A Baby...Maybe? & How to Hunt a Husband (22 page)

“I suppose people in your line of work tend to band together,” his mother said. “I mean, it's wonderful to have friends who understand what you do and why. People who don't judge you,” his mom said.

“Oh, you're so right,” Patricia said. “So many people just hear the bad stuff, how tough it can be. They don't understand that there are good things involved with the job. That the good things far out weigh the bad.”

“Shannon was just telling us about it the other night. Would you like to join us?” his mom said. “I'd love the chance to get to know Shannon's friends better now that she and Nate are so close.”

“Sure. We'd love to,” Patricia, aka Candy, said as she pulled up a chair from a neighboring table. “So, Nate, how long have you and Shannon been seeing each other?”

“A while,” he said as noncommittally as he could manage. He turned to Kyle, aka Bruno the Bouncer. “How 'bout those Pirates?”

“Yeah. How 'bout them?” Kyle countered. “I think they can go all the way this year.” He turned to Nate's dad and said, “You?”

“An Indian fan through and through.”

Nate worked at keeping the conversation turned to sports. He figured if they were talking balls and
strikes loud enough his mom couldn't start to cross-examine Shannon's friend about
work.

“Patricia…” his mom said.

“And what about the Otters still being in the play-offs?” Nate said, hoping to out-talk his mom. He should have known it wouldn't work. “It's so great to still have hockey games so far into the spring.”

His mom shot him an evil glare and continued, “So, how long have you worked at…well, with Shannon?”

“Oh, it must be three years now, right Shannon?” Patricia said.

“Yeah,” she answered, sounding as morose as he felt.

“I've been to all the home games,” Nate said. “I play amateur hockey with some friends.”

“Me, too,” said Kyle. “A bunch of us at work got together and formed a team. We've got games through July. I love baseball, but hockey, now that's a tough sport.”

Nate's mom picked right up on that. “The people you…work with are on a hockey team?”

“Co-ed. It's just for fun. Work can be so stressful, there are just so many demands, we need somewhere to unwind. And there's no better way to de-stress than skating around an ice rink hitting pucks.”

“I imagine you do need an outlet given the cir
cumstances,” his mom said. “It's good that all the women at work have you to look after them.”

Kyle grinned at Patricia. “I look after some a little more closely than others.”

“Well, I'm sure you're a gentleman. Shannon told me that you've been her hero on more than one occasion.”

“Oh, yeah. There was that time the Pembrooke clan got together and…

“W
ELL
,
NOW
,
that was an interesting night,” Nate said as they walked from his car up to her porch.

Interesting
was going to be the discussion in the teacher's room on Monday, trying to explain what had happened…yeah, that would be interesting.

For the life of her, Shannon couldn't think of a way to explain her outfit.

Somehow they'd made it through the meal without having Nate's mom see through their deception, but it had been a near thing more than once. Thank goodness for the Erie Otters being in the play-offs. The guys had kept that conversation going for quite a while.

“Interesting,” Shannon repeated. “Yeah, you can say that again.”

She stood, staring out at the street lights wondering if she could bribe Patricia and Kyle into silence. Oh, her date was going to be all over the faculty room on Monday, she just knew it.

“That was…” Nate left the sentence hanging, smiling as he stood next to her.

“Funny, Calder. Real funny. Let's see how
funny you'd think it was if some of your customers from the pharmacy saw you all bikered up.”

His smile faded abruptly and he laid a hand lightly on her shoulder. It was meant to be comforting, not something designed to arouse her…but arouse her it did.

The slightest touch, the smallest gesture could heat her blood stream, at least they could if it was Nate doing the touching or the gesture.

“You're really upset,” he said, softly.

She nodded. Though she wasn't nearly as upset about dinner as she was by the power Nate seemed to have over her. “Yes, I am.”

“Hey, I'm sorry.”

She shrugged. “It wasn't your fault.”

“I should have refused to go out with my mom. I just don't know how to tell her no sometimes.”

“Tell me about it. It's not your fault I'm in this absurd situation. It's my mother's. You not being able to say no to a dinner is far more understandable than me not being able to say no to a wedding.”

“I know you don't want to hear this right now,” Nate said slowly, “but I have to confess, I'm sort of grateful to your mom.”

“Grateful?” Of all the things she'd expect to hear him say, that wasn't one.

“Grateful?” she repeated.

“Yeah. I mean, if your mom hadn't come up with that bet and started throwing you at men, you
wouldn't have ended up at Mick's. If you hadn't ended up at Mick's, then I wouldn't have met you. If I hadn't met you I wouldn't be standing here on your porch, with a full moon blazing overhead, thinking about doing this—”

There was no time to think, no time to prepare, though even if there had been, Shannon would have been defenseless as Nate stopped talking and moved toward her. He turned her gently until she was facing him and then lowered his lips to hers.

She could have turned her head. Could have backed away. Instead, she met the kiss.

Hot. Hard. Demanding. Any thoughts of ruined reputations or overbearing mothers were immediately lost in the sensation of kissing Nate.

The smell of him, the taste of him, the firmness of his lips, the warmth of his body pressed to hers…it all merged into one throbbing blaze of desire. Shannon was swimming in a sea of sensations—drowning in them.

The kiss eased, and slowly their lips parted, but neither of them released their hold on the other.

“Wow,” Nate said as he released his breath.

Shannon laughed. “Oh so eloquent, as always, Mr. Calder.”

“How's this for eloquent…I want you. Not just some kiss on your porch, but all of you. I want to take you inside, into your room and—”

“Nate,” she said, interrupting his description because it so well matched her own thoughts…her
own desires. “I don't know. I don't want to take our charade, our partnership, and try to turn it into something that it's not. Something it can't be. What we have is fiction. Even our casual dating agreement isn't a real relationship.”

“I'm not suggesting marriage. I'm suggesting that this could be good. Very good. I think over the last two weeks we've developed something more than fiction…we've become friends. We both understand that we're not ready for a lifelong commitment. Why can't that friendship extend to what we both so obviously want?”

“Nate, I've come to value your friendship. I know we haven't known each other long, but you mean something to me. Something I'm not willing to lose. Do you really think we could be intimate and still just be friends?”

“Why not? A friendship that extends into the bedroom.” He paused. “Bedroom buddies.”

“Why not?”
she repeated with a laugh. “Yes, you are eloquent.”

“You want something more eloquent? How about this.” He paused a moment, then said, “I haven't been able to get you out of my head since that first night at Mick's. I like being with you. I like laughing with you. I liked holding you in my arms while you slept last week. Hell, I didn't even mind watching a chick-flick with you.”

“You said
Terminator
wasn't a chick-flick,” she pointed out with a laugh.

“I lied. You were right. It's a romance.”

“And this? What will this thing between us be, Nate?”

“We're friends. Friends who desire one another.”

“And that will be enough?” She was asking the question of Nate, but really, it was meant for herself.

Could it be enough to be just intimate friends with Nate?

What had he said? Bedroom buddies. Friends who occasionally slept together, but had no real commitment?

Could that work?

She didn't know the answer.

“It could be enough, I think. At least for me,” he said. “What about for you?”

“I don't know the answer to that. I'll confess, I've had boyfriends in the past, but no one I've wanted the way I want you. No one I felt this sense of friendship…this sense of connection with.”

“Is that enough?” he asked softly as he pulled her close, tighter within the shelter of his arms.

“For now,” she said, nodding as she answered her own question. “Yes. It can be enough for now.”

Decision made, she didn't want to think or analyze any more. She just wanted him—immediately, if not sooner.

She tore herself away from his embrace, and
fumbled through her purse for her keys. Two tries later, she couldn't contain the tremor in her hand long enough to get the key into the hole.

“Let me,” Nate said.

He unlocked the door and swept her inside, slamming the door behind him. He dropped the keys, and they landed on the tile with a clank.

“I—”

“Shh. We're not talking. We're…”

His lips met hers again, stoking intoxicating desire that rose and grew to new, heady proportions. He steered her backward down the hall, without ending the kiss.

Shannon was just getting the hang of walking backward and kissing when she thwacked to an abrupt halt, her back pressed against her bedroom door, her front pressed against Nate. She reached behind her back, fumbled with the knob and they both practically fell into the room as the door swung inward.

They stood at the end of her bed and she wrapped her arms around his neck. The hunger of their kiss grew until it threatened to overwhelm her.

Shannon pulled back and tried to catch her breath, but Nate didn't seem to want to oblige. His hands were tugging at her shirt, pulling it up and off. And suddenly she was helping him, needing to remove any barriers between them. As he slid off his own shirt, she unbuttoned her pants and tugged downward.

They didn't budge.

Not even an inch.

She tried again. But, unfortunately, pleather seemed to have a lot of the same characteristics as leather. It didn't slide well on hot, sticky skin.

And even more unfortunately, Shannon was definitely hot…and not because of the temperature, but because of the man standing next to her, watching as she tugged at the waistband of the pants. The fabric moved a millimeter toward her feet and then stuck again, as if superglued.

“Problems?” Nate asked, tossing his shirt on the floor.

She stared at his naked chest. It was a sight to behold. Firm, without being overworked. He looked like a man who was active enough without being obsessed by his body.

“Shannon?” he said, reaching for the snap on his jeans.

“Yes?” she said, her voice practically a whisper.

She knew he was asking her something, but she was mesmerized by the sight of him and had lost track of what she'd been doing and what he was asking. She reached out and grazed a line down his chest with the tip of her finger.

“Shannon, you stopped. What's wrong?”

Stopped? Her mind was fuzzy. She felt almost drunk on the sight of him.

“Stopped?” she echoed.

“Stopped undressing.” He slid the zipper on his pants down with maddening slowness.

“I, uh…” What were they talking about? She didn't have a clue. She stood, frozen to the spot, watching every movement Nate made. Feeling a little more…just a little
more
with each movement.

“Shannon-me-love,” he crooned, his face lowered and just a breath away from her own.

His lips grazed hers again. She felt frenzied with desire. With need. A need that had to be met.

Her bra stood between her and his naked chest. She reached behind her back, trying to undo the clasp, but couldn't get her hands to stop trembling enough to work the small hooks.

“Allow me,” Nate said against her lips, not really pausing the kiss at all, but speaking into it.

The bra was unclasped and before she could draw in a breath, it was gone. Her chest pressed to his, her heartbeat melded with his.

Thump, thump.

Thump, thump.

It was as if there was no separation between them. They were one.

One breath.

One heartbeat.

One entity.

His hand reached between their fused chests and touched her nipple, just a soft brush. Shannon heard herself groan.

“Here, let me help,” he said as his hands hooked onto her waistband and tugged.

The pants didn't move.

Suddenly she remembered what she'd been doing when he removed his shirt.

She remembered the fact that she was stuck in her pants.

Nate's lips left hers and he looked down, studying the problem.

“Uh?”

“They're fake leather,” she said as she joined his tugging. “They say it's like leather, but maybe they should say it's like a chastity belt. Parents all over the world would buy pseudo-leather pants for their daughters.”

They both tugged and the pants slipped down another fraction of a millimeter.

“Maybe if you sat down on the bed and I pulled,” Nate said.

Shannon nodded. She was starting to feel a bit claustrophobic about being stuck in her pants. What if they couldn't get them off?

She sat on the edge of the bed and gripped the footboard.

Nate pulled. Hard.

She was glad she'd held on, because her pants didn't move at all, but her body practically flew off the bed. Suspended between the footboard and Nate's grip on her pant-legs, she hung like a suspension bridge.

Nate let her settle back down onto the mattress and Shannon could have sworn she heard a chuckle, but when she checked he looked serious.

“I don't think this is working,” she said. “I should have taken them off before I got so…”

“Hot?” he supplied, unable to continue his fake seriousness. He was grinning.

Leave it to a man to find the idea that he'd got her so worked up that she was stuck in her pants a compliment.

“It is warm out tonight.”

“I don't think that's why you're all hot,” he said as he reached out and gently touched her nipple. It stood at attention. “No, I don't think it has a thing to do with the weather.”

“You're enjoying this.” He reached for her again, and she moved back. “Let me think a minute.”

“Are you saying this,” he touched her nipple again, “disturbs you?”

“You disturb me even when you're not touching me. This just makes it worse.” She paused and added, “A good worse.”

“Do you have any powder?” he asked.

“Powder?”

“Maybe if we shake a little into your pants it will help.”

“You want to powder my pants?” She giggled. “Ah, Bull, you are a kinky man.”

“Ah, but you love it, Roxy.”

They both burst out laughing: Full, deep, catch-your-breath-when-you're done sort of laughter.

When she could breath again, she said, “You know, this has never happened before.”

“Getting stuck in your pants?” He gave the waistband another little tug, but it didn't move at all.

“No. This. Laughing like this when I'm…” she paused, looking for the right word.

“When you're what?”

She found the word. “Aroused.”

“So, you're aroused, huh?” he asked, a macho sort of tone in his voice.

“Yes.” She would have sworn in a court of law that his chest actually puffed out. “Don't let it go to your head, but if we don't get my pants off me soon, I just might explode with wanting you.”

“I like your way with words,” he said as he wiggled his eyebrows.

They both burst out laughing again.

Maybe it was nerves, or maybe, just maybe there was something special about her relationship with Nate. Something more than just friendship. Something that bore reflection.

But she'd reflect tomorrow. Right now, she just wanted to get her pants off.

She found a bottle of powder from her vanity and sprinkled some liberally into her pants, reaching down her thighs and rubbing it as far as she could.

Nate sat on the edge of the bed, watching her every move. “Want help?”

“If you help I'm bound to get hotter, which will ultimately defeat the purpose. Stay there.”