“Up here.”
Following the sound of his voice, she found him in the first bedroom off the upstairs landing. She walked in and looked around. Her suitcases were on a flat bench at the foot of a king-size bed. The spread had flowers and matching throw pillows. Somehow the decor didn’t seem to fit a man whose nickname was “The Wall.”
“This is a beautiful room.” And she meant that sincerely.
There was a window seat that looked out onto the brick patio that surrounded a big pool. A door to her left led to the full bath and big walk-in closet.
“Somehow I didn’t picture you as a flowered comforter kind of guy,” she said as she turned to him.
He looked a little sheepish and awfully darn cute when he said, “I bought the furniture and bedding after we agreed you would move in.”
Her chest tightened and she had the distinct feeling that her heartstrings were being tugged. He was telling her that this room had been empty and he furnished it with decor that was suspiciously similar to that found in her apartment. One could conclude that he’d done it specifically for her. But one really and truly didn’t want to believe that.
“It’s lovely. And very nice of you. But you promised not to be nice to me.”
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “I forgot. Want to see the rest of the place?”
“Yes.”
She trailed after him from room to room as he explained where everything was and showed her the huge backyard. The grass area beyond the pool was big enough for a hockey rink, if it wasn’t Southern California, where it was only possible to maintain indoor ice with equipment. He’d even made space for her in his downstairs office so she had somewhere to work.
Back in the kitchen he showed her around. Last but not least there was a rack hanging over the island with copper-bottom pots and pans dangling from it. The effect was all pretty perfect.
He noticed the bags of groceries sitting there. “What’s this?”
“I’m making dinner. My way of contributing.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Are you afraid I can’t cook?” she challenged. “You were awfully quick to suggest hiring a chef for The Pub.”
“It was just a thought. A brainstorming thing.”
“Because the burgers, hot dogs, and fish and chips I make aren’t fancy enough?” It was simple stuff and she wasn’t the only one who did the cooking. Which reminded her. “It was generous of you to pay the employees while the renovation is underway.”
“It’s fair. Also smart business to retain good help. Cheaper in the long run since they’re already trained,” he explained.
“Still, it’s appreciated.”
He leaned back against the counter and slipped his fingertips into the pockets of his worn jeans. “So, what’s for dinner?”
“You’ll see.”
“Can I help?”
She thought for a moment. “Maybe set the table. And there’s stuff in the bags to make salad.”
“On it,” he said.
She’d brought everything necessary for chicken marsala, including the cooking wine. He gave her a funny look and she got it right away. “The alcohol will burn off in cooking. It’s fine for a pregnant lady.”
“Okay.”
She found her way around his kitchen as if she’d set it up herself, which was a little disconcerting. Their minds, organizationally speaking, worked the same way. That saved her time in fixing dinner. When everything was ready she put the food out on the circular oak table, in a nook with a view of the backyard.
She cut a bite of chicken and nodded as the flavors hit her tongue. “It’s not bad, if I do say so myself.”
He tried it and met her gaze, surprise in his own. “Definitely a winner.”
“Don’t sound so shocked. I have skills.”
“I’m aware.”
There was a hint of something in his voice that she had a feeling meant he wasn’t only referring to her cooking abilities. Best not to go there, so they ate in silence. He scarfed up everything on his plate, and then had a second helping. It made her happy that he enjoyed it. Maybe that had something to do with her nesting instincts, which had gone nuts so far in this pregnancy.
“This is really a beautiful home,” she said to break the silence. “How long have you lived here?”
“Awhile,” he said vaguely.
“Can we talk about how sparse the furnishings are?”
“Nothing to say,” he told her. “That hasn’t been a priority.”
“What has?”
“Business. I needed something to fill my time when I stopped playing hockey.”
A career-ending injury must have been hard, she thought. “So investing in businesses keeps you busy?”
“And pays the bills.”
Still, she was curious. Was he deliberately not putting down roots? Less stuff equaled a fast getaway?
She wouldn’t pry, but couldn’t resist needling him about something else. Maybe it was payback because he’d initially walked out on her without a word when she’d told him about the baby.
“So, which room are you going to make the nursery?”
He stopped chewing, then slowly raised his gaze to hers. “What?”
“You’ll want to have a place for the baby when he’s with you. There are a lot of bedrooms upstairs. Which one are you thinking for him?”
“First of all—him?”
“I won’t keep saying it. So he,” she explained. “And which room were you thinking of for him?”
Something dark slipped into his eyes. He set his fork on the plate as if he’d suddenly lost his appetite. “I’ll figure it out. If necessary.”
“It will be,” she assured him. “You can’t just throw things together at the last minute. God knows I’m starting to freak out a little about all that needs to be done.”
“Actually newborns don’t need that much. One trip to the store and you’re good.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Stuff to change diapers. Onesies. A few sleepers. If you breastfeed, you don’t even need bottles. The rest of it you can get as needed.”
“What about a crib?”
“Babies don’t move around much for the first couple of months.” He shrugged.
This made her more curious than the sparse furnishings in his house. Forget the fact that he provided soda crackers for morning sickness. “How do you know so much about babies?”
“Good question. Guys on the team had kids. I guess some of what they said sank in.” The casual tone was forced and his eyes never lost their sort of tense, haunted look.
She didn’t buy his explanation. In her experience men just didn’t have much information about infant care. What was his story? As badly as she wanted to ask, she didn’t go there.
She met his gaze and decided not to bring up breastfeeding. “We’re going to need bottles for him. You’ll need them when he’s with you.”
“If,” he reminded her.
She was annoyed because she knew he was the only one who could be the father of her baby. But he was at a disadvantage; he didn’t know for sure that she’d only been with him. So she cut him some slack.
“You’re really stubborn. Your resistance to this child being yours is impressive.”
“I’m not resisting, just waiting it out.”
“Okay. But I’m telling you your life is going to change. Half the time you’re going to be responsible for a baby. Feeding. Changing diapers.”
“So will you,” he said.
She didn’t need the reminder. Nerves about how this was going to alter her life were already starting. She was just spreading the joy. “It occurs to me that at least half the time you’re going to have to put the brakes on your love life. Assuming the flavor of the month isn’t into children.”
“Same goe
s for you.” He wasn’t smiling.
“I have no love life to interrupt,” she told him.
“Really?” There was a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes that finally chased away the dark look. “I would think a lot of guys are interested.”
“I meet a lot,” she admitted. “It’s part of the job. Some hit on me.”
“And?”
“Nothing.” She wasn’t interested.
“Not that I believe it, but why?”
“It’s like picking out a dog.” She thought about how that sounded. “I don’t mean all guys are dogs but when choosing, you don’t want the one that’s all over you. They’re too eager. The one that hangs back is more calm and centered. Trainable.”
“I see.” He looked amused.
“My point is, are you sure you want me here? If you’re bringing a woman home, you can just let me know. I’ll make myself scarce.”
“That won’t be necessary,” he said wryly.
“Right. Because you can always go to her place.”
“No. Because there are no women.”
When he got up and started clearing plates, it was clear the discussion was over. But that didn’t stop her mind from racing.
Now that she thought about it, Leo had hung back until the night of her grandfather’s memorial. To be fair, for some reason they’d both melted down simultaneously, and there was no explaining it because she would never be his flavor of the month. But they would always be connected by this child she was carrying.
And he knew an awful lot about pregnant women and infants. It seemed odd that he even knew what a onesie was. The man had a story, a secret, and she wanted to know what it was.
* * *
There was a woman in the house. Tess.
A woman he hadn’t slept with the night before, which happened now and then. Leo wished he could say he had no interest in sleeping with her, except he did. But that wasn’t an option because they were in business together. If that wasn’t enough, sex would complicate an already bad situation. He didn’t trust that she was telling the truth, even though she seemed completely confident that he was the baby’s father.
In case she wasn’t lying, he was going to make sure she didn’t sleep in a building full of demolition dust and paint fumes. And that she ate well—for both her and the baby.
So this morning he cut up fresh fruit and made an egg, cheese and potato casserole. It was easy and good. He hoped Tess would like it. More specifically he hoped it wouldn’t make her throw up.
He glanced at the clock on the microwave again and noted that the morning was slipping away. Did she normally sleep late? Possibly, since The Pub was busiest at night. But what if she wasn’t okay? This house was big and he might not have heard if she needed help. Should he check on her? Maybe send a text? She’d taken her phone upstairs with her. If she didn’t answer, he would go up and knock—
“Good morning.”
He was checking on breakfast in the oven, and at the sound of her voice he closed the door and turned. “Hey, sleepyhead.”
“I’m sorry I slept so late, but that bed is really comfortable. I was out cold.”
That made one of them because the sight of her made him hot all over. “I’m glad. Not that you were out. That you slept well.”
“I did.” She sniffed. “Something smells good.”
“Breakfast.”
“A man who cooks,” she commented.
“I’m a bachelor. Someone has to.”
He told her what was in it and then studied her for signs that the scents of food were not adversely affecting her. He didn’t see anything in her bright brown eyes and sunny smile that said she needed crackers. There was a fresh-faced prettiness about her that he’d liked the first time they had met.
And he was going to do his best to ignore how nice it was to have a woman here. He was also ignoring that this was the first time this house felt like a home. It had been a while since a woman spent the night, and he was going to chalk his feelings up to that.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Smell’s not bothering you?”
“No. And that’s getting better. Everything I read about pregnancy said it usually does right about where I am now.”
“Do you think it would be okay for me to make coffee?”
“Yes.” She gave him a “don’t go being nice to me” look. “Did you not make it because of me?”
“No big deal. I was going to stop by Starbucks later, when I went out.”
“That’s exactly what I didn’t want,” she said firmly.
“For me to go to Starbucks?”
“No. To change your routine because I’m here. Let me make coffee.”
The determination on her face told him if he challenged her, he would lose the argument. “As long as you’re not going to turn green.”
“Can’t promise,” she said. “But if it happens I’ll deal.”
“Okay. Coffee is in the refrigerator.” He nodded toward the machine on the counter. “There’s the beast to make it.”
“I’m on it.”
She rounded the island and moved past him to get started. The scent of her skin lingered in her wake and made him feel light-headed. For a second his brain was as scrambled as the eggs he’d mixed into the casserole. If someone asked his name, he wasn’t 100 percent sure he would have remembered it.
“Leo?”
“Hmm?” He forced himself to focus. “Did you say something?”
“How do you like your coffee? Weak. Medium. Or stand a spoon up in it.”
“Medium.”
“Got it.” She measured grounds, added water to the reservoir, then pushed the button. Almost immediately there was the sound of sizzling and dripping into the pot. The smell of coffee was strong in the air and he watched her closely for signs of her hundred-yard dash to the bathroom.
“Would you like me to set the table?” she asked.
“Sure. That would be great.”
He watched her reach into the upper cabinet for plates and noticed her short T-shirt ride up, revealing a stretch of creamy bare skin that winked in his direction. The joke was on him. For the second time a woman had told him she was pregnant with his child and he needed to be sure he wouldn’t get sucked into the fairy tale again. After his life had fractured, it had taken a while to pull himself out of the pit of darkness. He wouldn’t go there twice.
As soon as it was safe, he would move her back to the apartment. In the meantime he’d keep tabs on her, in case she was trying to pull a fast one.
The timer on his phone signaled that the casserole was done. He gave it a once-over and determined it was ready, then grabbed protective mitts and pulled the cast-iron skillet out of the oven.
“Do you have something to put on the table to protect it from that hot pan?”
“Last drawer,” he said. “Some square pads.”
She put them out. “There.”
“Thanks.” He set down the cast-iron skillet. “There’s fresh fruit salad, too.”
“I’ll get it.” She opened the refrigerator and then bent at the waist to retrieve the bowl.
He had a perfect view of her championship-quality butt and a stirring memory of cupping it in his hands to lift her onto the table in The Pub. In spite of the cosmic joke that was his life, he went hot all over, but most of the blood traveled south of his belt. Fortunately she didn’t look at him when she closed the refrigerator door. She just headed to the table with the fruit bowl.
“Do you want coffee?” he asked.
“No, thanks. I’m not quite brave enough to risk that just yet.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Can I pour you a cup?”
“Just sit. I’ll get it.”
He did and then joined her at the table where they would eat together again
. For the first time since he’d lost his professional hockey career and his family, he felt the absence of loneliness. It seemed the darkness was no match for Tess’s sunny disposition.
She took a bite of food, and almost instantly her eyes closed in ecstasy. It was so sexy, he thought there was a very real chance that his head would explode.
“This is so good,” she said.
He took a bite and could barely taste it. Weird since this dish was one of his favorites. “I’m glad you like it.”
“I do.” Her eyes sparkled when she met his gaze. “You have skills, too.”
He knew she meant cooking, but the way his body was responding to her made the words a double entendre. After a swig of hot coffee, his cynical side woke up completely and reminded him he was being the worst kind of dope. He needed to make sure his rational self stayed highly caffeinated.
“So, what’s on your agenda today?” she asked.
“I plan to stop by The Pub and check on the construction progress. Then there’s a pile of paperwork at the rink that I need to deal with.”
“Sounds exciting.”
He sipped more coffee. “What about you? This is kind of a forced vacation for you.”
“I plan to inspect the destruction your contractor has done. What you so cavalierly call renovation.” She held up a hand to stop his protest. “I won’t stay long and Nate gave me one of those masks like the guys wear so I don’t breathe in the dust.”
“So he knows you’re pregnant?”
“I told him, but he was too polite to ask who the father is. And I didn’t volunteer the information.”
He nodded, appreciating her discretion. “Still, do you think it’s wise to go there? Even with the mask?”
“It will be fine. Especially since I’m seeing the doctor right after.”
“Is something wrong?”
“No. Regular monthly check.”
He was aware of that and also knew that during the last couple of months, the doctor visits would increase in frequency until the baby was born. But he didn’t tell her he knew that, because she’d already asked a lot of questions about how he knew so much about pregnant women and infants. Since he was trying to forget it ever happened, he never talked about that time.
An Unexpected Partnership Page 5