About Last Night...

“Ho Ho’s?” Shane remarked as he entered the office. “You’ve become quite the junk-food nut this past week. First M&M’s and now Ho Ho’s. What did you eat for lunch?”

“Caesar salad.”

“Impressive. Where’s your trademark banana?”

“I finished that earlier.” Lindy looked up. As always, Shane was dressed in a polo shirt and jeans. “Is there something you need?”

“Yes. I need concert tickets and dinner reservations.” He rattled off a name and a date at her and hastily Lindy wrote it on her scratch pad.

“How many?”

“Two. I’m taking Cathy Barnes.”

Lindy looked up sharply. Having arrived in St. Louis a month ago, blond bombshell Cathy Barnes was the new gossip and sex-help columnist for one of St. Louis’s alternative dailies. She also hosted a call-in radio talk show—and was set on being Mrs. Shane Jacobsen. Lindy had immediately hated her. “Is this a date?”

Shane looked up from the mail he was going through. “So what if it is?”

Lindy placed her hands carefully on the desk, gripping the edges of the cherry-wood surface for support. “Organizing your dates is no longer in my job description.”

“And how is that different than if I was taking out a client?”

“You don’t have any clients.”

“Foundation people then,” Shane argued. His jaw set stubbornly. “When did you get so difficult?”

She ignored that. “Take it or leave it. At least your grandfather treats me like a professional and not a personal slave. I am not getting you concert tickets so that you can go out with Cathy Barnes. She’s a snake.”

Shane’s face creased in surprise. “What is with you? If I didn’t know you so well, I’d say you were jealous.”

Lindy flattened her palms against the smooth surface of the desk, in an attempt to regain some self-control. Jealous? Always. But she’d learned to live with it. Until she’d slept with Shane Jacobsen. Now the thought of him being with anyone else, especially after her, was unbearable. She trembled. Just two more weeks and she would be free of him, and hopefully able to put the green-eyed jealousy monster behind her.

“No.” She stared at him, a sudden courage evident in her eyes. After all, what could he do? Fire her? She already had a new job.

Shane finally blinked, his expression telling her he didn’t understand, or like, the situation at all. “Fine. You don’t have to get involved. I’ll handle it myself.”

“Thank you.”

“Sure.” Shane watched as Lindy turned back to her computer keyboard. Just what was up with her now? She was so unlike Lindy. The old Lindy never refused him anything, or ate junk food. Or looked so pale.

He didn’t have time to think about it because just then an overseas call came through. But he did think about it an hour later when he decided not to call about the concert tickets. No, without Lindy running interference, his dating life was about to go down the tubes.

He leaned back in his desk chair and studied her for a moment. He probably needed a break from the singles scene anyway. Ever since Easter, Grandpa Joe had been sending e-mails about women he thought Shane should meet. Shane had refused to even acknowledge that he’d received the correspondence.

“I need to take this to the post office,” Lindy said. She stood up. “Is there anything else you need?”

“No.” And then he understood. He’d been right. Something was wrong. He knew it instinctively, and his instinct had never failed him. “Lindy? Are you okay?”

“I’m—” Lindy put a hand to her mouth, turned and made a run for it. Shane followed her to the bathroom and pressed his head against the closed door. The sounds coming from inside told him all he needed to know.

“I’m calling a doctor.”

“I’m fine!”

Shane smiled despite himself. She was so stubborn. “You’re hacking up a lung.”

“And you’re a hypochondriac. Really, I—” She stopped, overcome by another bout of nausea.

Shane grimaced. Lindy really was sick. He’d been right to trust his instincts. After all, it was his intuition that had made him millions on the stock market, and freed him from his beloved Grandpa Joe’s tentacles.

To give Lindy some privacy, Shane went in search of his cell phone and dialed his sister. “Hey, Bethany.”

“Shane. What’s up? You caught me right between patients.”

“Lindy’s sick. She’s throwing up in my bathroom. Maybe I’m paranoid, but you know what happened to Dan. I’d better be safe than sorry.”

“Yes, I remember. Hold that file a minute, Marge, it’s my brother. Okay, I’m back. What are her symptoms?”

Shane paused. “She looks pale. She’s not been eating right. She’s throwing up.”

“Does she have a fever?”

Did she? Shane frowned. “I don’t think so. But her nose is very congested.”

He heard Bethany sigh. “She’s probably got a virus, Shane. It sounds like she just needs some rest. Tell her to take some decongestants for the stuffy nose and if she has a fever tell her to take two acetaminophen tablets every four hours. If she’s not better in another twenty-four hours, or if she runs a fever, she needs to see her doctor.”

Shane frowned. “That’s it?”

His sister sounded busy. “Yes, unless she’s pregnant.”

“She’s not pregnant.”

“Then she’s got a virus. Call me later if you need to, but right now I’ve got to go because I’m way off schedule.”

“Thanks.” Shane set the phone down and walked back to the bathroom door. “Lindy? Are you all right?” He heard the telltale flushing and then the sound of water running in the sink.

“I’m fine,” Lindy finally called. “I think it was the salad. The dressing must have had a lot of egg in it. You know I’m allergic to eggs in large amounts.”

“Bethany says you probably have a virus. You need to rest and take acetaminophen.”

Lindy opened the door. She looked even paler, if that were possible. Shane was really concerned now. He stepped aside to let her leave the bathroom.

“Maybe it’s the yearly allergy thing I always get,” she said. “Just a different variation this time.”

“Or you could be pregnant.”

HE MEANT IT as a joke to cheer her up, to lighten the moment. She could see the good intentions written all over his face. But his joke wasn’t funny. Could she be pregnant? Fear filled her. Had Shane used a condom? She couldn’t remember. No. She couldn’t be pregnant. Fate couldn’t be so cruel. Sure, she wanted children, but not now. Not like this.

“I’m not pregnant,” Lindy said, but doubt crept into her mind and took root. After all, she was late. But her cycle being late was nothing new. Not every woman’s cycle ran like clockwork, and Lindy was often as much as fifteen days late. She gave Shane a reassuring smile, although her mind was hardly reassured. “Stop being worried. I’m fine now. I’m sure it was just the egg in the Caesar salad.”