by Lisa Dyson
She tried to ignore her body’s reactions, but wasn’t completely successful.
“I like your hair like that,” he said.
“It’s the same as always,” she retorted. “But I’m sure that’s a line you use often.”
His eyebrows shot up. “You think it’s a line? No way.” He reached out to touch a lock of her hair before she could move away. “Redheads are hot.” He wove his fingers through her hair, and even though he wasn’t actually touching her beyond her hair, she had goose bumps rising on her scalp.
“Come on, you know you’re a player. Hair color makes no difference.” She cleared her throat. “You’ve got a different woman on your arm every time I see you.”
He grinned and shrugged. “I can’t help it. I like women. They’re fun to be around.” He abruptly dropped the lock of her hair. “Just like you.”
She laughed. “I am nothing like the women you parade around with. I’m not a ‘buy me dinner and disappear before the sun comes up’ kind of gal.”
“Whoa!” He laughed then, too. “Come on, give a guy a break.” He leaned in. “Just to prove you’re wrong about me, have dinner with me tonight. I promise no funny stuff—unless that’s what you’re into—and I’ll even call you tomorrow and prove I can stay focused on one woman.”
“No way,” she said automatically.
“Why not? Afraid you might be wrong about me?”
“I know I’m not wrong.”
“I keep telling you we’d be great together,” he said.
“And every time you say that, the next time I see you, you have another female on your arm. I don’t want to be one of your flavors of the week.” Then she added, “Besides, I’m already involved with someone.” She mentally scolded herself because those should have been the first words out of her mouth when Pete started flirting.
“Hey, Pete, what’s up?” Nick had come out of the kitchen and stood next to Roxie. “Leave work early?”
“I had a meeting down the street and just came in to say hey.” He gestured to Roxie. “I never made it to the kitchen after seeing this lovely lady.”
“Please.” Roxie felt her stomach turn. Not in a good way. “And you wonder why I think you’re a player.”
Pete scowled, but Nick laughed so hard that the bartending class all turned in their direction. He lowered his voice. “Hey, how’s Bree doing today anyway? I hope she’s recovered from being around all those cats. Must be tough to be allergic like that.”
“Cats?” Roxie tried to remember what Bree had told her about last night. “Right, her cat allergy. Yeah, she’s a sucker for a stray cat. I keep telling her to ignore them, but she insists on getting near them to make sure they’re okay.”
“Stray cats?” He squinted. “I thought she said she visited her friend with a lot of cats. Called her a cat lady.”
“Oh, right!” Roxie nodded, swearing to stay out of this mess from here on out. “She went to her friend’s house. Anyway, she just loves cats, even though she’s highly allergic.”
Nick narrowed his eyes and seemed to be analyzing her answer. Then he said, “Come on into the kitchen, you two, so we don’t disturb the class.”
Pete rose, but Roxie declined. “That’s okay. I have some work to do here. You boys go play.” She looked pointedly at Pete.
“Fine, but just wait one second—so you’ve got a boyfriend? I guess that means dinner’s out?” Pete asked.
“You guessed right,” she said, and tried with all her might to concentrate on her laptop and not his gorgeous butt as he walked away.
* * *
WHILE BREE WAITED for a call from the driver her father was sending, she double-checked her outfit. She’d chosen a teal knit dress with tan suede booties. Dressing appropriately for dinner at her father’s was one of the first lessons drilled into her as a child.
She also checked her purse for crackers—just in case. And she stuck a small bottle of mouthwash into it in case she threw up. She had to be prepared because the last thing she needed was for her father to discover she was pregnant. He would have all sorts of advice to dole out and who knows who he’d leak it to. Next thing, she’d see her picture in print while in the grocery-store checkout line.
Not at all fair to Nick to find out that way.
She still had a few minutes before getting picked up, so she called Nick while she was thinking about him. “Hi, Nick,” she said when he answered. “This is Bree.”
“Hi, Bree.” He sounded surprised to hear from her.
“I wanted to follow up on our conversation last night about you being a consultant. Did you get the contract I couriered over this afternoon?”
“I did.”
“Well?”
“I think it looks good, and I’ll get it signed and back to you in the morning.”
She sighed in relief. “Great! This makes me very happy. I think you’ll do a wonderful job for us and Gabriella.”
“I hope you’re not being too optimistic. I certainly can’t work miracles.”
She placed a hand on her abdomen. “I think you’re wrong about that.” She moved ahead before her emotions got the best of her, something else she’d had to deal with recently. She’d never been one who cried when those sappy commercials came on the TV. Now she constantly needed tissues nearby to sop up her tears. “Also, I was wondering if you’re free for lunch tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes, I’d like us to have lunch at Gabriella’s Latin-fusion restaurant so you can see what’s going on.”
“Sure. Let me see what I can do. Maybe a late lunch so I’m still here for the midday rush at The Fresh Pantry?”
“That would work.” They set a time and she gave him the address. “See you tomorrow.”
About a minute after they disconnected, the driver called to say he was downstairs. She grabbed her purse, looked at her laptop and decided not bring it. She couldn’t get online while they drove, so why bother. She had her phone and she could make the reservation at Gabriella’s on the way to her father’s.
The drive through traffic was slow, but Bree was in no hurry. After making the late lunch reservation and letting Gabriella know by email that they were coming, she leaned her head back on the plush leather seat and closed her eyes.
“Ms. Tucker?”
She jolted awake when the driver called her name. “Yes?”
“We’re here.” He’d parked the car in front of the huge house on the circular driveway and had opened her door for her.
Bree blinked several times. She must have fallen asleep. “Thank you.” She struggled to grab her purse and get out of the car. She straightened her coat and fluffed her hair, knowing she needed to look perfect when she entered the house.
The butler was waiting for her at the front door. He greeted her with a big smile. “Good evening, Ms. Tucker. So good to see you.”
“And you as well, James,” she said, giving him a hug. If not for the staff her father employed, she would have had a childhood devoid of love and affection. “How is your wife?”
“Very well,” he replied. “She sends her best wishes.”
“Aubrey!” Her father interrupted the conversation before she could ask about James’s children, who were a few years older than Bree. “Come in, come in! James, take her coat so she can come meet her new stepmother.”
Normally, she would have allowed him to take her purse to keep with her coat and scarf, but this time she held on to it. Just in case.
Rather than hugging like most fathers, he greeted her with a healthy pat on the back as he guided her past the formal living room, one of the many rooms she’d never been allowed to enter as a child. They continued toward the back of the house to what her father referred to as the den.
“Linda, I’d like to present my daughter
, Aubrey.”
“Bree,” she automatically corrected as she reached out to shake hands with a woman she could have described before seeing her. She was blond, curvaceous and probably late thirties. Actually older than his last wife. “Nice to meet you.”
“Oh, I’m so happy to meet you, too.” She was a bubbly one. “Cal has told me so much about you.”
“Really?” She looked to her father, wondering what he knew about her that he could tell someone.
“Let me get you a drink,” he said. “What would you like? And there are canapés on the coffee table. Help yourself.”
“Water will be fine,” Bree said as she and Linda took seats on the brocade chairs in front of the massive stone fireplace. “So how did you two meet?” That seemed like a safe question.
“Great story,” her father said over his shoulder as he poured her a glass of water from the bar in the corner of the room.
Expecting to hear that he had met her in Vegas, and that she’d been his massage therapist or a bartender or showgirl or something worse, she was nearly blown away when he said, “She’s one of my accountants.”
“Really?” Bree asked. “And it was love at first sight?”
“Oh, no.” Linda laughed, an infectious laugh that made Bree smile. “We butted heads several times and your dad was going to fire me.”
Her dad jumped in. “Until she finally convinced me that her way was the right way.” He walked over to his wife and kissed her temple. “And the rest is history.”
Bree didn’t know what to say. “Well, congratulations on your marriage. I haven’t had time to buy you a present yet—”
“No need,” her dad said. “We’re just glad you’re here tonight.”
His simple statement was an unexpected gift to her, and she blinked away her sudden tears. Damn those hormones.
A short while later, they were called in for dinner. Her father took his normal place at the head of the long table that could easily accommodate sixteen or more. Linda sat on his left with Bree on his right.
The first course was served, and thankfully Bree had no problem eating any of the food.
By the time the entreés came out, she began wondering why her father hadn’t offered her wine. He had a huge cellar with thousands of bottles that he always served at meals. Not that she could drink any, but he didn’t know that.
When one of the kitchen staff appeared with a silver wine cooler with a bottle in it and a towel around it, she began to panic. It had been too good to be true! Maybe she could use the medication excuse she’d used last night with Nick. Satisfied that she could handle the invitation to enjoy the wine, she was startled when she realized the wine was actually nonalcoholic sparkling cider.
“You’re probably wondering why we’re not having wine or champagne to celebrate tonight,” her father said, as if reading her mind. “Well, we have some other news to share.” He poured the liquid into each of their fluted glasses, then looked at Linda and smiled. He seemed truly happy. He turned to Bree with his glass raised. “Tonight we’re celebrating both our marriage and the upcoming birth of our child!”
All Bree could do was stare in stunned silence. Her mouth wouldn’t work and she couldn’t even swallow the lump in her throat. Her father clinked her glass with his and she immediately downed the entire thing in one gulp, wishing it was alcoholic after finding out that both she and her stepmother were having babies at the same time.
* * *
LUNCH SERVICE AT The Fresh Pantry the next day went smoothly, and by the time Nick met Bree at Gabriella’s Latin-fusion restaurant, he was starving.
As soon as he saw Bree sitting at a table in the dark restaurant, he realized he wasn’t just starving for food. He was starving for her, too. Their kiss the other night had lingered in his mind at the oddest times.
“So what do you think?” she asked when he came close enough. Today she was dressed in a black business suit with a pale pink blouse, and all he wanted to do was unbutton it to find out what she wore underneath.
“What do I think?” He realized she was asking about the restaurant and not about what he’d really been thinking. “The place looks nice,” he said as he took a seat at the round booth with its red tufted vinyl bench. “A little dark for my taste, but then Latin-fusion food is spicy and flavorful, so the atmosphere works.”
“I’ve ordered a bunch of different items for us to try so we can get a feel for what they’re serving.” She pointed to the things she’d chosen on the menu.
They stuck to business as they shared portions of food. Stuffed tomatillos, mole chicken on skewers, and chorizo and bean burritos were just some of the selections they tasted.
“I’m not having a problem with the food,” she said. “I think it’s all pretty good. What do you think?”
“I agree. But the portions are large and I’m wondering if she’s charging the right amount.” He explained to Bree about profit and overhead costs and how important it was to keep food costs low to stay in the black.
“I’m stuffed,” she said when they’d finished tasting everything. She sat back in the booth and sighed in pleasure as she closed her eyes. Nick folded his hands on his lap to keep from reaching out and caressing her neck like he was itching to do.
Suddenly, she moaned and pitched forward, clutching her abdomen.
“Are you okay?” he asked in alarm.
She shook her head as if unable to speak.
“Do you need me to take you to the bathroom?” he asked, trying to find a way to help her.
“No,” she whispered as she shook her head, still hunched over as if in pain.
He waited a few minutes, hoping she’d feel better, but she seemed to be in more agony. “Do you need a doctor?”
“I don’t know.” She spoke so softly that he could barely hear her.
“An ambulance? Or can I take you to the hospital?” He wondered if this was related to the other symptoms she’d been having, but he knew that now wasn’t the time to burden her with questions.
She moaned again and doubled over. He couldn’t let this go on. He couldn’t watch her in pain like this. He had to help her.
“I’m calling 911,” he said as he reached for his phone.
She said, “Okay,” and he knew she must be in pretty bad shape to go along with him calling an ambulance.
When his call was answered, he relayed the information and address. While the operator stayed on the line after dispatching an ambulance, he asked Bree, “Do you want to stretch out on the bench while we wait?”
“No. Can’t.”
“They should be here soon.”
She nodded slightly and mumbled words he didn’t understand. “This must be how the...the woman...at the coffee shop felt.”
CHAPTER TEN
BREE RODE IN the ambulance, the entire time suffering the worst cramping she’d ever had and wondering when it would end. She’d been hooked up to an IV by a caring EMT who was both efficient and sympathetic. She promised to keep Bree’s pregnancy confidential and let only the medical staff know.
Meanwhile, Bree wanted to curl into a ball until it all went away.
The ambulance stopped and before she knew it, she was being wheeled into the emergency room and immediately into a curtained area and transferred to the bed there.
Nick peeked his head into her cubicle a few minutes later. “How are you? Any better?” He’d obviously followed the ambulance in his own car.
She was on her side in a fetal position, the most comfortable she could get. “Not really.”
He stepped over to the bed. “Have you seen a doctor yet?”
“No.” She sucked in a breath to talk. “They’re busy.”
“That’s true. The waiting room is packed.” He pulled up a chair. “Can I do anything for you?”
“You’ve...you’ve been so sweet,” she said. “Can you call Roxie to come?” She moaned and curled up tighter when the cramping continued in earnest. She inhaled and exhaled a few times before speaking. “You don’t have to stay.”
“I already called Roxie. She’s on her way. And I’m not going to leave you alone.” He squeezed her hand.
A few minutes later, a young male doctor appeared and introduced himself.
“I’ll give you some privacy,” Nick said before leaving.
“Has there been any bleeding with the cramping?” the doctor asked.
“Not that I know of. It came on very suddenly.”
He asked her to roll onto her back and he did a thorough exam, followed by an ultrasound. “What were you doing when this began?” he asked.
“Having lunch,” she got out, wanting to roll onto her side again. “Am I having a miscarriage?”
“Everything appears fine according to the ultrasound. Cramping isn’t uncommon in the first trimester, although not normally severe enough to require a hospital visit. That’s why I had to make sure you didn’t have an ectopic—a tubal—pregnancy.” He made notes on a clipboard. “I’d like to keep you here until the cramping subsides just to be sure everything’s okay.”
“But why did this happen?”
“It’s one of the mysteries of pregnancy,” he said. “Your body is changing as the baby grows, and between that and the different hormones, your body sometimes balks. Don’t be surprised if this happens again. But if you have severe bleeding with the cramping, then get yourself to your doctor or the hospital quickly.”
“Okay. Thank you.” She realized that the cramping had gotten milder, and she began to relax a little. This pregnancy hadn’t been planned, but she certainly didn’t want to go through the trauma of a miscarriage.
Right after the doctor left, Roxie entered the curtained area. “Are you okay? I was so worried when Nick called.”
“He doesn’t know about the pregnancy, does he?” Bree asked her friend.
“Not that I know of. He just said you were here and that you were in a lot of pain. He mentioned possible appendicitis, so I figured he didn’t have a clue about what was really going on. Did he go home?”