Once Upon a Christmas (44 page)

“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.” 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.

“It looks as if 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
retro-style 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 grinned. “With
motivation like that, you’d probably cream me. I wouldn’t be able to hold up my
head in public.”

At that, Chloe laughed outright. “It 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, but Effram Griggs isn’t. Running the
only bank in town went straight to his head fifteen years ago. 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 have set fire to the
building’s rustic southwestern façade.

“I guess the good-old-boy network still stands tough in
Saguaro Vista,” she croaked, swiping her hand across her eyes. “Since
I’m not a man or, worse, not one of Griggs’s poker buddies, it looks as if 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
brushed 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 the same way they did
before.” Her voice cracked. “It’s no big deal.”

“You’re acting as if it’s a big deal,” he
persisted.

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. Nick wanted to know the reason why. There was definitely more going
on here than met the eye.

“It doesn’t add up.” He examined her closely. “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, her high
heels clicking on 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. 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. 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.

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 blond 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 sleek 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 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. 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?” Chloe
whirled to face him just as they reached his motorcycle. “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 a proponent of shorter workdays, less
ambition, and family, family, family…regardless of the cost.

She jutted her chin. “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 drive me to the bank anymore.”

“Wait a minute. I never said I wouldn’t drive you 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 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 in 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 April sunshine took on a searing, dizzying
quality.

“Am I driving, or you?”

She blinked up at him calmly, just 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, 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 to 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 at him. “I’m pretty sure I understood
the first twenty-two times you said it on the way home.”

Thankfully, now they were parked on the paved driveway at
his house. Free to make her getaway, she jumped off the back of his motorcycle.
More than her ankles wobbled when she hit the ground. “Okay?” she
asked, her voice breaking on the word.

“Okay.” He hesitated…then swore instead. “Dammit,
Chloe. This isn’t the kind of secret I was expecting.”

Ha. He didn’t know the half of it.

“Umm, surprise! I guess,” she said weakly.

He frowned.

Oh, geez—Nick was never going to buy this. She wasn’t
prepared at all. She needed a better strategy, one that would keep him off the
trail of the truth. It was for his own good, after all. Who was she to wreck
his life plans, to sidetrack his dreams, to saddle him with responsibilities he
didn’t want?

Nobody, that’s who. Chloe decided to retreat.

It didn’t work. Nick tailed her all the way across the side
yard bordering their matching redbrick, white-trimmed houses, mumbling
something about secrets and women of mystery.

Clearly, escape was futile.

Sidestepping a patch of blooming prickly pear cactus, Chloe
reached her front porch and abandoned her hopes that Nick might actually let
her get away without having this discussion. So far, he wasn’t handling the
news very well.

She hadn’t even gotten to the good part yet.

All she wanted was to be alone. To postpone all the
explanations and have some time to think. Her loan application had tanked, her
so-called best friend was having a meltdown, and it wasn’t even happy hour yet.

Not that a cocktail would have helped—or even been
advisable, under the circumstances. Maybe a milkshake.

Or maybe a prenatal vitamin. Did those give you extra pep?
She hoped so, because she was going to need it to deal with Nick. A trip to the
doctor was definitely in order, and soon.

Until then, she had a secret to keep—or at least part of
one. With elaborate casualness, Chloe fished her keys from her purse and
unlocked her front door. The moment she finished, Nick’s hand clamped on hers
and twisted the knob. She could barely breathe as he barreled them both inside.

“Pregnant?” He slammed the door shut behind them. “You’re
actually pregnant.”

“No, it’s all a big joke. Get it?”

“
What
?”

The force of his yell backed her across the living room,
stumbling over microscopic bumps in the carpet. Then his arms came up and
trapped her between his chest and the living room wall. His body heat washed
over her, as searing as his expression.

“Explain,” Nick said, grinding the word through
his teeth.

“Sheesh. I’ve never seen you like—”

“
Now
.”

Great. She’d reduced him to monosyllabic responses. This
was
serious.

He pressed forward, pinning her beneath a scary glare that
did a lot to explain what probably went wrong between him and what’shername.

Chloe pressed her lips together and kept mum.

Nick saw straight through her. But then he’d always been
able to before. What made her think she could deceive him now?

Desperation, that’s what.

“
Please
explain,” he growled.

Civility, however grudgingly given, counted toward progress,
Chloe supposed. But something in his voice still made her shiver.

Under different circumstances and minus the Incredible Hulk
routine, she might have enjoyed their nearness. As it was, she did her best not
to think about wanting his arms holding her close instead of caging her in. She
tilted her chin as defiantly as she could.

“The Neanderthal routine doesn’t suit you, Nick.”

He blinked, a perfect picture of disbelief. She’d have
preferred a portrait of understanding or even cheer-me-up humor, but she wasn’t
going to get it. Not this time.

“Neander—” He stopped on a frown, straightened his
specs with one hand, and tried again. “Never mind. You’re not sidetracking
me this time.”

He stared straight in her eyes, looking analytical and
determined and not half as tender as she’d hoped a prospective father might.
Chloe realized she’d set a tough task for herself. How could she keep a secret
she didn’t want to keep? Especially from somebody as inquisitive as Nick?

She wasn’t sure, but she had to try.

“Chloe,” he began, sounding suspiciously patient, “exactly
how did this happen?”

Good question. She should have been ready for it, but she
wasn’t. Behind her, Moe meowed and Larry barked to be let in the back door, but
now wasn’t the time to be distracted. The sooner she got this over with, the
better.

She ducked beneath his arms to put some distance between
them, then threw her suit jacket on the sofa and faced him with her hands on
her hips. “Oh, I dunno, Nick. The usual way, I guess.
You know
.”

His gaze whipped over her, lingered in the neighborhood of
her hips—gauging her suitability for childbearing, she supposed—then rose to
her face. He swallowed.

She’d stunned him into silence. Maybe the idea of somebody
finding his platonic pal Chloe sexy threw him for a loop.

Ouch.

“‘You know’?”
Nick mimicked.
“‘You
know’?
What does that mean?”

“You’re turning red in the face, Nick. Do you want some
water? I’ll get you some water.” She headed for the kitchen. For
sanctuary.

He grabbed her arm and hauled her back. “I want
answers.”

“Would you believe…immaculate conception?”

“Answers. Now.”

“I didn’t think so.”

Okay. Be strong, she told herself. Stick as close to the
truth as possible.

“The truth is, I met someone.” Chloe kept her gaze
trained on his T-shirt’s football helmet logo. “We talked, we laughed,
we….”
We loved
, she wanted to say. But he didn’t want to hear it,
and she couldn’t stand lingering over what she couldn’t have. “We’re over.”

“Over.”

“Yeah.” She kicked off her heels and padded to the
kitchen, wanting to maximize the distance between her and Nick before she
started bawling over lost loves and best friends and second chances that couldn’t
be. Behind her, his breath whooshed out as he sank on the sofa and put his feet
up.

“These things happen you know,” Chloe called over
the opened refrigerator door. “Over. As in you and what’shername.”

“She has a name. I just…dammit, Chloe! You’ve been
calling her what’shername for so long, I can’t remember what it is.”

Good
. And good—he was sidetracked successfully. Maybe
she could handle this secret stuff after all. She grinned despite everything
and shoved the fridge shut with her toe, then carried two slippery cold soda
cans to the living room with her.

She handed him one. “Serves you right for dating more
women than you can count.”

“I can count ‘em. I just can’t keep ‘em.”

“Maybe they can tell you’re already wedded to your
work. They know there’s no future with a guy who kisses with one hand on his
research notebook.”

“Hmmph.” He turned his gaze on her as she curled
up on the other end of her vibrant red plaid sofa, then gave her a bad-boy’s
smile. “I use both hands when the situation warrants it.”

I know.

“I’ll bet.” She turned her can of diet cola in her
hand as she groped for the tab to crack it open. With one finger hooked beneath
it, she conjured up a mock shudder. “But spare me the details, Casanova. I
don’t want to know.”

I want to experience it again.

Too bad she never would.

“Then we’re even.” Nick sounded unexpectedly
weary. “Because I’m not sure I’m ready for the nitty gritty details of
your love life, either.”

Good. Because she wasn’t ready to tell him all the things he
didn’t really want to know. And bad—because that had to be the shortest
sidetracking on record. He was already back on the case.

But silently. Beside her in his habitual spot, Nick let his
head loll back along the sofa’s cushions, eyes closed. Probably still absorbing
her pregnancy news.

Well, so was she. Maybe for now it would be best to just
leave Nick alone and give them both some breathing room. If she was lucky,
maybe he’d take an impromptu nap or something, and grant her a half-hour’s
respite.

Fat chance. When Chloe opened her soda, slurping at the fizz
that crackled out, Nick’s head turned unerringly toward the sound. His eyes
opened.

“You almost had me sidetracked again. You might as well
give up, Chloe, because—” His gaze landed on her diet cola can, halfway to
her lips, and whatever he’d been about to say sputtered beneath his next words.
“Are you insane?” he yelled.

“What?”

He flung himself across the stretch of red plaid separating
them and yanked her diet cola out of her hand. “This is bad for you,”
he said, plunking it on her scarred square coffee table. “You’ve got to
start taking care of yourself better.”

“I’m a grown woman, Nick. I—”

His thumb touched her lips and startled her into silence. “You’re
a woman with a…a baby. That means things are going to change for you.”

Change? That sounded promising. Maybe he meant they’d …
No
.
That was only wishful thinking. That was the first thing she’d have to
change—by cutting it out of her life. She slumped against the sofa cushions and
eyeballed her soda longingly while Nick went on talking.

“You’ll have to watch what you eat, what you drink,
what you do,” he said, warming up to his expertise. “Things like that”—his
gaze shifted to her banished diet soda can—“are off limits.”

She rolled her eyes. “Who are you, Mister Spock?”

“That’s Doctor Spock. And no, I’m not.”

“Look. This is the twenty-first century. You’re—”

“I’m just a guy who’s been an uncle four times over,
Miss Only Child,” Nick interrupted, “and that’s four times more
experience with things baby and pregnancy-related than you.”

Chloe saluted. “Yes, sir.” His concern was
touching, if a little overbearing. “Maybe you’d like to carry the baby
yourself? I’m sure there’ve been supersecret scientific advances by now that
would let you do it. You’re connected with the science community, Nick. You
should look into it.”

“Fun-ny.” He picked himself up off the sofa with a
new aura of purpose, then paused to tousle her hair. “But ridiculous.”

He was right. No man would submit to maternity clothes.

His fingers trailed away as he stepped over her legs and
edged between the coffee table and sofa, headed for the kitchen.

Sighing, Chloe watched him leave. His brief caress left her
temporarily crazy, wanting to drag his hand back to her head, thrust his
fingers back in her hair, even demolish her entire hairstyle…just to feel him
touch her again. But that was impossible, so she stuck both palms beneath her
thighs and reminded herself that no price was too great to preserve their
friendship.

Except maybe whatever…glop in a glass Nick handed her a
few minutes later. He emerged from the kitchen carrying it, looking so
triumphant that she forgave whatever mess he’d created with all the banging and
slamming he’d been doing.