Susan Mallery: A Little Bit Pregnant

“It’s okay, Boyd. Tonight is just a party. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’ll call you in a few days,” he said. “After the weekend.” He seemed to realize that most couples who were dating actually spent time together on weekends and quickly added, “I have to work.”

“I guessed that. It’s fine.”

More than fine, she thought sadly as she hung up. She didn’t feel regret or sadness or anything. For the past couple of weeks she’d been telling herself it was time to end things with Boyd. Whatever potential had been there had obviously been lost. This conversation told her it was past time to make a clean break.

“That’s the thing,” Zane said as he leaned toward her. “Guys like Brad just don’t appreciate women. Computer chips and binary code are more interesting. Crazy, but true.”

She closed her eyes and counted to ten. When that didn’t help, she opened her eyes and glared at him. “Boyd isn’t a programmer and he’s plenty interested in woman and—” She laughed. “Why on earth am I trying to convince you?”

“I have no idea. I don’t have a date, either. We can go together.”

Nicki told herself that the sudden flash of heat that zinged up her thighs was little more than the beginnings of some kind of rash. Or a food allergy. It wasn’t excitement about Zane’s offhand invitation. So he was between women. That happened all the time. Just as quickly, he would be involved again with a large-breasted, slow-witted beauty whose most challenging conversational gambit would be to discuss the various shades of teal that went with her eyes.

“I suppose I could hang out with you at the party,” she said with a casual deliberateness she didn’t come close to feeling. At this moment in time, her insides were practicing clog dancing.

“Hey, I’ll even pick you up,” he said.

She thought about his flashy two-seater sports car and grinned. “I think tying my wheelchair to your bumper and dragging it behind would be a really bad idea.”

“Don’t sweat the details, Nicki. I’ll take care of everything.” He rose and headed for the door. “I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear something sexy.”

“You’re not picking me up,” she called after him. “Don’t be silly. I’ll drive myself.”

He paused in the doorway and stared at her. “I never let my date drive herself.”

Her throat didn’t just get tight. No, first it twisted up like a spring. “D-date?”

“Uh-huh.”

He flashed her the kind of smile deigned to reduce her to a quivering mass. Damn the man—it worked.

“I’m going to show you all my best moves,” he said. “You’ll be impressed.”

Nicki watched him walk out of the room and had a really bad feeling that Zane was right. She was going to be impressed and where exactly would that leave her? The last thing she needed was to be more attracted to him.

Then she reminded herself she’d never been the sort of person to walk away from a challenge. Zane thought he could knock her socks off. Well, two could play at that game. He’d told her to wear something sexy. She could do that and then some. Maybe if she surprised him, she could get the upper hand for once. Of course what she would do with it once she had it was another question entirely.

Nicki stared into the full-length mirror and wondered if she was making a mistake. Yes, she wanted to impress Zane, but maybe she was going about it all wrong. She might be attractive and all that, but there was no way on earth her size-B breasts could compete in the major leagues. Zane dated women who were so top heavy they couldn’t walk straight.

She glanced from her reflection to her chest and back. In her closet was a black dress with a neckline that sank nearly to her navel. With some double stick tape and a very straight back, she could dazzle. But in a world of watermelons, who bothered with peaches? Maybe this choice was better. Simple, elegant and classy. Wasn’t that better than trying too hard?

Nicki wished desperately for a second opinion, but her mom was in another state and Ashley, Jeff’s wife, was busy getting herself ready. Besides, there wasn’t much her friend could tell her over the phone.

“You look great,” Nicki said in an effort to make herself feel better.

She knew she didn’t look bad at all. The shimmering bronze fabric of her dress draped beautifully. The loose boat-style neckline left her arms bare—arms that were toned. Folds of fabric hinted at the curves of her breasts without actually exposing them. Her skin was pale and she’d chosen to leave it bare, even her legs. Instead of panty hose, she’d smoothed on a lotion with a hint of glimmer.

One advantage of her wheelchair was she never had to worry about sore feet so she wore strappy impractical shoes that would have crippled anyone trying to walk. A cascade of curls that had taken nearly twenty minutes to arrange and spray into place tumbled down her back.

Had her date been anyone but Zane, she would have been pleased with her appearance. But seeing as it was him…She pressed a hand to her fluttering stomach and tried to think calming thoughts.

“Not a date,” she whispered. “This is not a date. It’s two friends hanging out together. But if it were a date…”

She allowed herself a minute or two of pure fantasy. Zane walking in the door, being so swept away that he pulled her into his arms and kissed her senseless. Then their clothes dissolved and they were making love on the rug in front of the fire.

Of course there were several problems with her fantasy. First of all, she was in a wheelchair and pulling her into his arms could be complicated. Second, the fireplace wasn’t lit, nor was there a rug in front of it. Somehow making love on a hardwood floor wasn’t very appealing.

Maybe she shouldn’t have attended that job fair after college. If she hadn’t met Jeff and been intrigued by his Ritter/Rankin Security, she would have pursued a post-graduate degree in psychology. With professional training she would be able to handle her crush on Zane. Of course if she’d gone to grad school she never would have met him and how gray her world would be without his light.

“Decisions, decisions,” she murmured as she wheeled out of her bedroom.

The doorbell rang just in time to offer a distraction. She headed in that direction and pulled it open.

She’d known Zane was going to pick her up—he’d insisted. And she’d been aware that by him coming to her house, she would be forced to look at him. She’d even told herself he would look good. Unfortunately she’d underestimated the situation by about forty-five percent.

He didn’t look good, he looked amazing. While he usually wore suits at work, the one he had on tonight was more elegant or better tailored or something. The smooth gray fabric brought out the depth of his eyes and made his shoulders look about two miles wide. He’d showered, shaved and wore the burgundy and silver tie she’d given him for Christmas the previous year.

Her brain registered all that before she noticed the spray of flowers he held in one hand. And not just flowers. Nothing traditional like roses or carnations. Instead Zane held several stalks of delicately beautiful orchids. The pale creamy petals were alabaster, tinged with muted green.

“Hey, Nicki,” Zane said as he stepped into her entryway. “You look beautiful, but I expected that.” He handed her the flowers. “I chose these because they reminded me of you.”

As he bent toward her, he brushed her cheek with his mouth. Tingles shot through her like out-of-control fireworks.

She couldn’t think, couldn’t move. Fortunately, it didn’t matter if she swayed a little. She was already sitting down and if she collapsed in a heap, the floor wasn’t that far away.