Officer in Pursuit (39 page)

“Hi.”

His single-syllable reply
sent a strange little bolt of
something
arrowing through her,
making her stomach churn a little faster as she looked
up.

“Sam.” The word jumped to the tip of
her tongue, a false question, because she just couldn’t wrap her
mind around the man standing in front of her – she’d had enough
shock for one day already.

Sam was short for Samuel.
Duh. Still, she’d had no reason to suspect that the “Samuel
Mackenzie” in the
From:
field of her inbox had been the full name of a
Sam she’d met before. There were a million people named Sam,
probably hundreds, at least, in Pittsburgh alone…

“Yeah. It’s nice to see you again.” He
stood there, six feet of sculpted muscle in a plain white t-shirt
and jeans, and extended a hand.

Abby’s own hand felt as heavy as a
cinderblock at her side. She let it hang there uselessly, resisting
the urge to hug her still-flat midsection as she studied the
promise of a six pack that showed through his thin cotton
shirt.

He kept his hand there, steady in
mid-air, as he stared at her – thinking what crap she looked like,
probably. There was no way the clear lighting inside Hot Ink was
half as flattering as the flaw-shrouding dimness of the bar she’d
first met him in, or the near-dark of his bedroom at
midnight…

He
, however, didn’t look like crap – not even a little bit. He
looked every bit as amazing as she remembered – a fact which sent
her heart sinking further toward the floor, even as it skipped a
beat.

Those eyes … they were ice-blue, but
somehow not cold, especially when he looked directly at her. And
she’d recognize his hair anywhere – it was a dark, rusty shade of
red, rich and striking, even though he wore it so short that the
strong curve of his skull could easily be made out beneath. The
unusual tattoo peeking out from beneath the edge of one of his
short sleeves was the finishing touch; it hadn’t been that long
since she’d traced its dark lines with her fingertips, and then her
mouth…

“Are you all right?” he asked, his
lips turning down the tiniest bit at the corners.

“I think I’m going to throw up.”
Turning on her heel, she fled down the aisle, clutching her stomach
with one arm as she threw the other out in front of herself,
reaching for the bathroom door at the back of the shop, just beside
Jed’s office and storage area.

She slammed the door shut just in
time, collapsing onto suddenly-weak knees as nausea overwhelmed
her.

It wasn’t pretty, and even worse was
the thought that everyone out in the main area of the shop could
probably hear her. She was that loud – her hitching, half-choking
breaths were loudest of all – and it was early in the work day; the
shop was quiet. Zoe hadn’t even turned on the radio yet.

A hot tear crept from the
corner of one of Abby’s eyes and fell into the depths of the
toilet. She stood, scrubbed her eyes with the back of one hand and
splashed her face with cold water after hastily flushing. No way
was she going to walk back out there looking like she’d been
puking
and
crying.

Taking a few moments to compose her
cooling face, she stared at the solid wall before her, regretting
that there was no window. If there had been, she could’ve escaped
through it and hurried home. After all, her stomach was still flat
– for now – and her petite frame would allow her to squeeze through
even a modestly-sized window. Instead, she had no choice but to
make an appearance in front of everyone again.

At least Jed, the shop owner, wasn’t
there. It was a consolation – albeit a tiny one – to know that her
boss hadn’t witnessed her humiliation. Holding onto that thought,
she exited the bathroom.

Two steps later, she nearly collided
with Zoe.

“Hey, are you okay?” Zoe stood
squarely in the aisle outside the bathroom, shielding Abby from the
others’ view. “Are you sick? If you are, I’m sure Jed would tell
you to head home if he was here.”

Abby shook her head. “Not sick … just
not feeling well.”

Zoe arched an ebony brow that matched
her dark chin-length hair. “Okay … well, you know you need to get
some rest, right?”

Abby shrugged, her shoulders
trembling. Why had she wanted to escape her apartment so badly –
why had she thought a day at work would help her orient herself?
She craved the privacy of her apartment now, ached to be alone. “My
client. I can’t tattoo him. Not like this. It wouldn’t be
right.”

Zoe nodded. “I know. Come on, I can
drive you home if you need me to.”

“That’s all right. I can drive.” She
could do anything if it meant escaping Hot Ink and the captive
audience inside.

When Zoe stepped aside and escorted
Abby down the aisle like some kind of invalid, Sam was still there,
standing right where Abby had abandoned him.

Heat flooded her cheeks, but she
refused to let her chin drop. “I’m sorry,” she said when she
reached him, “but I can’t go through with our appointment today. I
just can’t do my best work like this.”

He nodded, his face unreadable. She
dared to meet his eyes, but there wasn’t a trace of surprise – or
anything else, really – visible in them.

Had he worn such a mask the first time
she’d met him?

No, she vividly remembered a spark of
lust in those same eyes, obvious excitement… It was no wonder he
wasn’t feeling those things now.

“Should we reschedule now?” Zoe called
from behind the counter, already poised at the computer there,
ready to enter a fresh appointment into the system.

“Okay,” Abby said, her empty stomach
sinking.

Zoe probably thought Abby had eaten
some bad take-out, or contracted a twenty-four hour virus. She had
no way of knowing that Abby couldn’t stomach the thought of
tattooing Sam, now or ever, because how could she possibly devote
all her concentration to tattooing him when his baby was growing
inside her?

“I know you have a crazy work
schedule…” She forced herself to meet his eyes.

“Well, Sam,” Zoe said, “if you just
let me know when you’re available, I can compare those times to
Abby’s schedule, and I’m sure we can find something that works.”
She smiled from behind the counter. “Abby, why don’t you head home
and get some rest? I can handle this.”

Abby nodded, but her feet didn’t want
to move. The weight of the tiny life anchored in her belly was
imperceptible at only two months, but it held her there anyway,
locking her knee joints and stiffening her muscles. Could she
really just walk away from Sam without another word? On the other
hand … what could she possibly say, here and now?

Definitely not, “Hey Sam, nice to see
you again. I peed on a stick less than an hour ago, and guess what?
I’m pregnant and you’re the father! I bet you’re glad you chose Hot
Ink for your next tattoo, huh?”

Ugh. She felt half-ready to vomit
again at just the thought of such a declaration. Somehow, she had
to think of a tactful way to spring the news on him, and not in
front of her co-workers.

“You don’t have to hang around for my
sake.” Sam’s deep voice shattered her half-frantic thoughts. “I can
see that you’re sick and need rest.”

Should she be touched by his concern,
or depressed by the fact that she obviously looked as bad as she
felt? Unsure, she took one wobbly step forward. “I…”

Her stupid shoe slid against the tile
floor and she pitched forward gracelessly, catching herself, but
not before Sam closed one large hand around the top of her arm.
Cheeks flaming, she straightened her spine, doing her best to stand
tall as he supported her unnecessarily with an iron
grip.

“You don’t have the flu, do you?” He
raised one dark red brow. “That can be serious, especially if you
can’t keep any fluids down. Co-worker of mine had to be
hospitalized with it just last week.”

She shook her head, her messy ponytail
swinging as she hoped to God that Sam wasn’t recalling the
splashing sounds of her stomach’s contents being emptied into the
toilet. “It’s not the flu. Besides, I’ve been vaccinated, so…”
Suddenly, she was short of breath in that about-to-puke way. “I’ve
gotta get home.”

“Need a ride?”

She shook her head and managed to
wriggle her arm out of his grip.

“I already offered,” Zoe said,
stepping out from behind the counter.

Every set of eyes in the shop was
trained on Abby, and she’d had enough. “I’m driving home. Alone.”
No way was she going to risk throwing up in front of everyone
again. If she had to pull over on the side of the street to do so
instead, or sprint up the stairs to her apartment, so be
it.

“I’ll walk you to your car, at least,”
Sam said.

“I can do that.” As young and slender
as she was, Zoe looked almost mother bear-like as she advanced on
Sam, stepping between him and Abby.

Abby bit back a sigh and a curse.
Clearly, Zoe thought Sam was a stranger … which he very nearly was.
“Zoe, it’s all right. Sam and I know each other.”

“Oh.” Zoe donned a distinctly less
wary expression and took half a step backward. “Well, okay then. If
you’re sure you’re okay with it, Abby.”

“Don’t worry,” Sam said, fishing in
his pocket. “She’s safe with me.” He held up something that caught
the light, reflecting a metallic glint.

Zoe’s dark brows raced toward her
carefully-parted hairline.

Abby looked up, up, up at
where Sam held a badge aloft, the embossed metal framed by his
thick fingertips. She vividly recalled the feeling of those same
fingertips gliding across her body, stroking, teasing and
giving
– but those
memories were trumped by shock as she realized that the unknowing
father of her baby was an officer with the Pittsburgh
Police.

She hadn’t known, hadn’t
even asked what he did for a living.
That
was how meaningless their night
together had been – or was supposed to have been. In the interest
of not looking like a liar – or worse, a total idiot – she tried to
appear unsurprised as Sam tucked the badge back into his
pocket.

A fall breeze greeted her and Sam as
they walked out the door together. The wind rushed through Abby’s
tied-back hair and imparted an unexpected reviving effect. As she
approached her car, it actually seemed possible that she might make
it home without having to deal with a heaving stomach.

“Sorry about the
cancellation.” She paused by the driver’s side door, her heart in
her throat. Given the circumstances and the things she
needed
to tell him,
maybe it was a dumb thing to say, a waste of conversation. But
those words were the only ones she’d been able to summon to the tip
of her tongue.

“I figured there was a chance you
might have reservations, even if you weren’t sick.”

She looked up, daring to meet the
ice-blue eyes she’d dreamed about more than a few times since she’d
last seen them in person. “You knew it was me? I mean, you chose me
to do your tattoo, knowing who I was?”

He nodded. “When I was searching for
an artist, I found Hot Ink’s site and saw your portfolio. I decided
right then and there who I’d be going to for my next tattoo – it
was easy to recognize you from your picture.” He smiled a smile so
faint Abby almost wondered if she was imagining it. “Can’t miss
those tattoos, or that hair.”

Dumbstruck, she stared at him,
studying his muscular frame again, unable to keep from imagining
him in uniform, his hard body wrapped in blue. God…

“I figured it was just a fluke. I
didn’t realize you came to see me on purpose.” Yeah, her brightly
colored half sleeves and natural platinum locks made her easy
enough to recognize, but she and Sam hadn’t planned to see each
other again after that night.

Chewing the inside of her lower lip,
she mulled the revelation over. She took a lot of pride in her
work, and knew she was good, but still … Hot Ink boasted several of
the city’s most talented tattoo artists. He could have avoided her
by choosing Jed, Eric or any of the others.

“I did.” He said it with finality,
looking right into her eyes.

Why? The question danced on the tip of
her tongue, but she couldn’t force it out, mostly because she
couldn’t think of a good reason why he’d want to see her again.
Their night together had been intended as a no-strings sort of deal
– they’d both been clear about that.

“Maybe when you’re feeling better, I
can take you to dinner.”

His words were so unexpected they
almost sounded like a foreign language. “What?” Maybe she could’ve
blamed her slack-jawed look of surprise on pregnancy hormones, if
he’d known she was pregnant. But then, if he’d known, he surely
wouldn’t have just asked her out on a date.

“I’d like to take you to dinner. Are
you interested?”

Hell yes
, a voice in the back of her head screamed.

Another voice reminded her that he
didn’t know what he was asking, that everything had changed since
they’d last seen each other.