Once Upon a Christmas (47 page)

The postman eyed him suspiciously. As though egged on by his
blatant distrust, Larry morphed into Superdog in Nick’s arms, lurching hard to
get free. Then the postman got wise and put away his pepper spray, Chloe got to
her feet, and everything turned right with the world.

“Oh, Nick!” She leaped toward him, enfolding both
him and Larry in a bone-crushing hug. The dog squirmed, trying to lick her
face. “Thank you! You saved us.” Her gaze shifted to Curly, rolling
his exercise ball uselessly atop a patch of volcanic rock gravel, then upward
again. “You saved us all.”

Sure
, Nick thought, gazing down into her shining
eyes. The way she looked at him made him feel ten feet tall, the greatest hero
ever conceived of.
I saved myself right into your arms
. What was he,
nuts?

Chloe’s flowered baseball cap was askew, her hair damp at
the ends and clinging to her neck, her outrageous lipstick mostly melted away
by the Arizona afternoon. Her fluttery eyelashes were devoid of mascara and
whatever other girly gunk she usually used. She looked wrung out.

She looked gorgeous.

He was a goner.

Where the hell had that thought come from
? Nick shook
it out of his head. Clearly a case of testosterone talking. It had to be,
because he was Chloe’s platonic male friend and nothing else. Nothing else,
because her romantic side belonged to a mysterious Marine named Bruno. The
reminder snipped the last strand of his already wire-thin patience.

“Well, you damn well needed saving.” Nick scowled.
“What the hell were you thinking, anyway, taking your whole stupid menagerie
out for a walk like that?”

Chloe backed up. The sunlight left her eyes, but he couldn’t
let that deter him. She’d get over being mad at him. She might not get over the
next ditzy stunt she decided to pull.

“You could have broken your neck!”

“You’re right. Curly could have gotten—” Her voice
broke, forcing her to try again. “Larry might have been hurt, or—”

“
You
might have been hurt! What’s it going to
take to knock some sense into you? Because, God knows, your baby hasn’t
accomplished that miracle yet.”

Her hands went to her belly, cradling the child within. He
doubted she was even aware of the gesture—or of the tears that shimmered in her
elfin eyes.

“That’s not fair, Nick. You don’t know—”

“Don’t know what? Don’t know why you don’t get some
help?”

Larry wriggled in his arms. Frustrated, Nick scanned the
neighborhood and saw that the postman had already gotten in his vehicle. Larry
would be safe on his own for the moment. Nick dumped his dog-breath burden on
the gravel and went on talking.

“You’re right, Chloe. I don’t know why you insist on
being so stubborn that you’d rather risk hurting yourself than ask for
help.”

“I don’t need help.”

“Ha! That’s a laugh, after today. If I hadn’t—” He
glimpsed Larry nudging sideways, casting longing looks toward the sidewalk. “Larry,
stay.”

The dog cocked his head, seeming at a loss to understand the
command.
Great
, Nick thought as Larry gave him a tentative tail wag.
Even
her dog is featherbrained
.

“Stay,” Nick growled.

“He responds better to kindness.”
And so do I,
Chloe’s expression said.

“Chloe—”

“Come on, Larry,” she said, her voice quavery. “We’ve
got a walk to finish. Doctor’s orders.”

The dog got up—Nick would have sworn the mutt rolled his
eyes at his ignored “stay” command—then sneezed and sauntered away. A
definite swagger propelled all four of his doggie legs.

At least one of the males present had managed to stay in
Chloe’s good graces. How could it
not
be Nick, when he’d done all he
could to protect her? It didn’t make sense. Nothing drove him crazy like things
not making sense. But it wasn’t illogic that made him call out to her. It was
something far less defined and much more irresistible.

It was the sudden, crazy need to take care of Chloe. To keep
her safe and happy. Him. Not one of her Brunos or anybody else. Just him.

If he’d stopped to think about it, the whole idea would have
probably scared the hell out of him. But the sight of Chloe swaying down the
street—leaving him behind—shook everything else from Nick’s mind.

“Chloe, wait.”

She turned. And waited, with a sad look in her eyes that
hurt just to see it. It worried him to see her fighting spirit dampened, even
if only for a block or two. Even if only for as long as she needed to power
walk out of his sight.

Frowning, he reached her and drew her closer to him. She
bumped along reluctantly, twisting Larry’s leash from its dispenser between
them until they stood toe to toe.

“Wait,” he said again.

She gazed up at him, all sweetness and seduction without
even knowing it…and frowned in confusion. “What’s up?”

In her place, he’d be wondering exactly the same thing. But
the combination of her nearness and the realization that his hand fit perfectly
in the delicate curve at the small of her back waylaid his explanation. It was
as though he’d been born to hold her this way. Damp heat rose through her
bright T-shirt to tease his palm, and suddenly Nick wanted to slip his hand
beneath the fabric and feel her bare skin on his instead.

Why hadn’t he ever held her this way before? She felt better
than he could have imagined.

“That was a rotten thing I said back there.”

The tropical scent of her perfume wafted to him, muddling
his thoughts. It was feminine and sweet and almost tantalizing enough to make
him forget that the woman in his arms was Chloe, his best friend. She needed
him now. Not as another one of her muscle-headed Brunos, but as the voice of
reason.

Damn, but it was hard to be reasonable when her softness
surrounded him and the curve of her hip melted into his forearm. It made him
wonder how soft she’d be everywhere else…without eye-popping clothes and a
layer of anger between them.

Only one of those barriers could be dealt with on a city
sidewalk in broad daylight. “I’m sorry I said it.”

“You meant it,” Chloe said matter-of-factly. Her
spine straightened against his hand. He felt her take in a deep breath. “Or
else you wouldn’t have said it. I’m a big girl, Nick. I can handle it.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah!”

He tightened his hold on her waist. His other hand went to
her front and captured the frayed line from Larry’s leash.

“Well, you can’t handle this.” One sharp tug
snapped the line in two.

Chloe gasped. At her feet, Larry plopped on the grass and
scratched his paw over his ear, not caring that he was technically free to roam
wild through the neighborhood. He looked bored with the whole thing.

Chloe didn’t. She stepped out of Nick’s arms and propped her
hands on her hips. The old Chloe was back, and she was mad.

“What’s that supposed to prove? That you’re some big
he-man who can snap a couple inches of leash line? Sorry, not impressed.”

She wheeled around. Nick grabbed her elbow and yanked her
back. “It proves you can’t handle things as well as you think you can.”
How could she be so stubborn? So blind to the facts?

“It’s just a broken leash!”

“You’re right. And this is just a baby.” He put
his hand to the curve of her belly, felt the warmth and life within her. “Your
baby.”

She went still. She paled and pressed her hand over his. “Don’t
do this, Nick. Please, I—”

“You need help. Have you told Brutus—”

“Bruno.”

“—about the baby yet? Because he has a responsibility
to fulfill. He should take care of you. Marry you. Do whatever it takes.”
At her mournful look, Nick rubbed his thumb gently over her belly. “I’m
warning you, Chloe. If you won’t make sure you’re taken care of…I will.”

Chapter Six

He’d take care of her
? What in the world did he mean?

Chloe bit her lip, trying to hold in the surge of joy she
felt. Then her elation wavered. The last thing she wanted was for Nick to take
care of her out of some antiquated sense of responsibility. Their baby deserved
more, and so did she.

Besides, if Nick really wanted her for himself, why did he
have to keep bringing up Bruno? Why now, of all times? The two of them were
near enough to tango, close enough to kiss. A million miles away from the love
she’d touched so briefly.

Why, oh why, had she invented Bruno? He’d only complicated
things better left simply heart-wrenching and insolvable.

“I don’t want a man who’d only marry me out of duty.
That’s no kind of life for me.” Chloe looked up at him, needing to make
him understand. “Don’t you get it yet, Einstein? I want the whole
fairytale ending. White picket fence, a ring on my finger…and a man who loves
me.”

Nick caressed her belly again. “There’s more than
yourself to think about now.”

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Why wouldn’t he
understand?

“That’s the whole point, you big idiot!”

Tears gathered in her eyes, blurring her vision until Nick
didn’t even look like someone she knew anymore. Blinking hard, Chloe bent to
catch hold of Larry’s collar and urge him to his feet. She had to leave, had to
get out of there before she blurted the whole sordid truth to Nick and ruined
everything.

“I’ll see you around.” She sniffled as she churned
down the sidewalk. Power walking was almost impossible when you couldn’t see
anything, she was discovering. “I’ve got more indulgent and incredibly
self-absorbed things to do with my time than be lectured to.”

Behind her, Nick mumbled something about hormones and
irrational women. Something stupid enough to make her blood boil, probably, if
she’d stopped to listen. So she didn’t.

Chloe was already at her front door, scrabbling around in
the zebra-striped mailbox affixed beside her doorbell, by the time Nick caught
up with her.

She held up her hands in frustration. “What do you want
now?” she demanded.

The mailbox lid clinked shut, neatly hiding the wrapped
package of books she’d left inside for her mail carrier—a secret romance novel
reader. They were a payment of sorts, for his part in her stupid ploy to get
Nick to play the hero for her. She had to admit, his pepper spray threat had
been the most inspired touch in her otherwise ridiculous plan. He probably
deserved an extra book for that one.

What had she been thinking? She should have known her ploy
was doomed from the instant she perched Shemp on her shoulder and paraded past
Nick’s window. Just getting him to glance outside at them had taken four trips.

Now, ironically, she couldn’t get rid of him.

“I said, what do you want? Maybe you’ve got a textbook
on pregnancy for me? Or another earful of clueless, bachelor, non-father
wisdom?” Getting angrier by the minute, Chloe pointed her finger at Nick
and backed him against the porch rail. “What’s it going to be, huh? I
thought I’d had all the advice I’d ever need from my mother, but I guess there’s
always room for one more opinion.”

She folded her arms across her chest, glaring at him.

He smiled at her.

“Arrgh!”

He laughed, the rat.

Chloe turned her back on him and whistled for Larry. She had
the key in the lock before Nick finally came clean.

“I brought you this.”

She looked over her shoulder. He held out Curly’s scuffed
exercise ball, offering it to her with the same attitude he might have used to
lob over a grenade.

“You left poor Curly stranded back at Mrs. Marchen’s
yard.”

When you left in a huff
, his grin added.

Chloe reached for the ball. Her fingers touched the edge,
dug in the grooves, and pulled with no effect at all. He wouldn’t let go.

She tried to pry his fingers loose. “I’m not up for
another tug of war.”

“Are you up for a peace offering? I’ll make you dinner
tonight.”

Her heart stopped. Dinner at his place was Nick’s standard
third-date maneuver with the what’shernames in his life. Was he actually asking
her for a date?

Yes, yes
! her heart shouted.
Say yes
!

“Tonight?” she asked, feeling breathless.

Their fingers touched across the exercise ball. Heat jolted
from his to hers, and when Nick gave her a wide, eyelid-crinkling smile to go
with it, Chloe knew she was a goner.

Maybe she was going about this all wrong. Maybe running away
from Nick was a step in the wrong direction—so to speak.

“Tonight.”

His voice sent a fresh shiver through her. How had she not
noticed before how throaty, how thrilling, how all-out sexy his voice was?

“It’s a date,” she said happily, prying his index
finger loose from Curly’s ball. He winced. She looked closer. “Nick, you’re
bleeding!”

“It’s nothing.” He shrugged, flexing his finger
and looking macho. “I guess Curly thought I might taste good.”

So did Chloe, when she arrived at Nick’s place that night.
He opened the door against the orange and gold rays of the setting sun, wearing
a pair of slouchy navy shorts, an open-necked white shirt, and a smile. His
hair was still damp—from a recent shower, she guessed—and it looked as though
he’d even shaved for the occasion.

Very tasty, indeed.

Smiling in appreciation, Chloe edged closer and considered
taking a bite. Right at the intriguingly masculine-looking place where the side
of his neck disappeared beneath the collar of his shirt. Or maybe she’d just
nibble gently on his earlobe, finding the secret spot she now knew was
ticklish.

Instead, she tamped down the impulse and settled for a
simple, “Thanks for the invite.”

His grin widened, probably because he’d caught her ogling
him. “Thanks for coming.”

She handed over the sparkling apple juice she’d brought,
then froze as soon as the bottle hit Nick’s hand. He looked at it, then at her,
with something akin to confusion.