by Day Leclaire
“You can leave after a year. Just promise you won’t go far.”
“You’re asking me to stay in San Francisco?”
“I want my son or daughter close by.” His eyes narrowed. “Is that so much to ask?”
Yes! She caught the word at the last possible instant, but he must have read her thoughts. Again. A wealth of bitterness dawned in his gaze, and with a small sigh, she shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be difficult, but you’ve caught me off guard.”
“That makes two of us.”
“I know,” she whispered. “It’s just... You’re making demands—”
“Reasonable demands.”
“No, they’re not! Not to me.” She closed her eyes, fighting for composure, fighting to stem the tears that came with such ease these days. “Dammit, Nick. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“But it did. Whether you like it or not, you’re having my baby.”
From his crouched position beside her, he reached out to cup his child. He paused at the last possible instant, his hands hovering a fraction above the taut curve of her stomach. She glanced at him questioningly, and her breath caught at his expression. For a brief instant his mask of indifference tore open, exposing such bittersweet longing, the tears she’d fought to suppress blurred her vision. In that split second she recognized his deep-seated urge to touch their baby, to feel the life growing within her womb. The next moment a more customary calm iced his features.
He pulled back, about to drop his arms to his side, when she impulsively caught his hands and pressed them tight against her ripe belly. He’d never have asked, never have taken without consent. And yet she knew, knew, that more than anything in this world, he wanted to feel their baby’s life force pulsing beneath his hands. He gritted his teeth, thick, sun-kissed lashes sweeping downward to conceal the fierce blue light gathering in his eyes. Ever so gently he shifted his large hands across the ripe expanse of her pregnancy, the heat of his touch spreading a delicious warmth straight through to her womb.
“The baby tends to be active at this time of the day,” she whispered.
No sooner had she spoken than he captured several hearty kicks within his palm. He gave a startled exclamation. “That’s the baby?”
“Trying to kick her way out,” Dani confirmed. “At least that’s what it feels like some days.”
He lifted his gaze, revealing a savage exhilaration before he swiftly banked his expression to show only mild curiosity. “Does it hurt?” He spoke softly, his face close to hers, his mouth inches from her ear.
She moistened her lips, fighting emotions struggling for rebirth. “Not really. And any discomfort is worth it.” She couldn’t help smiling. “More than worth it.”
“Are you...happy about the baby?”
“I’ve wanted one for a long time now. But Peter—” Nick stilled, and Dani realized that this wasn’t the appropriate time to discuss the flaws in her former marriage. She shrugged awkwardly. “Yes, Nick. I’m very happy about the baby.”
“You’re just not happy I’m the father.”
“I didn’t say that!”
“You didn’t have to. It doesn’t take a genius to add up that particular equation.”
“New Year’s Eve was—”
“An aberration. Yes, so you’ve said.”
His tone worried her, and she tried again. “The situation got out of hand.” An understatement if ever there was one.
“It wasn’t planned, that’s for damned sure.”
“Nor would I have chosen to get pregnant as a result of that night.”
“But you did.” The words hung between them, stark and incontrovertible.
“I want this baby,” she said, repeating the only words that could possibly make a difference.
“You just don’t want me.” Slowly he removed his hands from her belly and rose. “You should have told me months ago. You had no right to keep your pregnancy from me.”
Dani couldn’t argue the point, much as she might want to. She sighed, inclining her head in acknowledgment. “I’m sorry. I guess I knew there would be consequences once you found out.”
“But you weren’t ready to face them.” It wasn’t a question.
“Not when those consequences involve marriage. No.” She’d never willingly trust a man again—not with her heart and not with a commitment as sacred as marriage. Once had been quite enough.
“That’s unfortunate. But it doesn’t change my mind or my demands.” Clearly, he didn’t intend to give an inch. “Let’s finish this, Dani. Do you agree to my terms or not?”
“Do I have any choice?”
“None.”
“I could refuse to marry you.”
“You won’t.”
She forced herself to regard him with as steady and impersonal a gaze as he so often used. “Yes, Nick. I can and I will.”
He took a deep breath, as though bracing himself. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken.”
She hated when he looked like this, when he assumed the tightly focused stance and expression of a tiger moving in for the kill. She especially hated it when he’d focused that look on her. Because it meant she’d become his prey—and was about to lose. “And why am I mistaken?”
“Because all I have to do is pick up the phone. One call to your parents and the game would be over.” Nick cocked his head, a weary smile tilting his mouth. “Checkmate, sweetheart.”
Dani glared at him, disbelief warring with fury. “You’d call them?”
“In a heartbeat,” he confirmed. “They must know by now that you’re pregnant.”
“It would have been a little difficult to keep it from them,” she retorted dryly.
“Do they know I’m the father?”
“No.”
A smile of satisfaction touched his mouth—a mouth she’d taken shameless delight in kissing on that one unforgettable night. “What do you suppose they’d do if I called and told them I was the father of your baby?”
“You mean after they picked themselves up off the floor?”
She failed to win a reaction. It would seem that Ice was once again in control of the situation. “Yes. After that.”
“They’d be angry at you.” She slanted him a quick, assessing glance. “Very angry.”
“Right up until I explained that I didn’t know about your pregnancy.”
She grimaced. “Yeah. Right up until then.”
“And when I told them I wanted to marry you?”
“They’d be thrilled,” she admitted through gritted teeth.
“That’s what I thought.” He gave her a moment to consider her options before asking, “Ready to concede defeat?”
Dani silently stewed. Nick knew her parents far too well. He also knew, or suspected, the sort of grief she’d faced in the past six months, after she’d finally broken down and told them the news. Her relatives were a tight-knit bunch with a strong regard for the family unit. To her relief, they’d been thrilled about the baby. But they’d been terribly upset about her refusal to name—or marry—the father. And though they’d continued to offer their love and support, she knew her actions had hurt and disappointed them.
Still, she made Nick wait a full two minutes before giving in. “Marriage for one year. I’ll continue on a limited basis with SSI. You’ll buy out my share of the business at the end of that time. Agreed?”
“Agreed.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ll pick you up at nine tomorrow morning and we’ll head over to the courthouse. I’ll call and see if Judge Larson’s available to perform the ceremony after we fill out the appropriate forms. With a bit of luck he’ll cut through any red tape and have us married by noon.”
“So quickly?”
“I don’t think we have a lot of time to spare, do you?”
She hated that he was always right. Still, having agreed to marry him, she couldn’t delay the inevitable much longer. Not if the baby was to bear his name. “I don’t think there’ll be time to arrange a ch
urch wedding.”
“Do you mind?”
“Yes. But considering the circumstances...”
Nick inclined his head. “I assume you’ll want your relatives there?”
She smiled wryly. “I don’t think we could keep them away.”
“Then it’s settled.”
Neither of them moved for a long moment. Then Dani rose, awkward in the fullness of her pregnancy but more awkward in the presence of the man soon to be her husband. “I’ll show you out.”
He didn’t refuse, and she walked with him to the front entrance hall. “Take care of her, Gem,” he requested as he opened the door. “And contact me if there’s a problem.”
“REQUEST ACKNOWLEDGED, MR. COLTER. HAVE A PLEASANT EVENING.”
Dani frowned. “Now wait just a darned minute—”
“You’re due any day, sweetheart,” Nick interrupted in such a reasonable tone of voice she almost socked him in the jaw. “I just want to be sure there aren’t any last minute complications. Gem will make certain of it.”
“I don’t like being spied on!”
“Gem isn’t spying. She’s protecting you. That’s her job.”
“That’s her job for now,” Dani muttered.
“It’s her job until I tell her otherwise.”
“Or until I get my hands on those override codes.” Before he had a chance to confuse her with any more logic, she said, “You never told me why you came home early.”
“Let’s just say I had a feeling.”
Dani lifted an eyebrow. “A feeling?” she asked politely. “You, Nick?” If she’d succeeded in annoying him, he didn’t let on. Yeah, like that came as a surprise.
“Despite what you might think, I’m not a computer,” he retorted with a calm she could only envy. “If New Year’s Eve didn’t drive that point home, I’ll make sure I explain the difference—in full detail—sometime in the next year.” And with that he stepped across the threshold.
As usual, he’d managed to get in the last word, which annoyed her no end. Knowing it was childish, she slammed the door in lieu of taxing her brain for an appropriate comeback. Then she thoroughly disgraced herself by sticking out her tongue. Gem chose that moment to have another hiccup in her voice modulator.
“Oh, shut up,” Dani snapped.
“ERROR NUMBER EIGHT-OH-TWO AND FOUR-THIRTEEN. PLEASE FORMULATE REQUEST ACCORDING TO APPROPRIATE GUIDELINES. HAVE A GOOD DAY, MRS. SHERATON,” came the smug response.
“Oh, I’ll have a good day,” Dani muttered as she waddled down the hallway. “Just as soon as I find a sledgehammer and some wire cutters. Then we’ll see who has the last hiccup in whose voice modulator!”
Nick stood on the porch of Dani’s home, his back to the closed door. The symbolism didn’t escape him any more than the irony of his situation. Once more he found himself out in the cold. An image flashed through his mind, an image of a small, stoic boy.
He, too, stood alone, a closed door at his back, an empty parking lot stretching before him. He waited, just as he’d always waited. Behind him rose a factory-like schoolhouse, darkly outlined against a bleak, wintry sky. And as he waited a solitary snowflake drifted before his eyes, trembling within the grip of a chill wind. But he didn’t move, refusing to acknowledge the cold or the rarity of snow in San Francisco or the lateness of the hour. Refused to allow the emotions battering at his soul to escape. Tears were useless, even if he’d still possessed the ability to cry. But he no longer could. They’d frozen long ago.
So instead he’d waited, just as he always waited.
The memory faded, and Nick lowered his head like a crazed bull preparing to charge. He clenched his jaw, and his hands collapsed into fists. Not again. Never again. He’d find a way inside, find the warmth he so desperately craved. No matter how long it took, he’d bask in the heat that was Dani.
“How are you feeling?”
Dani grimaced, shifting on the uncomfortable wooden bench outside the judge’s chambers. Not that it did any good. No matter how often she changed her position or how hard she rubbed the muscles knotted at the base of her spine, she couldn’t find relief. “Do you really want an answer to that question?”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know.”
“Okay, fine. There isn’t an inch of me that isn’t either swollen, sore or malfunctioning in painful and embarrassing ways.”
Nick didn’t laugh, as she half-expected. Nor did he offer useless platitudes. Instead he eased an arm around her and planted his fist in the small of her back. Very gently he applied pressure. “Better?”
She released her breath in a low moan of pleasure. “Where did you learn to do that?”
“Sheer instinct.”
Instinct? Nick? She found that hard to imagine. He’d always been so methodical and disciplined. He definitely didn’t strike her as someone who responded to impulse. No, that was her area of expertise. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you.”
“More surprises?” Amusement tinged his voice. “Don’t tell me we’re going to have twins.”
We! Her hands knotted in her lap as she considered the casually phrased connection. He was doing it again. He kept pushing the bond between them, reminding her that he had as much interest in the tiny life unfurling beneath her heart as did she. It shook her composure more than she cared to admit.
“No, I’m not having twins. At least, the doctor hasn’t mentioned anything.” This was so darned awkward. “It’s about my relatives—”
“They’re coming to the ceremony, right?”
“Yes. It’s just... When I told them about the wedding they got the impression—They thought—” She cleared her throat. “They think we’re getting married because we want to.”
“I do want to.”
“Yes, I know. You want to because of the baby. But they think it’s because of me—because you’re in love with me.” She shot him a quick, nervous glance. “I didn’t have the heart to tell them the truth.”
He absorbed her comment without apparent concern. “How did they take the news?”
“They were thrilled,” she told him honestly.
It surprised her that they’d accepted Nick with the same ease and enthusiasm as they had her impending marriage. Of course, her family had always liked him. She frowned. They’d liked and accepted him far better than they ever had Peter. But then, they knew the truth about her late husband—knew how lacking he’d been in both honor and emotional depth. And though she’d never had cause to question Nick’s honor, he seemed incapable of any great feelings. In that single respect, both her husbands would prove the same.
“Did your parents ask why we’d waited so long?” Nick asked.
“Yes.” The explanation had gotten just a wee bit sticky at that point. “I told them we’d delayed our decision until you returned from Europe because we both felt it was too soon after Peter’s death to make a commitment. We wanted to make certain our feelings for each other wouldn’t change.”
“And they said?”
Her cheeks grew warm. “That if we were certain enough of our feelings to sleep together, we were certain enough to marry.”
“I always did like your parents.” She heard the trace of amusement in the husky tones and shot him a disgruntled frown. Not that he took any notice. “And the baby? Did they wonder why I hadn’t married you as soon as I learned you were pregnant?”
She was afraid he’d ask that. “I told them you didn’t know about the baby until you returned from Europe,” she admitted.
“That was brave of you.”
“It was the truth.” Honesty forced her to concede, “At least that last part was.”
“Which still leaves one intriguing question. Why did you wait to tell me about the baby?”
She shrugged. “You were supposed to return in three months, remember? I thought it would be better to break the news to you in person.”
“Liar. That might be what you’ve managed to tell yourself
all this time, but you didn’t contact me for one simple reason. You were afraid.”
She set her chin. He could put her to the rack and she still wouldn’t admit the truth of that uncomfortable, albeit accurate, observation. She didn’t dare look at him, instead fixing her gaze on the opposite wall. “I wanted to tell you in person, and I’m sticking with that story no matter what. It wasn’t my fault you extended your trip to six months. Or nine. Good grief, Nick, the last time we spoke you mentioned that you might stay over there a full year.”
“I’d have come back earlier if you’d told me. Hell, I’d have been on the next plane without your telling me. All you had to say was, ‘Come home.’”
Home? She shied from the word. “Well, it wasn’t necessary, was it? You came back early, anyway.” Her back seized up again, and she grimaced, shifting on the bench. Not that it did any good. Comfort was an experience she could only vaguely recall. “I couldn’t believe it when I opened the door and found you standing there.”
“I was a trifle taken aback, myself,” he retorted dryly.
“You sure concealed it well.”
“Years of practice.”
That caught her attention, and this time she did look at him. “Really? You’ve practiced hiding your emotions?” Curiosity stirred. “Why?”
“It seemed like a logical choice at the time.”
His idle tone didn’t fool her. To her surprise, she was slowly learning to peek behind that nonchalant mask of his. It intrigued her, the mask he wore, practically begging that she uncover what he took such care to conceal. “Something must have happened to prompt that sort of choice. What was it?”
“I realized the utter futility of emotional turmoil on one snowy December evening.”
“An epiphany, Nick? You?” She tilted her head. “And as a result you decided to follow in Mr. Spock’s footsteps? Adopt the Vulcan philosophy of logic without emotion?”
He regarded her coolly. “Let’s just say I’ve never been offered an argument convincing enough to change my mind.”
“Something terrible must have happened for you to make such a radical decision.” Her brows drew together, and a hint of distress edged her voice. “What was it? Did someone hurt you?”