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He looked down at the clock. “It’s after three.”
All the more reason not to let him drive her home. In the middle of the night she felt less…accountable. What if, when they got there, she invited him in? She didn’t want him getting the wrong idea, and she wasn’t sure if she could trust herself.
Astonishing what a night of incredible sex could do to cloud a girl’s judgment. “I’d really rather you didn’t. I’ll be fine, honest.”
“Then take my truck,” he said, taking her hand and pressing his keys into it. “I’ll catch a cab in the morning.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
He gestured toward the bedroom door and followed her into the dark sitting room. When they got to the door she turned to face him. The light from the bedroom illuminated the right side of his face. The side with the dimple.
But he wasn’t smiling. He looked almost sad.
Well, duh, he’d just split up with his fiancée. Of course he was sad.
“I’m really sorry about what happened with Lynn. You’ll meet someone else, I promise.” Someone unlike fiancée number one, who informed him on their wedding day that she’d decided to put off having kids for ten years so she could focus on her career. Or fiancée number two who’d been a real prize. Lynn had obviously been after Nick’s money, but he’d been so desperate to satisfy his driving need to procreate, he’d been blind to what he was getting himself into. Thank goodness he’d come to his senses, let himself see her for what she was.
“I know I will,” he said.
“This probably goes without saying, but it would be best if we kept what happened to ourselves. Things could get weird around the office if anyone found out.”
“Okay,” he agreed. “Not a word.”
Huh. That was easy.
Almost too easy.
“Well, I should go.” She hooked her purse over her shoulder and reached for the doorknob. “I guess I’ll see you at work Monday.”
He leaned forward and propped a hand above her head on the door, so she couldn’t pull it open. “Since this isn’t going to happen again, how about one last kiss?”
Oh no, bad idea. Nick’s kiss is what had gotten them into this mess in the first place. The man could work miracles with his mouth. Had he been a lousy kisser, she never would have slept with him. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
He was giving her that look again, that heavy-lidded hungry look he’d had just before they had attacked each other the first time. And suddenly he seemed to be standing a lot closer. And he smelled so good, looked so good in the pale light that her head felt a little swimmy.
“Come on,” he coaxed, “one little kiss.”
Like a magnet she felt drawn to him. She could feel herself leaning forward even as she told him, “That would be a bad idea.”
“Probably,” he agreed, easing in to meet her halfway. He caressed her cheek with the tips of his fingers, combed them gently through her hair. The hair band pulled loose and a riot of blond curls sprang free, hanging in damp ringlets around her face.
“Nick, don’t,” she said. But she didn’t do anything to stop him. “We agreed this wouldn’t happen again.”
“Did we?” His hand slipped down to her shoulder. She felt a tug, and heard the snap of her other spaghetti strap being torn. Her dress was now officially strapless. And in another second it would be lying on the floor.
Oh God, here we go again.
Nick pushed the strap of her purse off the opposite shoulder and it landed with a soft thump on the floor at their feet and his truck keys landed beside it. “We’re already here, the damage has been done. Is one more time really going to make that much of a difference?”
It was hard to argue with logic like that, especially when he was nibbling her ear. And he was right. The damage had already been done.
What difference could one more time possibly make?
“Just a quick one,” she said, reaching for the fastener on his slacks. She tugged it free and shoved them down his hips. “As long as we agree that what goes on in this room stays in this room.”
His lips brushed her shoulder and her knees went weak. “Agreed.”
Then he kissed her and she melted.
One more time, she promised herself as he bunched the skirt of her dress up around her waist and lifted her off the floor.
“One more time,” she murmured as she locked her legs around his hips and he pinned her body to the wall, entered her with one deep, penetrating thrust.
One more time and they would forget this ever happened…
Two
What difference could one more time possibly make? Apparently, more than either she or Nick had anticipated.
Zoë glanced up at the clock above her desk, then down to the bottom drawer of the file cabinet where she’d stashed the bag from the pharmacy behind the employment records. The bag that had been sitting there for four days now because she conveniently kept forgetting to bring it home every night after work. Mostly because she’d been trying to convince herself that she was probably overreacting. She was most likely suffering some funky virus that would clear up on its own. A virus that just happened to zap all of her energy, made her queasy every morning when she rolled out of bed and made her breasts swollen and sore.
And, oh yeah, made her period late.
She was sure there had to be a virus like that, because there was no chance in hell this condition was actually something that would require 2 a.m. feedings and diapers.
She would have a much easier time explaining this away if she wasn’t ninety-nine percent sure Nick hadn’t been wearing a condom that last time up against the hotel room wall.
It’s not as if she could come right out and ask him. Not without him freaking out and things getting really complicated. It had taken several weeks to get past the post-coital weirdness. At first, it had been hard to look him in the eye, knowing he’d seen her naked, had touched her intimately.
Every time she looked at his hands, she remembered the way they felt against her skin. Rough and calloused, but oh so tender. And so big they seemed to swallow up every part of her that he touched.
His slim hips reminded her of the way she’d locked her legs around him as he’d pinned her to the wall. The way he’d entered her, swift and deep. How she’d come apart in his arms.
And his mouth. That wonderfully sinful mouth that melted her like butter in a hot skillet…
No. No. No.
Bad Zoë.
She shook away the lingering memory of his lean, muscular body, of his weight sinking her into the mattress, her body shuddering with pleasure. She’d promised herself at least a hundred times a day that she wasn’t going to think about that anymore. Finally things seemed to be getting back to normal. She and Nick could have a conversation without that undertone of awkwardness.
Zoë didn’t want to risk rocking the boat.
She hadn’t even told her sister Faith, and they told each other almost everything. Although, after their last phone conversation Zoë was under the distinct impression Faith knew something was up. It wouldn’t be unlike her sister to drop everything and show up unannounced if she thought there was something that Zoë wasn’t telling her.
She took a deep, fortifying breath. She was being ridiculous. She should just take the damned test and get it over with. She’d spent the ten bucks, after all. She might as well get her money’s worth. Waiting yet another week wouldn’t change the final outcome. Either she was or she wasn’t. It would be good to know now, so she could decide what to do.
And decide what she would tell Nick.
As she was reaching for the bottom drawer handle, Shannon from accounting appeared in the doorway and Zoë breathed a sigh of relief.
“Hey, hon, you up for lunch with the girls? We’re heading over to Shooters.”
Despite being a nervous wreck, she was starving. Though she normally ate a salad for lunch, she would sell her soul for a burger and fries and a gigantic milkshake. And for dessert, a double chocolate sundae. Hold the pickles.
“Lunch sounds wonderful.”
She grabbed her purse and jacket and gave the file cabinet one last glance before she followed Shannon into the hall.
As soon as she got back from lunch, she promised herself. She would put the test in her purse so she wouldn’t forget it, and tonight when she got home she would get to the bottom of this.
Nick walked down the hall to Zoë’s office and popped his head inside, finding it empty and feeling a screwy mix of relief and disappointment. He’d come to her office now, knowing she would probably be on her lunch break. Though they’d promised to pretend it hadn’t happened, he couldn’t seem to make himself forget every erotic detail of their night together. He’d been doing his best to pretend nothing had changed, but something was still a little…off.
Something about Zoë—a thing he couldn’t quite put his finger on—seemed different.
He couldn’t stop himself from wondering, what if? What if he’d told her he didn’t want to pretend like it hadn’t happened?
He just wasn’t sure if that’s what he really wanted. Were he and Zoë too different for that kind of relationship?
She was a cat person and he had a dog. He was faded Levi’s and worn leather and she was so prim and…girly. His music preferences ranged from classic rock to rich, earthy blues with a little jazz piano thrown in for flavor. Zoë seemed to sway toward eighties pop and any female singer, and she had the annoying habit of blaring Christmas music in July.
He was a meat and potatoes man, and as far as he could tell, Zoë existed on salads and bottled mineral water. He watched reality television and ESPN and she preferred crime dramas and chick flicks.
In fact, he couldn’t think of a single thing they had in common. Besides the sex, which frankly they did pretty damned well.
Even if they could get past all of their differences, there was the problem of them wanting completely different things from life. In all the years he’d known her, she’d never once expressed a desire to have children. Not that he could blame her given her family history. But he’d grown up an only child raised by an aunt and uncle who’d had no use for the eight-year-old bastard dumped in their care. He’d spent his childhood in boarding schools and camps.
He wanted a family—at least three kids, maybe more. He just had to find a woman who wanted that, too. One who wasn’t more interested in climbing the corporate ladder than having a family. And definitely one who wouldn’t insist on a two week European honeymoon followed by mansion hunting in one of Detroit’s most exclusive communities.
Material things didn’t mean much to him. He was content with his modest condo and modest vehicle. His modest life. All the money in the world didn’t buy happiness. Thousands of dollars in gifts from his aunt and uncle had never made up for a lack of love and affection. His children would always know they were loved. They would never be made to feel like an inconvenience. And he sure as hell would never abandon them.
It had taken him years to realize there wasn’t anything wrong with him. That he didn’t drive people away. With a long history of mental illness, his mother could barely take care of herself much less a child, and his aunt and uncle simply had no interest in being parents. It would have been easy for them to hand him back over to social services when his mom lost custody. At least they’d taken responsibility for him.
If not for the lack of affection, one might even say he’d been spoiled as a kid. If he wanted or needed something all it took was a phone call to his uncle and it was his.
A convertible sports car the day he got his driver’s license? No problem.
An all-expenses-paid trip to Cancún for graduation? It’s yours.
The best education money can buy at a first-rate East Coast school? Absolutely.
But no one had handed him his education. He’d worked his tail off to make the dean’s list every semester, to graduate at the top of his class. To make his aunt and uncle proud, even if they didn’t know how to show it. And when he’d asked his uncle to loan him the money to start his company, the entire astronomical sum had been wired to his account within twenty-four hours.
They wouldn’t win any awards for parents of the year, but his aunt and uncle had done the best they could.
He would do better.
There had to be a Ms. Right out there just waiting for him to sweep her off her feet. A woman who wanted the same things he did. And hopefully he would find her before he was too old to play ball with his son, to teach his daughter to Rollerblade.
He stepped into Zoë’s office, trying to remember where in the file cabinet she kept the personnel files. Seeing as how she wasn’t exactly organized, they could be pretty much anywhere.
Despite the disarray, she somehow managed to keep the office running like a finely tuned watch. She’d become indispensable. He would be lost without her.
He started at the top and worked his way down, finding them, of course, in the bottom drawer. He located the file of a new employee, Mark O’Connell, to see if there was some reason why the guy would be missing so much work. Not to mention showing up late. Nick was particular when he hired new employees. He didn’t understand how someone with such impeccable references could be so unpredictable on the job.
He grabbed the file and was about to shut the drawer when he saw the edge of a brown paper bag poking up from the back.
Huh. What could that be? He didn’t remember seeing that the last time he looked in here.
He grabbed the bag and pulled it out. He was about to peek inside, when behind him he heard a gasp.
“What are you doing?”
Nick turned, the pharmacy bag in his hand, and Zoë stood in the office doorway, back from lunch, frozen. If he opened that bag, things were going to get really complicated really fast.
“I found this in the file cabinet,” he said.
When she finally found her voice, she did her best to keep it calm and rational. Freaking out would only make things worse. “I don’t appreciate you going through my things.”
He gave her an annoyed look. “How was I supposed to know it’s yours? It was in the file cabinet with the personnel files. The files I need to have access to, to run my company.”
He was right. She should have kept it in her car, or her purse. Of course, then what excuse would she have had for not using it? She walked toward him and held out a hand. “You’re right, I apologize. Can I have it back please?”
He looked at her, then at the bag. “What is it?”
“Something personal.”
She took another step toward him, hand outstretched, and he took a step back.
A devious grin curled his lips, showing off the dent in his right cheek. “How much is it worth to you?”
He hadn’t teased her in weeks. Now was not the time to start acting like his pain-in-the-behind old self. “That isn’t funny, Nick. Give it to me.”
He held the bag behind his back. “Make me.”
How could a grown man act so damned juvenile? He didn’t have kids, so what, he’d act like one?
She stepped toward him, her temper flaring, and held out her hand. “Please.”
He sidestepped out of her way, around her desk, thoroughly enjoying himself if his goofy grin was any indication.
She felt like punching him.
Couldn’t he see that she was fuming mad? Didn’t he care that he was upsetting her?
Heat climbed up her throat and into her cheeks. “You’re acting like an ass, Nick. Give it back to me now.”
