His Chosen Wife. Anne McAllister

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СКАЧАТЬ But she also remembered something else. “You said you couldn’t go to the benefit,” she reminded him. “When I was planning the trip I asked you about it, and you said it wasn’t a problem, that you couldn’t go, you were too busy.”

      “I am busy. But I need to go. Fogarty says I’m expected to show my face.”

      Fogarty was the head honcho in Jon’s practice, the senior doctor whose lead everyone else followed. “Then I guess you’ll have to show your face. But you’ll have to do it alone because I can’t be there.”

      “Ally, what’s going on?”

      “Something’s come up. Something important.”

      “What could possibly be more important? The benefit is important, Alice.”

      But it hadn’t been until Fogarty had decided it was. “I know. And I did ask,” she said again. “But I’ve made a commitment here now. I have some … unfinished business.”

      “I know you want that Castillo woman to take you on, but really, Ally, you have plenty of exposure elsewhere. And when we’re married, how are you going to keep all the shops supplied? When we have kids …?”

      They’d had this discussion before. And after they had children, Ally was certainly willing to put her career on hold and be a full-time mother. She had made up her mind some time ago that if she were ever fortunate enough to have children, she didn’t want someone else to raise them. If it were an economic necessity, she would certainly work to support them. But it wasn’t. Jon could provide the economic security for the family while the children were young.

      Until then, however, she wanted to work, to draw, to paint, to design, to sew.

      “When we have kids, I will put them first,” she said firmly. “But now I have to stay here until Monday.”

      And she wasn’t entirely averse to taking advantage of the fact that he had assumed it had to do with her art. After all, if she told him why she was really staying, he would like it even less.

      “Your dad is going to be disappointed. He was looking forward to seeing you tomorrow.”

      “I know.” Ally felt guilty, but she didn’t see any other option. “Well, I’ll see him Monday. And if you stop in to see him today, give him my love.”

      “I doubt if I’ll have time to stop by. I have a full day.”

      “I’ll give him a ring, then,” Ally said. “And I’ll call you as soon as I know what flight on Monday I’ll get in on.”

      “Right. I’ll try to be there to pick you up. But I have to go now. I have surgery in less than an hour.”

      “Right. Of course. Thanks for calling back. And I really am sorry about the weekend. I’ll talk to you later. Love you.”

      But Jon had already hung up.

      Ally sat there holding the phone in her hand, feeling sick.

      She knew she was letting him down. She knew he counted on her. Depended on her. Loved her. And she knew he didn’t understand about PJ. Probably he never would. She wished she’d been able to talk to him. It would have helped so much to have felt able to confide in him about what had happened, to admit that PJ’s refusal to sign the papers had unnerved her, that the meal he’d cooked had baffled her, that his sister had charmed her, that going to meet his parents was seriously rattling her.

      And then there was his kiss.

      Her senses still spun, her brain still whirled every time she thought about that kiss. But of course Jon was the last person she could talk to about any of that.

      Would PJ kiss her again this weekend?

      Did she want him to?

      If he did, how would she react a second time? Why was he doing it? What did he want? He didn’t love her.

      Did she still, somewhere deep inside, love him?

      And if she did, what then?

      CHAPTER SIX

      EVERYONE in the office knew about Ally’s arrival.

      PJ knew Rosie had told his sister. Hell, he’d wanted her to tell Cristina. But had she had to tell everyone?

      Not that anyone said anything. It was in the way they looked at him and in what they didn’t say that told him they all knew.

      The minute he’d opened the office door Thursday morning, the conversation had stopped. Rosie and the rest of them had been in deep discussion, and at the sight of him, the room went from full babble to total silence.

      They all turned and stared. No one said a word.

      “High-level top-secret meeting?” he asked blandly. “Or are you all speechless in admiration of my tie?” He flapped his silver-and-black-striped tie at them and raised a sardonic brow.

      One of the architects grinned, flashing his gold tooth, then shook his dreads and headed for his office. “Sorry, boss. Not my style.”

      The others turned red and mumbled something before vanishing, as well, leaving only Rosie to meet his hard stare unflinchingly.

      “Did you put out a bulletin?” he asked acidly.

      “Mark was already here this morning,” she said. No further explanation was needed.

      “Ah. Sorry.” He grimaced and headed for his office. He hadn’t slept most of the night. He’d prowled and paced and remembered. Lay down. Got up. Relived. And this morning he was edgy and he knew it.

      “Ryne Murray will be here at nine,” Rosie said to his back.

      “Let me know when he gets here.” He spoke without turning around, happy to close the door behind him before Rosie could decide that, even though it was business as usual, she was still entitled to ask questions.

      He wouldn’t mind the questions, PJ thought, tossing his jacket over the back of his chair, then going to stare out the window, provided he knew the answers.

      But whatever she might ask about Ally—and he knew that all of Rosie’s questions would deal with Ally—PJ didn’t have any answers at all.

      No, not true.

      He had one: he still wanted her.

      When he’d married her, PJ had expected nothing. And that was pretty much exactly what he’d got.

      After the ceremony—if you could even call it that—where they’d said their vows at the courthouse, when they’d come back outside into the bright Honolulu sunlight, he’d suggested a celebratory dinner.

      “After all,” he’d told her, grinning, “it’s not every day we get married.”

      But the smile Ally returned had been tremulous at best. “I don’t think so. I just—well, I really need to tell my father I’m married.”

      As СКАЧАТЬ