when taking their drink orders. If it wasn’t the week before payday, there was a better than even chance Cindy would have told him to stuff a sock in his dinner invitation. He hadn’t worked that hard for anything since his internship.
Determination had served him well then, but he’d need more than that to deal with this woman. She had a chip on her shoulder as big as Nevada and somehow he had to separate her from it. The challenge got his juices going.
Sooner or later she would figure out that he wasn’t going away.
“Have you been here before?” he asked.
“No. Have you?”
“Yes.” It was handy when he was working.
The restaurant had a black and white tiled floor, red Formica tables and matching upholstery on the chrome stools at the counter. Waitresses wore red and white pinstriped uniforms to go with the retro look. It wasn’t Capriotti’s, which was kind of the point. That romantic atmosphere had landed him in this complicated mess. Now that he thought about it, he’d worked pretty hard to get her to have dinner with him that night, too.
And now she was pregnant.
Wrapping his head around the reality wasn’t easy, especially when she looked as slender as the night he’d held her in his arms. She’d changed into a pair of denim capris, but he really missed the shorts that left her legs bare. And the short, knit top that let him have flashes of the naked flesh beneath. Neither outfit gave a clue about her condition, yet he didn’t doubt that she was telling the truth. Funny, but her prickly attitude and the order to back off landed squarely in the confirmation column. She wouldn’t do that if she were trying to pull a fast one.
There was zero romance here in this diner, but he could still smell the intoxicating scent of her perfume, and that cranked up a yearning in his gut that had nothing to do with food.
He blew out a long breath. “So, what are you going to have?”
“I don’t see peanut butter and jelly,” she grumbled from behind the menu.
“How about a cobb salad?”
She peeked around the tall plastic and met his gaze. “Really? Salad? You promised me dinner, not gerbil food.”
“PB&J is dinner?”
“In my world.” She ducked back into hiding.
“Okay,” he said patiently. “What looks good to you?”
“Banana cream pie. With a pickle,” she added.
“If that’s representative of your current dietary choices, no wonder you’re nauseous.”
Again, she peeked out from behind the menu and gave him a sassy look. “Just wanted to see if you were paying attention.”
Ignoring her seemed to be a challenge he was unable to meet no matter how determined he might be. “I guess I passed the test.”
“Yeah. But I was serious about the pie.”
“That’s a lot of empty calories,” he warned.
“Don’t get your stethoscope in a twist.” She put the menu down on the table. “It just sounds good. That’s not what I’m getting. The doctor told me about the pregnancy weight parameters. Twenty-five pounds or so.”
The perky waitress—Jayne her name tag said—returned with their drinks. Coffee for him. Water for Cindy. “So what can I get for you two?”
“Club sandwich. Wheat bread. No cheese. Side salad with oil and vinegar.” She handed over her menu.
“Hamburger and fries,” Nathan ordered, doing the same.
“You’re going to hell,” Cindy muttered.
Jayne wrote on her pad and smiled brightly. “Coming right up. Let me know if there’s anything else you need.”
He needed to let Cindy know he had her back. Unlike his father, he was someone a woman could depend on. If the waitress could rustle up an order of trust, there’d be a really good tip in it for her.
When they were alone again, he looked across the table. “So, how do you like Rebecca Hamilton?”
“She seems like a good doctor.” Cindy removed the paper from her straw. “I like her a lot. She’s young, smart. Easy to talk to.”
He agreed. They had worked together from time to time. Every once in a while Rebecca called him in to consult when one of her patients delivered a baby too early.
“She’s thorough, too. So she probably told you that staying in shape is important for both you and the baby.”
“She did,” Cindy confirmed. “And isn’t it fortunate that I have a job that affords me the opportunity to move around a lot?”
And she couldn’t afford much else, he thought. Thanks to the jerk who used her and disappeared. Nathan was furious every time he thought about that. And he didn’t like the idea of her pushing around the housekeeping cart.
“Aren’t there exercise classes specifically for expectant mothers?” he asked.
“There are. And I’ll do that in my copious free time, right between my job and administrative internship responsibilities.”
“How about on the weekend?” he suggested.
“Right.” She took a sip of her water. “I can do that because money grows on trees.”
“I’ll pay for it.”
The words just came out of his mouth. What was it about this woman that made him want to fix things for her? It wasn’t the pregnancy because the protective feeling had simmered inside him from the moment he’d seen her cross that crowded ballroom.
“No, thanks.” She smiled, and for the first time since he’d asked her to dinner there was warmth in the expression.
“I’m only trying to help.”
“Believe me, I noticed.” She dragged her finger through the condensation on her glass. “And I appreciate the gesture. But I don’t care for feeling pathetic, that my life is a bad B movie. And if this were a romantic comedy, you’d have proposed to me by now. But we both know that kind of offer would be out of character for you.”
There was nothing wrong with his character. He paid his bills, didn’t use women and never made promises he didn’t intend to keep. “How do we know that?”
“It’s common knowledge,” she said with a knowing look.
Not to him. “It?”
“You’re a serial dater, which by definition means anti-matrimony.”
“So that’s the current rumor at the hospital?”
She nodded. “Is it wrong?”
Damn
