Blame It on Chocolate

Russell mouthed, “Who in God’s name is that? Your dad?” and she yelled back cheerfully, “It’s Russ, Dad, just come for a visit.”

“Well, tell him to come on in.”

Russell whispered, “I can’t.”

She said, “You’re going to have to now. Come on. I’ll get you something to eat. Take off your jacket.”

“I only wanted to talk to you. I don’t want anyone else to know about this,” he said desperately.

“And we won’t be talking about this in front of my dad. But right now, there’s no way to pretend you’re not here.” She would have thought she was stating the obvious, but Russ still had to be herded into the living room.

“So, I’ll bet the girls are really chasing you, huh, Russ?” was the first thing her father said, making her wince—but it was typical family teasing. Girls had adored Russ from grade school on, and as far as Lucy knew, he’d adored them just as likewise. She had no idea when the gay question had started troubling him, but soon enough could see that discussion was going no further—not tonight.

Her dad immediately perked up for the company. At some point he miraculously found the beer at the back of her refrigerator, and a short time later Russell came back from the kitchen with her one and only partial bottle of wine. She raised a serious protest about his drinking and driving, but her father readily settled that by insisting that Russ could spend the night.

She made up the second twin in the spare bedroom, blinked a bleary-eyed good-night to them both around eleven, and crashed in her bedroom. Literally crashed. She pushed off her shoes and dove, head-first, for the lilac-flowered duvet cover. Between the feather bed and down comforter, her bed was conceivably the softest thing in the universe. So soft that she determined that she was never moving. Ever again. Even for a minute. Even for a second.

She’d never gone to bed in her clothes—it was unthinkable—but honest to Pete, she couldn’t move. For the first time all day, she felt…safe. Part of the feeling came from being cocooned in all the soft, luxurious down bedding. And part of it came from the purple. She’d really hard-core nested with color in here. The fake Tiffany lamp was lavender, the carpet a pale lilac. The old brass bedstead definitely wasn’t purple but she’d found it thrown out in an alley, brought it home, and buffed it within an inch of its life. The dark purple satin sheets, the swoop of dark purple drapes…for a woman who dug in dirt most days, the room was an unabashed female hideaway. Exactly what she craved.

She’d had more than enough stress today. She’d think about everything tomorrow, but for right now she just needed…

The telephone rang.

Of course her dad could have answered it. Or Russell.

But when the receiver next to her bed rang again, it was obvious no one else was going to pick it up. And it could have been her mother. Or Ginger. Or something wrong at the lab or greenhouse…worry built up so fast and thick in her throat that she grabbed the phone and then almost dropped it.

“I’ll be back in town tomorrow, Lucy,” Nick said, “but I had to know what the doctor said. Are you all right?”

That voice. It made her think of dark chocolate, but not just dark chocolate…a dark chocolate mint with brandy inside, or maybe with a little vanilla mascarpone filling in there, too. It was a voice that flowed into a woman’s mind and seeped into her fantasies. It was a voice that tended to make bone tissue turn liquid. It was a voice with so much pure lusty male vibration to it that it could probably make a puppy puddle.

“Lucy?” Nick repeated. “Are you all right?”

“There’s no ulcer, no tumor, nothing terrible. Thanks for calling, Nick. And thanks for arranging for me to get into a doctor so quickly. Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She hung up.

Then unplugged the phone. Thank God there were still some land lines left in this world.

NICK BARELY STEPPED out of the car before the front door opened. Out bounded Baby and Boo Boo, accompanied by his niece.

“Hey, Uncle Nick! Bet you didn’t expect to see me, huh?” Gretchen had turned twelve a few weeks ago. Nick had figured out that was some monumental thing to her because she’d changed her whole style of clothes, but what that all meant completely eluded him. This morning she had on a down jacket over a corduroy shirt that showed her skinny tummy—and here it was, freezing like a banshee outside. She was so gawky, all hair and big eyes and knees, so shy she could make herself sick in public situations. But not with him. She adored him almost—almost—as much as he adored her.

“Hey, shorty. What’s this, you’re already skipping school at your young age?” He pulled her into a hug, loving the smile she beamed up at him. She was smaller than the dogs. Although God knew, almost everyone was smaller than the dogs.

“Nah. There was a teacher in-service day. So I had it free. And I’m supposed to be at Dad’s this week, but he’s busy and he and Mom are fighting anyway, you know? So…I thought I’d come out and see Gramps and you.”

Nick couldn’t kick his big brother from here to the South Pole, but often enough, it was tempting. Clint and Gretchen’s mother had never gotten married, thank God, but they still couldn’t seem to resist fighting in front of the kid all the time. It killed him. The squirt likely wouldn’t be half so painfully shy and misfit-y if somebody was around to actively parent her.

“Can I hang with you?” Gretchen asked.

“Hmmm…” He had to talk to Lucy this morning. Immediately. It wouldn’t wait—not after hearing her voice last night—not if he was going to keep his sanity. The rest of his work, he could either shuffle or make-happen around a few hours with Gretchen. He’d done it in the past. “I need to have a half hour with Lucy at the lab. Alone. A real serious meeting.”

“Oh. Okay.” Her face fell five feet. “I understand.”

He could tell she did. He could tell she’d had to understand too damn many things, too damn many times, for a twelve-year-old. “How about this for a plan? We can walk over together. You can hang with Reiko or Fritz or Fred. Or just wander around. In fact, you could help make sure I get that time alone with Lucy. We’ll get our meeting over a whole lot faster if we aren’t interrupted by anyone.”

“I could do that! I’ll make sure nobody interrupts you!”

“And then we’ll do the day. I still have some work, but you can hang. Have to go over to the plant—but you’ll love that anyway. And I’ll finish what I have to and then we’ll split, okay? You bring your fiddle?”

“Uncle Nick! I play the flute, you know that!”

“Yeah, I know. And you’re so good I was thinking maybe you could play for me a little later, huh?”

“You don’t really want me to.”

Damn kid never thought anyone wanted to be with her. “Yeah, I do. Give me a second to pick something up from the house…and then we’ll walk to the labs with the dogs, okay?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

Okay. So walking with a twelve-year-old kid wasn’t exactly a great way to get his psyche prepared for the talk with Lucy. But he usually had a gift for multitasking. Hell, he’d just traveled from Paris to Berne and back, did some moving and shaking to get the construction on the new greenhouses started, contacted security people, initiated a new contract with their Berne people—and that was just the last two days. Surely he could handle a reasonable discussion with a twenty-eight-year-old woman?

“So Uncle Nick…then Uncle Nick…and after that, we like…”

Gretchen, God love her, treated him like a hero. Sometimes, like this morning, it made him feel lower than pond scum. He adored her. He’d adopt her if there was ever a need. But he wasn’t the kind of hero she wanted him to be. If the world were the right kind of place, she’d have a dad who’d earned that kind of respect, and a ton of other role models who could do a better job than him.

But right now she was chattering nonstop, at least until they reached the doors to the lab. She quieted instantly, doing her shy thing. The dogs, by contrast, howled as if someone were killing them because of being left outside.

The place was as deserted as a carnival in the rain, no sign of life in any of the offices. All the noise and action emanated from the communal lab, where the whole staff clustered, bustling around some fresh chocolate tests. Reiko and Fred and Fritz called out welcoming hellos to both him and Gretchen. So did Lucy.

But he saw what she tried to pull off. She took one look, startled when she saw him, beamed out a cheerful hello and dove for the side door.

He caught up with her midflight, with what he hoped was an unobtrusive hand plucking her shirt-tail. “We’ll be in Lucy’s office for a few minutes, everyone. You okay, Gretchen?”

“Sure,” she said, which was what Gretchen always said, but in this case, Reiko was already inviting her to try the new chocolate. The kid’d be okay.

Lucy would probably be okay, too.

Whether he was going to be okay was the real question. Because one look at her face and he knew this was going to go bad. Very bad. Maybe very, very bad.

As soon as they were out of sight, she said, “I know, I know, we didn’t finish our Bliss project discussion the other day—”

“No, we didn’t. And we need to get that done damn quick. But that’s not all we have to discuss right now.”

“What?” At the door to her office, she moved in first, quickly, as if allergic to being that close to him. He’d felt the startled tremor streak her spine when he’d touched the back of her shirt. And now she didn’t hide behind the desk, but she moved as far as the windowsill, where she could lean, arms under her chest, chin up…as if she were braced for a blow.

He latched the door and leaned there, giving her some space, but for damn sure blocking the exit. “So,” he said gently, “you’re pregnant.”

“Huh?” She shook her head as if disbelieving such an incomprehensible ridiculous statement.