by Lisa Plumley
“Please don’t ask me that, Nick.”
“Chloe—”
She said nothing, just closed her eyes. When she opened them again, her slanted hazel-eyed gaze looked bright with determination.
“It’s just time I started acting like the responsible adult I am, that’s all.” She swiveled on a burst of new energy, making her high heels click against the tiled courtyard. “I do a good job running Red’s pet store and I’d be an equally good pet store owner. I’m not going to let Effram Griggs and his old cronies stand in my way. I’ll find a way to convince him yet.”
“There’s always a Phoenix bank.”
“No.”
“Or an assumable loan. Talk to Red and Jerry. What have you got to lose?”
“It’s not what I have to lose,” Chloe said. “It’s what they have to lose. I’m not telling them until everything’s all set.”
On tiptoes, she stuck her face in his. “And you’re keeping mum, too, mister,” she warned. “Not a word about this to anyone, okay?”
Nick held up two fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
She gave him a sassy grin and looked him up and down. “You’re no boy scout, Steadman.”
Not with the kind of thoughts he’d been having about her lately, he wasn’t. And Chloe was no damned campfire girl, either—not with the secrets she’d been keeping.
And he still wanted to know what they were.
“I still know how to light a fire.” He grinned. “It’s all in the way you lay the kindling.”
She quirked her lips. “Save it for your breathless admirers, Smokey. I’ve got things to do.”
Yeah—mysterious things.
Turning, she headed for the parking area with a little less sizzle in her stride and a lot more secrets than he’d suspected whirling in that crazy blonde head of hers. Suddenly, Chloe seemed something Nick had never imagined she could be—a woman of mystery.
He put his hand on her shoulder from behind, slowing her down to his speed. Beneath her smooth silk business-suit armor, her neck and shoulder muscles tensed like knotted steel. This particular loan denial had been especially hard for Chloe to take. He wanted to know why.
Hell, as her friend, it was practically his duty to find out why.
“Wait up,” he said.
He tucked his notebook beneath his elbow and kneaded her shoulders with both hands, hoping to coax out some of the tension and all of the truth. Her secret was getting bigger, and it was driving him crazy.
“I was serious back there,” he said. “You’ve tried for this loan three times now, and struck out every time—”
“Thanks, Mr. Encouragement.”
“You’re welcome. Anyway, three strikes now, and you’ve never been this upset before. What’s so special about this time?”
“You don’t want to come with me, Nick?” They reached his motorcycle and Chloe whirled to face him. “Is that what this is all about? You’ve got better things to do, I’ll bet. Like work yourself to death, maybe, or—”
“Hold on—”
She flashed him a belligerent look. “You know it’s true. Admit it.”
“Like hell, I will!” She sounded just like the rest of his family—every one of them proponents of shorter workdays, less ambition, and family, family, family, regardless of the cost.
She jutted her chin forward. “Have it your way. Live in denial. Live alone! It’s none of my business.”
“Aww, Chloe. Not you, too.”
She shrugged. “I’m your friend, not your … whatever.” Her voice cracked. “You don’t owe me anything. Not even an explanation for why you don’t want to bring me down to the bank anymore.”
“Wait a minute. I never said I wouldn’t bring you down to the bank anymore.” Chick logic. He’d never understand it. “Where did that come from?”
Her eyes welled up with—he’d swear it—honest-to-God tears. That’s how Nick knew it was a trick. Chloe never cried, especially not at advantageous moments like this one. But he still felt like hell anyway.
“Aww, come on. Just because I don’t want to turn into Joe Family Man like every other Steadman doesn’t mean I won’t help you out when you need it.”
“I don’t need it.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.” She sniffed and held out her arms for her helmet.
Nick handed her the purple metallic one she used, feeling vaguely as though he’d been outmaneuvered. He couldn’t pinpoint why … until he remembered what they’d been talking about before.
“Anyway, what’s so important about this one particular loan application?”
She stopped midway through putting on her helmet. With trembling hands, she slowly pulled it the rest of the way over her head. Buying time to think up another sidetracking tactic, he’d bet. What was her secret?
When her face came into view again, she was grinning.
“Like a dog with a bone, aren’t you?”
“Ruff.”
“Ha, ha.” Chloe hitched up her skirt and straddled his motorcycle, something he’d probably seen her do a million times—but never to this effect. Suddenly the early-April sunshine took on a searing, dizzying quality.
“Am I driving, or you?” she asked, blinking up at him just as calmly as though most of her thighs weren’t bared for the whole wide world to see. Didn’t she realize what a sight like that could do to a guy who wasn’t her best platonic male friend?
“I’m driving,” Nick gritted out.
“Okay.” Chloe unbuttoned her suit jacket and shrugged it off her shoulders. For real this time. Her bare skin gleamed in the reflected glare from his bike’s hot chrome.
Her bare skin.
Nick thought he might pass out.
Then she tugged off her jacket the rest of the way, revealing the skintight, nude-toned top she had on beneath it. His breath left him in a whoosh.
Think science thoughts, he commanded himself. Chloe smiled up at him, just as though she’d guessed what he’d been thinking before … and wanted him to know she approved.
No, that was nuts. She’d probably be appalled, Nick told himself as he watched her slide innocently from the back of his bike and wait for him to get on. He had to quit thinking of her this way.
“Look, you’re being irrational.” He hoped it wasn’t contagious. Trying to look serious, he tucked his chin into his shoulder so he could glimpse her behind him. “What’s the big deal with your loan, all of a sudden? What’s going on?”
Her arms sagged around his middle, then tightened. She sighed. He waited a second, then realized Chloe still wasn’t going to tell him.
Damn. Foiled again.
“Well,” she finally said. “As of this morning, I’m pretty sure I’m pregnant. Do you think that’s it?”
Chapter Four
“Pregnant?”
“You can stop saying that now, Nick.” Chloe whipped off her helmet and shoved it toward him. “I’m pretty sure I understood the first twenty-two times you said it on the way home.”
Thankfully, now they were parked on the paved driveway at his house. Free to make her getaway, she jumped off the back of his motorcycle. More than her ankles wobbled when she hit the ground. “Okay?” she asked, her voice breaking on the word.
“Okay.” He hesitated … then swore instead. “Dammit, Chloe. This isn’t the kind of secret I was expecting.”
Ha. He didn’t know the half of it.
“Umm, surprise! I guess,” she said weakly.
He frowned.
Oh, geez—Nick was never going to buy this. She wasn’t prepared at all. She needed a better strategy, one that would keep him off the trail of the truth. It was for his own good, after all. Who was she to wreck his life plans, to sidetrack his dreams, to saddle him with responsibilities he didn’t want?
Nobody, that’s who. Chloe decided to retreat.
It didn’t work. Nick tailed her all the way across the side yard bordering their matching red brick, white-trimmed houses, mumbling something about secrets an
d women of mystery.
Clearly, escape was futile.
Sidestepping a patch of blooming prickly pear cactus, Chloe reached her front porch and abandoned her hopes that Nick might actually let her get away without having this discussion. So far, he wasn’t handling the news very well.
And she hadn’t even gotten to the good part yet.
All she wanted was to be alone. To postpone all the explanations and have some time to think. Her loan application had tanked, her so-called best friend was having a meltdown, and it wasn’t even happy hour yet.
Not that a cocktail would’ve helped—or even been advisable, under the circumstances. Maybe a milkshake.
Or maybe a prenatal vitamin. Did those give you extra pep? She hoped so, because she was going to need it to deal with Nick. A trip to the doctor was definitely in order, and soon.
Until then, she had a secret to keep—or at least part of one. With elaborate casualness, Chloe fished her keys from her purse and started unlocking her front door. The moment she finished, Nick’s hand clamped onto hers and twisted the knob. She could barely breathe as he barreled them both inside.
“Pregnant?” he asked again, shutting the door behind them. “You’re actually pregnant.”
“No, it’s all a big joke. Get it?”
“What?”
The force of his yell backed her across the living room, stumbling over microscopic bumps in the carpet. Then his arms came up and trapped her between his chest and the living room wall. His body heat washed over her, as searing as his expression.
“Explain,” Nick said, grinding the word through his teeth.
“Sheesh, I’ve never seen you like—”
“Now.”
Great. She’d reduced him to monosyllabic responses. This was serious.
He pressed forward, pinning her beneath a scary glare that did a lot to explain what probably went wrong between him and what’shername.
Chloe pressed her lips together and kept mum.
Nick saw straight through her. But then he’d always been able to before. What made her think she could deceive him now?
Desperation, that’s what.
“Please explain,” he growled.
Civility, however grudgingly given, counted toward progress, Chloe supposed. But something in his voice still made her shiver.
Under different circumstances and minus the Incredible Hulk routine, she might have enjoyed their nearness. As it was, she did her best not to think about wanting his arms holding her close instead of caging her in, and tilted her chin as defiantly as she could.
“The Neanderthal routine doesn’t suit you, Nick.”
He blinked, a perfect picture of disbelief. She’d have preferred a portrait of understanding or even cheer-me-up humor, but she wasn’t going to get it. Not this time.
“Neande—” He stopped on a frown, straightened his specs with one hand, and tried again. “Never mind. You’re not sidetracking me this time.”
He stared straight into her eyes, looking analytical and determined and not half as tender as she’d hoped a prospective father might, and Chloe knew she’d set a tough task for herself. How could she keep a secret she didn’t want to keep? Especially from somebody as inquisitive as Nick?
She wasn’t sure, but she had to try.
“Chloe,” he began, sounding suspiciously patient, “exactly how did this happen?”
Good question. She should’ve been ready for it, but she wasn’t. Behind her, Moe meowed and Larry barked to be let in the back door, but now wasn’t the time to be distracted. The sooner she got this over with, the better.
She ducked beneath his arms to put some distance between them, then threw her suit jacket onto the sofa and faced him with her hands on her hips. “Oh, I dunno, Nick. The usual way, I guess. You know.”
His gaze whipped over her, lingered in the neighborhood of her hips—gauging her suitability for childbearing, she supposed—then rose to her face. He swallowed.
She’d stunned him into silence. Maybe the idea of somebody finding his platonic pal Chloe sexy threw him for a loop.
Ouch.
“‘You know?’” Nick mimicked. “‘You know?’ What does that mean?”
“You’re turning red in the face, Nick. Do you want some water? I’ll get you some water.” She headed for the kitchen. For sanctuary.
He grabbed her arm and hauled her back. “I want answers.”
“Would you believe … immaculate conception?”
“Answers. Now.”
“I didn’t think so.”
Okay. Be strong, she told herself. Stick as close to the truth as possible.
“The truth is, I—I met someone,” Chloe said, keeping her gaze trained on his T-shirt’s football helmet logo. “We talked, we laughed, we … .”
We loved, she wanted to say. But he didn’t want to hear it, and she couldn’t stand lingering over what she couldn’t have. “We’re over.”
“Over.”
“Yeah.” She kicked off her heels and padded into the kitchen, wanting to maximize the distance between her and Nick before she started bawling over lost loves and best friends and second chances that couldn’t be. Behind her, his breath whooshed out as he sank onto the sofa and put his feet up.
“These things happen you know,” Chloe called over the opened refrigerator door. “Over. As in you and what’shername.”
“She has a name,” came Nick’s voice from the living room. “I just … dammit, Chloe! You’ve been calling her what’shername for so long, I can’t remember what it is.”
Good. And good—he was sidetracked successfully. Maybe she could handle this secret stuff after all. She grinned despite everything and shoved the fridge shut with her toe, then carried two slippery cold soda cans into the living room with her.
“Serves you right,” she said, handing him one, “for dating more women than you can count.”
“I can count ‘em. I just can’t keep ‘em.”
“Maybe they can tell you’re already wedded to your work,” Chloe said. “They know there’s no future with a guy who kisses with one hand on his research notebook.”
“Hmmph.” He turned his gaze on her as she curled up on the other end of her vibrant red plaid sofa, then gave her a bad-boy’s smile. “I use both hands when the situation warrants it.”
I know.
“I’ll bet,” she said aloud, turning her slippery can of diet cola in her hand as she groped for the tab to crack it open. She found it and hesitated with one finger hooked beneath, conjuring up a mock shudder. “But spare me the details, Casanova. I don’t want to know.”
I want to experience it again.
Too bad she never would.
“Then we’re even,” Nick said, sounding weary. “Because I’m not sure I’m ready for the nitty gritty details of your love life, either.”
Good. Because she wasn’t ready to tell him all the things he didn’t really want to know. And bad—because that had to be the shortest sidetracking on record. He was already back on the case.
But silently. Beside her in his habitual spot, Nick let his head loll back along the sofa’s cushions, eyes closed. Probably still absorbing her pregnancy news.
Well, so was she. Maybe for now it would be best to just leave Nick alone and give them both some breathing room. If she was lucky, maybe he’d take an impromptu nap or something, and grant her a half-hour’s respite.
Fat chance. Chloe opened her soda, slurping at the fizz that crackled out, and Nick’s head turned unerringly toward the sound. His eyes opened.
“You almost had me sidetracked again,” he said. “You might as well give up, Chloe, because—” His gaze landed on her diet cola can, halfway to her lips, and whatever he’d been about to say sputtered beneath his next words.
“Are you insane?” he yelled.
“What?”
He flung himself across the stretch of red plaid separating them and yanked her diet cola out of her hand. “This is bad for you,” he s
aid, plunking it onto her scarred square coffee table. “You’ve got to start taking care of yourself better.”
“I’m a grown woman, Nick. I—”
His thumb touched her lips and startled her into silence. “You’re a woman with a … a baby. That means things are going to change for you.”
Change? That sounded promising. Maybe he meant they’d … No. That was only wishful thinking. That was the first thing she’d have to change—by cutting it out of her life. She slumped against the sofa cushions and eyeballed her soda longingly while Nick went on talking.
“You’ll have to watch what you eat, what you drink, what you do,” he said, warming up to his expertise. “Things like that—” his gaze shifted to her banished diet soda can “—are off limits.”
She rolled her eyes. “Who are you, Mister Spock?”
“That’s Doctor Spock. And no, I’m not.”
“Look, this is practically the twenty-first century, and you’re—”
“I’m just a guy who’s been an uncle four times over, Miss Only Child,” Nick interrupted, “and that’s four times more experience with things baby and pregnancy-related than you.”
Chloe saluted. “Yes, sir.”
His concern was touching, if a little overbearing. “Maybe you’d like to carry the baby yourself? I’m sure there’ve been supersecret scientific advances by now that would let you do it. You’re connected with the science community, Nick. You should look into it.”
“Fun-ny.” He picked himself up off the sofa with a new aura of purpose, then paused to tousle her hair. “But ridiculous.”
He was right. No man would submit to maternity clothes.
His fingers trailed away as he stepped over her legs and edged between the coffee table and sofa, headed for the kitchen. Sighing, Chloe watched him leave. His brief caress left her temporarily crazy, wanting to drag his hand back to her head, thrust his fingers back into her hair, even demolish her entire hairstyle … just to feel him touch her again. But that was impossible, so she stuck both palms beneath her thighs and reminded herself that no price was too great to preserve their friendship.
Except maybe whatever … glop in a glass Nick handed her a few minutes later. He emerged from the kitchen carrying it, looking so triumphant that she forgave whatever mess he’d created with all the banging and slamming he’d been doing.