Strong muscles were essential for a number of reasons. Not only did they help her maneuver and stay fast in her chair, but well-toned arms burned more calories. She might be able to keep in shape with her workouts, but she didn’t have the ability to walk from place to place during the day. If she wasn’t careful to balance her exercise with her lifestyle, she could pile on five pounds in the time it took most people to sneeze. On her smallish frame, that was hardly attractive. So she did the exercise thing and told herself it was like taking a really sweaty vitamin.
Zane finished his five-mile run and stepped off the treadmill. As she shifted from the bench to her wheelchair, he nodded to the free weights and barbells.
“Want me to spot you on the chest press?” he asked.
Nicki eyed the equipment in question. Did she want to lay on a bench, Zane poised at her head, ready to rescue her if she got into trouble as she raised and lowered a too-heavy weight? The view was spectacular—she could see all of him from knee to chin—but it came at a price. Namely unfulfilled fantasies.
“I’ll pass,” she said as she headed for the women’s locker room and the showers. “But thanks.”
“No problem.”
He turned to the equipment and began his own weight training. Nicki didn’t want to stick around. She’d seen the show countless times. If only she could be like Zane, she thought as she rolled to her locker. If only she could be happy with them just being friends and never consider any other possibilities. If only he didn’t bother her so much.
She needed a plan. Or a program. Or an anti-Zane patch. Barring that, she had to find a way to clear her head. Boyd might not be the love of her life, but what if the next guy was? Would she miss her opportunity because she was hung up on Zane? Wouldn’t that be a tragedy?
She was going to have to find a way to lick this problem once and for all, even if it meant something as drastic as finding a new job.
“This client is interesting,” Jeff said as he tossed Zane a folder.
Zane picked it up and flipped through the pages. “An Italian banker?” He grinned. “Okay. I’ll take that one.”
Jeff didn’t look surprised. “You think you’re going to get a trip to Italy out of this.”
“Sure.”
Jeff shook his head and passed over two more folders. “Middle Eastern oil executives.”
“A whole lot less fun,” Zane muttered as he looked through their files. “Definitely more work.”
Although he wouldn’t mind a good distraction—maybe a kidnapping or hostage situation. He felt restless and on edge and he couldn’t say why.
“Westron has had a couple of nasty letters delivered to his house,” Jeff said. “He annoyed the wrong group of people.”
“Death threats?” Zane asked.
“Daily. He’s working with local police, but he wants us to come up with a plan to protect the family he has here in the States.”
Zane made a few notes in the margin. When the company first started, he and Jeff had shared the work equally. In the past couple of years Jeff had taken over more administrative and sales duties, leaving much of the field work to Zane. The switch had come about because of Jeff’s marriage to a single mom and the subsequent birth of his son. Little Michael was nearly eighteen months old.
“How’s Ashley?” he asked.
Jeff’s expression softened as he smiled. “Great. She’s still getting morning sickness, but if this pregnancy is like the last one, it should pass in a few more weeks.”
He continued talking, but Zane found himself unable to listen. Instead he fought against ghosts from the past, and the pain they brought with him.
He was happy for his friend, he told himself. As for his own life, it had turned out the way it had and there was not a damn thing he could do about it. Once he’d thought he could have a normal life, then he’d found out he was wrong. End of story.
He returned his attention to his partner’s conversation and made notes on the various files. When they were finished, he headed for Nicki’s office and found her on the phone.
He leaned against the door frame and waited as she chewed out whoever had annoyed her. Watching Nicki mad was a kick.
“You can’t be serious,” she said, using both hands to gesture, even though the person on the other end of her headset couldn’t see. “If I’d wanted a cheap piece of crap, that’s what I would have ordered. Instead I ordered an expensive transmitter that was supposed to have a two-mile radius. The one I received has a radius of about three hundred yards. Now I’m not a math person, but even I can figure out that’s not close to one mile let alone two. So what are you going to do about this?”
She listened, sighed impatiently, then rolled her eyes. Her frustration made him grin. Nicki had a lot of great qualities but suffering fools gladly wasn’t one of them.
He watched the fire flashing in her eyes and the way her mouth moved as she spoke. As always, he acknowledged her beauty with the same emotional attachment he had to the weather. It was a part of his world. He lived with it, prepared for it when he remembered and had absolutely no control over it. So mostly he ignored it.
“You’d better credit me the shipping cost,” she muttered. “Yeah, I know. This is your last chance. One more screwup like this and I’m taking my size-able budget elsewhere. Uh-huh.” She listened for another couple of seconds, then said goodbye and hung up.
She glanced at Zane. “He actually had the nerve to tell me to have a nice day. My day was doing great right up until I found out about the messed-up order. People can be so annoying.”
“Maybe it’s not people. Maybe it’s you.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Easy for you to say. You delegate all the annoying stuff to me.”
“One of the perks of the job.” He waved a folder. “I have some exciting news.”
She didn’t look convinced. “Sure you do.”
“Nicki. I’m not kidding. But I’m not going to tell you until I see the proper level of enthusiasm.”
She drew in a breath and clutched both hands to her chest. “Oh, Zane. Exciting news? I just can’t wait.” Her voice was a falsely high pitch that could have called dogs from three states away. “Wait. I’m all flustered. Let me sit down and recover for a second.”
She fluttered her fingers and quivered in her chair.
He chuckled, then sank into the seat by her desk. “It’s not the world that’s annoying,” he told her. “It’s you.”
“Sell it somewhere else. What have you got?”
He handed her the top folder. “New client. An Italian banker. I’m going to be talking to him about setting up a better security plan for his family.”
Nicki’s green eyes widened. “Will you be visiting him yourself?”
“I just may. And if I do, I’ll need an assistant.”
She flipped through the pages and smiled. “I love Italy. It’s so beautiful and do they know how to make wine or what? I haven’t been in years.”
“Did you go with your folks?”
“When I was in high school. Then I went with a bunch of friends while I was in college.”
“With a guy?”
She raised her eyebrows. “There might have been a man or two in the group. I simply can’t remember.”
“Liar.”
“Are you inquiring about my sex life?”
“Absolutely.”
She pretended to be shocked. “A lady never kisses and tells.”
“I’m not interested in the kissing. Do it anywhere interesting?”
“I’m not into public displays of affection, thank you very much.” She closed the folder. “My big complaint is that despite promises to the contrary, not one man in Italy pinched my butt.”
He shook his head. “Did you ever think it might have something to do with you being in a wheelchair? It’s not exactly easy to pinch when the butt in question is planted on a seat. You should have worn your braces a couple of days and given the guys a chance.”
“Good po
int. Honestly, I never thought it would be worth the effort.”
“That’s because you haven’t had your butt pinched by a professional.”
“Are you offering?”
“It’s not my fantasy, but I could ask around if you’d like.”
Nicki pushed the folder toward him. “You are too weird for words. Yes, if asked, I will accompany you to Italy. Now get out of here. Unlike the rest of you, I have actual work that needs to be done.”
The Friday morning planning meeting lasted over two hours. As per the usual schedule, the least pressing clients were discussed first, leaving the most time for those with the largest and most imminent problems.
Oil executives stationed in the Middle East should know better than to make political statements, Nicki thought as she listened to Jeff outline the situation. There had been daily threats against George Westron and his family ever since he’d told an AP reporter that most of the area’s problems could be solved if people simply practiced Christian values.
But the man being an idiot didn’t mean he should be killed by a car bomb or that his family should suffer, either.
Jeff passed Nicki copies of the threats left on the Westron’s front porch. She scanned the block letters taken from various magazines and newspapers, then glued into words and sentences.
“Obviously there is an entire international task force working on that,” he told her. “But see what you can do.”
Nicki nodded. She wasn’t an expert, but she had contacts who were. People outside of mainstream law enforcement. Sometimes she got lucky. She also noted a list of information Jeff wanted cross-referenced.
“There are two children,” Zane said, when Jeff had finished. “Twelve and ten.”
Nicki winced. She hated when kids were in danger. “Tell me they’re not still going to school.”
He nodded. “It’s private. We have two guys with them the entire day.”
She shook her head. While she understood the need to keep kids’ lives as normal as possible, the knowledge that they were out in the open, exposed put a knot in her stomach.
Zane didn’t look any happier than she felt. He shrugged. “I sent in Mathews and Gorson.”
Some of her tension eased. Those two were great with kids and seemed to have a sixth sense about danger. Zane would have chosen them for that reason. He sweated when kids were in danger, too. Jeff worried, but he had kids of his own so she expected it. The same level of concern from Zane always left her weak in the knees…figuratively and literally.
She reminded herself she should be looking for reasons not to like Zane, not more excuses to fall harder for the guy. But it was difficult to dislike him. He was too close to perfect for her comfort.
Jeff finished up his report and asked for questions. When there weren’t any, he reminded them that there was a new batch of bodyguards starting training on Monday, so they needed to stay sharp.
Nicki knew that new recruits were often ambushed while walking through the halls of the company. Once a fake terrorism team had invaded and taken hostages. She’d been caught in a standoff for nearly a half hour, which wouldn’t have been a problem if she hadn’t been on her way to the bathroom in the first place. She made a mental note to be more careful about her water consumption during the next few weeks.
Brenda, Jeff’s fifty-something assistant, rose and glared at her boss. “I can’t believe you didn’t consider my application. Again.”
Zane glanced at Nicki and grinned. “Here we go,” he murmured.
Brenda’s desire to be a real live spy was an ongoing source of humor in the office.
Jeff rose and patted her on the arm. “Brenda, I can’t risk losing you. Not only would your husband kill me, but the office would fall apart. You’re too valuable for field work.”
“That’s a crock and you know it,” she said, following him from the room. “Come on, Jeff. Just give me a chance.”
Nicki watched her go. “I’m always torn,” she admitted to Zane as the rest of the staff filed out of the conference room. “On the one hand I know Jeff is right—Brenda does keep things running smoothly. But on the other hand, she should be allowed to live up to her potential.”
“She would never pass the physical.”
“Fine. Then let her take it and fail. At least she would have had the chance.”
Zane didn’t look convinced, which made Nicki suspicious. “You and Jeff are afraid she will pass and then you’d have to let her into the program. You know she’d kick butt once she was accepted.”
“You’re a troublemaker.”
“I prefer to think of myself as a rebel. Sort of like a freedom fighter for people who are being oppressed by those in power. Those who have never—”
The phone on the table buzzed. “Nicki, you have a call on line three.”
“Thank God,” Zane muttered. “I couldn’t stand another one of those speeches on the oppressed.”
“I’m not finished with you,” she said as she picked up the receiver.”
“This is Nicki,” she said, then felt her mood deflate when she heard Boyd’s voice. He wasn’t the kind of guy who checked in during the day “just because.” Which meant there was only one reason he was calling.
“I’m really sorry I can’t make it tonight,” he told her. “But with Stan quitting, the project is at risk. I don’t want it to fall behind.”
He went on about some particularly complex problem that made no sense to her after the first three words. When he paused for breath, she spoke up.
“It’s okay, Boyd. Tonight is just a party. Don’t worry about it.”
“I’ll call you in a few days,” he said. “After the weekend.” He seemed to realize that most couples who were dating actually spent time together on weekends and quickly added, “I have to work.”
“I guessed that. It’s fine.”
More than fine, she thought sadly as she hung up. She didn’t feel regret or sadness or anything. For the past couple of weeks she’d been telling herself it was time to end things with Boyd. Whatever potential had been there had obviously been lost. This conversation told her it was past time to make a clean break.
“That’s the thing,” Zane said as he leaned toward her. “Guys like Brad just don’t appreciate women. Computer chips and binary code are more interesting. Crazy, but true.”
She closed her eyes and counted to ten. When that didn’t help, she opened her eyes and glared at him. “Boyd isn’t a programmer and he’s plenty interested in woman and—” She laughed. “Why on earth am I trying to convince you?”
“I have no idea. I don’t have a date, either. We can go together.”
Nicki told herself that the sudden flash of heat that zinged up her thighs was little more than the beginnings of some kind of rash. Or a food allergy. It wasn’t excitement about Zane’s offhand invitation. So he was between women. That happened all the time. Just as quickly, he would be involved again with a large-breasted, slow-witted beauty whose most challenging conversational gambit would be to discuss the various shades of teal that went with her eyes.
“I suppose I could hang out with you at the party,” she said with a casual deliberateness she didn’t come close to feeling. At this moment in time, her insides were practicing clog dancing.
“Hey, I’ll even pick you up,” he said.
She thought about his flashy two-seater sports car and grinned. “I think tying my wheelchair to your bumper and dragging it behind would be a really bad idea.”
“Don’t sweat the details, Nicki. I’ll take care of everything.” He rose and headed for the door. “I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear something sexy.”
“You’re not picking me up,” she called after him. “Don’t be silly. I’ll drive myself.”
He paused in the doorway and stared at her. “I never let my date drive herself.”
Her throat didn’t just get tight. No, first it twisted up like a spring. “D-date?”
“Uh-huh.”
He flash
ed her the kind of smile deigned to reduce her to a quivering mass. Damn the man—it worked.
“I’m going to show you all my best moves,” he said. “You’ll be impressed.”
Nicki watched him walk out of the room and had a really bad feeling that Zane was right. She was going to be impressed and where exactly would that leave her? The last thing she needed was to be more attracted to him.
Then she reminded herself she’d never been the sort of person to walk away from a challenge. Zane thought he could knock her socks off. Well, two could play at that game. He’d told her to wear something sexy. She could do that and then some. Maybe if she surprised him, she could get the upper hand for once. Of course what she would do with it once she had it was another question entirely.
Chapter Three
Nicki stared into the full-length mirror and wondered if she was making a mistake. Yes, she wanted to impress Zane, but maybe she was going about it all wrong. She might be attractive and all that, but there was no way on earth her size-B breasts could compete in the major leagues. Zane dated women who were so top heavy they couldn’t walk straight.
She glanced from her reflection to her chest and back. In her closet was a black dress with a neckline that sank nearly to her navel. With some double stick tape and a very straight back, she could dazzle. But in a world of watermelons, who bothered with peaches? Maybe this choice was better. Simple, elegant and classy. Wasn’t that better than trying too hard?
Nicki wished desperately for a second opinion, but her mom was in another state and Ashley, Jeff’s wife, was busy getting herself ready. Besides, there wasn’t much her friend could tell her over the phone.
“You look great,” Nicki said in an effort to make herself feel better.
She knew she didn’t look bad at all. The shimmering bronze fabric of her dress draped beautifully. The loose boat-style neckline left her arms bare—arms that were toned. Folds of fabric hinted at the curves of her breasts without actually exposing them. Her skin was pale and she’d chosen to leave it bare, even her legs. Instead of panty hose, she’d smoothed on a lotion with a hint of glimmer.
A Little Bit Pregnant Page 3
