The Baby Bump

by Tara Wylde

  Lucy

  The kiss sends shock waves ricocheting through Maxie, rendering her unable to think, to move, to do anything but lose herself in the incredible kiss.

  She’d thought Dillion, also known as Captain Manipulation, a name he took because he has the ability to not only manipulate shadows, but to also warp time, and even, occasionally, use the power of suggestion to help encourage people to take a specific action, was a great kisser, but it was nothing compared to this Heat Flare.

  Just as Maxie’s knees turn to jelly, Heat Flare draws back.

  He stares deep into her eyes and strokes a finger along her cheek while Maxie valiantly tries to unscramble her brain.

  “Until next time,” he whispers in her ear before he steps back and takes a massive leap and soars into the pretty blue sky.

  As rational thought slowly returns to Maxie, she glares up at the sky, furious both that she’s let another superhero get his mouth on her and that this one flew away as easily as the other walked out doors.

  If Ryan weren’t sitting in the car beside me, I’d bang my head against the steering wheel. Since that’s not an option, I settle on inserting the key into the ignition and twisting it with more force than is strictly necessary.

  The entire day has been nothing but one emotional roller coaster ride and I really don’t know how I feel about it.

  I steer my car out to the street, hardly noticing that Ryan is driving directly behind me. I lift a hand and press my fingers to my lips, which still tingle from his kiss.

  The first time was quick and unexpected. I barely had time to process what was happening before it ended, but at the restaurant… That was completely different.

  In the car, Ryan acted like he’d forced himself on me. While it’s true, he hadn’t exactly asked permission, this time I’d known it was coming. If I’d wanted to reject him, I’d had enough time to do so. But I hadn’t.

  The truth is, I’d wanted him to kiss me since he first proposed that we become a fake couple. Partly because as I got to know Ryan, I learned that he was a sweet, charming guy, with a great smile and a generous nature, and partly because I wanted to know if his kiss had been as bone meltingly perfect as it had felt in the coffee shop.

  Now I know. My memory wasn’t nearly as good as the real thing.

  Ryan isn’t as a good a kisser as I remember. He is way better. I couldn’t believe how a relatively innocent kiss has awoken things inside of me I’ve never felt before. In the coffee shop, his kiss made my toes curl. When he sat me on his car, he lit a fire I’ve yet to douse.

  Had he not noticed those kids hanging out on the edge of the restaurant parking lot and pulled back when he did, I most likely would have begged him to take me right then and there.

  Part of me wishes I had.

  My car dings at me, distracting me from my thoughts. I look down at my dashboard, where a warning sign glows bright red. Apparently, a gas fairy didn’t visit my car while it was sitting in the parking lot and fill up the gas tank.

  I eyeball the gas gauge and try to calculate the amount to see if it’s enough to get me home and back to the gas station in the morning.

  Deciding it’s not worth the risk, I make a swing into the parking lot of a closed hardware store so I can reverse and backtrack down Main Street, my stomach clenching as the car directly behind me repeats the movement. I relax when I spot Ryan behind the wheel.

  The only gas station I’ll use after dark is a small but brightly lit establishment that sits kitty-corner to the police department. Since the place always has a nice selection of fresh doughnuts, cookies, and high-quality coffee on hand, almost always at least one, sometimes more squad cars are parked in front of the building.

  I park beside the pump closest to the building and get out of my car as Ryan pulls in.

  I think back to my last words to him and a strange fluttering motion settles in my stomach. Did he think I was extending an invitation?

  He gets out of his car as I flip open my gas tank and start filling it with the expensive, stinky liquid. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch him lean against the side of his car. I feel the weight of his gaze on me.

  “Aren’t you going to fill up?”

  Ryan shakes his head. “Nah. I’ve got plenty.”

  “Then why are you here?” I stare at the flashing numbers on the gas pump’s information panel and struggle to put all thoughts of our kiss out of my mind.

  “I wanted to make sure you get home safe.” Ryan crosses his arms over his chest and looks up at one of the security cameras.

  His words send a rush of warmth through me. Maybe because we live in a time when guys just don’t do all that many nice, chivalrous things, like holding doors open for women. There’s no way my last boyfriend would have worried about me getting home safely.

  “You don’t have to do that,” I tell him. “This town isn’t exactly a hot bed of criminal activity.”

  Ryan’s gaze captures mine. “I want to.”

  I blush and fumble with the pump. I don’t know what to say.

  I slide the nozzle back into the socket and pull my credit card out of my pocket to pay. A small blue piece of paper falls out and blows across the faded asphalt. Ryan bends and catches it.

  He reads what’s written on it and his eyes widen. “What’s this about?”

  I snatch the printed receipt from the pump and shove it and my credit card back into my pocket and turn toward Ryan. “What’s what about?”

  “This.” He thrusts the small square of paper into my hand.

  It’s from a sticky note pad. Dirt and a bit of lint stick to the small strip of glue. On the non-glue side are the words ‘BACK OFF’ written in ink. Whoever wrote them went over each letter several times and pressed down so hard that in a few places the pen actually punctured the thin paper.

  The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “I’ve never seen this before.”

  Ryan stares at the note in my hand. “It fell out of your coat pocket,” he says, his voice low and serious. “It reads like a threat.”

  “Yeah, I realize that,” I tell him, my own voice an octave higher than normal, “but I’m telling you, I have no idea where it came from or even what it means. It probably got stuck to something that I put in my pocket.” I toss the note into the trash. “There,” I tell Ryan. “Problem solved.” If only I could dismiss the sudden sense of unease it triggered just as easily.

  Ryan frowns and stares at the trash can. “Maybe you should turn that in to the police.”

  “And tell them what? That we found a weird note, but we don’t know who it’s from, who it was meant for, or even where it came from?” I swing back toward my car. “Now, if you don’t mind, it’s been a long day. I’m tired and I just want to go home.”

  By the time I snap my seat belt on, Ryan is already in the BMW. I’m not surprised when he follows me out of the gas station.

  My house isn’t anything fancy, but it’s mine. It sits on a quiet side street and is located just a little to the right of the city center. The residents who live in this part of town are either older and have lived here most of their adult life, or are first-time home owners who, like me, sometimes find it difficult to make their paycheck stretch far enough to stay on top of their bills.

  My own single floor home is small, but cute, or at least it will be when I finally get around to replacing the faded siding and add a little landscaping to the yard. Since I don’t have a garage, I pull into my customary space beside the porch.

  Ryan parks behind me and gets out of his car.

  My stomach churns as I wonder if he expects me to invite him in. I can’t even remember how long it’s been since the last time I had to decide what I should do with a guy after a date.

  I wipe my suddenly sweaty palms on the side of my jeans and turn to face Ryan.

  He’s studying my house, which looks better at night than during the day. “Nice place.”

  “I like it.”

  Ryan’s attention sw
ings back to me. His expression causes my pulse to quicken. I sense more than see his hand reaching out, slowly moving toward me until it finally reaches my face. The tip of his thumb slowly brushes my lower lip as he outlines it, setting off a tingle that slides down my body.

  Sighing, I lean into his touch. Even as I wish for his lips to replace his thumb, I make a decision.

  “Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee … or something?”

  Ryan’s eyes light up and he grins, but shakes his head. “Thanks, but not tonight.”

  Disappointment zings through me.

  Clearly, I made a mistake. He doesn’t want me. All of his actions today really were for the sake of his career. And I really can’t get mad at him about that, can I? It’s not like I didn’t know the score when we entered into this farcical relationship.

  “So, I guess this is goodnight then.” It’s not easy to keep the grinding disappointment out of my voice, but somehow, I manage.

  “Guess so,” Ryan confirms, his voice whisper soft.

  He reaches out, taking my hand in his, holding it lightly as he lifts it to his mouth and places a light kiss to my knuckles in an old-fashioned gesture that charms me. My hand trembles. Much more of this and I just might forget that this thing between us isn’t real and I’ll actually start falling for him.

  And that would be the worst possible thing I could do.

  Lucy

  Heat Flare’s blue eyes sparkle in the sunlight and he grins, showing off a pair of adorable dimples. “Just can’t get enough of me, can you?”

  Maxie grinds her teeth together and does her best to not think about just how stunningly handsome he is, or how well his outfit shows off his truly amazing physique. She loves Dillion; he’s the only man she should be noticing right now.

  So why did the slightest touch from Heat Flare make her nerve endings sizzle? And why couldn’t she stop thinking about that last kiss and wondering when he’d kiss her again?

  “Ugh.” I transfer it from my mattress to my bedside table and flop down.

  I decided to work on my book in an attempt to deal with some of the restlessness that made it impossible for me to relax. I’d thought that writing a nice romantic love scene for Maxie and Dillion would be the perfect way to put Ryan Jakes out of my mind, but Heat Flare and Maxie’s surprise and apparently relentless attraction to him is making that impossible.

  As much as I like the idea of creating a love triangle with Maxie, Dillion, and Heat Flare, I meant it to be a mild sub-plot. Another challenge for the fictional lovers to overcome.

  So why is it that the only scenes I want to write are the ones that involve the super sexy superhero Ryan Jakes inspired?

  I stare at the picture of the smiling young man that I keep on my dresser. Lance Brooks. My one true love. He’s been gone for more than three years now.

  Like Ryan is the inspiration for Heat Flare, the character of Dillion is one hundred percent Lance. Creating Dillion was something I did in a desperate attempt to hold onto my memories of Lance which, lately, have been starting to fade.

  I won’t let that happen. In addition to promising to love him and only him forever, I also swore I’d never forget him.

  And that is exactly what it feels like is happening.

  What’s worse is that instead of Dillion’s hands on my body, of Dillion’s mouth kissing me, Dillion’s voice whispering in my ear, my imagination keeps replacing him with Ryan, and that scares me to death.

  Nothing good can come from taking my fake fling with Ryan to another level. Like Margo said, he’s way out of my league. Once he’s gotten what he wants from me, he’ll move on, and eventually that will include hooking up with a woman who’s perfectly suited for his fast and glamorous lifestyle.

  And, since he didn’t want to come in, didn’t even kiss me good night while we were standing in the driveway, he’s clearly not really interested in me.

  I punch my pillow in a futile attempt to make it more comfortable.

  I can’t stop thinking about that last kiss we shared.

  It’s like Ryan’s taste and feel have worked their way directly into my blood stream, infecting it, making me crave just one more, even as I know that one more will never be enough. I’ve never felt this way before and I don’t like it.

  The next time I see Ryan, I’m either going to kill him for triggering this weird obsession – or jump him.

  I shut off the light and close my eyes, willing sleep to come, but of course it doesn’t. I’m too keyed up.

  With no conscious thought on my part, my hand moves to my bedside table and slides open the single drawer. My fingers grope around in the space until I find my rabbit and tug it from its hiding place at the back of the drawer.

  Just holding the electronic device is enough for me to break out in a sweat. My fingers stroke its length, but I don’t activate it.

  Logically, I know there’s no shame in pleasuring myself, that it’s actually perfectly natural, but each time I find myself using the toy, I can’t stop feeling ashamed, like using it somehow means I’m being disloyal to Lance. I can’t shake the feeling that his memory should be enough to keep me warm and satisfied.

  I try taking comfort in the fact that on the times when I can’t resist using the device to relieve tension, I picture Lance’s face.

  But not now. Despite my best efforts, even though I’m lying just a few feet from his photo, Lance isn’t the one my mind focuses on. The only guy I can think about is Ryan.

  I imagine Ryan stalking closer, a predatory gleam in his eye as he climbs onto the bed, my mattress dipping beneath his weight, rolling me closer. He lowers himself over me, his arms and legs tangling with mine as his mouth captures mine in a soul baring kiss. I reach for his belt, undoing the buckle before shoving his pants down his powerful thighs, freeing his cock as his magic hands slide up and down my body, discovering sensual places I didn’t even realize existed until this very second. I arch my spine, thrusting against him as his cock finds and breaches my entrance.

  Unbearable liquid heat pools at my core as I activate my rabbit and slide it between my thighs before giving free rein to my imagination.

  Lucy

  Sweat drips down my spine as I stand in the middle of the small kitchen and add another twenty potatoes to the enormous pot of water boiling on the stove.

  Lindsey Malburg looks over and grins. “Lucy, I really can’t thank you enough for pitching in. You’re a real-life saver.”

  “Yeah, no problem,” I tell her.

  I wasn’t like I had much choice. Suzie had woken me up early this morning with a panicked phone call, completely freaked out that the catering company she’d hired for the reception workforce had been hit by the flu bug. They told her that while they were happy to bring the food they’d prepared in advance, if they couldn’t find some extra hands to help out, some sacrifices would have to be made.

  Suzie, knowing I like cooking, begged me to step in. And since Lindsey happens to be a good friend of mine, she agreed to let me into her kitchen. At least I’ll be getting paid for the hours I work alongside Lindsey. She’ll simply add the time I spend to the final bill when she gives it to Suzie. It’ll be the first time I’ve gotten a dime for all the extra work I’ve put into this wedding.

  The potatoes temporarily taken care of, I turn my attention to the large piles of fresh cut-up vegetables that need to be put onto mini-skewers.

  “So, anything new and exciting to report?” A giant cloud of hot steam fills the kitchen as Lindsay drains a large pot of pasta.

  “Nope.” I slide a thin slice of tomato onto the first plastic skewer.

  “Really?” Lindsay shoots a sideways glance at me over her shoulder. “The pictures I saw of you tell a very different story.”

  My head snaps up. “What pictures?”

  “The ones that showed up on my Facebook feed.” Lindsay lifts the strainer out of the sink and pours the bowtie pasta into a large bowl. “They were taken in Giuseppe’s parking lo
t. Kind of grainy and dark, but good enough to see that one Ryan Jakes had his tongue stuck down the throat of some woman. I didn’t see her name anywhere, but the coat the woman was wearing looked very familiar. In fact, it looks just like the one you showed up in this morning.”

  “I saw them too,” Bea, Lindsay’s assistant, chimes in from the meat marinating station.

  Heat floods my face.

  “So, want to tell me how a quiet office manager at a medical facility manages to connect with a hometown hottie like Ryan Jakes?” Lindsay’s hands still and her expression dims. “Oh God. Please tell me he’s not in the throes of some deadly disease and one of Doctor Collins’ patients.”

  “No. He’s not a patient,” I reassure her. I finish the first veggie skewer and start a second one.

  “Thank God.” Lindsay breathes out a sigh and opens the dishwasher door. “Now spill.”

  “He’s doing some promotional work for the hospital.” I stick to the story Ryan and I agreed on yesterday. I fill her in on the program and tell her all about Nathan.

  “Oh, that poor boy.” Lindsay wipes at a tear. “I wonder if he’s in Jackson’s class.” In addition to running the most popular catering service in the county, Lindsay is also a fantastic single mother to an exuberant son, Jackson.

  “I don’t know. He seemed too small, but that could be because he’s sick.”

  Lindsay nods. “So is Ryan still into comic books?”

  My head snaps up and I drop the skewer into the bowl of sliced tomatoes. “You know him?”

  “I wouldn’t say that. More like I knew him,” Lindsay says. “He was…” She wrinkles her nose and thinks for a moment. “Two years ahead of me and one year behind my oldest brother, and we didn’t run in the same circles. He was a quiet kid, seemed nice enough, but didn’t talk much. Had a few close friends. When I was a sophomore, we took psych together. He sat two desks in front of me and was starting to turn really cute, so I spent more time staring at him than I did listening to the teacher.”