The Lone Wolf's Craving

Backing out of talking to Kate seemed pretty selfish in the face of it all. He made a quick decision. “About that favor you asked for. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll give it a shot. I’ll need you to sign the paperwork, so I have an excuse to approach her.”

His friend’s eyes closed for a second and he took a deep breath before looking back at him. “Thank you. I owe you.”

No. He didn’t. And that was exactly the point.

* * *

Kate frowned as she took the envelope from the man at the front desk. It couldn’t be from her father back in Memphis, he’d have simply emailed her if he couldn’t reach her. And she didn’t know anyone in London except Nick.

Oh, and one very enigmatic doctor.

And she didn’t even know him. Just that he made her pulse explode...along with other things. Things she was trying very hard to forget.

Walking toward the twin elevators, she slid a thumb beneath the seal of the envelope and popped open the tab. A single sheet of paper was inside.

Could you call me when you get in? I’m at

20-5555-6731

Thanks, Dr. Lucas Blackman

A wave of panic went through her before she realized it probably wasn’t anything related to Nick’s health. If it were, he wouldn’t have left a note. Then she gulped as she remembered his parting shot from yesterday. This couldn’t be about her panties, could it? She’d prefer he just burn them and be done with it. It was just too humiliating to talk about over the phone. Or in person, for that matter.

But if she didn’t call, she’d always wonder.

She wasn’t sure what kept her from booking a flight out of London. She’d done what she’d come to do: looked her father in the eye and drawn her own conclusions. She’d expected that to be fairly quick and easy, but nothing had gone the way she’d planned.

Nick wasn’t the type of person she’d braced herself to find. He hadn’t denied being her father—which surprised her—but then again it was kind of hard to deny the obvious. But there was something in his face that made her want to take a step back and rethink her position. Especially in the face of all those other letters she’d found in the shoebox. Did the man who’d raised her even know about those other men?

She hardened her heart. If those closest to her hadn’t thought twice about lying to her, why not the man who’d contributed nothing to her life other than his DNA?

Her mom had been trying to spare her feelings, she was sure. But surely with all her grandparents’ money, her mother would have been able to track Nick down and tell him about the pregnancy. Or about the baby, once she’d been born. So why hadn’t she?

Her mother wasn’t here to answer any of those questions. Maybe she would have told her someday, but had never gotten the chance.

Or maybe she knew something about Nick that was so terrible she hadn’t wanted her daughter to have any contact with him. Maybe Nick had...forced her, or something.

She stepped off the elevator. No, she had found the note Nick had left the next morning. He wouldn’t have done that if something bad had happened between him and her mother. And her mother certainly wouldn’t have saved a picture of them together had that been the case.

Unlocking her door, she went into her room and dropped her purse on the bed. Her suitcase was still packed, sitting on the mahogany luggage rack. She could just shut the lid and leave with everything she’d come with.

Except answers. And, of course, one pair of panties.

Ugh. She smoothed out the note and traced her finger over the bold strokes of handwriting, smiling at the typical doctorlike scribbles. Luckily she’d had to decipher many notes like these during her physical therapy training, and later, with actual patients, to understand what their doctors wanted.

There was nothing for it but to call and find out what he wanted.

She punched the number that would allow her to reach an outside line and then dialed the rest of the digits listed on the note.

“Blackman here.”

His voice sounded sharp, hurried. “Oh, I’m sorry. You left me a—”

“Kate?” His tone immediately changed. Softened. “I didn’t expect you to call so soon.”

She blinked and glanced at the note again. No time stamp. Was it possible he’d left it only a short time ago? “Oh, I...I just got in.”

“Listen, I’m swamped right now. But basically your father’s listed you as next of kin and has given me permission to fill you in, if you’ve got some free time.”

“I can be there in a half hour.”

There was a pause. “Can we do it somewhere else? I have something of yours I need to return, and I’d rather it not be at the hospital.”

If only he’d been that conscientious a couple of days ago.

And meeting him in her hotel room was out of the question. Not because she didn’t trust him but because she didn’t trust herself. If she’d have sex with him in a public hospital, what would stop her from peeling his clothes off in a private room?

“How about a restaurant?” No, not a restaurant, dummy. “I mean a coffee shop.”

“A restaurant sounds great.” He said something to someone with him then came back to her. “I’ve really got to go. I’ll pick you up when I get off. Say around six this evening.”

“Oh, um...”

“Say yes, Kate.” His voice had gone all soft and gravelly, and she shivered. It was almost identical to the tone he’d used in the supply room. Do you want this, Kate?

She had. She’d said the word that had unleashed them both. And damn if she wasn’t about to say it all over again.

“Yes.”

CHAPTER THREE

LUKE TURNED HIS car into the hotel, giving a soft whistle as he did. He’d heard of The Claymont—knew it was exclusive and pricey—but had never had any reason to visit before now.

Towering white columns framed an ornate cobblestone driveway, the swirling pattern in the black-and-white marble chips echoing the curve of the entryway. An intricate coat of arms placed in the middle reminded him of the X on a celebrity red carpet, giving vehicles a definite stopping point. The place oozed opulence—from the lion’s-head fountain on a side wall, which splashed water into a rustic concrete trough, to the red-coated doorman who emerged from the interior of the hotel to greet him.

Kate had money. Lots of it.

Which might explain their encounter the other day. Maybe she was one of those cute socialites who got their kicks out of toying with danger.

And their time in that supply closet had definitely been dangerous. It had pushed the boundaries, even for him.

But he also remembered her hesitancy that first day at the entrance of the hospital. She hadn’t acted like a spoiled little rich girl.

Maybe her mom had married into money. Nick said Kate’s father knew she wasn’t his biological daughter, so her mother hadn’t used an unwanted pregnancy to trick anyone into marrying her.

She hadn’t lied about it.

Except to Kate, evidently. It had to be rough having your world suddenly turned on its head.

He handed the keys of his little MGB to the valet.

“I won’t be long,” he said.

“Very good, sir.”

The front entrance welcomed him, the double doors swishing open with a quiet hiss. What the hell would he do if she invited him up to her room?

It was a question he’d never thought he’d have to ask himself. But Nick was her father, so there would be no more supply closets...and definitely no hotel rooms in his future. He could keep his hands off her, really he could.

“May I help you, sir?”

The guy at the front desk was just as smooth and refined as he’d expected. “I’m here to see Kate Bradley.”

“One moment.” He tapped some buttons on his computer keyboard, but just as he was picking up the handset to dial her room, the elevator doors pinged and Kate herself emerged.

The air left his lungs, just as it had the first time he’d seen her. It wasn’t so much the way she was dressed as the way she carried herself—although the dark jeans clung in all the right places and the dark green halter-top left her pale shoulders exposed, revealing a smattering of freckles.

“Sorry, I wasn’t sure where we were going,” she said when she reached him.

That soft drawl slid over his body like warm silk. Again.

He noticed the guy behind the desk just stood there, the phone still gripped in his hand. So Luke wasn’t the only one who thought the whole damn package was irresistible. When he turned his eyes toward the other man and lifted his brows, the guy put the phone down with a quick click, his face turning red. “Can I get you anything, Ms. Bradley?”

How about a fire extinguisher, so she can put you out?

As if he himself was any better at containing that particular fire.

One side of his mouth quirked. Was Nick absolutely sure this was his kid? Because he just wasn’t seeing the resemblance.

Kate smiled at the desk clerk, hiking the shiny metal links of her purse onto her shoulder. “I think I’m good. Thank you, though.”

No thinking needed. She was good.

Giving himself an internal eye roll, he motioned toward the door. “Are you ready? I know a place a couple of miles from here.”

Once in his little car and heading down the road, he noticed Kate flinching periodically as they passed other cars.

“It still seems so strange to be driving on the left. I keep thinking someone is going to honk at us. Or worse.”

“You get used to it.” Not that she was going to be here long enough for that. So exactly how was he supposed to shine up Nick’s halo while avoiding tarnishing his own any further? By returning that little article of clothing she’d left behind a few days ago? “There’s a paper bag in the glove box. You might want to take it with you.”

She tugged on her seat belt as if needing a bit more breathing space and stared at the latch in front of her. “I think I’ll wait until we get back to the hotel, if that’s okay. My purse is pretty small.”

She knew exactly what was in there. He’d had half a mind to take the easy way out and toss the panties into the garbage, but he hadn’t. Luke had never been one to shy away from things that were uncomfortable, even when it had come to his folks’ poverty...his dad’s drunken anger. He’d just stood there and faced it down unblinking. “Don’t forget them. I’d hate the wrong person to go digging through that glove box.”

“Like your next conquest?”

Maybe she’d gotten wind of his reputation, as well. He really was going to have to appear a whole lot more boring at work. “I was thinking more along the lines of Nick—your father.”

Kate’s face drained of all color and she turned to stare at him. “You promised you wouldn’t say anything about that.”

Hell, the woman really didn’t think much of him, did she? Luke rarely gave his word, but when he did, he moved hell and high water to keep it. He’d learned the hard way that most promises were quick on the tongue and easily broken. Not by him, though.

And yet he’d made two pretty big promises in the last couple of days. One to Nick and one to his daughter. “I already told you I’m not going to tell him.”

He stopped for a red light, shifting down to first gear and glancing over at her. “What happened at the hospital stays between the two of us—no one’s going to hear it from me.”

Her eyes closed for a second, and she nodded. “Thank you. I couldn’t bear it if anyone thought I was...”

“If anyone thought what?”

“It’s not important.”

If that soft sigh was anything to go by, it was important. At least, to her. But if she wanted to tell him, she would have. It was probably best to stick to neutral topics anyway, since the purpose of this outing was to discuss Nick’s treatment, extol his virtues and then each go their merry way.

The light turned green, and Luke eased back into traffic. “Nick’s going to make a full recovery, by the way. He had some shrapnel—leftover from an old wound—that shifted. It got a little too close to his spinal cord for comfort. He’s just finishing up his course of physical therapy and then he’ll be free to go about his business.”

Kate twisted in her seat and stared at him. “That’s wonderful. So he won’t have any permanent damage?”

“No.” Unlike himself, who carried a permanent reminder of his time in Afghanistan. “His physical therapy is taking a little longer than expected because of some nerve damage, but after that he should be good to go.”

“Maybe I can help. I’m a physical therapist.”

She was? Luke frowned. He’d been thinking along the lines of socialite, so the fact that she was a PT came as a complete surprise. “I don’t know...”

“I’m licensed, specializing in LSVT.”

Luke’s head was still spinning at the revelation as he turned another corner. He’d known plenty of physical therapists, but Kate looked nothing like the professionals who’d hauled his ass out of bed after the injury that had nearly claimed his leg. Who’d propped him upright and goaded him into taking his first shaky steps.

Although remembering the lean muscles beneath his hands as he’d lifted Kate onto that sink, he shouldn’t be that surprised. And imagining those hands working on his body...

Good God.

He swallowed. Nick would not be happy to know the thoughts racing through his mind right now. For the life of him, he couldn’t think of anything to say, so he asked the obvious question. “LSVT?”

“It’s a specialized voice therapy for Parkinson’s patients.”

Ah, so she wasn’t the brute-strength type of therapist after all. “Nick will need occupational therapy, not speech.”

“Part of LSVT deals with the physical aspects of Parkinson’s.” Her chin tilted stubbornly.

He tried again. “Your father doesn’t have Parkinson’s.”

“Yes, he does, he’s in the early...” She let out a soft sigh. “Oh. That’s right. It’s still hard for me to think of Nick as my father. I’m sure I could help him, though. I’ve already checked online, there are several hospitals here in England using LSVT. It could be useful, even though he doesn’t have Parkinson’s.”

What had made her check on that? Was she thinking about staying in London? “I’m sure he’s getting everything he needs at the hospital’s PT center.”

“But what about when he’s not there? I could help him with some extra exercises...help his wife out with him. Maybe it would give me a chance to get to know him better.”

Luke wasn’t sure Tiggy would welcome the reminder that Nick had fathered another child. Especially not in her condition. But it wasn’t up to him. That was a decision the couple would have to make on their own.

He pulled into the parking lot of the Indian Palace Restaurant and set the handbrake. “Nick and Tiggy are under a lot of stress right now—with the surgery and everything. Now might not be a good time.” Unhooking his seat belt, he waited for her to follow suit. “Listen, we’ll eat, and I’ll fill you in on his surgery and prognosis, and then you’ll have a better grasp of his situation, okay?”

“Good. That’ll give me more time to convince you.”

Not good. He might not be the one she needed to convince, but all he could think was that it might be fun to let her try, anyway.

* * *

Kate took a quick gulp of water and then another, her mouth on fire. The smoldering sensation of swallowing hot coals continued as she sucked air in and out through pursed lips in a desperate effort to get some relief. “Oh, my God...” Huff, huff. “That’s so good.”

The man across from her gave her a quick grin. “Your face is pink. And your accent is really coming through.”

“Because I’m on f-i-ire.”

She put every Southern bone she had into that last word. The food was just-this-side-of-pain spicy. And she loved it. It was hard to get good Indian food in the States, but Luke had assured her that Londoners loved it. And they were evidently not afraid of a little spice. Or a lot, in this case.

“Well, when you decide to go hot, you go all the way, don’t you?”

Kate looked at him sharply, wondering if the amusement in his voice was in regard to the food or if he was talking about something else. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and reached for her napkin, using it to dab the still-burning corners of her mouth. The words had stung, but only because she’d let them.

Her mom had been a wonderful, loving mother, but she’d also been impulsive, throwing her whole being into whatever caught her interest. That had tended to change weekly—even daily. When she’d found Nick’s note in that shoebox, it hadn’t been the only “call me later” letter. There’d been others. Many of them. If not for the fact that her baby picture had been stapled onto a corner of one of the envelopes, which contained a picture of her mother with a much younger Nick, along with his note, she might never have wondered if the man she’d known as her father was actually her biological father.

Her mom’s impulsiveness hadn’t been restricted to hobbies and charities, it would seem. It had spilled into other areas. And she’d left a trail of broken hearts along the way. Her dad never seemed to indicate she’d strayed during their marriage. Or maybe he didn’t know. Kate had never doubted his deep love for her mother, though. He’d been devoted to her. Her death had devastated them both. She was thankful she’d found that box and not her dad. She’d hidden everything except Nick’s letter and her photo, which had been when her father had broken down and admitted he’d adopted her after he’d married her mother. She’d been two years old at the time.

All those men. Several of them had clearly not understood why her mother hadn’t returned their calls. And she’d kept those letters. Why? As reminders?

God. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt anyone like that.

She glanced at Luke. He seemed well able to take care of himself. Their little fling in the storage closet probably hadn’t left the slightest scratch.

Unlike she herself, who was still reeling from her actions. They’d been totally out of character for her.

Or were they? She didn’t know anymore.

Dropping her napkin back in her lap, she feigned a sweet smile. “I always say if you’re going to do something, you might as well make it worth your while.”

He nodded at her plate. “Even if it stings.”

“Maybe that’s the goal.”

His smile faded. “To do something that hurts you?”

“Better than hurting others, don’t you think?”

He leaned back in his chair and regarded her for a few seconds, his expression grim. “Absolutely.”

What was he thinking about? It didn’t matter. The sooner she got this question-and-answer session over with, the better. The man had the ability to get under her skin, and she didn’t like it. She’d never had casual sex before, and the last thing she wanted to do was look her mistake in the face repeatedly—no matter how handsome that face might be.

“So, you said Nick put me down on his list of relatives. What made him decide to do that?”

“That’s something you’ll have to ask him. But I assume it’s because you’re his daughter, and he’s happy to have finally met you.”

Something pricked at the back of her mind, raising her suspicions. “At the hospital, you said you weren’t Nick’s doctor anymore, so why are you the one filling me in on his condition? Why not his current doctor?”

“Because he asked me to.”

“Why would he do that?” Her brain worked through the possibilities and came up with the most obvious choice. “You know him, don’t you? Outside the hospital, I mean.” It seemed like Nick knew everyone, except her.

“Yes.”

She picked up her fork but didn’t use it. She just stared at the gold-rimmed plate for a moment or two. “Did he know about me at all? Or did my mom never contact him again after their...time together?”

Did she want to know the answer to that? Not really, but she couldn’t crawl back inside her shell and act like the past six months hadn’t happened. Just like the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, what was known couldn’t be unknown ever again.

A warm hand reached over and covered hers. “I don’t know,” he said. “But I do know that Nick’s a good man.”

Really? She’d thought her mother had been a saint, too, until a couple of months ago.

“So you know everything about him, do you?” Nick hadn’t seemed all that thrilled to find out he’d fathered a child after a one-night stand. And he’d never mentioned whether or not he’d been married to someone else at the time he’d slept with her mother. Please let it be no. She didn’t want that hanging over her mother’s memory, as well.

Everything inside her was so jumbled right now. She didn’t know what to do or think. Her world had ceased making sense the moment she’d peeked inside that shoebox.

What was the big deal, anyway?

Nick had just had a one-night stand. Okay, well, she’d had a one-day stand. So who was she to judge anyone?

Luke’s eyes hardened, and he let go of her hand. “No, I don’t know everything about him, but I can tell you he once saved a self-destructive dumbass from himself.”

She tried to work through what he meant. Who...

Before she could finish her thought he dragged a hand through his hair and blew out a rough breath. “This dumbass owes him one. Big time.”

Oh...oh!

She caught his hand, the same way he’d caught hers a few minutes earlier. “You’re talking about yourself.”

He wrapped his fingers around hers, holding her in place and sending crazy tingles skittering up her arm. And that slow, sexy smile was back full force. “Which word gave me away, Kate? Self-destructive? Or dumbass?”

“Neither.” She was about to lay herself bare before him, and she had no idea why. “It was the talk about owing him. You’re not the only one who does. I owe him, too. For my very life.”

CHAPTER FOUR

WHY THE HELL had he said anything?

Driving back to the hotel after their meal, he cursed himself for revealing so much. She’d already been warming up to the sparkly image of Nick he’d tried to paint, without needing any additional props. So why had he admitted to owing him?

The second he’d seen the confusion in her eyes, heard the raw vulnerability in her voice, he’d been lost. He’d kept up his crusty, uncaring shell through the rest of the meal, but his insides had turned into a gloppy, gooey mess. Like a marshmallow held a little too close to the fire.

Kate didn’t owe Nick. Not the way he did. Yeah, his friend may have donated a few thousand sperm to the making of her, but that had been a rash, spur-of-the-moment act. What the man had done for him had been far different. Luke had been awake long enough after his injury to hear brief snatches of a heated argument between Nick—who’d been an army medic at the time—and someone else, their accents placing them as English.

“He’ll die, if we don’t clamp those vessels right now...”

“...give me a few more minutes here.”

“...lose the leg, but save his life...”

“...get your bloody hands off my patient, and give me some room!”

“...Americans would rather have him back alive than in a body bag.”

The second Luke’s eyes had opened again, and he’d spied the familiar walls of a field hospital, his hands had gone straight to his leg. The sense of relief that had swept through him when his fingers had met thick wads of bandages—instead of empty air—had been enormous. Until he’d seen the actual damage and heard the grim prognosis.

He hadn’t been out of the woods, and his leg, even if it could be saved in the long run, would never be the same.

Well, the appendage was still with him, but he wondered sometimes if the trade-off had been worth it.

Even as he thought it, his hand came off the stick shift of his car to massage the twisted muscles, but he stopped short. Kate didn’t know exactly how Nick had saved his life. For all she knew, he’d simply kept him from doing anything stupid. No reason for her to know the literal truth.

She hadn’t said much as she’d finished her meal and he’d paid the bill. They’d simply talked about Nick’s original injury, about why it had flared up after all these years, and what had needed to happen during surgery to give him a shot at a normal life.