by Lisa Plumley
He was utterly, completely, oblivious, Chloe realized with a sinking feeling. Even half-naked she couldn’t dredge up any non-platonic interest from him.
Any child they might have created together deserved more than a lovestruck mama and an indifferent daddy. She’d already been around that block, wearing diapers herself. She couldn’t let history repeat itself.
Knowing Nick, he’d feel obligated to “do the right thing,” no matter what his feelings were for her. She really couldn’t tell him the truth.
“The timer?” he asked again.
“Timer?” She fought an insane urge to drop her arms and flash him, just to get some sort of reaction. “Oh! The timer! No, thanks. It’ll turn off by itself in a minute.”
He shrugged. “Okay. You’d better hurry up, or Mr. Griggs will reschedule you again. I don’t know why you don’t just go to one of the bigger banks in Phoenix or—”
“I’ll be ready,” Chloe interrupted, hoping to forestall the inevitable, familiar avalanche of financial advice. Turning, she concentrated on pulling one of the few suits she owned from her closet without giving Nick a thirty-four B-size eyeful in the process.
“Tucson for your loan.” His gaze flicked over the red suit and matching pumps she threw on the bed. “You know, Red and Jerry would probably let you make payments directly to them for a while if that’s what it takes. I’ll bet—”
“No favors.” She added a halter-cut, pale-colored bodysuit to the pile. Arizona in April—even early April—demanded the coolest clothes possible.
“Chloe—”
“And no help, either.” She turned her back to Nick while she sorted through the beads and bangles and multihued earrings jumbled together in her jewelry box. “I can do this on my own. There’s no point involving Red and Jerry before I know I’ve got the bank behind me. I don’t want to get their hopes up—”
“Then disappoint them,” Nick finished. “I know, I know.”
Holding a gold hoop to one ear and a faux ruby-and-pearl stud to the other, Chloe turned. “Which do you think looks best?”
His mouth dropped open.
Wowsers, that was some kind of reaction to a pair of earrings. Note to myself: Ask Nick for jewelry opinions more often.
Wait a minute…his gaze was focused a whole lot lower than her ears. In fact, now that she looked closer, she realized he wasn’t even in the above-the-neck neighborhood. His dark-eyed gaze was aimed lower than that, closer to her…omigod, her naked breasts! Shrieking, Chloe hugged her arms over her chest, barely registering the cold kiss of the earrings still in her hands.
Nick whipped sideways, hiding his face by propping his arm on the door jamb. “Uh, they both look great to me.”
Both what? Both breasts or both earrings?
Scratch that. She probably didn’t really want to know the answer to that one.
“I meant the earrings,” Nick added.
“I figured.”
Sheesh! What had she been thinking? This pregnancy thing was turning her mind to mush. Her face burning, Chloe threw the earrings in her jewelry box and slammed the lid shut. She snatched her suit and clutched it, hanger and all, in front of her.
“But, uh, that’s really a nice pair of umm, umm…” His arm churned, trying to crank something smart to his brain. “I mean, the rest of you is really—dammit, Chloe! Put some clothes on, will you?”
“You’re blushing, Nick.”
“Like hell.”
“Your face is redder than my suit.”
“Nothing’s redder than that suit.”
He ducked his head and chanced a look from beneath his elbow. She could almost pinpoint the exact moment he realized she’d safely covered her “nice pair” from view, because his grin returned.
“You might get faster action on your loan if you tried the earring trick on Mr. Griggs.”
“Har, har.”
He came closer. She must have imagined that blush on his face, because now Nick looked as composed as ever. Not to mention as miserably unaffected by her—as a woman—as he ever had.
“Anyway,” she continued with a teasing smile, “I already tried that.”
“And?”
“And the man has no taste when it comes to earrings. He actually picked a rhinestone pair.”
She laughed at the look on his face, then met him halfway around the side of the bed, tucking her chin to her chest to secure the suit and hanger while she moved. “I’m kidding, you Neanderthal! What kind of woman do you think I am?”
“I think you’re a big old softie, worrying over Red and Jerry the way you do.”
He reached to help her hold up the curved metal hanger top, and his knuckle brushed warm against her chin. At the feel of his skin touching hers, Chloe’s knees went weak. The hanger wobbled in her hand, making her suit flutter in front of her.
“I think you’re going to get that loan of yours, or die trying.” Nick smiled and fingered her suit jacket. “And I think you’re going to be late if you don’t hurry up and shimmy into this thing.”
“Shimmy?”
He headed for the door, tapping a beat along the footboard of her sleigh bed.
“You think I ‘shimmy’?”
Nick shrugged and stepped into the hallway.
He thought she shimmied!
Officially, of course, she was incredibly offended. But—he thought she shimmied! Chloe grinned, just as Nick stuck his head around the doorjamb again.
“And one more thing.”
She put on a straight face.
“If things don’t work out with the bank today, you can always count on me.”
Awww. “I can’t ask you for help, Nick.”
“Sure, you can. The rest of us deserve a chance to play hero sometimes, too, you know.”
Sure. Chloe sighed and sank on her bed as he closed the door, leaving her alone. Would Nick really see instant unplanned fatherhood as an opportunity to be heroic? Or were those just so many words, words that were easy to say but hard to live up to?
There was only one way to find out.
She got dressed and ducked in the bathroom for one quick look at her destiny before leaving.
The blonde emerged from Saguaro Vista Cattleman’s Bank just as Nick glanced up from his hydroponics research notes. Her long legs flashed beneath her thigh-high red skirt as she clicked toward him with the kind of hip-swaying, high-heeled strides that destroyed brain cells in men everywhere. Halfway across the city center’s saltillo-tiled courtyard, she shrugged off her matching suit jacket and flipped it over her shoulder, trailing it by her fingertips over her back.
Her naked back. Her pert, perfect breasts bounced in the sunlight as she strolled through the mist given off by the tinkling courtyard fountain. Whaaa…? his brain asked, but his body already had the upper hand. Come on down, it said.
He blinked. The vision in red transformed itself into Chloe. Fully clothed, jacket-wearing, non-bouncing, just-pals Chloe.
This had to stop. Chloe was his friend, his best friend, not a potential between-inventions playmate. The women he dated weren’t like Chloe. She was e.e. cummings; they were Thoreau. She was mercury; they were iron. Chloe was bare feet and Ring Dings and touch football; they were designer shoes and haute cuisine and PTSO fundraisers. She was the sizzle; they were the steak.
And Nick was the overworked inventor who obviously needed to get out more.
No wonder Chloe’s dual-earring nudist impression had affected him so strongly this morning. The sight of her standing there with jewels in her hands and nothing but bare, silky skin below had brought every part of him to attention. It didn’t take a genius to realize he needed a break. His brain had obviously been forced to take drastic measures to shove the message through.
Cool it, he commanded himself. Chloe is your friend, not your fantasy woman.
His non-fantasy woman stopped in front of him, grabbed his sleeve, and thunked her forehead on his shoulder.
“Let’s go,” she mumbled int
o his chest.
Nick’s other concerns vanished. When Chloe did the shoulder clunk, it meant she needed him. “Awww, Chloe. What happened?”
She mumbled something into his T-shirt. He got as far as, “Effram Griggs is a shirt-tidied, misery grist beanie outback,” before interrupting.
“What was that part about his beanie?”
She beat her fist softly against his shoulder and made a frustrated sound. “I said,” Chloe told him, turning her head just enough to make her words heard, “that Effram Griggs is a short-sighted, misogynist weenie-throwback with delusions of grandeur and cigar stubs for brains.”
“He turned down your loan application again?”
“Again.” Miserably, Chloe nodded against his shoulder, giving him a mouthful of jaggedly cut blond hair.
He blew it away and hugged her one-handed, careful to keep his notebook wedged between his chest and her…curvy parts. Not even three inches of his chicken-scratched notes could block the alluring tropical scents of her shampoo and perfume, though. Too bad.
“I thought I’d start to wear him down by now!” She wriggled against him as though her frustration just had to have an outlet. “You know. Third time’s the charm, and all that?”
“There’s always next month.” After her second loan attempt, Griggs had refused to consider any applications she made with less than one month’s time between them.
The arbitrary, power-hungry jerk.
“I can’t wait another month!” she wailed.
“It looks as if you don’t have much choice.” Nick squeezed her a little closer. “In the meantime, it’s my job to cheer you up. What you need is Kahlúa and coffee and sympathy.”
Chloe stiffened in his arms. A sniffle sound came from somewhere near his collarbone, followed by something that sounded like, “Kahlúa hurts.”
Which didn’t make any sense at all. Taking over Red’s pet shop must have meant more to her than she’d let on. Why else would Chloe reject their time-tested cheer-up remedy?
“Ice cream?” Nick suggested. “A movie? A retro-style racquetball game? You can pretend the ball is Effram Grigg’s greasy gray toupee-wearing head.”
Another sniffle, but hard on its heels came a choked laugh. “Now there’s an idea.”
“Wait. I take it back.” He grinned. “With motivation like that, you’d probably cream me. I wouldn’t be able to hold up my head in public.”
At that, Chloe laughed outright. “It wouldn’t be the first time, you welsher.” She twisted her fingers in his T-shirt sleeve, then nestled closer and pressed her cheek against his chest, soaking up comfort as easily as she walloped a racquetball. “You still owe me a dinner from your last crushing defeat, remember?”
“I remember. One of these days, I swear I’m revoking that ‘do-over’ rule of yours.”
“Bully.”
“Cheater.”
“Pushover.”
Nailed, Nick admitted. If anyone could turn him into an easy mark, it was Chloe. “Maybe, but Effram Griggs isn’t. Running the only bank in town went straight to his head fifteen years ago. It’s only gotten worse since.”
She sniffled and raised her head, staring over his shoulder at the Cattleman’s Bank. If looks could burn, hers would have set fire to the building’s rustic southwestern façade.
“I guess the good-old-boy network still stands tough in Saguaro Vista,” she croaked, swiping her hand across her eyes. “Since I’m not a man or, worse, not one of Griggs’s poker buddies, it looks as if it’s back to the old drawing board.”
“Hey.” Nick thumbed her chin higher and examined her face. “Are you crying?”
She jerked her head sideways. “Who, me?” She brushed intently at something on his shoulder—a smudge of her candy-apple red lipstick, probably. “You know me. I never cry.”
“I know. That’s why I—”
“And I’m not now.” She frowned up at him, then slung her purse higher on her shoulder and took a deep breath. “Look, buying Red’s pet shop was just an idea, okay? Nobody knows about it but you. Nobody knows, nobody’s disappointed, and things go on the same way they did before.” Her voice cracked. “It’s no big deal.”
“You’re acting as if it’s a big deal,” he persisted.
Chloe wasn’t the type to get worked up over nothing. She wanted that loan to buy Red’s pet shop. It was important to her—mysteriously important. Nick wanted to know the reason why. There was definitely more going on here than met the eye.
“It doesn’t add up.” He examined her closely. “What’s special about getting this loan, this time? About getting it now?”
“Please don’t ask me that, Nick.”
“Chloe—”
She said nothing, just closed her eyes. When she opened them again, her slanted hazel-eyed gaze looked bright with determination.
“It’s just time I started acting like the responsible adult I am, that’s all.” She swiveled on a burst of new energy, her high heels clicking on the tiled courtyard. “I do a good job running Red’s pet store, and I’d be an equally good pet store owner. I’m not going to let Effram Griggs and his old cronies stand in my way. I’ll find a way to convince him yet.”
“There’s always a Phoenix bank.”
“No.”
“Or an assumable loan. Talk to Red and Jerry. What have you got to lose?”
“It’s not what I have to lose. It’s what they have to lose. I’m not telling them until everything’s all set.” On tiptoes, she stuck her face in his. “And you’re keeping mum, too, mister. Not a word about this to anyone, okay?”
Nick held up two fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
She gave him a sassy grin and looked him up and down. “You’re no boy scout, Steadman.”
Not with the kind of thoughts he’d been having about her lately, he wasn’t. And Chloe was no damned campfire girl, either—not with the secrets she’d been keeping.
He still wanted to know what they were.
“I still know how to light a fire.” He grinned. “It’s all in the way you lay the kindling.”
She quirked her lips. “Save it for your breathless admirers, Smokey. I’ve got things to do.”
Yeah. Mysterious things.
Turning, she headed for the parking area with a little less sizzle in her stride and a lot more secrets than he’d suspected whirling in that crazy blond head of hers. Suddenly, Chloe seemed something Nick had never imagined she could be—a woman of mystery.
He put his hand on her shoulder from behind, slowing her down to his speed. Beneath her sleek business-suit armor, her neck and shoulder muscles tensed like knotted steel. This particular loan denial had been especially hard for Chloe to take. He wanted to know why.
Hell, as her friend, it was practically his duty to find out why.
“Wait up.” He tucked his notebook beneath his elbow and kneaded her shoulders with both hands, hoping to coax out some of the tension and all of the truth. Her secret was getting bigger, and it was driving him crazy. “I was serious back there. You’ve tried for this loan three times now, and struck out every time—”
“Thanks, Mr. Encouragement.”
“You’re welcome. Anyway, three strikes now, and you’ve never been this upset before. What’s so special about this time?”
“You don’t want to come with me, Nick?” Chloe whirled to face him just as they reached his motorcycle. “Is that what this is all about? You’ve got better things to do, I’ll bet. Like work yourself to death, maybe, or—”
“Hold on—”
She flashed him a belligerent look. “You know it’s true. Admit it.”
“Like hell, I will!” She sounded just like the rest of his family—every one of them a proponent of shorter workdays, less ambition, and family, family, family…regardless of the cost.
She jutted her chin. “Have it your way. Live in denial. Live alone! It’s none of my business.”
“Aww, Chloe. Not you, too.”
She shrugged
. “I’m your friend, not your…whatever.” Her voice cracked. “You don’t owe me anything. Not even an explanation for why you don’t want to drive me to the bank anymore.”
“Wait a minute. I never said I wouldn’t drive you to the bank anymore.” Chick logic. He’d never understand it. “Where did that come from?”
Her eyes welled up with—he’d swear it—honest-to-God tears. That’s how Nick knew it was a trick. Chloe never cried, especially not at advantageous moments like this one. But he still felt like hell anyway.
“Aww, come on. Just because I don’t want to turn into Joe Family Man like every other Steadman doesn’t mean I won’t help you when you need it.”
“I don’t need it.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.” She sniffed and held out her arms for her helmet.
Nick handed her the purple metallic one she used, feeling vaguely as though he’d been outmaneuvered. He couldn’t pinpoint why…until he remembered what they’d been talking about before.
“Anyway, what’s so important about this one particular loan application?”
She stopped midway through putting on her helmet. With trembling hands, she slowly pulled it the rest of the way over her head. Buying time to think up another sidetracking tactic, he’d bet. What was her secret?
When her face came in view again, she was grinning.
“Like a dog with a bone, aren’t you?”
“Ruff.”
“Ha, ha.” Chloe hitched up her skirt and straddled his motorcycle, something he’d probably seen her do a million times—but never to this effect. Suddenly, the April sunshine took on a searing, dizzying quality.
“Am I driving, or you?”
She blinked up at him calmly, just as though most of her thighs weren’t bared for the whole wide world to see. Didn’t she realize what a sight like that could do to a guy who wasn’t her best platonic male friend?
“I’m driving,” Nick gritted out.
“Okay.” Chloe unbuttoned her suit jacket and shrugged it off her shoulders. For real this time. Her bare skin gleamed in the reflected glare from his bike’s hot chrome.
