The Secretary's Secret
Michelle Celmer
Sleeping with Nick Bateman wasn't the smartest thing Zoë had ever done. He was her boss! And since they had crossed the line, she had to make some rules and stick to them. One night was all they would ever have. His assistant's passion had astounded him, and now Nick knew one night with Zoë would never be enough.Yet, with his track record, he couldn't chance ruining the only relationship that meant anything to him. Then his secretary revealed a little secret….
The Secretary’s Secret
Michelle Celmer
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
This book is in honor of the dedicated volunteers at Regap of Michigan (Retired Greyhounds as Pets), www.rescuedgreyhound.org.
It has been a pleasure and a privilege to be a part of something so special
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Epilogue
Coming Next Month
One
Nick Bateman lay in bed in the honeymoon suite of the hotel, pretending to be asleep, wondering what the hell he’d just done.
Instead of spending his wedding night with the woman who was supposed to be his new wife—the one he’d left at the altar halfway through their vows—he’d slept with Zoë, his office manager.
He would have liked to blame the champagne for what had happened, but two shared bottles wasn’t exactly enough to get him rip roaring drunk. He’d been too intoxicated to drive, no question, but sober enough to know it was a really bad idea to sleep with an employee.
And even worse, he considered Zoë one of his best friends.
He rubbed a hand across the opposite side of the mattress and could feel lingering traces of heat. The scent of sex and pheromones and her spicy perfume clung to his skin and the sheets.
He heard a thump and a softly muttered curse from somewhere across the room. She had been slinking through the darkness for several minutes now, probably looking for her clothes.
His only excuse for what he’d let happen, even if it was a lame one, was that on the night of his failed wedding he’d been discouraged and depressed and obviously not thinking straight.
Instead of saying I do, he’d said I don’t and skipped out on his fiancée. His second, in fact. Could he help it if it had only occurred to him just then the terrible mistake he was making? That his desire for a wife and family was clouding his judgment? That after a month of courtship he barely knew the woman standing beside him, and she was in fact—as his friends had tried to warn him—only after his money.
What a nightmare.
He would never forget the look of stunned indignation on Lynn’s face when, halfway through their vows, he had turned to her and said, “I’m sorry, I can’t do this.” He could still feel the sting of her fist where it had connected solidly with his jaw.
He’d deserved it. Despite being a lying, bloodsucking vampire, she didn’t deserve to be humiliated that way. Why was it that he couldn’t seem to find the right woman? It had been five years since he decided he was ready to settle down. He’d figured by now he would be happily married with at least one baby and another on the way.
Nothing in his life was going the way it was supposed to. The way he’d planned.
After the abrupt end of the service, Zoë had driven him to the hotel where the honeymoon suite awaited and the champagne was already chilling. He’d been in no mood to drink alone, so he’d invited her in. She’d ordered room service—even though he hadn’t been particularly hungry—and made him an ice pack for his jaw.
She always took care of him. And damn, had she taken care of him last night.
He wasn’t even sure how it started. One minute they were sitting there talking, then she gave him this look, and the next thing he knew his tongue was in her mouth and they were tearing each other’s clothes off.
Her mouth had been so hot and sweet, her body soft and warm and responsive. And the sex? It had been freaking fantastic. He’d never been with a woman quite so…vocal in bed. He’d never once had to guess what she wanted because she wasn’t shy about asking.
God, he’d really slept with Zoë.
It’s not that he’d never looked at her in a sexual way. He’d always been attracted to her. She wasn’t the kind of woman who hypnotized a man with her dazzling good looks—not that she wasn’t pretty—but Zoë’s beauty was subtle. It came from the inside, from her quirky personality and strength.
But there were some lines you just didn’t cross. The quickest way for a man to ruin a friendship with a woman was to have sex with her.
He knew this from experience.
Thankfully, he hadn’t done irrevocable damage. As much as he wanted a family, Zoë wanted to stay single and childless just as badly. Unlike other female employees he’d made the mistake of sleeping with—back when he was still young, arrogant and monumentally stupid—she wouldn’t expect or want a commitment.
Which was a good thing, right?
There was another thump, and what sounded like a gasp of pain, right beside the bed this time. He had two choices, he could continue to pretend he was asleep and let her stumble around in the dark, or he could face what they had done.
He reached over and switched on the lamp, squinting against the sudden bright light, both surprised and pleased to find a completely bare, shapely rear end not twelve inches from his face.
Zoë Simmons let out a shriek and swung around, blinking against the harsh light, clutching her crumpled dress to her bare breasts. This was like the dream she frequently had where she was walking through the grocery store naked. Only this was worse, because she was awake.
And honestly, right now, she would rather be caught naked in a room full of strangers than with Nick.
“You scared me,” she admonished. So much for sneaking out before he woke up. Call her a chicken, but she hadn’t been ready to face what they’d done. How many times they had done it.
How many different positions they had done it in…
The bed was in shambles and there were discarded condom wrappers on the bedside table and floor. She winced when she thought of the way they’d touched each other, the places they had touched. How incredibly, shockingly, mind-meltingly fantastic it had been.
And how it could never, ever happen again.
“Going somewhere?” he asked.
“’Fraid so.”
He looked over at the digital clock beside the bed. “It’s the middle of the night.”
Exactly.
“I thought it would be best if I leave.” But God help her, he wasn’t making it easy. He sat there naked from the waist up, looking like a Greek god, a picture of bulging muscle and golden skin, and all she wanted to do was climb back into bed with him.
No. Bad Zoë.
This had to end, and it had to end now.
She edged toward the bathroom, snagging her purse from the floor. “I’m going to go get dressed, then we’ll…talk.”
She backed into the bathroom, his eyes never leaving her face. She shut and locked the door, then switched on the light, saw her reflection and let out a sound that ranked somewhere between a horrified gasp and a gurgle of surprise.
Just when she thought this night couldn’t get any worse.
Her hair was smashed flat on one side of her head and sticking up on the other, last night’s eyeliner was smeared under her red, puffy eyes, and she had pillow indentations all over her left cheek. Unlike Nick who woke up looking like a Playgirl centerfold. It’s a miracle he hadn’t run screaming from the room when he saw her.
Had there been a window in the bathroom, she would have climbed through it.
She splashed water on her face, used a tissue to wipe away the smudges under her eyes, then dug through her purse for a hair band. Finger combing her hair with damp hands, she pulled it taut and fastened it into a ponytail. She had no clue where her bra and panties had disappeared to, and there was no way in hell she was going to go hunting for them. She would just have to go commando until she got home.
She tugged on her battered dress, smoothing out the wrinkles as best she could. In his haste to undress her, Nick had torn one of the spaghetti straps loose. One side of the bodice hung dangerously low. The form-fitting silk skirt was still a little damp and stained from the glass of champagne she’d spilled on herself.
It was the dress she’d worn to both of Nick’s weddings. It looked as if maybe it was time to retire it.
Or incinerate it.
Zoë studied her reflection, hiking the bodice up over her half exposed breast. Not great, but passable. Maybe everyone wouldn’t look at her and automatically think, tramp, as she traipsed through the five-star hotel lobby. Not that she would run into too many people at three-thirty in the morning.
She heard movement from the other room, and fearing she would catch him as naked and exposed as he had caught her—she cringed at the thought of her big rear end in his face when he turned the light on—she called, “I’m coming out now!”
When he didn’t respond, she unlocked the door and edged it open, peeking out. He sat on the bed wearing only the slacks from last night, his chest bare.
And boy what a chest it was. It’s not as if she’d never seen it before. But after touching it…and oh my, was that a bite mark on his left shoulder? She also seemed to recall giving him a hickey somewhere south of his belt, not to mention the other things she’d done with her mouth…
Shame seared her inside and out. What had they done?
As she stepped toward him, she noticed the gaping hole in the front of his pants. She was about to point out that the barn door was open, then remembered that in her haste to get his slacks off last night, she’d broken the zipper. They’d torn at each other’s clothes, unable to get naked fast enough, as if they’d been working up to that moment for ten long years and couldn’t bear to wait a second longer. She would never forget the way he’d plunged inside her, hard and fast and deep. The way she’d wrapped her legs around his hips and ground herself against him, how she’d moaned and begged for more…
Oh God, what had they done?
She clutched her purse to her chest, searching the floor for her shoes. She needed to get out of there pronto, before she did something even stupider, like whip her dress off and jump him.
“I think these belong to you.” Nick was holding up her black lace bra and matching thong. “I found them under the covers.”
Swell.
“Thanks.” She snatched them from him and stuffed both in her tiny purse.
“Should we talk about this?” he asked.
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather leave and pretend it never happened.”
He raked a hand through his short blue-black hair. Thick dark stubble shadowed his jaw, which explained the chafing on her inner thighs.
“That is one way to handle it,” he said, sounding almost disappointed.
He had to know as well as she did that this was a fluke. It never should have happened. And it sure as hell would never, ever happen again.
Not that he was a bad guy. Nick was rich, gorgeous and genuinely nice—and okay, a touch stubborn and overbearing at times. And there were occasional moments when she wanted to smack him upside the head. But he was sweet when he wanted to be and generous to a fault.
How he hadn’t found the right woman yet, she would never understand. Maybe he was just trying too hard. Either that or he had really bad luck. When it came to finding the wrong woman, he was like a magnet.
Personally, she liked her life just the way it was. No commitments. No accountability to anyone but herself and Dexter, her cat. She’d already done the mommy-caregiver gig back home. While both her parents worked full time jobs she’d been responsible for her eight younger brothers and sisters. All Nick had talked about during the past five years was marrying Susie homemaker and having a brood of children. The closest she was going to get to a diaper was in the grocery store, and that was only because it was across the aisle from the cat food.
The day Zoë turned eighteen she’d run like hell, clear across Michigan, from Petoskey to Detroit. And if it hadn’t been for Nick, she wouldn’t have lasted a month on her own. Despite having just started his construction company, or maybe because of it, he hadn’t fired her when he found out she’d lied on her application about having office experience.
The truth was, she couldn’t even type and her phone skills were questionable. Instead of kicking her out the door, which she admittedly deserved, his alpha male gene had gone into overdrive and he’d set out to save her. He’d helped put her through college, trained her in the business—in life. She’d been more than a tad sheltered and naïve.
To this day Zoë didn’t know why he’d been so good to her, why he’d taken her under his wing. When they met, something just clicked.
And, in turn, Zoë had been Nick’s only family. The only person he could depend on. He never seemed to expect or want more than that.
No way she would throw it all away on one stupid lapse in judgment, because the truth of the matter was, in a relationship, they wouldn’t last. They were too different.
They would kill each other the first week.
“We’ve obviously made a big mistake,” she said. She spotted her brand new Jimmy Choo pumps peeking out from under the bed. She used her big toe to drag them out and shoved her feet in. “We’ve known each other a long time. I’d hate to see our friendship, our working relationship, screwed up because of this.”
“That would suck,” he agreed. He sure was taking this well. Not that she’d expected him to be upset. But he didn’t have to be so…agreeable. He could at least pretend he was sorry it wouldn’t happen again.
She hooked a thumb over her shoulder. “I’m going to go now.”
He pulled himself to his feet. She was wearing three-inch heels and he was still a head taller. “I’ll drive you home.”
She held up a hand to stop him. “No, no. That’s not necessary. I’ll call a cab.”
He looked down at the clock. “It’s after three.”
All the more reason not to let him drive her home. In the middle of the night she felt less…accountable. What if, when they got there, she invited him in? She didn’t want him getting the wrong idea, and she wasn’t sure if she could trust herself.
Astonishing what a night of incredible sex could do to cloud a girl’s judgment. “I’d really rather you didn’t. I’ll be fine, honest.”
“Then take my truck,” he said, taking her hand and pressing his keys into it. “I’ll catch a cab in the morning.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
He gestured toward the bedroom door and followed her into the dark sitting room. When they got to the door she turned to face him. The light from the bedroom illuminated the right side of his face. The side with the dimple.
But he wasn’t smiling. He looked almost sad.
Well, duh, he’d just split up with his fiancée. Of course he was sad.
“I’m really sorry about what happened with Lynn. You’ll meet someone else, I promise.” Someone unlike fiancée number one, who informed him on their wedding day that she’d decided to put off having kids for ten years so she could focus on her career. Or fiancée number two who’d been a real prize. Lynn had obviously been after Nick’s money, but he’d been so desperate to satisfy his driving need to procreate, he’d been blind to what he was getting himself into. Thank goodness he’d come to his senses, let himself see her for what she was.
“I know I will,” he said.
“This probably goes without saying, but it would be best if we kept what happened to ourselves. Things could get weird around the office if anyone found out.”
“Okay,” he agreed. “Not a word.”
Huh. That was easy.
Almost too easy.
“Well, I should go.” She hooked her purse over her shoulder and reached for the doorknob. “I guess I’ll see you at work Monday.”
He leaned forward and propped a hand above her head on the door, so she couldn’t pull it open. “Since this isn’t going to happen again, how about one last kiss?”
Oh no, bad idea. Nick’s kiss is what had gotten them into this mess in the first place. The man could work miracles with his mouth. Had he been a lousy kisser, she never would have slept with him. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
He was giving her that look again, that heavy-lidded hungry look he’d had just before they had attacked each other the first time. And suddenly he seemed to be standing a lot closer. And he smelled so good, looked so good in the pale light that her head felt a little swimmy.
“Come on,” he coaxed, “one little kiss.”
Like a magnet she felt drawn to him. She could feel herself leaning forward even as she told him, “That would be a bad idea.”
“Probably,” he agreed, easing in to meet her halfway. He caressed her cheek with the tips of his fingers, combed them gently through her hair. The hair band pulled loose and a riot of blond curls sprang free, hanging in damp ringlets around her face.
“Nick, don’t,” she said. But she didn’t do anything to stop him. “We agreed this wouldn’t happen again.”
“Did we?” His hand slipped down to her shoulder. She felt a tug, and heard the snap of her other spaghetti strap being torn. Her dress was now officially strapless. And in another second it would be lying on the floor.
Oh God, here we go again.
Nick pushed the strap of her purse off the opposite shoulder and it landed with a soft thump on the floor at their feet and his truck keys landed beside it. “We’re already here, the damage has been done. Is one more time really going to make that much of a difference?”
It was hard to argue with logic like that, especially when he was nibbling her ear. And he was right. The damage had already been done.
What difference could one more time possibly make?
“Just a quick one,” she said, reaching for the fastener on his slacks. She tugged it free and shoved them down his hips. “As long as we agree that what goes on in this room stays in this room.”
His lips brushed her shoulder and her knees went weak. “Agreed.”
Then he kissed her and she melted.
One more time, she promised herself as he bunched the skirt of her dress up around her waist and lifted her off the floor.
“One more time,” she murmured as she locked her legs around his hips and he pinned her body to the wall, entered her with one deep, penetrating thrust.
One more time and they would forget this ever happened…
Two
What difference could one more time possibly make? Apparently, more than either she or Nick had anticipated.
Zoë glanced up at the clock above her desk, then down to the bottom drawer of the file cabinet where she’d stashed the bag from the pharmacy behind the employment records. The bag that had been sitting there for four days now because she conveniently kept forgetting to bring it home every night after work. Mostly because she’d been trying to convince herself that she was probably overreacting. She was most likely suffering some funky virus that would clear up on its own. A virus that just happened to zap all of her energy, made her queasy every morning when she rolled out of bed and made her breasts swollen and sore.
And, oh yeah, made her period late.
She was sure there had to be a virus like that, because there was no chance in hell this condition was actually something that would require 2 a.m. feedings and diapers.
She would have a much easier time explaining this away if she wasn’t ninety-nine percent sure Nick hadn’t been wearing a condom that last time up against the hotel room wall.
It’s not as if she could come right out and ask him. Not without him freaking out and things getting really complicated. It had taken several weeks to get past the post-coital weirdness. At first, it had been hard to look him in the eye, knowing he’d seen her naked, had touched her intimately.
Every time she looked at his hands, she remembered the way they felt against her skin. Rough and calloused, but oh so tender. And so big they seemed to swallow up every part of her that he touched.
His slim hips reminded her of the way she’d locked her legs around him as he’d pinned her to the wall. The way he’d entered her, swift and deep. How she’d come apart in his arms.
And his mouth. That wonderfully sinful mouth that melted her like butter in a hot skillet…
No. No. No.
Bad Zoë.
She shook away the lingering memory of his lean, muscular body, of his weight sinking her into the mattress, her body shuddering with pleasure. She’d promised herself at least a hundred times a day that she wasn’t going to think about that anymore. Finally things seemed to be getting back to normal. She and Nick could have a conversation without that undertone of awkwardness.
Zoë didn’t want to risk rocking the boat.
She hadn’t even told her sister Faith, and they told each other almost everything. Although, after their last phone conversation Zoë was under the distinct impression Faith knew something was up. It wouldn’t be unlike her sister to drop everything and show up unannounced if she thought there was something that Zoë wasn’t telling her.
She took a deep, fortifying breath. She was being ridiculous. She should just take the damned test and get it over with. She’d spent the ten bucks, after all. She might as well get her money’s worth. Waiting yet another week wouldn’t change the final outcome. Either she was or she wasn’t. It would be good to know now, so she could decide what to do.
And decide what she would tell Nick.
As she was reaching for the bottom drawer handle, Shannon from accounting appeared in the doorway and Zoë breathed a sigh of relief.
“Hey, hon, you up for lunch with the girls? We’re heading over to Shooters.”
Despite being a nervous wreck, she was starving. Though she normally ate a salad for lunch, she would sell her soul for a burger and fries and a gigantic milkshake. And for dessert, a double chocolate sundae. Hold the pickles.
“Lunch sounds wonderful.”
She grabbed her purse and jacket and gave the file cabinet one last glance before she followed Shannon into the hall.
As soon as she got back from lunch, she promised herself. She would put the test in her purse so she wouldn’t forget it, and tonight when she got home she would get to the bottom of this.
Nick walked down the hall to Zoë’s office and popped his head inside, finding it empty and feeling a screwy mix of relief and disappointment. He’d come to her office now, knowing she would probably be on her lunch break. Though they’d promised to pretend it hadn’t happened, he couldn’t seem to make himself forget every erotic detail of their night together. He’d been doing his best to pretend nothing had changed, but something was still a little…off.
Something about Zoë—a thing he couldn’t quite put his finger on—seemed different.
He couldn’t stop himself from wondering, what if? What if he’d told her he didn’t want to pretend like it hadn’t happened?
He just wasn’t sure if that’s what he really wanted. Were he and Zoë too different for that kind of relationship?
She was a cat person and he had a dog. He was faded Levi’s and worn leather and she was so prim and…girly. His music preferences ranged from classic rock to rich, earthy blues with a little jazz piano thrown in for flavor. Zoë seemed to sway toward eighties pop and any female singer, and she had the annoying habit of blaring Christmas music in July.
He was a meat and potatoes man, and as far as he could tell, Zoë existed on salads and bottled mineral water. He watched reality television and ESPN and she preferred crime dramas and chick flicks.
In fact, he couldn’t think of a single thing they had in common. Besides the sex, which frankly they did pretty damned well.
Even if they could get past all of their differences, there was the problem of them wanting completely different things from life. In all the years he’d known her, she’d never once expressed a desire to have children. Not that he could blame her given her family history. But he’d grown up an only child raised by an aunt and uncle who’d had no use for the eight-year-old bastard dumped in their care. He’d spent his childhood in boarding schools and camps.
He wanted a family—at least three kids, maybe more. He just had to find a woman who wanted that, too. One who wasn’t more interested in climbing the corporate ladder than having a family. And definitely one who wouldn’t insist on a two week European honeymoon followed by mansion hunting in one of Detroit’s most exclusive communities.
Material things didn’t mean much to him. He was content with his modest condo and modest vehicle. His modest life. All the money in the world didn’t buy happiness. Thousands of dollars in gifts from his aunt and uncle had never made up for a lack of love and affection. His children would always know they were loved. They would never be made to feel like an inconvenience. And he sure as hell would never abandon them.
It had taken him years to realize there wasn’t anything wrong with him. That he didn’t drive people away. With a long history of mental illness, his mother could barely take care of herself much less a child, and his aunt and uncle simply had no interest in being parents. It would have been easy for them to hand him back over to social services when his mom lost custody. At least they’d taken responsibility for him.
If not for the lack of affection, one might even say he’d been spoiled as a kid. If he wanted or needed something all it took was a phone call to his uncle and it was his.
A convertible sports car the day he got his driver’s license? No problem.
An all-expenses-paid trip to Cancún for graduation? It’s yours.
The best education money can buy at a first-rate East Coast school? Absolutely.
But no one had handed him his education. He’d worked his tail off to make the dean’s list every semester, to graduate at the top of his class. To make his aunt and uncle proud, even if they didn’t know how to show it. And when he’d asked his uncle to loan him the money to start his company, the entire astronomical sum had been wired to his account within twenty-four hours.
They wouldn’t win any awards for parents of the year, but his aunt and uncle had done the best they could.
He would do better.
There had to be a Ms. Right out there just waiting for him to sweep her off her feet. A woman who wanted the same things he did. And hopefully he would find her before he was too old to play ball with his son, to teach his daughter to Rollerblade.
He stepped into Zoë’s office, trying to remember where in the file cabinet she kept the personnel files. Seeing as how she wasn’t exactly organized, they could be pretty much anywhere.
Despite the disarray, she somehow managed to keep the office running like a finely tuned watch. She’d become indispensable. He would be lost without her.
He started at the top and worked his way down, finding them, of course, in the bottom drawer. He located the file of a new employee, Mark O’Connell, to see if there was some reason why the guy would be missing so much work. Not to mention showing up late. Nick was particular when he hired new employees. He didn’t understand how someone with such impeccable references could be so unpredictable on the job.
He grabbed the file and was about to shut the drawer when he saw the edge of a brown paper bag poking up from the back.
Huh. What could that be? He didn’t remember seeing that the last time he looked in here.
He grabbed the bag and pulled it out. He was about to peek inside, when behind him he heard a gasp.
“What are you doing?”
Nick turned, the pharmacy bag in his hand, and Zoë stood in the office doorway, back from lunch, frozen. If he opened that bag, things were going to get really complicated really fast.
“I found this in the file cabinet,” he said.
When she finally found her voice, she did her best to keep it calm and rational. Freaking out would only make things worse. “I don’t appreciate you going through my things.”
He gave her an annoyed look. “How was I supposed to know it’s yours? It was in the file cabinet with the personnel files. The files I need to have access to, to run my company.”
He was right. She should have kept it in her car, or her purse. Of course, then what excuse would she have had for not using it? She walked toward him and held out a hand. “You’re right, I apologize. Can I have it back please?”
He looked at her, then at the bag. “What is it?”
“Something personal.”
She took another step toward him, hand outstretched, and he took a step back.
A devious grin curled his lips, showing off the dent in his right cheek. “How much is it worth to you?”
He hadn’t teased her in weeks. Now was not the time to start acting like his pain-in-the-behind old self. “That isn’t funny, Nick. Give it to me.”
He held the bag behind his back. “Make me.”
How could a grown man act so damned juvenile? He didn’t have kids, so what, he’d act like one?
She stepped toward him, her temper flaring, and held out her hand. “Please.”
He sidestepped out of her way, around her desk, thoroughly enjoying himself if his goofy grin was any indication.
She felt like punching him.
Couldn’t he see that she was fuming mad? Didn’t he care that he was upsetting her?
Heat climbed up her throat and into her cheeks. “You’re acting like an ass, Nick. Give it back to me now.”
The angrier she became, the more amused he looked. “Must be something pretty important to get your panties in such a twist,” he teased, clasping the bag with two fingers and swinging it just out of her reach. Why did he have to be so darned tall? “If you want it so badly, come and get it.”
She slung her hands up in defeat. “Fine, look if you have to. If you find tampons so thoroughly interesting.”
Tampons. Didn’t she wish.
He raised a brow at her, as if he wasn’t sure he should believe her or not. As he lowered the bag, uncurling the edge to take a peek, she lunged for him. Her fingers skimmed the bag and he jerked his arm back, inadvertently flinging the test box out. In slow motion it spiraled across the room, hit the wall with a smack and landed label side up on the carpet.
Uh-oh.
For several long seconds time seemed to stand still, then it surged forward with a force that nearly gave her whiplash.
Nick looked at the box, then at her, then back at the box and all the amusement evaporated from his face. “What the hell is this?”
She closed her eyes. Damn, damn, damn.
“Zoë?”
She opened her eyes and glared at him. “What, you can’t read?”
She grabbed the bag from his slack fingers then marched over and snatched the box from the floor.
“Zoë, do you think you’re—”
“Of course not!” More like, God, she hoped not.
“Are you late?”
She gave him a duh look.
“Of course you are, or you wouldn’t need the test.” He raked a hand through his hair. “How late are you exactly?”
“I’m just a little late. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“We slept together over a month ago. How late is a little late?”
She shrugged. “Two weeks, maybe three.”
“Which is it, two or three?”
Oh, hell. She slumped into her desk chair. “Probably closer to three.”
He took a long deep breath and blew it out. She could tell he was fighting to stay calm. “And why am I just hearing about this now?”
“I thought maybe it was a virus or an infection or something,” she said, and he gave her an incredulous look. “I was in denial, okay?”
“Missed periods can happen for lots of reasons, right? Like stress?”
She flicked her thumbnail nervously back and forth, fraying the edge of the box. Stressed? Who me? “Sure, I guess.”
“Besides, we used protection.”
“Did we?”
He shot back an indignant, “You know we did.”
She felt a glimmer of hope. Condoms could fail, but the odds were slim. Maybe she really wasn’t pregnant. Maybe this was all in her head. “Even the last time?”
There was a pause, then he asked, “The last time?”
Suddenly he didn’t sound so confident. Suddenly he had an, Oh-damn-what-have-I-done? look on his face.
Her stomach began to slither down from her abdomen. “You know, against the wall, by the door. We used a condom then too, right?” she asked hopefully, as if wishing it were true would actually make it true.
He scratched the coarse stubble on his chin. The guy could shave ten times a day but he was so dark he almost always had a five o’clock shadow. “Honestly, I can’t remember.”
Oh, this was not good. She could feel her control slipping, panic squeezing the air from her lungs. “You can’t remember?”
He sat on the corner of her desk. “Apparently, you can’t either.”
He was right. That wasn’t fair. This was in no way his fault. “I’m sorry. I’m just…edgy.”
“If I had to guess, I would say that since I have no memory of using one, and my wallet was in the other room, we probably didn’t.”
At least he was being honest. Obviously they had both been too swept away by passion to think about contraceptives. But that had been what, their fourth time? Didn’t a man’s body take a certain amount of time to…reinforce the troops. Were there even any little swimmers left by then?
Leave it to her to have unprotected sex with a guy who had super sperm.
“I guess there’s only one way to find out for sure,” he said. “Taking the test here would probably be a bad idea, seeing as how anyone could walk into the bathroom. So would you be more comfortable taking it at your place or mine?”
This was really happening. With Nick of all people.
When she didn’t answer right away he asked, “Or is this something you need to be alone for?”
Being alone was the last thing she wanted. They were in this together. She didn’t doubt for an instant that he would be there for her, whatever the outcome. “We’ll do it at my house.”
He rose to his feet. “Okay, let’s go.”
Her eyes went wide. “You want to go now? It’s the middle of the workday.”
“It’s not like we’re going to get fired. I own the company. Besides, you know what they say.”
She thought about it for a second then said, “Curiosity killed the cat?”
He grinned. “There’s no time like the present.”
Three
Nick drove them the ten minutes to Zoë’s house in Birmingham. They didn’t say much. What could they say? Zoë spent the majority of her time praying, Please, God, let it be negative.
How had she gotten herself into this mess?
Her devout Catholic parents still believed that at the age of twenty-eight she was as pure as the driven snow. If the test was positive, what would she tell them? Well, Mom and Dad, I was snow-white, but I drifted.
They were going to kill her. Or disown her.
Or both.
And this would surely be enough to send her fragile, ailing grandmother hurtling through death’s door. She would instantly be labeled the family black sheep.
It didn’t matter that her parents had been nagging her to settle down for years.
When are you going to find a nice man? When are you going to have babies?
How about never?
And if the man she settled down with was Nick they would be ecstatic. Despite the fact that he wasn’t Catholic, they adored him. Since the first time she’d brought him home for Thanksgiving dinner they’d adopted him into the fold. And Nick had been swept up into the total chaos and craziness that was her family. He loved it almost as much as it drove her nuts.
So, if she were to call home and tell them she and Nick were getting hitched, she’d be daughter of the year. But the premarital sex thing would still be a major issue. In her parents’ eyes, what they had done was a sin.
She let her head fall back against the seat and closed her eyes. Maybe this was just a bad dream. Maybe all she needed to do was pinch herself real hard and she would wake up.
She caught a hunk of skin between her thumb and forefinger, the fleshy part under her upper arm that the self-defense people claim is the most sensitive, and gave it a good hard squeeze.
“Ow!”
“What’s wrong?”
She opened her eyes and looked around. Still in Nick’s monster truck, rumbling down the street, and he was shooting her a concerned look.
She sighed. So much for her dream theory.
“Nothing. I’m just swell,” she said, turning to look out the window, barely seeing the houses of her street whizzing past.
“Don’t get upset until we know for sure,” he said, but she was pretty sure he, like her, already knew what the result would be. They’d had unprotected sex and her period was late. The test was going to be positive.
She was going to have Nick’s baby.
When they got to her house, he took her keys from her and opened the door. He’d been inside her house a thousand times, but today it felt so…surreal. As if she’d stepped onto the set of film.
A horror film.
She and Nick were the stars, and any second some lunatic was going to pop out of the kitchen wielding a knife and hack them to pieces.
She slipped her jacket off and tossed it over the back of the couch while Nick took in her cluttered living room.
Last night’s dinner dishes still sat on the coffee table, the plate covered with little kitty lick marks from Dexter her cat. Newspapers from the past two weeks lay in a messy pile at one end of the couch.
She looked down at the rug, at the tufts of white cat fur poking out from the Berber and realized it had been too long since she’d last vacuumed. Her entire house—entire life—was more than a little chaotic right now. As if acting irresponsibly would somehow prove what a lousy parent she would be.
Nick looked around and made a face. “You really need to hire a maid.”
She tossed her purse down on the cluttered coffee table. “I am so not in the mood for a lecture on my domestic shortcomings.”
He had the decency to look apologetic.
“Sorry.” He reached inside his leather bomber jacket and pulled out the test kit. “I guess we should just get this over with, huh?”
“We?” Like he had to go in the bathroom and pee on a stick. Like he had to endure months of torture if it was positive. A guy like him wouldn’t last a week on the nest. He may have been tough, may have been able to bench press a compact car, but five minutes of hard labor and he would be toast.
Her mother had done home births for Zoë’s three youngest siblings and Zoë had had the misfortune of being stuck in the room with her for the last one. She had witnessed the horror. Going through it once seemed like torture enough, but understandable since most women probably didn’t realize what they were getting themselves into. But nine times. That was just crazy.
“I’m afraid to go in there,” she said.
Nick reached up and dropped one big, work-roughened hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “We’re in this together, Zoë. Whatever the outcome. We’ll get through it.”
It amazed her at times, how such a big, burly guy who oozed testosterone could be so damned tender and sweet. Not that the stubborn, overbearing alpha male gene had passed him by. He could be a major pain in the behind, too. But he’d never let her down in a time of need and she didn’t believe for a second that he would now.
“Okay, here goes.” She took the test kit from him and walked to the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind her, her stomach tangled in knots. She opened the box and with a trembling hand spilled the contents out onto the vanity.
“Please, God,” she whispered, “let it be negative.”
She read the instructions three times, just to be sure she was doing it right, then followed them word for word. It was amazingly quick and simple for such a life-altering procedure. Too simple.
Less than five minutes later, after rereading the instructions one more time just to be sure, she had her answer.
Nick paced the living room rug, his eye on the bathroom door, wondering what in the heck was taking Zoë so long. She’d been in there almost twenty minutes now and he hadn’t heard a peep out of her. No curdling screams, no thud to indicate she’d hit the floor in a dead faint. And no whoops of joy.
It was ironic that not five minutes before she stepped into her office he’d been thinking about having children. Just not with her, and not quite so soon. Ideally he would like to be married, but life had a way of throwing a curve ball.
At least, his life did.
He let out a thundering sneeze and glanced with disdain at the fluffy white ball of fur sunbathing on the front windowsill. It stared back at him with scornful green eyes.
He was so not a cat person.
He sat on the couch, propped his elbows on his knees and rested his chin on his fisted hands.
So what if she was pregnant?
The truth was, this was all happening so fast, he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. What he did know is that if she didn’t come out of the damned bathroom soon, he was going to pound the door down. It couldn’t possibly take this long. He remembered the box specifically stating something about results in only minutes.
As if conjuring her through sheer will, the bathroom door swung open and Zoë stepped out. Nick shot to his feet. He didn’t have to ask what the results were, he could see it in her waxy, pasty-white pallor. Her wide, glassy-eyed disbelief.
“Oh boy,” he breathed. Zoë was pregnant.
He was going to be a father. They were going to be parents.
Together.
She looked about two seconds from passing out cold, so he walked over to where she stood and pulled her into his arms. She collapsed against him, her entire body trembling.
She rested her forehead on his chest, wrapped her arms around him, and he buried his nose in her hair. She smelled spicy and sweet, like cinnamon and apples. He realized, he’d missed this. Since that night in the hotel, he’d been itching to get his arms around her again.
He’d almost forgotten just how good it felt to be close to her, how perfectly she fit in his arms. Something had definitely changed between them that night in the hotel. Something that he doubted would ever change back.
For a while they only held each other, until she’d stopped shaking and she wasn’t breathing so hard. Until she had gone from cold and rigid to warm and relaxed in his arms.
He cupped her chin and tilted her face up. “It’s going to be okay.”
“What are we going to do?” she asked.
“Well, I guess we’re going to have a baby,” he said, and felt the corners of his mouth begin to tip up.
Zoë gaped at him, her look going from bewilderment to abject horror. She broke from his grasp and took a step back. “Oh my God.”
“What?”
“You’re smiling. You’re happy about this.”
Was he?
The smile spread to encompass his entire face. He tried to stop it, then realized it was impossible. He really was happy. For five years now he’d felt it was time to settle down and start a family. True, this wasn’t exactly how he planned it, and he sure as hell hadn’t planned on doing it with Zoë, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t work. That didn’t mean they shouldn’t at least give it a shot.
He gave her a shrug. “Yeah, I guess I am. Would you feel better if I was angry?”
“Of course not. But do you have even the slightest clue what we’re getting into? What I’ll have to go through?”
She made it sound as though he was making her remove an appendage. “You’re having a baby, Zoë. It’s not as if it’s never been done before.”
“Of course it has, but have you ever actually witnessed a baby being born?”
No, but he definitely wanted to be in the delivery room. He wouldn’t miss that for anything. “I’m sure it will be fascinating.”
“Fascinating? I was there when my mom had Jonah, my youngest brother.”
“And?”
“Have you ever seen the movie, The Thing?” she asked, and he nodded. “You remember the scene where the alien bursts out of the guy and there is this huge spray of blood and guts? Well, it’s kinda’ like that. Only it goes on for hours. And hurts twice as much.
“And that’s only the beginning,” she went on, in full rant. “After it’s born there are sleepless nights to look forward to and endless dirty diapers. Never having a second to yourself…a moment’s silence. They cry and whine and demand and smother. Not to mention that they cost a fortune. Then they get older and there’s school and homework and rebellion. It never ends. They’re yours to worry about and pull your hair out over until the day you die.”
Wow. He knew she was jaded by her past, but he’d never expected her to be this traumatized.
“Zoë, you were just a kid when you had to take care of your brothers and sisters. It wasn’t fair for your parents to burden you with that much responsibility.” He rubbed a hand down her arm, trying to get her to relax and see things rationally. “Right now you’re still in shock. I know that when you take some time to digest it, you’ll be happy.”
She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I’m not ready for this. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready for it.”
A startling, disturbing thought occurred to him. What if she didn’t want to have the baby? What if she was thinking about terminating the pregnancy? It was her body so, of course, the choice was up to her, but he’d do whatever he could to talk her out of it, to rationalize with her.
“Are you saying you don’t want to have the baby?” he asked.
She looked up at him, confused. “It’s not like I have a choice.”
“Every woman has a choice, Zoë.”
She gave him another one of those horrified looks and folded a hand protectively over her stomach. He didn’t think she even realized she was doing it. “I’m not going to get rid of it if that’s what you mean. What kind of person do you think I am?”
Thankfully, not that kind. “I’ve never considered raising a baby on my own, but I will if that’s what you want.”
“Of course that’s not what I want! I could never give a baby up. Once you have it, it’s yours. My brothers and sisters may have driven me crazy but I love them to death. I wouldn’t trade them in for anything.”
He rubbed a hand across the stubble on his jaw. “You’re confusing the hell out of me.”
“I’m keeping the baby,” she said firmly. “I’m just…I guess I’m still in shock. This was not a part of my master plan. And you’re the last man on earth I saw myself doing it with. No offense.”
“None taken.” How could he be offended when he’d been thinking the same thing earlier. Although maybe not the last on earth part.
She walked over to the couch and crumpled onto the cushions. “My parents are going to kill me. They think I’m still a good Catholic girl. A twenty-eight-year-old, snow-white virgin who goes to church twice a week. What am I going to tell them?”
Nick sat down beside her. He slipped an arm around her shoulder and she leaned into him, soft and warm.
Yeah, this was nice. It felt…right.
And just like that he knew exactly what he needed to do.
“I guess you only have one choice,” he said.
“Live the rest of my life in shame?”
Her pessimism made him grin. “No. I think you should marry me.”
Zoë pulled out of Nick’s arms and stared up at him. “Marry you? Are you crazy?”
Dumb question, Zoë. Of course he was crazy.
Rather than being angry with her, he smiled, as if he’d been expecting her to question his sanity. “What’s so crazy about it?”
If he couldn’t figure that out himself, he really was nuts.
“If we get married right away, your parents don’t have to know you were already pregnant. Problem solved.”
And he thought marrying someone he didn’t love wouldn’t be a problem? Not that kind of love anyway. She didn’t doubt that he loved her as a friend, and she him, but that wasn’t enough.
“We’re both feeling emotional and confused,” she said. He more than her, obviously. “Maybe we should take a day or two to process this before we make any kind of life altering decisions.”
“We’re having a baby together, Zoë. You don’t get much more life altering than that.”
“My point exactly. We have a lot to consider.”
“Look, I know you’re not crazy about the idea of getting married to anyone—”
“And you’re too crazy about it. Did you even stop to think that you would be marrying me for all the wrong reasons? You want Susie homemaker. Someone to squeeze out your babies, keep your house clean and have dinner waiting in the oven when you get home from work. Well, take a look around you, Nick. My life is in shambles. My house is a disaster and if I can’t microwave myself a meal in five minutes or less, I don’t buy it.”
He didn’t look hurt by her refusal, which made her that much more certain marrying him would be a bad idea. She could never be the cardboard cutout wife he was looking for. She wouldn’t be any kind of a wife at all.
And even if they could get past all of that, it still wouldn’t work. He was such a good guy. Perfect in so many ways. Except the one that counted the most.
He didn’t love her.
She took his hand between her two. It was rough and slightly calloused from years of working construction with his employees. He may have owned the company, may have had more money than God, but he liked getting his hands dirty. He liked to feel the sun on his back and fresh air in his lungs. One day cooped up in the office and he was climbing the walls.
She didn’t doubt that he would put just as much of himself into his marriage. He was going to make some lucky woman one hell of a good husband.
Just not her.
“It was a noble gesture. But I think we both need to take some time and decide what it is we really want.”
“How much time?” he asked.
“I’m going to have to make a doctor’s appointment. Let’s get through that first then we’ll worry about the other stuff.”
Who knows, maybe she got a false positive from the pregnancy test. Maybe she would get a blood test at the doctor’s office and find out they had done all this worrying for nothing.
Four
“Congratulations! Your test was positive! If you haven’t yet made a follow-up appointment with Doctor Gordon, please dial one. If you need to speak to a nurse, dial two—”
Zoë hung up the phone in her office, cutting short the obnoxiously perky prerecorded message she’d gotten when she phoned the doctor’s office for her blood test results.
It was official. Not that it hadn’t been official before. The blood test had just been a formality. She was definitely, without a doubt, having Nick’s baby.
Oh boy.
Or girl, she supposed.
She would walk down to his office and tell him, but he’d been in her office every ten minutes wondering if she’d made the call.
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