by Tracy Wolff
“Let me take you back to your place,” he said, his voice hoarse with a desire he didn’t even try to hide. “Let me make you feel good.”
Her eyes flew open at his words, and in their depths he saw the same arousal he was feeling, the same need. But there was a reluctance there, too, that spoke of confusion and conflict, and he knew—no matter how much he wanted her—he couldn’t have her. Not now. Not when things were still so unsettled between them.
So he pulled back, let his hand fall away from her cheek.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve made such a mess of things.”
She had, but he wasn’t going to blame her for it. Not when he’d made his share of mistakes, too. He was the one who had erased her number from his phone. He was the one who hadn’t been diligent about listening to his messages and had ended up missing the most important voice mail of his life.
“That’s why we’re starting over. No more messes to clean up, from either of us.” Because his head was still a little cloudy with desire—and it wasn’t the only part of his anatomy to feel that way—he leaned back in his chair and took a long sip of water while he tried to get his thoughts together.
“Look, I know you want to talk about the baby, but I’m not sure what to say about that yet. I’ve spent the last three months thinking I’m going to be doing this alone and now you’re here and you want to be involved. That’s great, but I need time to adjust.”
“I get that. I do. And we’ve got time to figure everything out. But I want you to know that you aren’t in this alone anymore.”
“I know.”
“No, I don’t think you do,” he told her. “I don’t just want to be a part of the baby’s life after he’s born. I want to start now. You’re pregnant and, I don’t know, pregnant women need things, right? If you do, I want to be there to help you out.”
For long seconds, Desi didn’t say anything. Which was fine, because she didn’t reject his words outright. But the longer she kept him waiting, the more anxious he got. He’d already threatened her once today about the baby. He didn’t want her to think he was doing it again.
But just as he opened his mouth to explain, she said, “I’m okay with that.”
“You are?”
“You don’t have to sound so surprised,” she said with a laugh.
“I’m not. It’s just… I was a real ass about the baby earlier and I’m sorry. I don’t want you to think this is a part of what happened before because it’s not.”
“Hey, you’re the one who keeps talking about a clean slate. I think that’s supposed to work both ways, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. I guess it is.”
She nodded, then took a deep breath. Let it out slowly. “So, you want to be a part of the pregnancy?”
“Absolutely.” He thought back to when he was in the park earlier, to the father and the son who’d been at the swings when he was walking by. He wanted that, more than he’d ever imagined possible, and he was going to do whatever he had to do to get it.
“Okay. I have a doctor’s appointment next week. You could come to that if you want.”
“I do want to. But I want more than that, as well.”
“More?” She looked confused. “That’s pretty much all there is at this point. A doctor’s appointment once a month and then, when I’m closer to my due date, one every two weeks. And, I should probably warn you, they aren’t very exciting appointments, you know? I pee on a stick, I listen to the baby’s heartbeat—which, I admit, is the best part. Sometimes the doctor takes my blood. But that’s it.”
“It sounds pretty good to me.”
“That’s because you aren’t the one getting stuck with needles,” she told him.
“Well, thank God,” he said, adding an exaggerated eye roll for effect. “I’m a crier.”
“You know, I can see that about you,” she said with a laugh. “You’ve got that look about you.”
He lifted a brow at her. “I look like a crybaby?”
“You look…sensitive.”
That startled a laugh out of him. “Well, I’ve got to say, that’s the first time anyone’s ever told me that.”
“That’s because you keep your sensitive side hidden behind all that charm.”
She said it as a joke, but again, there was something about the look in her eye that told him she saw more than he wanted her to. More than he wanted anyone to. His whole life he’d been the joker, the charmer, the easygoing one who countered Marc’s intensity. He’d been the one who defused their father’s temper when things started to go bad and the one who stepped between him and Marc when things did go bad. And he did it all with a smile.
He’d spent years honing the persona, years perfecting it until everyone who knew him believed he was that guy. Hell, most of the time he believed it himself. The idea that Desi saw through the mask, that she saw what no one else had ever bothered to look for, rocked him to his core.
Which was the only excuse he had for what happened next.
From that moment in the park, when he’d decided definitively what he wanted, he’d been working toward this moment. Everything he’d done since then had been geared toward making Desi trust him, geared toward making her want to go along with his suggestion. He’d even had a plan about how to broach the idea.
But as he sat here, reeling from what should have been a simple throwaway observation but somehow wasn’t, he wanted nothing so much as to change the subject. To get the focus off him. So he blurted out the first thing that came to mind, not caring—until it was too late—that doing so blew his whole plan sky high.
“I want you to move in with me,” he told her straight out, not even bothering to cushion the blow.
“Move in with you?” She looked at him as if he was crazy. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m totally serious.”
“You aren’t.”
He waited until the waiter stopped by to freshen their waters and drop off dessert before he said, “I am.” Then he reached over and forked up a bite of cheesecake and held it out to her.
She didn’t take it right away. Instead, she studied him and studied the bite of cheesecake while the second hand wound its way around his watch.
“Maybe you are,” she finally said, leaning forward to take the bite off his fork. “But you shouldn’t be. We don’t even know each other.”
She’d gotten a tiny dab of whipped cream on his very favorite part of her upper lip and he wanted nothing more than to lean forward and lick it off. The only thing holding him back was the fact that he knew it wouldn’t score him any points right now—and it sure as hell wouldn’t help him convince her that he wasn’t angling for a roommate-with-benefits relationship…
“But it makes perfect sense. What if something happens and you need me—”
“I didn’t realize you were a doctor.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“No, but if I need you, I can call you.” She held up her phone. “That’s what these really nifty smartphones are for. That is, of course, provided you actually pick up this time.”
She said it as if it was a joke, but there was an underlying bite to it that he’d have to be an idiot to miss. “Exactly my point. If we were living together, you wouldn’t have to call me. I’d just be there.”
She sighed heavily, then said, “Nic, look, I know this whole baby thing has thrown you for a loop today. Believe me, I get that. I’ve known for months and it still freaks me out. But that doesn’t mean we have to do anything crazy. I understand that this is your gut reaction. But why don’t you take a few days and really think about it. Make sure being involved is what you really want—”
“It is what I want. I’m not the kind of guy who runs from his responsibilities, Desi.”
“But see, that shouldn
’t be why you decide to stick around. Only because the baby is your responsibility. You should be a part of his life because you want to be, not because you feel like you have to be.”
“Now you’re twisting my words. Of course I want to be a part of his life—”
“Just listen to me for a minute, okay?” It was her turn to reach across the table and put her hand on his. “You need to seriously think about this before you do anything rash. Because if you want out, it would be better if you walked away now rather than in four months or four years, when you decide you’re bored.”
“Why are you so sure I’m going to walk away?” he asked.
“Why are you so sure you’re not?”
“And we’re back to trading questions.” He couldn’t quite keep the frustration out of his voice.
“We are,” she agreed with a small smile. “But they’re important questions. And you didn’t answer mine.”
“Neither did you.” He caught her gaze, held it, then refused to look away.
Desi blinked first, glancing up at the twinkling lights that lined the nearby windows. “I just think you need to think about things.”
“I have thought about them.”
“For a few hours!”
“Sometimes a few hours are all you need.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re being completely irrational.”
Her voice rose on the last couple of words, and that’s when it hit him just how upset she was by this whole discussion. Oh, she was fronting, pretending she was amused and exasperated, but there was something else underneath it all. Something dark, and maybe a little afraid.
It was the fear that gave him pause, that had him sitting back in his chair, studying her as he tried to figure out what made her tick. He didn’t have much luck, which was frustrating, but on this one small point, he would concede she was right. They didn’t know each other, and until they did, he couldn’t get a bead on her.
Which was only one more reason for them to move in together, he decided. Nothing broke down barriers like the forced intimacy of cohabitation. Instinct told him not to mention that to Desi, however, because it might send her running for the hills.
“What’s it going to take,” he asked, when the silence between them moved from uncomfortable to unbearable, “for you to agree to move in with me?”
“Nothing,” she answered immediately. “Because it’s not going to happen. Beyond all the reasons why two people who don’t know each other shouldn’t be moving in together, there are also the logistics. You live and work in San Diego. I live and work in LA. There’s no way I’m driving three hours, in traffic, to work and home every day. It isn’t going to happen.”
“If that’s your biggest objection, forget about it. We can totally fix it.”
“How can we fix it? Even all your money isn’t enough to make LA traffic move during rush hour.”
“Maybe not, but there are other ways to get to work besides a car.”
“Like what?”
“Like a helicopter.” He drained his water glass in one long sip. “See, problem solved.”
“Yes, but I don’t have a helicopter.”
“Maybe not, but I’ve got three.”
“Look,” she said, throwing her napkin down on the table and standing up. “We’re done talking about this. I’m going to the bathroom and when I come back we need a new topic of conversation. Because if we don’t, I’m out of here. And I can promise that neither the baby nor I will be pleased about looking for a bus stop in Beverly Hills.”
Eleven
By the time she got back from the bathroom—where she’d had more than a few WTF moments—Nic had paid the bill and was waiting to escort her out to the car. He hadn’t, however, come up with a new topic of conversation. Instead, he had a new twist on the old one.
“So,” he said as he slid behind the wheel of a car that cost significantly more than she made in a year and started the engine, “I think I’ve found a solution.”
“I didn’t know we had a problem,” she answered drily.
He ignored her. “You don’t want to move in with me, so why don’t I move in with you?”
She burst out laughing. She knew it was rude, especially when he looked so pleased with his suggestion, but she couldn’t help it. The idea of a multibillionaire slumming it in her tiny fourth-story walk-up in Los Feliz was hilarious, especially considering the fact that his pantry was bigger than her whole apartment.
The look he gave her as he backed out of the parking space was decidedly disgruntled. “I don’t see what’s so funny.”
“Really? You don’t?”
“No.”
She thought about enlightening him, but the truth was, he might actually have hit on the perfect solution for getting him off her back about this. He wouldn’t last a day in her apartment, so why not let him move in? The first morning he couldn’t get hot water or the air-conditioning went on the fritz, he’d be out of there. Billionaire playboys born with silver spoons in their mouths rarely knew how to rough it. Not that she’d met that many billionaire playboys—or even more than one, really—but she was certain her opinion would hold up.
“Okay, fine,” she said as he pulled into traffic. “You can move in with me.”
“Seriously?” He glanced over at her before fastening his eyes back on the road. “You mean it?”
“I do. If you’re willing to move into my place—which, I’m warning you, is small—then who am I to tell you no? But we need to lay down some ground rules if we’re going to do this.”
His smile quickly turned perplexed. “Ground rules?”
“Yeah, like who gets the bathroom when and who does what chores and no sex. You know, the usual.”
Now he was frowning and it was all she could do not to crack up again. It was wrong of her to be enjoying this so much, but she couldn’t help it. After all the tension of the day, messing with him was a welcome relief.
“Do you have a problem with any of those rules?” she asked when she’d finally managed to choke down her mirth. The last thing she wanted him to know was how utterly and completely she expected this to fail.
“Well, you can have the bathroom whenever you want and I’ll hire someone to do the cleaning and I’ll do the rest of the chores. But the no-sex rule—I’m not really okay with that one, no.”
“Oh.” She kept her voice as innocent as possible. “That’s kind of a deal breaker for me, to be honest.”
“But we’ve already had sex. And—” he made a point of glancing at her stomach “—you’re pregnant. So, I’m not really sure what the point would be of abstaining.”
“The point is what I said back at the restaurant. I don’t know you. And my one and only one-night stand excluded, I’m not in the habit of sleeping with men I don’t know. So, yeah, it’s a deal breaker.”
“I’m your only one-night stand?”
She did laugh then, at the sheer ridiculousness of his response. “Seriously, that’s what you got out of what I said? That you’re my one and only?”
“No, I heard all of it. But that was definitely the most interesting part.”
“Of course it was,” she said with a snort. “You are such a guy.”
He shot her an amused look. “I never claimed to be anything else, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me that.” The words were instantaneous and forceful, welling up from a place she hadn’t thought of in years.
“What?” He looked mystified. “Sweetheart?”
“Yes, that. Don’t ever call me that.”
“Sure.” He held up a placating hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You didn’t upset me,” she contradicted him.
He didn’t respond, but the silence spoke louder than any words e
ver could. He knew she was lying, knew she’d had a strong and immediate reaction to that word. And still he wasn’t calling her on it. She didn’t know if that endeared him to her or just pissed her off.
It took a few minutes for the awkwardness to wear off, but Nic finally asked for directions to her apartment.
She kept her voice light and relaxed when she gave them, and eventually the last of the tension eased away. At least until he’d parked his car and started following her up the stairs to her apartment.
“Is there an elevator?” he asked after they’d started on the third flight.
“Nope,” she answered cheerfully.
“That’s going to be a problem for you the last couple months of your pregnancy, don’t you think?” She could practically hear the wheels turning in his head as he tried to figure out how to use this to get her out of the apartment and into his house.
Not that she would let that happen.
“I already asked my doctor about it. She said it should be fine—exercise is good for me and the baby. She did warn that if I ended up having a C-section, I wouldn’t be allowed to go up and down them the first few weeks, but at this point there’s nothing to indicate I’ll have anything but a normal delivery.” She smiled at him blithely.
“So, there are early indicators that someone might need a C-section?”
“Yes, but I don’t have any of them.” She reached for his hand, squeezed it, as they finally made it to her door. “Relax, Nic. Everything’s fine with my pregnancy so far. It’s totally boring, which is a good thing, my doctor assures me.”
He still didn’t look convinced, but he let it go as she unlocked her apartment door. “Are you coming in?” she asked after she’d stepped into her three-foot-by-three-foot entryway.
“Do you want me to?” He watched her face closely as he waited for her answer. “You look pretty tired.”
She felt pretty tired. The day had brought so many emotional highs and lows she felt as if she’d run a marathon—or maybe two. The exhaustion of her first trimester had disappeared a few weeks ago, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t tired at the end of every day. As Stephanie had told Desi the other day when she’d been caught napping in the break room, making another person was pretty hard work.