“What’s up?” he asked.
Jeff tossed him a folder. “What the hell were you thinking? Dammit, Zane, you could have told me what you were going to do.”
Zane flipped through the pages of the computer activity report. “You would have told me not to. Technically we’re partners and you can’t order me around, but you would have tried to convince me it was a bad idea.”
Jeff glared at him. “It was a bad idea. Do you have any idea how many laws you broke last night.”
Nicki figured she might as well join the fray. “I have the actual count, if you’d like it.”
Jeff turned his laserlike stare on her. “You’re in enough trouble already.”
She sighed. “I know. But just for the breaking and entering, and turning off the security system. And the fire alarms.” She considered the number. “Okay, so it was a lot of laws.”
Zane shot her a grin. She held in a smile. Jeff wasn’t amused.
“I’m glad you two think this is so damn funny, but I don’t. Our company has a reputation to uphold. We don’t go around breaking the law for our own purposes.”
Zane raised his eyebrows. Jeff shoved his hands in his pockets. “Only under extreme circumstances,” he amended.
“I was helping out a friend,” Zane said.
Jeff’s gazed narrowed. “You should have told me what you were going to do.”
“I couldn’t. If it went bad, I didn’t want you or anyone in the company implicated.”
“Nicki knew,” Jeff said.
“Sure, but she’d never say anything.”
Zane’s casual acceptance of her loyalty was both gratifying and annoying. She felt like the faithful family retainer…or a favorite dog.
“You could have gotten her in a lot of trouble,” Jeff said.
For the first time since swaggering into her office, Zane actually squirmed.
“I couldn’t have done it without her,” he said.
“That’s right,” she told Jeff. “Zane’s pretty useless.”
Now they were both glaring at her. She shrugged.
Jeff started to speak, but Zane cut him off. “My friend had been working two years on the prototype. These guys stole it and he wanted it back. I said I’d help him. I had to, Jeff. I owed him.”
Nicki knew a few details about Zane’s background. He’d been in the Marines where he’d done a lot of things he didn’t talk about. Jeff had the same sort of background. Several years ago the two of them had met up and started the company.
Neither of them talked about their past, nor did they ever sit around telling war stories. But every now and then, something came out. A new piece of information, a whisper of a truth.
It was there now—in the tone of Zane’s voice as he said those three words.
I owed him.
She didn’t know what they meant, but Jeff did. Instead of complaining or continuing the questioning, he simply nodded.
“Next time, run it past me, okay?”
Zane rose and nodded. “Promise.”
He walked out of the office.
Nicki watched him go. How had Zane owed the guy? Had he saved his life or something? She knew there was no point in asking. Zane was a master at avoiding topics he didn’t want to talk about.
Jeff turned his attention back to her. “You could at least pretend to be worried that I’m going to fire you.”
“You can’t. Not over this. I work for Zane and he needed my help. My job is to provide backup, not to pass judgment on what he’s doing.”
Jeff sighed. “You’re too smart for your own good.”
“You like that I’m smart.”
“Yeah, well, you’re okay. When you’re not being a pain.”
She grinned. “Is Zane in trouble? Are you going to punish him? Can I watch?”
One corner of Jeff’s mouth twitched. “You two deserve each other. I have a meeting with a client. Someone who’s going to pay us for protecting him and his family.”
“Good luck.”
“Thanks.”
She turned back to her computer. Zane walked by and stuck his head in her office. “How about lunch? Mexican. You can buy.”
“I want Chinese and this one is on you, bucko.”
He shook his head. “All right. But only because you’re crabby. Brad must not be putting out this week.”
“His name is Boyd,” she yelled after him.
“Whatever,” he called as he headed down the hall.
She considered chasing after him, but then what? It wasn’t polite to run down her boss.
Nicki turned in her wheelchair and rolled over to the file cabinet under the window. As she flipped through the folders, she told herself that she simply had to get over her crush and pronto. Boyd was a perfectly nice guy, and if not for her weakness for Zane, she might have fallen in love with him. That was what she wanted—to have one great man in her life, to settle down, get married, do the kid thing.
But until she found a way to get over Zane, she was stuck in limbo—wanting what she couldn’t have and having what she didn’t want.
“The Seahawks by three,” Zane said over a plate of Kung Pao Beef and rice.
Nicki grinned. “You lead with your chin. You should know better. I’ll take those three points, and listen to you whine come Monday morning.”
She noted the information on a sheet of paper that listed all the pro football games for the weekend.
Zane knew taking the Seahawks wasn’t smart, but he couldn’t help rooting for the home team. Nicki had no such loyalty. She studied stats, read the sports section and made her choices based on abilities, injuries and who was on a winning streak. Every now and then she took a team because she liked their uniforms, but not often. What killed him was even when she made her choices on something as stupid as team colors, she often won. They were only two weeks into the regulation season and she was already up by three games.
They didn’t bet money. Instead they keep a running total and whoever had the most wins at the end of the season owed the loser a day of slave labor. The previous season he’d had big plans to make her cook, stocking his freezer with homemade dinners. Instead he’d spent nearly eight hours washing and waxing her van. Afterwards, he’d been sore for three days.
“I’m going to have you paint my living room,” she said dreamily as she wrote down the rest of their picks. “I’m thinking of a color-wash treatment that’s going to take at least three coats of paint.”
He shook his head. “Not this time, sweet pea. You’re going to be cooking your heart out.”
“That’s what you said last year. Do we remember what happened instead?”
“I’d rather not.”
She grinned. “You’ve got to start listening to the experts, Zane. They usually know who’s going to win the games.”
“That’s cheating.”
“No, that’s beating your fanny.”
She grinned as she spoke. Laughter danced in her green eyes. He smiled back.
“You’re smart for a girl.”
She picked up her fork and leaned forward. “You left out pretty. Earlier you said I was pretty enough to get some macho, brainless guy with huge muscles.”
He studied her heart-shaped face. With big eyes and a full, sensual mouth, she was more than pretty. Long auburn curls cascaded down her back. Every swaying movement begged a man to run his fingers through them. Put all that on a body that, while not as lush as the women he dated, had all the right curves in exactly the right places and she was a serious contender.
“You’re okay,” he said.
She laughed. “Wait. I want to pause and savor this moment for as long as possible. The wildly extravagant compliment has gone to my head.”
He pointed his fork at her. “Come on, Nicki. You know you’re attractive. Half the guys in this place can’t take their eyes off you.”
“Only half?” She glanced around. “I suppose that’s something.”
He followed her gaze and saw a
couple of businessmen in tailored suits giving her the once-over. There were three college guys in the corner. They practically had their mouths hanging open.
“I rest my case,” he said.
“Their attention will last for a long as it takes us to finish our meal and head for the door.”
He frowned. “Because of the chair?”
She shrugged. “Well, duh. What do you think?”
“That you’re crazy. They’re not going to care.”
Nicki being in a wheelchair meant that she was faster than him and more likely to run him over if she was annoyed. But it didn’t make her any less attractive.
“It doesn’t bother Brad,” he said.
“Boyd. And you’re right. It doesn’t. But he’s into substance.”
“I’m not and it doesn’t bother me.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s because we’re friends. You wouldn’t date a woman in a wheelchair.”
He considered the statement. “I would if she had really big breasts.”
Nicki shook her head. “I don’t know if I should thank you or stab you with my knife.”
“Technically you work for me. If you tried to stab me it would reflect poorly on your next evaluation.”
“You drive me crazy.”
He grinned. “I know. Isn’t it great?”
When they’d finished lunch and she’d badgered him into paying, he stood and she pushed back from the table. Zane paused to watch the men in the restaurant.
None of them had noticed the sleek wheelchair. Nicki had hers specially made by a guy in California. It was lightweight, made to fit her slender body and more low-profile than most.
The college guys exchanged a look of surprise, shrugged and continued to stare. One of the businessmen turned away, but the other looked as if his eyes were about to fall out. Just as he’d thought. Most of them didn’t care.
He followed her into the parking lot. She hit the remote on her key chain, which activated the special motor installed in back. The rear doors of the van opened and a ramp lowered. Nicki rolled onto it and rose to level with the back of the vehicle. While he slid into the passenger side, she secured the back doors and moved in behind the steering wheel. Special grooves locked her chair into place and a custom-built harness acted as a seat belt. She started the engine.
“They were still looking,” he said conversationally.
“I’m not,” she told him.
“Brad isn’t all that.”
She sighed. “Boyd, Zane. His name is Boyd. You’ll be meeting him in a couple of nights at the Morgans’ party. Please try to remember his name by then.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Who are you bringing? Miss Apple Festival?”
He shrugged. Currently he was between women. Oddly enough, he was in no hurry to find a new one, either. He glanced at Nicki. The two of them had never been uninvolved at the same time. Not that he would ask her out if they were. Nicki was…
He glanced out the window. Nicki was special. She mattered to him and he made it a rule to never get involved with anyone fitting that description. Not again.
Chapter Two
“So the guy says, ‘It’s only a parrot.’” Rob, one of the burly bodyguards employed by the company laughed as he finished telling his joke.
Nicki rolled her eyes and smiled. Rob loved telling jokes nearly as much as he loved puns. At times conversations with him were physically painful as he went from pun to pun.
“You’re not sweating, Nicki,” Ted called. “I want to see you sweat.”
“Bite me,” Nicki yelled back as she picked up the pace on the recumbent bike. Her thigh muscles ached, but in a good way. As for sweat, there was a river of it pouring down her back.
She hated aerobics. Oh sure, they were good for her heart and probably added years to her life, but she loathed them with a cheerful intensity that never faded. Unlike Zane, who thought all forms of physical activity were pure play.
Speaking of which, he chose that moment to stroll into the company gym. The bodyguards called out a greeting. Nicki ignored him because looking at him would spike her blood pressure and set off alarms.
But as he approached, she couldn’t resist a quick peek at his long bare legs, the loose gym shorts and cutoff T-shirt that exposed way too much flat, sculpted tummy. The man had a serious body.
She would have accepted that with good grace if she’d been able to study it impersonally. As if he were nothing more than fine art. Very fine art. But what she resented most was her visceral reaction to that A+ set of abs. She wanted. Yup, physical cravings set in that made the PMS need for chocolate seem wimpy by comparison.
“Hey,” he said as he slumped down into her wheelchair. “You’re not sweating.”
“That’s what I said,” Ted told him as he straightened and grabbed a towel. “The girl’s loafing.”
“The woman is busting her butt,” Nicki complained.
Zane ignored her. “I called you last night and you were out. How’s Brad?”
His hips were narrow enough to allow him to easily fit on her custom seat, but his legs were miles too long. He stretched them out in front of him and rested his heels on the hardwood floor.
“Boyd is doing great,” she said. “Thanks for asking. But I didn’t see him last night.”
“So where were you?”
“So why do you get to know?”
He grinned. “Because I’m fifteen kinds of charming and you adore me.”
He had that one nailed.
“I was at the bookstore.”
“Why not with your computer geek?”
“He’s in the middle of a big project right now.”
Zane looked anything but convinced. “Sure he is. You’re bored. Admit. You think he’s tedious.”
“I think you’re overcompensating because of personal inadequacy.”
Rob and Ted finished their workouts and left. Zane glanced at the timer on her bike’s program. “Your mom sent me cookies.”
“She mentioned she was going to.”
Nicki found a certain amount of irony in the fact that her parents were nearly as taken with Zane as she was. Maybe it was something genetic. A weakness in the Beauman family tree.
“So when are they coming up for a visit?” he asked.
“Probably not until the holidays. They’re taking off for a cruise in Australia and New Zealand at the end of the month. It’s fall here, but spring down under.”
“You need to have me over for dinner while they’re here. I like your folks.”
“Me, too.”
He grinned.
What the man could do to her with just a smile.
“Is their remodeling finished?” he asked.
“Just about. Mom promised the guest room would be done in time for my next visit.”
Nicki had been a change-of-life baby and a surprise for a couple who had given up hope of ever having a child. As such, she’d been doted on from birth. Despite their devotion, they’d been ready to retire as she finished college. They’d left Seattle for the sunny warmth of Tucson, which gave her a good excuse to flee the incessant rain every winter.
“Maybe I’ll swing down and visit them sometime,” he said.
“They’d like that.”
Her mother especially. While Muriel Beauman would have adored Zane for his own sake, she had a special place in her heart for him because of how he treated her daughter. When her parents had met Zane, her mother had made it a point to tell Nicki that he didn’t seem to notice she was in a wheelchair.
Nicki knew that was true. Zane’s acceptance was complete. Sometimes she consoled herself that his lack of interest in her had nothing to do with her problems with her legs. Nope, it was her pesky brain getting in the way.
The timer on her bike beeped. Nicki slowed, then stopped and wiped the sweat from her face. Her muscles were comfortably tired, but her workout was just beginning.
Still in the wheelchair, Zane moved next to th
e bike. “Climb on,” he said as he wrapped one arm around her waist.
She relaxed as he pulled her onto his lap and “drove” her to the weight machines clustered at the far end of the room. This was a familiar part of their routine—one she tried not to get excited about. Yeah, he had his arm around her. Yeah, it felt good. So what?
She slid from Zane’s lap to the bench. He locked the wheelchair in place and rose.
While she hooked up the elaborate pulley system that allowed her to strengthen her leg muscles without putting too much weight on them, he moved to the treadmill where he punched in his favorite program. The machine started at a warm-up pace that would send most people into cardiac arrest. Zane wouldn’t even begin breathing hard until mile three.
She might hate exercise, Nicki thought as she began the leg lifts designed by a physical therapist to keep her lower body toned and flexible, but there were compensations. One was a boss who’d had no problem adding a couple of pieces of equipment to the company gym so she could work out there as well. The other was watching Zane move.
Mirrors covered all four walls so wherever she turned, she saw front and back views of the man. The machine picked up the pace and he eased from a jog into a full-out run. Long, lean muscles bunched and released with nearly balletlike grace. Nicki mentally smacked herself upside the head and returned her attention to her own workout.
“Jeff and I are having a planning meeting later today,” Zane called to her. “Any preferences?”
Employees were often allowed to request assignments so those with families could stay close to home and those without could indulge their wanderlust.
“I’d like to winter in Hawaii,” Nicki told him.
He grinned. “I don’t think we have any clients there.”
“Then we should get some. Maybe a pro football player or a surfing champion.”
“Maybe a suntan lotion model.”
Nicki sniffed. “Not at all my style.”
She released the pulleys and turned so her legs hung off the bench. When she was in position, she began to work her upper body.
A Little Bit Pregnant Page 2
