My Best Friend's Baby (5 page)

Bleary-eyed and yawning, she stared at the
pregnancy test instructions in her hand, then blinked beneath the
glaring seven a.m. lighting in her bathroom and read them again.
Yup, it really did say she was supposed to pee on a stick.
Gross.

She picked up the package. There, atop
several lines of fine print medicalese, blazed the words that had
lured her to this particular test. Ninety-nine percent sure. If it
took bathroom acrobatics to come up with results like that, she
guessed she'd better give it a whirl.

It took less time than she expected, more
dexterity than she hoped, and miles more steadiness than her shaky
hands could muster. Her stomach pitched as she set the tester on
the vanity and turned her tomato-shaped kitchen timer to the
three-minute mark.

Tick, tick, tick. The first minute passed
about as quickly as hot weather in Arizona. Chloe paced across her
black-and-white checkerboard-tiled floor, swiping microscopic dirt
from the vanity and trying not to look at herself in the
mirror.

Dumb. That's what she was, for not thinking
of this possibility beforehand. When Nick found out ...

He wasn't going to find out. She couldn't
tell him about this.

She
had
to tell him about this, she
argued with herself. She hadn't been with anyone else for more
months than she cared to count. Her period was already two weeks
late. Despite their fumbling, post-Kahlúa precautions, Nick might
be a father in the making. He had a right to know, didn't he?

I'm lucky as hell not to have kids yet. I
swear I'd never get anything done.

Oh, yeah. Nick didn't want kids. He'd told
her that before. He wasn't ready for a family now, at least not
until he'd gotten the inventing bug out of his system and gotten
established in his career ... and turned serious about settling
down.

Ha! As if that would happen anytime
soon.

But part of him already wanted to settle
down, Chloe told herself as she straightened the already-neat
bathmat and fluffed out the shower curtain. The wistful expression
on Nick's face when he'd looked out the window at Danny yesterday
had been proof enough of that.

With my schedule, spending weekends with my
nieces and nephews is about as close as I'll ever get to having a
family of my own.

Then again, he seemed pretty resigned to
waiting for it.

Shoot.

And what about the little white lie she'd
told him? Nick didn't even remember their night together. What if
he never forgave her for lying to him about it in the first
place?

What if he didn't believe her at all? She'd
lose her best friend. End of story.
Finito
.

Aaack. The whole thing was too muddled to
deal with. With a helpless groan, Chloe flipped down the toilet
seat and sat on it. Chin in hand, she stared at the pregnancy test.
It grew bigger in her imagination, pulsing on the vanity like an
atomic experiment from one of Nick's Godzilla movies.

She was losing it.

Get a grip
, she commanded herself.
Then her front door swooshed open, Nick's voice called to her from
the living room, and Chloe nearly jumped out of her skin. The
pregnancy test box clunked hollowly to the linoleum, punctuating
the sound of the other shoe dropping into her life. Could she face
Nick and still not tell him the truth?

She'd have to.

And, if necessary, she could always tell him
the truth later.
If
the test was positive. No point worrying
him for no reason, right?

"Chloe?"

His voice got louder, echoing down the
hallway. Coming closer. She leaped out of the bathroom and slammed
the door shut behind her, just in time to collide with Nick.

"Ooof!"

"Hi!" she said with an overly-chipper smile,
taking in his rumpled khaki shorts and Cardinals T-shirt with an
appreciative glance born of knowing exactly what kind of fine-tuned
body he kept beneath them. "You surprised me."

"Your front door was open." He stepped
backward, straightened his glasses, and gave her a quick once-over.
"Oversleep again? Come on, Chloe. You're never going to convince
that old coot Griggs to give you your loan if you can't even make
it to your appointment on time. You know that. You—"

His gaze stopped on her purple-dotted
boxers. "—You, you, you've been in business long en ... ." He
stopped. "Do you always sleep in those?"

His eyebrows furrowed beneath his glasses
rims. His fingertip raised to his lips, tapping in the way that
always showed he was deep in thought about an experiment, or a new
invention ... or the night he thought they'd never spent
together.

Chloe slapped her hands over her boxers and
neon green T-shirt like an old-maid aunt. "These?" she cried,
trying to look horrified at being caught undressed. "Just got ‘em
yesterday. Big sale down at Bevick's department store. You know,
the one down on Main Street with the, um, wedding dresses in the
window and the cute little slingback crocodile shoes with the bows
on the toes?"

Her monologue ran out of breath and she ran
out of lies, but that was okay—Nick's eyes had already glazed over
at the mention of shopping. Thank God he never paid attention to
everyday details like clothes.

"I'd better go change," she muttered, and
made her escape.

At her entrance into her bedroom, Moe meowed
and then tried slipping through the opened door. It gave her an
idea. She scooped him up, grazed her chin across his soft furred
head, then leaned into the hallway.

"Moe's really missed you." Rapidly, she
slipped her armful of orange tabby into his hands before he could
object. "He hates it when you work so much. We can't wait until
your growth-accelerator proposal is done."

That ought to hold him for a while
,
Chloe decided as she snicked the door shut again, trying not to
hear Nick's grumbling on the other side. It was beyond her why he
didn't want pets of his own—all of hers obviously loved him.

Maybe he'd like something simple. Something
small. A hamster like Curly, or a goldfish, or ... no. The poor
thing would probably keel over from neglect the next time Nick's
inventing bug struck. A commitment-phobe like him was strictly the
faux
pet type. Maybe this Christmas she'd buy him one of
those videotapes that made it look like your television housed a
whole aquarium full of exotic fish. That was just about Nick's
speed.

No commitment. No obligations.

No risk.

No change in plans.

Sighing, Chloe made herself quit mentally
matchmaking Nick. She had an appointment to get ready for, and it
didn't involve the wild kingdom—not unless Effram Griggs' toupee
counted as a life form of its own. Whipping off her T-shirt, she
whirled to fling it into the hamper, then slid open her mirrored
closet doors.

Moe yowled outside and her bedroom door
opened. Nick's head emerged around the edge of it. "Something's
buzzing in your bathroom. Are you cooking up another batch of punk
rock haircolor, or what?"

Chloe flung her arms across her naked chest.
He didn't even blink. She might as well have waved her arms in the
air and tap-danced, for as much attention as he paid to her
appearance. Keeping her arms tight over her chest, she slowly
turned to face him. His expression didn't change one iota.

Not even half an iota.

Her body felt as heated as a toaster glowing
red, just before it turned the toast to a slab of coal. That would
be her heart if she wasn't careful. Ruined and crumbly.

"Fun-ny," she said. "It was only that one
time I tried those red stripes, and that was years ago. Now I'm
sticking with my natural hair color."

Nick looked at her expensively-streaked
layered cut. "Uh-huh. That's you, nature girl," he deadpanned. "Do
you want me to turn off the timer for you?"

He was utterly, completely, oblivious, Chloe
realized with a sinking feeling. Even half-naked she couldn't
dredge up any non-platonic interest from him.

Any child they might have created together
deserved more than a lovestruck mama and an indifferent daddy.
She'd already been around that block—wearing the kid's diapers
herself. She couldn't let history repeat itself.

Knowing Nick, he'd feel obligated to ‘do the
right thing,' no matter what his feelings were for her. She really
couldn't
tell him the truth.

"The timer?" he asked again.

"Timer?" She fought the urge to drop her
arms and flash him, just to get some sort of reaction. "Oh! The
timer! No, thanks. It'll turn off by itself in a minute."

He shrugged. "Okay. You'd better hurry up,
or Mr. Griggs will reschedule you again. I don't know why you don't
just go to one of the bigger banks in Phoenix or—"

"I'll be ready," Chloe interrupted, hoping
to forestall the inevitable, familiar avalanche of financial
advice. Turning, she concentrated on pulling one of the few suits
she owned from her closet without giving Nick a thirty-four B-sized
eyeful in the process.

"—or Tucson for your loan." His gaze flicked
over the red suit and matching pumps she threw on the bed, then he
crossed his arms and added, "You know, Red and Jerry would probably
let you make payments directly to them for a while if that's what
it takes. I'll bet—"

"No favors." She added a halter-cut,
pale-colored bodysuit to the pile. Arizona in April demanded the
coolest clothes possible.

"Chloe—"

"And no help, either." She turned her back
to Nick while she sorted through the beads and bangles and
multi-hued earrings jumbled together in her jewelry box. "I can do
this on my own. There's no point involving Red and Jerry before I
know I've got the bank behind me. I don't want to get their hopes
up—"

"—And then disappoint them," Nick finished.
"I know, I know."

Holding a gold hoop to one ear and a
faux
ruby-and-pearl stud to the other, Chloe turned. "Which
do you think looks best?"

His mouth dropped open.

Wowsers, that was some kind of reaction to a
pair of earrings.
Note to myself: ask Nick for jewelry opinions
more often
.

Wait a minute ... his gaze was a whole lot
lower than her ears. In fact, now that she looked closer, she
realized he wasn't even in the above-the-neck neighborhood. His
dark-eyed gaze was aimed lower than that, closer to her ...
omigod, her
naked
breasts
! Shrieking, Chloe hugged
her arms over her chest, barely registering the cold kiss of the
earrings still in her hands.

Nick whipped sideways, hiding his face by
propping his arm on the door jamb. "Uh, they both look great to
me."

Both what? Both breasts or both
earrings?

Scratch that—she probably didn't really want
to know the answer to that one.

"I meant the earrings," Nick added.

"I figured."

Sheesh! What had she been thinking? This
pregnancy thing was turning her mind to mush. Her face burning,
Chloe threw the earrings in her jewelry box and slammed the lid
shut, then snatched up her suit and clutched it, hanger and all, in
front of her.

"But, uh, that's really a nice pair of umm,
umm ..." His arm churned, trying to crank something smart to his
brain. "I mean, the rest of you is really—dammit, Chloe! Put some
clothes on, will you?"

"You're blushing, Nick."

"Like hell."

"Your face is redder than my suit."

"Nothing's redder than that suit."

He ducked his head and chanced a look from
beneath his elbow. She could almost pinpoint the exact moment he
realized she'd safely covered her ‘nice pair' from view, because
his grin returned.

"But you might get faster action on your
loan if you tried the earring trick on Mr. Griggs."

"Har, har."

He came closer. She must have imagined that
blush on his face, because now Nick looked as composed as ever. Not
to mention as miserably unaffected by her—as a woman—as he ever
had.

"Anyway," she continued with a teasing
smile, "I already tried that."

"And?"

"And the man has no taste when it comes to
earrings. He actually picked a rhinestone pair."

She laughed at the look on his face, then
met him halfway around the side of the bed, tucking her chin into
her chest to secure the suit and hanger while she moved. "I'm
kidding, you Neanderthal! What kind of woman do you think I
am?"

"I think you're a big old softie," Nick
said, "worrying over Red and Jerry like you do."

He reached to help her hold up the curved
metal hanger top, and his knuckle brushed warm against her chin. At
the feel of his skin touching hers, Chloe's knees went weak. The
hanger wobbled in her hand, making her suit flutter in front of
her.

"I think you're going to get that loan of
yours, or die trying," Nick went on. "And I think—" He smiled and
touched one shoulder-pad-bolstered edge of her suit jacket.
"—you're going to be late if you don't hurry up and shimmy into
this thing."

"Shimmy?"

He headed for the door, tapping a beat along
the footboard of her sleigh bed.

"You think I ‘shimmy'?"

Nick shrugged and stepped into the
hallway.

He thought she shimmied!

Officially, of course, she was incredibly
offended. But—he thought she shimmied! Chloe grinned, just as Nick
stuck his head around the doorjamb again.

"And one more thing," he said.

She put on a straight face.

"If things don't work out with the bank
today, you can always count on me."

"I can't ask you for help, Nick."

"Sure, you can. The rest of us deserve a
chance to play hero sometimes, too, you know."

Sure. Chloe sighed and sank onto her bed as
he closed the door, leaving her alone. Would Nick really see
instant unplanned fatherhood as an opportunity to be heroic? Or
were those just so many words, words that were easy to say but hard
to live up to?