Pursued(24)

Guilt slithered through her, made her palms sweat and her stomach  swirl. But she shoved it back down, hard. Nic had to go and he had to go  now. She repeated her mantra like the lifeline it was.

"Do you need help unpacking?" she asked, reaching for one of his suitcases.

"I've got it." He held the bag away from her. "Why don't you sit down  and rest while I empty these suitcases, and then I'll take you to  lunch."

"I'm pregnant, Nic, not an invalid."

"True, but I am neither pregnant nor an invalid, so I beat you." He  pointed to the monstrosity of a sofa without so much as batting an eye.  "Now, sit."

She did her best not to cringe. Why, oh why, had she not considered the  fact that he would expect her to sit on that couch? Which wasn't as bad  as lying on it, obviously, but was still not good.

"I actually prefer the bar stools," she said, gesturing to the three  chairs that lined the overhanging counter on the outside edge of her  kitchen.

As she turned away, she thought she heard him murmur, "I bet," under  his breath, but when she whirled back to look at him, his smile was  perfectly innocent.

Yeah, as if she was buying that.

After grabbing her laptop off her desk, she settled at the bar to put  the finishing touches on an article about the charity ball benefiting  the LA Zoo that she'd attended the night before. It was due by five, but  getting it in early could only help her career. Though Malcolm didn't  treat her any differently, she couldn't help feeling as if she was  persona non grata in the newsroom.

Or maybe that was her own sense of guilt and responsibility.  Stephanie-who'd been at the Times for nearly ten years-had assured her  that all reporters screwed up sometimes. Maybe that was true. But how  many of them screwed up on their first major assignment? When she'd  asked Stephanie that, her friend had suddenly needed to make a phone  call. Which told Desi everything she already knew.

She'd written the zoo story earlier because she'd thought it'd be hard  to work with Nic in her apartment. After all, the place was only about  seven hundred square feet, and he was big enough that it felt as if he  took up most of it.

Yet, as he unpacked, he was as unobtrusive as a gorgeous, six-foot-four  man could be. He didn't interrupt her, didn't ask her where he should  put his belongings. He just did his thing and let her do hers. If she'd  had a little more self-control and actually been able to stop herself  from stealing glances at him every five seconds, she probably would have  finished proofing her article a heck of a lot faster.                       
       
           



       

As it was, they finished their tasks at the same time, after which Nic  insisted on taking her out to lunch to celebrate their new living  arrangement. He plied her with queso and guacamole and deep-fried ice  cream-which was nowhere near as disgusting as it sounded-then took her  for a walk around Griffith Park. It was crowded because it was a  weekend, but it was fun all the same.

She'd spent so much of her life alone-by circumstance when she was  young and by choice after she reached adulthood-that it hadn't occurred  to her how nice it could be to do things with someone else. How  something as simple as a walk in the park became so much more fun when  there was someone to share it with.

And when they finally made it back to her apartment and she saw what  she'd missed earlier-three books on pregnancy and parenting that Nic  had, if judging by the bookmark placement, been spending some serious  time reading-it hit her that she might be in serious trouble.

Because for the first time since she'd decided to let Nic move in, she  wasn't thinking about how to get rid of him. Instead, she was thinking  of ways to make him stay.





Twelve

Nic had just finished shaving early Monday morning when Desi called to him from the kitchen. "Nic! Come here! Hurry up!"

The urgency in her tone struck fear into his heart, and he rushed out  of the bathroom and through the bedroom without even stopping to grab a  shirt. "Are you okay?" he called as he ran through her matchbox-sized  apartment. "What's wrong?"

He got to the kitchen before she could answer, and he glanced around  wildly, looking for some kind of threat. But there was nothing, only  Desi leaning against the kitchen counter, her hand on her stomach and a  huge smile on her face.

"Is something wrong with the baby?" he asked as he crossed the kitchen and stopped directly in front of her.

"He's kicking!"

It was so not what he'd expected her to say that it took her words a  few seconds to register. When they did, his gaze flew to her stomach.  He'd felt that one small kick at her desk, but he'd been too surprised  to appreciate it-or the fact that it happened on a regular basis. "He's  kicking?"

"Yes." Rolling her eyes at his slowness, she pushed her clothes out of  the way with one hand and grabbed his hand with the other. Then she  brought his palm to her bare stomach and held it there.

For long moments, he didn't feel anything and he looked at Desi  questioningly. But she just nodded her encouragement, her hand  tightening on his. So he waited, heart pounding and breath held, to  feel … something.

And then, there it was. A gentle bump against his palm.

"He kicked me!" he crowed with delight.

"Actually, I think he kicked me," she told him drily. "You're just collateral damage."

"Don't listen to your mother," he told the baby as he dropped to the  ground at Desi's feet and leaned his mouth close to her gently rounded  tummy. "She's just grumpy cuz she's not allowed coffee in the mornings  anymore."

"Hey! Don't be calling me grumpy to the baby." Desi poked at his shoulder. "Or I won't tell you the next time he kicks."

"See, I told you she was grumpy. Mean, too." He smoothed his palm over  her stomach, checking out the changes to her body since the last time  he'd been this close to her. There weren't many yet, despite the fact  that she was nearly halfway through her pregnancy. Just the added  roundness to her tummy and the swelling of her breasts, both of which he  found sexy as hell.

"You'd be mean, too, if you had to give up caffeine cold turkey."

"No doubt," he soothed, just as the baby kicked a second time.

"See! He got my hand again! I told you he was kicking me."

She snorted. "No offense, but your hand pretty much covers my entire stomach at this point."

He wasn't sure what it was that did it, but suddenly he was much less  aware of the baby and much more aware of the fact that he was on his  knees in front of Desi, his hand resting on the bare, silky skin of her  stomach and his mouth inches away from her sex.

Once the realization set in, he couldn't stop himself from leaning forward slightly and breathing her in.

Desi stiffened against him and he froze, ready to apologize. But she  didn't push him away. Instead, her hands came to rest on his shoulders,  then slid slowly up his neck so that her fingers could tangle in his  hair.

Desire shot through him at the first touch of her hands, and he leaned  forward even more, until he closed the last scant inch between her  stomach and his lips.                       
       
           



       

She groaned at his mouth on her skin, but again she didn't push him  away. Instead she pulled him closer, her body arching against his as her  fingers tightened in his hair. He'd read in one of the pregnancy  manuals he'd picked up that women's hormones went crazy during  pregnancy, which often caused a spike in their libido. If that was what  was happening now, he didn't want to take advantage of it, even though  his whole body ached with the need to touch her, to kiss her, to slide  inside her welcoming heat and feel her clench around him.

But at the same time, he didn't want to leave her like this, either. He  could feel her arousal in the way she was moving restlessly against  him, could hear it in the soft sounds of distress she was making in the  back of her throat. Could smell it in the sexy warmth of her skin.

"Let me make you feel good," he whispered against her skin as he skimmed his lips across her belly. "Just that. Nothing else."

"Yes," she said, her head falling back against the cabinet with a light thump. "Please, Nic. I need-"

He clamped a gentle hand over her mouth, not because he didn't want to  hear the words of need pouring out, but because they were building his  own arousal, making him hotter and harder than he'd been since the last  time he'd had Desi's body pressed against his own. And no matter how  much he wanted to make love to her right now, her words from the other  night-her rules-were fresh in his head.