Authors: Erin Nicholas
Kat outright laughed then. “Honey, enjoy it. There are women who can’t get pregnant who would give everything they have to be in your position.”
“I know.” Sabrina was grateful that the baby was healthy. She was even excited every once in awhile. But there were as many moments when she was scared to death.
“So, I heard a rumor today,” Kat said conversationally.
“Yes, it’s true. I’m pregnant.”
“And engaged.”
“Eng— How did you hear that?”
“So he really did ask you.”
“Can you believe it?”
Kat’s voice was soft when she said, “Yes. I can.”
“For the record, I didn’t panic and beg him to marry me or anything. I’m trying to consider this like a responsible adult. This needs to be a carefully thought out decision…” Sabrina frowned as she noticed the three boxes on the bottom shelf. Breast pumps. Oh, boy.
“No, you wouldn’t have to beg.”
“What do you mean?”
“Come on Sabrina. It’s like Christmas morning and Luke’s birthday all rolled in to one.”
“It is? Because I’m coming home?” Wow that was—
“Coming home pregnant and pathetic.”
Crappy.
“Excuse me?” Sabrina forgot all about breast pumps, cracked nipples, prenatal vitamins and everything else.
“You know what I mean,” Kat said with that no-nonsense tone Sabrina usually appreciated. “You’re giving him not just one person to take care of but two. An automatic family. A reason to put up a frickin’ white picket fence, buy a swing set and get a dog.”
Sabrina swallowed, trying not to feel itchy. It was weird how Justice made her itch sometimes. Like she couldn’t sit still, couldn’t get comfortable.
“He’s great. I wouldn’t ever have to worry about anything. He wants to do this and I’d be crazy to say no,” she told Kat.
“Yeah, you probably would.” Kat sounded resigned.
But Sabrina was sure it was that she was concerned. Luke was her friend too and she didn’t want anyone getting hurt.
Sabrina would be crazy to not jump on all he was offering, to not appreciate everything that was available to her here, to not realize that there were thousands of women who would trade places with her in a heartbeat. A comfortable small town with good friends and neighbors, a secure and fairly significant financial situation, a home, in-laws she adored and a man who would take care of her as long as they both would live.
If she wanted to leave this, daydreamed about anything else, considered that there was anything more, she’d be crazy. And undeserving. And irresponsible. And selfish.
All of the things she’d always feared were true.
Chapter Eight
Sabrina wished she could get drunk.
She’d been back in Justice for two weeks and she knew that everyone was whispering behind her back.
She knew they were wondering what had happened in the past four years. She knew that they’d heard rumors about something going on between her and Luke. She was pretty sure they were noticing that she was putting on weight. And eating everything in sight.
And it was stressing her out.
Then there was the letter she’d received three days ago.
The roommate who had remained in Sabrina’s apartment in Seattle had finally forwarded her mail.
Right on top had been a letter from the singing competition, Next Stop Nashville.
Sabrina had read it two hundred times a day since she’d first torn it open and seen
Congratulations
.
She’d won one of the twenty spots in the competition based on the demo tape she’d sent in before she’d known she was pregnant. Or broke. She had to get there on her own, which obviously wasn’t going to happen, baby or not. Her first paycheck from The Camelot had been nice, but would hardly pay for groceries, maternity pants
and
a plane ticket and motel room in Nashville.
She wondered if Marc’s offer still stood. Would he still pay to send her to Nashville? Maybe, but it would be a one-way ticket, which was definitely a tempting, but really bad idea.
Much like Marc himself.
She saw him every day. Repeatedly. She saw him more than Luke. Almost like he was intentionally seeking her out. And it was making her crazy.
She liked him. She looked forward to seeing
him
. She wanted to have dinner with
him
.
And she
really
wanted to kiss him some more. Nothing had happened since the day in Kat’s foyer but it seemed like every time she saw him she wanted him more.
She was so screwed.
And not in a good way.
“How about a Long Slow One?”
Sabrina snapped out of her thoughts as someone ordered a final drink before they closed. It was one of her own concoctions. She was having fun with that at least. She shoved the letter under the edge of the blender and reached for a glass.
“A Long Slow One?” The deep voice tumbled down her spine like a staircase, goose bumps rippling out and down her limbs. Marc had come behind the bar when she wasn’t looking.
“Want one?” she asked, turning to face him.
She loved—loved, loved, loved—the sexual innuendos and teasing between them. It seemed constant. There was a current between them whenever they were in close proximity and neither of them shied away from it.
Which was stupid, but apparently unavoidable.
“I’d be crazy to say no to that wouldn’t I?”
He gave her the grin that always made her think
Take me now.
“Definitely,” she said with a smile. “But you should know that the Hard and Fast is another option.”
“Now we’re talking’.” He moved in as if to simply pass behind her but his chest brushed her upper back and his hand slid across her hip and right butt cheek as he did. “What’s in it?”
“The most important ingredient is cinnamon schnapps.”
The next millisecond she realized what she’d admitted. Marc chewed cinnamon gum. All the time. His kisses were always cinnamon flavored and yes, that had come to mind as she invented the drink. And its name.
“I love cinnamon,” he said gruffly. “The Hard and Fast sounds good to me.”
She turned to face him, wanting to see his eyes as she said, “I personally like it better than the Long Slow One.”
“Should I say that doesn’t surprise me or act like I haven’t thought about how you like…your drinks?”
Breathing. That was what she was forgetting.
She sucked in a long breath. “I’m not sure what you should say.”
“Doesn’t matter what I say,” he said, his voice low. “I still wonder about it.”
“Now you know.”
“I won’t forget, either.”
God, what was she doing? She wasn’t even flirting with the man who’d proposed, but she was basically telling his best friend exactly how she’d like him to take her.
The urge to kiss him was nearly overpowering. “You have to stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Being so…all of this.”
“Sexy?” he suggested with a grin. “Hot? Hard to resist?”
She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t stop her smile. “Yes. All of it.”
“You think I’m hard to resist?” He sounded surprised.
“Isn’t that obvious?”
His smile changed from cocky to something much warmer. Her entire body felt it.
“It’s really, really fun, isn’t it?” he asked.
It really, really was. But she couldn’t shake the weirdness of it. This was Marc after all. Marc who had come to Wyoming to keep her away from Luke…
And that was what was bugging her.
“You’re very attentive for a guy who doesn’t like me much.”
“Until a couple of weeks ago, I didn’t like you at all.”
“Thanks for clarifying. And for making my point.”
“You’re wondering why I’m suddenly so…”
“Attentive is the word I’m most comfortable with.”
He chuckled. “Okay, you’re wondering why I’m suddenly so attentive.”
She wasn’t sure she wanted the answer to her next question. “Because you don’t want me with Luke?”
He crossed his arms and leaned his hip against the back counter. “I
don’t
want you with Luke.”
“Are you trying to make him look bad?” She regretted it as soon as she’d said it.
He looked very interested in that. “What does that mean?”
She shook her head. “Never mind. Forget it.”
She started to move past him, but he caught her arm and pulled her around to face him.
“I’m making him look bad?”
“You’re not trying?”
“Dammit, Seattle.” He hadn’t let go of her yet and he pulled her closer. He sounded intent rather than annoyed. “Tell me how I’m making him look bad.”
“You’re making me want you more than I want him.”
He looked pleased and turned-on in equal parts. Then he frowned. “You want him?”
“I’d be stupid not to.”
Something flared in Marc’s eyes. Jealousy? Possessiveness? That was wishful thinking. She shook it off.
He stroked his hand up and down her arm, watching the movement. Then he looked into her eyes.
“Has he asked you again?”
“To marry him?”
Marc clenched his jaw before saying tightly, “Yeah.”
“No. He’s just been sweet. And attentive. He’s always bringing me stuff—flowers and muffins and tea—and asking how I am. He bought me a rocking chair.”
Marc rolled his eyes. “Of course he did.”
“What do you mean?”
“He doesn’t get it.”
“Get what?”
“What he should be doing to win you over.”
“What should he be doing?” She was
very
interested in Marc’s opinion on this.
He moved in a little closer. “He should be telling you that you are the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. That he passes by as close to you as possible whenever he can just to smell your hair. That when you laugh it makes him want to French kiss you up against the wall. He should buy you something you’d really appreciate—like cinnamon massage lotion. That he could lick off, slowly and thoroughly, after rubbing it all over your body.”
She swallowed hard. “I don’t think you’re supposed to eat lotion.”
“Edible massage lotion is made to be eaten.”
At the word
eaten
she had to press her inner thighs together.
Damn.
He gave her a lazy, sexy smile and continued to hold her arm, but his eyes went to something over her shoulder.
She glanced back and saw Luke heading for them from across the room.
Luke. The guy who’d given her the rocking chair. The rocking chair she was going to use for
the baby
. Should pregnant women really be getting edible massages anyway?
“Maybe the best way to keep you away from him is to marry you myself,” Marc muttered.
She swung to face him, shock vibrating through her bones. Uh, oh. That shouldn’t be so scary. Or tempting. It should be funny. Because the idea of Marc proposing to her was ridiculous.
“Yeah, right.” She tried,
really
tried, to sound flippant.
“Why not?” He was studying her. “What does he have that I don’t? I have my own business—the same one, incidentally. I live in a great little town—the same one, incidentally. I have a wonderful family who loves you—the same one, incidentally.” He shrugged. “Seems like the only thing that makes me different from Luke is that you want me.”
She closed her eyes and shook her head. This was beyond ridiculous. This was…torture.
“People have affairs all the time,” she said.
“You’d rather have an affair with me after you marry Luke?”
Her eyes flew open. She couldn’t believe how wound up she felt. Like she’d taken a shot of caffeine straight to her heart. “I meant marrying you doesn’t ensure I’ll leave Luke alone.”
Marc moved in, filling the space around her completely. She couldn’t look away from his dark green eyes, hot and swirling with emotion. “I promise you that if you were in my bed every night, there’s absolutely no way you would want to—or have the energy to—mess around with anyone else.”
Oh, God, she believed him.
She swallowed, closed her eyes to tear her from his gaze, took a deep breath. “It would kill Luke if we were together.”
She felt Marc’s hand fall away from her. She opened her eyes and saw the pained look on his face.
“Yeah, I know,” he said quietly.
Before she could say anything—though she had no idea what it would have been anyway—she felt Luke behind her.
“Sabrina.”
Marc didn’t move away from her and she had to step back as she turned to face Luke. He was the one she should be concentrating on. He was the one she should be flirting with. He was the one she should be trading sexual innuendos with.
Making a guy like Luke happy wasn’t exactly difficult. Or shouldn’t be, anyway. He found pleasure in fairly simple things. He was the type of guy who would rather sit on the couch and watch a rented DVD on a Saturday night than sit in the most expensive seats for a sold out Broadway show. He was the type of guy who would have more fun pulling his kids through the zoo in a wagon than he would traveling across Europe in first-class accommodations.
He loved that everyone knew everything about him. He loved that he was never truly alone. He believed that having his actions and decisions affect those around him made him part of something. Something he wanted.
“Finish cleaning the bar for her,” he said to Marc, staring right at her.
It was closing time. The final patrons were on their way to the front doors and the wait staff was clearing the rest of the tables.
“Seattle—” Marc started.
But Luke grabbed her hand and pulled her away from him quickly.
She probably needed to do a lot more of that, moving away from Marc. The feelings he stirred up in her were not conducive to feeling things for Luke.
She followed Luke down the hall. She wasn’t sure what to say to him. He’d seen how close she and Marc had been standing if nothing else. Finally they stepped into his office and she turned to face him bravely. “Luke, we need to talk.” She should tell him about Marc. She should tell him they’d kissed. She probably wouldn’t tell him the rest—that wouldn’t serve much purpose—but he needed to know about the kiss.
Probably.
“I agree.”
“You do?” Her heart thudded in her chest.
Did he already know that she and Marc were messing around? She didn’t want to hurt him. This was Luke. She cared about him, loved him even.