he could stand.
He slept fitfully and by morning had settled on a plan. Skipping breakfast, he pulled his rental car up in front of the bakery. He walked around to the back and took the stairs to her apartment two at a time.
She opened the door just as he raised his fist to bang on it.
Shrugging into a jacket, she asked, “What do you want?” Graceless and humorless, but still gorgeous as hell. Shadows marred her eyes, but did he care? No. Why should she have had trouble sleeping? She wasn’t being dragged into parenthood against her will. She was getting what she wanted. A baby.
“I’m taking you to the hospital for a morning-after pill.” He should have taken her last night, but he’d been too angry to think straight.
“There’s no need,” she said. “I’m going to the clinic. It’s closer and staffed on Sundays.”
He didn’t trust her. “I’ll go with you.”
“Why?”
“To make sure that’s what you’re doing.”
“I don’t want this baby any more than you do.”
“Yeah, right.” You owe me a baby. “Last night was all about getting pregnant. You’re ovulating, remember?” At the bottom of the stairs, when she would have walked to her car parked behind the café, he took her arm and steered her toward Main Street.
“I’ll drive.” His tone brooked no objection and he got none.
She yanked her arm out of his hold, but approached the passenger side of the car. “You’re a bully, you know that?”
“Too bad. You did one nasty number on me last night.”
She settled into the seat without a word and remained silent while he drove.
At the clinic, they gave her the prescription, with Nick sitting in the doctor’s office right beside her to make sure she asked for the right thing. He took her to the drugstore to fill the scrip. He bought her a bottle of water and watched her take the pill. Done. There wasn’t any more he could do.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ON SUNDAY AT NOON, Olivia parked her Escalade in front of Aiden’s house. The driveway was so overgrown she almost missed the turnoff. A quarter of a mile in, it opened to a charming glade in the middle of which stood a barely civilized, rough-hewn log house.
Last summer, he’d shown her artwork for her to sell in her gallery, but they’d been in his garden. She assumed that since it was a cool day, she would be invited inside this time.
The front door opened and there he was, big and muscular in his jeans and white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and bare feet, the most masculine man she’d ever met.
“Come in,” he called, and his deep voice sent shivers down her spine.
She got out of the car and approached. So, she was to be invited inside.
As she walked the pathway to the front door, his attention seemed to be focused on her legs and then her hips, and last, her lips, but that couldn’t be. She was imagining it.
Her curiosity piqued about all things Aiden, she followed him down a hallway too quickly for her to get much more than the briefest impressions of rooms as they passed. She did notice, though, that it looked a heck of a lot more refined than the outside.
They stepped into the kitchen and Olivia stared, stunned. If the outside of the house had been primitive, the kitchen was glorious, massive and made for someone passionate about food.
It smelled of garlic and seafood. She noticed a bowl of shrimp waiting to be tossed into a pan.
Aiden stepped behind her, startling her, and she jumped. “What—?”
“I’m just taking your jacket.”
Her jacket? So this would take a while.
“Make yourself at home.” His breath whispered over her hair.
How could she possibly relax with the man prowling near her with a knowing look in his eye and a smile hovering around his mouth?
“I’m disturbing your lunch.” She stood beside the counter feeling as awkward as a schoolgirl.
“I invited you to lunch.”
“No, Aiden. You asked me over to see your recent work.”
“It’s noon,” he said as though it explained everything. “Why would I invite you here at noon if I didn’t plan to feed you?”
“You didn’t make it clear. You enjoy making me uncomfortable, don’t you?”
He’d been about to open a bottle of wine but put the opener back onto the counter. She’d startled him.
“Uncomfortable?” He strode to her. “No. I want you to feel at home here.” He placed his palm against her cheek and his big hand covered the side of her head.