A Little Bit Pregnant. Susan Mallery
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as stupid as team colors, she often won. They were only two weeks into the regulation season and she was already up by three games.
They didn’t bet money. Instead they keep a running total and whoever had the most wins at the end of the season owed the loser a day of slave labor. The previous season he’d had big plans to make her cook, stocking his freezer with homemade dinners. Instead he’d spent nearly eight hours washing and waxing her van. Afterwards, he’d been sore for three days.
“I’m going to have you paint my living room,” she said dreamily as she wrote down the rest of their picks. “I’m thinking of a color-wash treatment that’s going to take at least three coats of paint.”
He shook his head. “Not this time, sweet pea. You’re going to be cooking your heart out.”
“That’s what you said last year. Do we remember what happened instead?”
“I’d rather not.”
She grinned. “You’ve got to start listening to the experts, Zane. They usually know who’s going to win the games.”
“That’s cheating.”
“No, that’s beating your fanny.”
She grinned as she spoke. Laughter danced in her green eyes. He smiled back.
“You’re smart for a girl.”
She picked up her fork and leaned forward. “You left out pretty. Earlier you said I was pretty enough to get some macho, brainless guy with huge muscles.”
He studied her heart-shaped face. With big eyes and a full, sensual mouth, she was more than pretty. Long auburn curls cascaded down her back. Every swaying movement begged a man to run his fingers through them. Put all that on a body that, while not as lush as the women he dated, had all the right curves in exactly the right places and she was a serious contender.
“You’re okay,” he said.
She laughed. “Wait. I want to pause and savor this moment for as long as possible. The wildly extravagant compliment has gone to my head.”
He pointed his fork at her. “Come on, Nicki. You know you’re attractive. Half the guys in this place can’t take their eyes off you.”
“Only half?” She glanced around. “I suppose that’s something.”
He followed her gaze and saw a couple of businessmen in tailored suits giving her the once-over. There were three college guys in the corner. They practically had their mouths hanging open.
“I rest my case,” he said.
“Their attention will last for a long as it takes us to finish our meal and head for the door.”
He frowned. “Because of the chair?”
She shrugged. “Well, duh. What do you think?”
“That you’re crazy. They’re not going to care.”
Nicki being in a wheelchair meant that she was faster than him and more likely to run him over if she was annoyed. But it didn’t make her any less attractive.
“It doesn’t bother Brad,” he said.
“Boyd. And you’re right. It doesn’t. But he’s into substance.”
“I’m not and it doesn’t bother me.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s because we’re friends. You wouldn’t date a woman in a wheelchair.”
He considered the statement. “I would if she had really big breasts.”
Nicki shook her head. “I don’t know if I should thank you or stab you with my knife.”
“Technically you work for me. If you tried to stab me it would reflect poorly on your next evaluation.”
“You drive me crazy.”
He grinned. “I know. Isn’t it great?”
When they’d finished lunch and she’d badgered him into paying, he stood and she pushed back from the table. Zane paused to watch the men in the restaurant.
None of them had noticed the sleek wheelchair. Nicki had hers specially made by a guy in California. It was lightweight, made to fit her slender body and more low-profile than most.
The college guys exchanged a look of surprise, shrugged and continued to stare. One of the businessmen turned away, but the other looked as if his eyes were about to fall out. Just as he’d thought. Most of them didn’t care.
He followed her into the parking lot. She hit the remote on her key chain, which activated the special motor installed in back. The rear doors of the van opened and a ramp lowered. Nicki rolled onto it and rose to level with the back of the vehicle. While he slid into the passenger side, she secured the back doors and moved in behind the steering wheel. Special grooves locked her chair into place and a custom-built harness acted as a seat belt. She started the engine.
“They were still looking,” he said conversationally.
“I’m not,” she told him.
“Brad isn’t all that.”
She sighed. “Boyd, Zane. His name is Boyd. You’ll be meeting him in a couple of nights at the Morgans’ party. Please try to remember his name by then.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Who are you bringing? Miss Apple Festival?”
He shrugged. Currently he was between women. Oddly enough, he was in no hurry to find a new one, either. He glanced at Nicki. The two of them had never been uninvolved at the same time. Not that he would ask her out if they were. Nicki was…
He glanced out the window. Nicki was special. She mattered to him and he made it a rule to never get involved with anyone fitting that description. Not again.
Chapter Two
“So the guy says, ‘It’s only a parrot.’” Rob, one of the burly bodyguards employed by the company laughed as he finished telling his joke.
Nicki rolled her eyes and smiled. Rob loved telling jokes nearly as much as he loved puns. At times conversations with him were physically painful as he went from pun to pun.
“You’re not sweating, Nicki,” Ted called. “I want to see you sweat.”
“Bite me,” Nicki yelled back as she picked up the pace on the recumbent bike. Her thigh muscles ached, but in a good way. As for sweat, there was a river of it pouring down her back.
She hated aerobics. Oh sure, they were good for her heart and probably added years to her life, but she loathed them with a cheerful intensity that never faded. Unlike Zane, who thought all forms of physical activity were pure play.
Speaking of which, he chose that moment to stroll into the company gym. The bodyguards called out a greeting. Nicki ignored him because looking at him would spike her blood pressure and set off alarms.
But as he approached, she couldn’t resist a quick peek at his long bare legs, the loose gym shorts and cutoff T-shirt that exposed way too much flat, sculpted tummy. The man had a serious body.
She would have accepted that with good grace if she’d been able to study it impersonally. As if he were nothing more than fine art. Very fine art. But what she resented most was her visceral reaction to that A+ set of abs. She wanted. Yup, physical cravings set in that made the PMS need for chocolate seem wimpy by comparison.
“Hey,” he said as he slumped down into her wheelchair. “You’re not sweating.”
“That’s what I said,” Ted told him as he straightened and grabbed a towel. “The girl’s loafing.”
“The woman is busting her butt,” Nicki complained.
Zane ignored her. “I