leads me right into…” She groaned and bent forward.
“Val, sweetheart, can we do this later? You should get to the hospital,” Richard said calmly.
She straightened up, giving her husband an arrogant sneer. “Since I’m the one having this baby, I’ll be the one that decides when we go to the hospital. I have something to discuss with Tate.” She turned an accusing finger on Nathan. “And you might as well stick around because now it involves you too.”
“Have you called Mom and Dad yet?”
“No. They’d just worry. I’ll call when it’s over. Besides, that’s not what I wanted to talk about.”
“Sis, I’m sure whatever is bothering you, Tate and I—”
“No.” She leaned back, and Richard rubbed her shoulder, pressing his other hand into the small of her back. “Thank you, honey. No, lower. Yeah, right there.” Her gaze winged between Tate and Nathan. “I want to be absolutely clear on this. I’m over the moon that you two…finalized the terms of your deal. But that deal and anything associated with it is null and void in this house.”
Nathan started to argue, but Val held her hand up.
“Hear me out. Nathan, the kids worship you.” She looked at Tate. “And you’re my friend. For those reasons, I want both of you to promise that you will not have sex in this house while you’re caring for our children.”
Tate’s jaw dropped.
“This is nonnegotiable. No sleeping or waking up in the same bed. No mysterious absences. No kissing or cuddling in front of the TV. Strictly friends while you’re here.” Val paused. “We know your association is temporary. The kids don’t. Fielding questions from them about why Uncle Nathan and Tate are or aren’t together…well, you get the gist. What you do in your houses is your business. What you do in our house is mine.”
Richard cleared his throat, and Tate noticed Nathan’s clenched jaw.
“Come on. Say something,” Val demanded.
Val’s tone made Tate take a tentative step toward her, mindless of whether or not she’d charge. Using her most comforting smile, she said, “Of course we promise. You don’t need to worry.”
Val squeezed her eyes shut and gritted out, “Time.”
Richard checked his watch. “We’re at four minutes. Can we please go now?”
Fascinated despite her fear, Tate watched Richard patiently work through breathing techniques with Val again. When the contraction ended, he and Nathan scooted Val to the car, but not before Val handed Tate a list of instructions.
A four-page list of typed instructions. Single spaced.
When Nathan reentered the room, they stared at one another warily. Tate wondered exactly how they were supposed to pass the next few hours alone.
Good thing she packed those pajamas.
It figured that his sadistic sister would find a way to frustrate the hell out of him. Dangle Tate as the world’s tastiest treat, and just when he’d finally taken an addictive bite—yank, right out from under him.
Yet he hated to admit Val’s logic was valid. But damn, why did she pick tonight of all nights to start making sense? When she should’ve been concentrating on the impending birth of her child? An act she’d claimed was the most beautiful and powerful known to mankind?
With the possible exception of the act of making a baby.
Oh how he’d wanted to get some intense practice in on that particular act tonight with Tate.
So they couldn’t have sex until…Christ, at least two days. But as soon as Richard, Val and baby Westfield were home, he and Tate would be out of here. He could have Tate naked and crying out his name—
“Nathan?”
His guilty gaze flew to Tate’s.
Dude. You oughta focus on something besides getting laid.
Tate gnawed on her bottom lip. Her nervous glance darted upstairs. “Should we wake the kids?”
Nathan shook his head. “Rule number one. Heard of ‘let sleeping dogs lie?’ That goes double for sleeping kids. If Val would’ve wanted them awake, they’d be up, tearing the place apart.”
“I’ll defer to you on that since I haven’t had much experience with little kids.”
“Why not?”
Her shoulder lifted in a half shrug. “Ryan isn’t married and neither were any of my friends in Denver. My mother would be horrified if I confessed a burning desire to reproduce. Not a good career move for me.”
He hid his shock. “Seriously?”
Another noncommittal shrug. “What about you? Ever wish there was a Nathan Jr. trailing after you on the jobsite?”
“Sometimes. There’s a definite hole in my life that even Duke can’t fill, large as he is.” He frowned. Why was he telling her this? “But if I feel the urge to be tormented, I just borrow one of Val’s kids. She’s got plenty.”
Her blue eyes clouded. “Truthfully, that’s why I was surprised Val suggested this trade—”
“You made a trade with Val?”
“Not with Val, per se, with Richard. He did legal work for me regarding the Beautification Committee. Val came up with the babysitting gig as an alternative payment.”
Val had already asked him months ago to stay with the kids when she went into labor. But as usual, his sister’s big heart was in the right place and Tate’s pride was intact. “Trust me. Richard got the better end of the deal. The kids are a handful.”
“Then I’m glad you’re here, Nathan, even if we can’t…”
“Me too.” He felt a stirring in his belly that had little to do with sexual desire.
They stared at each other across the wide expanse of the Westfields’ great room. Tate rocked on her heels, apparently studying the opulent space. “Where am I sleeping?”
“Take the guest bedroom upstairs. I’ll crash on the couch in the family room.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “I doubt I’ll sleep until Richard calls anyway.”
“You’ll wake me? Right away?”
He nodded, shoving aside the immediate visions of a naked, sleepy Tate stretching her arms above her head, exposing those pert nipples as the satin sheet slipped down…
Man. Get a grip.
Tate was dynamite. He was a match. An explosive combination they couldn’t set off right now.
She lifted her bag. “Good night, Nathan.”
“Night,” he muttered to her disappearing back.
The next morning a sharp knee nicked his groin then scored a direct hit in his stomach. A wet, smacking kiss on his forehead followed. He peeled one eye open and grunted.
Chelsea kissed his nose. “Wake up, wake up! Tate made breakfast!”
Nathan yawned. “Chels, I’m tired. Go away.” He put the pillow over his head.
“But it’s waffles! And not the toaster kind. Come on.” When he didn’t budge, Chelsea pounced on his calves, yanked up the blanket and tickled his bare feet.
He jerked her to his chest and blew raspberries on her tummy until she screamed “Uncle!”
“No fair,” she said between giggles and gasping breaths.
“Sure it is.” He nuzzled her soft blonde hair, momentarily lost in a burst of love for Val’s troublesome daughter. “That’s what happens to little princesses that disturb papa bear’s beauty sleep.”
Chelsea sighed. “You mixed them up again, Uncle Nathan.”
“Made-up fairy tales are more fun.”
“Nuh-uh.” She leaned forward and whispered, “Don’t tell Mommy, but my favorite book is the one you gived me for Christmas with the Indian stories. Especially the stories about Iktomi, the trickster. Will you read it to me later?”
“You bet.” He stood. “Come on, short stuff, let’s have some waffles.”
She raced ahead while Nathan dragged his feet, trying to work out the kinks from sleeping on the couch. Not that he’d gotten much sleep. When Richard called at two a.m. and said Val had undergone an emergency C-section, falling back asleep had been nearly impossible. Even after Richard assured him Val and the newest baby Westfield were fine.
<
br /> Chattering voices and the rich smell of coffee and bacon lured him to the kitchen. But once inside the arched doorway, he froze.
Pure longing clouded his senses, making it difficult to breathe. Or think. He just wanted.
Tate looked completely at ease, laughing with the twins while she scurried around the enormous kitchen with Hannah perched on a hip.
Blood roared in his ears and through his body, but for once not straight to his groin. Nathan wanted her. But not naked in his bed. In a far more intimate, far more dangerous way. Instead of wanting Tate tangled in his sheets, he wanted to step into this life and make it his. Theirs.
That thought jarred him to his core.
He imagined standing behind her, kissing the nape of her neck while she cooked. She’d be wearing his T-shirt, one that still carried the scent of their shared passion. Romantic notion indeed, the sarcastic part of his brain scoffed. But his jumbled emotions didn’t have a blessed thing to do with sex.
Therein was the problem because that was all Tate wanted.
Sure Nathan could make her ache. He could even make her beg. But what would it take to make her completely his?
A move to Denver.
Not in the cards. As he mulled over these surprising revelations, he closed the last few feet to the counter. Was this feeling…love?
He shook his head. Hard. Nah. Just residual lust.
But when Tate gifted him a smile filled with sunshine, he understood his heart was giving him trouble, not testosterone.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” she said brightly. “Coffee?”
“Sure.” He reached out to stroke a finger down Hannah’s cheek, but she burrowed into Tate’s shoulder. “What? No kisses for Uncle Nathan today, Hannah Banana?”
Hannah made a small disgruntled sound, pulling the corner of the purple lace blanket and her thumb into her pouting mouth.
“Somebody’s missing momma this morning, huh, sweetie?” Tate kissed the red-gold crown of Hannah’s head.
Nathan’s feeling of longing increased tenfold. For not having much experience with kids, Tate had worked wonders with Hannah, who up until this morning was very much a momma’s girl. What did Hannah sense in Tate that Tate herself was unsure she possessed?
Tate’s voice broke into his strange reverie. “The kids are anxious to hear about…”
Nathan snapped back to attention. “You haven’t told them?”
“No. I thought it’d be more appropriate coming from you.” She gave him a look that was sheepish and completely endearing.
Damn. This had been simpler when it was only about romance and winning the landscaping competition. How could he alternate between wanting nothing and everything with her? Had to be Val’s pregnancy hormones lingering in the house. Contagious, dangerous emotions, wreaking havoc on his senses. Normally these ideas never crossed his mind.
Then again nothing about the situation with Tate was normal.
She stood on tiptoe, reaching for a cup. Her straining calf muscles distracted him for a second before he said, “Let me.” Pressing his front to her back, much in the same intimate manner he’d done last night, he reached into the cupboard and snagged a mug. Her breath caught at the unexpected contact, just soft and feminine enough to stir his loins. He nearly dropped the cup on poor Hannah’s head.
“Thanks.” Tate stepped aside, murmuring to Hannah and pouring thick batter in the waffle iron.
Chelsea demanded, “So. Tell us. Boy or girl?”
Nathan sipped his coffee slowly, knowing it’d drive his niece crazy. When Chelsea sighed with exasperation, he grinned. “Girl.”
“Yes!” She played hopscotch across the tile, raced over and pulled Hannah from Tate’s arms. She danced Hannah around in a sped-up version of ring-around-the-rosy. “We win! More girls than boys.”
Tanner and Tyler exchanged a glum look and a low five before Tanner scoffed, “So? We’re the biggest. We’re boys. We get to do everything first.”
Tyler sneered, “Did Mom give her some stupid girly name?”
“She’s not stupid. Boys are stupid,” Chelsea said.
“’Tupid, ’tupid,” Hannah mimicked.
“That’s enough,” Nathan warned. “Your sister’s name is Maddie. I know for a fact your mom doesn’t let you guys use the word ‘stupid’, so knock it off.” He rubbed his hands together with glee. “Now where are those waffles?”
Properly chastised, the kids focused on their food for about thirty seconds…before starting in again.
Tate slid a steaming waffle in front of him. The sweet batter tempted him until he got a whiff of her bare arm. The scent of ripened apricots clung to her. He imagined nuzzling the bend in her elbow, searching for the source of that elusive scent. A peaked breast brushed his shoulder as she refilled his coffee, bouncing him back to reality. A harsh reality, where there was no touching at all. Her husky morning voice murmured a low apology in his ear, sending shivers down his spine.
Living through the next few hours, where even innocent contact held promise, would probably kill him. Glancing up, he managed a rough, “Thanks.”
“No problem.” She smiled sweetly. A little too sweetly in his opinion. His eyes narrowed when she slowly moistened her lips. “Anything else I can do for you?”
Aha. He recognized that challenging expression. She had purposely rubbed her breast on him as a reminder that he couldn’t touch her, even when she was within arm’s reach. So…Tate wanted to play. Good. But how far could they take it?
He smiled. “Not right this second.”
Another round of waffles disappeared before she shimmied into the chair next to him. Her thigh unexpectedly brushed his, sending his knife clattering to the plate. She smirked. “What’s on the agenda today?”
“Who cares? We’re in charge, so we get to decide.”
“Cool!” Tyler said. “Can we play cowboys and Indians?”
“You wish,” Nathan mumbled around a piece of bacon.
Tate gave Nathan a wry smile. “I’m guessing you get to be the Indian?”
“Always. Seems they forget they’ve got Sioux blood too.”
“Then what are we gonna do?” Chelsea demanded. “Let’s play princesses.”
Tyler and Tanner looked horrified.
“I think we should hang outside and play some games.” He gave Tate a pointed look. “You like to play games, don’t you, Tate?”
“What kind of games?” she asked with a touch of wariness.
Nathan shook the canister of whipped cream, squirting a generous line on the waffle square perched on his fork. With the tip of his tongue, he swirled the whiteness into a peak, then he sucked it clean. He offered a casual shrug, even when his stomach tightened in anticipation. “Something new, I think.” He sprayed another dollop, slowly licking off the sweetness with long strokes of his tongue.
Her eyes darkened. Her breath quickened. Nathan noticed she wasn’t nearly as confident as she’d been a minute ago.
“I’ll warn you,” she said. “I don’t like to lose. I won’t play fair if it means I have a shot at winning.”
“Sportsmanlike conduct be damned?”
“You’re on.”
He grinned before he popped the waffle in his mouth. “Let the games begin.”
Tate contemplated the kind of games Nathan had in mind while she loaded the dishwasher.
True, she’d purposely brushed her breast over his shoulder. But only because he’d sneakily pressed his groin into her behind, disguised as “helping” her retrieve a coffee cup.
They’d promised Val no hot kisses. No lingering looks and no sex.