ONCE UPON A VALENTINE Page 12

  “It’s ridiculous. I know.” She pushed her tangled hair back from her face and pulled in a quick breath. “I’m sorry I upset you the other night.”

  His expression didn’t change. “Upset is one word for it.” He flicked open his coat and lifted his arm, hooking his fingers over one of the latches on an upper cabinet near his head. “But you haven’t changed your mind about anything.”

  The gray T-shirt he wore beneath the jacket was stretched to the limit across his hard chest. She dragged her eyes away. “I know some things will change.”

  His lips twisted.

  “Obviously, I don’t have the proper room for a baby in my apartment right now,” she added.

  “I don’t care if you ever have room,” he said. “I want you living somewhere safer.”

  “I can’t afford to move!”

  “Moving in with me doesn’t cost you a dime. In fact, it will save you rent altogether.”

  Alarm bells started clanging inside her head. “Move in with you,” she repeated stupidly. As what? His lover? His roommate?

  “And I can damn sure promise that the cops don’t have reason to come calling at my place three times a day,” he added.

  “I can’t move in with you!”

  His brief smile was sardonic. “Can’t isn’t the same thing as won’t.”

  “I don’t need an English lesson!”

  “You told Bea I had an equal say where our son was concerned. So you’re saying you didn’t mean that after all?”

  She let out a consternated huff. “Yes, I meant it.”

  His expression hardened. “Then you said it, figuring you’d never have to worry about it because you’re certain I’m gonna book sooner or later.”

  Wasn’t that exactly what she was afraid of? “No,” she denied, sounding strangled. She cleared the knot from her throat. “I said it because I meant it.”

  “Then I say, I want you under my roof.”

  Her legs felt unsteady. She wanted to blame it on the rhythmic rocking of the water beneath the boat, but the faint motion was much more soothing than agitating. “Do you really think that’s wise?”

  He lifted an eyebrow, waiting.

  “Things are complicated enough without us—” She pulled in another steadying breath. “Endingupinbedtogether,” she said on a rush.

  His head dipped toward her and his voice dropped. “Afraid you won’t be able to control yourself?”

  She felt surrounded by him. By his height. By his scent. By him. And it infuriated her—because he knew it.

  She could see it in his eyes. In the devilish quirk at the corner of his infernally perfect mouth.

  Her common sense snapped right in two.

  She angled her chin, shaking her hair back as she slid her hand behind his head and pulled it down.

  “Can you?” she whispered and pressed her mouth to his.

  Chapter Nine

  The best-laid plans.

  The thought was fleeting in Pax’s head, rapidly shoved aside by the taste of Shea.

  Her lips, seductive and greedily sweet, moved across his, and he had as little defense against them now as when she’d kissed him during the ice storm.

  He pushed his fingers through her hair, tilting her head further so he could deepen the kiss, and she made a low, approving sound that went straight down his spine. Her lips parted and her tongue danced, and his self-control snapped.

  He ran his mouth down the side of her neck and felt her hands yank at his shirt, thrusting beneath to press against his skin. She groaned and twisted her head until she found his mouth again, and he yanked off her jacket, filling his hands with her breasts.

  She let out a soft cry and her head fell back. He could feel her shaking, and he mindlessly backed up until he felt the bunk behind him. He fell onto it, pulling her down over him and dragging her shirt upward, letting his eyes feast before he pulled aside the sheer fabric of her bra, baring her creamy skin to his mouth.

  She jerked, breathing his name.

  Her hair tumbled around him as she straightened her arms against the bunk and arched against his mouth. She was coming undone right beneath his hands, and he clamped his fingers around her rocking hips, urging her on.

  She suddenly cried out, shuddering wildly, and he groaned, scrambling for some control, but it was already beyond him. He reached between them and worked down her zipper, delving beneath her silky panties, and she bowed her head over his, arching into his hand.

  But the moment his fingertips found her sweet heat, she froze.

  Jerked back.

  She suddenly planted her hand on his chest and pushed up, nearly unmanning him with her knee as she untangled her legs from his and scrambled to her feet, yanking up her zipper.

  Her eyes were round and wide, her lips rosy and her breasts tauntingly displayed.

  As if realizing it, she tugged her bra into place and pulled her beige shirt down to her hips. “I can’t believe I let this happen again!”

  He was hard and ached to his back teeth for her. But the horror in her eyes kept his hands to himself.

  “You kissed me, sweetheart,” he reminded. He levered off the bunk, and even though he’d built the boat himself, had taken her out too many times to count, he still managed to slam his head into the overhead locker. He muttered an oath and headed for the steps.

  The sooner he got out on deck in the open air, the better his chances were of not losing his mind entirely.

  She was hard on his heels, fumbling into her jacket. “Yes, because I was trying to prove a point!”

  “Not get naked and have hot crazy sex on my boat?” He slammed the hatch closed and grabbed a perfectly coiled rope, coiling it all over again just to keep from reaching for her—whether to convince her to finish what they’d started, or to throttle her, he wasn’t sure. “Maybe if we stopped trying to prove our points, we could start working together!” He flung aside the rope and it slithered right over the side and into the water.

  She caught the end before the whole length could go overboard and silently held it out. Her hand was shaking.

  He took it, avoiding even the slightest graze against her hand, and jerked the rest of the rope out of the water, hunting for the patience that he usually had in abundance. She’d thrown him one hell of a curveball. But he was damned if he’d lose sight of the entire ballgame.

  Namely her, and their baby, in his life.

  Period.

  “I don’t want to have to worry about you living alone over at that place,” he said flatly. “If you get sick,” he added pointedly. “If something goes wrong. If somebody breaks in while you’re sleeping. I don’t—” He stopped and took a deep breath. Let it out and flipped the rope into another practiced coil. “I don’t give a damn what kind of money you have or don’t have, what you can or cannot afford or whether it is wise.” Finished with the rope, he jammed it over its hook. “I want you to be where I can take care of you. You’re having my kid for Christ’s sake!” He finally looked at her. “Is it that unnatural that his parents happen to have the hots for each other?”

  The rain was more mist than drops, and in the dwindling sunlight it settled in sparkles all over her hair as the silence between them lengthened.

  Then she suddenly lifted her hand and jabbed her finger toward him, though it was none too steady. “I’m not going to do your laundry,” she said abruptly.

  He went still. “What?”

  Her eyes avoided his. “A-and if I cook, you’re cleaning up afterward,” she added.

  Maybe he’d conked his head harder than he’d thought, or all of his blood was still occupied elsewhere, because he’d gone strangely lightheaded. “You’ll move into my apartment.”

  Her jaw slanted. She dropped her hand. “How could I refuse when you
ask so nicely?”

  “Pardon me if I sound a little too cranky for your liking.”

  She flushed brightly. “I’m sorry. I never intended—”

  He cut her off, not exactly in the mood to hear her stumbling excuse. “When?” he demanded.

  She threw her hands in the air. “I don’t know! I have to give notice at my apartment and pack, and—” she broke off and brushed her hand over her forehead. “Marsha-Marsha is not going to be happy about this.” Her gaze flew back to his. “And you have a dog.” She said it like it was the worst possible sin.

  But there was no way he was going to let her slip away now. “Hooch is a friendly dog.” That was true. “Gets along great with cats.” That was possibly true. He didn’t know because Hooch had never spent any time with cats before.

  “Really?” Her tone dripped with sudden suspicion. “They’ll be cooped up all day in the same space.”

  “Not all day. I take Hooch out mornings and nights.” And he had a dog walker who came during the afternoon.

  “But it’s still an apartment.”

  “Then I’ll buy a freakin’ house,” he countered flatly. “With a big-ass yard.” He wasn’t going to admit to her he’d already been looking any more than he wanted to admit to himself that he kept picturing her living there with him. “Plenty of space for Hooch and the baby to play.”

  Panic slid over her face.

  He’d gone too far and he wanted to swear a blue streak.

  “Or we’ll stay in Belltown,” he revised abruptly. “There’s an extra bedroom at my place. Marsha-Marsha can have it all to herself. Hooch’ll never bother her.”

  She chewed the inside of her lip. “And if I want the extra bedroom?”

  He exhaled, blowing out his frustration, because there was no denying the uncertainty written on her face. “Do you?” It was no secret which arrangement he preferred, and he’d be damned if he’d pretend otherwise.

  “I don’t know,” she whispered.

  It was an honest answer, at least, even if it wasn’t the one his aching gut wanted. “Let’s just get your stuff moved,” he said gruffly. “And take it from there.”

  She gnawed on her lip for a moment. “Okay. But I don’t still need to go with you to your partner’s wedding, right?”

  He smiled. He’d probably regret the genuine pleasure he took in her discomfort. “What do you think?”

  * * *

  “Are you a friend of the bride?”

  Shea looked away from the two men standing at the front of the small Port Orchard chapel to the carrot-topped woman who’d slid into the pew next to her.

  “Sort of,” she whispered back. Shea had only met Rory the night before at the small rehearsal dinner held in Seattle. She didn’t think that one dinner with Rory and a half-dozen other people would qualify her as a friend, but neither did interviewing the groom a handful of times.

  The wedding hadn’t yet officially begun, and Erik and Pax were talking to the people taking up the first several pews. Naturally some of them were Erik’s family members, but Shea was surprised at how many of them were related to Pax. She looked at the woman beside her again. “You?”

  “I’ll be selling my handmade candles when Rory opens the Harbor Market for the season.”

  The market, Shea had also learned the night before, was the seasonal business that Cornelia had helped Rory take over shortly before she’d hired Shea. The place had belonged to Erik’s grandparents and he’d handled the sale for them as well as worked with Rory to get the business reestablished and ready for operation come spring.

  She also now realized that Erik and Rory were one of Cornelia’s “happy coincidences.” Shea figured the only reason Cornelia wasn’t there to beam her personal approval was because Harry had whisked her to New York for the weekend. Cornelia hadn’t even been in her office for Shea’s usual Friday check-in.

  It was just as well.

  When Shea hadn’t been working on one of Harvey’s assignments, she’d been busy sorting and packing all of her belongings to move in with Pax. Not much time had been left to read the material Cornelia had given her. And if the few requests that she had managed to read so far were any indication, she wasn’t holding out much hope she’d find any pieces of gold among the dross.

  Pax and Erik took their positions as the strains of a violin began and the low murmur of people talking died away.

  Since Gloria had divorced Shea’s father, she’d been at every one of her mother’s subsequent weddings. She knew her attention was supposed to be on the bride and the groom, and she tried. She really did.

  Erik’s eyes were glued to his intended, who seemed to float along the chapel’s short aisle, holding the hand of her little boy, Tyler. He was trying to maintain a solemn expression, though his face kept splitting into a wide grin that showed off a missing front tooth.

  But Shea’s focus kept turning to Pax, who looked taller than ever and unfairly handsome in a dark, pinstriped suit. He was also plainly pleased for his friend and partner and clearly relaxed.

  Which was more than she could say for herself.

  She felt like she was wound tighter than a cheap watch.

  She’d thrown herself at him. And even though he hadn’t mentioned that fact the few times they’d spoken on the phone since then, or when he’d picked her up for the rehearsal dinner the night before, she couldn’t put it out of her mind.

  He wasn’t even going along with any sort of normal time frame to move from her home into his. He’d arranged for the movers to come the next morning. And she, try as she might, couldn’t come up with a valid reason to stop them.

  By this time tomorrow, Shea Weatherby would be living under Paxton Merrick’s roof.

  He’d told his family.

  Everyone had seemed delighted. Including Beatrice. She was sitting next to Shea now, and Pax’s parents were in the pew in front of them. The chapel was just this side of minuscule. Shea figured there were about forty people present, with at least ten standing in the back. She’d have been happy to be one of them, where escape was within easy reach.

  Rory and Erik had turned to face one another to share their vows. Even though Shea had been through these events a half-dozen times, the emotion in their voices made her throat tighten. There was no question they were deeply in love. She only hoped for their sake that it would last.

  Her gaze snuck back to Pax, only to find him watching her.

  She wanted to run and hide. Something she couldn’t possibly do. Not with Candle Lady on one side of her and Pax’s sister on the other. She finally got a reprieve when he had to turn his own attention back to his best man duties and produce the wedding ring he’d been keeping in his pocket.

  Linda suddenly turned to look at her over the back of the pew. Her eyes were misty. “Maybe the next wedding in this chapel will be yours and Pax’s,” she whispered.

  Shea smiled weakly.

  And then everyone was standing, clapping and laughing because the minister had just presented the new mister and missus, and young Tyler had given a fist-pumping “yes.”

  Gloria had always loved leaving the church on the arm of her latest, shiny new husband without really stopping to chat with the guests. Probably because the grand exit assured her of being the absolute center of attention.

  But Rory and Erik weren’t doing anything of the sort. They were stopping and talking and laughing with everyone along the way until it seemed as if all the guests were part of the exodus out the double doors. And the rain gods were smiling upon them—the sky was a perfect robin’s egg blue without a cloud in sight.

  Shea knew that Pax was working his way toward her, but she still trembled when he slid his hand around her waist before nudging her forward into the departing throng. He bent down until his mouth was near her ear. “Imagine that. You sur
vived crashing a wedding without the walls falling in.”

  She dared a quick glance at him. “You may want to be a stand-up comedian, but don’t quit your day job.”

  His dimple flashed.

  Her stomach swooped.

  And she knew she was in for a long night.

  If Shea hadn’t already realized how close Erik’s and Pax’s families were, she got a clue when they migrated to the reception, which was being held under a tent on the lawn behind Linda and Daniel’s house. They’d insisted on it, since Erik’s parents had moved to California some time ago. They were even going to watch Tyler for the next week so the newlyweds could get away for a honeymoon.

  Given the clear skies and beautiful sunset, nobody stayed under the tent for long. Particularly after the toasts had been made, the sumptuous meal had been served and the dancing started.

  Now, Shea was sitting off to the side at one of the round tables that had been dragged out from under the tent, and everywhere she looked there were smiles and laughter and hugs and children running around with wedding cake smeared on their faces.

  Beneath the table, she slipped her feet out of the high-heeled pumps she’d bought the day before during a mad dash through the mall. They pinched her toes but on the mannequin they’d looked like the perfect match for the pale blue floaty dress Shea had ended up buying. She hadn’t wanted to brave another trip to her mother’s closet. She hardly shared all the details of her life with Gloria, but she’d been afraid that, face to face, she wouldn’t be able to refrain from telling her she was moving in with Pax.

  And why.

  She had enough doubts without adding a heaping helping of her mother on top of them.

  “Here.” Beatrice returned from the buffet table with two drinks in her hand, setting one next to Shea’s elbow. “Orange juice,” she said. “Purely virginal.”

  “Thanks.” Shea took a sip, nodding toward Rory and Erik, who were swaying together several yards away. “They make a pretty couple,” she murmured. Pax was dancing too, with his mother. But the sight of them was almost too much to take. She couldn’t forget just how well he could move. And wouldn’t it figure that he’d also know how to waltz?