Unexpected Complication (Harlequin Super Romance) Read online

  Helplessness was not a feeling he tolerated well. He jerked to his feet and winced as pain shot through him.

  Once he recovered, he reached for her shoulders and rubbed them. Leaning forward, he whispered, “It’ll be okay, Care.” Without thinking, he brushed a kiss on the side of her head.

  He massaged her shoulders and neck until she stopped crying, enjoying touching her far too much. This wasn’t the time. There would never be a time for it.

  Carey uncovered her eyes and straightened, and Devin instinctively backed off. He picked up his glass, popped open the pill bottle and swallowed a capsule with a swig. Then he took the glass to the sink.

  Carey grabbed another napkin and blew her nose. “It doesn’t feel like it’ll be okay.”

  He couldn’t stay across the room from her for long. He felt drawn to her, needed somehow to reassure her.

  Leaning on the counter next to her, he propped his weight on an elbow and shifted until the stabbing pain in his ribs lessened. He let out a slow breath. “What if he wants to get back together, get hitched?” He strived for a casualness he didn’t feel.

  Carey took her sweet time to reply, and with every second, Devin’s muscles tensed more. Finally she shook her head slowly.

  “He won’t. He made it crystal clear he can’t stand the thought of being with one woman, much less a woman and a needy baby.”

  “But what if he does?”

  “I can’t do it, Dev. I lay awake thinking about it for hours.”

  He kept his eyes fixed on her face, tamping down his selfish relief.

  “Jerod is self-centered. Conceited. Hung up on his image. A wife and kids wouldn’t fit his lifestyle.”

  “I could’ve told you that.”

  “Oh, I think you did. I figured you were just jealous or something.”

  Devin didn’t want to think about how accurate her guess was. But in reality, Carey was only a small part of what Devin held against his cousin. It went much deeper and further back than that. “I’m still mad as hell about what he did to you.”

  She shrugged with a false nonchalance. “I saw what I wanted to see, I guess.”

  What she’d wanted to see was a devoted man who loved her. And then she’d caught him with—and all over—another woman.

  He wanted to put his arms around her, draw her close, feel her body against his. He wanted her to feel safe.

  No. You can’t touch her.

  Touching Carey was torture. And damn if it wasn’t heaven, too.

  Words would have to do.

  “I’m sorry you have to go through this, Carey.”

  She raised her eyebrows, challenged him.

  “Really. I am. But…” He backed up against the cabinets, gripping the counter with both hands. “I know you’ve got it in you to be a great mom.”

  “Thanks.” Her voice was hoarse, tired.

  He needed to put some distance between them. “It’s almost morning. We both need to sleep,” he said. “Feel free to crash in the spare bedroom.”

  “Think I will. I’m so tired the backs of my eyeballs ache.”

  He led her slowly up the stairs. At the doorway to the guest room, he flipped on the light to make sure the bed was made up for company. Seeing that it was, he forced the image of the blankets wrapping around Carey’s body from his mind. “’Night.”

  “Good night.”

  In his own bedroom, he changed into some boxers, flipped on the television out of habit and crawled carefully into bed. Ignoring the TV, he stared at the ceiling, trying to get Carey and her predicament out of his mind.

  His attraction to her was no big deal. It hadn’t been for some time. Most days it was just there in the background. Not an issue. He and every man worth his spit considered her easy on the eyes—a fantasy girl. He no longer lay awake at night pining away for her. He’d gotten over that long ago.

  Or so he’d thought.

  Now was not the time for hormones to strike. The thing was, though, it wasn’t just physical. It couldn’t be, not with Carey. Not after all these years.

  In all the time they’d been friends, he’d never seen her as vulnerable as she was tonight. Never felt such a pull to take on her problems with her.

  Tonight, it was painfully clear that he wanted Carey more than he thought.

  Shit…what if he loved her?

  Why else would he act like such a lunatic ever since hearing she was pregnant with Jerod’s kid? God damn. He’d picked a fine time to fall in love. He didn’t do love. Not now, not later.

  It didn’t matter one iota what he felt or what he wanted, though. There was no way in hell he would get any more involved with the woman who carried Jerod Mauriello’s child. Even if she was his best friend. Even if he loved her. He’d just have to get over these crazy-ass feelings. Immediately.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  AN INCESSANT, annoying noise blared into Carey’s dream. An emergency. A fire alarm.

  The doorbell.

  Opening one eye, she glanced at the clock on her nightstand. Eleven twenty-seven. Sunlight. She struggled to remember what day it was and why she wasn’t up yet.

  Oh, yeah. Devin. She’d left his house shortly after dawn to come home and she’d been sleeping ever since. Funny, she still felt as if she’d been dragged down a gravel road by a bus.

  The doorbell echoed through the house again. Throwing the covers off, Carey grumbled as she hauled her butt out of bed.

  She yanked on yoga pants under the oversized T-shirt she’d slept in and padded down the hallway to open the door. It was Monica, the feisty brunette she’d shared every detail of her life with for twenty-some years. The one she hadn’t been able to face last night. The very one she still didn’t want to confide in.

  “Hey,” Monica said, raising her brows.

  Her clothes, as usual, looked as though she’d raided the petite rack of an expensive New York boutique. From the sleeveless shirt that wrapped around her middle to the cropped pants with a large tropical print—perfect on Monica’s short frame but they’d look like a Hawaiian vacation gone bad on Carey’s long legs.

  “Is it Saturday morning?” Carey asked. Had she forgotten plans or something?

  Monica nodded with a half grin. “Did I wake you up?”

  Carey stepped back to let her friend in, feeling like a traitor. “Can’t you ever wear crappy sweats and an old T-shirt?” Carey closed the door. “Don’t answer that, Mo.”

  Monica laughed.

  Carey had to break the news right away. She’d couldn’t pretend nothing was wrong. The problem was figuring out how.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t look so good,” Monica told her.

  “Thanks. Rough night. Didn’t get much sleep.”

  Monica chuckled, apparently thinking Carey’d had too much fun.

  They dropped onto opposite ends of the sagging sofa, and Carey turned sideways, her bare feet on the faded gold cushion between them. How to tell her friend?

  “Carey? What’s going on?”

  She couldn’t look at Monica. “I have no idea how to say this…” She closed her eyes. “I found out last night I’m pregnant.”

  Silence ensued, and finally she dared a glance at Monica. Her friend’s eyes were wide and her jaw dropped. “You’re pregnant? With Jerod’s baby?”

  Carey nodded slowly. “I’m so, so sorry, Monica. I know how hard you and Kyle are trying to have a baby—”

  “Stop it. You’re…” She paused to study Carey’s face. Her shoulders slumped. “You’re not thrilled.”

  “I’m not thrilled for my own sake. I’m pissed as hell for yours.”

  “Oh, God, Carey. Don’t worry about me. What are you going to do?”

  Carey fiddled with the hem of her T-shirt. “I don’t know, really, beyond having the kid.”

  “Does Jerod know?”

  “Not yet. That’s my project for the day, I guess.”

  “You sound like you’re on your way to a funeral.”

 
“It’ll be awkward, to say the least. I haven’t spoken to him since we broke up and here I am with this.” Carey leaned forward and ran her hands through her tangled hair.

  “When are you going to tell Devin? He’ll flip.”

  “Consider him flipped. He walked in not long after I took the test last night.”

  “Oh, no. Did he give you a hard time?”

  “Pretty much. And then he wrecked his truck.”

  “What? Is he okay?”

  Carey filled her in on the rest of the details.

  “Why didn’t you call me?” Monica demanded. “Oh, I wasn’t home. Did you try?”

  Carey shook her head. “It was the middle of the night. What could you have done? He just needed a ride.”

  “I mean about the pregnancy.”

  Carey didn’t want to tell her she’d decided against it. “I wanted to be alone. I was in shock, trying to absorb it.”

  Monica nodded and neither of them spoke for a while.

  “What’d you come over for this morning?” Carey finally asked. Drop-by visits from Monica had been rare since she’d gotten married.

  “Oh…nothing much.”

  “Baloney. Tell me.”

  Monica was obviously sizing her up.

  “What?” Carey insisted. “You had a reason. What was it?”

  Monica’s brief smile turned into a grimace. She exhaled loudly as she leaned her weight on the arm of the sofa. “I came over to whine to you that another month just passed and no baby. My period showed up.”

  “Shit.” Carey closed her eyes, nearly crushed by her sense of guilt. “I’m sor—”

  “Stop it! Carey, if you apologize one more time, I’ll hurt you. I’m okay. Really. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t sting a little bit, but I’m behind you on this. Completely.”

  “How could you be okay when I waltz into your world and tell you I have exactly what you’ve been trying to get for months?”

  “I have a strong hunch you didn’t run out and get knocked up to spite me.”

  “Well, when you put it that way…” Carey stood. “Fate is one cruel SOB.”

  “You got that right.” Monica rose, then brushed her hair behind her ears. “Once you get over the shock, you’re going to be so excited, Care. Really.”

  “I don’t know. I doubt I’ll ever get past scared as hell.”

  “You will. And maybe if we’re really lucky, I’ll be pregnant soon and we can go through this together.”

  Tears flooded Carey’s eyes.

  “Oh, no. Don’t tell me, the mood swings are already starting,” Monica joked. “God help us all.”

  “You’re insane, Mo. Go home to your sexy husband. Make a baby.”

  She walked Monica to the door and they hugged.

  “Don’t worry about me,” Monica whispered. She smiled, but her expression was sad. She turned and went down the three concrete stairs to the walkway.

  As her friend of twenty-four years walked toward her black Miata, Carey could only imagine the pain she must be causing her.

  CAREY CHANGED her clothes yet again. She lacked experience in what-to-wear-to-tell-your-ex-you’re-carrying-his-baby situations. She’d never seen it covered in any of the fashion magazines.

  At first she’d gone for casual and safe, then a little dressier, back to casual, and now she pulled on some slim-fitting khaki pants and a carnation-pink sweater with a deep, cleavage-revealing V-neck over a lace-trimmed tank. She finished it off with her favorite pink heels. Pulling her hair back at her nape, she hoped she looked appealing and confident, not scared spitless.

  “What can he do to me?” she asked Snicket, short for Persnickety, the pure white Persian who acted as Carey’s shadow. “It’s not like I got pregnant on purpose.”

  He could kick her out. He could raise his voice. He could even ask her to marry him, but Carey had a hard time imagining that. At any rate, she knew she could handle whatever he doled out. It was the not knowing that was turning her into a basket case.

  The cat, who’d perched on Carey’s dresser as she worked on her hair, ambled closer and rubbed his chin on Carey’s hand.

  “Someone said petting a cat lowers a person’s blood pressure.” She stroked the cat’s soft, bony back. “Maybe I should throw you in my purse and take you with me, huh?”

  The feline lifted his nose and hopped from the dresser to the bed to curl up on Carey’s pillow.

  “Okay, I’ll take that to mean I’m on my own.” It seemed alone was becoming a recurring theme in her life. Too bad she wasn’t good at alone.

  Carey glanced in the mirror one last time. “This is as good as it’s going to get today.” The dark circles under her eyes still popped out, despite extra concealer. No surprise, after the night she’d had.

  Grabbing her purse, she left the house. It was only a matter of time before she confirmed exactly where she stood.

  A gust of wind caught the storm door and blew it wide open. The sky had darkened considerably since she’d seen Monica off. Heavy clouds hung low to the west, casting an eeriness over the neighborhood. A storm was brewing.

  Twenty minutes later, she pulled into the visitors’ parking lot in front of Jerod’s condo, a high-rise building by Des Moines standards. The first few times she’d been here, the plush lobby had impressed her. Now she barely noticed it.

  She rode the elevator to the ninth floor and found herself standing in front of his door far too soon. Gathering her confidence, she knocked. She hadn’t warned him she was coming, preferring to take a chance on whether he’d be in or not. Calling him would have raised his suspicions and given him time to prepare for her. It was better to have the element of surprise on her side.

  Her palms were sweaty. When she heard footsteps, she wished she’d thought about what she was going to say.

  Before she could blink, there he was, looking as though he expected visitors or had plans. But of course, he would. Socializing was a big part of his life. He’d told her a dozen times, schmoozing was a vital part of his career as the owner of the television station he’d inherited from his aunt and uncle, Devin’s parents.

  Dressed in crisp jeans, a white shirt and spotless brown leather shoes, he made Carey glad she’d opted for something a little dressier than her usual Saturday attire. His almost-black hair was the only part of him that showed any sign of dishevelment, but that was the norm. His hair always fell as it pleased and was the bane of his existence.

  His well-proportioned face fell almost immediately. Wariness filled his hazel eyes.

  “Carey.”

  No warmth in that greeting. In fact, she detected a distinct chill in the air.

  “Come in,” he said.

  Better than a door slammed in her face. She followed him into the entryway.

  “Hi, Jerod.”

  “What are you doing here?” he asked as he closed the door behind them.

  “We need to talk. Could I sit down?”

  His brow furrowed as he studied her for a beat, then he seemed to snap to attention, as if he’d remembered his manners. “Sure, sure.” He gestured toward the living room. “I’m surprised to see you.”

  Not nearly as surprised as he’d be to hear her news.

  “Have a seat,” he said politely as they entered the spotless room. There was no sign whatsoever of the man who’d behaved as though she walked on water mere weeks ago.

  Carey settled on the white leather love seat. Nothing had changed since she’d last been here—the furniture still looked virtually unused, the entertainment magazines on the cherry coffee table were spread in a perfect fan, and there wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere, thanks to a twice-weekly cleaning service. Carey much preferred the comfortable den down the hall.

  But comfort wasn’t her objective this afternoon.

  “How have you been?” he asked as he lowered himself onto the matching white sofa. The civility came automatically—it was ingrained in Jerod to be gracious to visitors. But still…his tone was cool, and his s
mile didn’t quite ring genuine.

  “Fine,” she answered, distracted. “Um, Jerod. I…have some news.”

  He stiffened, waiting.

  “Um, well…” She swallowed hard. Great start. “I’m…pregnant.”

  There. She held her breath and watched for his reaction. The start of an understanding nod. Widening eyes as realization began to sink in. The rise and fall of his Adam’s apple as he tried to swallow. “Oh.” Then it was his turn, she saw, to watch her closely, gauge her intentions.

  Just as she’d thought. He’d confirmed what she’d already decided. Jerod wasn’t father material. Or husband material. He also wasn’t offering to be either one, she noticed.

  “Okay,” he said, rising and wandering toward the tall window on the opposite side of the room.

  His back to her, he gazed out at the dramatic sky in silence.

  Carey settled against a cushion to give him time to absorb the shock. The moment was surreal, far, far removed from the good times they’d shared—the good times she’d mistaken for meaningful times. They were almost like strangers.

  Minutes ticked by and, at last, he turned to face her, resting his hands on the windowsill behind him. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Do? Um, I’m not sure how to answer that.” She narrowed her eyes.

  “Do you want money? Me to marry you?” His tone was so matter-of-fact, she couldn’t tell how he felt. No interest. No hostility. Nothing.

  “Would you?” She had to ask.

  “I…” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know, Carey. I guess I’m a little stunned here. Do you know how this happened?”

  “Remember the night of the party at Andrew Ingram’s house? Afterward when we went to your place?”

  “Vaguely.”

  “We were…up most of the night…” She couldn’t help blushing. “You mentioned there might’ve been a problem with the condom.”

  He nodded slowly. “I have some recollection of that.”

  Carey shrugged. “That’s my guess. The timing’s right. Almost eight weeks ago. But really, it doesn’t matter. What matters is what’s coming.”

  “I don’t suppose you’d be open to ending the pregnancy?”