The Baby Arrangement

by Lisa Dyson

  “Peachy,” she said.

  “Okay, then.” He looked at the woman on his arm who, on closer inspection, appeared to be even younger than Roxie had first thought. “Ready to go?”

  The girl bobbed her head, and Pete tipped an imaginary hat to Roxie before he and his date headed in the direction of the nearest parking garage, where he’d probably left his car.

  The three women looked at Nick when he said, “Please, are you sure you can’t get in touch with Bree for me tonight?”

  “She needs to rest,” Hannah told him.

  “But tomorrow’s Saturday. She won’t be in the office, will she?”

  Roxie chuckled. “She will be unless she’s tied down or she’s too sick. She tends to work seven days a week if no one stops her. That’s why we insisted on a working vacation on the island.”

  Nick rubbed his bearded cheek as if considering his options. “Okay. I guess I’ll try her at the office in the morning.” Nick said goodbye and went on his way.

  He sounded resigned, but Roxie didn’t honestly think that would be the end of it.

  * * *

  NICK WALKED TO his car in the parking garage several blocks away. He’d wanted to speak with Bree’s friends about her possible pregnancy, but how did you bring that up?

  Did you just come out with it? Hey, so is Bree pregnant or what? Yeah, that would have gone over well. And what if she wasn’t? He’d have sounded downright stupid. He didn’t even know how much they knew about what had happened between Bree and him.

  He got into his car, wishing he had some way to contact Bree.

  At least now, with Roxie’s proposal to use his bar for teaching, he not only had an extra source of income but he might even run into Bree once in a while.

  * * *

  NO SOONER HAD Bree exited the Uber car, entered her building and pushed the elevator button for the seventh floor, than she began receiving text messages from her girlfriends.

  Make it home okay? came from Roxie.

  Do you need anything? was Amber’s text.

  And then Hannah, Feel better. Call if you need me.

  Bree would have been annoyed at their concern if she didn’t love them so much and know they were merely worried about her.

  Privately, she was becoming a little concerned herself. She’d never fainted before. Ever. She didn’t count what had happened when she got her foot stitched. She hated needles with a passion. She shivered involuntarily.

  But this hadn’t just been a little dizziness. It had been full-out, almost-drop-to-the-floor—if not for Nick—passing out. Followed by throwing up the few morsels she’d been able to eat.

  She must have some kind of bug. There was no other explanation. Maybe something she’d picked up while on their island vacation. Although none of the others had come down with any type of illness.

  Bree sent a group message to her friends saying she was fine and that she was going to bed early. By the time she’d stripped off her dress and heels, slipped on a nightshirt, brushed her teeth and washed her face, she realized it wasn’t even eight o’clock. But her body felt like it was midnight.

  She crawled into bed, glad her stomach had finally settled down. She was positive she’d be awake before the sun came up, so she didn’t set her alarm. Even though tomorrow was Saturday, she wanted to get into the office bright and early to get some work done with few interruptions.

  The next morning, Bree awoke to the sun shining into her bedroom. She sat up, trying to remember what day it was and why she’d been sleeping during the day. Then she remembered going to bed very early last night. She must have been really tired if the sun was up before her.

  She turned her alarm clock toward her. “Eleven o’clock!” She felt her eyes nearly bug out. “This must be a joke.” She grabbed her cell phone from her nightstand and checked the time. Exactly the same. She’d slept for fifteen hours.

  “How could that be?” she said aloud as she got out of bed and headed to the bathroom. She was normally lucky to get six hours a night. That was all she needed to function. She couldn’t even remember sleeping longer than seven hours while in college.

  She showered and dressed in jeans and a sweater since there would be no meetings with clients. She needed to catch up with her never-ending email and review the financial statement she’d been avoiding.

  No matter the weather, she preferred to walk to her office, stopping at the coffee shop on her way. Today was no different although, since she’d returned from vacation, the smell of coffee had gone from soothing to distressing. She ordered her usual yogurt parfait with chai tea instead of the espresso she used to order.

  She was about to walk out of the coffee shop with her combination breakfast and lunch to go when a woman about Bree’s age suddenly doubled over in what appeared to be pain.

  “Are you okay?” Bree asked her, setting her things down on a nearby table so her hands were free. Except for a man at a back table with his nose in his computer, she and the woman and the two employees were the only ones in the coffee shop.

  The woman moaned and looked like she was about to tip over.

  “Here, sit down.” Bree pulled a chair closer. She guided the woman into it. “Can I call someone for you? Do you need an ambulance?”

  The woman slowly raised her head and deliberately breathed in and out. “I’m pregnant,” she said. “I think there’s something wrong.”

  Bree froze. She knew nothing about pregnancy or pregnant women. When she could finally speak, she said, “Do you need me to call someone? A doctor maybe or an ambulance?”

  The woman nodded, tears beginning to fall down her cheeks. “Thank you. I hate to make a fuss.” She sucked in a breath. “I had a miscarriage before my first child and—” The woman doubled over.

  Bree pulled her cell phone out and called 911, explaining the situation. “What’s the address here?” she shouted. One employee called out the exact address and Bree repeated it to the 911 operator.

  The pregnant woman doubled over again and all Bree could do was rub her back, hoping to soothe her through her pain.

  “The ambulance will be here soon,” Bree told the woman quietly. “Just hang in there. You’ll be fine.”

  The woman sobbed openly now. Bree didn’t know what to say or do. Thankfully, she heard a siren coming, though it seemed to be from a long distance away. Making it through the Arlington traffic wouldn’t be easy, but at least it wasn’t a workday.

  By this time, the other employee had come over to see if there was anything she could do. “Why don’t you stand at the door and flag down the paramedics,” Bree suggested. She didn’t want to leave the woman in the young woman’s hands, not that Bree had any experience when it came to pregnant women in pain.

  Another two long minutes went by before Bree finally stepped back as the professionals took over. After the ambulance left with the woman, Bree could have kicked herself. She hadn’t even gotten the woman’s name, and now she’d never know what happened to her and her baby.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE NEXT MORNING, after a terrible night’s sleep, tossing and turning while dreaming of multiple screaming babies, Nick called Bree’s office.

  No answer.

  He pounded his fist on the kitchen counter, hard enough to make his coffee slosh in the cup. What was he going to do? Still considering his options, which seemed few, he decided to take a shower before going to his restaurant.

  While in the shower, he came to the conclusion that he was worrying about nothing. Or, at least, worrying prematurely. If she really was pregnant, he might not even be the father.

  But what if she was pregnant and the baby was his?

  Finally Monday morning arrived, after he’d driven himself crazy all weekend trying to get in touch with Bree. Nick stood at the elevator bank in the mo
dern, ten-story building where Bree’s company maintained its offices. The elevator door opened and he entered, pushing the button for the fourth floor. According to the directory in the first-floor lobby, BeeTee leased the entire floor.

  His plan was to go directly to Bree’s office.

  “I’m here to see Bree Tucker,” Nick told the male receptionist when he reached the correct floor.

  “Do you have an appointment?” the young man in a dress shirt, vest and bow tie asked. He appeared barely old enough to vote, and, frankly, Nick was surprised to find a male working at a female-dominated company. He could only assume it must be equal-opportunity employment coming into play.

  “No, I don’t, but I’m sure she’ll see me.”

  The receptionist narrowed his eyes at Nick, obviously disagreeing with Nick’s statement. Then he made a phone call, all the while keeping his eyes on Nick. “This is Todd at the front desk. Gentleman here to see Ms. Tucker. Says he doesn’t have an appointment.” He looked at Nick. “Your name?”

  “Nick Harmon.”

  Todd repeated the name into the phone. He looked up at Nick, covered the mouthpiece and whispered, “Her assistant is checking with her.” He returned to listening to whatever the person on the other end was saying. “Okay, thanks.” He hung up the phone and looked up at Nick. “I’m sorry, but she won’t see you without an appointment.”

  “If I can just have a minute with her—”

  The receptionist held up a hand to stop him. “I’m sorry, sir. There’s nothing more I can do.”

  “Can I call her?” Nick hadn’t expected to have this much trouble getting through to Bree.

  “I’m sorry, but that’s not possible. I can put you through to her assistant to make an appointment, if you’d like?” He looked to Nick for an answer.

  Nick considered his options. Then he remembered that Roxie had asked about using the bar in his restaurant for training. She was supposed to come in to check it out over the weekend, but he hadn’t seen her. He pulled her card from his wallet. “If I can’t get in to see Bree, then what about Roxie Sinclair?”

  “Sure. I’ll see if she’s available,” the young man said as he dialed.

  “Tell her it’s in regard to the training we spoke about Friday evening.”

  The receptionist repeated Nick’s words into the phone. “Okay, I’ll send him back.” He hung up and then gave Nick directions to Roxie’s office.

  “Hi, Nick,” Roxie greeted him when he reached her office. She held out a hand to shake his. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

  “I know,” he admitted. “And to be honest, I have an ulterior motive. I actually used seeing you as a way to get to Bree. She won’t see me without an appointment.”

  Roxie laughed. “Sounds like her.” She gestured to a straight-backed chair near her industrial-looking desk. “Well, while I have you here, let’s discuss actual business, and then I’ll see if I can get you in to see Bree.”

  That sounded like a good idea, so he agreed. Thirty minutes later, they’d come up with a plan that would benefit both of them. Nick’s restaurant might get the financial boost it needed, though he’d been careful to keep that piece of information to himself.

  “So why do you need to see Bree?” Roxie was definitely a straight shooter.

  So he was mostly honest with his answer. “I wanted to check on her after she was so ill Friday night. Have you seen her? Is she okay?”

  “I haven’t seen her this morning, but I know she came in over the weekend.” She gestured to a mountain of files on her desk and scowled. “She left me a present.”

  Nick smiled. “I hope that means she’s okay.”

  “Me, too,” Roxie agreed. “We’ve been concerned about her health since we came back from vacation. I’m worried that she picked up a virus there. Or even a parasite.” She grimaced.

  His eyes widened. “A virus or parasite, of course.” Internally, Nick sighed with relief. Why hadn’t he thought of that? It was so logical. “Has she seen a doctor?”

  Roxie shook her head. “Not that I know of. She keeps telling us she’s okay.”

  “And then she goes and passes out and throws up,” Nick concluded.

  “Right.” Roxie grinned.

  “What are you doing here?” Bree asked from the doorway.

  Nick spun around to face her and his entire body went boing. Damn, she was beautiful. She wore a sheer, sleeveless white blouse over a matching camisole tucked into black pants that not only hugged her curves but kissed them tenderly. Her strappy black high heels made her legs appear six feet long. His mouth went dry as he began to speak. “Roxie and I were discussing using my restaurant’s bar for training.” His hands itched to touch the soft hair that curled past her shoulders and onto her breasts. “Also, I’ve been trying to contact you to see how you were doing after Friday night, but you’re a difficult person to reach.” All in all, Bree appeared to be fine physically, unlike the last time he’d seen her. “How are you feeling?”

  Bree held her arms out. “As you can see, I’m fine. Thank you for asking.” Her tone wasn’t the least bit friendly. “You own a restaurant?”

  “I do.”

  “He’s a chef in Old Town,” Roxie clarified.

  “What’s the name of your restaurant?” Bree asked.

  “The Fresh Pantry.”

  Her eyes widened with interest. “The Fresh Pantry? I’ve heard good things about it.”

  He smiled. If only good reviews could fix his financial problem. “That’s nice to hear. You should come by sometime.”

  Bree cocked her head slightly to the side. “I might just do that.” She paused, appearing oddly flustered for a few seconds. “So you and Roxie came to an agreement about using your restaurant?”

  Roxie answered. “We did.” She looked at Nick. “I told him I’d have a contract drawn up and messenger it over to the restaurant tomorrow.” Nick nodded his approval.

  “I’m glad you could work it out,” Bree said almost robotically.

  “Me, too.” The two words were all he could manage. Feeling tongue-tied was not normal for him.

  “I’m just going to go check on something,” Roxie said as she left the office, obviously giving Bree and him some privacy.

  They stood staring at each other until Bree blinked and looked around. “Did Roxie leave her own office?”

  Bree’s question stopped him from taking a step closer to her. “Yes, she did.”

  He cleared his throat, needing to utter something coherent. “So let me know when you want to come to the restaurant,” he said as he regained his composure. “I’ll make sure you get the best table.”

  “I guess that’s almost as important as the food,” she quipped.

  He tried not to take offense. “I like to think that eating out is a complete experience. Not simply the food or the atmosphere or the service. The whole package.” Nick wasn’t purposely trying to sell her on his work ethic—he merely spoke the truth.

  “Then I’ll look forward to deciding if you and I see eye to eye when it comes to a great eating-out experience.” She gave him a smile that said, Bring it on.

  He never passed up a challenge, especially when it came from a beautiful woman.

  * * *

  SHORTLY AFTER NICK LEFT, Bree returned to her own office. She was no sooner sitting behind her desk than Roxie appeared in the doorway. “So did he ask you out?”

  “Who?” She pinched her lips shut when they began to twitch, and she didn’t look Roxie in the eye. As if Bree didn’t know exactly who Roxie was talking about.

  Roxie stepped into Bree’s office and closed the door for privacy. “Don’t be coy. What happened after I left?”

  Bree’s face heated from the memory of the few minutes Nick had been there. “Nothing happened.�
� Which wasn’t a lie. But if she hadn’t broken the mood, something could have happened. If she’d wanted it to.

  “I don’t believe that.” Roxie’s green eyes staring at Bree finally penetrated her invisible shield.

  “Okay—”

  “I knew something happened!”

  Bree smiled. “I was telling the truth. Nothing happened, except for him giving me ‘the look.’” Her insides felt funny as she remembered.

  “The look?” Roxie’s eyes grew round. “That’s a big deal.”

  Didn’t Bree know it. She and the girls had come up with a definition of what they called “the look” back in college. It was when a guy got that “I want to kiss you” look and you, in turn, could barely breathe.

  “It was probably just my imagination.” Although Bree didn’t really believe that.

  “I doubt it,” Roxie said. “I mean, we may have discussed business, but it was obvious that he was really here to make sure you were okay.”

  “Okay?”

  “He was worried about you after seeing you so sick Friday night.”

  Bree covered her face with her hands. “How embarrassing.” Although it was nice to know he’d been concerned.

  Roxie laughed. “Hey, at least he was there to catch you before you hit the floor. Now that would have been really embarrassing.”

  Bree nodded. “True.” She needed to change subjects. She didn’t want to get caught up in some fairy tale about her in a relationship with Nick. “So tell me about this agreement you and Nick came up with for bartending classes.”

  “Sure. It’s perfect, actually! He’s more than happy to have us use his bar on Mondays when the restaurant is closed. Even if he has prep going on in the kitchen, we won’t be in the way.”

  “What about an instructor? Did you find one?”

  Roxie nodded vigorously. “I did. She’s been running her own bartending school for several years and she’s agreed to do three two-hour classes for us. One a week beginning next week, as long as the students have already taken her online responsible-bartender class. And she’d prefer no more than five or six in a class. Otherwise, the students don’t get enough practice time.”