One Night, So Pregnant! Page 12

  ‘You’re insured, aren’t you?’

  ‘Well, yes, but even so it’s—’

  He covered her hand, felt the satisfying tremble of reaction as the concerned comment cut off. The flags in her cheeks got pinker. ‘Then it’s not a problem.’

  ‘Miss Tremaine? Mr Graystone? Dr Hillier is ready for you now.’

  Nate lifted his hand, grateful for the receptionist’s interruption. He shouldn’t have touched Tess. That had been a dumb move. After three solid weeks, he’d just increased the torture tenfold.

  He stood. ‘This should be...’ He hesitated. Not sure he was really prepared for this—was he actually going to see a baby? ‘Interesting.’

  He waited for her to precede him, resisting the desire to rest his palm on the curve of her spine.

  ‘As long as everything’s okay,’ she said, so low he could barely hear her.

  He cupped her elbow, hearing the concern. ‘Hey, this is routine, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, yes, it is,’ she said, but she didn’t sound completely sure.

  He rested his fingertips on the small of her back. And damned the consequences.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ he asked, the guilt fresh as he realised he hadn’t bothered to ask in the last three weeks.

  ‘Fine. Good,’ she replied, sounding a little more definite.

  ‘Then there’s nothing to worry about.’

  ‘You’re right.’ She nodded. ‘Of course, you’re right.’

  He pressed his palm into her back, let the silk glide under his fingers—and felt the tug of protectiveness and possession as they walked into the doctor’s office together. But this time the panic didn’t follow. Because he was too busy getting his head around the surprising fact that Tess Tremaine was a worrier.

  That she needed his support, and not just financially.

  And that meant avoiding her was no longer an option.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ‘THERE you go, that’s baby’s arms and legs.’ Dr Hillier pointed to the screen as she pressed the cool wand into the mound of Tess’s belly. Tess’s breath hitched as the head and tiny little body came into focus, her baby’s features already forming.

  She hadn’t expected the baby to look so recognisable. And she certainly hadn’t been prepared for anything this intense, this amazing—or this terrifying.

  Nate’s hand gripped hers and she glanced up, to find him staring down at her from his seat beside the examination table. Was it her imagination, or did he look as stunned as she felt?

  ‘Pretty cool, huh?’ he murmured, squeezing her fingers until they stopped trembling.

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered back.

  The well of emotion geysered up inside her as the doctor began to click the monitor, talking quietly about the measurements she was checking. The rapid-fire ticks of the

  baby’s heartbeat sounded like a series of sonic booms in the background.

  Tess scrubbed away the tear that slipped down her cheek in the darkened room, grateful that Nate had become transfixed by the clear, three-dimensional image on the monitor again and hadn’t noticed her loss of control.

  But her fingers continued to cling onto his hand.

  She’d persuaded herself she could do without him. That it didn’t matter if he came today or not. But the relief that he was here and that he seemed willing to share this much was overwhelming.

  As he reeled off a string of questions to the doctor she tuned out the answers, happy to let him take point on this one. Her emotions too full, too close to the surface—but as his rational questions continued the panic returned.

  Maybe she could do this alone, but she didn’t want to. The realisation stunned her. She forced the hollow, helpless feeling back and let go of Nate’s hand.

  His gaze connected with hers in the darkness. The sharp planes and angles of his face cast into shadow by the fluorescent glow of the screen. She broke eye contact first, casting her gaze back to the sight of their baby, her baby.

  She was glad that he’d come, glad that he was here, but she didn’t need him to be here, she told herself staunchly.

  * * *

  ‘That was kind of mind-blowing,’ Nate murmured, still reeling from the sight of that detailed image of his child on the monitor. The baby wasn’t an abstract concept any more. Seeing those tiny limbs, the features in profile, suddenly made it all seem very real. He was glad now he’d come to the scan. This should help him get his priorities straight—keep his role in perspective.

  He’d been a coward to avoid Tess these last three weeks. Had seen the accusation in her eyes when she’d suddenly released his hand—as if she regretted having turned to him for support.

  The desire they both felt for one another was just a physical need, so why had he been so wary of giving in to it? Instead of running away from it, it made more sense to manage it and control it—because three weeks of denial had only intensified the longing.

  She walked ahead of him as they left the doctor’s surgery but he could see the way her fist white-knuckled on the strap of her bag. He spotted the shiny new Beemer in the parking lot, the midday sun glinting off the glossy red paintwork, and his fingers closed over her elbow, preventing her stepping off the kerb.

  ‘Hold up, Tess. How about I drive you down to San Revelle?’ he asked. ‘I can catch a cab back.’

  She sent him a level stare, irritation making her eyes sparkle. ‘Why would you do that?’

  He hesitated, knowing the truth was probably going to cause an argument, but decided that he’d had enough of lies and evasions. ‘You look exhausted, and I don’t want you driving down the coast road alone.’

  Okay, maybe that wasn’t the whole truth, but it was close enough.

  Her eyebrows rose towards her hairline and her shoulders pulled up. ‘I’m perfectly capable of driving myself home without your help, Nate,’ she shot back, the implication clear—that she’d survived well enough without him for the last three weeks too.

  He suppressed the tug of guilt. ‘Sure you are,’ he conceded. ‘But why not let me do it?’

  Her eyes narrowed slightly, but he knew he had her when she glanced back at the car. Her shoulders sank and she gave a little sigh, then reached into her bag.

  ‘Fine, you drive,’ she said, slapping the car keys into his waiting palm. ‘But don’t think this means you’re forgiven for all those Very Important Meetings!’

  He couldn’t resist a smile as she marched off ahead of him towards the car.

  Tess needed him—but she was capricious and headstrong and determined to be independent too. So handling her with kid gloves was out.

  * * *

  ‘The place looks great, but didn’t you want to have any of your own furniture here?’

  Tess peered through the kitchen door and took a long and, she hoped, calming swallow of the ice-cold lemonade. Nate’s six-foot-plus physique seemed to fill up the cottage’s palatial living room. She stepped into the room, determined not to be crowded out by his dominating presence. And anyway, she didn’t want him following her into the kitchen—that table held a few too many memories.

  She could be just as indifferent about pursuing that aspect of their relationship as he could.

  ‘I don’t have that much...’ She glanced round at the room’s bespoke Spanish furnishings. ‘And the furniture that was already here seemed to suit the place more.’

  She handed him the glass of lemonade she’d poured for him. His eyes connected with hers as his fingers wrapped around the glass, brushing against her hand.

  ‘Thanks,’ he murmured, the sound rough.

  She stepped back, her eyes riveted to the strong column of his throat as he took a couple of gulps.

  She pointed towards the hallway with her glass. ‘I’ll give you a tour before you leave,’ she said.

  As she walked briskly down the shadowy hallway some of the tension eased off. A guided tour would be polite and impersonal. It should help relieve the awareness between them that had nearly had
her crawling out of her skin during the drive down, and get things back on an even keel.

  Except, it didn’t.

  The cottage’s rooms had always seemed remarkably spacious. Hadn’t she marvelled at the house’s generous layout, the huge panoramic windows at the front that opened the rooms onto the magnificent seaside vista of cliffs and surf, as soon as she’d moved in?

  But today, even with the air con on full blast and the sun streaming through to brighten the heavy wood furniture and ornate trim, every room they entered together seemed more cramped and airless than the last.

  Even the comforting scent of lavender furniture polish and sea air had been masked by the musky scent of him... Soap and man and pheromones.

  And his silence only made the tour all the more unnerving. Every time she turned to leave a room, he was there, too close behind her, his broad chest and intent gaze a physical force that had her mouth watering, even though she was trying very hard not to let it.

  After showing him the small second bedroom, she darted under his arm and headed back to the living room with some mumbled excuse about showing him the gardens, her heartbeat fluttering in her throat like the wings of a hummingbird on speed.

  ‘Hey, you forgot this room,’ he shouted after her as she made a beeline for the wide open spaces of the living room.

  She stopped and turned to find him standing next to the door to her bedroom, the easy smile on his face a combination of smug and amused.

  ‘What’s in here?’ he enquired, as if he didn’t already know.

  Even if he hadn’t had free range of the cottage when he was a boy and Maria and Zane had lived here, he had to know there was only one room she hadn’t shown him.

  She stood and stared at him, rooted to the spot.

  No way, she was not giving him a tour of her bedroom.

  She had absolutely no desire to sleep with him again. The man had avoided her for three whole weeks, after she thought they’d had an agreement. She wasn’t about to set herself up for rejection all over again. But with her skin tightening and her heart battering her ribcage, she was not about to tempt fate either.

  Unfortunately though, she couldn’t seem to open her mouth and actually say any of that, because her mouth had gone dry again—even though she’d choked down a whole glass of lemonade during the fastest house tour on record—and she couldn’t speak.

  Leaning against the doorframe, he twisted the handle and let the door swing open. Light flooded into the darkened corridor, illuminating the tempting smile on his face as he peered into the room.

  ‘Nice cushions.’ He studied the room, his eyebrow quirking along with his lips as his gaze returned to hers. ‘Is that bed as comfortable as it looks?’

  She gulped audibly, before she choked on her own tongue, the husky invitation in his voice as unequivocal as it was outrageous.

  ‘I guess you’ll never know.’

  He gave a rough chuckle. ‘Why don’t you come here and say that?’

  It wasn’t a question, it was a challenge, and one she wasn’t convinced she could win, but pride had her chin jutting out and her stilettos clicking on the tiled floor before she could evaluate her chances.

  She stopped in front of him, slapped her hand onto her hip and looked up at him. Way up. ‘I guess you’ll never know.’ Unfortunately the words didn’t quite have the defiance she’d been aiming for when they came out on a breathless murmur.

  ‘Oh, yeah?’

  A firm hand curled around her nape, and those smiling sensual lips covered hers, his tongue delving deep to capture the gasp of shock and stunned arousal.

  Heat blazed down to her core, her body shook with suppressed need and she kissed him back, her tongue tangling with his in a dance of passion and provocation.

  But then her fevered mind engaged. She sucked in a breath, curled her fingers into the crisp linen of his shirt and shoved hard against the solid wall of muscle. He barely budged, but his head lifted, those pure blue eyes locking on hers.

  Her breath rattled out, the ragged pants making her sound like a sixty a day smoker. ‘This isn’t happening. Not again,’ she said, forcing the words out past the riot of sensations making her legs shake, her fingers tremble.

  ‘Why not? It’s safe, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, but that’s not the point.’

  ‘What is the point, then?’ he said, the smile gone. ‘You want this as much as I do.’ His hand cupped her breast, the thumb brushing over the iron-hard peak. ‘Or your nipple wouldn’t be so hard I can feel it through your bra.’

  ‘I’m not denying it!’ She dragged in a breath, knocked his hand away from her yearning flesh, stunned by the unbelievable cheek of the man. How had this suddenly become her fault? ‘You’ve been avoiding me for three weeks, Nate. Which means you don’t just get to waltz back in here and pick up where we left off without an explanation.’

  ‘Why not? If it’s what we both want?’

  ‘So you don’t deny it, then?’ she replied, her jaw dropping at the knuckle-headed, testosterone-led response. How much of a pushover did he think she was?

  He swore softly and thrust a hand through his hair, stepping back until his stiff back bumped against the doorway. ‘I needed a little time, to figure out what’s the best way to go about this...this...’ he waved his palm, as if grasping for a suitable word ‘...this thing we’ve got going on. I didn’t want you getting any ideas.’

  ‘Oh, right! Well, that’s perfectly fine, then!’ Her voice rose to a shout, indignation fast giving way to temper. ‘So you get to treat me like I don’t exist for three weeks, while you decide how this thing is going to work out. What about me?’ She drilled her forefinger into his chest. ‘Why don’t I get a say?’

  His brows drew down, as if he were struggling with the concept.

  ‘And what ideas exactly?’ But she didn’t need to ask, because she already knew. Had known the minute he’d shut her out in the Jeep three weeks ago.

  Her fingers balled into a fist. And she had to remind herself that she was a grown woman and that socking him on the jaw right now would probably not be all that helpful. Even if she really, really wanted to.

  ‘I poured my heart out to you in that Jeep,’ she said, soldiering on when she saw him flinch. This needed to be said, whether he wanted to hear it or not. ‘And you told me things about yourself that made me realise...’ She trailed off. She didn’t want to make the connection they’d shared sound cheesy or false. But she wanted him to know things had changed, that her feelings weren’t simple any more. ‘That made me realise you’re a lot more complicated than I gave you credit for.’

  ‘Complicated?’ He spat the word out as if it were an insult, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. ‘Complicated how?’

  ‘Complicated the way everyone’s complicated, you dope,’ she said, losing patience with him. ‘But just because I appreciated knowing those things about your past, and I appreciated you listening to what I had to say about my rocky relationship with my dad, I do not expect this to lead to anything more than what we agreed on. Believe me...’ she curved her hand round her belly, pictured that morning’s image on the monitor—and let the rush of pure, uncomplicated love blindside her again ‘...I don’t need any more emotional upheavals in my life right now. I simply haven’t got the time or the space for them. And it’s really rather conceited of you to assume that just because we shared a few home truths about our pasts, I’d suddenly start getting ideas about us.’ She planted her hands on her hips. ‘I happen to value my independence just as much as you do, Buster.’

  She glared at him, bracing herself for him to say something crass. But as the keening cry of a gull broke the silence he dropped his chin to his chest, heaved a sigh.

  When he looked back up, a slow, self-deprecating smile had lifted his lips.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he murmured, and then his thumb stroked down her cheek, the soft contact making her heart contract. ‘I guess I freaked out a little.’

  ‘A little?�
� she said, incredulously, but relief had eased the knot of tension in her gut. She didn’t want to fight with him any more. It was exhausting, but, more than that, she’d finally matured enough to realise that fighting never really solved anything. ‘So why did you freak out like that?’ she asked. ‘Because I don’t recall going down on one knee and begging for a commitment from you.’

  He hitched his shoulder, buried one hand in the pocket of his trousers, and avoided her gaze. ‘I’ve never told anyone that stuff before.’ His eyes lifted to hers and she could see the genuine confusion in them. ‘It spooked me. I couldn’t figure out why I’d told you all that. And why it felt okay.’

  Her pulse skidded to a halt. So he’d trusted her with the truth, when he’d never trusted anyone else. She dismissed the thought, tried not to make it mean too much.

  ‘Maybe it was just the shock of discovering you’re going to be a dad yourself that shook it loose?’ she said, trying to convince herself as much as him. ‘We’ve both been under a lot of pressure lately. Parenthood is a huge deal—and neither of us has had much time to adjust. I know I’ve done quite a lot of reevaluating myself.’

  ‘Yeah. Maybe.’

  ‘Have you thought about trying to talk to Zane about it?’ she asked, hoping that he would. ‘You’re both older now and at least a little wiser. It might help.’

  He scuffed his foot against the polished tiles, as if he was considering the request, then shook his head. ‘Nah, some stuff’s better left alone.’

  She didn’t agree, but she didn’t say so. It was really none of her business.

  He cupped her chin in his palm, slid his thumb across her lips. And her thoughts scattered.

  ‘I get it that you don’t need any more emotional upheaval. Neither do I.’ His thumb pressed into her bottom lip and her pulse punched her neck. ‘But how do you feel about starting over, giving the friends thing another go?’

  Her lips lifted, the husky tone making it clear the request was far from platonic. ‘Hmm.’ She cocked her head to one side, pretending to consider the suggestion. ‘I guess as long as I could rely on my new friend not to freak out again, I might consider it.’