The Passion of Patrick MacNeill (12 page)

It was a warning. "I see. Thank you.
Sharon
."

"Don't mention it, honey." Brushing her hands, the nurse walked to the door. "For what it's worth, I don't think they should do the operation either."

"Did you say so?"

Sharon
's eyes widened mockingly. "And risk a reprimand?"

Kate sighed.
"Right."

The tall nurse's warrior-maiden face softened. "Look, it's not my place to say. It's none of my business. But you might want to steer clear of MacNeills for a while."

"Even good-looking ones in the waiting room?"
Kate asked dryly.

Sharon
sniffed.
"Maybe
especially
good-looking ones in the waiting room."

"Thanks. I appreciate the advice."

At least, Kate corrected
herself,
she appreciated the nurse's concern. She hadn't counted on
Sharon
as an ally, and the knowledge that the nurse thought highly enough of her to warn her was sweet.

But could she really stay away from the MacNeill men? Did she want to?

She thumbed an antacid off the roll in her pocket and sucked it thoughtfully. For almost twenty years, for all her life it seemed, she'd struggled to prove to herself and everyone else that she could make it as a surgeon. Her mother had always suggested she make the most of the brains God gave her, since He hadn't seen fit to bless her with looks. And she was good, dammit. Surgery defined her, empowered her,
rewarded
her as nothing and no one else ever had. Was the limited physical relationship which was all that Patrick offered worth the risk to her career?

Regretfully, Kate decided it was not.

Chapter 8

«
^
»

H
is lips were warm and firm and open. Perfect. His big, callused hands stroked over her shoulders to close gently on her breasts. In her bed, Kate shifted and sighed, her head tilting, her own hands fisting on the sheets.

The phone rang and woke her up.

Kate struggled to roll over, fighting sleep and annoyance and the seductive memory of Patrick's lips, Patrick's hands. Damn it. She wasn't on call tonight.

"Amy, this better be good."

"Sorry, Kate."
The voice on the other end of the line was male and apologetic.
"Not Amy, and not good, either."

Her heart thumped.
Patrick?
But no, this voice was rougher, younger, more like…

"Sean?" She identified him into the receiver.
"Yeah.
Look, I'm sorry to be calling so late. I didn't know what else to do."

Worry propelled her upright. She shoved her hair out of her eyes. "That's okay. Is it Jack? Is he all right?"

"He's fine."

Oh, Lord
. "Patrick?"

"Fine."
Sean's hesitation hummed down the line. Kate bit back the impulse to fire questions at the phone, to diagnose the cause of his trouble. They weren't in her examining room now. "Look, I've got to ask you a favor."

"Go ahead."

"Could you watch Jack for me? Our dad's in the hospital, and I've got to get home."

"I'm so sorry," she said automatically.

She wasn't expecting this. You agreed to be his backup, she reminded herself, and
was
deeply grateful Patrick had introduced them at least. "Was your father sick?" she asked.

"No. He started complaining his chest hurt, and then his arm went numb. Mom's pretty upset. She made him go to the hospital after dinner, and, well, they admitted him."

Kate's mind raced. "Preexisting heart condition?"

"I don't know. We didn't think so." She heard his frustration, his fear, and sympathy welled in her at the change from the easy-going pirate she'd first met. "Con's with them," he continued, "but, jeez … I've got to be there."

She understood the claims of family, even a fractured one. And in a clan as close as the MacNeills appeared to be, the illness of their patriarch must strike hard. Kate yawned, struggling to think. She was off for the day. She could sacrifice a little sleep to watch Jack until Patrick returned. Surely it wouldn't take a pilot with his own plane more than a day to get back home.

"All right.
Um, does your brother know?"

"Coast guard's radioing him. There are no phones on the island. I'm sure he'll call you as soon as he can."

Her sympathy ratcheted up a notch. It didn't seem right for family man Patrick to learn of his father's condition from strangers. Then it struck her. Did Patrick know Sean was handing over his son to her care?

"Maybe you should call his partner," she suggested.

"I did. Ray's taking over the charter return. But Shelby, his wife is really pregnant. I can't leave Jack with her."

He sounded close to panic. "No, of course not," Kate soothed.

"You're my backup," Sean said plaintively.

In her memory, Patrick's deep voice echoed:
This isn't medical, Kate
. And she heard her own reply:
He can call any time.

"Right," she said, resigned. "What do you need?"

"I've got a chance at a six forty-five flight to Boston through JFK," Sean said.
"Gets me in around
noon
.
If I could bring Jack over early…"

Kate squinted at her bedside clock. It was almost three in the morning. She rubbed her face with her hand, trying to wake up, her brain clicking over possibilities. "No, I'll drive out there. You shouldn't haul Jack out of bed. Besides, I know the way, and you don't."

His gust of relief made her smile. "Good.
Great.
Thanks. Thanks a lot."

Kate covered the receiver as she yawned again. "It's no problem," she lied. "What time do you need to leave?"

"Five?"

Which meant, Kate thought glumly, she'd have to leave her apartment by four.
"No problem," she repeated.

She listened to more thanks before hanging up, pushed Blackwell off the bed, and headed for the shower.

* * *

Kate was both amused and disgusted to see that neither worry nor lack of sleep dimmed the incredible MacNeill good looks. Sean's eyes were bright, his hair attractively ruffled. His overnight stubble made him look more like a pirate than ever.

"I really appreciate this," he said, turning on his way out the door.

His black athletic bag swung, hitting her.

"Ouch." Kate rubbed her hipbone, feeling rumpled and tired. "Don't mention it."

"Jack's asleep," he repeated for the third or fourth time. "Important numbers are by the phone. Patrick has a message to call here."

"Fine.
Now go, or you'll miss your flight."

"Right."
She was enveloped briefly in a hard male embrace, her nose squashed to his soft shirt front. Surprise kept her immobile. "You're a doll, Kate.
Patrick'
s
a
lucky
bastard
."

She blinked at the paneled door as it closed behind him, flattered, touched and bewildered.

Don't let it get to you, Katie Sue, she lectured herself. That boy would hug his grandmother if the old lady were helping him out of a jam. In fact, that's probably how he thinks of you, as a pleasant older woman he can wile into doing him a favor. His brother's current female domestic.

She must have been crazy to agree to this.
Or tired and too susceptible to the MacNeill brand of charm.
Patrick had asked her for backup, but he couldn't have anticipated interference on this scale. Would he even want her moving into his lair to watch his son? Did she want to be his nanny-on-call?

Kate had learned her lesson the hard way. Men found her attractive in direct proportion to how useful she could be. Hadn't Wade proven that when they were residents together, when she'd researched his cases and covered his shifts and warmed his meals and his bed?

All the same, she discovered, it wasn't totally unpleasant to be of use to the MacNeill men, to be included in their masculine family circle. At least she had no illusions about why they wanted her around.
If
Patrick really wanted her around. Wryly, she hoped she could live up to Sean's confidence in her as a baby-sitter. She was an excellent surgeon and a competent aunt, but the fine points of caring for a four-and-a-half-year-old boy for an extended time might be beyond her.

Rubbing absently at her stomach, Kate went into the kitchen to brew herself coffee and rustle up breakfast for Jack.

* * *

Cold cereal, she thought, surveying the boxes lining the pantry shelf. Perfect. Jack could pick his favorite and all she'd need to add was milk.

Satisfied with her solution to breakfast, Kate was hunting for spoons when the telephone shrilled. She flew across the kitchen to answer it before the ringing woke Jack.

"
Hello
? Um,
MacNeills
."

"Kate. Are you all right?"

The sound of that deep, smooth voice in the private morning hour made her heart hammer in her chest. She straightened her shoulders. "Yes, of course. Patrick, I'm so sorry—"

"How's Jack?" He interrupted her expression of sympathy.
"Fine.
Asleep, actually.
I checked on him about half an hour ago."

"Okay. I can be home in about four hours. If it's not too much trouble, can you give him breakfast? I'll pack for him when I get there."

He sounded distracted. Tense. Kate swallowed her annoyance at his abruptness, reminding herself that naturally Patrick was distressed about his father.

"Of course I can give him breakfast. Why do you need to pack? Pack for where?"

"
Boston
,"
came
the clipped reply. "I'm taking him with me."

Kate's hand tightened on the receiver. "Why?"

She heard his sharp intake of breath, but he explained patiently, control stamped on his voice. "I just got off the phone with my mother. They're still running tests, but it looks like Dad's going to need an angioplasty."

So it was his father's heart. Her doctor's brain considered the options.
"Stroke?"

"They don't know yet.
Maybe not."

"When's the surgery?"

"Monday, probably.
I can't let them face that alone."

His bleak tone tore at her. As a surgeon, she confronted countless families with good news and bad. But as a woman, she felt totally inadequate to solace him. She struggled for words that would help. "Sean—"

"Went up already.
I know.
And left you holding Jack.
I should break his neck. Kate, I'm sorry."

"I'm fine," she insisted, hoping he wasn't also thinking of breaking hers.

"He shouldn't have bothered you."

"You gave him my number," she told him reasonably and more confidently than she felt.

"Well, I shouldn't have."

His man-in-charge attitude was beginning to grate on her.
"For heaven's sake, why not?"

"You're too busy."

"I have the day off."

"It's still not right."

This was getting them nowhere. He needed help, and she could provide it.
"Why not?
What do you think I'm going to do to him? Admit him to the hospital?"

Silence.

"I meant," Patrick said tightly, "that I didn't want to impose."

"Well, you're not. Imposing, I mean."

"Sure?"

"Sure."

"I see." Did she imagine it, or was there the faintest trace of amusement in his tone?

Kate bit her lip as second thoughts assailed her. "Of course, if you feel I'm not qualified…"

"Come off it, Kate. You're the most qualified person I know."

"I didn't mean medically."

"Neither did
I
."

Pleasure at the unexpected compliment bloomed in her chest. "Oh. Well, thank you."

"Thank you. You'll do great. Jack likes you."

Another charged silence hummed through the line.

"So I'll see you in about four hours," Patrick said.

She heard the preoccupation return to his voice and thought of what faced him in
Boston
. He could cope, she reminded herself. He had lots of experience in coping.

And suddenly merely keeping Jack for a few hours until Patrick could get home didn't seem nearly enough.

Kate cleared her throat and took a risk. "Do you really want to take Jack with you?"

"Sorry?"

She plowed ahead over his surprise and her own self-doubt. "Well, it's just… He's probably had enough of hospitals. You'll be tied up with your parents and the doctors. He might be better off at home."

"Yeah, maybe.
But there's no one to watch him.
Shelby
—"

"I could stay with him."

"Kate." He sounded shaken. "I can't possibly ask you to—"

The deep note in his voice gave her courage to continue. "You're not asking. I said I'd do it. I watch Billy and Jenny all the time."

"Yeah, and you don't need another parasite like your sister in your life," Patrick muttered.

"It would be better for Jack to stick to his routine." She didn't argue it would be easier for Patrick as well. "I can do his exercises with him. And you could concentrate on your mother."

She held her breath.

"You know, honey," Patrick said slowly, and now she could plainly hear his smile, "if this thing between us is going to take off, you've got to get over this habit of being right all the time."

"Is that yes?" she asked cautiously.

"That is yes and thank-you-very-much."

"Well." She
exhaled,
relief and pleasure relaxing her lungs.
"All right."

His voice became brisk, commanding. "I'll fly direct to
Boston
, then Ray's
coming out tomorrow to pick up my party, but if you need
anything, his number's posted by—"

"By the phone," Kate finished. "I know."

"Right.
My parents' number is there, too, but my guess is we'll be at the hospital. Medical authorization is on the mantel along with spending money. Jack's physical therapy schedule is on the fridge.
Every hour on the hour, if you can manage it.
You've got to help him with passive range of motion. If he—"