The Pregnancy Plot (Brothers In Arms: Retribution Book 2)

by Carol Ericson

  “Maybe.” He steered the boat back into the Kleinschmidts’ dock. “Can you reach the county patrol now?”

  “Probably.” She dug into her bag and pulled out her phone.

  Jase expertly maneuvered the boat into the dock and held out his hand to help her onto dry land. “You make that call while I secure the boat.”

  Turning her back to him, she placed the call, and ten minutes later, just as Jase hopped onto the wooden dock, Nina spied the red county patrol boat heading toward her disabled craft.

  “Do they need you to tow that back here?”

  “No. They’ll secure it to my dock.”

  “Good.” He squeezed her shoulders, still trembling beneath the blue flannel of his damp shirt. “Let’s get you inside and get you something hot to drink. Coffee?”

  “I don’t drink coffee—anymore.”

  “And I only drink it first thing in the morning. Do you have some tea or hot chocolate?”

  “I have some chamomile tea, if you like.”

  “It’s not for me. It’s for you.” He spun her around and marched behind her, his hands lightly on the back of her shoulders.

  “You’re the one missing a shirt. That white T-shirt isn’t enough to protect you against the harsh elements out here.” Although she hadn’t minded the way the thin cotton had molded to his muscles. Simon had been broader and beefier than this man with his lean muscles and patrician features. But Jase didn’t come off any less capable than Simon. In fact, they both possessed a similar air of efficiency and confidence—that is until Simon changed.

  Strong fingers dug into the sides of her neck. “You okay? Your back is as stiff as a board.”

  “Just cold.” She traipsed up the two steps of the porch, escaping his touch, and fumbled for her keys. She shouldn’t be getting that much pleasure out of Jase’s warm touch while carrying Simon’s baby.

  Not that she would ever trust Simon in their child’s life—at least not until he got some help for his anger issues.

  What the hell had he been so angry about anyway?

  The keys dropped from her shaking hands, and Jase scooped them up in one fluid movement. “Let me.”

  He slid the key home and pushed open the door, stepping to the side.

  She ducked around him, the condition of the B and B bringing warmth to her cold cheeks. She really hadn’t made much progress. It didn’t help that every afternoon a slow, sneaking lethargy stole over her body.

  She waved at the sitting room with its worn wood floors and blackened fireplace. “I still have a lot of work to do.”

  “That’s what I’d heard. You change into some dry clothes.” He dangled the keys from one finger. “And I’ll boil some water for tea.”

  Snatching the keys from him, she pivoted away from him. And just like that she’d allowed another controlling male into her life.

  She called over her shoulder, “Tea bags are in the cupboard to the left of the stove.”

  “I can handle it. Get those wet clothes off and change into something comfortable.”

  Nina turned, sucked in her lower lip and studied Jase’s handsome face. He seemed a little too interested in getting her out of her clothes.

  She dipped her head once and said, “I still have that shotgun.”

  His eyes widened above raised hands. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Tossing a strand of wet hair over her shoulder, she crossed to her separate living quarters tucked behind the staircase. She’d make it quick and get out of this flannel shirt that had Jase’s fresh, manly scent in every fold.

  She didn’t need any more complications in her life right now.

  * * *

  WHEN HE HEARD a door close in the back of the house, Jase whistled through his teeth and turned toward the kitchen. That woman had a suspicious mind. Maybe it came from being pregnant...or dating a spy. A spy who had disappeared. That would do it.

  A copper teapot perched on a burner, and he grabbed it by the handle and filled it with water from the tap. A couple of mugs dangled from a wooden tree. He plucked them off, reading the words printed on the white one aloud, “Number one runner.”

  He figured Nina for the runner, since she looked like someone in good shape, despite the pregnancy, not that a woman couldn’t be pregnant and in good shape, but he hoped she wasn’t out there running marathons. He banged one of the mugs on the counter with a little too much force. Hell, what did he know?

  He claimed the plain, red mug with the chip on the handle for himself. Then he swung open the cupboard to the left of the range and took out the box of chamomile tea. He’d rather have a snifter of cognac to warm up, but he didn’t figure Nina would have any booze on hand.

  By the time the kettle whistled, Nina had returned, wedging a shoulder against the refrigerator, hugging a shapeless, red sweater around her body.

  She wrinkled her nose. “You don’t look too comfortable in the kitchen.”

  “Really?” He swung a tea bag in the air, wrapping the string around his finger. “I thought I was doing a bang-up job in here.”

  “Find everything okay?” She had scooped her shoulder-length, dark hair back into its ponytail, and the tilt of her head sent it swinging behind her.

  “I did.” He held up the runner’s mug. “Is this you?”

  Shoving her hands into the pockets of her jeans, she lifted her shoulder to her ears. “I ran cross-country in college.”

  “Impressive. Here in Washington?”

  “Oregon.”

  “A runner’s paradise—even more impressive.” He poured the bubbling water over the tea bags in the cups, and the rising steam gave a much-needed homey touch to the dilapidated kitchen.

  She joined him at the counter to take her mug, her shoulder brushing against his, the fuzzy softness of her sweater tickling his arm through his T-shirt. Her pale, stiff fingers curled around the handle of the mug.

  What she really needed was a warm bath, but if he suggested that, she’d probably haul out that shotgun again.

  “Does that fireplace in the other room work?”

  “Yes, and I even have a cord of wood that my neighbor delivered—the same neighbor who owns that boat you borrowed.” She tapped his mug with her fingernail. “Do you want some sugar or milk for that?”

  Since he never drank tea, he didn’t have a clue. “I, uh, take it black.”

  She wrapped her hands around the cup, closed her eyes and sniffed the steam floating up from the mug. Her long lashes created dark crescents on her cheeks, and her full lips curved into a slight smile.

  He caught his breath at the simple beauty of her expression and then shook his head. Put him in the presence of a pregnant woman and his thoughts went haywire. Nina wasn’t Maggie, and the baby she was carrying was Simon Skinner’s, not his.

  “Let’s get this fire started.” And he didn’t mean the one that had been doing a slow burn in his belly ever since he locked his gaze onto Nina Moore.

  She skirted past him, her pale cheeks sporting two red spots, as if she could read his mind.

  He followed her into the great room, which must’ve functioned as a sitting room and gathering place for guests—when there were guests.

  She gestured toward the big stone fireplace that took up half the wall. “I’ve already used it once, so I know it works, unlike the boat.”

  “Speaking of the boat.” He swept aside the curtain at the front window and peered outside. “Looks like they’re bringing it in, so at least they saved it from sinking.”

  “I’ll look at it later.” Nina collapsed into a recliner, facing the fireplace and folding her hands around her cup.

  She looked as if she needed warming up, and even though he had a few impure thoughts about how he could do that, he placed his mug on the table beside her and crouched in fro
nt of the fireplace and got to work.

  “Did I ever say thank you?”

  “For?” He cupped his hand around the orange flicker as it raced across the edge of the newspaper crumpled beneath the logs.

  “For rescuing me out there on the bay. Even though I wasn’t in imminent danger of drowning, the water was freezing cold and...”

  He held his breath. Would she mention her pregnancy now?

  She coughed. “And I could’ve been floating out there for a while before another boat came along.”

  He let out his breath and prodded a log into place before rising to his feet and retrieving his tasteless tea.

  He eased into a love seat at right angles to Nina’s chair and the fire, crackling to life. “There was that other boat. They were probably on their way to save you when they saw me. I’m glad I could get to you faster.”

  She stretched her long legs in front of her, crossing her legs at the ankles. She’d gotten rid of her sodden sneakers, her feet now encased in a pair of soft red socks that matched her sweater. Her coloring played well against the red, her blue eyes a contrast to her dark hair, giving her an exotic look.

  Simon Skinner had been a redhead. The baby could be an interesting combination of Mom and Dad.

  Then the truth punched him in the gut. If her ex-fiancé and the father of her baby was dead, she had a right to know. They had only Max Duvall’s word for that now, but once they received confirmation, he’d convince Jack Coburn that they had to tell Nina.

  He didn’t like it when people kept the truth from him, and he wouldn’t be a party to doing that to someone else.

  Of course, he was in the wrong line of work for those sentiments.

  The fire danced higher, creating a wall of warmth, and Nina held her hands out toward it, wiggling her fingers.

  “Are you warming up?”

  “Slowly but surely.” She pointed to his cup, still brimming with pale gold liquid. “You’re not drinking your tea.”

  “I’m not the one who wound up treading water in the sound for ten minutes.”

  “True, but you did give up your flannel and had to cross the bay in nothing but a flimsy T-shirt.” Her gaze flicked over his chest, and he resisted the urge to flex.

  That glance alone did more to heat him up than ten cups of chamomile could.

  She snapped her fingers as if to break the spell between them. “I hung up your shirt in the bathroom, but maybe it would dry faster in front of this fire.”

  She scooted forward on her chair and he held up his hand. “I’ll get it. Tell me where.”

  “Down the hall past the staircase, through the door and the bathroom’s the first room on your right. Those quarters are separate from the rest of the B and B.”

  He pushed up from the chair, taking his cup with him. He made a detour to the kitchen and placed it in the sink.

  Nina called from the other room. “You could’ve asked for something stronger.”

  “I hate drinking alone.”

  She turned in her seat as he came out of the kitchen and she cocked her head. “How’d you know I wouldn’t join you? You didn’t ask.”

  “You seemed hell-bent on tea.” He shrugged and ducked behind the staircase.

  Idiot. He planted the heel of his hand against his forehead. If his boss could see the way he was conducting this assignment, Coburn would pull his secret agent card.

  He pushed open the door to the small bathroom and snagged his shirt from the shower curtain rod.

  His hand hovered at the corner of the medicine cabinet and then he abruptly turned and exited the bathroom. He was here to watch over Nina, not spy on her.

  His agency didn’t suspect her of any wrongdoing and she deserved her privacy.

  He shook out the still-damp shirt in front of him as he returned to the great room. After he’d boarded the boat to go after Nina, he suspected he might have to go into the water after her, so he’d stashed his weapon and shoulder holster on the neighbors’ boat. He hoped they didn’t decide to take it out for a spin.

  The fire was in its full glory, and the glow from the flames cast an aura over Nina, backlighting her dark hair as she turned toward him and giving her face a rosy sheen.

  “Is it still wet?”

  “A little.” He dragged an ottoman in front of the fireplace and spread his shirt on top of it. “This should do the trick.”

  He sprawled in his chair, wedging his ankle on the opposite knee. “So what made you come out here and open a B and B?”

  “I grew up here, and it seemed like a good idea to come home and try to get this place back into shape. My mom and stepdad ran it until...their health failed. That’s why it’s just a mess now.”

  “Sorry.” He opened his mouth to say more, but a horn from a boat bellowed outside. “What is that? Sounds like an angry moose.”

  “That—” she struggled to her feet from the deep chair “—is the county rescue boat. They must be pulling my craft into the dock.”

  Jase snatched his warm shirt from the ottoman and stuffed his arms into the sleeves. “I’ll go have a look.”

  “I’ll join you. It’s my boat.” She slipped her feet into a pair of clogs and grabbed a hoodie from a hook by the front door.

  Sure enough, the big red Harbor Patrol boat had backed Nina’s damaged craft against her dock.

  They approached a member of the rescue team who was leaning over the side of the boat and writing something on a clipboard.

  “Afternoon, folks. This your boat?”

  “It’s mine.” Nina waved her hand. “I made the call.”

  “You must be Bruce and Lori’s girl.”

  “That’s right. I’m Nina Moore.”

  “Well, Nina Moore. I’m afraid I have some bad news for you.”

  Jase instinctively stepped in front of Nina. “What’s the bad news?”

  “This hole here?” The man jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Someone did that on purpose.”

  Chapter Four

  Jack Coburn had been right about this assignment and the need to watch over Skinner’s ex-fianceé. Someone had Nina in his crosshairs already.

  Two vertical lines formed between Nina’s eyebrows, and she kicked the toe of her clog against a wooden post. “I figured it was just a matter of time.”

  He jerked his head up. Nina knew about Tempest?

  The patrol officer tipped his hat back. “You have an idea who did this, Ms. Moore?”

  “You can call me Nina, and yes. It has to be my stepsister, Lou.” She swept her arm across the bay as if the mysterious Lou lurked somewhere out there on the water.

  “Oh, yeah, Lou.” The officer nodded in a way that made Jase feel completely out of the loop. “I remember her. Do you have any proof she did this?”

  “None at all, except that someone in town mentioned they’d seen her around. So, she’s back on the island.”

  “Watch your back, Ms.—Nina.” The officer smacked the side of Nina’s boat and jumped onto his own.

  Jase watched the Harbor Patrol boat for a minute as it maneuvered away from the dock, and then turned to Nina. “Why would your stepsister be putting holes in your boat?”

  Keeping her gaze on the retreating patrol boat, she crossed her arms over her waist and her sweater outlined a small bump below, the first visible sign of her pregnancy—at least to him. Nina’s lean runner’s frame would probably take a while to show evidence of her condition, but she had to be at least four or five months along, judging by the last time she saw Skinner.

  He’d seen pictures of Maggie pregnant at about the same stage as Nina, and she’d had a distinctive rounded belly, but then Maggie was smaller and more rounded in general than Nina.

  When Nina swung her head around, his gaze jumped to her
face.

  “My stepsister, Lou, is a disturbed person. She’s had some problems with drugs and alcohol, but her issues go beyond that. When her father married my mother and Mom and I came to live with them when she and I were both children, she had a fit. It only got worse from there. I knew when Dad, Bruce, left this B and B to me, she’d never let it go.”

  “So, you think she’s bent on sabotage?” Noticing a tremble rolling through her body, he took Nina’s arm. “Let’s go back inside. You’re still chilled from your swim in the sound.”

  She allowed him to steer her back toward the house. “Putting a hole in the bottom of my boat would definitely be something in Lou’s repertoire.”

  “Is she capable of more? Would she do you physical harm? Not that plunging into the icy depths of that bay couldn’t have resulted in something worse than a bad chill.”

  Pushing open the door, she paused on the threshold. “I don’t think she’d pull out a gun and shoot me, but she’d pull stunts that could have unintended consequences—just like putting a hole in a boat.”

  “And I thought my family had issues.” He stomped his feet on the mat at the door.

  “Oh?”

  He had no intention of getting personal with her and mentally gave himself a kick for even mentioning his family. He’d used his nickname and a fake last name, just in case she decided to do a little research on the internet, because it wouldn’t be hard to find Jason Bennett—or his family.

  “Do you want more tea?” He pointed to the flames simmering in the grate. “Looks like the fire died down.”

  “I’m fine.” She stood in the entryway, making no move to go back to their cozy situation in front of the fire.

  “Okay, I’ll be heading back to my motel. Do you want me to stoke that up for you before I go?” He made a move toward the fireplace, but she placed a hand on his arm.

  “I’ll let it go, thanks.”

  He strode past her anyway. “I’ll reposition those logs, so they don’t roll off the grate.”

  He couldn’t help it. Nina’s pregnancy gave him an overwhelming urge to do things for her—all the things he never got to do for Maggie. He prodded the logs and then snagged Nina’s mug and deposited it in the kitchen sink next to his.