Baby by Design: Designing Love Book One (Crimson Romance) (6 page)

She chuckled, but she also gnawed the inside of her bottom lip. Being raised by a bunch of women made him an expert in female, nonverbal communication.

“If you want to talk, I’m good at listening,” he said, gripping her headrest and twisting for a better view as he backed out of the parking spot. “Plus, I know what it’s like to have a lot on my mind. Maybe I can help.”

Her inhale and exhale echoed inside the car. “Tony, I’m sorry. I must seem silly, brooding about my little problems when your family is dealing with Nonna’s illness.”

“Problems are problems.” He hugged the shoulder of the road, not wanting to take any chances with the oncoming traffic and Vin’s car.

“Some problems are bigger than others. Angie said the cancer is inoperable.”

These days everybody wanted to talk about Nonna. Her treatment. Her wish list. How much time she had left.

Tony hated funerals.

Sweaty hands gripped the steering wheel as he stared into oncoming headlights, trying not to relive every gory, emotional detail about his father’s funeral, but the memories were strong enough to make him wince.

“I wish there was something I could do,” Trish said, laying a hand on his thigh. His muscles contracted at the warmth of her palm.

He stared harder at the passing traffic. “Yeah, that seems to be the sentiment. “

“And that’s the reason for the list.”

“Yep. But that list’s sort of become a thorn in my side.”

“Why?”

“Because damned if I know what to do. I highly doubt a ride on a Harley’s going to cut it, and I don’t think she wants an upholstered rocking chair. She wants me to become a priest…” Trish laughed. “Exactly, or get married and have babies.”

Trish stopped laughing on a tiny whoop. He looked at her, catching her eyes wide and her cheeks puffed, like she was holding her breath. “She’s crazy, right?” he asked, waiting for Trish’s lips to break open on a wave of fresh laughter.

But the laughter never came. Instead, she nodded and then turned her head so she faced the passenger window.

Maybe he disappointed her, too. He was getting good at that.

“I’m adopted,” she said. “It’s amazing for me to witness a real family coming together to lessen the pain of one of their own.”

She tipped her head slightly, and he could’ve sworn he saw a glimmer of wet in the corner of her eye, alongside her nose.

He looked back to the road. “I didn’t know you were adopted.”

“Not many people do. I’m a little uncomfortable with the topic.”

His chest puffed on the realization that she was telling him. “You shouldn’t be uncomfortable. Family is more than blood, you know? I have a couple buddies who feel an awful lot like brothers to me. Just don’t tell a Corcarelli I said that. They place an awful lot of credence on that ‘blood-is-thicker-than-water’ thing.”

“I know they do. I watch you and Angie and it makes me sad I’ll never know what that feels like.”

“What? To want to punch the lights out of someone you love?” He chuckled. “Nah. She’s a good kid. Tough on me, though. Woo wee. Tougher than Ma and Nonna. Those two sort of balance Angie out.”

Tony had no idea what would happen once Nonna was gone.

More memories from the days following his father’s funeral snuck into Tony’s brain.
You gotta run the business, Tony. Dontcha wanna be like him?
Tony struggled for other memories, recent, stronger memories to push the bad ones away. The first one to come to mind was Trish on the dance floor.

He grabbed it in a sleeper hold. “Where’d you learn to dance like that?” he asked, not caring one bit if the dramatic change in subject made him look like a jerk.

She made a cute noise, half-laugh half-cough. “Me? How about you? I just bounce. All women can bounce. It’s a prerequisite to having kids and bouncing them to sleep. But you? I’ve never known a man to dance and not look like a fool. You did not look like a fool.”

He glanced at her then, and she was smiling. He loved the way the expression lifted her cheeks into perfect round balls. “Thanks, but it’s no great feat. When you come from a family as big as mine, you go to a lot of weddings.”

And funerals. Those horrid memories lingered. And that was the problem. Life was a pinball game of weddings and funerals, bouncing from one to the other, throwing in a christening here and there. At the moment, not a single unattached Corcarelli was ready to marry, which meant the next bumper he’d hit was a funeral. Nonna’s funeral.

His brain mashed the thoughts into a wayward image of Nonna at the last family wedding. She beamed while Father Joe blessed the unholy union of Vin and Carrie. Even Nonna knew the relationship was shaky, but she smiled anyway, content with the priest’s proclamation that the pair was a couple before God and man. Hokey if you asked Tony, especially since the marriage was annulled three months later. But considering what was happening now with Nonna’s cancer, he was sort of thankful for Vin’s mistake. That wedding gave Nonna great joy.

If only Tony could find his own Carrie. Not that he wanted to be married to a gold digger. Not that he had much gold to give. But a woman who had no intention of staying married to him, a woman who would eagerly let him off the hook three months after giving Nonna the biggest thrill of what was left of her life? Yeah, Tony could use one of those.

Problem was, where to find her on such short notice.

• • •

Trish looked at Tony, holding open the passenger side door, and then to the lighted front porch of her house. She wanted to get out of the car. She knew she should get out of the car, put some distance between her and the subject of her crazy idea. But her body wouldn’t move. It was as if every cell of her being knew this was her best shot.

At what? Insanity? Trish balked.

“You sure you don’t want to talk about it?” He leaned an elbow on the top of the car door and tipped his head to the right. Moonlight sparkled in his hair and eyes.

“I’m sure.” There was no way she wanted to talk about him being the father of her baby. Thinking about talking about it was bad enough. She swung her legs around and planted her heels on the pavement.

His gaze followed. Instead of the usual inappropriate comment, he simply smiled and backed away, giving her room to stand.

Now what? Shake his hand and skitter away? Hug him? The thought of him holding her close like he did on the dance floor had her nerves dropping like dead weight into the pit of her stomach.

“Thanks again, Tony.” She flashed a quick smile and brushed by him, hoping her quickstep up the walk didn’t look as foolish as it felt.

When she stopped on the porch to gather her keys, she heard footsteps on the wooden stairs behind her.

“You didn’t have to walk me to the door,” she said, spinning around to face him.

He grinned. “Yes, I did. A Corcarelli man is taught never to shirk his duties. Escorting a woman to the safety of her front door is one of them. Besides, I promised your father I would get you home safely.”

She nodded. “Honorable.” And then she dropped her head and her attention to the bottom of her purse, because her thoughts were anything but. The minute he’d mentioned his struggles with Nonna’s wish list, and Nonna’s desire for him to marry and have kids, Trish’s brain started concocting a plan.

“In this instance, yes. I’m being honorable.”

“In every instance I’ve ever witnessed you in,” she chattered as she pushed aside a tube of lipstick and a travel pack of tissues. She wasn’t even sure what she was chattering about. She only hoped the conversation would keep things cordial without him asking something stupid like could he come in, because she’d say yes, and then she’d end up propositioning him—and not in the usual way. Nope, there was nothing usual about asking a man to father her child—so he could make his grandmother’s wish come true, while he made Trish’s wish come true, too.

“You haven’t witnessed me in many places outside work. That’s where I run into trouble.”

“It’s all in good fun, I’m sure.” She wrapped her hand around the silver key and yanked it from her purse. In her overzealousness, the key clanged to the porch floorboards.

Tony sunk on a bend of his knees and gathered what she’d dropped. When he stood, he leaned past her and slid the key into the deadbolt lock. With a flick of his wrist, the door fanned open.

“There,” he said, lifting her right hand palm up where he could deposit the key. He cradled her hand while his fingertips pressed into her palm around the cool metal.

“Thank you,” she stammered.

“Don’t mention it.”

There was something else she shouldn’t mention, something that bit at the tip of her tongue. As she fought with the words, she stared up at his handsome face, noticing how his dark eyes and brows reminded her of Angie’s, but how his wider nose twisted the familial resemblance into a unique, masculine edge.

“Do you want to come in?” Somehow Trish managed not to cringe. Apparently a wandering mind led to loose lips.

Tony opened his mouth, and his shoulders rose and fell. “I want to do a lot of things I shouldn’t. That tends to be what gets me labeled as the black sheep of my family.”

He was still holding her hand, but the pressure of his fingertips had lightened until the tickle to her palm caused by the vague movement of a simple breath had her hanging on his answer. “Is that a yes or a no?”

With a grin, he closed her fingers around the key and dropped her hand. “I think I better get the car back to Vin.”

Disappointment throttled the hope his grin had created. “Okay.”

His brows furrowed, and she wondered if the disappointment showed on her face.

“You wouldn’t want to come with me, would you?” he asked, his brows still knotted above his nose, like he wasn’t at all certain he should be asking the question in the first place.

Trish made a quick mental list of her options, which included heading to bed—alone—or prolonging her evening with Tony. “Yes,” she said.

“It would involve riding my bike home.”

She looked down at her dress. “I’m not sure I can ride in this.”

“I saw you dance in that, remember.” He winked. “If you can grind, you can ride.”

Before she could do something about the recklessness taking over her normally practical mind, Tony reached out to close her front door. He took the key from her hand, locked the house, and then pulled her off the front porch.

“Don’t tell Angie,” he said. His quick smile gave Trish the feeling he was only partly joking.

“I won’t.” She slid back onto the passenger seat and let him close the door behind her.

Her brain echoed the mantra
what am I doing
. Her heart was afraid of the answer. Regardless, by the time the sun came up she knew she was going to take this thing with Tony too far.

Vin’s gated riverside condo complex glowed beneath the sparkle of a cloudless sky. Tony admired the stars and the perfect night for riding. That sky was the best reason yet to ditch this car. Not that the car wasn’t great. Not that Tony wasn’t thankful for the loan. But the car came with too much responsibility to keep it scratch-free—and too much room in the single row of seats. More than once on the five-mile drive from Trish’s house to Vin’s condo, he’d entertained thoughts of stretching her lush body along these vintage leather seats.

Clearly the night wasn’t going to end until he did something stupid. The least he could do was not involve Vin’s precious car.

After snaking his way to the back of the complex and the river’s edge, Tony hit the button on the garage opener and guided the car into the empty spot next to his beloved bike. With any luck Vin wouldn’t come sniffing around for damage until Tony and Trish were long gone.

Tony put the car in park just as the door to the house opened. Vin stepped into the garage, wearing nothing but a pair of basketball shorts and a scowl, and he was looking right at Trish.

“He looks angry,” she mumbled.

“You’ve seen him at enough family functions to know he always looks angry. Ignore him.” Tony pushed out of the car and smiled at Vin. “I brought her home in one piece.”

“I see that,” Vin leered, looking from Trish to Tony and back to Trish again.

“Not a mark on her.”

“Yet.” Vin stared at Tony a second longer, and then dropped his searing gaze to inspect his car.

“Hi, Vin. Nice to see you again. Great car.” Trish’s voice wobbled. She stood between the car and Tony’s bike, wringing her hands like a teenager caught by her father during a driveway make out session. Flushed cheeks. Sparkling eyes. Gnawed bottom lip. It was a great look on her.

“Tony,” Vin barked.

“Yeah,” Tony answered, turning his face from Trish to the drill sergeant in the doorway.

“How ’bout you come inside and get your keys.” He tossed a curt nod to Trish and disappeared into the condo.

Tony smiled at her.

“Are you in trouble?” she asked, a crooked grin on her reddened face.

“Probably. Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

When Tony walked into the condo, he came face to face with Vin. “You are a fucking moron.”

Tony nodded. “Thanks for the compliment. Now give me my keys.”

“Not if you’re going to take them and drive that lady anywhere else but to her home, where you will leave her the hell alone.”

“I appreciate your concern.” Despite the itch he had to deck Vin for the self-righteous lecture, Tony smiled and held out his hand.

Vin dropped the keys in Tony’s palm, but then quick as lightning, strangled his wrist. “Appreciate this. Ange will skin you alive if she knows you’re messing with her best friend.”

Tony ripped his hand free. “Thanks for the car, Vin.” He stormed out of the condo before things got ugly.

Not convinced Vin wouldn’t follow to embarrass Tony by lecturing in front of Trish, Tony half-sprinted to the bike, where she waited.

“I don’t know how to do this.” She looked pale.

He didn’t have time to put her fears to rest. Shrugging out of his suit coat, he tossed it at her. “Put that on. It’s gonna get cold.” Then he grabbed the handlebars and tossed his right leg over the seat, walking the bike backward out of the garage until he was facing forward in the driveway.