Unexpected Complication (Harlequin Super Romance) Read online

  What Jerod had seen in her was obvious. Carey collected male attention like an eight-track tape player collected dust. She was a walking contradiction. She looked doll-like, innocent, with long lashes and creamy skin. Yet she was sexy as hell at the same time. Model-long legs, silky blond hair and deep, sapphire-blue eyes a man could ache to see cloud over in lust.

  There was no question in his mind about a man wanting her. Devin had for as long as he’d known her—or almost. The exception was the short period when he’d thought Lisa somebody—he couldn’t even remember her name anymore—had more to offer and he’d walked away from Carey to chase her. He’d regretted that ever since, and had never dared mention how he felt to Carey. He’d had his chance and ruined it.

  What tripped Devin up was that she had gotten so carried away with such an egotistical bore.

  Carey was one of the least practical people he knew. Her tendency to do things on a whim made him cringe. She’d gone out with her share of assholes, but she didn’t usually stick with them for more than a couple of dates. Normally she was wary of men, which she claimed was because of her mom. Why she couldn’t have been wary around Jerod was beyond Devin.

  Rage propelled him off the counter and out of the bathroom. He wanted her to show him how this whole thing made sense. Better yet, to tell him it was a cruel joke.

  Devin tapped on her bedroom door but, as he’d expected, she didn’t answer. Opening it a crack, he peered in. The only light came from the lamp on her nightstand, if it could be called that. It was like a lava lamp made from an antique gum ball machine. Blue globs floated where gum balls should have been. The bubbling light was just bright enough for him to see Carey lying in bed, facing him, stroking a cat curled against her.

  “Can I come in?” he asked, his voice tightly controlled.

  “Why not?” She sounded resigned.

  He lowered himself to the foot of her girly double bed, inches from her feet. The fluffy, disgruntled feline his movement bounced from the cocoon between Carey’s thighs and stomach let out a yowl, and Devin scowled at the animal before turning his attention to its owner.

  “Why, Carey?”

  “Why what?” She kept her hand protectively on the cat’s back.

  “Why anything? Why Jerod? Why didn’t you use something?” His voice grew louder with each question.

  Carey sprang upright. “We did use something. Give me some credit, would you?”

  He couldn’t muster sympathy for her bad luck. Not when she’d played the odds with Mr. Smooth. Not when the urge to punch something pulsed through him. “Does he know yet?”

  She lay back on the pillow and stared straight ahead. “No. I’ll tell him…sometime. I haven’t figured it out yet.”

  “That should be interesting.”

  She whipped her head toward him. “Why do you say that?”

  “What’s not interesting about telling the man of your dreams you’re carrying his child?” He couldn’t stifle his sarcasm, even though he knew he was being a jerk.

  “He’s not the—” She stopped abruptly, shaking her head. “Devin, I don’t need this. I’m upset enough without you railing at me about how stupid I am.”

  Devin bit down on a smart-ass response. He wasn’t in the right mind-set to try to help her, couldn’t seem to extinguish his anger. His own overreaction ticked him off even more.

  He lay back on the bed, stretching out along the white footboard. A lead weight settled at the bottom of his gut.

  Eyes closed, his mind jumped to an image of Carey and Jerod making a happy family with their baby. Nauseating. Maddening. And completely wrong. They could never make it work.

  The mattress shifted slightly and his eyes popped open to find a different mangy animal hovering inches above his face, staring him down. “Get lost, cat.”

  “Come here, Snicket,” Carey said in a sickening, syrupy voice to the long-haired fuzz ball. “I suppose you think this is just what I deserve.” She directed the last to Devin in a tone that held no hint of sweetness.

  He bolted upright. “Hell, no. I think it’s exactly what you don’t deserve and it could’ve been avoided.”

  “So it’s my fault? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “No, that’s not what I’m saying. And before you put more words in my mouth, it’s not his fault either. But you were playing with fire, Carey. What’d you expect?”

  Damn! He wasn’t sure where this cruel streak was coming from. All he knew was that he had the overwhelming urge to verbally attack. Her. Jerod. Anyone within earshot.

  He ran his hand down his face, wishing he could take everything back. “Carey, I’m sorry. You need support and here I am being a bastard.”

  The scowl on her face signaled her total agreement with his assessment. Devin gritted his teeth. He needed to finish this conversation without another flash of anger.

  “So…you think you’ll keep the baby?”

  Surprise registered on Carey’s face. “Yeah.” She gave him a single, determined nod. “I’m having the baby.” Her answer didn’t shock him. Carey had never been one to shy away from consequences. He just hoped she wasn’t dumb enough to take the man with the baby. He hated for her to be alone raising a kid, but he hated even more to think she could saddle herself with a man who would never measure up.

  “What if Jerod feels differently?”

  Carey sprung off the bed, sending both cats darting from the room. “Dammit, Devin, I don’t care! I’m having this baby.”

  This time, his comment had been innocent. He hadn’t been trying to make her mad; he’d genuinely wondered if she’d considered the possibility.

  If he couldn’t make her feel any better, he could at least stop making things worse. “I should leave, Carey. I’m not helping you at all.”

  She leaned against the doorjamb, her eyes penetrating his. “That’d probably be best.”

  Devin stood to go, pausing next to her. He felt the urge to say something right, to help her somehow, but he didn’t know what.

  Moments later, he stepped back into the rain. He breathed in the smell of wet earth, wishing the weather could dampen his animosity as he lumbered down the stairs. From the looks of the water running along the deserted street, it’d been pouring the entire time he’d been inside. He let the drops beat down on him, heedless. With each step, Carey’s reality hammered at him.

  Pregnant.

  Jerod’s kid.

  Reaching his truck, he hopped in, flung the gear shift in Reverse and gunned backward down the driveway almost before he could fasten his seat belt.

  He hit the speed dial for Monica, hoping she could come over and hold Carey’s hand or…something. She needed someone who could comfort her—someone who could handle her news a hell of a lot better than he had.

  No answer. Damn. He’d failed Carey completely, and now thanks to his insensitivity—or was it oversensitivity?—she was alone.

  He shut the phone and sped past the turn to his house, unable to stand the thought of going home.

  Damn it all. Carey was in a huge fix, no matter how Jerod reacted. If he told her to get lost, she was on her own with a baby. If he married her, she was doubly screwed, stuck with a baby and an asshole. Frankly, he doubted Jerod would want marriage, but then what did he know?

  He’d always considered himself to be the exact opposite of his cousin, but maybe he and Jerod were more alike than he’d thought. They’d both let Carey down.

  Devin still had moments when he regretted like hell allowing his teenage hormones to take over. He and Carey had gravitated to each other ever since Monica had introduced them. When Monica used to flit off to her nightly family dinner, Devin and Carey would hit the fast-food drive-through and pick up a movie. One night, their closeness had led to tentative kisses. They’d spent all of a month as more than friends, but Carey had always drawn the line at anything more than kissing.

  Devin, being a normal, lust-driven teenaged boy and faced with Lisa what’s-her-name, the new girl who
oozed sexiness, had gently told Carey they were better as just friends.

  Carey had seemed as relieved as she was pissed off. She hadn’t given him the time of day for a good two weeks, which was as long as it took for Lisa to give Devin a taste of what he wanted and then dump him.

  The only thing Devin had over Jerod was that he’d let go of Carey before picking up with someone else. Big goddamn deal. Not only had he treated Carey badly and incurred her brother’s eternal wrath, it was probably the single largest screwup of his thirty years.

  And now Jerod had a claim on Carey far deeper than the friendship Devin had with her. He closed his eyes in an attempt to block the urge to smash something.

  The whole damn city closed in on him. He needed space and air…and a hold on his blasted emotions, which were raging like a confused adolescent.

  He jammed his foot down on the accelerator, giving little thought to the rain, which had slowed to a steady cadence on the windshield. His truck fishtailed, and belatedly he realized he was going too fast.

  CHAPTER THREE

  THE PHONE JOLTED Carey out of a restless slumber, and she glanced at the clock. Ten till three. In the morning. Who in the…?

  “Hello?” She was instantly alert.

  “It’s me.”

  Devin. What did he want…to rant about Jerod some more?

  “Look, I’m sorry about earlier, Carey. I was a jerk.”

  “No argument here. But you could’ve waited till morning to apologize.”

  She’d put him out of her mind shortly after he’d left. She had every right to be angry with him, but frankly, compared to being pregnant, Devin’s idiocy was small potatoes.

  “I know you’re not in the mood to help me, but I could use a lift from the hospital. I wrecked the truck.”

  She sat up straight, concerned despite her raw feelings. “A wreck? Are you okay? What happened?”

  “I’m okay, just bruised some ribs. The truck’s not so good though. Not that I could drive anyway, as much pain meds as they pumped in me.”

  “I’ll be there in a few minutes.” Vengeance wasn’t her strong suit.

  She asked which hospital before hanging up, then turned on the light to search for some clothes. She threw on old jeans and a black T-shirt, her favorite hooded sweatshirt and comfy sneaker-style mules. She paused in the bathroom to check in the mirror. Not much she could do about the death-warmed-over look, but she ran a brush through her hair and pulled it up with a band.

  Fifteen minutes later, she pulled her yellow Volkswagen Beetle into the parking lot closest to the ER entrance. She hurried to the door, which was lit brightly enough for a blind man to see from a mile away. The sound of trickling water was everywhere, now that the heavy rain had finally subsided. The chill, damp air made her shiver, and she longed to put her worn-out body back in the warmth of her bed.

  Devin sat on a cushioned bench against a brick wall across from the doorway.

  For once he didn’t look so hot. His face was uncharacteristically pale, and his eyes drooped. His hair was a shaggy mess. But he was otherwise intact. Carey couldn’t deny her relief. Just because he was an idiot didn’t mean she wanted him wrapped around a tree or laid up in a hospital bed.

  “Hey,” he said as she approached, weariness—and probably pain medicine—making his voice lower, huskier than usual.

  “You look like hell. Let’s go.”

  “Have to sign out first. They want to know I’m not driving. I need to get a prescription filled on the way home, too.” Carefully, he got to his feet and pointed to a small, dark-haired woman on the other side of a large window.

  They took care of the paperwork and walked out to the car in silence. After she unlocked the doors, Devin moved the passenger seat all the way back, and then gingerly lowered himself in. “I wish you’d get a real car.”

  “You should be worshipping this little car. It’s saving your butt right now.”

  He exhaled slowly, as if in pain, and looked at her. “Yeah. You’re right.”

  Carey started the car and pulled out. “What happened, Devin?”

  He tried to take a deep breath, then grimaced. “Got up close and personal with a large oak tree.”

  “You ran into a tree?” She couldn’t help it—she chuckled. “The guy who lectured me on birth control ran his truck into a tree?”

  “Yeah, well.”

  “Was anyone else involved?”

  “Just me and the tree. And the truck. I’d bet money it’s totaled.”

  She glanced sideways at him. Devin was no speed-limit stickler, but he wasn’t reckless, either. That was her role. She wondered what the real story was. “Good thing you’ve got money to put on it.”

  “Not as much as you’d like to think,” he muttered.

  Carey frowned and decided to ignore the comment. “Where’d you meet up with this tree?”

  “Outside of town, couple of miles from Grand.”

  “What were you doing way out there?”

  She felt his glare even as she kept her gaze on the road. “Driving.” His tone dissuaded her from asking more questions.

  After driving through the all-night pharmacy for pain pills, Carey detoured into a fast-food drive-through and ordered enough to feed a family of four.

  A few minutes later, she pulled into Devin’s driveway. “Home, sweet bachelor pad,” she said.

  The two-story house was a showcase of the latest domestic technology. He’d built it a couple of years ago after selling the house he’d inherited from his parents, and while he didn’t give much thought to the decor, gadgets were his pride and joy. In addition to all the electronics inside, he had an inground pool set in a backyard paradise. Carey loved to tease him about his testosterone-driven dream home.

  She didn’t actually know how much money Devin had, but she knew his parents had been fairly flush when they’d been killed in that car accident. She suspected Devin had plenty to live on, despite his desperation to make his company a success.

  They went through his front door and down the hall way past the formal living room to the kitchen, which was more lived-in, with a sloppily folded newspaper on the bar and a few dirty coffee mugs in the sink. Carey and Monica had helped him choose the custom off-white cabinets and brown-and-black granite counter-top. Not to mention the floor tile—a neutral taupe—and the stainless-steel fixtures. There was more space in this room than Devin could use in a decade—his cooking skills were as lacking as Carey’s—but it looked like a gourmet kitchen, mostly thanks to Monica’s expertise.

  “When can you take a pain pill?” Carey asked as she set the hefty bag of food on the kitchen bar.

  Devin glanced at the clock on the range. “Half an hour.” He turned on the small light over the sink, took two glasses out of the cupboard. “Drink?” He longed for a beer but figured it wouldn’t sit well on top of the pain-killers.

  “Sure. H2O on the rocks, please.”

  He filled the glasses from the dispenser on the freezer door and made his way to the bar where she sat. Sliding onto one of the raised stools was agony.

  “Why don’t you go to bed?” she asked.

  “I want some fries.” He stared at her expectantly. “I assume with all you ordered you’re planning on sharing. Besides, I need to stay up for that pill.”

  She nodded sympathetically. “I’ll wait with you. Wasn’t getting much sleep anyway.” She opened the bag, handed him an order of French fries and spread the rest of the food—a double cheeseburger, a box of chicken nuggets and another large fries—in front of her.

  Devin chuckled, shaking his head at her obvious appetite.

  Examining her face, he noticed her eyes were red, with deep shadows under them. Her hair hung limply in a ponytail, and her clothes were wrinkled. She looked exhausted. Understandably. He vowed not to make her feel bad again. “Stress will do that.” He reached for the saltshaker on the counter and dumped some on his fries.

  “Devin,” she said between bites, “we need to ta
lk about my situation.”

  His taste for French fries suddenly disappeared. He finished chewing what had become rubbery and tasteless, then forced it down and took a long gulp of water.

  He could do this. He could sit here and listen to whatever she had to say about Lover Boy, and he could refrain from spouting off with the wrong thing again. He’d do it if he had to bite his tongue off.

  “What about it?” he asked warily.

  “I know you don’t care for Jerod.”

  He nodded once, thinking what an understatement that was.

  “I don’t know what’s going to happen, but…” Carey paused and swallowed hard. “It would really help if you’d keep your opinion to yourself.” Her voice squeaked out the end of the sentence.

  Devin ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated again with the lack of control he’d shown earlier. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. Really.” He grabbed the empty food bag and absently crushed it into a tight wad. “Did you talk to him yet?”

  She turned her head, eyes brimming with moisture. “No way.” A single tear slid down her cheek. “I’m dreading it.”

  Sympathy tugged at him, squeezed his chest till it hurt. He stroked his thumb across her cheek to wipe the tear away, wishing he knew what to do to make her feel better.

  “Carey.” He patted her leg awkwardly. “It’ll work out.”

  She shook her head adamantly.

  “It will. Somehow it will.” As he watched her wipe her eyes with a napkin, he realized he wanted that for her as much as she did. As long as it didn’t involve marrying Jerod.

  Carey let out an indelicate sniffle. Tears streamed down her face.

  “Damn.” He was disgusted at himself for causing her tears. “I’m trying to help, Care, not make you cry.”

  She covered her face and sank forward to lean her elbows on the counter. Devin propped his arms on the edge, too, and tried to conceive of what she must be going through, what must be running through her head. He imagined preparing for parenthood, caring for a baby day and night, committing to that child’s well-being for the rest of his life. Hell, no. Couldn’t do it. Couldn’t begin to fathom it. Just trying made him antsy.