My Best Friend's Baby (6 page)

There was only one way to find out.

She got dressed and ducked into the bathroom
for one quick look at her destiny before leaving.

The blonde emerged from Saguaro Vista
Cattleman's Bank just as Nick glanced up from his hydroponics
research notes. Her long legs flashed beneath her thigh-high red
business suit as she clicked toward him with the kind of
hip-swaying, high-heeled strides that destroyed brain cells in men
everywhere. Halfway across the city center's
saltillo
-tiled
courtyard, she shrugged out of her matching suit jacket and flipped
it over her shoulder, trailing it by her fingertips over her
back.

Her naked back
. Her pert, perfect
breasts bounced in the sunlight as she strolled through the mist
given off by the tinkling courtyard fountain and came toward him.
Whaaa ... ?
his brain asked, but his body already had the
upper hand.
Come on down
, it said.

He blinked, and the vision in red
transformed itself into Chloe. Fully-clothed,
jacket-wearing
, non-bouncing, just-pals Chloe.

This had to stop. Chloe was his friend, his
best
friend, not a potential between-inventions playmate.
The women he dated weren't like Chloe. She was e.e. cummings; they
were Thoreau. She was mercury; they were iron. Chloe was bare feet
and ring-dings and touch football; they were designer shoes and
haute cuisine
and PTA fundraisers. She was the sizzle; they
were the steak.

And Nick was the overworked inventor who
obviously needed to get out more.

No wonder Chloe's dual-earring nudist
impression had affected him so strongly this morning. The sight of
her standing there with jewels in her hands and nothing but bare,
silky skin below had brought every part of him to attention. It
didn't take a genius to realize he needed a break, and his brain
had obviously been forced to take drastic measures to shove the
message through.

Cool it, he commanded himself. Chloe's your
friend, not your fantasy woman.

His non-fantasy woman stopped in front of
him, grabbed his sleeve, and thunked her forehead onto his
shoulder. "Let's go," she mumbled into his chest.

Nick's other concerns vanished. When Chloe
did the shoulder clunk, it meant she needed him. "Awww, Chloe. What
happened?"

She mumbled something into his T-shirt. He
got as far as, "Effram Griggs is a shirt-tidied, misery grist
beanie outback," before interrupting.

"What was that part about his beanie?"

She beat her fist softly against his
shoulder and made a frustrated sound. "I said," Chloe told him,
turning her head just enough to make her words heard, "that Effram
Griggs is a short-sighted, misogynist weenie-throwback with
delusions of grandeur and cigar stubs for brains."

"He turned down your loan application
again?"

"Again." Miserably, Chloe nodded against his
shoulder, giving him a mouthful of jagged-cut blonde hair.

He blew it away and hugged her one-handed,
careful to keep his notebook wedged between his chest and her ...
curvy parts. Not even three inches of his chicken-scratched notes
could block the alluring tropical scents of her shampoo and
perfume, though. Too bad.

"I thought I'd start to wear him down by
now!" She wriggled against him as though her frustration just had
to have an outlet. "You know, third time's the charm, and all
that?"

"There's always next month," he murmured.
After her second loan attempt, Griggs had refused to consider any
applications she made with less than one month's time between
them.

The arbitrary, power-hungry jerk.

"I can't wait another month!" she
wailed.

"Looks like you don't have much choice."
Nick squeezed her a little closer. "In the meantime, it's my job to
cheer you up. What you need is Kahlúa and coffee and sympathy."

Chloe stiffened in his arms. A sniffle sound
came from somewhere near his collarbone, followed by something that
sounded like, "Kahlúa hurts."

Which didn't make any sense at all. Taking
over Red's pet shop must have meant more to her than she'd let on.
Why else would Chloe reject their time-tested cheer-up remedy?

"Ice cream?" Nick suggested. "A movie? A
racquetball game? You can pretend the ball is Effram Grigg's greasy
gray toupee-wearing head."

Another sniffle, but hard on its heels came
a choked laugh. "Now there's an idea."

"Wait, I take it back," he said with a grin.
"With motivation like that, you'd probably cream me. I wouldn't be
able to hold up my head in public."

Chloe laughed outright at that. "Wouldn't be
the first time, you welsher." She twisted her fingers in his
T-shirt sleeve, then nestled closer and pressed her cheek against
his chest, soaking up comfort as easily as she walloped a
racquetball. "You still owe me a dinner from your last crushing
defeat, remember?"

"I remember. One of these days, I swear I'm
revoking that ‘do-over' rule of yours."

"Bully."

"Cheater."

"Pushover."

Nailed
, Nick admitted. If anyone
could turn him into an easy mark, it was Chloe. "Maybe," he said
aloud, "but Effram Griggs isn't. Running the only bank in town went
straight to his head fifteen years ago, and it's only gotten worse
since."

She sniffled and raised her head, staring
over his shoulder at the Cattleman's Bank. If looks could burn,
hers would've set fire to the building's rustic southwestern
façade—preferably with Griggs still inside. Then she took a step
back and shook her head.

"I guess the good old boy network still
stands tough in Saguaro Vista," she croaked. "And since I'm not a
man or, worse, not one of Griggs's poker buddies," she added,
swiping her hand across her eyes, "it looks like it's back to the
old drawing board."

"Hey ..." Nick thumbed her chin higher and
examined her face. "Are you crying?"

She jerked her head sideways. "Who, me?" she
asked, brushing intently at something on his shoulder—a smudge of
her candy-apple red lipstick, probably. "You know me. I never
cry."

"I know. That's why I—"

"And I'm not now." She frowned up at him,
then slung her purse higher on her shoulder and took a deep breath.
"Look, buying Red's pet shop was just an idea, okay? Nobody knows
about it but you. Nobody knows, nobody's disappointed, and things
go on like before." Her voice cracked. "It's no big deal."

"You're acting like it's a big deal," he
persisted. And Chloe wasn't the type to get worked up over nothing.
She wanted that loan to buy Red's pet shop. It was important to
her—mysteriously important, given her hedging and hawing yesterday
over keeping her loan appointment—and Nick wanted to know the
reason why. There was definitely more going on here than met the
eye.

"It doesn't add up," he went on, looking
closely at her. "What's special about getting this loan, this time?
About getting it now?"

"Please don't ask me that, Nick."

"Chloe—"

She said nothing, just closed her eyes. When
she opened them again, her slanted hazel-eyed gaze looked bright
with determination.

"It's just time I started acting like the
responsible adult I am, that's all." She swiveled on a burst of new
energy, making her high heels click against the tiled courtyard. "I
do a good job running Red's pet store and I'd be an equally good
pet store owner. I'm not going to let Effram Griggs and his old
cronies stand in my way. I'll find a way to convince him yet."

"There's always a Phoenix bank."

"No."

"Or an assumable loan. Talk to Red and
Jerry. What have you got to lose?"

"It's not what I have to lose," Chloe said.
"It's what
they
have to lose. I'm not telling them until
everything's all set."

On tiptoes, she stuck her face in his. "And
you're keeping mum, too, mister," she warned. "Not a word about
this to anyone, okay?"

Nick held up two fingers. "Scout's
honor."

She gave him a sassy grin and looked him up
and down. "You're no boy scout, Steadman."

Not with the kind of thoughts he'd been
having about her lately, he wasn't
. And Chloe was no damned
campfire girl, either—not with the secrets she'd been keeping.

And he still wanted to know what they
were.

"I still know how to light a fire." He
grinned. "It's all in the way you lay the kindling."

She quirked her lips. "Save it for your
breathless admirers, Smokey. I've got things to do."

Yeah—mysterious things.

Turning, she headed for the parking area
with a little less sizzle in her stride and a lot more secrets than
he'd suspected whirling in that crazy blonde head of hers.
Suddenly, Chloe seemed something Nick had never imagined she could
be—a woman of mystery.

He put his hand on her shoulder from behind,
slowing her down to his speed. Beneath her smooth silk
business-suit armor, her neck and shoulder muscles tensed like
knotted steel. This particular loan denial had been especially hard
for Chloe to take. He wanted to know why.

Hell, as her friend, it was practically his
duty to find out why.

"Wait up," he said.

He tucked his notebook beneath his elbow and
kneaded her shoulders with both hands, hoping to coax out some of
the tension and all of the truth. Her secret was getting bigger,
and it was driving him crazy.

"I was serious back there," he said. "You've
tried for this loan three times now, and struck out every
time—"

"Thanks, Mr. Encouragement."

"You're welcome. Anyway, three strikes now,
and you've never been this upset before. What's so special about
this time?"

"You don't want to come with me, Nick?" They
reached his motorcycle and Chloe whirled to face him. "Is that what
this is all about? You've got better things to do, I'll bet. Like
work yourself to death, maybe, or—"

"Hold on—"

She flashed him a belligerent look. "You
know it's true. Admit it."

"Like hell, I will!" She sounded just like
the rest of his family—every one of them proponents of shorter
workdays, less ambition, and family, family, family, regardless of
the cost.

She jutted her chin forward. "Have it your
way. Live in denial. Live alone! It's none of my business."

"Aww, Chloe. Not you, too."

She shrugged. "I'm your friend, not your ...
whatever." Her voice cracked. "You don't owe me anything. Not even
an explanation for why you don't want to bring me down to the bank
anymore."

"Wait a minute. I never said I wouldn't
bring you down to the bank anymore."
Chick logic
. He'd never
understand it. "Where did that come from?"

Her eyes welled up with—he'd swear
it—honest-to-God tears. That's how Nick knew it was a trick. Chloe
never cried, especially not at advantageous moments like this one.
But he still felt like hell anyway.

"Aww, come on. Just because I don't want to
turn into Joe Family Man like every other Steadman doesn't mean I
won't help you out when you need it."

"I don't need it."

"Fine."

"Fine." She sniffed and held out her arms
for her helmet.

Nick handed her the purple metallic one she
used, feeling vaguely as though he'd been outmaneuvered. He
couldn't pinpoint why ... until he remembered what they'd been
talking about before.

"Anyway, what's so important about
this
one particular loan application
?"

She stopped midway through putting on her
helmet. With trembling hands, she slowly pulled it the rest of the
way over her head. Buying time to think up another sidetracking
tactic, he'd bet.
What was her secret
?

When her face came into view again, she was
grinning.

"Like a dog with a bone, aren't you?"

"Ruff."

"Ha, ha." Chloe hitched up her skirt and
straddled his motorcycle, something he'd probably seen her do a
million times—but never to this effect. Suddenly the early-April
sunshine took on a searing, dizzying quality.

"Am I driving, or you?" she asked, blinking
up at him just as calmly as though most of her thighs weren't bared
for the whole wide world to see. Didn't she realize what a sight
like that could do to a guy who
wasn't
her best platonic
male friend?

"I'm driving," Nick gritted out.

"Okay." Chloe unbuttoned her suit jacket and
shrugged it off her shoulders. For real this time. Her bare skin
gleamed in the reflected glare from his bike's hot chrome.

Her bare skin.

Nick thought he might pass out.

Then she tugged off her jacket the rest of
the way, revealing the skintight, nude-toned top she had on beneath
it. His breath left him in a whoosh.

Think science thoughts
, he commanded
himself. Chloe smiled up at him, just as though she'd guessed what
he'd been thinking before ... and wanted him to know she
approved.

No, that was nuts. She'd probably be
appalled, Nick told himself as he watched her slide innocently from
the back of his bike and wait for him to get on. He had to quit
thinking of her this way.

"Look, you're being irrational." He hoped it
wasn't contagious. Trying to look serious, he tucked his chin into
his shoulder so he could glimpse her behind him. "What's the big
deal with your loan, all of a sudden?
What's going on
?"

Her arms sagged around his middle, then
tightened. She sighed. He waited a second, then realized Chloe
still wasn't going to tell him.

Damn. Foiled again.

"Well," she finally said. "As of this
morning, I'm pretty sure I'm pregnant. Do you think that's it?"

Chapter Four

"Pregnant?"

"You can stop saying that now, Nick." Chloe
whipped off her helmet and shoved it toward him. "I'm pretty sure I
understood the first twenty-two times you said it on the way
home."