"I don't need a doctor," she said too quickly, panic catching at her throat. Seeing his startled look, she grabbed for her thinning self-control. God knew, none of this was his fault. She caught his hand in hers and gave it an apologetic squeeze. "I'm fine. Really. Now, stop worrying about me."
She turned and pushed open her door without giving him a chance to say anything else. One more concerned word and she was going to burst into tears and sob out all her worries on his chest—not exactly the best place to go for sympathy with her particular problem.
"I can smell the barbecue from here." Brenda said as Kate got out of the car. She drew a deep breath and released it on a sigh of pleasure. "Mrs. Pickle is the best cook in town—maybe even the best cook on the planet. When I was a kid, I used to follow Brian and Nick home like a lost puppy just so I could get my hands on some of Mrs. Pickle's cookies. Too bad they went straight from hand to thigh," she added ruefully, smoothing one hand over her full hip. "It's a crime that everything that tastes good is bad for the figure."
"There's not a thing wrong with your figure," Gareth said as he joined them. He slid his arm around Brenda's waist and waggled his eyebrows in a dreadful imitation of a pirate's leer. "A tidy armful of femininity."
Brenda laughed, her cheeks warming as she slipped away from Gareth's hold. "Careful. Flattery like that might turn a girl's head."
"And such a pretty head it is, too," he said, grinning at her. For a moment, there was something almost wistful in Brenda's eyes, but it was gone so quickly that Kate thought she'd imagined it.
"Having a birthday seems to have put you in a good mood," Brenda said as the three of them stepped onto the wide front porch. "I thought, after thirty, they were supposed to depress you."
"Not when you've got life going just the way you want it," he said, glancing at Kate. As she returned his smile, she sent up a fervent wish that the ground would simply open up and swallow her whole.
But that mercy was denied her, and she followed Brenda into the cool dimness of the big house. Finding the rest of the family was simply a matter of following the smells through the house and onto the shady patio that extended from the back of the house. Though summer had definitely arrived and the temperature was hovering around ninety, the backyard was shady and cool. A waterfall splashed over lava rock in one comer of the patio, the gentle murmur of the water providing a soothing backdrop.
"We were starting to think we were going to have to eat without you," Philip said, coming forward to greet them.
"You mean you were hoping," Gareth said, returning his father's hug. ''More of Dilly's potato salad for you, right?"
"The thought never crossed my mind," Philip protested, his dark eyes twinkling with laughter.
''Don't you believe him," Sara said. "She already had to chase him out of the kitchen twice to keep him from eating everything in sight."
"I simply offered my services as a taster," Philip said with injured dignity.
"With you as a taster, we'd all end up eating at Jack-in-the-Box," Gareth said. He smile widened as he glanced past his father and saw Nick tending the brick barbecue. "Put you to work, did they?"
"It was self-defense," Nick said. "I remember Dad's barbecue skills and I wasn't in the mood for charred ribs."
"Whatever happened to parental respect?" Philip asked plaintively.
"It takes a backseat to Dilly's ribs," Nick said as he brushed barbecue sauce on a rack of sizzling meat. He glanced up to smile at Brenda. "Followed Gareth home this time, did you?"
"I was invited," she informed him with careful dignity. Then she grinned. "But if I hadn't been, I would have hidden in the trunk for a chance at those ribs. I was just telling Kate that Mrs. Pickle is one of the great heroines of my childhood."
Nick looked at Kate and the smile faded from his eyes, though not from his mouth. "Kate."
"Nick." She nodded and aimed a vague smile in his direction, then turned casually away. Just a few hours, she told herself. She only had to hold it together for a few hours. And then she could lock herself in her apartment and collapse into screaming hysterics.
"I didn't think it was possible, but these ribs taste as good as they smell,'' Brenda said, closing her eyes in ecstasy as she chewed and swallowed. "Do you think I could talk Mrs. Pickle into giving me the recipe?"
"I imagine so," Sara said. She spooned some potato salad onto her plate before handing the bowl to Kate. "Annie's usually pretty generous with her recipes."
Kate tried not to inhale as she passed the potato salad on to Gareth. The rich scents of barbecue sauce and grilled vegetables already had her stomach sending up warning signals. She swallowed hard and reached for her glass. A few sips of sweet-tart 7-Up eased her discomfort enough that she risked taking a roll when the basket was passed to her.
She listened with half an ear to the comments on the food, the weather and the progress being made on the women's shelter that was Sara's pet project. It was exactly the way she'd always imagined a family get-together—the warmth and affection flowed as easily as the conversation. She'd dreamed of being a part of a family like this, and for a little while, she had been. It was ironic that, by her own actions, she'd put herself outside the circle she'd so desperately wanted to join.
She stole a glance at Nick, who was sitting on the opposite side of the table and down from her. He'd apparently finished eating because his plate was pushed a little back from the edge of the table. He had a half-empty bottle of beer in front of him and was turning it between his fingers, his attention apparently focused on the idle motion. He'd contributed little to the conversation, letting it ebb and flow around him for the most part. It occurred to her that he looked as much apart from the gathering as she felt.
As if sensing her gaze, he looked up suddenly, his eyes locking on hers. His expression was closed, unreadable. Kate thought suddenly of the way his eyes so often smiled even before his mouth moved. The memory of it made her feel very alone, and she looked away. She crumbled a piece of roll between her fingers and wondered what he might have read in her expression.
"You're not eating anything." Gareth's low comment dragged Kate's thoughts from Nick. "Are you okay?"
"I'm just not very hungry." He looked doubtful.
"My stomach's a little upset," she admitted reluctantly.
"This flu has been hanging around too long." He frowned, his eyes worried. "You really need to see a doctor."
"Did I hear someone take the name of my profession in vain?" Sara asked from across the table.
"No."
"Yes." Kate's denial was drowned out by Gareth's response, and Sara's brows went up.
"I'm fine," Kate said firmly. She gave him a warning glance, which he ignored.
"You're not fine." Exasperated, Gareth looked at his mother. "She's been battling some kind of flu bug for weeks now."
"It hasn't been that long." Kate set the half-eaten roll down and pushed her plate away.
"It's been at least a month," Gareth said stubbornly. "And your stomach is^ still bothering you."
"I'm fine," she said again. Though she didn't look at him, she was aware of Nick's sudden attention, and she put her hands in her lap to conceal their trembling.
"It does seem like this has been hanging around a long time," Brenda said, leaning around Gareth and giving her a concerned look. "You even went home early a couple of days ago. Maybe Gareth's right. Maybe you should see a doctor."
"I do not need to see a doctor." Kate strained for patience. "Now, could we please stop discussing my health?"
"Kate's right." Sara said briskly. "She's smart enough to know whether or not she needs a doctor."
"Thank you." Kate said gratefully.
"Don't thank me yet." Sara warned her with a smile. "Because I'm going to agree with my son to the extent that, if the symptoms hang around much longer, you really should let someone take a look at you."
"I will." Kate lied.
"It's already been hanging around too long," Gareth mut
tered stubbornly, but to Kate's relief, he let the subject drop.
After a moment, the conversation picked up again. Kate was grateful that she was no longer the center of attention, but her stomach continued to chum with nerves. She was vividly aware of Nick sitting silently across from her. As if compelled by a force outside herself, she looked up. Her heart jolted when she saw him watching her. Their eyes met and held. The indifference was gone, replaced by speculation and sharp question.
Frightened, she jerked her eyes away and stared at her plate, wondering if he'd been able to read the truth in her eyes.
❧
Nick listened with half an ear to a discussion of the political scandal currently rocking the White House. Leaning back in a redwood deck chair, a half-empty beer bottle cradled against his stomach, he let the conversation drift over and around him. At the moment, his interest was in something considerably xiearer to hand than Washington.
From beneath half-closed eyelids, he saw Kate steal a discreet look at her watch for the second time in less than ten minutes. She'd barely said a word since lunch, he thought. And she'd managed to avoid looking at him entirely, not an easy feat in such a small gathering.
He lifted the beer bottle and took a deep swallow as he considered the suspicion that had taken root in his mind. It seemed impossible, and yet... There had been that moment when she'd looked at him and he'd read—or thought he'd read—something in her eyes. Something frightened and maybe—just maybe—a little pleading?
Kate stood, returning Gareth's questioning look with a light smile before moving toward the house. Gareth turned his head to watch her for a moment and then returned his attention to the conversation. Nick took another swallow of beer and watched the door close behind Kate.
This was neither the time nor the place, he reminded himself, even as he got up. "Anybody else need a refill?'' he asked. No one else did.
Not here and now, he thought as he walked across the deck and pushed open the door. It could wait. He could wait.
❧
Kate was standing at the kitchen sink, holding a damp paper towel to her forehead, the social mask momentarily stripped away. She looked small and fragile, and he was suddenly sure he knew the answer to the question he'd yet to ask. Emotion caught him by the throat—anger and elation, hunger and fear.
Deliberately, he let the door thud shut behind him. She started and turned, the little color that was in her face draining away when she saw him. For an instant, she looked so vulnerable that Nick wanted to pull her into his arms and comfort her. At the same time, he had the urge to grab her and shake her until her teeth rattled. If she really was....
"Feeling warm?" he asked as he moved into the room.
"I—it's hot today." She watched him the way a rabbit would watch a snake, with fear and just a touch of hope that maybe she could escape with her skin intact.
Not this time, Kate. I'm not backing away this time. She flinched at the sharp click of glass against tile as he set the bottle on the counter. He pushed his hands in his pockets, a hedge against the urge to reach for her.
"Something you want to tell me?" he asked.
The tone was almost casual but there was nothing casual about the look in his eyes, Kate thought. She swallowed and looked away.
"I don't know what you mean." Her response wasn't as firm as she would have liked, but it was hard to sound firm when her knees felt as steady as overcooked noodles. She leaned one hand on the counter for support, making an effort to seem natural—an unsuccessful effort, apparently.
"You're trembling," he said. "If you don't know what I'm talking about, why are you trembling?"
"I don't particularly like being here with you," she said, lifting her chin in a futile gesture of bravado.
"Not good enough, Kate." He took a step toward her. "Nausea, tiredness—interesting symptoms."
"Not really. Pretty common for someone with the flu." She edged back a half step.
"Lasting for weeks?" Nick arched one dark brow in question and moved closer.
"It...sometimes it takes a while to kick the flu." The counter was at her back, halting her retreat.
Nick stopped in front of her, much too close for comfort. He loomed over her, his broad shoulders filling her view. She wanted to push him out of the way and run. And she wanted to put her head against his shoulder and feel his arms around her, shutting out the world.
"Are you pregnant?"
The blunt question caught her off guard. She hadn't expected him to bring it out in the open, to voice the word she could hardly even bring herself to think. She stared at him helplessly, her mind emptied of clever answers and evasions. Not that they would have made any difference. He read the answer in her eyes.
His breath hissed out, as if he hadn't really believed it until that moment. The kitchen was utterly still around them. She heard someone laugh outside, but the sound was far off and without meaning.
"My baby," he said. It wasn't a question, but Kate nodded. She closed her eyes against the sharp sting of tears. This was what she'd been dreading, yet now that the moment had arrived, she was almost relieved.
"How long have you known?" he asked hoarsely.
"A little over a week."
"Over a week," he repeated. He shook his head as if trying to clear it. When he looked at her, his eyes were sharp and hard. "Were you going to tell me or were you going to try to pass the baby off as Gareth's?"
Kate whitened. Guilt put a sharper edge to her anger, because for one brief, shameful moment she'd considered that possibility. "I wouldn't do that,"
"No?" Nick arched one brow in question. "But you haven't told him the truth, have you? You haven't told him that we slept together. And just when did you plan on telling him that you're carrying my child?"
"She doesn't have to."
Nick heard Kate's horrified gasp as he spun around. Gareth stood in the door, his skin drained of color, his eyes blank with shock.
"She doesn't have to tell me," he repeated. "I already know."
Chapter 14
Nick groped for something to say but his mind was completely empty.
"Dad changed his mind," Gareth said, sounding as dazed as Nick felt. He lifted the bottle he held. "I came in to get him another Coke." His gaze shifted from Kate to Nick and his mouth curved in a thin, humorless smile. "Lousy timing, I guess."
"Gareth." Kate took a shaky half step toward him. "I'm so sorry. I never meant for you to find out like this."
"No?" He turned and set the bottle on the counter, his movements carefully controlled. "Just how did you plan on me finding out?" he asked. When he looked at her again, Kate flinched from the anger in his eyes. "Were you going to tell me over dinner some evening? Or maybe you were going to tell me after we slept together?'' Rage broke through the calm, putting a cutting edge to his voice. "Did you think I'd take this kind of news better after a good screw?"
''That's enough!" Nick stepped between them, as if to physically protect Kate from the sharp bite of his words.
"Enough?" Gareth looked at him, his eyes burning with rage and pain. "I don't think it's nearly enough." He looked past Nick at Kate, who stood white-faced and silent beneath the lash of his anger. "Is this why you've been keeping me at arm's length?" he demanded. "I've been worrying about your health, and the only thing wrong with you is that you're fucking my brother?"
"That's enough," Nick said again. "She's not the one to blame here."
"How noble of you," Gareth snarled. He shifted position so that he faced Nick squarely. "How the hell long has this been going on? Since you came home?"
"We didn't— It's not that way," Kate said, only to shrink back when he turned toward her.
"You're pregnant with another man's baby—my brother's baby. How the hell many ways can there be?"
"It only happened once," she offered and then winced at the weak stupidity of her words.
"Oh, well, that's all right then," Gareth said, his voice razor sharp and just as deadly. "I
f it was just once, then I guess I really don't have any reason to be upset, do I?"
"Back off." Nick stepped forward, this time blocking Kate entirely from his sight.
"You back off," Gareth said, his voice rising. "I want some answers."
"You've got a right to answers," Nick agreed. "But I won' let you bully her. Any problems you have are with me. Leave her out of it."
"That's a little hard to do, don't you think?"
"What on earth is going on in here?" Philip asked as he stepped into the kitchen behind Gareth. Sara was with him, her expression worried as she looked between her sons.
"We could hear the two of you clear outside," she said. "What's wrong?"
"Why don't you ask Nick?" Gareth said, gesturing sharply toward his brother. He turned away as if he couldn't bear to look at him another second. "Maybe he'll be able to explain to you how my fiancee happens to be carrying his baby."
Kate flinched as Sara and Philip looked at her. Shame was a solid lump in her throat, choking her.
"I don't understand," Sara said, bewildered.
"It's simple enough," Gareth snarled. "It seems Kate is pregnant with Nick's child."
"We gathered that much," Philip said, struggling to retain some control over the situation. "I don't understand how."
"Oh, come on. Dad!" Gareth laughed harshly. "It's simple enough. He's been fucking her."
"That's enough!" Nick said sharply. "This isn't accomplishing anything."
"Please," Kate whispered. "I can't bear for you to argue because of me."
"You should have thought of that before you slept with my brother," Gareth snapped. "Or did you think I'd just give you my blessing when I found out about it?"
His anger was all the more hurtful for being justified. Kate had no defense to offer, no excuses to give. There was nothing she could say that would make up for the pain she'd caused him.
Home to Eden Page 18
