That Night We Made Baby. Mary Wilson Anne
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logical Nicholas. Saying things she couldn’t rebut, things that made sense, but left her feeling helpless. “I don’t know.”
“I won’t cough on you, I promise.”
“You really do look awful,” she said without thinking.
He smiled a bit weakly, but it still jolted her slightly. “Thanks, I needed that,” he murmured, and as he spoke the smile was gone, replaced by a slight grimace and narrowing of his eyes. “You, on the other hand, look fantastic. Small town life must really agree with you.”
“Jensen Pass is not that small,” she said, “and you need to sit down.”
“I’d be glad to sit, if you’d make up your mind about the ride.”
She’d never known him to be sick before, but then again, she hadn’t known him for very long. “Maybe I should drive.”
She was worried there’d be another smile, but it never came. He passed a hand roughly over his face, then exhaled. “I’ll drive,” he said, his eyes narrowed even more, as if the harsh light in the garage was bothering him. “You’re coming?”
“Yes,” she said.
He turned and reached for the door handle of the gray Mercedes he’d been leaning against. A sleek, sports convertible that fit him perfectly. She should have known he’d be driving a car like this. “A new car?”
He opened the door and stood back. “Yes, and I want to keep it in one piece.”
“I’m not that bad a—”
He cut her off with a touch on her shoulder. “Get in. We aren’t going to argue about your driving skills right now.”
His fingers felt hot against her skin, shocking her, and she darted him a look before slipping into the luxurious leather interior and away from his touch. When he got inside with her, a scent she’d forgotten existed surrounded her—that mingling of mellow aftershave Nick always wore and a certain maleness that had always seemed to be all his.
She tried not to inhale too deeply and glanced away from Nick, down at the console between the seats. Something bright caught her attention in a sea of wood tones and leathers. Something small and glittery gold. A present. The size of a ring box. She looked away quickly, but not quick enough. Nick was watching her, but said nothing. She turned from him, realized that her stomach was tight and just stopped herself before she pressed a hand to her middle.
A ring box. Why did the idea of another woman in Nick’s life feel so horrible for her? She hadn’t been stupid enough to think he’d be without a woman for long. And she certainly wasn’t in his life any longer, and as soon as she signed the papers, everything would be done. But she couldn’t deny that it hurt a bit to have him heading into another relationship so quickly. Maybe that was why he’d shown up here to get the papers signed despite his being so sick.
She almost jumped out of her skin when he spoke again. “Where to?”
She told him which hotel, then he drove slowly out into the heavy afternoon traffic. Fingering the leather covered steering wheel, he inhaled audibly before speaking again. “So, you’re doing good?”
“Yes, and you?”
“Good, fine, busy.”
“That’s good. You like that, keeping busy.”
“Sometimes.” He rubbed the back of his neck and rotated his head slowly. “Today I could have used a calmer agenda.”
“Been in court all day?”
He cast her a sideways glance, the hazel eyes muffled by the dark lashes and the way his lids lowered slightly. “All day. Three cases.” He looked away. “I really messed up one case. The guy’s going to trial and I should have been able to cut a deal.”
Déjà vu. This could have been happening last summer, Nick tired from court, her listening to him, watching him wind down, then having her time with him. She stopped the thoughts, veering away from how they spent their time together. “I’m sure you’ll get him off even if it goes to trial,” she said. “Even if he’s a serial killer.”
“No serial killer,” Nick said.
“What did he do, burglary, rape, terrorism?”
“Bad checks.”
“Oh,” she said, biting her lip, killing a strange urge to laugh.
“Oh? That’s it?”
She looked at him now, and was startled at how tense he looked. His jaw was set and the brackets at his mouth were deeper with no trace of humor. It killed any laughter in her. “What do you want me to say? Is he innocent? I didn’t think that was a consideration for you. I wasn’t innocent.”
“No, you weren’t, were you?”
“Not even close. I didn’t mean to do anything, but I did it. I did it for good reasons, but that didn’t matter, did it?”
The traffic came to a dead stop before they reached the freeway. “We all do things for good reasons, then realize that we’ve messed up big time,” he said.
She looked away from him, his words too close to the past for her comfort. “I’m not so unique, am I?”
“Don’t underestimate yourself,” he muttered.
She looked back at him as he ran his hand over his face and she could see a thin film of moisture on his skin. “Nick, are you—?”
He hit the steering wheel with the flat of his hand, cutting off her words at the same time a siren sounded outside. “Just what I need,” he ground out as he stopped the car.
It was then she realized how crowded the street was and the fact that no one was moving except for a police car with its siren going, weaving in and out of the cars on the clogged street. The sirens wailed, then faded off as the squad car headed west and Nick reached for his cell phone. She had no idea who he called, but she heard him say where they were, then ask what was going on. He listened, then closed the phone and dropped it on the console.
“What is it?” she asked, straining to see in front of them.
“We aren’t going to be able to go this way for quite a while.” He sank back in the seat and exhaled. “There’s an incident near the freeway, and the police have the area shut down completely.”
“An incident?” she asked.
He looked around as he spoke. “Probably a standoff or an arrest or the ever popular slow speed chase. Whatever it is, the whole place is shut down tight.”
“You could get a new client, maybe,” she said.
The joke fell flat as he darted her a sharp glance. “I’ll leave that up to the ambulance chasers,” he said tightly, then turned toward her, his arm moving in her direction.
She wondered if he was going to put his arm around her. But was incredibly relieved when he gripped the back of her seat, twisted and looked behind him. “We’ll find an alternate route,” he said as he eased out of their lane, and off onto a side street.
She watched him, not missing the way he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, or the way he kept exhaling heavily. “Nick, you’re sick. Just let me drive.”
He glanced at her, those hazel eyes narrowed on her. “I’m sick, not crazy,” he said, but softened his words with a slight smile. “I’m also dying of thirst.”
“Then stop for a drink, and I can take a cab.” She spotted a row of small restaurants ahead of them. “Just stop at one of them, and I’ll find a cab.”
“Not a bad idea,” he said almost under his breath as he eased the car to the side of the street.
Sam looked to her right and saw he’d stopped in front of a small