by Judy Duarte
“The margaritas are the best in town,” Nick told Hailey. “You ought to try one.”
She reached for a chip and slowly shook her head. “No, thanks. I’d better pass on the alcohol.”
“Why?” Nick asked, although he assumed it was because of her earlier stomach problems.
She seemed to ponder the question—or maybe just her response—then flashed him a dimpled grin. “Let’s just say I’d like to keep my wits about me.”
So she’d felt it, too. The attraction. Yet he suspected there was more going on than that. He’d felt it each time she’d taken his hand, each time she’d touched his arm or tugged at the sleeve of his shirt and pointed at something of interest.
And like a sap, he’d been happy to look, to smile, to laugh.
They’d grown familiar with each other today. Comfortable. And it felt good.
He couldn’t help but wonder if a repeat of that passionate, snowbound night was in the cards. The rebel in him hoped so. And for the life of him, he couldn’t seem to come up with a reason why making love one more time would be so bad. He slid her a crooked smile. “Afraid a little alcohol will cause you to lose your head around me?”
“It happened before.”
Yeah. They’d both lost their heads that house-bound evening in Minnesota. And he figured Hailey, too, was contemplating not only the past, but the very near future.
Still, this was the closest they’d actually come to broaching the subject they’d both been avoiding. They’d merely tiptoed around it last night, when they’d talked about women and orgasms—real and fake. But this was the first time either of them had hinted at the temptation of sleeping together again. Of turning a one-night stand into two nights. Maybe three.
The magnitude of anything more with Hailey made Nick squirm in his seat, so he decided to change the subject—at least until they got home.
“I’ll have a Mexican beer,” he told the waitress.
Hailey ordered a soda.
“And could you bring us a bowl of guacamole?”
“Sure,” the dark-haired woman said. “Would you like anything else?”
“How about something to eat?” he asked Hailey. “Pablo makes a great fish taco.”
“That sounds good to me.” She leaned toward the sound of the mariachis, her face lighting up as she watched the trio of men playing guitars and singing words in Spanish.
Nick understood the language well enough to know the Latino musicians sang a romantic ballad, and even that didn’t put a damper on his mood.
Ten minutes later the waitress brought them a bowl of guacamole and two plates laden with beans, rice and tacos.
Nick watched as Hailey took another chip and scooped at the melted cheese atop the beans and popped it into her mouth. Apparently her nervous stomach had abated since this morning, because she soon began to chow down as if she hadn’t had a meal in days.
She glanced up from her plate, a smile gracing her lips. “You were right. This fish taco is delicious.”
When she’d finished her meal, every last bite, she licked at a dribble of something or other from her lips.
The sensuous movement of her tongue brought on a rush of heated memories and new desires.
Nick wasn’t sure how Hailey would feel about making love for old-times’ sake. But he’d be hard-pressed not to suggest it. Tonight. When they got home.
That evening, in Nick’s loft apartment, Hailey stood before the window that looked over the city. A million tiny lights sparkled, proving that life went on after dark. And it would go on for her, too.
Something happened today, although she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. But things had changed between her and Nick.
She supposed that was good. At least she’d come to know and understand the man who’d fathered her baby. And she liked him—as a person. He might be a little rough around the edges, but he had a tender side. She’d seen it when he gave in and rode the merry-go-round, something that probably hadn’t been easy for a hard-edged cop.
Of course, the fact Nick hid a soft side and Hailey had come to see him in a different light still didn’t change the obvious—they weren’t suited and there could never be anything permanent or lasting between them. But at least she could tell her child that his or her father was a good man. A conscientious detective who wasn’t cut out to be a dad, to be part of a family.
Nick stepped up behind her, placed a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve sure been pensive tonight.”
She wanted to tilt her head, lay her cheek against his knuckles. Instead she turned, faced him. “There’ve been a lot of changes in my life.”
He would probably assume she meant with Harry, and she did, to an extent. But the biggest change was the pregnancy and the growing attraction she felt toward her baby’s father, a man who didn’t fit into her carefully laid plans for a family of her own. A man who didn’t even want to.
He caught her cheek in his hand, brushed his thumb across her skin, causing a warm flurry of tingles to race through her blood and settle low in her belly. His gaze lanced hers, slicing through the walls around her heart, opening old wounds and promising to heal them—at least momentarily. “You’re a great lady, Hailey.”
Was she?
She didn’t feel so great. Not now. Not when she wanted to forget all her carefully laid plans and wrap her arms around the handsome detective who made her weak in the knees. Not when she wanted to pull him close, to convince them both that they should start right where they’d left off in Minnesota. To throw caution to the wind.
She desperately wanted to forget about the unexpected changes in her life, at least for the moment.
But did she dare?
You’re a great lady, he had said. She wanted to be, at least in someone’s eyes.
“I’m not anything special, Nick. I’m just trying to do the right thing. For me. For everyone involved.” By everyone, she included the baby he didn’t know about.
Would their son or daughter have his coffee-brown eyes? His crooked smile? His rebel spirit?
She hoped so, for some strange reason. Maybe so she could remember Nick, long after she’d gone back to Minnesota. But she made a conscious effort not to think about the future. Not tonight.
He bent his head to place a kiss on her lips, and she closed her eyes, leaned into him, accepting whatever he had to offer.
Nick took Hailey in his arms, giving in to the temptation to hold her again, abandoning all thoughts of right and wrong. He refused to think about tomorrow, about her returning to Minnesota, about where that would leave them. Where it might leave him.
Hailey triggered some weird, mushy feelings he’d never felt before. But he refused to focus on anything other than the taste of her kiss, the arousal building to mega proportions.
He ran his hands along her back, claiming each curve as his own, branding the feel of her into his memory.
As she leaned forward, pressed hard against his erection, matching his arousal with her own, she opened her mouth, allowing his tongue to sweep inside, to mate vigorously with hers.
He slipped a hand under her sweater, sought the heat of her skin, the softness of her breasts. And she lifted an arm, allowing him access. He’d never wanted a woman like this one, never wanted to make love so badly. To lose himself in her.
Had his arousal not been so strong, so mindless, he might have been scared spitless by what he felt for her. As it was, he had no choice but to take her to bed, to love her with his mouth, his hands. His body.
He palmed the lace-covered mound of her breast, then fumbled with the snap of her bra. A sense of urgency swept over him, and he fought the impulse to rip off her clothes in some primal, caveman-like way, to have her naked and writhing under him. To bury himself deep in her softness.
But he was a patient man—when he wanted to be. When he needed to be. And he intended to make love to Hailey with a slow hand. Even if it damn near killed him.
She pulled her mouth from his, her brea
th coming in short, ragged pants. “I know this isn’t a good idea, and we may be sorry tomorrow—”
“Let’s not think about tomorrow.” Nick scooped her into his arms and carried her behind the screen, to his bed. He let her slide the length of him, along the denim and metal buttons that held a demanding erection.
Passion glazed her eyes. He might not be a mind reader, but he could read her body. Sense her need.
And she wanted him, just as badly as he wanted her.
Hailey wasn’t going to think about tomorrow, not until dawn brought a new day, a new worry. Tonight she would pretend that she and Nick had something special, something that neither of them would ever find with anyone else. In tonight’s world of make-believe, they would hold forever in the palm of their hands.
She slipped the sweater over her head and dropped it to the floor, and as Nick watched, desire brewing in his gaze, she removed the bra that loosely covered her breasts.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, his voice laced with emotion—appreciation, sincerity.
Love?
Surely not, but she allowed herself the fantasy, the belief that what they were about to do, the joining, was right. A forever kind of thing, although she feared the only thing lasting would be the memory.
He unbuttoned his shirt, slipped it over his shoulders, baring his chest to her, and she ran her hands over the taut, corded muscles he must have worked hard to maintain. He sported a jagged scar near his left shoulder she hadn’t noticed before. An old knife wound, she suspected, yet it didn’t mar his good looks. Instead it added depth to his character, a hard edge that revealed he often challenged danger.
She reached for him, pressed her breasts against his chest, felt him skin to skin. “Love me,” she whispered, the words taking all kinds of twists and turns that she wasn’t about to contemplate. Not now.
And he did love her. With his hands, his mouth, his tongue.
When she didn’t think she could take any more without having him inside her, he pulled away, but not before kissing her brow.
“We made a mistake last time,” he said, reaching into the nightstand beside his bed and retrieving a condom. “I won’t let that happen again.”
Hailey nearly told him not to bother, that he didn’t need to protect them from pregnancy. But she wasn’t ready to reveal her secret. Wasn’t ready to put a stop to their lovemaking, which a revelation like that was sure to do. Instead she bit her lip and watched as he unrolled the condom.
And after he’d made the unnecessary effort to protect them from pregnancy, he took her in his arms again, kissing her with a passion she’d never known. And when he laid her down on the bed and hovered over her, she forgot all about the secret she kept, all about the reasons why they could never become more than temporary lovers.
She wanted him now. Hard. Demanding. Yet he entered her slowly, as though savoring the moment, the warmth, the softness. The intimacy.
She arched up to meet him, and they were both lost in a swirl of heat, a rush of passion.
Like the very first time they’d made love, this joining was the kind that blazed a memory on the heart and soul.
In tandem, they both reached a mountainous crest. And in the blink of an eye, the beat of a heart, they climaxed in a star-spinning, earth-shattering burst of fulfillment that carried them to a faraway place, a place where intimacy thrived.
And when the last wave of pleasure passed, they held on to each other, as though afraid to lose contact, to lose what they’d found in each other’s arms.
Yet, as much as Hailey would like to cling to Nick, to a relationship with him, the memory of their lovemaking would have to be enough.
Because Nick had made himself clear.
He wasn’t daddy material.
And he didn’t want to be.
Chapter Eleven
Nick held Hailey throughout the night, drawing comfort from the apricot scent of her shampoo, from the gentle rise and fall of her chest.
Not a cuddler by nature, his need to keep her close during sleep surprised him, as did the contentment he felt at having her near. In fact, with her bottom cradled in his lap and his arm draped across her breast, he rested better than he had in ages.
Until the alarm clock blasted a rude wake-up call.
Nick rolled to the side, away from Hailey, and fumbled with the button on the old-style, windup clock he always used. Technology might be great in many respects, but some things couldn’t be improved upon—like knowing the damn alarm would work even if the electricity went out.
Hailey, eyes still closed, arched her back and yawned. “It doesn’t feel like morning.”
He brushed a tendril of hair from her face and kissed her cheek. “Time to get up, sleepyhead.”
“I know.”
Harry’s surgery was scheduled for eight that morning, and if they arrived early enough, they could see him before he was wheeled through the O.R. doors.
“Want me to shower first?” he asked. “Or should I go down to the corner for coffee?”
She tugged at the sheets, pulling them up to her chin, then rolled over, making her answer known. “Don’t forget my tea.”
He had a feeling she’d use the time to lie in bed, rather than shower. If not for the upcoming surgery, he wouldn’t mind if she stayed in his bed all day. He started to kiss her again, but thought better of it. When had he begun having such sappy feelings?
It had to be the sex. He’d never had a lover who turned him inside out. Who made him want to stay in bed longer than was emotionally savvy.
Yeah. That was it.
He raked a hand through his hair. “We need to leave in about twenty minutes.”
“I’ll be ready,” she said, before placing a pillow over her head.
He didn’t know how long it would take for her to do the things women did to get dressed, but he figured the hardest part would be getting mentally ready. Maybe that’s what she hoped to do while he was gone, what she was doing now, cocooned in his bed. He hoped so.
Because today would prove to be stressful for them both.
Not only did Nick worry about his old friend and mentor, he also wanted to stand by Hailey, offer her his support. His friendship.
It was the least he could do for her.
True to her word, she was up and in the shower when he returned with the coffee and tea. And an hour later, they entered Harry’s hospital room.
The old detective smiled, and his eyes lit up. Happy to see them, no doubt.
But would Harry be happy to know his daughter and the guy he’d taken under his wing had spent most of the night making love? It had never been easy to pull a fast one on Harry. The detective was too sharp, too instinctive.
“So,” Harry said. “You two look chipper.”
Did he suspect they’d become lovers?
Nick shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “I’ve always been a morning person.”
“Not me,” Hailey said.
Another difference between them, Nick supposed.
“I hope you got a chance to see San Diego,” Harry said. Nick wondered if he also hoped Hailey would like the harbor town, consider visiting more often. Maybe even move here.
But Harry hadn’t seen her house in Walden, the little place she’d made into home.
No, Nick didn’t think she’d be willing to give that place up. He wouldn’t, if he were her. Well, he wouldn’t if he needed a nest like that.
“Nick showed me the sights yesterday,” Hailey said. “He even rode the Balboa Park merry-go-round with me.”
“He did?” Harry shot him one of those You-did-what? looks.
Nick merely shrugged, hoping word of this didn’t reach the precinct. If any of the guys found out, he’d never hear the end of it.
“And that’s not all,” Hailey said, causing Nick to squirm.
His thoughts immediately flew to last night, to the lovemaking. Nah, she wouldn’t mention that. Not to her dad.
“He took
me to Old Town, where we sat and listened to the mariachis.”
“Sounds kind of romantic,” Harry said.
“No, it doesn’t,” Nick countered, a bit louder and sharper than necessary. “I was just being a nice guy and taking her places you would have taken her, if you could have.”
“Nick’s a nice guy, all right.” Hailey gave Nick a look he found hard to decipher, then slid her father a smile.
They chatted for a while, then Hailey and Nick wished Harry well. As they left the room, a nurse’s aid passed by with a cart of breakfast trays. The scent of hospital food filled the air.
Nick was about to guide Hailey to the waiting room, when she muttered, “Nervous stomach.”
Then she quickly excused herself and rushed down the hall.
Just after Harry had been wheeled into surgery, Hailey excused herself from Nick’s side, intending to slip into the bathroom again.
“Are you sick?” Nick had asked, concern and disbelief mingling on his face.
“No,” she’d quickly answered. “Just a sensitive stomach when stressed.”
Apparently, he’d believed her. Thank goodness. There was no way she wanted the detective to suspect the real reason for her nausea.
“You want me to wait outside for you?” he’d asked, as she neared the bathroom.
“Go on and join the others. I’ll just be a minute.” Then she ducked behind the rest room door and quickly chose an empty stall. When the heaving ceased, she splashed her face with cool water and blotted it dry.
Her tummy temporarily settled, Hailey stood in the entryway of the waiting room.
The walls were a soft shade of green and adorned with strips of floral-printed wallpaper that added a homey touch. Overstuffed sofas and love seats, upholstered in coordinating patterns, had been strategically placed, creating small, intimate areas. And, as an added touch, fresh flowers and plants on oak tables provided a cozy charm.
The decorator, it seemed, had tried to create a comfortable place for people to await the outcome of a loved one’s surgery. Yet Hailey didn’t feel any calming effects. Her nerves were on high alert.
