He stood and sat beside her.
She pushed back against the arm of the couch. “Why don’t you go back and watch the game?”
He gave her a long look. “I’d rather watch you.” He scooted closer.
Her stomach did flip-flops. She needed distance. Since she was curled into the corner of the couch she had nowhere to go.
“What are you doing?” she snapped at him, trapped by his big body.
He grasped the bottom of her sweatshirt and lifted it. She batted at his big hand. “Stop that!”
He captured her hand with his free one and continued to pull her sweatshirt up. “I want to see.”
She tried to pull her hand away without disturbing the baby. “Stop it.”
She didn’t want him watching. It was too…sensual. She didn’t need those feelings awakened. They led to dangerous memories.
He gripped her hand more firmly and his expression hardened. “I’ve already missed at least three months. Don’t deny me this.”
Guilt overcame her and she stopped struggling. He let go of her and she let her hand fall back into her lap.
Next time she had to feed the baby she’d go upstairs.
He lifted her shirt and tucked it gently behind Michael so that it would stay, then he stared at the baby.
She looked away and tried to concentrate on the faint sound of the football game, unwilling to watch the play of emotions across his handsome face.
She shouldn’t be embarrassed over something so natural, she chided herself. He wasn’t looking at her, he was watching Michael. She was the one struggling with feelings she desperately wished would go away.
“What does it feel like?” he asked in a low voice.
She closed her eyes against his soft, appealing voice, resenting the question. How could she tell him about the incredible sensation of nursing a child in terms that wouldn’t sound sexual?
“Different.” The lame answer hung in the air between them.
She glanced at him and saw his gaze fastened on the spot where Michael’s milky lips tugged at her swollen nipple.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” His quiet voice held a note of sadness as his gaze shifted to her face.
Now she wished she had. She wished she’d called him as soon as she’d realized she was pregnant, before Michael had become real to her. She suspected it might have made sharing him easier.
If she’d told him then they wouldn’t be having this conversation with him practically sitting in her lap.
She’d been such an emotional mess when she’d first gone to her aunt’s home in Quebec it had taken months for the reality to set in.
“When I left I didn’t know,” she hedged.
He raised one eyebrow. “It’s been a year since you ran,” he said, his voice brusque.
Trust Joe not to let anything be easy. She had run, as far and as fast as she could, but she didn’t like the way it sounded when he said it.
She decided to tell him the simple truth. “A year ago I hated you.”
“And you think that’s fair?” His hand lay fisted on his knee, saying more about what he was feeling than his reasonable tone.
She shrugged. “I didn’t say it was fair. I said it was the reason. It took me a couple of months to realize I was pregnant. I thought I was feeling ill because of stress.”
He’d been looking at Michael. His head came up and he nailed her with a steady gaze. “You were sick?”
She nodded, remembering the misery. “Yes. I felt awful for the first three months. I blamed you.” She’d blamed Joe for everything. She realized she still did.
He stared at her a long time before he spoke again. She worked very hard not to squirm. “Why did you come back?”
The only sound in the room was Michael’s suckling and her own heart, pounding in her ears.
It wasn’t an easy question, but a reasonable one. She needed to be honest with Joe. She’d hide her feelings about him, but there shouldn’t be any dishonesty between them when it came to Michael. She owed him that.
“To tell you about Michael. To try to straighten out the mess Daddy left behind so I can start a new life with my son.”
His expression hardened, making his jaw look even more square. “Our son.”
She hesitated for a long moment. “Our son.”
Joe rubbed his palm along his thigh in a gesture that looked like nerves to her. She had never seen him look anything but totally composed and in charge.
“What is his birth date?”
“July twenty-first.” At 11:51 p.m. She didn’t remember, because she had been so exhausted and doped up with medication, but that was the time the doctor had listed on the birth records.
He cleared his throat. “Is my name on his birth certificate?”
“Yes.” How long had her hand hovered over the line on the form marked “father”? It had been a close call. Now she was relieved she could tell him yes. It was one less thing to argue about.
“This new life you have in mind. Where do you think you’re going?” His tone had a challenging edge to it.
“I don’t know.” That was the truth. She had no idea where she and Michael would end up. She didn’t know physically where they would live, but she knew that emotionally she had to stay as far away from Joe as she could get.
She left that part out of the conversation. As far as she knew, he wasn’t interested in her, either.
Where she would end up depended on how much money she could raise and where she could find a job. Her art history degree had its limitations in the job market. Without her trust fund a job like the one she’d had at the gallery in New York wouldn’t pay enough to live on.
She pulled her sweatshirt down to cover herself as best she could and used her finger to break the suction between Michael’s mouth and her nipple.
“Is he done?”
The man certainly was curious. He had nieces and nephews. Hadn’t he ever seen a woman nurse a baby? “I need to switch him to the other side.”
Michael made a sleepy protest as she put him up to her shoulder and awkwardly tried to refasten her bra with one hand.
Joe reached for the baby and held him over his shoulder, gently rubbing Michael’s back. Michael gave a quiet little burp that made Joe smile.
He was not at all awkward the way most men were with newborns.
Nikki unfastened the other side of her bra and took Michael back, snuggling him across her lap so he could finish eating. This time, to Nikki’s relief, Joe didn’t fool with her sweatshirt.
They sat quietly for a long time before he spoke again. “Do you hate me?”
“No. I don’t really feel anything for you.” She didn’t look at him as she spoke, and wondered if he knew how big a lie she’d just told.
She felt so confused about him she wondered if she would ever figure it all out. She was still very attracted to him. To relieve the temptation she felt she wanted him out of the house. She could handle herself if they met in public places so he could have time with the baby, but the current living arrangement was just too cozy.
Nikki took a deep breath. She glanced up at him. “Joe, I want you to