A Baby...Maybe? & How to Hunt a Husband (25 page)

He'd called her that night hoping he could convince her he was in a better mood. He was eager to see her, to explore just what they had become. But Shannon said she had to go to her mom's.

He asked if she wanted him to come as well, but she'd said no. She had it under control.

Tuesday he had hockey practice, so he'd left a message on her answering machine suggesting they get together Wednesday night.

Wednesday she left a message on his machine saying she had a PTC meeting, whatever that was. He figured it had to be like a PTA meeting, and when he tried to call back she wasn't there, so he couldn't ask.

Thursday they'd talked a few minutes, but couldn't get together because she'd promised to go out with her friend Patricia. He'd found out that PTC was indeed like PTA.

But to be honest, that wasn't the question that was nagging him. No, he was worried about why she was avoiding him, because he was pretty sure she was.

He wasn't taking any chances on Friday.

He hadn't seen her since Monday, and on Mon
day it had been a brief glimpse at best. Not nearly enough.

He missed her.

Which is why on Friday he parked his Harley in front of her house and hurried to the door.

He hadn't called first. Mainly because he was tired of talking to her machine, and hearing her voice on his, or simply grabbing a few seconds with her.

Oh, he knew they'd set the ground rules. This was supposed to be an easygoing sort of relationship. One where they saw each other when they had the time and the inclination. There were no strings.

But he'd had the inclination all week, and would have made the time, but Shannon had been busy.

Too busy for him. Not needing to see him as much as he needed to see her.

To hear her.

To touch her.

He was thinking about touching her as he rapped on the door.

She opened it, wearing as anti-Roxy an outfit as she possibly could. Well-worn gray sweats, a battered T-shirt, short spiky hair wild…and he'd never seen a woman look more lovely. More tantalizing.

More…

He'd planned on at least saying, “Hi, Shannon,” and playing it casual, following the absurd rules they'd set down, but when he drank in the sight of her, the only thing he wanted to do was…

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

Not just some little peck-on-the-cheek sort of greeting.

No.

It was long and hot with desire.

Hungry with his need.

He'd kissed her before, but still there was a sense of discovery and wonder as his lips devoured hers.

Or maybe her lips were devouring his, because in their meeting he felt her own need answering his.

He kicked the door shut with his foot, and pulled his jacket off, without breaking the contact.

She helped him, then her fingers moved to the buttons on his shirt. He could feel the slight tremble in her hand as she tried to manipulate the buttons. Finally she gave up and just pulled. The buttons pinged onto the floor.

She broke the kiss, looked down at the floor and said, “I can't believe I did that. I'm sorry. I—”

Before she could finish, he grabbed her shirt, tugged it over her head and said, “Forget the buttons. Forget anything but this.”

He stopped her from apologizing by resuming the kiss, as he eased her around the corner and into the living room.

He turned and let himself fall onto the couch, pulling her along with him.

She landed on his chest.

“Nate, is this going to be big enough?”

Even though his brain was muddled with the feel
of Shannon, he knew she was asking if the couch was big enough to hold them both, but he deliberately misconstrued the question. “It was big enough last time.”

“But we didn't do it here…” she said, then let the sentence fade off as she caught his entendre and started to laugh as she said, “It was more than big enough. It was huge. It was massive. Oh, I shouldn't go on like this, or I'll give you a swollen head.”

“Too late,” he said, as he burst out laughing. They both laughed until they were breathless with it.

Their quips were funny, but not quite that funny. For Nate, the laughter was just a giddy sort of release. He was here, with Shannon, where he belonged.

This.

Just that one word summed up why he'd spent the week missing Shannon.

This.

He felt complete, holding her, laughing with her.

And as he showed her that a couch could indeed be
big enough,
he knew
this
was much more than boinking.

This
wasn't uncomplicated, as they'd planned.

As a matter of fact, he suspected
this
could be quite complicated. He didn't mind the complication at all, and hoped he could convince Shannon not to mind as well.

As he made love to her, the feeling of certainty as to what
this
was grew.

Her name rolled off his lips like a chant to the rhythm of their bodies.

And when she whispered his name in return, he lost all control and took them both over the edge. They tumbled over together.

They twisted and somehow managed to snuggle on the couch afterward.

“Nate, I—” Shannon started, then stopped herself short.

He waited for her to finish the sentence, but instead of the two little words he longed to hear, that he'd hoped she was going to utter, she said, “I just wanted to say, you were right, it was plenty big enough.”

She laughed then, and gently ran a finger along his jawline.

It was just the smallest of caresses, but it was enough to stir Nate's desire.

“Maybe we should go get a shower and then finish discussing how big is big enough,” he said with a chuckle.

“Now, that's an offer a girl can't refuse.”

They raced to the shower, laughing like a couple of kids.

Nate knew he'd have to tell her that things had changed for him, that he didn't want to be boink-buddies, he wanted more.

He wanted it all.

In the morning,
he told himself as he ran his soap-filled hands all over her luscious body.

Tomorrow morning he'd tell her everything.

“G
OOD MORNING
,”
Nate murmured in her ear.

Shannon wiggled closer to him, not saying anything, mainly because her first impulse was to blurt out those words she'd decided not to blurt—at least not until she could figure out just how to say them right.

If she said them wrong he might leave. After all, love wasn't what he'd signed on for…uncomplicated was.

Nate was toying with her hair as he held her tight.

She liked the way it felt.

Wrapped in Nate.

Waking up on a Saturday morning with him in her bed.

She'd missed him so much last week, but had stayed away because she was afraid…afraid she'd blurt out the words and ruin everything.

The words were right there on the end of her tongue, but she valiantly held them in, not wanting to scare him off.

“Are you just going to lie there all morning?” he asked with a chuckle.

Pushing the words to the back of her mouth, she managed to squeeze “Maybe” out past them.

She congratulated herself for not saying them.

Maybe she could be with him and not say them, at least not until there was a chance he'd say them back.

If she could just give him more time maybe he'd love her, too.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Aha, she'd managed another word and hadn't let those three little ones slip.

She was getting good at this.

“Do you feel like taking a chance on my making pancakes?”

“I love—” she bit the words back and filled in “—pancakes. I'm more than willing to take a chance on your cooking.”

Sneaky, sneaky little words.

Almost as sneaky as the feeling that had stolen into her heart and wouldn't let her shake it.

Nate looked almost disappointed for a split second. Maybe he'd hoped she'd offer to cook them?

The look passed quickly, and in its place, he smiled. “Maybe after we fortify our strength with breakfast we could come back in here and…”

He whispered his plans in her ear. Soft and low, his voice tickled her senses.

She hoped he could make his pancakes fast, because his offer sounded very, very tempting.

She nodded, saying, “I love—”

Darn. There they were again. “—I'd love to.”

How on earth was she going to have breakfast and then make love to Nate again and not say them?

Maybe she could handle not telling him how much she loved him, not telling him how cute he was on the back of his Harley, how much she liked hearing about his day, how much she loved spending an evening arguing about what constituted a chick-flick, and how much she loved the sight of him dressed as a Harley rider or as a pharmacist.

She couldn't tell him how much she liked watching him with his parents, how much she loved waking up next to him, how much she loved…just how much she loved.

She pushed back the words and the thoughts, and pulled back the blanket. She gave a small yip. “It's cold in here.”

Nate didn't yip as he crawled out of bed, but she could see goose bumps covering the skin she'd grown to know so well.

Shannon reached in her closet, pulled out her favorite fleecy robe and wrapped it around herself. It might be a bit ratty, but it was still warm.

“Here,” she said, handing him a second robe, the one her mom had bought her for Christmas and she'd never worn. Her taste didn't match her mother's in robes—or much else, for that matter.

She could have offered him something else, but
one of the other things she happened to love was teasing Nate.

“It's pink,” he grumbled, almost on cue, holding it with two fingers as if the color was somehow contagious.

“So?” she countered.

“Real men don't wear pink.”

“Well…if you're really that insecure about your masculinity, I'll find you something else.”

“I'm not insecure.” He slipped it on. “But I mean, if I were really Bull, I'd deal with the chill without resorting to this,” he muttered as he knotted the belt.

What was a huge robe on her, stretched to its limits across Nate's much broader shoulders.

Looking at him, his hair sleep-mussed, wearing her pink robe, Shannon was awash with the need to say the words.

Just to let them out.

Forget planning.

Forget perfect.

She was going to be brave and simply say them. She loved so many things about Nate, that she simply couldn't contain it another minute.

Tell him.

That's all she could do. That and pray he wouldn't walk right out the door, but would stick around long enough to learn to love her, too.

Ah, but he was wearing a pink bathrobe. He'd never walk out the door in that.

He was trapped.

This was the perfect time.

“Nate, there's something I have to tell you. I've spent the week trying to decide how, and finally have come to the conclusion that there's no right way. It's something important…” The words that had been aching to come out, hung back.

“Yes?” he said, when the silence hung in the room a few seconds too long for comfort.

Shannon garnered her strength, and said, “I love—”

The doorbell rang.

Who on earth would be ringing her doorbell at eight o'clock on a Saturday morning, interrupting her perfect moment?

“Mom,” she muttered. Who else could it be? “I'll get rid of her.”

Shannon Bonnie O'Malley, aka Roxy, had had enough. She wasn't going to play dodge-the-wedding-bullet with her mom any more.

She wasn't going to try and find a perfect way to tell the man she loved that she loved him.

She was going to be bold and take charge. She was kicking her mom out and then she was going to talk to Nate. She was going to tell him she loved him and he was just going to have to deal with the complication.

“You want help?” he asked.

“No. You go start the breakfast, I'll get rid of her.”

He kissed her cheek. “Good luck.”

He went to the kitchen and Shannon marched to the front door.

Enough was enough.

She pulled the door open and just stared.

“Good morning, Shannon, dear,” Mrs. Calder said.

Her mother leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Good morning, sweetheart. Judy and I met in the driveway. You know what they say, great minds think alike. I brought donuts.”

“And I baked some homemade muffins this morning,” Mrs. Calder said.

Shannon decided both moms visiting again was scarier than the thought of Mrs. Calder's homemade muffins.

She tried to think of something to say, “I…uh…”

Her resolve might have been enough to let her deal with her mother, but no amount of resolve could help her deal with both mothers.

She needed reinforcements.

She needed Nate.

“Come on in, Judy,” her mom said as she and Mrs. Calder walked past Shannon and into the house.

“Is Nate still in bed?” her mom asked, without waiting for an answer.

Shannon heard Nate say, “Mom,” as the two women walked into the kitchen.

Knowing there was nothing to do but follow, Shannon did just that. She realized that her feet were bare, but she couldn't even work up any embarrassment about it.

She simply had too much on her mind and three little words just dying to be said, but there was no way to say them with both their mothers here.

“Shannon, your mom brought donuts and mine made us muffins,” Nate said, a grim mock-smile pasted on his lips.

“Yes, they told me.”

“So, what brings you both out this early on a Saturday morning?” he asked both mothers as he poured coffee into four mugs.

“I came to tell Shannon she had to quit her job,” his mom said. “I worry all the time. This can't go on, and I'm sure her mother agrees with me.”

“Quit her job? Of course I don't agree with you. At least Shannon has steady work and a steady pay check. While all your son does is ride around on a motorcycle all day.”

“I hate that motorcycle,” his mom confessed.

The phone rang and Shannon automatically picked it up. “Hello?”

“Shannon,” Kate said. “I'm thinking I should come home. Mom says that this Bull guy is trouble and…”

The argument about motorcycles and quitting jobs continued.

Kate poured out her worries across the phone line.

Nate stood there looking as lost as Shannon felt.

Shannon realized that telling Nate she loved him couldn't possibly get any more complicated than this.

The teacher in her came to life. Shannon put her fingers to her lips and let out a shrill whistle….
Zwwwwwippppp.

Three sets of eyes were immediately focused on her. She'd known they would be. She'd used the whistle for years to get unruly students' attention.

“Enough!” she said.

She put the phone to her ear and said, “Kate, I'll call you back later. Don't come home. Everything's under control.

“Mom and Mrs. Calder, I'm done playing games. Things aren't the way they seem. This is…”

She looked to Nate and saw him give a small nod of agreement. “It all started at Mick's bar, just like we said. It was after one of the horrendous dates you fixed me up on, Mom. I'd had enough.”

“Me, too, Mom,” Nate said. “All that,
And I almost died giving birth to you, and all I want is a grandbaby
…stuff. And fixing me up with some initial girl.”

“Kay,” his mother supplied.

“Yeah, fixing up,” Shannon echoed. “Remember Shelby, Mom? Shelby and Shannon. At least if
someone said Nate and Kay it wouldn't sound like you were being shushed in a library.”

Nate laughed. “I hadn't thought of that, but you're right. You aren't destined for a Shelby.”

“Shannon has definite ideas about what names go together,” her mother said. “Nate and Shannon. Those go well, don't you think, dear?”

Shannon couldn't begin to tell her mother just how much she agreed…at least not until she told Nate how much they went together.

“That's our point. Shannon and Nate do really go together, at least not the way you two think.”

“Or Roxy and Bull,” Mrs. Calder said. “Those two names go well together, too, don't you think, Brigit?”

“I certainly do, Judy.”

They knew.

Their mothers knew the truth.

Shannon saw it in their eyes.

“But as much as my daughter focuses on names,” her mom continued, “I have to say, I prefer focusing on careers, on personal traits. And I'd say a pharmacist and a teacher go together about as well as—”

“A biker and a stripper—”

“Exotic dancer.” Nate corrected his mom before Shannon could.

Shannon reached out, took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “So you both know this is just an act.”

“Of course we knew. We're bright, capable
women who saw through your little charade,” his mom said.

Shannon's mom gave her a funny look. “But it's not all an act.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Why, look at the two of you, united against us. Holding hands, sleeping over. You two are in love,” her mom said, her voice practically cooing. She sounded just the way Patricia had.

“I can't speak for Nate, but what I feel for him isn't something I'm going to discuss with the two of you. As a matter of fact, it's time you both left. You've meddled enough. Nate and I will work things out on our own.”

“But, honey, there are just some things that a girl needs her mother for.”

“You're right, Mom, but this isn't one of them.” She steered both protesting mothers to the door. “Thank you for stopping by.”

“But—” her mother and Mrs. Calder said in unison.

“But nothing. Nate and I are adults. Whatever is going to happen next in our relationship is up to us.”

“This isn't about the bet, you know, honey,” her mom said softly. “I want you to be happy. I think Nate's the man for you.”

“I know that, Mom.” She kissed her mother's cheek.

Shannon shut the door on both of the moms, then headed back to the kitchen.

She hoped that when she said the words Nate would admit he loved her as well, or that he was willing to give them a chance.

“They're gone?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Phew,” he wiped his brow. “We may be able to handle keeping things uncomplicated, but our moms certainly try to make things interesting. Do you think they'll stay off our backs now that they know the truth?”

“No,” she said with a small smile. “They'll probably both start in again tomorrow.”

“So…” he paused, obviously looking for something to say, “Do you still want those pancakes?” he asked.

“No, I don't think so.”

“You said you wanted to talk about something?”

“I…” She was chickening out. There he was, standing in the middle of her kitchen, and all she wanted to do was run over to him and shout the words,
I love you.

She gathered her courage.

Before she could get the words out he said, “Just because they know doesn't mean our…” he hesitated, obviously looking for a description of their relationship.

“Our dating-but-not-really relationship?” she
asked. “Our boink-buddy-ness? Our
uncomplicated
thing?”

“Yes. There's no reason we can't keep seeing each other. I enjoy being with you. What we have is good.”

Talk about being damned by faint praise.

Here she was ready to spill her heart out to him, to tell him she was finding it hard to breathe when he wasn't around and he says that he enjoys being with her?

Of course he thought what they had was good. It was uncomplicated.

Shannon hated that word at this point.

She hated this stupid charade.

She'd just say the words, and when he dumped her she'd pick herself up and move on.