by JM Stewart
“First thing you’re going to do”—he moved to stand in front of her and lifted her chin with two fingers, offering a smile—“is change.”
“Thanks.” She accepted the clothing and returned a watery smile but didn’t move.
The need to see a genuine smile hit him hard and fast. He’d never been able to stand seeing the women he cared about cry, Ceci especially. Tears in her eyes left him helpless and brought out a strong protective urge. He’d always known he’d do whatever he had to in order to lighten her load. The same need hit him now.
“They’ll be big on you, I’m sure.” He flashed a teasing grin and darted an obvious glance at her waist. “The sweats have a drawstring that should keep them from falling off those little hips of yours.”
It was a stupid thing to say to her, really, but it had the desired effect. The soft laugh she let out was music to his ears, and the glimmer that flitted through the depths of her eyes made his chest swell in triumph. Now that was more like it.
“They won’t be little for long.” She glanced at herself and shook her head before moving around him and into his bedroom.
When the door clicked shut, he let out a heavy sigh and sagged back against the wall. He squeezed his eyes closed, conjuring the facts from the latest homicide case he and Marsha worked. Anything to keep from picturing Ceci undressing in his bedroom. The thoughts alone made his chest ache and had guilt rising over him. She hadn’t come here for him to ogle her. She’d come because she needed him. As her friend.
The wicked images came anyway, taunting his mind with what he couldn’t have. To be the one to peel away her wet clothing. To feel her bare, slender curves beneath him, her silky skin sliding against his.
Damn. He’d first realized his feelings for her changed three years ago, just before her grandmother’s death. Ceci had asked for help digging up information on her parents. Unfortunately, he hadn’t discovered what he’d expected to. Instead of adoptions records, he’d uncovered a nightmare, one that had put the puzzle pieces together very clearly in his mind. The bad dreams Ceci had suffered from for years weren’t the mere workings of an overactive imagination. She’d witnessed her parents’ murder. The police had put her and her grandmother into Witness Protection. Ceci wasn’t Ceci at all, but a little girl with a new name and no conscious memory of her previous identity.
Not knowing what to do with the information, he’d gone to her grandmother first. Surely there was a reason Ceci didn’t remember? Or had no idea?
The funny part was, her gran was the one to point out his feelings for Ceci had changed when she begged him to keep the information to himself. Her quiet words replayed through his mind. If you love her, Kyle, and I know you do—I’ve seen the way you look at her—please, you have to do this for me. If he gets to her . . . The fear in her pale blue eyes had convinced him.
He hadn’t been able to look at Ceci the same since. He’d hoped if he simply didn’t acknowledge the erroneous feelings, they’d go away. Six months ago, though, she’d started dating Jimmy. Their relationship made Kyle nuts. The guy had player written all over him, and he tended to talk down to her. More than a few times Kyle had walked away for fear of decking the asshole. His instantaneous reactions to the guy had caused more than a few arguments between him and Ceci.
It had taken him months to see the emotions for what they were—jealousy. Jimmy made him see red because he had everything Kyle coveted, yet he treated her like she was nothing special. He couldn’t count on both hands the number of times he’d thought, If she were my girl. . . .
Six months ago, he’d finally decided he had to put some distance between him and Ceci or risk ruining their friendship and going against the promise he’d made to her grandmother. He’d either go crazy or she’d end up hating him. The problem was, doing so was easier said than done. They’d seen each other several times a week for years. They spoke daily, usually in between shifts, sometimes even at two in the morning. When he had a bad night, he called her. When she had news to share, she called him. Now, he was lucky if he spoke to her once a week. Sometimes the only time he saw or spoke to her was at family dinner on Sundays.
He hated it, but he did it for his sanity’s sake, to keep those lines firmly in place. He could never allow himself to contemplate a romance with Ceci knowing he kept secrets from her, that he essentially lied to her. They’d always promised each other honesty.
One look at the vulnerability in her eyes, though, and six months of hard work came undone. Now it was as if nothing had changed. He was caught between acting like the friend she needed and the “more” his poor, misguided heart yearned to be. Regret tightened in his chest at the thought. He was also entirely too aware he shouldn’t be thinking about any of this. He ought to be focusing on her needs. One look at her tears and all he could think about was how much he yearned to take her in his arms and make her forget about Jimmy. God, he was such an ass.
The bedroom door opened, jarring him from his tangled thoughts, and he turned his head. Ceci stood awkwardly in the bedroom doorway, wearing his clothing, and for a moment, the sight of her caught him. At five foot ten, she stood taller than most women he knew. Feminine curves replaced the boyish figure he remembered from their childhood. Curves that looked mind-blowing in whatever she wore. His sweats hung on her slender form, swamping her lean legs, and the soft cotton T-shirt hung past her rump, but if you asked him, she looked incredible.
She also looked nervous. As she caught his gaze, she flashed a tight, forced smile but remained rooted to the spot, her back a little too stiff, her eyes shifty and edgy.
“Thank you.” Her hands slid up and down her arms, as if it was a soothing gesture.
Tension mounted in the air like a wall slowly erecting between them. When she dropped her gaze to the floor and her fingers slipped up into her hair to toy with the ends, bells sounded in his head. She was nervous. Why on earth would she be nervous around him?
Determined to set her at ease, he tossed her a smile and pushed away from the wall. “Feel better?”
“Much. I’m not so cold anymore. I’m sorry.” She shook her head. “I didn’t mean to come here and dump all this on you. I started walking—”
“In the pouring rain, no less.”
She pursed her lips, regret written in her eyes, as she finally stepped out into the hallway. She halted in front of him, that look of confusion moving over her features again. “You opened the door and everything kind of exploded. I needed you. You always make me feel better.”
In her soft gaze, the answer to his quandary hit him, and his chest tightened. It seemed he’d succeeded after all in putting some distance between them. A little too well. Ceci sensed it, reacted to it, and was actually uncomfortable in his presence.
A knot of regret twisted in his stomach. What he wanted, more than anything, was to take her in his arms again, to eradicate the ever-growing rift between them, but he wasn’t sure he trusted himself. Being that close to her these days sent him into a tailspin of confusing emotions. Whether he wanted it to or not, his body reacted to her nearness, and it made him feel like a heel every time. What kind of a friend was he that he noticed how good she looked when what mattered was that she needed him? He couldn’t stop the wayward thoughts, though, and he wasn’t certain he had the right to touch her anymore. Hell, he didn’t know what to do anymore. He’d lost the boundary somewhere, and he hadn’t the foggiest idea where it was or how to act around her.
Still, the need to be closer, emotionally as well as physically, fired through him, too strong to ignore. He’d deal with the consequences to his sanity, but he couldn’t stand the tension between them. He’d known her since he was ten, yet somehow they’d become strangers, and his entire body rebelled against the idea.
“It’s okay. That’s what I’m here for. So, tell me what happened.” He set his hand on her shoulder, stroking with his thumb in an effort to soothe and
encourage, hoping to replace the awkwardness with the connection they’d always shared. “I take it you told Jimmy?”
She gave a small nod. “Two weeks ago.”
He lifted a shoulder. “So, what’d he say?”
She remained silent for a moment, chewing on her lower lip, as if caught in indecision. Finally, she drew in a deep, shaky breath, fire igniting her eyes.
“He was awful. He actually denied the baby was his. Can you believe that?” She drew her brows together and put her hands to her hips, glaring as if her predicament were his fault. “He was my first, for God’s sake. My only. How could it be anyone else’s?”
Kyle couldn’t stop his eyes from widening or his mouth from dropping open. “Your first? You’re kidding me.”
They’d known each other for twenty years. They’d always told each other everything. Sex, however, was the one subject they didn’t discuss, and he couldn’t hide his shock.
“No, I’m not.” Color stole into her cheeks, and she diverted her gaze to the floor. Her left hand slipped up to toy with the ends of her hair.
“I’m sorry. You surprised me with that last bit. I lost my virginity when I was sixteen in the back of Pam Waters’s Honda.” He let out a nervous laugh and squeezed her fingers. “Keep going. Tell me what happened.”
She sighed. “That’s about it. You were right. Jimmy’s an ass.”
Regret tightened in his chest. Damn.
He shot her an apologetic frown. “I didn’t want to be. I just didn’t like the way he treated you. He talked down to you sometimes, and it made me crazy. You deserve better than that. What’d he say?”
Ceci looked down at the floor, flexing her toes into the linoleum flooring. Dejection hung on her, rounding shoulders, as if it weighed her down.
“I should have listened. I found out I was pregnant about a month ago. It took me two weeks to work up the courage to tell him. Two weeks ago, I invited him over and I finally told him. God, I was terrified. I honestly had no idea how he’d react, but I didn’t expect . . . that. At first he just stood there, staring at me like I’d grown two more heads. Then his face screwed up in anger. He jabbed a finger at me and told me if I wanted a cent from him I’d have to prove he was the father. Then he stormed from the house.”
Kyle bit the inside of his cheek to keep his reaction from leaving his mouth. Ceci didn’t need to hear negativity right now, but the significance of her words struck his heart like a wayward arrow. The green-eyed monster reared its ugly head. She gave the schmuck something special, a gift. Something he’d kill to have received from her. Except Jimmy took it for granted, used her, and spit her out. To top it all off, the schmuck left her alone and pregnant. The cop in him couldn’t help wondering exactly how many times Jimmy had heard those words before.
He drew in a deep breath to stem the intense desire to find Jimmy and put a dent in his jaw and instead reached up to pull her hand from her hair, holding it in his.
Before he could gather his thoughts, she lifted her gaze, her brows drawn together in an apologetic frown. “I’m sorry. I came at a bad time. I’m going to make you late for work.”
Work. Right. He raked a hand through his hair, not caring that the ends were probably all sticking straight up, and glanced at the digital clock on his nightstand. Technically, he had five minutes to get dressed before he needed to leave. Traffic on Meridian could be hell this time of day. If he didn’t leave soon, he’d be late.
“Yeah, I need to finish getting dressed. Captain’ll kill me if I’m late again.” He stroked his thumb across her knuckles, returned the same awkward smile, and forced himself to release her hand. Then he slipped past her into his bedroom, yanking off his wet T-shirt.
***
Cecelia’s heartbeat thundered in her ears as Kyle trekked across the bedroom. As he tossed his plain white T-shirt onto the bed, she swallowed hard, unable to stop from staring in abject fascination at his now-bare torso. Kyle had a sleek, strong back, with thick, broad shoulders and a wide chest that tapered to a narrow waist and lean hips. Memories of summers past flitted across the recesses of her mind. Him wearing only a pair of khaki shorts, his bronzed skin glimmering beneath the sun. Heat curled low in her belly, her fingers itching to reach out and touch him.
“You might want to turn around.” He tossed her a glance as he tugged a clean shirt over his head and crossed the room to the metal, two-drawer file cabinet that served as his nightstand.
Cecelia clasped her shaking hands together until the knuckles turned white and jerked her gaze to his face. She prayed he couldn’t see the way hers caught fire. God, she had to stop doing that. He was her best friend, for crying out loud. She couldn’t pinpoint when exactly the thoughts started, but somewhere over the past three or four months, Kyle stopped being just Kyle.
The truth was, he was right about Jimmy. Jimmy could be sweet when he wanted to be, but when she wouldn’t give him what he wanted or cave to his demands, he could be a downright jerk. She and Kyle had argued a lot about the way he treated her, and every time they’d fight, she’d find herself comparing the two men. Sadly, Jimmy always came up short.
More to the point, Jimmy’s lacking had her looking at Kyle differently, more so since she’d discovered she was pregnant. Hormones had her libido running amuck. The truth was, Kyle was good to the women he dated. He was sweet and kind and thoughtful, and he was a one-woman man. She discovered too late that Jimmy wasn’t. Before they broke up, one of the girls at the flower shop finally admitted to seeing him with another woman.
And somewhere over the past few months, Kyle stopped being the guy she’d known since before she liked boys. Suddenly, she noticed the man. The broadness of his shoulders. The curves of his well-defined biceps. The crooked smile she’d seen for twenty years began to make her heart skip a beat, and his gentle, giving nature made her stomach flutter in a very “schoolgirl with a crush” sort of way.
The thoughts always came out of nowhere, immediate and powerful, leaving her struggling with where in the world they’d come from. Kyle would pull her into a hug, the way he’d done her whole life, and she’d be noticing the hard muscle of his chest instead of relaxing into his embrace.
It made her doubt herself and filled her with questions. Had the thoughts always been there and she simply hadn’t seen them? She didn’t know, and she didn’t know what to do with them, except push them aside. Because falling for Kyle meant risking losing him and she couldn’t—wouldn’t—go there. Rational or not, he was the only family she had left, and the thought of losing him, too, scared her to death.
“Unless you’re feeling braver these days.” Kyle arched a brow as he pulled his keys from the pocket of his khakis and tossed them to the bed. He picked up a light blue dress shirt and shoved his right arm into the sleeve.
With an indrawn gasp, Cecelia clamped her hands over her eyes and spun around but managed to control the urge to flee the room altogether. That meant only one thing—Kyle was about to strap on his gun. All thoughts of her newfound attraction to her best friend deserted her. In their place, the icy hands of fear wrapped around her throat. Her heart began its familiar fierce thumping, her chest already tightening.
Oh God. She hated guns.
She took deep breaths. Desperate to distract herself, she latched onto the first thought to enter her mind. “I don’t know why you have to have that thing.”
Breathe. Just breathe.
Okay, so she did. She’d watched him go through college, then the police academy, from a rookie patrolling the streets to earning his promotion to detective a few years ago. All that mattered right then was talking, ignoring the sounds memory told her would follow as he strapped the weapon to his body. She’d been here before, had watched him as he prepared his weapon and strapped on the holster. Talking always helped divert her thoughts, helped her to ignore the fear that already overwhelmed her system.
She had no idea where the fear came from or how it had started, but for as long as she could remember, guns had always terrified her. She’d seen a therapist for it for a while to no avail. The mere sight of one sent her heart pounding out of control. Her palms grew clammy, and her lungs refused to function. Exactly how she felt now. It was as if she stared down the barrel of one and waited for someone to pull the trigger and end her life.
A panic attack, her therapist had called it. Clearly, she had a phobia. Hoplophobia, he’d told her. Not that giving her fears a name ever stopped the attacks from coming. The panic rose immediate and uncontrollable. That Kyle wore a gun every day scared her to death. It meant he might have to use it, which meant facing the possibility of him getting shot. And the thought of losing him wasn’t something she wanted to ponder.
“I’m a cop. It’s part of the uniform.” Kyle repeated his part of the conversation, his voice somber, understanding. “Keep talking. I’m almost done.”
The sound of metal sliding against metal sounded in the silence, followed by a click, sending goose bumps shivering down her spine. Her stomach lurched, and gruesome images popped into her thoughts. Blood spreading across a floor, bullet wounds, cold, lifeless bodies with sightless eyes. Where they came from, she didn’t know, but they resembled the horrible nightmares that had plagued her off and on since childhood.
“You know, you can always force Jimmy’s hand if he won’t come willingly. In fact, you should. He doesn’t get to decide he doesn’t want to be a father. A blood test is all it takes.”
His comment dragged her mind back to the subject she didn’t want to think about anymore that night. Namely, her unexpected pregnancy and all the tangled emotions it wrought. The tightening in her chest eased a fraction but didn’t completely let up.
She took another slow, deep breath and released it, then grabbed Kyle’s conversation thread and ran with it.
“No.” She shook her head, but the thought had anger and hurt rising all over again. She’d wanted her relationship with Jimmy to last. She had yet to have her first love, and she was beginning to wonder if something was wrong with her that she hadn’t. “It’s not like I need the money. The house is paid for. The flower shop covers the rest of the bills, and I still have the trust fund Gran gave me when I turned twenty-one. I haven’t needed to use it yet, but it’s there if I ever do. If he doesn’t want to be a part of this, then I don’t need or want his help.”
