Having Nathan's Baby (2 page)

“Yeah
... I’m fine.” I smiled despite myself. Swallowing, I wished the crowds around me weren’t so loud. “Listen, Nathan-”

“You want to meet up after the concert?” His voice thrummed with promise.

“About that...” My breath caught. “I’m at the backstage door, actually.”

“You’re
here?” He sounded surprised, but not displeased.

“I was hoping they’d pass a message along to you but they said my name needs to be on the list-”

“Yeah, we’re being pretty strict with access these days,” he said. I heard some background noise on his side. “Listen, don’t move. I’ll get a message to the door.”

“Okay, thanks.”

There was a pause. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said.

I
lowered the phone from my ear.  Pressing the red button to close the connection, I stopped and stared out at the russet afternoon. Shapes meshed in front of my eyes, mere suggestions of people. I felt the weight of the moment like a boulder on my chest. I glanced down, my vision still hazy on the details. All this worrying and fretting ... it struck me with the force that this was really Nathan’s baby; perhaps a miniature of him, a little brown-eyed boy born with a musical gift. Maybe it was a miniature of me, a bright, feisty girl who wanted to take on the world. Breathless, I held my hand to my still flat stomach, aware of a fluttering inside.

The phone slipped from
my hand, clattered on the concrete.

“I thought I told you to get to the back of the queue.” The gravelly voice
brushed across my reverie like sandpaper on tender skin. “You’d better not be yankin’ my chain, sweet cheeks.”

The feeling of well-being scuttled away and a heavy emotional
barrier slammed down. Bending, I retrieved the phone and gave the bouncer my best barracuda impression. “They’re adding my name to the list.” My voice didn’t come out as strongly as I’d intended.

“I’ll believe that when I see it.”

He believed it around five minutes later. Without apology, he pulled me by the arm through the complaining crowds and propelled me into a fairly empty hallway behind the doors. Fumbling with my case, I yanked my shoulder bag into place and then smoothed my hair. Jeans-clad men with headpieces ran by me occasionally. The roar of the crowd outside in the auditorium was already feverishly loud. Taking a deep breath, I followed the signs for backstage, my heels clipping on the concrete.

A man with a headpiece finally located
me just as I’d reached the rear stage area. “Chloe, right?” He grinned, giving me a once over. “He told me to look for the best-looking lawyer in the auditorium.”

My
laugh was quick and a little more high-pitched than usual. “That’s a backhanded compliment if ever I heard one.”

“Follow me
,” he said, already on the move. “Nate’s just getting ready. You’ve got around ten minutes before the band starts to setup.”

Ten minutes! Could
I tell him so quickly? I formed an ‘oh’ with my mouth and exhaled slowly as I followed the man with the headpiece. My heels echoed down the curved hallways. This was crazy; I couldn’t tell Nathan he was about to be a father before his band went on stage at Madison Square Garden. He wasn’t exactly on stage performing but he was expected to be there, to be present. He might have a meltdown once I told him … I’d have to arrange to meet him later. We could have a quiet drink somewhere intimate; somewhere he could have a reaction in private. I needed to give him time to go through the whole process without interruption.

My
stomach fluttered again. A wave of emotion dragged through me like a rake. I would have done a deal with the devil to be anywhere but here right now.

“You okay?”

Noticing my guide again, I shifted my features into what I hoped was a nonchalant expression. “I’m fine. Is this it?”

“
Sure is. Just go on in. He’s all yours.”

Chapter Two

I opened the door and entered a dimly-lit room. There was a dressing area, and a sofa and chairs in the centre of the space. Nathan was facing away from the door. He was on the phone. Wearing only jeans, his lean body was a mass of warring muscles and taut flesh. Old and familiar tattoos decorated his back and his arms, greeting me like long-remembered photos. I was taken back to a place many years ago, a slow, lazy afternoon in a Parisian tattoo parlor, eons before my career had kick-started and during his first tour with the band. The tattoo artist had smelled of coffee and cigarettes and his hands had shaken as he’d painted the symbol on Nathan’s lower back. The Celtic tree of life symbol, a small homage Nathan had decided to pay to my ancestry after I had forbidden him from tattooing my name into his skin, was artfully jagged.  The sheer intensity of the carefree memory hit me with the impact of a blow to my stomach; the breath left me in a slow, painful trickle.

What
was I doing? Giving myself a mental kick, I straightened my back and tightened my grip on my laptop case. This was ridiculous ... sentimental bullshit. Thank God he hadn’t seen me yet. His hair fell across his profile; I could only make out the shadow of his firm jaw, set in steel. I still had a second or so to recover composure. I had to remember my own life in all of this. It was all very well wallowing in sentiment, in love, but having this child was a massive commitment. His life would go on regardless, and would probably become richer than ever. I would be forced to compromise, not Nathan. I hardened myself towards him. This discussion required control.

I
stilled. My consciousness replayed the hectic, emotional outburst I’d just experienced in my head. Love? Had I just admitted love ... for Nathan?

“
Chloe.”

I
flinched.

“You made it.” He jumped to his feet.
He was over six-foot and he towered over me as he approached. Leaning in to kiss my cheek, he caught my shoulders in a light clasp.

I
gripped my case through the gloves. I caught his scent. Clearly just out of the shower, it was soapy and masculine, and very familiar.  His stubble rasped the soft skin on my cheek, his hair offering a contrasting sensation as it brushed my forehead. His lips were warm and soft on my skin.  I could only stare as he pulled back. My body relaxed marginally as I took in his rugged features. I felt oddly relieved to see him after what had been a long week – a long, lonely and introspective week.

His dark eyes bored into
me with unmistakable, uncomplicated desire. I was immediately taken back to our last, rushed meeting at the hotel where the charity event had taken place. Exhaling, my eyes fell to his lips of their own accord. It seemed only natural that he’d kiss me. His head lowered slowly, wickedly, and delicious indentations formed at either side of his mouth when he smiled. His lips covered mine swiftly. He demanded a response. Running his hands down my back, he pulled my hips into his lower body. When he released a breath I felt the pressure behind it, as though it had been pent-up.

I
dropped my case and wound my arms around his neck. Only the sound of fabric brushing together marred the silence. I reveled in the simple, all-consuming pleasure of his kiss. God, I was tense ... all I needed was a moment of this. His lips scorched me; my whole body flickered to life under his touch, throbbing with grateful need. My limbs became liquid. I felt the painful relief of a sore muscle being massaged; a moan of sheer, unadulterated pleasure sounded low in my throat as his fingers gripped me and pulled me closer to his already noticeable erection.

It was only when his hands foraged under
my coat, curving around the tender flesh of my swollen breasts that the need threatened to overflow. I was so close to giving myself up to him. I trembled with it, but something flickered in the corner of my mind. Like a sleepy traveler suddenly aware of my surroundings, I woke up with a snap.

The pregnancy.

God, why did I let him reduce me to an unthinking mass of pure reaction – every time?

I
pushed against his chest lightly. “Wait.”

He blinked at
me. “I still have to check in with the band,” he said. “I’ve only got ten minutes before they go on.”

As usual!
My brow rippled. That ticking clock had gotten us into this mess in the first place. “I didn’t come here for this,” I said as I pulled out of his embrace. A chill made me shiver. My body throbbed.

His smile returned and his eyes were like two dark orbs. “Oh, yeah?” Dragging his thumb across
my swollen lips, he pulled me up against his erection again with his other hand. “I’m pretty sure – if you let me check – that your body doesn’t agree with that statement,” he said.

Weak with need,
I closed my eyes, reveling in the sharp, sweet sensation of his body pressing against me. It felt so good, just to be held, to be wanted like this. I knew that if I let him, Nathan would take me to a place where I badly needed to go. The last few weeks had been awful. I needed his touch … his easy acceptance; the unquestioning simplicity.

“That’s it, sweetheart
... just go with it.” His lips lingered against mine, gently at first and then more demanding. This time, when his hand cupped my full breast under the softness of my dress, I moaned in pleasure. I was so sore, and so tired.

This felt too good to deny.

When he picked me up and carried me to the sofa, I went willingly. He sat me down on his lap, wrenching my coat from my shoulders. Once freed, I raked my hands through his thick hair and down to the heated skin on his neck and shoulders. I heard my coat thud to the ground. His hands smoothed up the fabric of my stockings. With the confident ease of a man who was used to getting what he wanted, he hitched my lower body snug against his.

My
mind went into freefall. His lips were dragging me under with their slow, pressing persuasion. I smoothed my palms down his chest to his flat stomach. They slid across the waistband of his jeans. It tore a groan from him. I unfastened the button. My fingers found the arrow of hair pointing from his abdomen down towards the object of my desire. His stomach muscles twitched as I tickled the hair; I could feel the control he was exercising in every labored breath. I pulled his zipper down slowly. My hand slid under the taut fabric.

He was naked under his jeans.
My fingers closed around him. A shudder went through his whole body as I grazed his skin with gentle stroking. His head fell back for a moment and I was gifted with the sight of his strong and now vulnerable neck. His hard chest was slick and tempting before me. My eyes made the first exploration, followed by my free hand. I slid it down across his jaw, lower across his lean flesh, luxuriating in the ability to touch him. He was breathing heavily. His hands gripped me as though he might go under.

I
could feel the desire melting between my legs. “I’m so ready for you.” I breathed the words, my lips skimming his neck.

His response was immediate. Flipping
me onto my back on the couch, he hovered above me. I heard him slide his jeans from his hips; felt him kicking them off with impatience. His eyes raked my body. One hand slid between my legs. My stockings ended abruptly at the top my thighs, exposing silk panties. I could feel that they were now moist with my need. His finger traced an assured line across the wetness, gently pressing against the folds of my skin. I moaned in pleasure. With every unconscious shift of my hips I begged him to delve deeper.

He was watching the need in
my expression with something like fascination in his dark eyes. “Take off your panties,” he said. His desire was possessive; his voice was hoarse, determined.

I
didn’t hesitate. Reaching under my skirt, I slid them down my thighs. He leaned back, allowing me to slide them carefully across my ankles. Still wearing my heels, I lowered my legs slowly and sensuously back around him. He eased me snug around his hips. I felt his erection pressing between my legs. Exhaling, I tossed my head back and closed my eyes. My legs tightened around him involuntarily.

He was inside
me quickly. Pushing against my enveloping skin, he entered me with a low cry of release. I felt his body stiffen, and then relax. Dragging him closer with my legs, I pleasured in each demanding thrust. The taste of his skin, mingled with his scent, was intoxicating. My arms shivered as I wound them around his neck. His hair felt silken against my skin. All the while his hard body shuddered. Over and over he possessed me, plunging deep.

I
came hard and fast, the trembling like an aftershock as I felt him spill his seed inside me. I was still pulsating when he cried out, half-gasping and half-groaning my name. Our bodies fused for a singular moment in time, suspended in alter-reality. Then, slowly, a delicious languor entered my veins. I experienced a weightless sensation, as though I were a feather undulating down towards earth. He felt solid and warm around me. The air was scented with him, so nourishing and male. Winding my arms around his body, I closed my eyes and breathed slowly. I could feel his heart beating against his ribcage, just as fast as mine, as though they were communicating. All the way from my scalp right down to my stomach the pleasure rippled.

I
stilled as my body registered another fluttering sensation low in my stomach. Like an emotional dam breaking somewhere, anxiety rushed me.

How could
I have forgotten?

“
Chloe...” My name left his lips on a cool, slow breath this time. “That…” He paused to give the word emphasis. “…was just what I needed.” He leaned up on his arms, his gaze warm on me. “Your timing is impeccable.”

I
stared at him. The faintly dismissive compliment echoed around the peripheries of my brain but didn’t make too much of a dent. Instead, like a tap left to run, trepidation was quickly filling me to the brim and threatening to overflow.

He was seemingly oblivious. He eased away. “I’ve got to go, baby.”

“Nathan, we need to talk,” I said, recovering my wits.

“Sure.” He leaned across and kissed
me lingeringly. “We should be done around eleven.”

Clasping his wrist, I said,
“We should meet at my apartment.”

He frowned. “I can’t, sweetheart, I’m on my way to Vermont tonight.”

“Vermont?” I swiveled on the couch, placing my heels on the floor and coming into a sitting position beside him. I replaced my skirt carefully around my knees. I chose not to analyze why he’d be going to Vermont of all places. “You can spare ten minutes before you go, surely?”

“This pla
ce gets crazy after these shows,” he said, and he was distracted, slipping his jeans on, standing up to zip them. “Groupies … hangers-on … I just want to get out and get on the road.” He reached for a t-shirt on the back of his chair and his expression brightened. “Why don’t you come with me? It’s Friday night; take a weekend off for a change.” His tone warmed to the topic, even though he was still distracted. “You’re going to love this big old farmhouse I bought out there, right on the lake. They just finished the renovation. We could lie around, watch some T.V.” He spared a second to glance at me. His slow smile returned. “Christen the master bed…”

My
defenses rose like a tsunami at the light in his eyes. “Nathan, I really do need to speak to you for ten minutes,” I said. “It’s important.” I was floundering for words, trying to tell him without telling him. So much for the expert litigator… I narrowed my gaze on him. “We don’t need a whole weekend in Vermont-”

“
Well, we won’t be talking all weekend,” he said, his tone teasing. At my silence, he paused. Considering me for a minute, he then pulled the t-shirt over his head. His expression was taut for a moment. “What do you mean ‘important’?” A smile sliced through the tension. “Are you getting married or something?”

“No!” The accusation zapped
my like a livewire. A belated laugh surprised me. “You think I’d have sex with you if I was getting married?”

His smile reappeared with a vengeance. “I don’t know. Would you?”

I balked at the question. Was he sleeping with other women at the moment? I felt the onset of nausea rock me.

“So what is it, then?”
he asked. His smile deepened into an ironic chuckle. “Are you pregnant?”

The expression on
my face froze. I wasn’t even sure what it was, although shock would have been a good guess. I certainly felt shocked; shell-shocked, as though I’d just experienced an earthquake. I stared at him, unable to find a civilized way of responding. I’d never told a man before that I was having his baby.

He laughed.
There was a loaded pause. He looked away for a moment, grabbed his watch, and then looked back at my still frozen expression as he put it on. There was a trace of warm humor in his eyes. Then the silence extended; he stopped putting on his watch and considered me with a heavy frown. When he spoke again, his tone was stagnant. “Are you pregnant?”

“I’m-”

“You’re pregnant?” A stark realization flickered behind his eyes; his body flinched. “You are pregnant!” He stepped back as though I were infectious.

I
lifted my hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Nathan-”