A Little Bit Pregnant

Rob and Ted finished their workouts and left. Zane glanced at the timer on her bike’s program. “Your mom sent me cookies.”

“She mentioned she was going to.”

Nicki found a certain amount of irony in the fact that her parents were nearly as taken with Zane as she was. Maybe it was something genetic. A weakness in the Beauman family tree.

“So when are they coming up for a visit?” he asked.

“Probably not until the holidays. They’re taking off for a cruise in Australia and New Zealand at the end of the month. It’s fall here, but spring down under.”

“You need to have me over for dinner while they’re here. I like your folks.”

“Me, too.”

He grinned.

What the man could do to her with just a smile.

“Is their remodeling finished?” he asked.

“Just about. Mom promised the guest room would be done in time for my next visit.”

Nicki had been a change-of-life baby and a surprise for a couple who had given up hope of ever having a child. As such, she’d been doted on from birth. Despite their devotion, they’d been ready to retire as she finished college. They’d left Seattle for the sunny warmth of Tucson, which gave her a good excuse to flee the incessant rain every winter.

“Maybe I’ll swing down and visit them sometime,” he said.

“They’d like that.”

Her mother especially. While Muriel Beauman would have adored Zane for his own sake, she had a special place in her heart for him because of how he treated her daughter. When her parents had met Zane, her mother had made it a point to tell Nicki that he didn’t seem to notice she was in a wheelchair.

Nicki knew that was true. Zane’s acceptance was complete. Sometimes she consoled herself that his lack of interest in her had nothing to do with her problems with her legs. Nope, it was her pesky brain getting in the way.

The timer on her bike beeped. Nicki slowed, then stopped and wiped the sweat from her face. Her muscles were comfortably tired, but her workout was just beginning.

Still in the wheelchair, Zane moved next to the bike. “Climb on,” he said as he wrapped one arm around her waist.

She relaxed as he pulled her onto his lap and “drove” her to the weight machines clustered at the far end of the room. This was a familiar part of their routine—one she tried not to get excited about. Yeah, he had his arm around her. Yeah, it felt good. So what?

She slid from Zane’s lap to the bench. He locked the wheelchair in place and rose.

While she hooked up the elaborate pulley system that allowed her to strengthen her leg muscles without putting too much weight on them, he moved to the treadmill where he punched in his favorite program. The machine started at a warm-up pace that would send most people into cardiac arrest. Zane wouldn’t even begin breathing hard until mile three.

She might hate exercise, Nicki thought as she began the leg lifts designed by a physical therapist to keep her lower body toned and flexible, but there were compensations. One was a boss who’d had no problem adding a couple of pieces of equipment to the company gym so she could work out there as well. The other was watching Zane move.

Mirrors covered all four walls so wherever she turned, she saw front and back views of the man. The machine picked up the pace and he eased from a jog into a full-out run. Long, lean muscles bunched and released with nearly balletlike grace. Nicki mentally smacked herself upside the head and returned her attention to her own workout.

“Jeff and I are having a planning meeting later today,” Zane called to her. “Any preferences?”

Employees were often allowed to request assignments so those with families could stay close to home and those without could indulge their wanderlust.

“I’d like to winter in Hawaii,” Nicki told him.

He grinned. “I don’t think we have any clients there.”

“Then we should get some. Maybe a pro football player or a surfing champion.”

“Maybe a suntan lotion model.”

Nicki sniffed. “Not at all my style.”

She released the pulleys and turned so her legs hung off the bench. When she was in position, she began to work her upper body.

Strong muscles were essential for a number of reasons. Not only did they help her maneuver and stay fast in her chair, but well-toned arms burned more calories. She might be able to keep in shape with her workouts, but she didn’t have the ability to walk from place to place during the day. If she wasn’t careful to balance her exercise with her lifestyle, she could pile on five pounds in the time it took most people to sneeze. On her smallish frame, that was hardly attractive. So she did the exercise thing and told herself it was like taking a really sweaty vitamin.

Zane finished his five-mile run and stepped off the treadmill. As she shifted from the bench to her wheelchair, he nodded to the free weights and barbells.

“Want me to spot you on the chest press?” he asked.

Nicki eyed the equipment in question. Did she want to lay on a bench, Zane poised at her head, ready to rescue her if she got into trouble as she raised and lowered a too-heavy weight? The view was spectacular—she could see all of him from knee to chin—but it came at a price. Namely unfulfilled fantasies.

“I’ll pass,” she said as she headed for the women’s locker room and the showers. “But thanks.”

“No problem.”

He turned to the equipment and began his own weight training. Nicki didn’t want to stick around. She’d seen the show countless times. If only she could be like Zane, she thought as she rolled to her locker. If only she could be happy with them just being friends and never consider any other possibilities. If only he didn’t bother her so much.

She needed a plan. Or a program. Or an anti-Zane patch. Barring that, she had to find a way to clear her head. Boyd might not be the love of her life, but what if the next guy was? Would she miss her opportunity because she was hung up on Zane? Wouldn’t that be a tragedy?

She was going to have to find a way to lick this problem once and for all, even if it meant something as drastic as finding a new job.

“This client is interesting,” Jeff said as he tossed Zane a folder.

Zane picked it up and flipped through the pages. “An Italian banker?” He grinned. “Okay. I’ll take that one.”

Jeff didn’t look surprised. “You think you’re going to get a trip to Italy out of this.”

“Sure.”

Jeff shook his head and passed over two more folders. “Middle Eastern oil executives.”

“A whole lot less fun,” Zane muttered as he looked through their files. “Definitely more work.”

Although he wouldn’t mind a good distraction—maybe a kidnapping or hostage situation. He felt restless and on edge and he couldn’t say why.

“Westron has had a couple of nasty letters delivered to his house,” Jeff said. “He annoyed the wrong group of people.”

“Death threats?” Zane asked.

“Daily. He’s working with local police, but he wants us to come up with a plan to protect the family he has here in the States.”