ONCE UPON A VALENTINE Read online

  “They do.” Beatrice propped her elbow on the table and cupped her chin on her hand. “When I was thirteen, I had a terrible crush on Erik.” Her lips tilted. “I even cornered him in the boathouse once and kissed him.” She pointed to the building that jutted out over the water and chuckled. “He was eighteen and said if I ever pulled a stupid stunt like that again, he’d toss me off the dock. Fortunately, I realized during the whole debacle that kissing him was about as appealing as kissing my brother. Definitely not a great love affair in the making.” She laughed and lowered her voice. “I didn’t have a clue how great kissing could be until I went off to college and met my roommate’s brother, Trey.” She sat back and fanned herself with her hand. “Haven’t met a man yet who could live up to the way that man kissed.”

  Shea sipped her juice, looking over the glass at Pax. She hadn’t known what kissing was about either until she’d met him. And she was quite certain he couldn’t be surpassed. But she didn’t necessarily want to share that particular fact with the man’s sister.

  When he suddenly approached, she nearly choked and quickly set the glass back on the table.

  “Come on,” he said, extending his hand. “You’re not getting off scot-free here.”

  “I don’t really dance,” she excused quickly.

  “Oh, go on.” Beatrice nudged her. “It’s a wedding. Everyone has to dance.” To prove it, she hopped off her chair and nabbed Erik’s gray-haired grandfather as he passed by and pulled him toward the dancers.

  Shea looked up at Pax, unaccountably nervous at the notion of dancing with him. Which was silly, considering. “My shoes pinch.” She gathered her sweater around her as she leaned sideways and waved a bare foot where he could see.

  His half smile was knowing and he didn’t lower his hand. “So don’t wear them.” With his deep, assured voice, he was the soul of reason. “You are going to dance with me, so just deal with it. And try not to grumble too much,” he added. “It’s a wedding. Everyone should be smiling.”

  She shot him a look and stuffed her feet back into her shoes.

  “Thought they pinched,” he murmured against her ear when she rose and took his hand.

  She ignored him as he led her around to the far edge of the crowd before turning her into his arms. She knew immediately there was going to be no sedate waltzing with a respectable amount of space between their bodies.

  No. This was full on, body-to-body contact, only vertical and clothed.

  “Relax,” he murmured, rubbing his hand down her spine. “You’re thinking again.”

  “Not thinking enough is what got us here, remember?” But her hands were already sliding around his neck on their own accord, and her head had found a spot against his chest that seemed made for it.

  Off to the side, she could see Pax’s parents’ house, brightly lit and welcoming, situated at the top of the gently sloped lawn where they were dancing. He’d grown up in that house. Had never lived anywhere else until he’d left home for school. She couldn’t imagine how that felt. Every one of her mother’s marriages had included a new house. A new neighborhood. And after each divorce, it had been the same. A new apartment. A new school.

  She pushed the thoughts away, trying to concentrate on something else, but the feel of his body against her made thinking about anything at all a challenge.

  “The toast you gave for Erik and Rory was nice,” she finally blurted. Actually, it had been lovely, and she hadn’t been the only one who’d been moved by it. “Didn’t you ever worry about ruining your friendship by going into business together?”

  “Nope.”

  She angled her head back so she could see his face. A faint breeze was drifting over them and she heard the far-off moan of a ship’s horn. “Never?”

  His eyes were steady. “Isn’t there anything in your life that you knew, absolutely knew, was the right thing for you? That you didn’t doubt? Didn’t second guess?”

  She’d never doubted that he was more than she could handle.

  “Journalism,” she answered quickly. “I knew I wanted to be a journalist. Not that what I do for the Tub would qualify,” she added darkly. “If Harvey knew I was going to be here, he’d have passed out from excitement thinking he’d be in for an exclusive on Erik’s wedding.”

  Pax tilted his head, giving the wrapped bodice of her dress an openly considering look. “You have a digital camera tucked down your dress like you did that pen?”

  Despite everything, a laugh bubbled up. “Harvey’s not getting anything from me. Not this time.”

  “Damn.” His dimple appeared. “I don’t have an excuse to go camera diving.”

  Shivers rippled down her spine. “Nope.” She was vaguely aware of the music sliding from one dreamy song into another and highly aware of the press of his fingertips dipping toward the small of her back.

  She clung a little desperately to the most unromantic thing she could think of.

  “Harvey was the only one who hired me.” Despite her better intention, her head found that spot on Pax’s chest again and she ached inside when his arms seemed to tighten around her. “And I applied everywhere.”

  “You’ve got more experience to put on your resume now. If you really want to leave, do it.”

  She made a soft sound. “Probably not the best time for job hopping.”

  “Being pregnant, you mean.” His soft words brushed against her temple and his thighs moved slowly against hers.

  She exhaled shakily. Sensation trounced common sense. “Mmm-hmm.”

  “You wouldn’t have to work at all if you didn’t want to.”

  She shook her head, though rubbing her cheek against the warmth radiating from him was probably the real motive. She forced herself to stop. To lift her head so there was at least one part of her not plastered against him.

  She realized he’d danced her farther away from the others than she realized. “I’m not going to be your kept woman, Pax, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

  His head lowered and she felt his lips against her cheek. “‘Baby mama’ doesn’t fly for you?”

  She slowly shook her head.

  “What about ‘wife’?”

  Something inside her chest fisted.

  Beatrice had warned her he’d head in that direction.

  She pulled back again as far as his arm surrounding her would allow, which wasn’t far. “Getting married just because I’m pregnant is a bad idea. We already agreed.”

  “I didn’t agree,” he said quietly. “I just didn’t choose to debate the issue with you.”

  She didn’t know why she was tearful all of a sudden. But she was, and there was no way he could fail to notice. “Please don’t do this here,” she whispered thickly.

  He lifted one hand, touching her cheek gently. “Shea.”

  Tenderness from him would be her undoing. “You’re supposed to be celebrating your best friend’s wedding.”

  “I’m celebrating my best friend’s marriage. Anyone can have a wedding. Erik and Rory are going to have something a lot more important. Something that lasts a lifetime.”

  “And maybe they’ll get there,” she conceded huskily. “Right now they love each other, at least. They’re starting out with a better reason than pregnancy.”

  His feet stopped moving altogether, though he still held her close. “Why is it so hard for you to see what’s right in front of your face?”

  Her throat felt like a vice was tightening around it. “I don’t want us to end up hating each other.”

  Despite the dim lighting, his eyes searched hers, leaving her feeling raw. Exposed.

  “There’s no rule that says we will.”

  “And I don’t want—” she broke off, striving for composure “—this baby having the kind of childhood I had.”

  �
�You’re already lining up a half-dozen prospective husbands?” His tone was gently teasing. He brushed away a tear she hadn’t even realized was sliding down her cheek. “Ah, hell. You kill me when you do that,” he murmured and brushed his mouth softly over hers. Then he kissed her cheek, cradled the back of her head in his hand and kissed her forehead before tugging her close again. “I don’t want you to cry.”

  If he thought that was going to stop her, he was hugely mistaken. As she sniffled she was glad they were far enough away from the other guests that nobody was likely to notice. “My parents got married because of me.” Her voice was muffled against his chest. “That’s the only reason. It didn’t last even a couple years and the only way I knew my father at all was because of the occasional visit he made, despite the hatred between them.” Her fingers dug into his shoulders. “At least this way you and I can be...friends...and have some hope of staying that way.” She looked up at him. “This baby can still grow up with both of us around.”

  He didn’t answer right away. Just looked skyward for a moment and let out a long breath. “I guess that’s a no on the proposal.” His low voice was wry and her corkscrewed nerves unwound a notch. His arms tightened around her for a moment, and then he set her away, looking beyond her toward the others. “Looks like the happy couple’s getting ready to leave. I’d better—”

  “Of course.” She pulled her sweater more tightly around herself, managing a quick smile. “Go on and say your goodbyes or whatever. I’ll be along.” He didn’t look convinced and she gestured vaguely. “I’m just going to freshen up first.” To prove it, she took a few steps in the direction of the house.

  When she looked back, he was already striding toward Erik and Rory, scooping up a beer from somewhere and holding it aloft.

  She swiped her hands over her damp cheeks.

  She believed in her heart that she was right.

  So why was it all suddenly feeling so very wrong?

  Chapter Ten

  “No, no, that box is going to the donation center.” Shea hastily stepped out of the way of the hulking young guy carrying one of the last of her packing boxes toward the moving truck. “Could you put it in the trunk there?” She pointed to her car.

  Somehow she’d managed to score a parking spot almost directly in front of her building, so she could more easily load up the stuff she intended to drop off at the thrift shop before driving to Pax’s apartment in Belltown.

  The mover dumped the box in her trunk and went back into the building. He had two others working with them, and it was daunting how quickly they’d emptied her apartment. The only things left up there were a half-dozen boxes and Marsha-Marsha, whom she’d left unhappily contained in her crate tended by Gonzo next door.

  She had a key to Pax’s apartment tucked in her front pocket. He’d arrived at the same time the movers had, but he hadn’t stayed for long. He’d just given her the key and security code, made sure the movers were doing what they were supposed to do and left again because he had a client meeting that had been moved up.

  At least that’s what he’d said.

  She wasn’t sure if it were an excuse or not and supposed—in the end—that it didn’t matter. She didn’t need him to be there holding her hand, after all. It was just a simple matter of overseeing the movers.

  She sighed faintly as she went back inside the building and jabbed the button for the elevator. It figured that just when she was leaving, the darned thing would finally be running.

  The door opened, emitting another one of her movers; this one pushing a handcart with several boxes stacked on it. He nodded at her as they traded places. “Nearly done, ma’am. My guys have t’ have a lunch break and then we’ll be ready to deliver.”

  The word struck her and she barely kept her hand from pressing flat against her abdomen. “That’s fine. I’ll be there all afternoon.” The elevator doors closed between them, and a few creaking seconds later they let her out again on her floor.

  Gonzo was sitting in the hallway, his back against the wall between their apartment doors. Marsha-Marsha’s crate sat between his bent knees and he’d stuck a finger through the plastic slats to pet her. “You know anything about boat guy’s sailing camp?”

  Pax had a sailing camp? She shook her head. “No. Why?”

  He lifted a brochure that she hadn’t noticed sitting beside him on the floor and held it out. “He left this with my mom when he was here this morning.”

  Pax had come and gone in a matter of minutes. He’d even spoken more with the movers than he had with her. If those few words he had allotted her hadn’t clearly displayed his satisfaction over her moving, she would have feared he’d begun having the same doubts as she.

  She took the glossy pamphlet from Gonzo and unfolded it, quickly reading about the sailing camp aimed at underprivileged youth. Which Gonzo definitely was. His single mother worked days in a dry cleaner’s and took college classes online at night.

  She looked at him. “Are you interested in learning how to sail?”

  “I dunno. Maybe.” The boy lifted his shoulder. “My ma says I have to do something after school’s out.”

  “Well.” She handed him back the brochure. “I’m sure you’d enjoy it. I had a stepdad who took me sailing once. Once I got over being afraid because I didn’t know how to swim, it was a lot of fun.”

  “Boat guy doesn’t take you on his boat?”

  She shook her head, not wanting to think too hard about what had occurred between them on Honey Girl. “It says on the brochure that the enrollment is limited. If you’re really thinking about it, you should sign up soon.”

  Two movers came out of her apartment, each wielding a big box.

  “I suppose that’s the last of it?”

  The older of the two nodded. “You want to check around and make sure. Then Joey’ll have a paper for you to sign.” He didn’t wait around for her response but headed for the elevator, probably already thinking about his lunch break.

  She pulled out the ten dollars she’d promised Gonzo for watching Marsha-Marsha for her while the movers were there and handed it to him, then leaned over and wrapped her hand around the handle of Marsha-Marsha’s crate. She could feel the cat scrambling around in the small confines when she picked it up. “You take care of yourself and your mom, okay, Gonzo?”

  He pushed to his feet and nodded. He was clutching the sailing camp brochure in one hand and the ten in his other. “See ya.” He disappeared into his apartment.

  She blew out a breath. She was surprised to realize how much she was going to miss him. Ear-splitting music and all.

  She went back into her apartment. It was so small that she really could see if she’d forgotten anything in one single glance. But she walked around the perimeter anyway. “Remember when we first came here, Marsha?” She lifted the crate and looked in on her cat. “I think it took you a week before you came out from under the couch.”

  The cat eyed her and meowed plaintively.

  “Sounds like she does not like her crate.”

  Shea whirled to see Beatrice standing in the open doorway and took an instinctive step toward her. “What’s wrong? Is Pax okay?”

  Beatrice’s eyebrows shot up. She waved her hands as she came through the door. “Relax. Nothing’s wrong. Pax is fine. He asked me to come over and be with you since he couldn’t.” She pushed up the sleeves of her skinny black turtleneck and smiled. “But I can see I’m a little late.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “Duh. Because he didn’t want you to be alone.” Beatrice’s eyes were full of good humor.

  Shea blinked rapidly, but it didn’t help. She still felt weepy. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she told Beatrice, trying for wry and missing by a mile. “Every time I turn around, I’m—”

  “Pregnant,” Beatrice inser
ted. She dropped her purse on the breakfast bar and wrapped her arms around Shea’s shoulders, giving her a hug. “Hormones, sweetie. I hear they can be a bitch.”

  “I don’t even know why I’m going to miss this place. The walls are too thin, and the plumbing—” She laughed brokenly. “Well, it hardly bears thinking about. It was a crapshack, but it was my crapshack.”

  Beatrice gave her another squeeze, then pulled back. “Frankly, I’d be crying if I were moving in with Pax.” She gave a mock shudder. “Happier living with Grammy and Granddad. Let me carry that for you.” She took the crate without waiting and lifted it until she could see inside. “Hooch is going to love you, kitty.”

  Shea went into the kitchen and tore off a paper towel from the roll she’d left there and wiped her face.

  “Mom is going to meet us at Pax’s with lunch,” Beatrice said. She looked over at Shea. “Hope that’s all right with you. She’s dumping off cake from the reception last night on any and all takers.”

  What could Shea possibly say? “That cake was pretty delicious.”

  Beatrice’s eyes twinkled. If she knew how uneasy Shea felt, she hid it well. “I figure it’s worth an extra spin class or two.” She stepped out into the hall and waited while Shea locked the door behind them, then they walked down the hall to the elevator.

  Inside, Shea punched the button for the ground floor. “I could probably count on one hand the number of times this elevator has worked since I moved in.”

  “Pax mentioned he talked to the building super about it.”

  The elevator pinged, but Shea barely heard. She stared at Beatrice. “Pax had something to do with this thing getting fixed?”

  Beatrice made a face and adjusted her grip on the cat carrier. “I’m guessing I’ve said something he didn’t want me saying.” The elevator doors slid open and she stepped out. “You didn’t know.”

  “No,” she said faintly.

  Joey, the head mover, was waiting there for her and shoved a clipboard and pen in front of her as soon as she stepped off the elevator after Beatrice. She scratched her signature at the bottom of the smudged paper and handed him back his pen. “Thanks.”