by Tracy Wolff
She locked gazes with him, and her green eyes were bright with honesty and reassurance. “There’s no long-term damage. I’m going to be fine.”
He nodded, but he still felt uneasy. He wanted to see the test results himself, wanted to know—
She sighed. “Will it really calm you down if I go see Jack?”
He jumped on the offer. “Yes.”
“You won’t make me see Amanda, too, or any other doctor you can dig up?”
“I swear. Just Jack. And a high-risk pregnancy specialist.”
“I already have an appointment with one of those.”
“Which one? Because I’m going to ask around, see who’s the best—”
“Lucas!”
“Too pushy?” he asked.
“A little bit.”
“Okay. We’ll take you to see Jack this morning and then you can do the appointment with the specialist your obstetrician recommends.”
“Well, thank you so much for your permission.”
He sighed. “I’m sorry, Kara.”
“It’s fine.” She reached over and ruffled his hair. “I know you can’t help yourself.”
“I really can’t.”
She smiled at him, and if it wasn’t as brilliant as the smiles he was used to getting from her, then at least it wasn’t as bad as how she’d looked last night, curled up in his arms and fighting nausea.
But, because he could still see her like that whenever he closed his eyes, and because it made him sick to think about it, he tugged on the hand he still held. “Come here.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, confusion evident on her beautiful face, even as she let him pull her out of her chair.
“I need to hold you for a minute.” He settled her on his lap, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on the top of her head. As he did, he felt himself relax—truly relax—for the first time since he’d jumped out of bed that morning. She was fine, he told himself. She was right here with him, real and substantial and perfectly solid. It was enough. More than enough.
At least for him. At least for now.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE NEXT FEW DAYS PASSED in a blur of hospital and doctor visits, trips to the lawyer’s office and the police station as he tried to make sense of what his sister was up against. And when the unthinkable happened, when one of the little kids who had been in the car died, all hell broke loose.
The press had picked up the story and run with it by the second day. Lisa was the daughter of one of Atlanta’s most prominent families, and the fact that she had committed such a crime was huge news. It wasn’t long before the public began calling for her head and he could see why Kara had been so insistent that he get an attorney involved as quickly as possible. He needed the guy to help spin public opinion. Not in their favor, obviously, as that would be insane. But at least to not let it skew so far against Lisa.
The police were ready to level charges of DUI, DUI with injury, DUI with death and—if the prosecutor followed through with the rumor that had been circulating—second-degree murder. They were simply waiting until Lisa was well enough to deal with the charges before they arrested her.
She was doing pretty well. She’d come out of the medically induced coma and was beginning to heal despite the catastrophic state of her life. In typical Lisa fashion, she didn’t seem to quite comprehend the seriousness of what she was facing, and he didn’t tell her. Not yet. There’d be plenty of time for that after she’d recovered from surgery and the concussion.
That didn’t mean, however, that he could afford the same luxury. He’d been running himself ragged for a week now. He felt like a hamster on a stationary wheel—running and running and running but getting absolutely nothing accomplished.
Kara had been wonderful, though. She’d been there for him every step of the way, making sure that whatever he needed, he got. Food, someone to bounce ideas off, advice, support. She’d been there each and every day with all of that and more.
Which had only made him feel more like a heel. After all, she was the one who was pregnant, who was recovering from a serious illness. He should be the one coddling her, not the other way around. And yet, when she wrapped an arm around his waist or shoved a cup of coffee in his hand or bullied him into going to bed before the middle of the night, he couldn’t fight her. Couldn’t turn the tables on her. She was too good at playing the nurturer.
Which was strange, and something he’d never realized about her before. Oh, sure, he’d known she was good at her job, but analyzing facts and figures didn’t require a great bedside manner. Maybe that’s why he’d never noticed before. Or maybe he’d just been too wrapped up in being the caretaker to ever give anyone else a shot.
Whatever it was, he’d never been more grateful to a person in his life. She managed to keep his life on track—keep him on track—even when it seemed everything around him was falling apart. That had to count for something. Something big.
When his mother had cornered him at the hospital ten days after Lisa’s accident and apologized to him for the things she’d said while Lisa was in surgery, he’d been shocked. His mother never apologized for anything—when she was in the wrong she had a tendency to just let the incident slide away into oblivion. But that day she’d told him in no uncertain terms that she had made a mistake and that she didn’t know what she would have done without him.
He’d accepted the apology, though part of him still believed everything she’d said about his failings. And later, when he’d seen her talking to Kara, their heads bent together like they were sharing a secret, he’d known Kara had put his mother up to it.
What was he supposed to do with her? She spent her days taking care of him and resting to take care of the baby, and yet she balked every time he tried to do the same for her. It was frustrating in the extreme, especially when there was so much he wanted to do for her. So many ways he wanted to care for her.
If only he could figure out how to get past her defenses to do just that.
An idea struck him and he reached for his cell phone. He hadn’t seen her all day and he missed her, wanted to hear her voice if only for a couple of minutes.
“Hey, Lucas? What’s up?” She sounded harried, like she was in the middle of something, which was strange because he’d thought she was at home resting.
“You okay, Kara?” he demanded. “Where are you?”
“I’m grocery shopping. I needed a few things.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I could have picked them up for you.”
“Because I am perfectly capable of going to the store. The doctor says running a few errands is good for the baby and me. And before you ask, yes, Jack agrees. As long as I don’t overdo it, I should get some walking exercise in every day.”
He smiled. “Am I that predictable?”
“Even more so,” she told him.
“Okay, if you know me so well, why did I call?”
“Because you missed me,” she said with a laugh. When he didn’t laugh with her, she sobered quickly. “I’m just kidding. I don’t know why you called.”
“That’s exactly why I called—and to invite you to my place for dinner. I can pick you up about seven if you’re interested.”
“I’d love to have dinner with you, Lucas. But I can get myself to your house on my own.”
Frustration ate at him. “I know that, Kara. That doesn’t mean I can’t come get you, though, does it?”
“I
thought you were at the clinic until six tonight?”
“I am. But I can come get you—”
“My place is totally out of the way. Go home, take a shower and I’ll see you about seven-fifteen or so.”
“I really don’t mind—”
“It’s my turn to check out. I have to go, but I’ll see you later.” She clicked off and he was left staring at his phone, wondering how he’d been outmaneuvered again.
On the plus side, since she was driving herself to his house, he’d have more time to plan something special for her. Originally he’d planned to take her out for a nice dinner, to wine and dine her a little bit (or at least dine her, since the wine wasn’t an option). But he didn’t want to share her with anyone and besides, it would be better for her to rest. So he figured that an intimate dinner on the couch at his house would be better.
He could thank her for everything she’d done for him and then tell her that he wanted to take their relationship to the next level. Since the night she’d made such tender love to him, it had been like they were going backward. Like they were so busy being friends that they weren’t even giving the lover thing a try.
And while he knew that she couldn’t actually have sex right now, that didn’t mean they couldn’t kiss or cuddle or do any of the other things that people who were dating did. And though they’d never actually talked about it—or gone on a real date—he was determined that they were indeed dating. He liked her, cared about her more than anyone else in the world, was very definitely sexually attracted to her, and she was carrying his baby. What else did they need to start building a relationship? They already had more than most people ever got.
So, while he didn’t have time to cook, he had more than enough time to order from a little Italian restaurant not too far from his house. Going over the menu carefully, he ordered all of Kara’s favorites, including stuffed mushrooms, bruschetta and fettuccine Alfredo. And tiramisu for dessert. If things went as planned, it would have a dual effect—one, it would give him the chance to take care of her by attempting to get a large number of much-needed calories down her throat, and two, it would give him the time to tell her how he felt about her and to figure out how she felt about him. Oh, he knew she cared about him, but what he really wanted to know was if she thought they had a chance to build something more than friendship.
After work, he rushed home and set the stage. He put a couple bottles of sparkling water on to chill, set the dining room table, lit some candles. He even changed the sheets on his bed, not because he thought the night was going to end in sex but because he would really like it if she spent the night with him again. She hadn’t stayed over since the day of Lisa’s accident and he’d missed her. Every night he woke up reaching for her and she was never there.
Finally, he turned on some music and raced through a shower.
He was just slipping into a black T-shirt when the doorbell rang. He met her at the door with a silly bouquet of daisies—her favorite—and couldn’t help smiling when her eyes turned dreamy at the sight of them. She buried her face in the huge bunch of happy-looking flowers and for long seconds—long enough that he knew he’d gotten it exactly right—just breathed them in.
“Thank you,” she finally said. “They’re beautiful.”
“I’m glad you like them.” He wrapped an arm around her slightly thickening waist, where his baby rested—his baby!—and drew her into the kitchen where she could put them in water before he pressed a wineglass full of sparkling water into her hand.
“What’s all this about?” she asked him, eyeing him warily above her glass.
“Nothing. I wanted to do something nice for you. You’ve done so much for me these past couple of weeks—”
“I don’t need payment for being your friend, Lucas.”
“Yeah, but before all this crap started I thought we were on the road to being more than friends.” He decided to lay it all on the line and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulled her body flush against his. “Or at least, I’d hoped we were.”
Her eyes grew wide and he had to admit it—it was gratifying to watch her get all flustered and doe-eyed. It wasn’t something he saw often from Kara, so he was determined to take advantage of it.
Stepping behind her, he skimmed his hands up her arms to her shoulders, than laid a tender kiss on one of her shoulders, left bare by her pretty, turquoise-colored sundress.
Her breath hitched in her throat and she melted against him. He closed his eyes and for long seconds did nothing more than savor the feeling of her against him. When she started moving restlessly, he brushed her long curls out of his way and softly bit the sensitive spot where her shoulder met her neck.
She lit up, her body moving sensuously against his until he could barely think, barely breathe. He wanted to turn her around and get lost in her kiss, in the feel and taste and scent of her mouth against his. But he had more self-control than that, he told himself as he pulled away reluctantly and ushered her into the dining room. He wasn’t going to jump on her like a hungry predator no matter how much he wanted to. Tonight was about Kara, about giving back to her. He was determined to let her set the pace.
He settled her into the place he’d set for her before moving around the table to his own spot. Then, over fresh, crisp bruschetta and soft, spicy stuffed mushrooms, he set about charming her. Really charming her, in a way he never had before. What did it say about him that he’d wooed a lot of women in his life—women who didn’t matter and whose faces he couldn’t remember. But this woman, who had always mattered, had gotten none of it from him?
It shamed him. The callous disregard he’d shown this woman who had been so much to him in his life. His friend, his lover, his support system, his…love? The word snuck up on him, hit him on his blind side. And yet it fit in a way nothing else did, in the way nothing else had. Ever.
“Lucas?” Kara’s voice was tentative. “Are you okay?”
He realized she was staring at him. Not that he blamed her. He had pretty much shut down there for a minute, stunned by the truth of his feelings for Kara. Unable to do anything else, now that he finally understood the mixed-up emotions that had been plaguing him for weeks, months—years, if he was being honest—he took them out for a spin. At least in his own mind. He loved Kara. He loved her. He. Loved. Kara.
It felt frightening and exhilarating and crazy all at the same time, as if he was out of control but that it might not be such a bad thing, after all. It was a radical thought to him, but one he latched onto with both hands. He could do nothing less, not with Kara sitting across from him, watching him with those big green eyes of hers.
“I’m good,” he answered her. “Great, actually.”
She nodded, though the uncertainty on her face didn’t fade away. She reached for her water, took a long sip. Cleared her throat. Looked anywhere but at him.
And that’s when it hit him. She was as nervous as he was, and as hyperaware of the shifting planes of their relationship. And he’d done nothing to calm her down or reassure her. That was on him.
Determined to help her find her footing now that he had found his, Lucas did his best to charm the nerves from her once and for all. He told her jokes, little anecdotes from the clinic that were both clever and amusing. As they moved on to how their days had gone, he deliberately steered things away from Lisa and her myriad list of problems. Focused instead on keeping things sweet and light.
He fed her from his own hand, delivering the choicest slivers
of tomato and mushroom to her mouth and relishing the feel of her lips as they brushed against his fingers.
He flirted with her shamelessly, making sure that he was always touching her. A hand on her cheek, a finger on her palm, a foot brushing against hers under the table. As the meal wore on, her eyes grew wider and wider, her hands less and less steady. It delighted him no end.
Maybe he should feel bad. God knows, he had invited her here to put her at ease so that she would open up, let him in. Instead, he was doing the exact opposite, making her so nervous that she could barely eat. And he didn’t even feel badly about it.
How could he when her cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkling? When her breath was coming too fast, so that her breasts rose and fell with each uneven inhalation. He loved that he was arousing her, loved that her reaction to him was as powerful, as all consuming as his was to her. Because, God knows, in sitting across from her, trying to seduce her, he had seduced himself, as well. Given himself completely over to her care.
But that worked two ways. She was in his care, as well, and it was his job to take care of her. To cherish her. He glanced down at her still-full plate and realized his seduction could have more serious consequences. She had barely touched her food, and that he couldn’t allow.
He twisted his fork on his plate, swirling fettuccine onto the tines before reaching across the table and holding it up to her mouth. She didn’t take it right away; instead, she just looked at him as if he was a puzzle she was trying to figure out. Which nearly made him laugh—he was not the mysterious one of the two of them, and never had been.
“Go on,” he said softly. “You need to eat.”
Eventually, she took the bite, chewing it slowly as her gaze never wavered from his. When she’d swallowed, he scooped up another bite, held it out to her again. And again she took it. They continued on this way until his plate was half-empty. When she held her hand up to stay his, he murmured, “Had enough?”