My Best Friend's Baby (10 page)

"Don't know what?" he interrupted. "Don't
know why you don't get some help?"

Larry wriggled in his arms. Frustrated, Nick
scanned the neighborhood and saw that the postman had already
gotten into his vehicle. Larry would be safe on his own—for the
moment. He dumped his dog-breath burden onto the gravel and went on
talking.

"You're right, Chloe. I don't know why you
insist on being so stubborn that you'd rather risk hurting yourself
than ask for help."

"I don't need help."

"Ha! That's a laugh, after today. If I
hadn't—" He glimpsed Larry nudging sideways, casting longing looks
toward the sidewalk. "Larry, stay."

The dog looked up and cocked his head,
seeming at a loss to understand the command.
Great
, he
thought as Larry gave him a tentative tail wag.
Even her dog is
featherbrained
.

"Stay," Nick growled.

"He responds better to kindness," Chloe said
quietly.
And so do I
, her expression said.

"Chloe—"

"Come on, Larry," she said, her voice
quavery. "We—we've got a walk to finish. Doctor's orders."

The dog got up—Nick would've sworn the mutt
rolled his eyes at his ignored ‘stay' command—then sneezed and
sauntered away with Chloe. A definite swagger propelled all four of
his doggie legs.

At least one of the males present had
managed to stay in Chloe's good graces. How could it not be Nick,
when he'd done all he could to protect her? It didn't make sense.
Nothing drove him crazy like things not making sense. But it wasn't
illogic that made him call out to her. It was something far less
defined and much more irresistible.

It was the sudden, crazy need to take care
of Chloe. To keep her safe and happy. Him. Not one of her Brunos or
anybody else. Just him.

If he'd stopped to think about it, the whole
idea would've probably scared the hell out of him. But the sight of
Chloe swaying down the street—leaving him behind—shook everything
else from Nick's mind.

"Chloe, wait—"

She turned. And waited, with a sad look in
her eyes that hurt just to see it. It worried him, to see her
fighting spirit dampened, even if only for a block or two. Even if
only for as long as she needed to power walk out of his sight.

Frowning, he reached her and, with one hand
on her waist, drew her closer to him. She bumped along reluctantly,
twisting Larry's leash from its dispenser between them until they
stood toe to toe.

"Wait," he whispered.

She gazed up at him, all sweetness and
seduction without even knowing it ... and frowned in confusion.
"Nick?"

In her place, he'd be wondering what the
hell was up, too. But the combination of her nearness and the
realization that his hand fit perfectly into the delicate curve at
the small of her back waylaid his explanation. It was as though
he'd been born to hold her this way. Damp heat rose through her
bright T-shirt to tease his palm, and Nick suddenly itched to slip
his hand beneath the fabric and feel her bare skin on his instead.
Why hadn't he ever held her like this before? She felt better than
he could've imagined.

"That was a rotten thing I said back there,"
Nick murmured, bending his head almost low enough to make their
foreheads meet. The scent of her tropical perfume wafted between
them, feminine and almost tantalizing enough to make him forget the
woman in his arms was Chloe, his best friend. She needed him
now—not as another one of her muscle-headed Brunos, but as the
voice of reason.

Damn, but it was hard to be reasonable when
her softness surrounded him and the curve of her hip melted into
his forearm like it was now. It made him wonder how soft she'd be
everywhere else ... without eye-popping clothes and a layer of
anger between them.

Only one of those barriers could be dealt
with on a city sidewalk in broad daylight. "I'm sorry I said
it."

"You meant it," Chloe said matter-of-factly.
Her spine straightened against his hand, and he felt her take in a
deep breath. "Or else you wouldn't have said it. I'm a big girl,
Nick. I can handle it."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah!"

He tightened his hold on her waist. His
other hand went to her front and captured the frayed line from
Larry's leash.

"Well, you can't handle this." One sharp tug
snapped the line in two.

Chloe gasped. At her feet, Larry sat down
and scratched his paw over his ear, not caring he was technically
free to roam wild through the neighborhood. He looked bored with
the whole thing.

Chloe didn't. She stepped out of his arms
and propped her hands on her hips. The old Chloe was back, and she
was mad.

"What's that supposed to prove? That you're
some big he-man who can snap a couple inches of leash line? Sorry,
not impressed."

She wheeled around. Nick grabbed her elbow
and yanked her back. "It proves you can't handle things as well as
you think you can," he said, letting the remainder of the leash
spool back into the holder. How could she be so stubborn, so blind
to the facts?

"It's just a broken leash!" she said, waving
her arm.

"You're right. And this—" He put his hand to
the curve of her belly, felt the warmth and life within her. "—is
just a baby. Your baby."

She went still, paled and pressed her hand
over his. "Don't do this, Nick. Please, I—"

"You need help, Chloe. Have you told
Brutus—"

"Bruno."

"—about the baby yet? Because he has a
responsibility to fulfill. He should take care of you, marry you,
do whatever it takes." At her mournful look, Nick rubbed his thumb
gently over her belly and went on. "I'm warning you, Chloe. If you
won't make sure you're taken care of ... I will."

Chapter Six

He'd take care of her
? What in the
world did he mean?

Chloe bit her lip, trying to hold in the
surge of joy she felt. Then her elation wavered. The last thing she
wanted was for Nick to take care of her out of some antiquated
sense of responsibility. Their baby deserved more, and so did
she.

Besides, if Nick really wanted her for
himself, why did he have to keep bringing up Bruno? And why now, of
all times? The two of them were near enough to tango, close enough
to kiss. A million miles away from the love she'd touched so
briefly.

Why, oh why, had she invented Bruno? He'd
only complicated things better left simply heart wrenching and
insolvable.

"I don't want a man who'd only marry me out
of duty," Chloe said. "That's no kind of life for me." She looked
up at him, needing to make him understand. "Don't you get it yet,
Einstein? I want the whole fairy-tale ending. White picket fence, a
ring on my finger ... and a man who loves me."

Nick's thumb caressed her belly again.
"There's more than yourself to think about now."

She couldn't believe what she was hearing.
Why wouldn't he understand?

"That's the whole point, you big idiot!"

Tears gathered in her eyes, blurring her
vision until Nick didn't even look like someone she knew anymore.
Blinking hard, Chloe bent to catch hold of Larry's collar and urge
him to his feet. She had to leave, had to get out of there before
she blurted the whole sordid truth to Nick and ruined
everything.

"I'll see you around," she said, sniffling
as she churned down the sidewalk. Power walking was almost
impossible when you couldn't see anything, she was discovering.
"I've got more indulgent and incredibly self-absorbed things to do
with my time than be lectured to."

Behind her, Nick mumbled something about
hormones and irrational women. Something stupid enough to make her
blood boil, probably, if she stopped to listen. So she didn't.

Chloe was already at her front door,
scrabbling around in the zebra-striped mailbox affixed beside her
doorbell, by the time Nick caught up with her.

"What do you want now?" she asked, throwing
her hands up in frustration.

The mailbox lid clinked shut, neatly hiding
the wrapped package of books she'd left inside for her mail
carrier—a secret romance novel reader. They were a payment of
sorts, for his part in her stupid ploy to get Nick to play the hero
for her. She had to admit, his pepper spray threat had been the
most inspired touch in her otherwise ridiculous plan. He probably
deserved an extra book for that one.

What had she been thinking? She should've
known her ploy was doomed from the instant she perched Shep on her
shoulder and paraded past Nick's window. Just getting him to glance
outside at them had taken four trips.

And now, for some reason, she couldn't get
rid of him.

"I said, what do you want?" Chloe asked
again. "Maybe you've got a textbook on pregnancy for me, or another
earful of clueless, bachelor, non-father wisdom?" Getting angrier
by the minute, she pointed her finger at Nick and backed him into
the porch rail. "What's it going to be, huh? I thought I'd had all
the advice I'd ever need from my mother, but I guess there's always
room for one more opinion."

She folded her arms across her chest,
glaring at him.

He smiled at her.

"Arrgh!"

He laughed, the rat.

Chloe turned her back on him and whistled
for Larry. She had the key in the lock before Nick finally came
clean.

"I brought you this."

She looked over her shoulder. He held out
Curly's scuffed exercise ball, offering it to her with the same
attitude he might have used to lob over a grenade. "You left poor
Curly stranded back at Mrs. Marchen's yard."

When you left in a huff, his grin added.

Chloe reached for it. Her fingers touched
the edge, dug into the grooves, and pulled with no effect at all.
He wouldn't let go.

"I'm not up for another tug of war," she
said, reaching over to pry his fingers loose.

"Are you up for a peace offering? I'll make
you dinner tonight."

Her heart stopped. Dinner at his place was
Nick's standard third-date maneuver with the what'shername's in his
life. Was he actually asking her for a date?

Yes, yes
! her heart shouted.
Say
yes
!

"Tonight?" she asked, feeling
breathless.

Their fingers touched across the exercise
ball. Heat jolted from his to hers, and when Nick gave her a wide,
eyelid-crinkling smile to go with it, Chloe knew she was a
goner.

Maybe she was going about this all wrong.
Maybe running away from Nick was a step in the wrong direction—so
to speak.

"Tonight."

His voice sent a fresh shiver through her.
How had she not noticed before how throaty, how thrilling, how
all-out sexy his voice was?

"It's a date," she said happily, prying his
index finger loose from Curly's ball. He winced. She looked
closer.

"Nick, you're bleeding!"

"It's nothing." He shrugged, flexing his
finger and looking macho. "I guess Curly thought I might taste
good."

So did Chloe, when she arrived at Nick's
place that night. He opened the door against the orange and gold
rays of the setting sun, wearing a pair of slouchy navy shorts, an
open-necked white shirt, and a smile. His hair was still damp—from
a recent shower, she guessed—and it looked as though he'd even
shaved for the occasion.

Very tasty, indeed.

Smiling in appreciation, Chloe edged a
little closer and considered taking a bite. Right at the
intriguingly masculine-looking place where the side of his neck
disappeared beneath the collar of his shirt. Or maybe she'd just
nibble gently on his earlobe, finding the secret spot she now knew
was ticklish.

Instead, she tamped down the impulse and
settled for a simple, "Thanks for the invite."

His grin widened, probably because he'd
caught her ogling him. "Thanks for coming."

She handed over the sparkling apple juice
she'd brought, and froze as soon as the bottle hit Nick's hand. He
looked at it, then at her, with something akin to confusion.

"It's non-alcoholic, if that's what you're
wondering."

"I ... okay." His voice told her he hadn't
been wondering if the apple juice was forty proof. "I'll put this
in the fridge. Dinner's almost ready."

He stepped back to let her in, holding back
the lush foliage of a potted palm—one of his growth-accelerated
beauties, Chloe guessed—so she could pass. She shimmied between the
plant and Nick's chest, wishing his hands would touch her as gently
as they did those shiny leaves ... but then, the plant was part of
his dream. She wasn't.

Chloe ducked beneath an enormous spider
plant in a hanging planter, gazing around her at the well-tended
greenery that filled his living room.
I hate plants
.

The screen door slammed behind her, and the
aromas of tomato sauce, garlic, and roasted peppers wafted from his
kitchen. "Smells good," she said.

"Thanks. If my research came together half
as easily as my
pasta puttanesca
, I'd have had the growth
accelerator finished a month ago." He hefted the tapered bottle of
apple juice. "I'd better go put this in the fridge."

Chloe eyed the wine-shaped bottle. It
practically screamed her hopes that this was going to be A Real
Date. A new
romantic
beginning between them.

Idiot!
she told herself as Nick
disappeared around the corner. The refrigerator opened and shut,
then came the sound of something scraping in a pan to the
accompaniment of Nick's humming.

This was definitely a Non-Date. His confused
glance at the bottle had told her that much. She really had to
start clamping down on that wishful-thinking routine of hers.

Chloe collapsed onto Nick's sturdy tweed
couch beside a pile of clean laundry and buried her face in a
jumble of towels and faded jeans.
See? He hadn't even bothered
to tidy up for her visit
, she thought morosely, hugging the
pile closer. All she wanted was to disappear. Maybe Nick wouldn't
notice if she slunk out the front door and went home?