A Baby...Maybe? & How to Hunt a Husband (20 page)

“So…” her father finally said when the silence at the table grew too weighty, “…how did you two meet?”

Shannon looked to Nate, giving him the floor.

He obviously caught her meaning, because he said, “We were introduced by a mutual friend at the bar, then we went to an art show and that's when I knew Shannon here was the woman for me.”

Shannon figured her parents would totally freak out at the bar comment, but instead her mother zeroed in on the second part of his statement. “An art show?”

Shannon was glad her mother had asked, because she'd love to know just what Nate had in mind with that little tidbit.

“Yeah. There was a local show of biker art.”

“Biker art?” her father echoed.

“Yeah. All the tattoos this local artist has done over the years…he'd taken them all and copied them onto canvas collages.”

“Tattoos?” her mother said weakly.

“Yeah. I have a lot of them, though this mermaid,” he flexed his arm, causing the mermaid to wiggle suggestively, “is the only one that shows unless I take off my shirt,” he paused half a beat and then added, “or pants.”

“Oh, no,” her mom said in a rush, “that's fine. The mermaid is beautiful.”

“Yeah, I think so. As a matter of fact, Shannon here is thinking about getting a tattoo with me. Matching hearts with each other's name in 'em. Maybe we'll do that as an engagement thing. What do you think, babe?”

“Engagement?”

Her mom just kept repeating what Nate said, clearly too shocked to think of anything original to say.

“Yeah,” Nate said as he reached over and patted Shannon's hand on the table. “Shannon here, she told me about how you need her to get married in order to win a bet, and of course, I'm willing. I mean, if anyone understands how important winning a bet is, it's me. I've probably won, and then lost, a million dollars over the years. I'd like to see to it that you won because, let's face it, that's a lot more fun than losing. After all, you'll be my mother-in-law soon, so your honor is tied to my honor and I wanta see you win.”

“But married? Why, you only just met,” Brigit protested.

“Shannon said you had everything reserved for the end of June. That leaves us plenty of time to get to know each other.”

“But…but…” her mother stuttered.

Shannon stared, mouth slightly agape. Her mother was stuttering. That never happened. Her
mother was always in control, always had a plan, always had some contingency, always got the last word.

Nate had totally silenced her mother!

He was her hero.

She reached under the table and gave his knee a squeeze of thanks.

“Shannon,” her mother said with a tsking noise. “Are you two teasing? Married? Already? Oh, you two. I want Shannon to marry for compatibility, stability—”

“Love?” Shannon added.

“Of course, love. I would never want you to marry so I could win a bet.”

Shannon managed not to scoff.

Bull smiled. “Well, Shannon and I were sort of set on the idea of a June wedding, but we could put the final decision off for a while, if that would make you feel better. Just don't go canceling anything 'cause I can't see me changin' my mind.”

“Definitely put off a final decision for a while,” her mother echoed. “It wouldn't do to rush into things.”

“But Cara's in Texas and Mrs. Romano—” Shannon said.

“Shannon, the ideas you get. I was just kidding about the bet.”

“But Kate's dress?” Shannon asked.

“You'll have it when you need it, but I don't want you to rush into anything.”

“But—”

“So, Bull, why don't you tell me more about—” her mother hesitated as if searching for a subject she thought was safe “—your motorcycle.”

“Well…” he said, and launched into a long monologue on the joys of Harley Davidson motorcycles. As he talked he gave Shannon's hand another squeeze.

She just sat back and watched her mother's wedding dreams evaporate.

It was a good night.

“G
OOD NIGHT
,”
Nate, aka Bull, said when they arrived at Shannon's house a few hours later.

Shannon was riding a high because they'd defeated her mother.

She'd won!

“You could come in for a while, if you like,” she said.

Nate looked surprised to hear the invitation, which is exactly how Shannon felt to hear herself issue the invitation.

She wasn't sure why, but she was sure she wasn't ready for the night to end.

“I don't have work tomorrow,” he said, slowly, almost hesitantly.

What was with him?

Nate had been quiet since they'd left her parents' house. Not that it was easy to talk on a motorcycle, but still, he seemed…well, distant.

“Never mind,” she said. “Forget I asked.”

She was just asking him in to celebrate their victory and you'd have thought she was asking him to get his teeth drilled.

“No, I mean, yes, I'd like to come in.” He might
have said the words, but they didn't sound overly sincere.

Did she have cooties or something? She'd been sweating bullets at the beginning of the evening, but she didn't think she smelled.

“Really, never mind. It was just an idea,” she said as she unlocked the door and stepped inside.

She would have shut the door in his face, but he caught it before it shut and pushed it back open. “Shannon, I'd really like to come in.”

She shrugged and started walking into the foyer, leaving the door open for him to follow if he wanted.

She didn't turn around, but heard the door shut, and then his footsteps against the hardwood floor as he followed her into the house.

“Make yourself at home,” she said, gesturing toward the couch.

This room was the reason she'd bought the house. Big, with dark, original woodwork, a huge stone fireplace and hardwood floors. She loved nothing better than to curl up on her couch and just enjoy the comfort of the room.

But tonight, with Nathan standing in it, the room didn't feel big, or comfortable.

“Do you want something to drink?” she asked after he'd taken a seat.

“I'm okay. Those couple beers were plenty.”

She wished he had wanted something so she would have an excuse to leave the room and collect
herself. For some reason, she was feeling a bit breathless and she wasn't sure why.

She sat opposite him on the couch, leaving as much space as possible between them.

Silence weighed heavily on the room.

Shannon tried to think of something to break it and finally said, “Um, I don't suppose you're hungry?”

“Nah. Your mom's a much better cook than my mom is, only don't tell my mom I said that. I'm quashing her grandbaby plans, I don't want to take everything away from her.”

“Okay.”

Silence again ruled the room for what seemed like an eternity.

Finally, Shannon said, “This is silly. Just go home. It's okay.”

“No it's not okay,” he said. “I'm not sure what's going on. Even that first night, we didn't have any trouble talking to each other. I felt an immediate connection—as if we'd been friends for years. So why all the awkward silences now?”

“Maybe it's because before, we had a plan. We were working toward a common goal. That first night we were plotting out strategy, a couple of nights ago we were carrying out act one, and tonight act two. It's over now. We don't have anything else to talk about, at least until I come to dinner at your parents' again next week. It's not as if we're friends, or as if we're really dating.”

“Maybe we should,” he said abruptly.

“Should what?” she asked.

“Really date.”

“Why?”

“Why not?” he said.

Shannon clutched her chest and laughed. “Oh, be still my heart.
Why not,
he says. Now, those are words to warm a girl's heart.
Why not?
It's sort of like saying, ‘Do you want a cheeseburger' and having someone answer, ‘Sure, why not?'”

“Come on, Shannon, that's not what I meant,” Nate protested.

She continued talking, as if she hadn't heard him. “I mean, if this is how you sweet-talk women, it's clear why you're not married and your mother is pining away after a grandbaby.”

“Hey, that's not fair,” Nate said. “I sweet-talk women just fine.”

“Oh, yeah?” Shannon slid closer to him and looked him right in the face. “Say we were dating for real. Pretend I'd invited you in, and we were sitting next to each other on my couch. What sweet nothings would you whisper in my ear?”

His face was a hand's length away from hers. She looked right into his dark-brown eyes. No, not quite brown. That was too plain a word to describe the rich color. They were the color of coffee. A perfect mug of Colombian coffee that had been hand-roasted to perfection.

“Come on, this isn't fair,” Nate protested. “You're putting me on the spot.”

“Ha. I rest my case. You, Nathan Calder, are no sweet-talker. A man who is used to using smooth words on women wouldn't have any problems coming up with something on the spur of the moment.”

“Hey, I can
smooth
as well as the next guy,” he said.

“Let me just say, ha, again.”

“Stop ha-ing me.”

“Ha. Ha. Ha. Okay, I'll give you that you talk as smooth as the next guy, but only because guys don't talk smooth at all, unless it's in the movies. And then they only manage it because it was probably a woman writing the script. Men wouldn't know a sweet word if they had a giant thesaurus in front of them.”

Nate actually shook a finger at her as he said, “That's a totally sexist thing to say. Men don't need a woman's help to smooth-talk a woman.”

“That was a rather convoluted sentence, don't you think? And you shook your finger at me as though I was some kid that needed scolding.”

He dropped his hand on his lap. “I did not.”

“Hey, I know a finger-shake when I see one and you definitely shook.”

“Shannon, I don't shake fingers.”

“Ha. You're a finger-shaking, non-sweet-talking…man.”

“There you go, ha-ing me again.”

“Finger-shaker.”

“Ha-er.”

They both paused, faces inches apart and, as if on cue, they both burst out laughing.

Nate managed to stop laughing long enough to ask, “Why are we fighting? We've done it. We totally freaked your mom out, and even though my mom loves you, we'll get her next time. So why are we fighting?”

“Why not?”
Shannon said with a huge grin.

His smile was a mirror image. “You know, you're a rather annoying woman at times. But then, I think that's a feminine trait. Annoying men.”

“Oh, yeah, that's sweet talk if I ever heard it.” She batted her eyelids and sighed, “Your melodic prose sets my senses aglow.”

“You want sweet and smooth? How about this? You're eyes are like…” He paused, and the pause dragged on until it had become silence.

“Oh, you smooth-talking, sweet-worded man, you.”

“Hang on. Give me a second to put this together.” He took a deep breath and said, “Your eyes are your most striking feature. When people meet you, they probably think it's your hair—that fire-engine shade is an attention-grabber. But anyone around you long enough knows it's not the hair. You're eyes they…sparkle. They show your every emotion. They grab hold of a guy, like some sort of charm, and don't let go. I've seen those
eyes, your eyes, in my dreams every night since we met.”

Shannon laughed, but it sounded forced even to her ears. “Okay, that's enough.”

“What? You don't seem amused any longer. Is this making you nervous?” he challenged.

“Why would I be nervous?”

Shannon asked the question because, to be honest, she didn't have a clue why Nate was making her nervous, but he was. Her heart was pounding, her palms were sweating.

Maybe she was sick?

Maybe she was having a heart attack?

It would serve him right if she was. After all, he was the one making her feel this way. Elevating her blood pressure to such a degree that some vessel was bound to give way.

“Maybe you're nervous because I'm looking at your eyes and it makes me wonder what it would be like to kiss you.”

“Why would looking at my eyes make you wonder about kissing me? You'd think my lips would do that.”

There. She'd told him. Eyes didn't make people think about kissing, but lips did, and looking at Nate's lips, Shannon was pretty sure kissing him wouldn't be a hardship.

“No, just like you'd think your hair should be your most striking feature, but it isn't, it's your eyes, not your lips that makes me think about kiss
ing you. Looking into your eyes, I feel as if I've known you forever, and I feel this surge of desire and that's what makes me want to kiss you. Desire. A soft, sweet need to connect.”

“Okay,” she said, her voice soft and breathy to her own ears. “That was a pretty smooth line.”

“It wasn't a line,” Nate said, inching closer, closing the slight distance that separated them on the couch. “I'm serious. I want to kiss you.”

“But, this is all pretend. It's not as if we're really dating, or anything.”

“Who says we couldn't?” he asked.

“Couldn't kiss, or couldn't date?”

“Both.”

“Me. I say.”

“Why?”

Looking at his lips so close, so tempting, Shannon almost wanted to say “why not?” and just kiss him. But she resisted the urge and said, “Listen, I'm not ready to settle down. I like my life. I like sappy movies and not having to shave my legs. I like doing what I want and not worrying about someone else.”

“Me, too.”

“You like watching sappy movies?” she asked.

“No. Not that part. But I do like my life the way it is. Uncomplicated. That's the beautiful thing about our…well, whatever it is we could have. We're coming into it knowing what we want. Un
complicated. If I ask you out and you don't want to go, you can feel free to say no. And vice versa.”

“So what you're suggesting is we date, but not really.”

“We'd date enough to keep our moms off our backs.”

“So, more than just a couple dinners. An ongoing casual dating thing? That's what you're suggesting?”

“Yeah,” Nate said. “As if we were friends.”

“Buddies.”

“Pals.”

“So-o-o,” Shannon said, dragging the word out. “If I were to ask if you wanted to watch a movie tonight?”

“Then I'd say I'd much rather kiss you.”

“And if I did kiss you?”

“Then I might be tempted to try something more.”

“Okay, so let's not take a chance on tempting you,” she said. “At least not yet. Let's just watch a movie.”

If Nate was annoyed that she was avoiding kissing him he didn't show it. He simply smiled and asked, “What movie?”

“
Terms of Endearment
?”

“No way. That's too sappy for any self-respecting man.”

“
Steel Magnolias?
”

“Even more no way.”

“Are you too manly to watch a chick-flick?” she asked with a grin.

“Yeah. Just call me Bull, ma'am. If it don't got blood and guts, I don't watch it.”

“
Terminator
?”

“
Terminator
?” That stopped him. “You've got a copy of
Terminator
in with all those girly films?”

“When you get down to the core of the movie, it's a love story.”

Shannon had always admired the sweet poignancy of the couple's love in the midst of such horrible odds.

“No way is it a romance,” Nate protested.

“When's the last time you watched it?”

“I don't know, but I know Arnold doesn't make chick-flicks.”

“
Terminator
it is, then.”

 

N
ATE LOOKED
at the woman curled in his arms. Shannon had fallen asleep sometime before the end of the movie. He hadn't noticed right away. But gradually, she'd leaned his way, pressing her warm body against his.

Leaning closer and closer.

He'd wrapped an arm around her and had enjoyed the sensation of just holding her.

The credits rolled and he smiled.

She'd been right,
Terminator
was a romance, though he'd never thought of it that way.

His smiled faded.

What on earth was he doing?

He was cuddled on the couch, a sleeping woman in his arms and he felt…almost content.

He'd never even kissed her.

They'd talked about kissing, but hadn't.

Instead they'd simply enjoyed watching a movie together. Shannon had made them popcorn and they'd sat on the couch like some old married couple watching a movie.

He noticed a stray piece of hair falling over her eye. It just barely touched her eyelid because her hair was so short.

Normally he liked long hair on women, but on Shannon…well, the short cut worked. It fit her personality. It sort of said, “wild and free-spirited.” But what her hair didn't say was “sweet.” No, that's where her eyes came in.

Thinking of her eyes made him think about all the stuff he'd said. Sweet, goopy sort of stuff. Where on earth had that come from?

It was well after midnight—well past the time for him to leave—and yet he'd stayed. He didn't know why, but he couldn't bear to wake her. He just wasn't ready to go yet.

The phone rang, jarring him from his musings. Who would be calling her this late at night?

Shannon didn't even move.

Without thinking, Nate grabbed the phone which was on the end table next to him.

“Hello?” he asked in a hushed whisper.