The Best Man's Baby (10 page)

He missed her. He missed the feel of her body, the warmth of her skin. The night in the hotel room had been so short, and the imprint of Claire in his mind was vividly clear. He heard and felt her take a shuddering breath, and knew she was trying to keep it all together. It only made him want to hold her tighter. He’d never been around long enough to offer anyone comfort, but all of that seemed so long ago, and when it came to Claire it was instinctive, reactive. Like how his heart pumped faster, and his senses hummed louder and moved into overdrive at the sight of her.

“I think I’m starting to get you,” Jake whispered, his mouth brushing against her hair, the clean, floral smell making him want to stay right there, all day.

“I’m actually a very complicated person. I’m sure you don’t get me at all,” she said, shaking her head against his chest, not letting him go.

“You put on this whole perfect act, like you’ve got it all together. You run a successful business, you’ve got a house, you’re a force to be reckoned with. Hell, you even had enough guts to stab my burger with a pregnancy stick in public. But it’s all a front, isn’t it?”

He felt her body tense against his, but she didn’t say anything. “You’ve got this entire other side to you and I had no idea, and I’m starting to realize that walking out on you that night hurt you far more than you let on.”

“No, no, you’ve got me all wrong,” she said, leaning back in his arms. He noticed she didn’t try to pull away from him, though.

“Really, I got it all wrong?” His eyes fell to her lips. He thought they looked even better without lipstick on them, natural and full.

She nodded. “You’re thinking because you’ve seen me cry or be emotional lately you’re the cause of it. It’s the pregnancy hormones. Seriously, I never cry and yet in the last few weeks, it’s all I do. So, nope, has nothing to do with you.”

“What happened at the doctor’s office today?” He watched her reaction closely.

She darted her eyes away from his. “There’s probably something else I should tell you before we get to that.”

Jake stared at her face for a moment. He had no idea what else she could possibly come up with now. He gave her a nod. “I’m listening.”

“I told my mother today.”

He let his head fall back on his shoulders as he stared up at the ceiling. He squeezed his eyes shut and counted to ten.

“I just didn’t want her to hear it from anyone else,” she said softly.

He looked down at her. “I wanted to be a part of that.”

“You’re right. You did say that, and I’m sorry.”

She knocked the wind right out of his argument, because the last thing he expected was an apology. He’d thought there would be arguing, justifying, maybe a few tears. Not an apology. “Thank you. I think if we’re going to make any of this work, we need to be open with each other. You need to tell me what’s going on,” he said gruffly.

She bit her lower lip and looked at his shoulder. He reached out to tuck a wayward strand of silky brown hair behind her ear. Touching her felt completely natural, as if he was meant to do this, and as his finger grazed her earlobe he pictured himself kissing it, taking the soft flesh in his mouth and nibbling, sucking, hearing her gasp with pleasure again…

“Can I ask you for something?” she said suddenly, and he found himself lost in the feel of her. And, yeah, right about now she could ask for anything.

“Of course.”

“I want a ride,” she said softly, brown eyes pleading.

He swallowed hard, an image popping into his head—somehow he didn’t think they were referring to the same thing. Why did she insist on speaking in riddles? “Pardon?”
“A ride. I want a ride on the back of your Harley.” She leaned away from him, her smile widening as his vanished. Jake stared at her.

“I was asking you about—”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Details, details.”

“Hardly.”

“Please take me for a ride,” she said again, this time her hands squeezing his waist.

“No way in hell am I taking you on my bike.”

She smiled sweetly, clearly unimpressed by his refusal. “Please.”

He shook his head again. “No.”

“Why not?”

“It’s too dangerous for a pregnant woman.”

She groaned out loud. “Drive slow.”

“I don’t know how.”

“Jake.”

“Pregnant women don’t ride on motorcycles, especially not mine.”

“Drive me home. I live two minutes from here. I’ll tell you everything if you just take me for a ride.”

He groaned, running his fingers through his hair.. He looked at her, into those eyes that he just knew would be his undoing.

…

Claire couldn’t stop smiling as Jake grumbled, snapping his helmet on. He had already triple-checked hers. He gave her a glare before hopping on the bike. She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his waist. A delicious shiver ran through her body. How many years had she dreamed of this? So blackmailing the future father of her child with the promise that she would reveal all the details behind her eating disorder wasn’t exactly the way she envisioned this scene, but she was on the bike nonetheless.

A part of her was ready to tell Jake everything. If there was any chance for them, if Jake showed signs of the man she had always hoped he’d be, then she’d find out after she told him. But she wasn’t just smiling about the bike victory. His words inside her floral shop made her finally think maybe he felt something more for her than guilty obligation. The way he’d looked at her, his touch, his words, had reached her and made her think maybe her early instincts had been right about him.

He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Hold on,” he said gruffly. He pulled out onto Red River’s main street and Claire waited, and waited. She waited for him to accelerate, but it didn’t happen. She could have walked faster. She squeezed his waist, and it was as rock-hard as she remembered.

“Jake!”

“What?”

“Drive!”

“I’m not going faster than this, baby. You wanted a ride, this is it.”

“I thought I told you I don’t like being referred to as baby,” she said, ignoring just how good it sounded coming from his lips. How was it possible the man could make the word
baby
sound so…sexy?

“Well, if I were your husband maybe I’d consider it, but since you refused to marry me, I don’t really care,” he yelled over his shoulder.

She was about to tell him what she thought of that logic when she glanced over and spotted Eunice Jacobs passing them, waving. “Do you realize Mrs. Jacobs just passed us in her Mini Cooper? Better go faster, buddy, or she’ll tell the whole town you drive slower than an old lady,” she said as close to his ear as she could get.

“Hold on,” he said and she felt him accelerate, the low, guttural growl of the motorcycle humming through her body. Her heart pounded and she laughed with delight as they sped over the lift bridge, passing Mrs. Jacobs. She let the memory of this morning go, let thoughts of lunch with her mother fly away, and just reveled in being in this moment with Jake. He didn’t go very fast, but fast enough that she felt the exhilarating rush of the cool wind and the turns. He indulged her and drove through some of the quiet back roads of Red River, taking the long way to her home. She breathed in the cool spring air, the smell of water, of the blooming flowers, of Jake’s leather jacket.

They reached her house a few minutes later. Jake got off the bike first, removing his helmet. Something had changed. As they rode toward her house the playfulness breezed away, and a quiet electricity had started humming between them. She knew he felt it. It was in his eyes, in his face, in the way he moved. Claire took off her helmet and handed it to him, and when her eyes locked with his, a spark ignited and a slow burn started. He held her hand and helped her off the bike.

She didn’t know what to say, and didn’t really want to say anything as they walked up to the house in silence, Jake’s fingers still intertwined with hers. With every step closer they took to her house, she felt it was a step closer to letting Jake in. She felt a nervous, excited energy propel her forward. She caught the faint tremble in her fingers as she unlocked her front door, feeling the heat emanating from Jake, feeling the presence of his body deliciously close to hers.

They stepped into the quiet house, dusk settling in, making everything seem more mysterious, more forbidden. She turned around to look at him. His eyes shone with the desire that reminded her of their night together, the lines of his face hard, his lips sensual as he stared at her. Claire walked toward him, dropping her purse on the tiled entry with a thud that seemed to echo in the quiet house. She closed the door with the palm of her hand, her arm brushing against his arm. He caught her hand in his before she could lower it. She gasped as he brought her hand up to his mouth, turning it so his lips met the palm of her hand.

Her hand went to her stomach as a fluttery feeling gripped her. And the moment she touched her stomach, everything stopped. In that split second, everything changed. Jake’s eyes went from hers to her stomach. She felt her heart begin to pound with a throbbing, deafening ache as she watched emotions play across his face. Every line in his powerful frame was tense, rigid. His face was unmoving, his jaw clenched. And then his gaze went from her stomach to her eyes, and she felt as though her entire soul had just been lit to life for the first time.

And in his face, in the sheen in his eyes, the lines beside his firm mouth, she saw who he really was, and what this baby meant for him. And if he asked her to marry him again, right now, she wouldn’t be able to refuse. Because right now, Jake Manning was the man she always dreamed he was, deep down, beneath his playboy facade.
This
was the Jake she thought existed.

“May I?”

She never imagined that a man so tough could sound so heartbreakingly tender. Numbly, she nodded, and watched as his large, warm hand covered hers on her stomach, and then he looked up at her. His gentle touch reached her down to her soul. Her mouth opened but she still couldn’t say anything. He held her gaze, his blue eyes sparkling with emotion.

“We made a baby together,” he whispered, his voice sounding as though it came from somewhere deep inside, revealing a part of him that was new to her. His hand stayed still, its warmth permeating her womb.

“I’m sorry,” he said. Claire had a hard time breathing; the air felt heavy, thick, hot. Her hands prickled with the need to reach out and touch the stubble of his five o’clock shadow.

“For what?” she asked softly.

“I’m sorry for leaving you that night at the hotel,” he said and his voice was filled with such regret, Claire felt the memory of him leaving slowly disintegrate. All she saw was him now—gentle, caring, loving.

“Then why did you?”

His eyes glittered with an emotion she’d never seen, his body unmoving, his hand still on her.

“I was scared because that was the best night of my life, because when I made love to you I felt like I knew you and you knew me. Like we connected.” He squeezed his eyes shut for a second before looking at her again. She didn’t breathe or move.

“I felt like I was coming home,” he finally said roughly. “And then I think about how your first time was with your back pressed up against a wall. You deserved so much better than that, better than me. If I had known…”

Claire swallowed. Her mouth was dry and her heart was rattling against her chest. “If I had known you were a virgin I—”

“You never would have gone into that room with me?”

He shook his head. “I could never have said no to you, but I would have done things completely differently.”

Each word came out sounding like a caress, as his eyes went back and forth from her lips to her eyes.

“If I had known it was your first time I would have started like this.” Jake bent his head, his voice low and gruff, and captured her mouth in the slowest, sweetest kiss. He was an amazing kisser, gentle, but his lips were firm as they pressed against hers. She relished the feel of his mouth, and his words were poetry to her ears. She moved her hands slowly up his chest, then down, feeling his muscles twitch beneath her touch, and then she wrapped them around his waist, feeling his chest against her breasts. When she melted into him, sweet turned erotic, and mouths opened wider and their tongues began a whirlwind of a dance that would only lead them one place.

His hand plunged into her hair and his other hand grasped her hip, tugging her closer, so she was pressed intimately against his hard arousal. She needed to touch him. Claire felt his muscles tense as her hands roamed up his body. He lifted his head for a moment to look at her, and when she tugged at his neck a low moan escaped his lips before he angled his head and claimed what was the last of her control. She learned who he was without words as she tasted him, knew him as his lips ground over hers. She learned who Jake the man was, not Jake the fantasy of her youth.

His hands moved restlessly up and down her spine and then roamed her sides, finally resting at the undersides of her breasts. Her breath caught and she pulled her mouth away from him, looking up and seeing his blue eyes dark with passion.

“I want you, Claire, God, I want you,” he said harshly and then claimed her mouth fiercely, possessively, and she felt his hands move up to cup her breasts. She heard herself whimper against his lips as her nipples pressed against the palms of his hands. Suddenly his hands were gone and then they were at her waist, and his lips were pressing hot, moist kisses against her bare skin. She knew she was slowly drowning in the essence of Jake. She had to lean against the door for support, and he braced her with his body as he deftly unbuttoned her blouse, each graze of his knuckles against her breasts almost causing her to cry out with the sweet agony. He pulled away slightly and she felt his searing gaze as his eyes wandered over her body in her lacy bra. She forced herself not to let any doubt or self-consciousness ruin this moment for her.

She needed to feel him, to touch his bare skin. She held his gaze, her intentions, desires, spoken silently as she flicked open each button of his shirt. And with a courage she wished she’d had that first night, she bent her head and kissed every inch of skin she exposed. His chest was rock-hard and his flesh sizzling beneath her lips. When she arrived at the defined, flat planes of his stomach, he groaned harshly and took her head in his hands, raising her up to take her mouth in his, crushing her against him.