Happily Ever All-Star: A Secret Baby Romance (7 page)

“You aren’t a little virgin either,” I said.

“No,” she laughed. “I’m a walking consequence.”

And the real father was a fool for walking away. Well, I wasn’t the type to run. Not from a hard choice. Not from a commitment. And not from a friend.

Rory bit her lip. “You know people will assume we’re together…together.”

I glanced to her yet-flat tummy and savored every curve on the way down. “Hopefully, they’ll be jealous.”

“I don’t want you to be miserable.”

“That’s impossible with you.”

“Because we’ll be together.
A lot
.”

“That’s not such a bad thing.”

Her eyes flashed, curious and bright. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

More than ever, even if I did it for the wrong reasons. “You should move in with me.”

“
Move in
?”

“I suppose you’re gonna fight me on this too?”

“You’re damned right. I can’t impose on you like that.”

I expected it. Fortunately, I knew Rory. Practical, sensible Rory.

“You should move in with me until the baby is born,” I said. “Hell, until you’re confident that you can handle being on your own.”

“It’s one thing to steal my own drawer and plug my hair dryer into your bathroom outlet,” Rory said. “It’s another thing to plop a
newborn
into your living room.”

“And I suppose a single-mother-to-be wouldn’t want to save money on six or seven months’ rent?”

“…Rent free?”

What sort of monster did she think I was? “Of course rent free. I’ll take care of everything—housing, groceries, utilities. All you need to do is move in and help me sell this relationship as something real. Plus…” I let the implication linger. “It wouldn’t hurt to have a live-in doctor to observe my general health, just to reassure her that I do belong on the field.”

Rory nodded. “You help me, and I help you?”

“That’s the plan.”

“This is a bad plan.”

“On the contrary.” I extended my hand. She shook on it. “I think I’m just what the doctor ordered.”

T
oo bad a fake
relationship didn’t come with imaginary luggage.

I dropped my purse in Jude’s entryway.

There. My handbag was moved. If only my furniture, books, clothes, and life could fit into the side pocket with the gum and iPhone.

Fortunately, Jude had hired movers to help me make the transition. Not that I was bringing much with me. His penthouse had been pre-furnished—more suited for a king than a running back. Who knew apartments came in two stories. I’d have credited his taste, but I remembered Jude’s room from when we were kids. He was lucky he could find matching socks, let alone pick crown molding and decorate with cool, winter colors.

Still, the penthouse was amazingly beautiful. I’d never ridden in a private elevator before, and I’d never tripped over marble steps. Giant windows spanned the entirety of the sitting rooms. And somewhere, tucked away, Jude mentioned a Jacuzzi tub. My butt would be
glamorous
.

I closed the door behind me and turned to find Jude’s most unusual house guest.

A dog.

The dalmatian padded over to greet me, wagging his tail so hard I worried his spots would flick off and stain the pristine entryway.

“Hello, puppy,” I said.

The dog yipped his own pleasantry and offered a paw. I took it as it seemed only the polite thing to do. But it was a ploy.

“Nice to meet you, fella—”

The dog seized my purse between his teeth. He gave a playful growl and shook his head.

“Oh, no. That’s not a toy.”

I reached for my purse. Too slow. The dog twisted with a half-gaited jump and trotted away, merrily wagging his tail and bidding me further into the penthouse.

“Wait…
dog
. Come back. That’s the only purse I have that goes with a cocktail dress and lab coat!”

I had no treat to offer or squeaky toy to hold as ransom. I darted after the dog, stopping only to kick my sandals off before I slid across the hardwood floors.

Shattering a shoe’s heel was nothing compared to cracking an ankle. Besides, it was dumb to even wear them. The heels were the only shoes I owned that made my calves look good—if such a stupid thing were possible.

Like Jude was a
calf
man.

Hell, even if he was, I’d be a heifer in a few months anyway. First in size, then…more literally.

Eighteen weeks into the pregnancy, and I was still in the sweet spot between denial and panic. I tried to prepare, even looked through the baby aisles at Target. But as cute as the onesies were, the various equipment and accoutrements which promised to extract liquids from my body overwhelmed me.

If the word
duct
didn’t make me queasy, the threat of
pints
sure as hell did.

I only had one pair of sexy black heels. Now my only pumps would be a terrible fashion statement.

That got me upset. Just what I needed. Leaky eyes. Future leaky boobs. A very real pregnancy in a very imaginary relationship.

And the man I’d crushed on since elementary school would only see me get bigger, more miserable, more sick, more frazzled, more…

In love with him.

Jude called my name.

“Hey, Doc.” The nickname was starting to grow on me. “Sorry—I was getting out of the shower. Lost track of time.”

Yeah. I’d have been a little lost with Jude in the shower too.

I plastered on a smile and greeted my assumed boyfriend as if I were used to seeing him shirtless and dripping from a hot shower. He ruffled a towel through his wet hair.

That was okay. I didn’t need to breathe, not when I could gawk instead. The air rushed from me as if he had wrapped me in his arms and squeezed until I popped. It was probably the first time I was glad he didn’t hug me. The slightest pressure would have squeezed every crazy, hormonal emotion out of me like I was a tube of manic depressive toothpaste.

“Did you find the place okay?” Jude tossed his towel over his shoulder. The edge tickled over his abs—thick and shadowed with rippling muscle. His jeans hung low over a trim waist, hinting at that lovely V between his hips.

“Yeah,” I said. “Thought I’d need a retina scan to get in though.”

He laughed. “The penthouse is a little nuts, but it was the only furnished place I could find this close to the practice facility. I wanted to focus on training camp, not moving and real estate.”

Ah, the ramblings of a mad, football-obsessed millionaire. I wasn’t surprised. Even when we were kids, we had to drag him to movies, beg him to play video games, and bribe him into cultural events. If it wasn’t football, it wasn’t important. At least he’d hired someone to buy his groceries and clean his house or the man would have died to the elements in the middle of an end zone.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Jude said. “You’re really gonna brighten this place up.”

“You realize a pregnant woman has invaded your bachelor pad?”

“As long as you’re not giving birth
in
my penthouse, I think we’ll work it out.”

“I’ll try to keep up my end of the bargain.”

“Just keep those legs crossed.”

“Oh, where was that sage wisdom four months ago?”

Jude stretched, and every muscle in his chest tightened with him. Only twenty-two weeks of this torture to go.

“Are you here for good?” he asked. “Staying the night?”

Did my mouth actually have to water as I stared at his lean, toned, gratuitously-sexy body?
Stay the night
? Hell, he’d be lucky if I moved off of the stairs.

Until this point, the pregnancy cravings hadn’t extended beyond orange juice and chocolate. Now I wanted something different.

A meat popsicle.

A lick of his loins.

A peck of his pecker.

Maybe a cheeseburger too.

And now I was sweating. Hungry. Panicked. Horny. Still hording coupons for breast pumps.

I wasn’t falling for Jude; I was falling apart.

“Where’s your stuff?” he asked.

Breathe. Blink. Swallow.

Don’t choke on the tongue.

“Your…butler took my purse already.”

“My butler?” Jude frowned as his dog trotted to the landing. “Oh…
him
.”

The dog had returned, and in his adventures, he had somehow found a lamp shade. He set it at Jude’s feet, proud of his vandalism.

Then he began to gnaw.

I didn’t ask what had happened to the other pieces of the lamp. Best to let certain mysteries rest.

“I can’t believe you have a dog,” I said.

“Yeah.” Jude stared at the creature, giving him a wide birth. “That’s Phillip.”

“
Phillip
?”

“My sister got him for me last year, after the concussion. She wanted me to have some company after the family and physical therapists left.” Jude took the lamp shade from Phillip. “It must be dinner time. What time is it?”

I checked my watch. “Four thirty.”

“Yeah. He attacks the lamps if it’s after four.”

“…Why?”

“Phillip has a strict routine. He alerts me if we’ve lost track of time.”

“I doubt your lamps are fans.”

“Nah, I’ve gone through about seven. He’s even scaled a wall and assassinated a sconce.”

“So…” I gave Phillip a pat as he sat at my side. “He attacks lamps when he’s hungry.”

“I’m still learning the rules. He’s got a couple weird cues. He’ll only answer to
Phillip
, gets offended if you call him
Phil
. He won’t take a bath after nine at night. Won’t walk before six in the morning. Dinner is served at four or the lamp shades are in peril. He doesn’t like country music. I think he’s afraid of the laundry machine. And if you hit snooze on an alarm…he’ll steal all the toilet paper in the house.”

“Okay…that’s insane.”

“He prefers
particular
. Oh, and he’s a smuggler.”

“A…smuggler?”

“Protect your socks, anything shiny, sponges, and soap.” Jude frowned. “Pretty much anything starting with the letter S.”

Wow, I was very glad he never mentioned the dog during his exam or I would have thought Jude lost his damn mind. I pointed to the dalmation.

“He’s just a dog,” I said.

“I’m not entirely sure he knows that.”

“Does he know where he put my purse?”

Jude frowned at his buddy. “I’ll probably find it buried in my pillows. That’s where most everything ends up. Forks. Bones. My ties. A football. One time I found a copy of War and Peace.” His eyebrows rose. “I don’t own any hardbound books. He must have stolen it from the lobby or something. The least he could have swiped was a Playboy.”

“Man’s best friend, huh?”

“Anyway, I’ll get your purse…unless you want to leave it in my bedroom?”

“Leave it?”

“Yeah. It’s up to you. You can sleep wherever you want.”

My mouth dried. I tried not to envision Jude in his bed, sheet lazily tucked along his side, his thick biceps tensed behind his head.

“I could take your bed?” I licked my lips.

“If you wanted.”

“I…I had no idea that’s what
you
wanted.”

I regretted not packing anything slinkier than cotton panties to wear for bed. Not that my nighttime retainer wasn’t sexy, but I’d throw the damn thing away for him. My teeth could move a millimeter if Jude moved heaven and earth around me.

“Sure, if you want to take the master bedroom, I’ll sleep in the guest room.”

Oh.

The guest room.

Right. How…
civilized
.

I needed a time out to get familiar with his shower head if I was going to make it through any more conversation.

“Excellent.” I faked a smile. “The guest room is fine. No problem there.”

Jude nodded, ringing the last bit of water from his hair. He caught me staring, but he looked shamed instead.

“Sorry,” he said.

He didn’t have to apologize for going shirtless. I should have expressed my gratitude instead.

“I did a little cardio after practice,” he said. “I’m trying to make sure I’m in shape. Only four weeks left before the start of the season, and…I’m not a young guy anymore.”

“You’re thirty-three.”

“There’s dog years, and then there’s running back years. I’m old as hell compared to the rest of the league. I get on the field, and I’m tempted to yell at the rookies to keep off the grass.”

“None of that matters if you feel good.” I masked the question with another glance around his apartment. “No problems on the field? Headaches? Sensitivity to light or sound?”

“Okay, Doctor Merriweather. I get the point.”

I pointed to the oversized windows framing the city of Ironfield. The penthouse faced the knotted rivers and parks which bordered downtown—a lovely view…except for the blackout curtains tucked along the side of the glass.

Jude shrugged. “I needed something to block the light after my concussion, trying to stave off the headaches. But they’re cleared up now.”

“You sure?”

“Yep. The drapes moved with me. Just needed to hang something up.”

In a completely furnished apartment, he hung garish blackout curtains. Uh-huh. It was a damn good thing I was here. I knew Jude too well. He was hiding more about his injury than he let on. At least now I could watch over him.

All of him.

Shirtless. Dripping. Smiling.

“I should give you a tour,” he said. “This place has a wonderful view.”

I followed him through the hall, studying his impressive form. I’d love six months of
that
view.

Jude led me to his kitchen, a gorgeous quartz-filled work of art, fully loaded with every stainless steel appliance I’d make into a mess, a walk-in pantry the size of my bedroom, and an arched eat-in patio that lead to a lovely balcony.

“Wow, this is…” I buzzed my lips. “Impressive. I worked through med school with a hot plate and a pack of Ramen noodles. I don’t know what I’ll do without a shower and toilet in the corner like in my studio apartment.”

“The architect didn’t have an eye for efficiency.”

“I can sacrifice a few creature comforts for luxury.”

“You’ll sacrifice nothing.” Jude led me through the rest of the penthouse, pointing out the rooms. “Living room, gym, study, and…” He led me to my bedroom. “Your private space. It’s yours. You can do whatever you want with it.”

I studied the bedroom, marveling at the snow-white poster bed and walk-in closet. “Wow. I wasn’t
that
mad at you for spilling the beans.”

“I was serious when I said I wanted to help.”

I tested the bed. The mattress didn’t immediately cave in the middle like the fifteen-year-old bundle of dust I’d been using.

“You
are
helping,” I said. “Now if we can just make people believe we’re a couple.”

“Won’t be a problem.” The steel flash of his eyes pinned me to the bed. “We’re looking out for each other.”

I wiggled free before the deep hum of his voice twisted me even more. “Right. We can keep each other company.”

“I’m here to help too. Whatever you need, I’ll get. Ice cream at midnight? Done. Pizza after practice, no problem.”

“Offer me a massage, and I’ll never leave.”

Jude cracked his fingers. “I
do
have some gifted hands.”

I didn’t doubt him, but I knew better than to let my mind wander. “Are you this nice to all your girlfriends—well, imaginary girlfriends?”

“I’m not telling you what I do with my fantasy girlfriends, that’s for damn sure.”

Didn’t matter, I was already thinking it. “Nothing I haven’t heard before.”

“You couldn’t imagine, Doc. I’ve never had any trouble with the ladies.”

“Me either. I mean…with men.” I rolled my eyes. “Though if I’d chased after women, I wouldn’t be in this mess now.”

“Don’t tease me, Rory. I’m only mortal.”

Jude led me to the kitchen and offered a bottle of water. I took it in case my loins finally caught on fire.

“You don’t think this is going to be weird?” I asked.

Jude cracked open a Gatorade. “Maybe with someone else, but not you.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re…” He shrugged. “You’re not like other women. You’re…
Rory
.”

Oh, good. I didn’t need that self-esteem anyway.

But he made a good point. I set the water down with a
thunk.