heart, making Maggie laugh again.  “I’m quite wounded.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”  When Maggie smiled, his whole body felt lighter somehow. 

“But you do make a good point.  A man is always better with a good woman beside him.”  He let his gaze hold hers just long enough to see the lovely flush darkening her cheeks again.  Her eyes lowered shyly.  Something strong and powerful coursed through his veins, made his dick as hard as stone.