About the Baby

  “It can wait until tomorrow.” She climbed out of the car, came around his side and opened his door like he was an invalid or something.

  Her concern warmed him even as it freaked him out a little. He didn’t need to be coddled. Taking care of people was his job. Abdicating it, even for a night, made him nervous in a way he couldn’t explain.

  And still, he wanted to ask her to stay. To sleep with him, make love with him. Not because he needed her, but because…

  He didn’t know why. He just knew that he wanted her, badly. And didn’t have a clue what to do if she didn’t feel the same.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  KARA HUSTLED LUCAS UP the front walk to his house, then waited patiently as he fumbled for his keys. She knew he was a little confused by arriving here and not at the clinic. She’d been here a million times before, so she knew he was out of sorts because she had made the decision in an effort to take care of him.

  He was even worse at allowing people to do that than she was.

  Not that she cared. Not tonight, when he looked more lost and more fragile than she had ever seen him. Tonight, she would take care of him whether he liked it or not.

  She knew he was in bad shape when, once they were inside, he wandered aimlessly through the foyer without bothering to turn on any lights. He kicked his shoes off in the doorway to the living room, then dropped his tie on the table in the hall. Definitely not his modus operandi.

  Not knowing what else to do, she followed behind him, flicking on a lamp here and a light switch there. Lucas didn’t stop until he got to the kitchen, but once there he just froze. Shoulders slumped, head bowed. Like he had no idea what he was supposed to do now.

  And maybe he didn’t. God knows, she was playing it by ear herself. Blowing out a deep breath, she walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. He jumped a little at the first touch, but relaxed slowly as she pressed her cheek against his back and just held him for long seconds.

  He smelled good, even with the day he’d had—like lemon trees and hot coffee and warm, welcoming man. He smelled like comfort, like Lucas, like home. She closed her eyes, breathed him in. As she did, she counted the slow, steady beat of his heart beneath her ear.

  It sucked, really, how she’d been all around the world—more times than she could count—and the only home she’d ever been able to count on was right here, with him. She thought of the baby inside of her, of her gynecologist’s dire warnings, and wanted to weep. She might never be able to have the man, to hold on to him, but she desperately wanted a chance to cradle his baby in her arms.

  He was so defeated, so unlike the Lucas she was used to. Part of her wondered if she should have waited to tell him about the baby. God knows it was one more burden he didn’t need right now. And if the unthinkable happened, if she lost the baby, then it would have been one less burden for him to carry on his broad shoulders. She hated that she’d been a party to hurting him today, that she’d been a part of making him look so lost. She wished she could do something to make the pain go away.

  The thought had her pulling away a little despite the rough sound of protest he made. Knowing she was walking into dangerous waters, but not caring at that moment—wanting only to care for him—she slid her right hand up his back to his shoulders, his neck. And began to slowly rub and squeeze the tightness away.

  He moaned, low in his throat, his right hand coming up to capture her left one where it rested on his shoulder. “That feels good,” he rasped.

  “Then just relax. Enjoy it.” Her own voice was husky, shaky. Which was ridiculous. She’d given him hundreds of massages before and he had done the same for her back when he’d been seriously considering going into orthopedic medicine. Those times had been different, though. She hadn’t slept with him then, hadn’t known what he tasted like or what it felt like to have him inside of her. Now that she did—now that the life they had unknowingly created was nestled deep within her—it felt different. Better, and in some ways, worse.

  She should probably stop, but she was too much of a masochist for that. No matter how much it might hurt later, it felt good to be here with him now. To touch him, hold him. To comfort him, and in doing so, comfort herself, as well.

  It didn’t last, though—not that she’d really expected it to. Not with Lucas, who could only bend so far before

  he cracked. He’d done a lot of bending today already.

  “You need to eat,” he said, turning to face her.

  She looked at the ground because she needed a minute to process his rejection. Intellectually, she knew that wasn’t what he’d meant to do, but emotionally it was so much harder to accept. Especially when her crazy hormones had her feelings bouncing all over the place.

  She started to tell him that she was okay, but it would be a lie. And no matter how messed up things were right now, she’d never lied to Lucas and she didn’t plan on starting now. “Yeah. I probably should.” Her stomach was churning wildly, the nausea worse because she was so hungry.

  “I can call a cab, grab something to eat on the way home.” She started to move around him, expecting him to step back and let her through.

  He didn’t budge. Instead, he slipped a finger under her chin and tilted her face up until there was nowhere to look but into the swirling depths of his eyes. “Don’t,” he said.

  “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t hide from me. I can see you don’t feel good. Sit down and let me make you something to eat. Let me take care of you.”

  She was starting to hate those six words more than anything, and part of her wanted to snap that she could take care of herself. But she could see that Lucas was lost, that he needed something to ground him. Taking care of her right now was obviously what he needed.

  Still, she knew it was a bad idea. In her head, she could list the many, many reasons going down this road would only hurt her in the end. But when she looked into his face, so open and vulnerable, so unlike the Lucas she was used to, she knew she wasn’t going anywhere. She couldn’t leave him like this, and didn’t want to, anyway.

  “Okay,” she told him, turning her head so that her lips brushed against his suddenly unsteady palm. Which was shocking in and of itself, as Lucas had always had incredibly steady hands. Surgeon hands, though he’d chosen to be an internist instead.

  And then, because tonight was different, special, outside of the norms of their relationship—much like that night three months ago—she did what she really

  wanted to do. Slipped her tongue a little bit past her lips and licked her way across his warm, callused palm.

  Lucas’s eyes darkened and he reached for her, but she slipped away, put a little distance between them. She didn’t want to start something they couldn’t finish,

  at least not without endangering her already precarious pregnancy.

  “Sit down,” she murmured to him softly. “I’ll find something for us to eat.”

  “You should rest. I’ll do it.” He headed for the kitchen, but he looked exhausted.

  “We can do it together,” she told him as she followed him. “We’ll be done twice as fast.”

  She opened the refrigerator, conscious as she did of him watching her every move. “I’m starving.” She knew the admission was all it would take for him to get with the program, and when her stomach actually growled a few seconds later—lending credence to her claim—she knew she was right. Lucas the caretaker would never let her go hungry.

  H
is fridge was surprisingly well stocked, considering the fact that he’d never been much of a cook, but she decided on a frittata, anyway. It was fast, easy and bland enough—hopefully—that her stomach would accept it.

  She pulled out an array of vegetables—mushrooms, small red peppers, tomatoes, spinach, an onion—and set him to work chopping while she cracked and seasoned the eggs. Then she took her antinausea medicine as she sautéed the vegetables in a little olive oil before pouring the eggs over the top to cook. A few minutes later she shifted the pan to the already-warm oven and turned to make some toast, only to find that Lucas had beat her to it.

  He’d also cleaned some fresh strawberries and she couldn’t resist popping one in her mouth. They were one of the things she’d craved desperately in Africa, where there’d been none around. Since she’d gotten back to America, she’d devoured three or four pints on her own. Most of which she’d ended up throwing back up, but the cravings were bad enough that she hadn’t even cared.

  They sat down to dinner about half an hour after they’d started cooking it, and it was a surprisingly relaxed meal. Oh, the sexual tension from earlier was still there, but it had eased off some, while the easy friendship was out in full force. By mutual agreement they didn’t talk about her pregnancy or Lisa or the other victims of the accident or what the future was going to look like for his sister. Instead, they talked of normal things, mundane things that would seem absurd to anyone who wasn’t them. But it was what Lucas needed, what they both needed after the day’s emotional roller coaster, and she was more than ready to embrace it.

  Still, when dinner was over and they had loaded the plates into the dishwasher, she knew the reprieve was over. She needed to talk to him about a lawyer for Lisa. She’d brought it up at the hospital, then had let it slide when it was obvious Lucas hadn’t been ready to deal with it yet. But it was after ten now and the clock was ticking. First thing in the morning, even before he went to the hospital, he needed to secure legal representation for Lisa.

  His shoulders slumped as soon as she brought it up and the slightly lighter mood that had arrived with dinner disappeared so completely that she almost wished she hadn’t broached the subject. But that wasn’t fair—to Lisa or Lucas or the rest of their family. He might not want to deal with how much trouble his sister was in, but the police wouldn’t have any such qualms. Better to be prepared than to be blindsided when the charges finally came down.

  “I don’t know what to do,” he said, grabbing a beer out of the fridge for himself and a bottle of water for her. “That’s never happened to me before.”

  “I know. And I’m sorry. I wish I could make this whole thing just disappear.”

  “Yeah, me, too.” He sighed heavily. “I’ll call our family lawyer first thing in the morning, see if he has some suggestions.”

  “Paul’s wife is a criminal defense attorney,” she told him quietly. “I can call my boss tomorrow, ask for her number.

  He winced at the words criminal defense attorney, but eventually he nodded. “Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

  For long minutes, neither of them moved. Lucas just stared into space, his face cloudy and that fantastic mind of his racing a thousand miles a second, while she just stared at him. It wasn’t often that she got that opportunity and she was going to take advantage of it, even if it wasn’t the optimum time.

  When he’d first seen her, at his clinic, he’d told her that she looked like hell. Which was no more than the truth. Her skin was pale, her hair was lank and lacking shape. She’d lost a bunch of weight because of her illness and the pregnancy. Now, sitting here, a lot of that same description could be applied to him. It was obvious he still hadn’t gotten a haircut, and his hair had been too long before she’d left for Africa. His pallor was extreme, weariness of soul and body causing huge bags underneath his eyes. And while he hadn’t actually lost weight, tension had his jaw clenched so tightly that his cheekbones stuck out in sharp prominence.

  She wanted to make it all disappear for him, wanted to gather him in her arms and make all the bad things that were happening just go away—for both of them. A fear of what would happen next kept her in place, and a knowledge that none of the things that were happening to them were going to disappear for long.

  But as he sat there, growing more and more distant, suddenly she didn’t care. Not about tomorrow or the day after that or the day after that. Lucas needed her right now and she needed him, whether she wanted to or not.

  Filled with resolve and an aching tenderness that moved her in ways that few things ever could, she stood up and held out a hand to Lucas. When he didn’t immediately respond—he was too lost in his own world for that—it was her turn to thread their fingers together. Then she pulled him up and, with an arm around the waist, propelled him up the stairs to his bedroom.

  Once they were in the dark room, she turned on the small lamp on the dresser and shooed him toward the bathroom. “Go take a shower,” she told him.

  For long seconds, he didn’t move. Just looked at her as if he couldn’t quite comprehend what she was saying. She could tell the day was crashing in on him and all she really wanted to do was make it easier for him to get through the next few hours.

  With a sigh, and a quick wish that she was not going to regret this, she stepped into Lucas’s gigantic bathroom and turned on his double-headed shower. Then she reached for his shirt, began to slowly unbutton his dark blue dress shirt. His hands rose to hers, his fingers clasping hers in a soft but unbreakable grip. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice low and growly and so sexy that her knees actually trembled.

  She made sure her arousal didn’t show when she answered matter-of-factly, “Getting you ready for the shower.”

  “I’m not a child, Kara.”

  “I am well aware of that.” She jiggled her hands a little and he let go. Under his dark, watchful and aroused eyes, she finished unbuttoning the shirt and then slid it off his shoulders.

  “We said it was probably a one-time thing.”

  The words hurt, though she knew he was just being honest about his feelings even as he tried to clarify what was going on. “That was a one-time thing.”

  “Then what is this?”

  “A different one-time thing.”

  She reached for his belt, unbuckled it. Opened the clasp of his dress pants and slid the zipper down. As she did, he sprang free, as hard and long as she remembered. She paused for a moment, hands trembling, body shaking with a desire she knew she couldn’t satisfy. And slowly ran her palm over the front of his black boxer briefs, relishing the hot length of him under her hand.

  Lucas groaned then, reaching up to pull his undershirt over his head. She dropped to her knees in front of him and pulled off his socks before slowly sliding his boxers down his legs. Then, because she couldn’t help herself, she pressed a long, lingering kiss to his abdomen, right beside his navel, even as she stroked a hand up and down the hot, silky length of him.

  “Kara.” Her name was barely recognizable in the growl that came from his chest, but she relished it. The proof that Lucas was on the verge of losing control.

  Pushing to her feet, she kept her eyes locked on his as she slipped out of her own blouse and pants. She stood there for a moment in her red lace bra and panties—the ones she’d worn today because they gave her an extra boost of confidence—and let him look his fill. Then, when Lucas’s eyes darkened even more, their pupils growing enormous in the dim light, she stripped down until she was as nak
ed as he was.

  He started to speak, but she laid a finger on his lips, afraid that whatever he said was going to ruin this perfect moment between them. She knew this couldn’t last, knew it wasn’t permanent, but she didn’t need to hear him say it again. Not now, when she already felt so incredibly vulnerable.

  Eyes locked with hers, he slowly drew the tip of her finger into the wet heat of his mouth. He sucked on it for a second, then nipped at her before laving his tongue over and around her finger in an effort to take the small sting away.

  It was her turn to moan, to drop her head back and close her eyes as he did it again, and again. It felt so good, he felt so good, that she wanted to lose herself in him forever.

  But that wasn’t what this was about, and even if it was, that wasn’t possible right now.

  Still, she made no move to stop him, just stood there and enjoyed the heat coursing through her body. When he finally lifted his head, her stomach was quivery, her legs barely supporting her.

  Wanting to make him feel as good as he did her, she took his hands in hers and pulled him into the shower with her. He stiffened as the warm water hit them, then relaxed in a rush that had his eyes going sleepy and his body turning liquid against hers.

  Loving the way he looked when he was all tranquil and loose, she ran her hands over his arms, across his chest, down his back to his waist, massaging as she went in an effort to keep him that way.

  As she did, he sighed a little, lowering his head so that his brow rested against hers. She froze, barely daring to breathe in case it gave him the wrong idea, made him move. Because while they’d been friends for years, had even had sex and conceived a child together, she swore that this moment, this gesture of utter vulnerability on his part, was the most intimate they had ever been.

  Emotions crashed through her in an inseparable tangle. Love and compassion, fear and joy, sadness and determination. They were all there, in a mixed-up mess that she had no idea how to deal with. All she knew was that she didn’t want to lose him, didn’t want to lose this indefinable closeness that they shared.