My Best Friend's Baby (8 page)

She couldn't even cook.

She followed him into the kitchen anyway,
and found Nick head-and-shoulders deep inside her refrigerator,
mumbling to himself. His backside faced her, every bit as cute as
she remembered. His denim shorts stretched tight as he reached for
something on the shelf in front of him.

Chloe stifled a sigh and leaned back on the
counter to watch. Fate was cruel to have delivered her a man like
this next door, given her a taste of life in his arms ... and then
dangled him just out of reach with Kahlúa-induced amnesia and the
constraints of platonic friendship. It just wasn't fair.

Nick's hand emerged holding a box of
Twinkies. He slapped it onto the countertop beside the six-pack of
diet cola he'd already removed from the refrigerator.

"Hey!" She was beside him in an instant.
"Those will get all gooey if you leave them out like that."

He faced her, eyebrows raised. "They'll get
even gooier in the trash can," Nick said, picking up the box again
and aiming it toward the plastic bin in the corner like a
basketball player making a free throw. He paused. "Want to say
goodbye?"

"What? No!" Chloe grabbed one end of the box
and pulled. Nick pulled back.

The tug of war that ensued wasn't
pretty.

"You can't eat this stuff," Nick said,
wrenching his end of the box.

His tug sent her stockinged feet skidding
across the linoleum. She added her other hand to the struggle and
gained an inch or two. "Let go!"

"You let go." He tugged back, and she lost
the ground she'd gained. His broad chest and grinning face forecast
his victory, but she wasn't ready to call it quits yet.

Chloe Carmichal was no pushover. And she
never surrendered.

Instead she stuck her foot on top of Nick's
ankle for leverage and tightened her grip on the Twinkie box. "It's
mine. Give it up, you brute, before I have to manhandle you."

The idea had merit. She couldn't allow
herself to dwell on it—but she couldn't deny herself a quick roving
glance over his ... manhandables, either. The man could entice a
nun to sin, and never know he was doing it. That was the trouble
with brainiac types like Nick. He lived in a world of the mind,
where a buffed-up body was just efficient packaging for the real
goods.

She never knew efficiency could be so
sexy.

"Grow up, Chloe," he said, interrupting her
in mid-fantasy-flight. "Doing without junk food for a few months
won't kill you."

"Oh, no?"

"No. Anyway, it's for your own good."

He pulled harder. She skidded and tried
backpedaling against the slick waxed linoleum. The motion destroyed
whatever balance she had left. Chloe tightened her hold on the
Twinkies, felt herself falling ... and then Nick caught her.
Cardboard crunched and cellophane crackled between them as their
chests came together and squashed the Twinkie box.

"Oh!"

His arms held her close, his hands splayed
across her shoulder blades to keep her steady, and when she looked
up from the flattened remains of her prize—he
had
let go of
it, after all—somehow Nick's face hovered only inches from her own.
Concern turned his eyes mesmerizing and blue. Chloe felt herself
melting, easing into the warmth of his arms like Moe easing into a
brilliant patch of sunlight, and understood exactly what it was
about the heat that made the cat purr.

"Whoops," she whispered.

His gaze dropped to her mouth. She wanted to
say more, just to keep his attention there, but the feel of being
in Nick's arms stole her breath and sent her wits walking. She
licked her tongue over her lips, drew a deep breath, and couldn't
release it to save her life when she felt her chest expand and
press closer against him. Time spun slower.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Mmmm-hmmm."
Better than all right
.
"Thanks."

And thank God he didn't let her go. Instead,
he held her a little tighter. "You should've just given up the
Twinkies peacefully," Nick murmured. "Now they're ruined."

As if she cared. She'd crush a million boxes
if it would land her in his arms. Chloe didn't know how she'd lived
without his warmth surrounding her these past weeks. Like a
supplicant, like a woman in love wanting to be kissed, she tipped
her head back.

Her eyes drifted closed.
Please, just
give me this one moment
, she thought as she sensed Nick's face
coming nearer.
I'll live on it forever and never ask for
more
.

"Chloe ... ?"

The wonder in his tone opened her eyes. The
desire she glimpsed in his gaze made her heart spin into a happy
dance of love lost and returned. He was going to kiss her! Even
without knowing the truth of their baby, Nick really wanted her,
just for herself. It was all she could've dreamed, happening before
her eyes.

He lowered his head fractionally closer. His
minty toothpaste breath drifted past her cheek and the lean,
close-shaved caress of his jaw followed, making her twist her head
to capture his mouth.
Kiss me
.

"Kiss me," she whispered aloud. "Oh,
Nick—"

His whole body went still. Slowly he drew
back, and the heat in his eyes was from anger, not passion.

"
What
?"

"I—I—I—"
I said it out loud
! "I was
kidding!" She raised her Twinkie box prize and tossed it onto the
kitchen table. "I win!"

"You win."

She nodded.

"You win ... that." He cocked his head
toward the Twinkies.

She nodded.

"You did all ... that, just to win." He
straightened his glasses and peered at her. "Ruthless competitor
that you are, of course."

Was that irony in his voice? "Umm,
sure."

"Like hell," Nick said. "You're not like
that, Chloe, and we both know it."

She gestured lamely toward the Twinkies.

"You were serious."

"All true Twinkie aficionados are serious
about their—"

"Cut it out, Chloe. This is important. I
have to think."

Don't think
!
Don't think
! She
grabbed his hand. "Later. Think later," she said rapidly. "I know!
Let's go watch that Three Stooges tape I rented."

She yanked on his hand, trying to pull him
toward the living room and away from any further explorations of
the disaster that had just happened between them. He didn't
budge.

Now she knew how Larry felt when they played
tug-of-war with his doggie toys on the slick kitchen linoleum. Lots
of movement ... no forward motion.

"You've never kissed me before," Nick
said.

Her heart twisted. Chloe quit pulling and
let go of his hand. "I didn't kiss you now, either."

"You ... " Nick's gaze searched hers. Then,
typically, he dismissed the facts and went straight for the truth.
"You wanted to."

She was in so far over her head. But as long
as they were speaking truths, Chloe figured she might as well play
along.

"So did you."

He frowned. "I didn't. I can't.
I
won't
."

Her hopes rose. She couldn't help it. "Which
is it?"

Nick slammed his hands onto her bright
Spanish-tiled countertop hard enough to make her wince. That had to
hurt, but he didn't seem to notice. He squeezed the edge hard
enough to whiten his knuckles. "I won't."

Why not
? part of her wailed.

"I won't come between you and—" He ducked
his head and his gaze shifted to her non-pregnant looking belly.
"—and the father of your baby."

Chloe stared at him, openmouthed. This was a
wrinkle she hadn't anticipated.

"Who is it?" Nick asked.

Tell him the truth!
part of her
urged. But the Chicken Little side of her personality
prevailed.

"I—I told you. It's over." Over because he
didn't love her. Over because having a family now would ruin Nick's
inventing career.

Most of all, over because she owed it to her
baby to accept nothing less than a father who loved and wanted
children. The kind of father she'd never known.

"Even now, it's over?" Nick asked, turning
to lean on the countertop instead of mangle it in his hands. "Even
with the baby? Babies change things—"

"Not for him." Not if she could help it.

He frowned. "You're wrong. I know you
haven't dated that many men lately, Chloe, but—"

"Now you're the expert on the men I date?"
she interrupted, crossing her arms over her chest. "Thanks, Mr.
Dating Game, but—"

"—but I think," he continued patiently,
holding her gaze with his own, "whoever he is, he deserves to know
he's going to be a father."

"No!"

Chloe jumped and grabbed the mangled Twinkie
box. If he wouldn't move on, then she would. She'd move right on to
a hundred fat grams' worth of distraction, if that's what it took,
and nobody had better try to stop her. Cellophane rustled as her
fingers touched the Twinkie pancakes inside the box. Then Nick's
hand closed over the outside.

She snatched it out of his reach. "I'm
hormonal," she snapped. "Cut me some slack, okay?"

He raised both hands and grinned. That grin
alone was enough to break her heart. How had coming so close that
night only wound up pulling them apart now?

"Okay ... if you tell me who your baby's
father is."

Chloe made a face at him. "Like a dog with a
bone."

"Ruff." His grin widened. "Well?"

"No deal." She unwrapped a Twinkie and
licked up some of the sweet, squished-out filling, trying not to
show all the sidestepping going on in her brain. "Drop it, Nick.
He's ... he's gone, and he's not coming back."

"Gone? Gone where?" Nick spread his arms
wide, turning a circle between her kitchen table and the sink as
though looking for something. "He didn't just vanish."

"No, he—he—he—" Oh, great. Now he'd rendered
her tongue-tied and stammering, she, who'd never been at a loss for
words in her life. Frustrated, she cried, "I don't need him. I can
do this on my own!"

"Like you do everything else?" He slammed
his hand onto the kitchen table. "Dammit, Chloe! You don't have to
do everything all by yourself!"

Why not? She always had
. "I'm doing
this," she said quietly.

Nick's hands touched her shoulders. Slowly,
she looked up at him, then licked some filling from her fingertip.
"I'll be okay."

He squeezed gently, his gaze stuck on her
mouth, then blinked up at her. "Let someone help you. Let
him
help you. He has a responsibility to you."

She shook her head.

"Dammit, don't tell me he ran out on
you!"

The sudden fury in his face caught her off
guard. Chloe stepped back, stammering out a reply.

"He—he didn't run out on me."

Nick arched his eyebrows.
I'm
waiting
, his expression said.

Oh, cripes. This just got worse and worse.
She'd thought she could handle it at first, but ... .

"That wasn't it at all. No, he—he—he—"
Desperate, Chloe wheeled her arm in a circle as though that might
kick-start her imagination. "He—"

"He ... ?"

She looked around, seeking inspiration. Her
gaze landed on the "Macho Men of the Military" pinup calendar
hanging beside her refrigerator—Mr. April was dressed in a sailor's
hat and boots and not much else besides a smile—and all at once,
Chloe had the lie she needed.

"He's in the marines," she blurted out.

Nick's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "The
marines."

"Sure. He was, um, called back to duty
suddenly."

"I don't remember you dating any
marines."

Aaack. He was right. Chloe crossed her
fingers behind her back and gave Nick her sweetest smile. "I didn't
tell you about him," she said, spinning a more elaborate story in
her imagination. Love lost to duty, a brave soldier called back
before his true love could tell him about their baby ... maybe it
was crazy, but she was committed now.

"I just couldn't tell you," she said, adding
a sigh for effect. "Bruno was too special to be shared."

Chapter Five

Bruno.

The name haunted Nick night and day for the
next two months. Even his work was affected. Who could concentrate
with thoughts of Chloe's mystery marine buzzing around in his
head?

He could, dammit
. Scowling at the
printout in his hands, Nick tried to make sense of the scrawled
notes he'd made past midnight last night—he'd resorted to working
past dark most days, just to get something done—and finally gave up
in disgust. Something had to give. It just couldn't be his
work.

And it couldn't be Chloe, either. She needed
him, now more than ever.

Hell, what a mess. Nick threw the printout
onto his desk and swooshed his wheeled chair across his home office
to gaze out the window. As it was, he'd been dividing his time
between taking care of Chloe and working on a new version of his
growth accelerator—and giving short shrift to both. He'd dreamed
since he was a boy about making a name for himself by inventing
miraculous things. Without a proposal and prototype, without an
investor and licensing, his dream would be impossible to
achieve.

And without Chloe, his achievements would be
pointless.

He didn't buy her story about Bruno.
Something about it rang false, and Nick had operated on instinct
and educated guesses long enough to trust his gut. So far he hadn't
been able to find the mismatched element in her story, but he
would. The more important question was, why would she keep it from
him?

He had a feeling the answer hovered just on
the edge of his memory, like a misremembered name on the tip of his
tongue. All he needed to jog it to the forefront was the right
stimulus... whatever that was.

With a growl of frustration, Nick slapped
his hand onto the thick windowsill beside him, ready to whirl back
to his computer and try to get something done. Instead, a flash of
movement outside caught his eye and stilled his slide. A second
later, he realized what he'd seen.