A Baby...Maybe? & How to Hunt a Husband (21 page)

“Who is this?” a female voice asked.

“Who are you trying to reach?” he countered.

“Shannon. Shannon O'Malley.”

“She's sleeping right now. Could I take a message?”

“Is this Bull?”

“Yes,” he answered slowly.

Who was this? He was sure it wasn't Mrs. O'Malley. He'd recognize her voice. “With whom am I speaking?”

“
With whom?
That's pretty classy speech for a biker. I'm Shannon's sister, Kate, by the way.”

“Ah, Kate. The runaway bride.” He kept his voice soft, not wanting to wake Shannon.

“She told you?” Kate asked, surprise evident in her voice, even through a phone line.

“You'd be surprised how much she's told me,” Nate said.

He wasn't sure if he was supposed to carry out his act for Shannon's sister, but he wasn't going to take a chance. If she wanted to explain their relationship and ruse later, that was up to her.

“Well, she hasn't mentioned you to me,” Kate said.

If he wasn't mistaken, she was annoyed now.

He grinned. “I'm not surprised. We've only known each other a short time.”

But it didn't feel like a short time. Other than their short awkward period tonight, Nate felt as if he'd known Shannon a long time. A very long time.

“Tell me about yourself,” Kate said. “I got a
phone call from my mother, all frantic that Shannon brought you to dinner. You've got Mom totally distressed, you know. Something's up.”

“I don't know what you mean. I'd give the phone to Shannon and let her answer your questions, but she's sleeping. Would you like me to leave her a message?”

“You're answering her phone after midnight because she's sleeping?” Kate asked slowly. “That in itself says a lot. No, don't leave a message. I'll call back tomorrow.”

“Great. Good night.”

He started to set the receiver back on the charger when he heard Kate say, “Hey, Bull?”

He put the phone back to his ear. “Yes?”

“If you hurt her, you'll be mincemeat.” Her voice was serious. Very serious. “Shannon likes the world to think she's tough, but underneath all her bravado, she's not so tough at all. She's totally soft and vulnerable. I won't have you toying with her.”

“Thanks for the warning,” he said.

“I mean it.”

“I know.” He paused and added, “It was nice talking to you, Kate.”

“It was interesting talking to you, Bull.”

He hung up and glanced at the woman still sleeping in his arms. The video had turned itself off and there was some late-night infomercial about some kitchen appliance on the television.

Nate didn't need to slice or dice anything bad enough to pay $29.99 for it.

He should go.

It was late.

And yet, he didn't move. He went back to studying Shannon and wondering what he was doing here, and why he was so reluctant to leave.

 

S
UNLIGHT TICKLED
its way beneath Shannon's eyelids, rousing her slowly from whatever she'd been dreaming about.

It was one of those gray, gauzy sort of dreams that she couldn't quite pinpoint, but she did know that it had left her feeling warm. Not in a heat sort of way, but in a comfortable sort of way.

She lay in that fuzzy state between sleep and wakefulness and realized something wasn't right.

She kept her eyes closed and tried to decide just what was amiss through her sleep-fuzzed brain.

It took a minute to realize what was out of place. That it wasn't a pillow cushioning her head. No, it was something harder, warmer. Something that rose and fell in a rhythmic sort of way. Something like…

A body.

More specifically, her head was cushioned on someone's chest.

Her eyes popped open as the realization struck with full force. She was on the couch in her living room sleeping on Nathan Calder's chest.

How had that happened?

The night came flooding back at full force.

They'd put one over on her mother, come home, talked about kissing and a casual dating relationship, then watched
The Terminator.
Only she didn't remember the end of the movie. She remembered sharing popcorn and sitting next to him….

And now she'd spent the night with him.

She grinned.

Oh, that would twist her mom's skirt.

She chuckled at the thought. It was enough to shake Nate from his sleep. She felt the change in his breathing pattern and knew he was awake before his eyes even opened.

“Good morning,” she said brightly.

He sat up and pulled back, distancing himself from her. “Shannon, I'm so sorry. I meant to get up and go right after the movie, but you were sleeping so peacefully, then your sister called—”

“My sister? Kate called here?”

“And we talked for a while, then I was going to go, but I sat a moment and next thing I knew…well, this was the next thing I knew. I'm sorry.”

“Nate, it's okay.”

“No, it isn't. I've…” he paused, obviously searching for the word. “Imposed. Yeah, imposed. I didn't mean to.”

“Nate, really it's fine.” She didn't want to tell him that she sort of enjoyed waking up next to him. That she liked the warmth of his body. She could
tell him there was something rather comfortable about snuggling next to him. She could, but she wouldn't.

She simply repeated, “It's okay.”

“But—”

“No harm, no foul. I mean, it's not as if you compromised my virtue.” She didn't add that compromising with Nate was starting to look sort of appealing.

She sat up and ran her fingers through her hair, knowing that
appealing
wasn't quite the word she'd use to describe her morning look.

“I guess you're right,” he said slowly. “After all, I didn't even kiss you, so your virtue is still very much intact.”

“There you go. See, no problem. Tell you what, if you give me a couple minutes to grab a shower, I'll even play hostess and offer you breakfast.”

“Yeah?” he asked with a grin.

“Yeah.”

“Does your hospitality extend to letting me grab a shower as well?”

“I'm pretty sure that the book on etiquette my mother gave me when I turned sixteen would demand that I—”

“Offer a guest a shower?” he filled in.

“Yeah.”

Nate laughed. “You're nuts. Go get your shower and I'll make myself at home. I'll even make the coffee since you're making the breakfast.”

“Oh, you are a true gentleman, Bull.”

“Yeah, Roxy, I try.”

Shannon scampered off to get her shower and Nate watched her disappear down the hall.

He'd just spent his first night with her.

And he realized he didn't want it to be the last night they spent together. Not that he was looking for anything permanent, nothing like his mother envisioned. But more nights with Shannon, that he could handle.

Nate poked around in her kitchen, locating the coffee in the freezer and the filters in the cupboard over the coffee maker. It was a small kitchen, bright, without all the loud colors his mother favored. No, this was softer with a lot of whites and pale yellows.

It suited Shannon.

He'd just got the coffee ready and had pushed the button to start it when he heard the front door open.

“Shannon?” a voice called.

A voice Nate recognized immediately.

Well, Shannon wanted her mother to believe they were an item, and it appeared she was going to get that wish answered in spades.

He walked out of the kitchen into the living room where a very annoyed-looking Mrs. O'Malley stood.

“I saw your motorcycle in the drive,” she said, disapproval evident in her voice.

“Yeah. I didn't plan on staying the night or I'd've put it in the garage. I don't like letting my baby stay outside all night.”

Last night Mrs. O'Malley had been knocked off guard, but she'd had time to regroup. Her stance would do a three-star general proud. Her tone left no doubt that she was back in control. “Where is my daughter?”

“In the shower. I was just making coffee. Could I offer you a cup?”

“No. I'm on my way to Mass and stopped to see if Shannon wanted to join me.”

“Want me to go ask her?” he asked, smiling as if he didn't have a clue why she'd take offense at the question.

Mrs. O'Malley sputtered a moment, looking as if she'd swallowed a cow whole. “I…I don't think so. Tell her I'll call her later.”

“Sure thing.”

“And Bull?” Mrs. O'Malley said, moving a few steps closer.

“Yes, ma'am?”

“If you hurt her, you'll be mincemeat.”

Some of the humor left the situation. Nate raked a hand through his hair. “You're the second O'Malley to tell me that in less than twenty-four hours. What is it that makes you all think Shannon couldn't take care of me herself if I hurt her?”

Her sister and mother might not think so, but Nate suspected Shannon was more than capable of
standing up for herself. From what he could see, all the O'Malley women were formidable.

“Shannon's too soft-hearted for her own good,” her mother said. “She believes in fairy tales. I think that's why she enjoyed planning her sister's wedding so much. But I know that romance isn't enough. That people need more than a good shot of lust to make a relationship work. I don't think the two of you could possibly have that much in common. Odds are, this will end badly. I don't want her hurt.”

“And yet, you're willing to see her married off just to win a bet,” Nate said gently.

Mrs. O'Malley heaved a sigh and shook her head. “No. I want to see her married off because Shannon is the type of person who's meant to be married. She needs someone to love, someone who in turn will love her to distraction. This bet…well, it simply presented an excuse to introduce her around.”

“Someone to take care of her, you mean?”

“I say what I mean, young man.” Mrs. O'Malley's voice was once again sharp and in command. “I raised both of my daughters to be able to take care of themselves, but I also think life is more meaningful if you share it with someone.”

She paused a moment and added, “Do you think you're the man Shannon should be sharing her life with?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. But I know that none
of the guys you've set her up with are him,” Nate said.

“So do I.”

Her admission surprised him. “And yet, you continue to do it.”

“In hopes that the next man would be the right man. The one she's been waiting for.”

“And you're sure I'm not him?” he asked.

“As sure as I can be. Shannon needs a good guy. Someone who will come home every night after work. She needs the little things, trading stories about their days, eating a quiet meal together. Something as simple as watching a movie together. Someone with common interests. I don't think that's you.”

“Maybe you're right,” Nate said. “Maybe I'm not her Mr. Right, but I am her Mr. Right-now, so I'll thank you to forget about setting her up with anyone else for a while.”

“Fine,” Mrs. O'Malley said with a short nod. “Tell her I'll talk to her later.”

“Sure.”

She started toward the door, then abruptly turned around. “And Bull, remember what I said.”

“Don't worry, I don't intend to hurt her.”

Mrs. O'Malley turned and left, shutting the front door with a soft thud.

Nate went back to the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee for himself as he pondered his confrontation with Shannon's mom.

Mrs. O'Malley was right. From the little Nate knew about her, Shannon was special. He'd known it that first night in Mick's bar. And now, having spent time with her, he was even more convinced.

He thought—

“Hey, a man who makes me coffee in the morning, that's my kind of man,” Shannon said, as she came into the kitchen, her hair still wet. She was wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Her feet were bare. She didn't have a speck of makeup on.

She looked as far removed from Roxy as a woman could.

And yet, this look was ever so much sexier.

He forced himself not to think about how much sexier as he handed her a mug of coffee.

“I believe you said something about breakfast,” he reminded her.

She grinned. “Sure did.”

“So what are you making me?” he asked.

“Nothing. We're going to get on your motorcycle, and drive down the street to Perkins. There, I plan to order a huge stack of pancakes, and drown them in syrup. How about you?”

“So, I made the coffee, and you're allowing me to take you to Perkins?”

“Hey, it's my treat.”

“I wanted to try your cooking,” he said. “After growing up with my mother, well, let's just say, I like to know how a woman cooks right up front.”

“In this case, you don't.”

“That bad?” he asked.

“Uh, you know your mom's roast the other night? That looked good in comparison.”

“Thanks for the warning then. Perkins it is.”

“I thought you might see it that way,” she said with a laugh.

“Do you mind if I get that shower before we go?”

“Help yourself.”

“Thanks.”

“And Nate?” she called as he started toward the bathroom.

“Yeah?”

“I'm glad you spent the night.”

“Me, too,” he said, then turned and hurried down the hall. He liked being here with Shannon, liked holding her last night.

He just plain liked her.

And he didn't have a clue what to do about it.

S
HANNON HELD
the phone away from her ear and looked at it, as if it could provide some answers.

She put it back to her ear, and said, “The dress?”

“Yes. I need that dress back. When you get married, you'll have to find your own dress. I've decided Mary Kathryn's—”

“Kate,” Shannon corrected automatically.

“Kate's dress doesn't suit you.”

She'd won.

Her mother might be saying the dress doesn't suit, but what she meant was that Bull didn't suit.

Her mom was done trying to marry Shannon off to just any man.

Shannon was free and clear.

Why wasn't she feeling elated?

“Honey, I want you to find the right man when the time's right. You don't have to rush anything.”

“What about the bet?”

“Don't you worry about that. I love you and just want you to be happy.”

“Mom,” Shannon said. She sniffed.

A moment.

She'd just had
a moment
with her mother.

“Mom,” she said again.

Brigit O'Malley was not one for big demonstrations. “Get that dress ready. I'll pick it up later.”

“About Bull,” Shannon said, ready to confess all, to tell her mother her nefarious plan.

“Not one more word. This was a good conversation and I'll not have it ruined by fighting about your boyfriend. I'll stop by later this week and pick up the dress,” she said, hanging up abruptly.

Shannon was victorious!

Her mom was off her back.

She could let the hair on her legs grow so long she would be able to braid it.

She could go on a week-long chick-flick fest.

There was a world of opportunities in front of her.

But what she really wanted to do was call Nate and share her victory.

Truth be told, she'd wanted to call him after he'd dropped her off on Sunday. She thought about calling to say hi. Maybe to see how the ride home had gone.

Had he stalled the motorcycle?

But she didn't call. Didn't want him to think she was reading more into their
casual
relationship than he was.

She didn't call and hoped he would.

He didn't.

He didn't call Monday either.

Neither did she.

As much as she wanted to call him, she just couldn't. She must have picked up the phone a dozen times, but always slammed it back down.

She wasn't sure why it was so hard to call him. She had the perfect excuse, to share the news about her mom. But she didn't call, and neither did he.

Wednesday was a repeat performance. Look at the phone. Think about calling. Even go so far as to pick up the phone. Set it back down. Don't call.

Thursday she didn't pick up the phone at all. Oh, she thought about it, but since he hadn't called her, she wasn't about to call him.

She realized just how juvenile she was, but wasn't able to stop herself. Something about Nate made her feel as if she was back in high school, giggling with girlfriends over boys.

Friday she woke up with a light heart. She and Nate were having dinner at his mom's again tonight. She'd see him after school.

She practically danced through the day. Even Robbie Pembrooke, a student who could try the patience of a saint, couldn't faze her happiness.

Of course, she did inform him that graffiti didn't qualify as an art project…at least not in her class. She made him miss math—his favorite class—to clean his “project” off the side of the school and write a letter of apology to Mrs. Appleton, who, to the best of Shannon's knowledge, did not, nor ever had had an affair with the janitor.

No, even Robbie Pembrooke couldn't faze her good mood.

Shannon noticed that Robbie had stopped scrubbing and was simply standing in front of the wall.

“Robbie,” Shannon hollered.

He turned and said, “My arm's killing me,” with that teenaged whine that would one day grow into a fine man-whine.

“Tough,” she said.

The boy turned back and started scrubbing again. And Shannon smiled.

“You look awfully happy,” her friend, Patricia, said, as she took a seat next to Shannon on the bench. “So, what's up?”

“Maybe it's just a happy sort of day. It is Friday, after all.”

Patricia shook her head. “I know a Friday-smile when I see one, and this is something more.”

“Well, it just so happens I have a date.”

She didn't admit that it wasn't exactly a date.

“Oooh, do tell. Does it involve candlelight and a new outfit?”

“Yes, to the new outfit.” Shannon had gone shopping yesterday and was pretty sure her outfit was going to scandalize Nathan's mom.

Yes, one look at those pants and Mrs. Calder was going to be so scandalized she'd beg Nate to stop dating Roxy.

The thought should have made her feel victorious, but instead, she felt a bit let down.

“Yes, new clothes, but not candlelight. Just a quiet dinner. Not much to tell. Just me, on a date.”

“That's it?” Patricia asked, sounding a bit skeptical.

“Yep.”

“Hmm,” Patricia said, studying her.

“Robbie, you missed a spot,” Shannon called, ignoring Patricia's scrutiny. She smiled as Robbie grumbled, not because he grumbled, but because she was going to see Nate in just a few hours.

“So, how are the kids?” she asked. And even as she listened to Patricia talk about her kids, she couldn't help but smile.

She'd see Nate tonight.

 

“O
H
, S
HANNON
, dear, I'm so sorry,” Mrs. Calder said as they entered the house that evening.

Shannon didn't have to ask just what it was Mrs. Calder was sorry for. There was a distinct smell of burnt—well, she wasn't sure just what it was, but whatever it had been, it was charcoal now.

“I made the most lovely veal for dinner—”

Ah, veal, that's what it was.

“—but there must be something wrong with my oven.”

“Or with your cooking,” Nate muttered low enough so that only Shannon caught it.

She stifled the laughter that bubbled just below the surface. She'd felt giddy since Nate had shown up on her doorstep. He was wearing jeans and a polo shirt…looking positively good enough to eat.

“That's okay, Mrs. Calder,” she assured Nathan's mom. “Really.”

“No, dear, I promised you dinner and you're getting dinner. Why, I don't imagine you get to eat right at the club you work at. I think they're more interested in drinking than good food. So, let's go.”

“Go?” Shannon echoed, realizing that this burnt meal could be a problem.

A big problem.

“We're going out to eat.” Mrs. Calder started to gather her purse.

“But…” Shannon looked down at tonight's exotic-dancer outfit.

Tight pseudo-leather—pleather—pants, a bright-red blouse and stiletto black heels. Add to that that she'd slicked her hair back with goop and piled on the makeup, and she definitely didn't want to go out in public looking like this.

“But…” she stammered.

Nate hadn't said a word. She elbowed him hard and looked from him to her outfit, then back at him. She saw the dawning of understanding on his face.

“Mom, really, that's okay,” he said in a rush. “We'll come back to dinner tomorrow, and you can try again.”

“Ah, son, I know you love my cooking.”

Nate shot Shannon a look and she knew exactly what he was thinking…his mom was the worst cook alive.

“But, really darling,” Mrs. Calder continued. “I
enjoy a night off now and then as well. So, let's go.”

“Pizza,” Nate said. “Let's just order in pizza.”

“Now, will you two stop fighting? We're eating out. Paul,” she hollered.

Shannon didn't have to be her child to realize that was that. Mrs. Calder wasn't going to be dissuaded.

Mr. Calder ambled into the foyer. “Shannon. How nice to see you again. I assume you heard about our change of plans.”

Nate nodded. “Where do you want us to meet you?”

“I was hoping we could all ride together,” his mom said.

“You don't like my motorcycle,” Nate accused.

“It's not that…” his mom started, then shrugged. “Okay, it is that. I don't like it. And if you were to crash on the way out to dinner, I'd never get over the guilt. You'd be maimed because I can't cook. You don't want to put your mother through something like that, do you? After all, you're the only child I could have and the suffering I went through to get you…why, you couldn't willingly subject me to any more, could you?”

“Mom, that's ridiculous. I'm a grown man and—”

“We'd love to ride with you, Mrs. Calder,” Shannon interrupted.

“Thank you, dear, for understanding.”

“No problem.”

His parents walked out the door and toward the Calder's blue sedan.

Nate hung back and held Shannon back as well. “Why did you do that?” he whispered.

“Because she worries about you. There's nothing wrong with that.”

“Not when it's my mom doing the worrying,” he said, obviously put out. “But when it's your mom, then it's another story.”

“My mom doesn't worry. She bosses. There's a difference,” Shannon said.

“She bosses you around because she's worried about you,” Nate countered.

“Since when did you become and expert on my mother?”

“Let's just say that maybe I have a bit more objective insight than you do.”

“Let's not and have you explain.”

“Just leave it alone, Shannon.”

“Are you two coming?” Nate's mom called from the car. She paused and said, “Is something wrong?”

“No, of course not,” Shannon said as she shook her arm free of Nate and walked toward the car.

“Good,” she said with a smile. “Then we're off.”

 

N
ATE POKED
at his dinner salad as he listened to Shannon and his mother chatter away happily.

Shannon was making a mess of things again. His
mother seemed to enjoy her as much tonight as she had last week. At the rate Shannon was going, he was going to be married off and the father of four.

Somehow the thought didn't send the familiar jolt of terror down his spine. Not that he was thinking of marrying Shannon. But if he had to get married, she'd be number one on his list.

And thinking he'd even have a list of women he'd marry totally freaked him out and he kicked her leg under the table and shot her a get-on-with-it-already look.

He knew she caught the gist of his meaning because she winked at him and said, “I've been thinking about changing jobs.”

“Really, dear, that would be wonderful. Not that what you do for a living affects our opinion of you. After all, you're such a sweet and caring young lady.”

“Why, thank you, Mrs. Calder.” Shannon smiled sweetly at the praise.

Of course, the loud red color she'd painted on her lips should have made smiling sweetly very difficult, but Shannon pulled it off.

“So what are you thinking about doing?” his mom asked.

“I'm going to—”

“Shannon, it is you,” someone interrupted her.

Nate looked up and saw a petite brunette and a tall skinny man standing next to their table.

“Patricia?” Shannon said weakly. She glanced down and blushed.

Nate realized that she obviously knew the couple, and it was just as obvious that she was embarrassed to be caught in her Roxy get-up.

“What are you two doing here? And where are the kids?” Shannon asked.

“Kyle was sweet enough to invite me to dinner and I left the kids with a sitter. Are you going to introduce us?” Patricia asked.

Shannon smiled, and Nate suspected he was the only one who noticed how forced it was.

“Patricia Leonard and Kyle Bruno, this is Nate Calder and his parents, Paul and Judy.”

“These are your friends from work, dear?” Mrs. Calder asked.

Nate suddenly realized that these were the friends she'd based her little strip-club stories on and suppressed a groan.

Their plans were about to tank, all because his mother was a lousy cook.

He knew what he was getting her for Christmas…cooking lessons. She didn't have to be a cordon bleu chef, but man, you'd think at her age she could broil a hunk of meat without ruining all his plans in the process.

He'd be the first man in history forced to walk down the aisle because of a burnt meal.

“Why, Shannon,” his mother said, “you didn't
tell us Candy here was dating Bruno. That's wonderful.”

“Candy?” Patricia asked.

“She prefers to be called Patricia,” Shannon corrected.

This time Nate didn't try to suppress his groan. No, he let it out, knowing that if his mother noticed it would be the least of their worries.

Shannon had told his mom that Patricia stripped under the name Candy and of course his mom—the woman who could forget about dinner until the smoke alarms went off—didn't forget little things like Shannon's fictional account of her fictional job at the fictional strip club using her real colleagues' fictional stripping names.

“How come you didn't tell me you two were dating?” Shannon said.

Nate could tell she was trying to head off further questions from her friends, but he could have told her that the way his luck was going, it wasn't going to work.

“We didn't really want anyone to know,” Patricia said. “It's all so new and you know how it is at work. Everyone knows everyone's business.”

“Tell me about it,” Shannon muttered.

Nate could tell she was thinking about everyone at school knowing this particular business on Monday.

It occurred to him that reading her was getting
easier and easier, and he wasn't quite sure how he felt about that.