A Little Bit Pregnant

“She’s hell on wheels,” Zane told Al. “Trust me—I’ve been run over.”

She smiled at him. “Only when you’re getting on my nerves.” She turned back to Al. “I can walk with braces and a walker, I choose not to. A wheelchair beats the step-drag thing in my book.”

Al didn’t look convinced but he nodded. “If I can change your mind,” he said.

“You can’t.”

She changed the subject to how his oldest daughter was doing at college. When Al was called away to look after his other guests, Zane touched her arm.

“Are you okay with him interfering?”

“Sure. He’s doing it because he cares about me.” She smiled. “I like that in a man.”

Zane had always admired Nicki’s courage and temperament. He found himself wanting to say that he cared, too.

“If he brings it up again, I’ll go into more detail,” she said. “Al sees me now, years after the accident. But if he’d been around when it happened, he would understand how far I’ve come.”

She sipped her champagne. “Back then I would have agreed with him. I was determined to walk again, no matter how difficult it was or how much it hurt. When my parents bought me my first wheelchair, I saw it as a defeat. No way I was going to give in. Then one day I sat in it and I was amazed at how lightweight it was and how easily I could move around. Once I figured out I could outrun anyone and be involved in sports, I never looked back.”

Typical, he thought proudly. Nicki wasn’t a quitter. “Do you still have braces?”

“Sure, but I rarely use them. A friend from college got married and I was a bridesmaid. I used the braces so I could stand up with the rest of the wedding party, but I didn’t try walking down the aisle in them. Back in high school and college I would take them to dances so I could shuffle around the floor with my date.” She grinned. “Sometimes I let the guys take them off. That always got them really excited.”

Young men unbuckling cool metal from her smooth, warm thighs? He could understand the attraction.

He pretended shock. “You let them feel you up?”

“Of course.”

“Did your mother know?”

She rolled her eyes. “Someone with your dating history is in no position to be judgmental. Besides, my prom date didn’t get much more than a quick feel. I’m guessing your prom date offered you a chance to score.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t go to my prom. I was in a high school boot camp, paying my debt to society.”

“You’re kidding? What had you done?”

He shrugged. “Got caught in stolen truck with a few dozen TVs that didn’t belong to me.”

“No way.”

“I was a wild kid.”

She leaned close. “Okay, start at the beginning and talk slowly. I want details.”

“No way.” He held up his glass. “I’d have to be a whole lot more drunk than this to spill that story.”

She raised her arm to flag a waiter. He caught her hand and pulled it down.

“I’m driving, Nicki. One’s my limit.”

“How annoying. I’m going to have to lure you to my place then, with plans to get you drunk and worm the truth out of you.”

He considered all the possibilities that went along with that and knew he should back off. Nicki was a friend—he didn’t want that to change. Still he found himself agreeing to her plan, and anticipating the event.

Chapter Four

“You’re going to have to invite me in,” Zane said as he pulled up in front of Nicki’s house.

Refusing to give in to the sudden fluttering in her chest, Nicki pretended a casualness that she didn’t feel. “And that reason would be what?”

He grinned. In the dimness of the SUV, the only light came from the streetlamp. She was able to see the outline of Zane’s face and the flash of his white teeth.

“You promised to get me drunk. Besides, it’s barely ten-thirty. I have a reputation to think of. What would my neighbors say if I pulled in this early on a Friday night?”

“Of course,” she murmured. “Your reputation.”

There was no reason to refuse his request, she thought humorously. He didn’t know about her out-of-control hormones. Nor was he likely to feel trapped if she had a brain hiccup and suddenly made a pass at him. No, the worst that could happen would be unfulfilled expectations on her part and Lord knew she’d been living with those forever.

“Far be it from me to ruin your stellar reputation,” she said easily. “Come on in.”

He turned off the engine and pocketed the keys. After collecting her wheelchair from the rear, he brought it around to the passenger side and locked the wheels. Then he opened her door and scooped her into his arms.

“Great perfume,” he said as he settled her onto the chair’s seat.

She could say the same thing except she knew Zane wasn’t wearing a scent. That delicious fragrance she inhaled whenever they were close was nothing more than the man himself.

“Want a drink?” she asked when they were in the one-story house.

“Nothing alcoholic.”

She tossed her purse onto the narrow table by the front door and wheeled into the living room. “There’s an assortment of sodas and juices in the refrigerator. Help yourself.”

“You want anything?”

“No thanks.”

Zane sidetracked down the short hallway into the modified kitchen. She shifted restlessly in her chair, not sure what to do with herself. Or with him.

She glanced around at the clutter-free living room. She wasn’t neat by nature, but she’d long ago learned that dropping items on the floor meant maneuvering around them later. Rather than turning her life into an obstacle course, she’d learned to tidy as she went.

The pale green walls picked up color from the striped green sofa. She’d picked the scaled-down piece of furniture because the firm back and arms allowed her to brace herself when she moved from her chair to the sofa. She’d placed a tall table behind the couch, rather than in front, and used floor lamps for light. There weren’t any rugs to impede her progress, but she’d used prints, cushions and stackable tables to provide spots of color and warmth.

Zane returned from the kitchen with a can of soda in his hand. Instead of flopping down on the sofa, he crossed to her DVD collection and flipped through the movies.

“There’s not enough death here,” he complained as he held up a DVD with a picture of a couple on the front. “Too many chick flicks.”

“Maybe because I am a chick.”