Not Precisely Pregnant Page 9

  She put the entire bag of food in the refrigerator, shut the door and turned—and bumped into him. "Sorry."

  "I'm not." He took her into his arms and kissed her again, hard and probing. He broke off the kiss and asked, "Which way?"

  "It's down the hall, first door on the left."

  He swept her into his arms.

  "Riley, you don't have to carry me," she protested.

  "I want to."

  "But I'm heavy."

  "I've held you before. That day I thought you were delivering a baby. You aren't, and weren't too much for me to handle. As a matter of fact, I worried then that you didn't weigh enough."

  "I don't think I've ever worried about not weighing enough."

  "You're perfect."

  "And this, this will be perfect," Paige said, as they entered her bedroom.

  7

  PAIGE WATCHED THE MAN sleeping at her side. She ached to touch him, but didn't want to disturb his sleep. He looked peaceful lying there next to her.

  She thought about what he'd told her of his father, and her heart bled for the little boy he'd been. But she stared at the man he'd become.

  Riley was good-looking. As annoyed as she'd been that first date, she'd never denied that. But now, having glimpsed at least a part of what was behind his facade, he was absolutely gorgeous to her.

  He'd touched her tonight. Oh, he'd touched her in quite a physical way, she thought as the memories heated her body. But he'd connected with her on a deeper level as well. He'd opened himself to her and shared something true and intimate.

  She reached out and traced a line down the length of his arm, ready to wake him up and try to show him how much she was feeling—though she really couldn't sort out the feelings.

  Maybe couldn't wasn't the right word. Wouldn't. She didn't want to delve any further than she'd already delved. She just wanted him and to at least show him physically that this meant something.

  This time she gently ran her hand down his back and he turned to offer her a lazy, satisfied smile.

  "I—" She started, but was interrupted.

  A loud thump in the living room stopped her. Strange scuffling noises followed.

  "What the heck?" she whispered as she slid out of the bed.

  Riley tried to untangle himself from the sheet as he hollered, "Hey, don't open the door. You don't know what's out there. Let me—"

  But it was too late. Paige opened the bedroom door, and it was as if a Tasmanian devil had been admitted. Or rather two Tasmanian devils.

  "What the—" Riley exclaimed as the whirling mass of fur ran toward, then jumped on, the bed.

  Pugsley and Cuddles had obviously met and the meeting was no more successful than Riley and Paige's first date. The big bruiser of a cat, who recently had become more gentle, wasn't very gentle at the moment. He was swiping his paw at the poor dog, who had crawled on Riley's lap for some measure of protection.

  "Paige, get that killer cat out of here," Riley shouted, trying to protect the animal from the whacking cat.

  She couldn't help laughing at Riley as she walked to the bed, and scooped up the still-hissing Cuddles. "Now, what's all this about? Where are your manners?"

  She sat and held the cat up to the poor whimpering dog. "Cuddles, this is Pugsley. Pugsley, Cuddles. I want you two to play nice."

  The dog sniffed at the cat, and the cat completely ignored the dog as Paige stroked his head. She set Cuddles on the floor. "Now, go on and get to know each other."

  Cuddles walked out of the room, his head and tail held high. Paige picked up Pugsley and scooted him toward the door as well. "Go lie down somewhere."

  She shut the door. "Well, that will get the blood pumping. I thought someone was committing murder out there."

  "I'm not thinking about murder now, though my blood is certainly pumping." Now that it was safe and he no longer had to protect himself from attack, Riley sprawled on the bed and wiggled his eyebrows at her.

  "Why, Mr. Calhoon, what could you be thinking of?" Paige asked, laughter in her voice.

  "Come back to bed and I'll show you."

  She walked toward the bed and asked, "Is it a surprise?"

  "Yeah."

  "A big surprise? I do like big surprises."

  "The biggest," he promised.

  Paige launched herself onto the bed and pulled back the covers, studying her surprise. "Why, look at that, it is the biggest. Do you suppose you could help me with it?"

  "Oh, I suppose that could be arranged," he said, as he willingly obliged her.

  RILEY WOKE UP with Paige in his arms. She was still sound asleep, and so he had time to study her. She wasn't beautiful, at least not in a classic sense. Her features were rather ordinary at the moment—relaxed in sleep. But he knew that what was ordinary in her sleep was extraordinary when she smiled. And since she was always smiling, Riley doubted anyone ever noticed that she wasn't precisely beautiful.

  Her short hair was sort of all pushed toward the top of her head in an almost Mohawk sort of look. Whatever little makeup she'd had on yesterday was reduced to dark smudges under her eyes.

  No, maybe she wasn't exactly beautiful.

  But right this moment, wrapped in his arms, her body pressed against his, Riley had never seen anything as lovely.

  He wasn't sure how long he lay there, just watching her breathe in and out. But he saw her eyelids start to flutter and suddenly snap open.

  "Riley, you're still here?"

  He wasn't sure if it was a statement or a question, if she was happy or annoyed to find him in her bed. But as she snuggled even closer to his warmth, he figured she couldn't be too annoyed.

  He wanted to tell her he'd never spent a night, an entire night, with anyone. That this was something special, though he wasn't sure quite what. He wanted to tell her that he thought he liked waking up next to her.

  Instead of saying any of that, he said, "I've got to go home and change for work."

  She backed away from his embrace and simply said, "Okay."

  Riley sat up. "About last night—"

  "Riley, please don't worry. I'm not some virginal woman waiting for you to offer some apology for ruining me. I rather enjoyed being ruined by you, truth be told. Really, really enjoyed. But I'm not reading anything more into it than a fluke. A fantastic fluke."

  He shook his head. "That's not what I wanted to say. Paige, I know I said this was just a one-time thing. . . ." He hesitated a moment, trying to think about how to continue. "Um, you know it occurs to me that we never did settle the interview business."

  Slowly, a smile spread across her face. And for a moment, all the oxygen rushed from Riley's body. She was so absolutely beautiful at that moment.

  "You're right," she said. "We didn't resolve any of our interview dilemmas."

  "Right. The interview has caused so many problems. I hate to leave the question of do we or don't we hanging over us. So maybe. . ." Riley took a big breath and said, "Maybe I should come over tonight after work and we could discuss it again."

  "Well, that might be best." She nodded solemnly, but the grin on her face spoiled the effect. "I mean, we can't really leave the question of an interview hanging, now can we?"

  "What if I brought dinner. Pizza?"

  "With mushrooms?" she asked.

  "With anything you want."

  "Anything?" Her voice was tinged with suggestion.

  He grinned, relief flooding his system. He was going to see her again tonight.

  "Anything," he promised.

  "I'll hold you to that tonight," she said, and shut the door.

  Riley Calhoon whistled as he walked down the hall.

  8

  ''YOU LOOK LIKE THE CAT that ate the canary,'' Aunt Annabelle said the following week as she and Paige played a cutthroat game of war.

  "Do I?" Paige turned over a king and took Annabelle's queen.

  It had been one glorious week of Riley.

  Eating dinners together, walking Pugsley together, tal
king about their day at work, doing dishes, and then spending the night—the whole night—exploring each other's bodies. Learning what pleased and what thrilled.

  In the past week Paige had experienced sensations that she'd never imagined existed. And maybe they couldn't. . .not without Riley.

  Somehow over the last few days, he'd become part of her life. Just what part he'd play in the future she'd yet to discover, but for now, what they had was wonderful.

  "More than a canary," Aunt Annabelle said as she scooped up Paige's ten with an ace.

  She realized her aunt was studying her and she tried to wipe the thought of Riley out of her head.

  "You look as if you've swallowed an ostrich, or something even bigger. So what did you do now? Land a regular anchor position?"

  "No. Though the powers-that-be were pleased enough with my performance, despite the orange hair, to tell me they'd ask me to fill in again."

  "So what else could have you looking so—" Annabelle suddenly grinned and gave a little whoop. "War!"

  They'd both thrown down twos and then slapped cards on top of them.

  "I won!" Annabelle announced as she scooped up the pile with another ace.

  "What I'd like to know is how you always seem to have all the aces," Paige said.

  "Not all," Annabelle said with a grin. "You've obviously been holding back a few aces of your own."

  "What do you mean?" Paige asked.

  "I mean, you've finally done it. You've found a man. Wait till I tell the girls. We've been worried about you. A career is all well and good, but a career and a man is even better."

  Cards forgotten, Paige knew she was caught, and admitted with a grin, "Oh, he's better all right."

  Remembering just last night and how much better each time got. And it wasn't so much the physical end of things, though that got better, too. It was the emotional side.

  She thought Riley was really opening up to her.

  He'd told her about his father, told her about his childhood. Just little snippets here and there, and she'd been able to piece together the rest. A smart, sensitive boy raised by a tough, suck-it-up sort of father.

  Riley came by his tough-guy image honestly. But beneath that, the sensitive side still thrived. Quietly. Secretly. But if you knew where to look, it was there.

  Every time he visited Aunt Annabelle. Every time he took Zac somewhere, patted Pugsley, rescued a damsel in distress—every time his veneer cracked and she could see the sensitive side that he tried so hard to hide.

  "How long have you been seeing this man?" Annabelle asked.

  Paige shook off her Riley ruminations and asked, "Seriously seeing him?"

  Aunt Annabelle nodded without saying anything. She'd obviously forgotten so she just waited, studying Paige.

  Feeling rather like a bug under a microscope, Paige said, "A week."

  "And?" Annabelle prompted.

  "And that's it. I've been seeing a guy in a rather serious manner for about a week."

  "I assume serious can be equated with sleeping with."

  Before Paige could sputter an embarrassed response, Annabelle continued, "Good for you. You've needed a man in your life, and more specifically, a man in your bed for a while now. You should have someone to put a blush on those cheeks."

  Paige thought of the wonderful things Riley had done to her last night, of the things she'd done to him and knew there was more than a little bit of color staining her cheeks.

  "So are you going to tell me who it is, or do I have to guess?" Annabelle asked.

  Paige chuckled. "You'd never guess."

  "Bet I can get it in three guesses."

  "You're on. We'll play for ice cream. Loser treats."

  "Deal." Annabelle paused a moment and said, "Jerry, that guy you interviewed a few weeks ago?"

  "No."

  Jerry? He was a nice enough guy, and maybe a hero in his own right. After all, he'd caught the guy that had stolen a lady's purse. Though he couldn't hold a candle to Riley.

  No way was Annabelle going to guess.

  "That Steve guy. You know, the waiter."

  "He's not a waiter. He owns the restaurant, and no."

  Steve was nice, too. He opened his downtown restaurant to the homeless in October every year. He said there were so many hungry people who were fed on Thanksgiving and at Christmas that he wanted to make the month of October his. The Saturday before Halloween every year, he served meals free of charge.

  Yeah, Steve was a nice guy, but he wasn't Riley Calhoon.

  As if she could read Paige's mind, Aunt Annabelle blurted out, "Riley."

  "You knew all the time," Paige accused.

  The look on her aunt's face answered the question before Annabelle could respond. "Of course I did. After all, have you ever known me to make a bet when I haven't first stacked the odds?"

  "No. So what kind of ice cream do you want?"

  "Forget the ice cream. I just want you to be happy. Be very, very happy."

  "I hope to be. I don't know where this is going, but right now, I'm enjoying it immensely."

  "I'M ENJOYING THIS," Paige said that evening, echoing Riley's thoughts.

  He was enjoying this as well.

  This was nothing special. They'd had a quiet, early dinner at Joe Roots, a popular restaurant at the base of the peninsula. And now they were bundled up against the cold October wind and walking along the beach.

  At least it would be nothing special except for the woman at his side.

  "Me too," he finally said. Oh, he was the king of articulate tonight.

  There was so much he wanted to say to Paige, but he didn't quite know how to get all the words out. After worrying about saying too much, worries about not being able to say enough seemed incongruous. But the dark beach made the long silences easier. Quiet seemed expected here.

  He reached out and took her hand.

  There. He was having trouble getting the words out, but surely she'd understand that he was telling her how special tonight was, how special every night for the last week had been with her.

  Because of her.

  The fall moon was big, bright and full, casting enough light that they could see clearly. They stopped and stood quietly looking out on the lake.

  "The moon sends a little ripple of light across the water," he said without thinking. "Almost like a bridge, daring you, begging you to walk across it."

  "That's poetic, Riley."

  Realizing she'd called him Riley rather than Calhoon, and that she was right, it was almost poetic, Riley got an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach.

  When he was around Paige he found himself saying things, doing things, even thinking things that were disconcerting at the least.

  "It's time to go," he said, hoping to cover the confusion he was feeling. "We're not supposed to be on the beach after dark."

  "Oh, we're such wild lawbreakers, aren't we? Well, if we're going to break the law, let's really break it. Let's go skinny-dipping." She laughed. It was like the sound of rain hitting the sun-warmed concrete in spring—warm and inviting. Contagious.

  "You've got to be kidding," he said, trying to sound stern but suspecting his smile ruined the effect. "It's freezing out. I swear, it's cold enough to snow."

  "Actually, it hit the sixties today. And the lake is still warm. The water won't be that bad. Come on, Calhoon. Let's go."

  "You're insane."

  "You're the one spouting off about ripples begging you to walk on them. Let's be daring."

  "Oh, I can just see the headlines now. Prominent Reporters Bare All. Come on, Paige, let's go."

  And yet, he knew if she pressed the issue, he'd jump in the lake even if it was frozen solid. All she had to do was ask and he'd try anything, just to see her smile, to hear that laugh.

  She unzipped her jacket. "So what're you going to do, Calhoon, arrest me?"

  "Paige," he said, trying to infuse a warning in his voice to hopefully cover the laughter that he could feel bubbling around.
>
  "Handcuff me? Is that what you enjoy, Calhoon, handcuffing women?" She took off her jacket.

  "No, that's not what I meant, and you know it. It's just time to go."

  She shrugged her jacket back on and grinned. "You've got no sense of adventure, Calhoon. You're lucky I came along to liven things up or you'd start sinking into middle-aged stodginess and become so mired in it nothing could rescue you."

  "Keep walking while you're talking, Paige. I want to get you off this beach before you start stripping again. Let's go."

  "When you say go, do you mean both of us go home, as in our own personal spaces?"

  "I'd hoped you'd invite me to your apartment."

  "Nope."

  He made out the little shake of her head.

  "Not tonight. But I could come to your place. I mean, you've been to my place every night this week. You've never had me over to your house."

  "Why do you want to come to my house?" he asked.

  "Where you live reveals details about you. Maybe I just want to know everything about you that I possibly can."

  "Why?"

  "Because maybe I. . ."

  "You what?" he prompted.

  In the moonlight he could see a certain seriousness in her face as she said, "Maybe I lo—"

  A floodlight hit her right in the face and seriousness was replaced by surprise. "This is a park ranger. What are you two doing on the beach? The park closes after sunset."

  "We were just heading back," Riley said.

  "He's taking me to his house to ravage me," Paige said, seriousness and surprise having given way to silliness.

  "Paige," Riley warned.

  "He's sort of dictorial, but he's good at ravaging." Paige patted his arm. "Only he's never ravaged me at his house. I've never seen it. He's been to my place a number of times. That's not right, is it? I mean we should alternate or something."

  "I like my privacy," Riley grumbled.

  "You know, she has a point," the ranger said.

  "See, I have a point," she said with a grin.

  "A pointy little head," he muttered. "Come on, we're going."

  "If we're not going to your place, then I'm going on strike." She sat on the sand and folded her arms and legs.

  "Paige, you're being childish," Riley said. The ranger safely watched the situation from behind his spotlight. Riley didn't have to see him to know he was probably laughing.