Working on a Full House

by Alyssa Kress

  "So, you're a poker player...from Las Vegas?" she hummed, thinking.

  "I spend most of my time in Vegas." He plucked a palette knife from the shelf next to her, looking at Cherise, however, instead of the knife. "Although I have a feeling I'm going to be spending a lot more of my time now in Palmwood, California."

  He did, did he? Well, sure. He had at least two women he planned to string along in Palmwood, didn't he? The two-timing —

  "In that case..." Cherise reached for the palette knife in his hand. "In that case, I'd better be sure to get rid of you. Completely." She plucked the knife from his fingers with a smile colder than the South Pole.

  His healthy white teeth flashed. "I have a possible solution."

  "Do you?"

  "Have dinner with me," the goat requested. "Tonight."

  But he was supposed to have dinner with Valerie tonight. Cherise was almost sure of it. Her smile twisted. "And if I agree to this ordeal, you'll promise never to bother me again?"

  "If I haven't convinced you we were meant for each other."

  "The prospect is doubtful."

  "You want to kill me. Just do it now. Sharp object through the heart. That ought to do the trick."

  Fingering the palette knife, Cherise thought a sharp object through the heart would be much too easy for the likes of him. "Fine, I'll have dinner with you. But — not tonight." She spoke slowly, considering a suitable torment for him. "Friday," she decided.

  "Friday?" He looked stunned, as if he hadn't actually dreamed his pick-up attempt would work. "No kidding?"

  "We'll meet...here." Cherise didn't want him knowing where she lived or worked. "Six-thirty."

  "Friday. Six-thirty." His smile was absolutely delighted and even, strangely...innocent. "I'll be here."

  Cherise tightened her hand around her art supplies. He wasn't innocent. Far from it. She made herself clear to him. "But the deal is you have to go now, leave me alone."

  A flicker of suspicion crossed his face, but he seemed to will it away, as if he'd much rather believe than suspect. "Okay," he said meekly. "I'll leave. And...thanks." He smiled with pure joy, like a man without a speck on his conscience.

  And then, before Cherise could guess what was coming next, he took her wrist, pulled her toward him, and punched a brief, smack of a kiss on her lips. Warm, vital, and full of life.

  Damn if it didn't make Cherise's lips tingle.

  A moment later she was watching the back of his sweater vest as he strode down the aisle and out of the store.

  Her lips were still tingling.

  No, oh no. She wasn't falling for this man. Not even a little bit, not even enough to feel sorry for him.

  And on Friday she was going to destroy him. She tossed the palette knife back onto the shelf. Just see if she didn't.

  ~~~

  Fifteen minutes after leaving the office, Valerie parked her car in her garage then hurried through the door to the kitchen. She'd just set down her purse and keys when the telephone rang.

  Her heart jumped with excitement. Okay, she was excited. Sue her. She made sure to keep her tone normal, however, when she answered. "Hello."

  "Hello, Val."

  Her eyes closed at the sound of his rich brandy voice. "Roy," she said, her lips curving into a smile. It was okay to smile, though, even to smile dopily, since he couldn't see it. Nor could he hear the way her heart beat or see the way she'd rushed home in order to get this call. She couldn't embarrass herself by the way she totally overreacted to this friend of hers.

  "Glad I caught you," Roy said. "How are you feeling today?"

  "Better," Valerie claimed.

  "Really? No nausea?"

  Her smile widened at his tone of disbelief. "Well, not exactly, but I figure if I tell myself that often enough, it'll start to come true."

  His chuckle was deep and vibrated through Valerie with undiluted pleasure. Oh, and why should she dilute it? With him there and her here, she could fantasize all she wanted. Over the telephone she couldn't do anything too dangerously stupid — like fall into bed with a man who felt friendship and responsibility, but nothing more.

  Valerie took the mobile phone and ambled through the dining room. "How have you been?"

  "Me? I'm great. Funny thing that. Pregnancy doesn't affect the man at all."

  Valerie stuck her tongue in her cheek. She didn't know if she'd agree. Once Roy had found out he was going to become a father, his attitude toward responsibility had changed completely.

  In the living room, she sank into a sofa. "How's Kenny?"

  "Oh, Kenny? Ahem. He's fine. As obnoxious as ever, but fine. Did that horrible woman come back into the office today?"

  "You mean Mrs. Appleby?" Valerie shuddered. As she recounted the latest in the saga of the over-demanding parent, she relaxed into the sofa. Their conversations did digress from the baby, she had to admit. After she finished talking about the horrid Mrs. Appleby, Roy told her about a game he'd been at the night before, making Valerie laugh. They discussed the quality of various hotels on the Strip and then a proposed zoning ordinance for the district in which Valerie lived.

  Friendship. Valerie wasn't imagining that much was growing between them. They had plenty to talk about every night, even though they'd only spoken the night before. When they fell into a silence, as they did now, it didn't feel uncomfortable. Sometimes they paused for long interludes until one or the other thought of the next thing they wanted to say.

  Roy was the one who broke the silence this time. "I was thinking..."

  Valerie leaned back on the couch and crossed one leg over the other on the cushions. Lazily, she asked, "What were you thinking?"

  "I was thinking of coming to see you."

  Valerie froze with the toe of one foot poised to idly scratch the ankle of the other.

  What?

  "No big deal," Roy went on, his voice deep. "Just for a few days."

  No big deal? Valerie's heart started attacking her chest.

  "You're pregnant, so you're automatically taking care of the baby," he went on. "I...want to help. The closest I can come up with is taking care of you."

  Valerie was still frozen with one foot atop the other ankle, utterly panicked. He wanted to come see her. But — he couldn't come here. They couldn't see each other, in person. That's what made these conversations — and her ridiculous fantasies — safe. If he came here — ?

  "Um." Valerie uncrossed her ankles and tried to produce something more intelligent.

  "I know you're fatigued," Roy went on, sounding less shy now and more determined. "I could do errands for you. Cook. Run a load or two of laundry."

  In the midst of her growing alarm, Valerie felt a bubble of amusement. Roy the Wolf, doing her laundry. The urge to laugh opened her vocal chords. "Truly, Roy, that's awfully sweet of you — " Awfully sweet. But impossible. It was imperative to keep a physical distance between them. "But I can do my own laundry. Really."

  "I want to, Valerie."

  "Ah." For a second, one insane moment, she wondered if his wanting to come could actually mean something more. Could he want to see her?

  "Not to mention I wouldn't mind meeting your doctor, you know, your OB/GYN?" Roy spoke sternly. "In fact, I consider that imperative. Wouldn't you agree, Valerie?"

  "Oh. My doctor." A chord of guilt vibrated. He had a point. He did have a right to meet her doctor, but all the same, that didn't mean he had to come here, to see Valerie, did it? Roy could talk to her doctor on the telephone.

  "Aren't you supposed to be able to hear the baby's heartbeat soon?" Roy asked.

  "You want to hear the baby's heartbeat?" Ridiculous question. Of course Roy would want to be present at all such major events, and he wouldn't be able to do it over a telephone. "But still — "

  "It's not just what I want, Valerie," Roy went on, sounding more determined than ever. "It's my right."

  Was it? Valerie's panic flared. Was he correct about that? Did he have a right to see the mother of his baby?


  Valerie sat up straight on the sofa, with her feet on the ground and her hand on her forehead. Okay, but even if he did have a right to see her, and hear the baby's heartbeat, he didn't have to do it immediately. She needed time to get used to the idea, to figure out how to inoculate herself against his immediate presence.

  He was just so — so him. It would be much too easy to fall under the spell of her own fantasies and make out more to their interactions than there really was. Or than she even wanted there to be. The man was a gambler, for crying out loud.

  "I hear what you're saying, Roy, and I get where you're coming from." Something. There had to be some good reason to keep him away. At least, for the immediate future.

  As if in response to her dire need for more time to think, the doorbell rang.

  Valerie let out a breath of relief. "But there's someone at the door. Let me think about this, Roy. I'll — I'll call you back." Meanwhile she got up from the sofa and started moving toward the foyer.

  "What's to think about? You're pregnant with my baby and I want to help."

  Valerie rolled her eyes. "It isn't that simple." Though damned if she could explain why not.

  "I think you're making too big a deal out of this."

  Sure. That's what he thought. He wouldn't get all stupid and infatuated if they met again, face to face.

  "Right," Valerie said. "Well, I really have to answer the door now, so..."

  "Please. Answer the door. I'll wait."

  Valerie pulled the telephone away from her face and stuck out her tongue at it. Fine, then. Let him wait. She hoped it took a while. With the telephone in one hand, she opened the door with the other.

  And stopped breathing.

  Leaned against the wall of her front entryway, Roy pressed off his cell phone. For a long moment they simply stood and stared at each other. In that moment, God help her, Valerie wasn't thinking about the man's utter gall in showing up on her front doorstep. All she could think — no, all she could feel — was the intoxicating pleasure of being in his presence, of feeling his cool gray eyes upon her, and of drinking in every masculine, potent inch of him.

  Then she breathed again. Of all the — She should throw him out on his ear. She should tell him where he could get off. She should — She should —

  Musical tones emanated from her telephone. "If you would like to make a call," a pre-recorded voice instructed her. "Please hang up and try again. If you would like to make a call — "

  She should probably turn off her telephone, Valerie decided, and clicked the button.

  The cool determination that had been in Roy's eyes faded into something far less certain. The way he bit his cheek made him look almost fearful. "So," he asked quietly. "Are you going to let me in?"

  For an instant Valerie thought about it. Yes, she actually owned that much gumption. For about two seconds she considered sending him on his way with her door in his face.

  But that was as far as it went, a split-second of thought. She didn't have that much gumption. Or maybe she didn't own that much cruelty. He was looking more scared by the second. Plus, she didn't want to send him away. Oh, my God, he was here. He'd driven a hundred and fifty miles — to see her.

  No, no, no. To take care of the baby, a voice of reason screeched in her head. Not to see you.

  She breathed in sharply. Okay, whatever. He was here. And she was a pushover.

  Looking into his cool wolf eyes, Valerie stepped back from the door. "Come on in."

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  It was only when she stepped back from the door, letting him in, that Roy was able to breathe again. "Thanks," he murmured, and strode inside before she could change her mind.

  He hadn't expected to feel like this — not only weak-kneed with relief, but bowled over by physical awareness of her. When she'd opened her door, he'd got it all in one blow: dark eyes, gentle wave of hair, and the understated femininity beneath her sober business outfit. It was an order of magnitude more powerful than when he'd spied her on the sidewalk earlier, outside Valley Pediatric. In one swift rush he remembered just how her body had once felt beneath him.

  "Guess I might as well put this away." Wry, Valerie held up her cordless telephone.

  "Sure."

  When she turned to walk away, he followed right after, unwilling to stay too close to the door, where she might still kick him out.

  They went through a dining room and into an airy kitchen. The house looked mid-sized, nice, but Roy was mostly looking at Valerie. Over the telephone he'd forgotten how sensuous she was, in an unconscious, even dismissive, way. It made him want to...wake her up to it.

  With a firm gesture, she set the telephone in its place on a wall bracket in the kitchen. Then, just as firmly, she turned to face him.

  She was majorly pissed. Roy was going to have do some big time damage control. But that was okay. He was astounded she'd even let him in.

  "So." Her voice held a definite edge of frost.

  Roy decided to smile. He hoped it came off sheepish. "Ahem. So," he agreed.

  She smiled and shook her head at the same time, a reprimanding gesture. "I can't believe you did this."

  Roy bit the inside of his cheek. That made two of them. When Kenny had abandoned him on Brand Avenue, Roy had decided this would be a very bad idea, to show up without asking. Totally pushy. But on the other hand, he needed to move this thing forward, where he knew it had to go — with them together. They were going to be a family, dammit. "You agreed I could visit," he gently reminded her.

  "Did I?"

  "Uh...I thought you were going to."

  She gave him a good hard stare. "Did you?"

  Damage control wasn't going so well. Roy crossed his arms over his chest and went on the offensive. "I want to meet your doctor. She should be able to hear the baby's heartbeat — what? Next week? And then there's the ultrasound. Et cetera, et cetera."

  He could tell by the pink staining her face that she was privately conceding his points, but she pressed her lips thinly together. "Next week is next week."

  Roy smiled. "No problem. I can come next week, too."

  Her eyes flashed up at him, dark, frustrated — and exciting. Then she flabbergasted him. She laughed.

  Heat flashed through him. It took every ounce of self-control he owned not to reach for her. Good thing, too, for she quickly sobered.

  "Fine," she said, with a sigh. "You can visit." She waved a hand. "Do stuff with regard to the baby. But — you're not staying here."

  He was a poker player; he met her gaze unflinchingly. "Okay. I won't stay here."

  It took the wind out of her sails. If he wasn't completely crazy, she was even disappointed, like she'd wanted him to put up a fight about where he was going to spend the night.

  "Okay." She rolled her shoulders. "Good. I'm glad we're clear on that."

  "Sure, Val. I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

  She shot him a brief, suspicious look.

  He did his best to look sincere, which was difficult because he wasn't. Now that she'd let him through the door, indicating that much surrender, he was determined to sleep here. Very soon.

  They were going to be a real family.

  "All right," she said, sighing again. "So now what?"

  Roy thought of Kenny, who he'd have to call at some point, and did his best to look harmless. "So now why don't you show me around your house?"

  ~~~

  He wanted to see her house. Valerie narrowed her eyes. Oh. Was that the real reason he was here, to check out her house? That actually made sense. This new, responsible Roy would want to inspect the future digs of his progeny.

  Flustered, Valerie wondered what he would think of the place. "Oh," she said, and hoped it came off as nonchalant. "Sure. I guess I could show you around."

  "Great." He looked down at the black-and-white checked counter. "I take it this is the kitchen." He fingered a ceramic sugar bowl, the one in the shape of a Holstein. His smile quirked. "Nice."
r />   "Yes, well." The sugar bowl was...cute. Probably too cute, but that was the sort of thing Valerie liked. Cute. Homey. She lifted her chin. "This is the kitchen."

  "Uh huh. And over here — " He started for the door. "Over this way, I take it, is the dining room."

  "That is correct."

  Roy was taking over the tour, leading the way out the kitchen door and into the dining room.

  Valerie scurried after him, already dismayed by the way this was going. She found him at a standstill in the dining room, staring at a needlepoint flower picture she had on the wall.

  He was wearing a strange, soft smile. Then he was moving, going back to the front hall.

  "Upstairs." He pointed in that direction. "Bedrooms?"

  Standing in the archway from the dining room, Valerie crossed her arms over her chest. What else would be upstairs? But the way he was smiling, it almost seemed like he was going to make fun of it.

  "So." He gestured. "May I?"

  Unfortunately, Valerie couldn't think of a reason to say no. But she didn't have to cheerlead. "Go ahead," she said, and lifted one shoulder.

  Unfazed by her lack of enthusiasm, he started up the stairs.

  Valerie wasn't about to let him go up there all by himself. She followed.

  He disappeared into the first bedroom with Valerie close behind. Flowered curtains draped the windows. Roy stopped beside the bed to smooth a hand over the faded, old-fashioned quilt. There was a peculiar expression on his face before his lips quirked again, the way they had over the Holstein sugar bowl.

  Valerie's annoyance spiked. Where did he get off being amused by her house? He didn't even have one!

  Still smiling, he straightened and started for the door, where she now stood.

  Valerie took a quick step back. "There's a bathroom, then another bedroom on this side of the hall," she heard herself explaining as he followed her into the hall. "The master suite looks out over the street." Maybe if she described it all, he wouldn't insist on seeing it — and smiling over it.

  Meanwhile, he gave her a strange look. "That's a lot of bedrooms."