He grinned at her. “You think so? I’ll keep my eyes open for one.”
She had to go. Anger and exhaustion were making her reckless, and Jen was watching her and Nick with fascinated interest. A few more back and forths, and Jen would know something was going on with them.
Sierra stood and smiled at everyone at the table. “Good night, all. I have an appointment bright and early tomorrow.”
“We’re not slave drivers,” Walker said. “You don’t have to work on Saturday.”
This wasn’t work related—she was having her first ultrasound. “Just a few things I need to take care of,” she said lightly. “It won’t take long.”
She slung her purse over her shoulder and wove through the tables. The band launched into their next song, “Natural Woman,” and she was almost to the door when the drummer began to sing.
Delaney had an amazing voice. Sierra moved to the side of the bar to listen for a few moments, and Nick came up beside her.
Damn it. He’d think she had waited for him.
But he was staring at the musicians. “No wonder everyone told me to come and listen to the band tonight,” he said. He glanced at her. “Sure you don’t want to stay and listen for a while?”
“I can’t,” she said. “But you enjoy them.” Leaving him behind, she pushed through the door and into the dusk. Purple shadows painted the downtown, and the streetlights had turned on. The wind carried the fresh scent of the lake again, and she heard the distant thunder of waves against rocks. She loved having the lake close by, and it hadn’t taken long for her to get used to the sound. The repetitive roll and crash rocked her to sleep, reassured her when she woke in the middle of the night.
She hadn’t expected to become so familiar with it so quickly. She’d thought the lack of street noise would bother her. In Chicago, it was traffic sounds that drifted in her window, even in the high-rise condo. Horns beeping, engines gunning, police and fire sirens, the rumble of passing buses all blended together in a reassuring mosaic. Familiar. Comforting. The sounds of home.
This was her home now, at least for the next several months.
Pulling on her sweater, she started down the street.
The door of the pub opened behind her, and the tingle at the back of her neck told her who it was. She walked a little faster, but he caught up easily. “Do you need a ride home?” Nick asked.
“No, thank you. I prefer to walk.” As she turned the corner, a cold spring wind off the lake pushed at her back, whipping her hair into her face and slicing through the thin material of her sweater. She hunched her shoulders and pulled it more tightly around her.
Nick settled his leather jacket around her shoulders, and his scent drifted up from it. She tried to shrug it off, but he put his hand on her back. “Leave it. You’re cold.”
She glanced at his short-sleeved cotton shirt. “You will be, too.”
“I’m fine.”
Finally she met his gaze, her hands going to her hips in anger. “What are you trying to do, Nick?”
“What do you mean?”
“All this friendliness, joining our table, talking shop with Mark and Walker. Offering your help. Are you trying to undermine me? Are you hoping Walker gives the project back to you?” After their earlier conversation, the thought had simmered in her head all evening.
He stopped walking and stared at her. “Do you really think I’d do that? Even though you took the job away from me, I wouldn’t take it back if he offered. Not now.”
“I don’t know what you’d do.” Without thinking, she drew the jacket closer and huddled into its comfort. “But I know you’re planning something. I know how you think. You’re always four steps ahead of everyone else.” She glanced at him again. “That’s why you’re so successful.”
“I’m hearing a ‘but’,” he said.
“But this time, it’s pissing me off. You’re trying to sneak into my life sideways.”
“Yes, I am, because you’ve given me no choice. That’s my baby.” He pointed at her abdomen. “I’m going to be part of this.”
“I told you we’re not your responsibility or obligation.”
“You said you’d think about it,” he corrected. “I’m making my case that I’ll do whatever it takes.”
She turned the final corner. Her apartment was halfway down the street, and she walked a little faster. She didn’t want to fight with him tonight. Exhaustion was sucking all the energy from her body and making her legs feel like stone. If she continued this conversation, she would say or do something she’d regret later. Weariness had weakened her normal barriers.
He fell into step beside her, but she ignored him. She was surprised when he didn’t say anything, either. When she glanced at him, his cheeks and ears were red and his shoulders tensed against the wind.
She slipped into the tiny vestibule next door to The Summer House, Jen’s restaurant. Nick shouldered his way in behind her as she fumbled in her purse for the key to the glass door at the bottom of the stairs. When she got it open, she turned to face him.
“This is where I live. Good night, Nick.”
“May I come in with you for a few minutes?” He took the door and held it open for her. “I think we need to continue this conversation.”
“Not tonight,” she said. “I’m too tired to deal with you.” She didn’t want him in her space, looking at her things, filling the small living room with his presence.
He gazed at her steadily, and she had no trouble reading his expression. If she didn’t let him in, he wouldn’t turn around and leave. He’d wait outside her door. Making it impossible to sleep, knowing he was there.
Why did she still care about him when he was behaving so badly? She was too tired to think about that.
“Fine. Come on up.”
She trudged up the stairs, each step a huge effort. Thank goodness she didn’t have to work tomorrow. She could sleep in. She had nowhere to be until her ultrasound appointment at 11:00 a.m.
Nick followed, staying close behind as if he was afraid she’d change her mind before he got into her apartment. When she unlocked the door at the top of the stairs, warm air scented with vanilla and butter drifted out.
“Smells good,” he said, as she stepped aside and he walked in. “Were you baking?”
“It’s from the restaurant downstairs.”
“I noticed that place earlier. Is it any good?”
“It’s Jen’s restaurant. And it’s wonderful.” Sierra handed him his jacket, already missing its warmth. She turned up the heat, then waved him into the room. “Have a seat.”
He wandered over to the built-in bookshelves and studied her collection of photographs—pictures of her with her mother and father, her friends from college, Callie and the rest of the people she hung out with in Chicago. Sierra shut the blinds on the windows that overlooked the street. She turned on the lamps sitting on the old mahogany end tables, then flicked on the light attached to the ceiling fan. She wanted the room bright and businesslike.
She sank into the red chair and watched him catalog her apartment. As he wandered, she used her foot to smooth out the rag rug covering the scuffed hardwood floors.
Finally he turned. “Nice place,” he said.
“It’s comfortable.” She had never seen where he lived, but she was sure it made this tiny apartment look completely shabby. She gestured toward the couch. “Don’t bother to try and intimidate me by standing there and staring down at me. I’m too tired to play those games. Sit down.”
“Intimidate you?” He sank onto the couch, resting against her mother’s multicolored afghan, folded over the back. “I’m not sure that’s possible,” he said. “I’ve seen you deal with everyone from admins to colleagues to hard-ass construction workers. None of them has ever rattled you.”
“Trying to sweet-talk me now, Boone?”
A tiny smile appeared, quickly controlled. “Would it work?”
“Of course not.” But she held his gaze a moment too long
. When she felt herself weakening, she pulled her feet onto the cushion and wrapped her arms around her legs. “I’m beat. What was so important to talk about tonight?”
He shifted forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “I need to know what I can do to convince you to listen to me. To let me do what’s right. How can I prove that I’m sincere? That I want to do this?”
She rose from the chair and went over to the bookcase to straighten a picture of herself with her parents. Her fingers lingered for a moment, then she turned back to Nick. “I know you’re sincere. I know you want to do this. You take your obligations very seriously.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
She drew a deep breath and turned to face him. “You are, Nick. You’re not the kind of man I want as my child’s father.”
“Too late to worry about that. I already am.”
“Only biologically. Tell me, do you want to be involved in the baby’s life? Share custody with me? Help raise him or her? Does your sense of responsibility extend past the day I give birth?”
He stood and moved closer. “I haven’t thought that far ahead,” he admitted.
“Pregnancy is temporary. Parenthood is forever. Are you prepared to be a parent?”
He stopped and shoved his hands into his pockets. “No,” he finally said. “I’m not good father material.”
His shoulders were tense, his jaw clenched. “Why is that, Nick?”
He walked over to the window and lifted a slat of the blinds to stare into the night. “Too many reasons to list. But I can do other things. I have plenty of money. I can make sure you have whatever you need.”
“If I accept your money, I’d want you to be involved in the baby’s life. You paid me a good salary when I worked for you, and I have a savings account.” Things would be tight for a while. But she would manage. “But since you can’t give me what I want, there’s no point in talking about what you can give.”
“What do you want, Sierra?” He turned to face her, but didn’t move closer.
“I want my child to have the same thing I had when I was growing up—parents who love her.”
“Her? You hope it’s a girl?”
“Who make sure she knows they do,” she continued, ignoring him. “Who think she hangs the moon and the stars. I won’t let anyone, even my baby’s father, make my child think she’s a burden. An obligation. Nothing but a responsibility.”
“I don’t have to be involved in the kid’s life to help you,” he said. He sounded confused. He didn’t understand.
“Let me spell it out, Nick.” Sierra stepped closer to him and immediately regretted it. But she wasn’t going to back away. “Babies become toddlers, then go to school, and it happens fast. My baby will make friends and meet her friends’ fathers. She’ll ask me why she doesn’t have a dad. What am I supposed to tell her? He sends money, but he doesn’t want anything to do with you?”
Nick flinched, but she continued speaking. “That’s why it’s best if you just leave now and forget about me and the baby. If you want to feel as if you’ve fulfilled your obligations, have your attorney set up a trust fund for college.”
Don’t get my hopes up that you could ever give more.
“Good night, Nick.” She opened the door.
There was regret in his expression. Sadness? But he didn’t deny what she’d said. Reality replaced hope in the bright, quiet room. Eventually, he walked out the door, and she shut it behind him.
CHAPTER TEN
NICK REACHED FOR THE doorknob, hoping she would change her mind, but she’d already locked it. The light beneath the door went dark. Her footsteps headed to the back of the apartment.
Dismissing him.
She told him if he wanted her to accept his money, she expected him to be a part of the baby’s life. When he couldn’t agree, she’d walked away.
The narrow hallway smelled faintly of cleaning solution, sharp and acrid. They must be closing the restaurant downstairs. The hall was lit by a single lightbulb, which threw a distorted shadow of him against the wall. He sank onto the top step, hoping Sierra would return, open the door and tell him she would accept his money without expecting him to be a part of this baby’s life. But there were no sounds of movement from the other side of the door. No lights turning back on.
He sat in the silence, fighting panic as he thought about the rounded curve beneath Sierra’s shirt and what it meant. It wasn’t just a pregnancy. That was a child. His child. If Sierra had her way, he would be tethered to it forever.
A child he might get attached to.
He stood abruptly and hurried down the stairs and out into the cool night air. The wind from the lake was strong, and scattered raindrops pelted the pavement. The swirls and gusts carried away Sierra’s perfume, which had been clinging to his jacket. But no amount of wind and rain could wash away who he was.
He could try to be the man she wanted him to be. But she would see the truth eventually. That there was something missing inside him.
Sooner or later, she’d see that money was the only thing he could give her.
THE NEXT MORNING, AS he waited on the bench down the street from Sierra’s apartment, Nick finished his coffee, while the second cup he’d bought for Sierra cooled. He crushed his cup and tossed it into the trash can.
Her coffee was completely cold by the time she emerged from her building. She was wearing a heavy sweater and another shirt that clung to the curve of her belly. He focused on her face instead of that lump as she came out the door.
She slowed when she saw him. “Nick. What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you. I wanted to continue our conversation.” He extended the cup of coffee. “It’s cold, but I know you need coffee in the morning.”
“Thank you, but I’m pretty full right now. Caffeine is off-limits, anyway.”
He dumped it in the trash. “Then we’ll just talk.”
“Not now,” she said as she began walking along the sidewalk. “I have an appointment.”
“Forget the damn appointment. Barnes was right. This is Saturday. Take the day off.”
“You know it’s not like that in our business,” she said, studying the smooth, even sidewalk as if she were picking her way across a minefield. “You meet people when they have free time.”
“So who are you meeting today?”
She didn’t answer until they’d reached the mouth of the alley. “It’s not a business appointment,” she finally said. “It’s personal.”
Was it Cameron? Nick clenched his jaw. Who else did she know in this town besides the Barneses? “Personal can wait.”
“Not this time.” She finally looked at him. “I’m having an ultrasound, Nick. I’m nineteen weeks pregnant, and the doctor told me to have this done.”
“Why?” He grabbed her arm. “Is something wrong?”
“It’s routine.” She extracted herself from his grip. “Almost every pregnant woman has one at this point.” If he was going to try and make this right, it had to start now. “Okay. I’ll come with you.”
She went still. “Why?”
“You want me to get involved, I’m going to get involved. I’ll drive you to the appointment.”
“Really?” She watched him steadily. “Are you going to watch the ultrasound, too? That’s what expectant fathers do.”
His stomach twisted, but he gave a sharp jerk of his head. “If you want me there.”
She glanced down the alley, as if trying to decide whether to run or stay. Then she squared her shoulders. “You’re right. This is what I said I wanted. So you can come with me.”
He put his hand on her back and steered her toward his car, parked on the street. “Where are we going?”
“Sturgeon Falls.” She pulled two sheets of paper out of her purse. “I have the directions.”
“Good. You navigate. I’ll drive.” He glanced at her, reassured when he saw that she was just as uncertain about this as he was. “We’ve always made a good team.”
FORTY-FIVE MINUTES LATER, he’d changed his mind. They might be a good team at the office. In their personal lives, it was another story.
Two other couples sat in the waiting room of the medical building. Both the women were huge. Sierra was going to look like that eventually, too.
Both men nodded at him. Acknowledging their shared condition. Nick swallowed once, then eased into the uncomfortable chair next to Sierra.
Before he’d had a chance to wrap his mind around what he was going to do, the nurse showed them into a room. Sierra went first. When she got to the door, she looked over her shoulder, waiting for him. Decision time.
He followed her in.
The woman handed Sierra a sheet and said, “Everything off below the waist. You can leave your socks on, though. It’s cold in here.”
The nurse closed the door, and even in the dimly lit room, he saw color rise in Sierra’s face. “Go ahead,” he said gruffly as he turned his back. “Unless you want me to leave.”
“No, I’m fine.” He heard one shoe drop to the floor, then the other. The rustle of denim being pulled down. A soft whisper of fabric following it.
What kind of underwear did a woman use when she was pregnant?
He had no idea what Sierra normally wore, other than the skimpy purple thing she’d had on that night. The one he’d almost had to remove for her.
When he felt his body stir, he closed his eyes. He was a bastard. She was thinking about her baby, and all he wanted to do was watch her undress.
Something crinkled and slid, and Sierra said, “I’m good. You can turn around.”
She lay on the table, a paper sheet pulled above her waist, her shirt carefully draped over it and her sock-covered feet showing at the end. She worried her lower lip as she looked at the complicated machine next to the table, and he realized she was anxious.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine.” She glanced at the machine again. “A little nervous, I guess. What if something’s wrong?”
Without thinking, he took her hand. Instead of pushing him away, she gripped hard and clung. Her fingers were ice-cold.
For Baby and Me Page 9
