Best of Three (Counting on Love) (30 page)

The stupidest part was that she felt…right. Not just good. Not hot or hungry or any of those feelings he so easily brought out in her. But right. Like she was where she was supposed to be.

And when she let that thought sink in, she felt something else—really damned scared.

Emma pulled his head down, putting them forehead to forehead. He couldn’t see into her eyes like this and at the moment she wasn’t sure she could hide these feelings from him.

Nate’s thrusts were deep and slow and Emma felt them along every nerve ending and inch of skin.

“You feel amazing. I’ve been thinking about you nonstop.”

Her body responded to his husky voice like it did to his touch, growing softer and warmer and wetter, wanting more and more of him.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he told her, stroking in and out, steady and deep, filling her.

The words made her inner muscles grip him harder.

“The feel of you, the way you sound, the way you taste…” he continued.

She arched, wiggled, shifted, not able to get any closer but not feeling close enough.

Nate caught his breath and she felt an incredible surge of power.

“I missed you, Em,” he said hoarsely.

That was the spark she needed to send her careening into an intense orgasm. She tightened her legs around him and muffled her cry against his shoulder. He put a hand against the back of her head, holding her to him and came right on the heels of her climax, his fingers tightening in her hair as he rode it out.

They stayed entwined for a few minutes afterward, their breathing and heart rates slowing.

Emma clung to him the whole time, not wanting to let go and not wanting him to see her face. She was sure every single stupid emotion was going to show.

Finally, it was Nate that pulled back. Of course it was. Emma couldn’t do it. She never clung to guys—figuratively or literally—but she couldn’t let Nate go.

“I didn’t mean to do any more than kiss you,” he told her smoothing her hair back from her face.

His hand on her cheek made her bite her bottom lip to keep from saying something revealing. Something like “if you wanted to touch me like that forever, that would be okay with me.”

“I meant to kiss you and ask you to dinner Saturday night.”

This was Saturday night. Technically Sunday morning. “You want to take me to dinner in a week?” she asked.

He stepped back and tucked himself back in, straightening his clothes before he bent to retrieve her shorts. “Yes.” He let the shorts dangle from his fingertip. “I would love to take you on a date.”

Her heart tripped. Dammit. “A date?” That was maybe not the best idea if she wanted to keep from falling all the way in love with him.

He smiled. “Yes. A date. Dinner. Maybe a movie or something.”

She grabbed her shorts and slid from the table, shimmying them on. “Are you going to at least call me for ‘lunch’ at your office before then?” It was out of place with his nice invitation. But it was a defensive move. He was not acting like the Nate she thought she knew, that she’d always known. The one who had no qualms about telling her she was too loud or too crude or too flirty or too…lots of things. The one who bickered with her. The one who bossed her and made her hot.

She could handle all of those guys.

“I’ll think about it every day,” he said, his eyes darkening slightly at the reminder about their last lunch. “But it’s a crazy week. Since I’ve been gone, we’ve packed my schedule this week. Lots of surgeries, longer office hours. And I need to spend some time with Michael.”

“He’s fine, Nate,” she felt compelled to say. “He was the one with the level head at the party. He was looking out for Shannon.”

“I know.” Nate ran a hand over his hair. “But we need to reconnect. I’ve been gone from him too.”

She understood all of that. What she didn’t understand was why she wanted so much to be one of the priorities that he wanted to reconnect with this week. God, how stupid. She wasn’t even a girlfriend. She was a…fuck buddy. That he was going to take on a date.

“Say you’ll go out with me next weekend.”

“If I can spend the night.” She had to keep this on a level she could understand and deal with.

He frowned slightly but nodded. “There’s no way in hell I’ll ever say no to having you in my bed, Emma.”

The way that made his voice go lower got her all hot and bothered again. And the part of her that glommed on to the
ever
in his sentence, the one tiny word that made it sound like it could be a
for
ever thing, made her stomach hurt. He didn’t mean that. It wasn’t like this was going to last.

“Then I’ll go,” she said, trying to lighten her tone.

He hesitated, like there was something else to ask. But finally he said, “I’d better get Michael home.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

“I’ll talk to you soon.”

“I’ll keep my phone on,” she said, using the words he’d said to her so often.

He gave her one more intense look. “Do that.”

She didn’t reply and she hung back in the kitchen as Nate went to collect his son.

When she heard the front door shut, she let her shoulders slump.

Falling in love with Nate Sullivan was not a good idea.

Too bad she’d already done it.

“You didn’t use condoms?” Isabelle asked Emma five days later.

Emma frowned at Isabelle. “Of course we used condoms. Eight of them.”

There had been no warning. She hadn’t felt sick, she hadn’t lost her breakfast, she hadn’t been so tired she could hardly function. These were all things she knew were common. She’d simply missed a period by a week. And then, yesterday and today, her jeans felt a little tight. She was bloated. What the hell was that?

But she knew what the hell could cause a missed period and bloating.

Nate Sullivan.

Emma slumped further into the couch and glared at the little pink line that had just changed her life.

There was a long pause. Isabelle sat forward on the couch. “You and Nate had sex
nine times
in one night?”

“Six times in one night,” Emma told her. “And once at the studio. And one time in the kitchen. Eight times.”

“But you’re pregnant.”

Emma squeezed her eyes shut and slid lower on the couch. “I know.”

“Which means you used
seven
condoms.”

Emma’s eyes popped open. “I’m telling you that we used a condom
every
time, Iz. Every single time.”

“Does he know how to put them on correctly?” Isabelle asked.

Emma snorted at that. “You kind of have to wonder, don’t you? I’d give him a lesson, but it doesn’t matter now.”

Isabelle sat back. “Six times in one night is impressive.”

It sure had been.

“You couldn’t have missed once?”

“Nope.”

“I can go get one more test.”

Emma sat up and swung her legs over the side of the couch. She’d peed on three of the stupid sticks. They all showed the same damned thing.

“No. It’s positive. I’m pregnant.”

Isabelle stared at her. It was the first time Emma had said it out loud. “Wow,” she said quietly.

Emma nodded. Wow was an understatement.

Isabelle got up and came to Emma. She took Emma’s hands and pulled her to her feet, then wrapped her in a hug. “I’m happy for you, Em.”

Emma laughed softly, hugging her back. “Happy? That’s a nice word to use.”

Isabelle squeezed her before stepping back. “It will be okay.”

Emma nodded. “I know.”

She did. She was financially stable. She was healthy. She had a great family. Of course, she was going to keep this from Conner for as long as possible. She might invite him to the kid’s first birthday. By then he or she should be super cute and Conner wouldn’t be able to be mad at her. But her sisters would be great and her mother would love being a grandma—as soon as she got over the shock of it being Emma that gave her the first grandchild. “Thank you.”

“Are you going to tell him Saturday night?”

Saturday night was their date night. Their first date.

She hadn’t seen him all week. He’d called her twice and texted once. One night on the phone she’d turned things around on him and talked
him
through an orgasm. That had been the sexiest thing she’d ever heard. Especially him groaning her name as he came. The next night they’d talked past midnight. It had started out as a sexy contest. He’d seemed determined to not get distracted like he had the night before. She was equally determined to do it all again. But they’d ended up laughing and talking about their first time and their first date and that led to talking about other firsts and other high school memories and then other memories in general.

Then there was his text. She’d opened it expecting an order. Or at least something hot. Instead he’d simply said,
I can’t wait for Saturday night.

She’d teared up.

That should have been her other indication that something was off with her hormones.

“I can’t tell him Saturday. That’s two days away. I can’t keep it from him for two more days,” she said to Isabelle. “And it’s our first date. It’s the first thing we’ve done together that’s just sweet and romantic.”

It might be silly, but she didn’t want their first date to be accompanied by one of the biggest shocks of his life. And this baby would be, she had no doubt. She had wanted the date to be about…them dating. About maybe possibly seeing if they might want to start something more than a sex-only fling. Perhaps.

Becoming parents together was a bit beyond
maybe
getting serious.

“What are you going to do?”

“Tell him in a somewhat public place where he can’t freak out but private enough that he can process it.”

“You know I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”

“How about carrying this baby for about nine months for me?”

“I would
help
with that if I could,” Isabelle said.

“Or I’ll handle the nine months and you do the labor and delivery part for me.”

Isabelle grinned. “I might be busy that day.”

“Uh-huh.” Emma knew that Isabelle would absolutely be right by her bed throughout the whole thing, as would Amanda and Olivia. But Emma was going to have to do the hard work.

“And I think I’m also going to be busy the day you tell Conner,” Isabelle added.

Emma groaned, then shook her head. “I can’t even think about that right now. I have another guy to dread telling first.”

Isabelle held out her phone. “Then do it.”

Emma took the phone and punched speed dial four. “Hi, this is Emma Dixon. I need to make an appointment with Dr. Sullivan. Today. As late as possible.”

Chapter Eleven

“Our last patient is in exam room five.”

Nate looked up from his computer to find Jeremy, the intern that was following him for the week while Dr. Miller was out, standing in his office doorway. “Last and patient are two of my favorite words right now.”

It had been a hell of a week. He’d been slammed at work, at the office until late, in the OR early and trying to have dinner with Michael at least three of the nights since he’d returned from Chicago. He was pleased with how things had gone both at work and at home. Michael had opened up more about his relationship with Shannon and was still talking about college, and Nate felt confident that his son had his head on straight. Or as straight as it could be when there was a woman involved.

In fact, Michael was doing better than Nate.

Nate was a mess.

He missed Emma like crazy. He thought about her constantly. It was a completely anomaly. He never got too distracted over women. Ever.

He pushed back from his desk. The sooner he got this last patient seen, the sooner he could get home. It was Thursday. One more day and it would finally be Saturday and he was taking Emma on a date.

He hadn’t been this excited about a night out with someone since his high school prom. He was going to wine and dine her, take her out on the town, make her laugh and flirt with her, make her feel beautiful, spend an obscene amount of money on her and then take her home to bed and not let her leave until Monday morning.

And, though she didn’t know it yet, the date was going to start early. He was picking her up for brunch Saturday morning. Screw waiting for Saturday night. Who ever said a date had to be at night anyway?

“Who are we seeing?” he asked Jeremy as they turned toward room five. He knew this was a last minute call-in. He was supposed to be done by now, but he trusted Shelby, his receptionist and keeper of his schedule, to know when someone needed to get in quickly.

Jeremy flipped the top paper on his clipboard up to read what was underneath it. “Looks like a post-op pelvic fracture. Emma Dixon.”

Nate’s heart thumped hard in his chest and he tripped.

He stopped and looked at Jeremy. “Emma Dixon called in to see me today?”