“I’m turning in now.”
Sure enough, a pickup with Phil’s Garage emblazoned on it was pulling in from the street. “See that tow truck hooking up the RV?” Lock said into the phone. “They’re two lanes to the east.”
“Got ’em.” The pickup rolled toward the oblivious young lovers.
Lock pointed it out to Erica. “The cavalry’s arrived.”
She clicked her tongue as the truck came to a halt. “Too bad. I was all set for one of those exciting car chases like on TV.”
“Don’t be too disappointed. It’s hard to tail a vehicle in traffic.”
Near the dented compact, Phil double-parked and stalked toward the pair. As Kelli’s uncle spoke, Randy’s demeanor shifted from defiance to dismay. He made no attempt to intervene as Phil hauled his niece to his truck. Though Lock couldn’t hear their exchange at this distance, he could read the girl’s resentment in her body language.
Too bad his client didn’t handle the situation with a bit more tact. While this incident might persuade the grandmother to clamp down harder, she couldn’t keep the girl under lock and key twenty-four hours a day. Even if Randy left Kelli alone, it wouldn’t take her long to latch on to another exploitive male.
“What does a parent do in that situation?” Lock asked. “You can’t force her to follow the rules.”
“You’re genuinely concerned about her, aren’t you?” Erica watched him thoughtfully.
“She’s so vulnerable.” Unable to explain Kelli’s family situation, he had to keep his remarks general. “Children’s needs are profound, and kids grow up fast.”
“That’s why it’s better if they have two parents who’re dedicated to them.” As the pickup rolled away, Erica opened her car door. “But if you really think you’re ready to parent on your own, I’ll do what I can to get you off to a good start.”
“You mean that?” A few lanes over, Lock saw the tow truck roll forward slowly with the RV hooked behind it.
She sighed. “Yes, I mean it. And no, I don’t.”
“What are you saying?” Lock asked.
In the fading light, her pale hair took on an ethereal quality. “I’m willing to babysit with you, and teach you how to change diapers and bottle-feed. But the truth is, I’m hoping you’ll hate every minute of it.”
He had to smile at her honesty. “Fair enough. We can discuss this over dinner.”
“Meet you at my place,” she said.
With a wave, Lock headed for his car. While he had no idea what had changed Erica’s mind, it was a start.
A start toward what, he had no idea. But he was more than willing to find out.
Chapter Twelve
The way Lock moved around her kitchen made Erica feel like a giddy teenager struggling to tear her eyes from the ripple of muscles beneath his shirt. When he peeled back his sleeves to wash his hands, the sight of his muscular forearms reminded her of how he’d held himself over her as they’d made love.
Sitting on the far side of the breakfast counter, she realized that she’d missed his sideways grin and his self-assured manner. And seeing the way he cared about that girl at the supermarket had forced her to concede that his desire to keep the baby might prove more than a passing whim. Was it possible that, despite the emotional knocking around he’d received as a child, he’d emerged with true paternal instincts?
The prospect was incredibly sexy.
The best thing about him, she decided, was that he never seemed to be trying to dominate her. He didn’t assume that she would take on the role of his kitchen helper, nor had he pressed her further about her baby-sitting promise. Instead, he’d kept the conversation light and gone to work with a will.
Not that Erica trusted him past a certain point. Sooner or later, guys let you down. Even Dr. T had disappointed her yesterday when he’d relegated her to a role as one in a cast of, well, dozens. But on a scale of one to ten, she was willing to grant Lock a seven for responsibility. Possibly an eight.
He opened the oven, releasing the delicious scent of meat and spices. “Nearly done. I like this recipe. Hope you do, too.”
“My mouth’s watering.” And not just for dinner. “You’re quite a cook.”
“It’s a simple meal.” Lock set a bowl of salad on the counter. “You can put this on the table if you like.”
She transferred the bowl to the table, which she’d set while he worked. “Do you ever lie to women?”
He blinked. “About salad? Never.”
Erica returned to her post. “What do you lie about?”
“My foster mother told me that there are certain questions a man should never answer truthfully.” He put a corn casserole into the microwave oven.
“Which questions?” Erica had never considered what sort of advice a mother might give a son. Bibi’s tips about male-female relationships had mainly consisted of ways to build up a man’s ego. Once Erica discovered that most men’s egos didn’t require building up, she’d stopped listening.
“First, ‘Does this make me look fat?’ The answer is always no.”
She chuckled. “Agreed.”
“Ditto for, ‘Does this make me look old?’”
“Anything else?”
He considered. “‘Have you ever loved anyone before?’”
“I thought I did when I got married, but… Was that a question or an example?”
“Both,” Lock said.
She felt her cheeks heating. “How about you? Ever been in love?”
“I’ve had crushes. Not recently.”
“What does that mean?”
Lock finished wiping down the counter and moved toward her. The air shimmered between them. “It means that, hopefully, I’ve matured.” He leaned on the counter, his hand inches from hers. It was a strong hand, sprinkled with dark hairs and marked with a small, jagged scar.
She traced the scar with her finger. “What happened here?”
“Fish hook. Camping accident.” His voice had a throaty rasp and she saw a quiver run up his arm.
“You’re a real man’s man, aren’t you?”
“Sometimes I’m a woman’s man.” His gaze flashed with liquid fire.
“I can vouch for that,” Erica agreed.
“I’d be happy to prove it to you again.”
She swallowed. “Now?”
“Seize the moment.” A kitchen timer buzzed, followed a moment later by the microwave. “Hold that thought.” Grabbing oven mitts, Lock removed the muffin tin to the stovetop, leaving the casserole in place. “These need to cool and I can reheat the corn.”
“This is becoming a habit. Maybe you should stop cooking for me.”
“Or we should make love first. But if I have to choose between appetites, I know which one will always win.”
So did she. When Lock came around the counter to take her in his arms, Erica felt not the least inclination to resist.
By the time they reached the bedroom, he’d unbuttoned her blouse and she’d helped pull his sweater over his head. “Guess you can skip the protection,” she teased.
“Darn, and I just bought a replacement.” His mouth claimed hers, halting any response. But then, she didn’t have one.
Erica reveled in the chance to explore Lock at leisure, to touch his powerful shoulders and back. Her passion built as his mouth and tongue inflamed her breasts, trailing down to an area so sensitive she could hardly bear it.
When he lowered her to the bed and joined them with a thrust, pleasure exploded inside her. And there was more—tantalizingly more. Joy rolled through Erica in waves. Lock cried out, thrusting into her again and again, until he sank atop her, breathing hard.
After a moment, he shifted to the side and they lay enve
loped in heat. “We should do this more often,” Erica murmured.
“I second that motion,” Lock said and kissed her.
WHILE HE HADN’T had any specific expectations when he’d invited himself over to cook dinner, Lock supposed that he’d hoped all along they would make love again. Being inside Erica fused the fragments of his soul, resonating beyond the physical.
Always before, at this deepening stage of a relationship, he’d felt an uneasy push-pull between wanting more and hearing the sound of a prison door creaking shut. The closer the woman drew, the more Lock felt driven toward the exit.
Not with Erica. When they showered together, she stroked him plenty, but there was always a hint of distance in her smile. He heard no creaking, saw no dwindling glimmer of light through a fast-closing door. An unfamiliar pang of uncertainty ran through Lock as she dried off and dressed, ran her hand across his chest appreciatively and went out.
She wasn’t leaving, just going to the kitchen. Yet with Erica, he made no assumptions about the future. She’s too much like me.
He hurried to catch up. “Dinner’s my job,” Lock told her when he heard the microwave humming.
“Joint effort. Don’t go all controlling on me,” she warned, tugging back a strand of damp blond hair.
“You hate that in guys as much as I hate it in women,” he blurted.
“I hope you don’t get any sense I’m trying to run your life,” she returned sharply.
“Not at all.”
“Good. As far as I’m concerned, you’re free to go. Not that I’m trying to get rid of you.” She took out a serving platter and began spooning meat loaf out of the muffin pockets.
The remark stung. Lock had always taken it for granted that if he found the “right” relationship, the woman would love him as much as he loved her, or more. “Aren’t some people worth holding on to?”
“Didn’t you hear me say I’m not trying to get rid of you?” Carrying the platter, Erica moved from the kitchen to the table.
Lock followed with the corn casserole. “That’s hardly a ringing endorsement.”
“Don’t worry,” Erica said. “I still have to teach you how to change diapers.”
That wasn’t enough for him. “You’ll need a birth partner. I’d like to do that for you.” His foster mother had fulfilled that role for Lourdes while her husband was on a tour of duty with the marines. Lock remembered the two of them discussing how the experience had brought them closer.
Erica took a seat. “Don’t remind me of what’s ahead. I dread all this.”
“Some women find pregnancy and childbirth fulfilling.” That was the wrong thing to say, Lock gathered from her skeptical look. “However, I’m not the one who has to go through it.”
“Exactly.”
“Did you have someone else in mind?” he pressed.
“For what?” She heaped food on her plate.
Was she purposely putting him off? Lock wondered as he sat beside her. “Birthing partner.”
“Don’t need one. I expect the doctor to knock me out. If someone tries to tell me how to breathe, I’ll kick him in the shins. Or somewhere else, since I’ll be lying down,” she qualified.
To Lock, this was no longer a joking matter. “I’m serious about the offer.”
“I’ll consider it,” Erica replied. “Now are you going to pass the salad or do I have to sit on your lap and reach for it myself?”
He liked that offer. “You’re welcome to sit on my lap.”
“Just wait till the baby and I weigh three hundred pounds,” she threatened. “We’ll mash you into the chair.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Lock said, only half kidding. Then he passed the salad.
ON SUNDAY, THEY MADE LOVE twice. This friends-with-benefits business would be sheer heaven if it weren’t for the burning question of what to do about the baby, Erica thought.
She kept remembering Renée’s dilemma. How wrenching to give up a baby and then, years later, have to deal with a complete stranger, an adult with possible unresolved issues. But how much worse to see that child around town as he or she was growing up. How could anyone turn a cold shoulder to a sweet little kid who lacked a mother?
And how was Erica going to put a wall between herself and Lock after the baby’s birth? The only solution would be to move away. Leave the hospital and Dr. T’s team.
Or stay here and help raise the child. Work something out with Father Knows Best. It would be unconventional to give the baby to Lock, yet stay involved. Well, who said she had to live according to convention?
Of course, that assumed she could rely on Lock to keep his end of the bargain. To be a real father, to build his life around the child. To accept Erica as a part-time mom and sometime lover. Yet after this weekend, she was beginning to think that might be possible.
First things first. She’d promised to set up the babysitting gig.
On Monday, Erica managed to get a moment alone with Dr. T in the break room. Talking quickly before anyone else came in, she told him about her pregnancy, the father’s wish to raise the child, and their interest in babysitting the twins. “It’s kind of a boot camp for an inexperienced dad.”
“I’m supposed to trust my kids to a rookie?” He quirked an eyebrow.
“Under my supervision.” Erica had thought that was clear.
“It won’t be a fun date,” Owen warned. “If one twin goes to sleep, the other fusses and wakes up.”
“That’s the idea,” Erica said. “I hope Lock will discover he’s not cut out for the daddy business, after all.”
Or did she hope that? It had been her intention initially. But such a realization might break Lock’s heart. She almost hoped he’d choose to keep the baby.
Almost.
“I’ll ask my wife. We’d love to see South Pacific at the Orange County Music Center next weekend.” Owen jammed his hands into the pockets of his white coat. “You know, I wasn’t too keen on being tied down before I learned Bailey was expecting. You might change your mind.”
“Let’s not go there,” Erica warned. In the hallway, she heard footsteps and braced for an interruption. To her relief, no one entered.
Dr. T’s cinnamon eyes swept her protectively. “Who is this guy, anyway? How’d you let him knock you up?”
She laughed at his choice of words. “Fine talk from a fertility expert.”
“Answer the question.”
“He’s a detective. His name’s Lock Vaughn and he works with Alec’s wife.” Might as well admit it, since Owen was going to be entrusting them with his children. “We ran into each other while jogging, and one thing led to another.”
“You’re a nurse. Contraception is not exactly a foreign concept.”
“The condom broke,” Erica said. “Satisfied, Doctor?”
He tilted his head. “Picked an OB yet?”
“Dr. Brennan.”
“Good choice,” he said. “However, you don’t count toward her total for the contest.” Over the weekend, the press had seized on the announcement with glee, and Erica had heard murmurs about doctors forming alliances to support their favorite charities.
“I’m aware of that,” she told him cheerily. “You can’t count me, either. Which charity have you picked?”
“Haven’t decided,” Owen said. “Anyway, I’d rather not take sides.”
“I don’t blame you.”
A few nurses entered, putting an end to the conversation. Well, she’d told her boss about her situation, Erica reflected. That was one hurdle crossed.
Later, on her way to the cafeteria after surgery, she considered the possibility that babysitting those cute kids would have an impact on her, too. Taking care of her cousins when she was a teenager had been fun the
first few times, until her aunts decided to make the most of having a free babysitter. Her mother had insisted it was good practice and that her sisters deserved a break. When Erica complained to her father, he’d scolded her for acting selfish. No wonder she’d learned to hide her feelings from her parents.
With Lock, she felt safe to open up. The way he’d held her while she unloaded about her brother had been wonderfully supportive. Too bad the condom had broken.
Was that really such a terrible thing?
Yes, Erica answered promptly. But perhaps not as terrible as it had seemed at first.
Her hand drifted to her still-flat abdomen. She’d spent so many years considering pregnancy as a medical condition that she hadn’t given much thought to the more profound implications. Not that she was ready to embrace motherhood. Yet sometime in the past few days, her initial panic had eased.
In the cafeteria, she approached the line for hot food. Nearby, Ned Norwalk lingered by the dessert display, his gaze fixed on her. What was he doing, trolling for gossip?
When he started in her direction, Erica tamped down her impatience. While she didn’t enjoy having to guard her words around the notorious gossip, they both worked with Dr. T and they needed to get along.
“Hi, Ned.” She mustered a smile.
“Can we talk?” He spoke tautly.
“Something wrong?”
He glanced around. No one appeared to be paying them any attention. “I was looking for Dr. T earlier and I happened to hear part of what you said in the break room.”
With a sinking sensation, Erica recalled the footsteps in the hall. Why hadn’t she noticed that they didn’t continue on? The man must have heard enough to keep the entire hospital buzzing for days. An unplanned pregnancy with a man she scarcely knew, and now Ned wanted to grill her for more details? “What I said was in confidence!”
Ned raised his hands in a calming gesture. “I’ll admit I’m not shy about spreading the word when someone drops it in my hot little ears, but eavesdropping’s a different matter.”
“Good,” Erica said. “So what’s on your mind?”
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