My Best Friend's Baby (12 page)

"It takes a really long time," he
murmured.

"The conversation?"

He shook his head, smiling for the first
time since he'd tangoed her backwards. "No, the movie. At the end,
of course, the climax comes quickly—" He traced a path over her
shoulder, then slipped his thumb just inside the neckline of her
shirt. "—but the rest of it moves pretty slowly."

She was sinking, sinking in this world
turned tilted and hot, and amazingly, Nick was her only anchor. The
warm pad of his thumb stroked along the side of her neck, sending
shivers trembling from her collarbone to her heels. Talk of
climaxes and moving slowly was only that—talk—but his touch spoke
of more. Much more.

And she wanted it all.

Chloe's hands went to his chest, smoothing
imaginary wrinkles out of his shirt as an excuse to touch him.
Wrinkles—as if anything of Nick's would've dared misbehave. Letting
her hands fall to her sides again, she felt an answering smile lift
her lips. "But that can be a good thing, sometimes," she said.

He raised his eyebrows.

"Moving slowly, I mean."

His smile was wicked, and so was the forward
nudge of his hips against hers. The hard, slow impact of his hips
felt too wonderful for words. The hard, heated meld of their bodies
made everything else slide away. Her heartbeat pulsed faster,
keeping time with the rhythm of his breathing.

"Mmmm, moving slowly ... ." He trailed his
fingers down her shirt buttons, pretending to consider the idea.
"You mean, in a conversation?"

She shook her head. Her third and fourth
buttons bumped beneath his fingertips as he made his way downward,
edging between her breasts and lower.

"In a movie, then."

His voice teased her, taunted her ...
reminded her of the closeness their banter implied. Chloe bit her
lip, holding in the answer he waited for.

"Hmmm. Won't talk?" Nick's smile flashed in
the night. "Then I'll just have to guess how this slow-moving thing
comes into play for you," he said, fingering the next button. The
next. His fingers slipped between the buttons to caress her bare
skin beneath, then quickly slipped out and continued to the next
button. The last one. "Maybe you like it when ... everything moves
really slowly?"

"No," she whispered as his hand followed the
curve of her hip, then captured her wrist. He laced their fingers
together and pushed her hand beneath his against the glass behind
them. The rest of her answer emerged on a gasp. "No, I—I like that
in a man."

"Mmmm." His fingertips tickled her wrist. "I
thought so."

Quit talking
, Chloe thought.
Just
shut up and kiss me
. But instead Nick only raised his head,
focused his gaze on her, and for one long, breath-stealing moment,
she thought he'd changed his mind. He studied her, seeing her in a
way she thought he might never have before.

As a lover.

He drew in a deep breath and released her
hand. Only his hips touched hers as, casually, he raised the
plastic ice cream bowl he still held in his palm and examined
it.

"You want a slow-moving man?" he asked.

She licked her lips and sucked in a breath
for courage. "I—"
I want you
.

She couldn't say it aloud. Apparently, the
atmosphere in Saguaro Vista didn't have the magical
bravery-enhancing properties she needed. Maybe Nick could invent a
solution to that.

"Yes," she whispered instead, trembling so
hard the words emerged on a shiver. "I ... I want that."

"Too bad," Nick said. "Because I'm not
moving slowly anymore."

The ice cream bowl tumbled to the patio
tiles. The spoon spun away, whirling silver like a child's top set
into motion. Both his hands came up to cradle her face in his
palms, to raise her gaze to his. Once there, she couldn't look
away.

"This time," he said, "
I'm
taking
."

His mouth came down hard over hers. And just
as he'd promised, just as he'd warned, Nick took everything. Her
thoughts. Her fears. Every ounce of caution.

Her heart.

His hands delved into her hair, his
fingertips rubbing soft against her scalp to hold her still for his
kiss. Moaning, he captured her mouth again and again, now licking
her lips with tiny, fiery strokes of his tongue, now sucking and
retreating and making her crazy with the slanted pressure of his
mouth on hers. Chloe kissed him back with all the love she'd kept
hidden, twining her arms around his neck, burying her fingers in
his hair, pressing hard against him.

Her breasts crushed against the solid warmth
of his chest. Her legs wobbled, and she blessed the patio door that
held her upright. The muted sounds of wind and burring cicadas and
neighbors talking in the distance receded even further, pushed far
beyond the spill of light where she and Nick came together. Between
kisses, smiles burst between them like raindrops on a summer
lake.

Half insane with wanting him, Chloe squeezed
Nick's shoulders and burrowed closer. She couldn't get close
enough, couldn't kiss him enough, couldn't do enough to show him
how much she wanted this.
Wanted him
. Laughing aloud, she
hugged him close, pressing fervent fast kisses on his neck ... made
him laugh, too, when she nibbled the ticklish spot on his earlobe.
She climbed him like a kitten with a new toy, tasted him like a
gourmet with a delicious new dish. A connoisseur of men, who'd
found the one she'd always craved.

Groaning, Nick brought both hands to her
waist. "Chloe, Chloe, you're killing me. Ahhh—" Grinning, he
wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off her feet. "But what
a way to go."

She laughed, then whooped louder when he
swung her around. Within the darker shadows at the patio's edge, he
backed into the heavy wrought iron patio table and sat on it,
settling her onto his lap with her knees pulled up around his hips.
The table's warm woven metal surface pushed basket-weave dimples
into her bare shins, but Chloe didn't care. She had Nick's lap to
ease the pressure.

Or maybe to build it
, she thought as
she jiggled in his arms and settled more comfortably atop him.
Thank God she was wearing silky shorts instead of a skirt.

Although a skirt suggested delicious
possibilities, too.

"Yeah, what a way to go," she told him,
keeping both hands on his shoulders for balance as she kissed him.
"I can tell you're really hating this kissing stuff. Or maybe that
really
is
a banana in your pocket?"

He laughed, and the sound made her heart
soar like a kid's helium balloon zooming skyward. "Nah, that's no
banana," he said, "and these—" His hands cupped her breasts,
thumbing her nipples through her smooth silk shirt. "—these
are—"

Chloe clapped her hand over his mouth. "Are
not a subject for discussion, mister. Is that all you can think to
do with me? Talk?"

He shook his head. "Mmmmph."

Nick's eyes glinted turquoise at her through
the lenses of his glasses.
Foggy lenses
, she noticed,
leaning a little closer. Wowsers. Had she done that?

She removed her hand.

Nick didn't remove his. They stayed curved
over her breasts, making conversation as difficult as breathing
was—considering the way he touched her. Through her silk shirt, she
felt her nipples nudge his palms. He looked at his hands covering
her, then stroked his thumbs slowly over her again. Her nipples
peaked even harder beneath the heat in his gaze.

"These," he finished, squeezing gently,
"feel like heaven wrapped in silk."

Why in the world had she tried to stop him
from saying something like that? "You big faker," Chloe managed to
whisper. "I thought you were going to say something else."

He kissed her, rubbed his lips softly over
hers and then kissed her again. Smiling, Nick looked into her
eyes.

She quivered. Surely he could see all the
hope and love and ...
oh, God, but not the secrets
...
reflected in her gaze. Chloe closed her eyes and squeezed him
close.

"Trust me," he said, slipping his fingers
around her top shirt button. "And don't be afraid, Chloe. We can
take it as slow as you want." He used his thumb to push her button
through the buttonhole, then stroked the skin he'd revealed. "As
slow as you want."

She gasped, open-mouthed as his lips came on
hers again in a kiss hungry enough to rock them both backward. The
table beneath them rocked, too, not that either of them
cared."Awww, Nick. I've waited forever already," Chloe whispered,
clinging to his shoulders. "Don't make me wait anymore.
Please."

His hands told her he wouldn't.
This time
I'm taking
. Again she heard that abandoned bowl spinning on the
tiles, remembered the feel of Nick pulling her close for that
first, heart-shattering kiss. Giddy anticipation tightened her
stomach, making her feel light-headed and tremblingly, achingly,
ready for whatever came next.

Biting her lip, Chloe watched, transfixed,
as he unfastened her next button, then slipped his fingers inside
the gap he'd made. His knuckles brushed over her newly-impressive,
hormonally boosted cleavage—
thank you, pregnancy
!—and her
whole body tingled at his touch.

"Beautiful," Nick murmured.

"Thanks. They're all-natural, too," she
babbled, temporarily undone by the incredible, impossible feel of
his hands on her. No wonder she hadn't been able to forget the
night he thought they'd never spent together. Between his magical
hands and that killer smile ...

Waitaminute ... that smile meant
something.

"All-natural?" he asked.

Yup, that smile definitely meant something.
It meant she'd blurted out a stupid something. Whoops. Well, what
could you expect from a love-starved woman, finally in the arms of
the man she loved after months and months and months of
waiting?

"Sounds like a granola commercial," Nick
added on a grin.

She felt a blush heat her face—and probably
the rest of her, too. "Tastes great, too."

He grinned wider. "That's a beer
commercial."

"Whatever. You can sample the merchandise
later and decide for yourself." Chloe ground her hips against him
for diversion's sake, then almost wished she hadn't. The man
definitely had a banana in his pocket, and she wasn't sure how long
she could wait to get reacquainted. "Just as long as
this
isn't less filling."

"Youch!" Nick clutched his heart, laughing.
"You really know how to hurt a guy."

Nah
, she thought, kissing him to
soften her teasing.
But he really knew how to hurt a girl
.
How long would it be before Nick came to his senses and realized
the two of them were thisclose to passing the just-friends barrier
forever?

She'd think about that later. Chloe couldn't
end what was happening between them now, no matter how bittersweet
her memories were of their night together. She didn't have the
strength. Not now, and maybe not ever. Not when Nick was only
beginning to see her as a woman.

A woman, she hoped, he might love.

"But I didn't mean just these—" He cupped
her breasts again, and she swayed against him. "—beautiful as they
are."

His eyes twinkled at her, filled with humor
and affection and—oh, God, was that passion? She really, really
hoped it was passion.

He kept talking, looking somber and
Nick-serious even as he stroked her through her silky shirt. "I
meant the whole package," he finished. "All of you. Inside.
Outside. Everything." Nick stroked her cheek, and she felt his
thumb tremble against her skin. "You're beautiful, Chloe."

Oh, she was done for. Finished. If he hadn't
been holding her up, she might have keeled over right there on the
patio table. Melted in his arms like the hot wax from the candles
and oozed straight through the basket-weave wrought iron. No one
had ever said anything so wonderful to her before. It felt so alien
she couldn't stand it.

"It must be the pregnancy thing," she told
him for an excuse. "You know, the way pregnant women are supposed
to be all glowing and radiant and—"

"It's you." He kissed her. "Shut up and just
believe it."

He went on unbuttoning her shirt, and fairly
quickly, Chloe found herself believing it. Believing him. He really
did want her. The proof was there in the tenderness of his touch,
in the huskiness of his voice, in the warm, hard strength of his
body beneath her.

"It's you," Nick said again. "Just you. And
I've been an idiot not to realize it sooner."

Yes!
Yes, yes, yes
. Well, not yes,
Nick was an idiot, but yes—oh, how she wished he'd taken a closer
look at her sooner. Maybe he would have, if he'd ever been between
what'shernames long enough. Or if she'd ever had the guts to make a
move without Kahlúa courage and comfort-giving for an excuse.

She'd never know what it might have taken to
bring them together. And right now—with her whole body pasted to
Nick's and his fingers making magic—Chloe didn't much care to
ponder the question.

She nuzzled his neck and kissed him again,
happy and wanting and filled to bursting with love, and desperately
needing to transmit every jumbled emotion through her kiss.
I
love you
, she thought.
Love you, love you ...

Beneath her busy hands, Nick's body stilled.
She felt his hands, motionless at the front clasp of her bra. She
felt his breathing, harsh-sounding but gentle as a kiss against her
collarbone. She felt him withdraw from her, lean back a little and
spread the two halves of her unbuttoned shirt wide in his
hands.

His forehead crinkled. Dread crept into her
heart and set up shop. What was he waiting for?

Releasing one half of her shirt, Nick
reached behind him and grabbed one of the citronella candles from
the tabletop. Chloe couldn't move as he held its flickering light
to her chest and looked closer. If he could've had another hand
free to tap his lips in his patented thoughtful pose, she felt
sickeningly sure he would have.