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“I’ve thought about your concerns, and they don’t wash, Andie,” he told her, his grip tightening to emphasize his point. “They just don’t hold up. It’s bullshit that you think I’d wanna stay with you just for a kid. I’ve raised one on my own already, and I know what’s in store for us. I’d never subject myself or you and our child to a forced relationship. If this turns out to be all flash with no real legs to stand on, we will face that bridge when we get to it. We won’t be the first couple in this situation, and we won’t be the last. We’re not irrational people, and we won’t let our kid suffer, right?”
“Of course,” she agreed, “but—”
“No,” Luke interrupted. “No buts. Leave it there and let’s do this. Where’s the harm? After time, if it doesn’t work, then we are in the exact same place we’re in now.” He rose up off his haunches and leaned close so they were almost nose to nose, and Luke brushed a lock of hair from her cheek to tuck behind her ear. His fingers lingered there, playing gently with the lobe. “But if this works? If this is a deeper connection than you and I have given it credit for? We could offer our kid a hell of a lot more. We could offer him everything.”
“Luke. That sounds wonderful, really, but—”
“You’d be using the baby to keep us apart,” Luke interrupted once more. “How is that any better than your fear that we’d be using him as an excuse to stay together?”
“Ugh, I give up,” Andie resigned with a sigh. “So? What did you have in mind?”
The look that came over him right then caught Andie’s breath in her throat. A light of challenge filled his eyes, and his smile was more than a little cocky.
“I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven. Dress comfortable, but in case you care—” He stood and dropped a gentle kiss on the crown of her head before stepping back. “—I’m partial to skirts.”
* * *
“I’m partial to skirts?”Kiki repeated for the dozenth time the next evening. She was camped out in the middle of Andie’s bed cross-legged and doodling on a sketchpad as Andie frantically hunted through her closet in search of an outfit. “That man is seriously sexy. Are you going for the skirt or putting on jeans to make him work for the goods?”
“Make him work for it?” Andie half laughed and turned toward her BFF. “Kiki, I don’t know if we are going to work out; sex isn’t even on the menu right now.”
Her eyes never left her drawing when she gave that statement the reply it deserved. “You’re pregnant with his spawn, Andie. It’s a little late to take things slow, don’t you think?”
“I’m not playing around here. I just think that with as unsure as we are of each other, well… maybe jumping right back into bed isn’t such a great idea. I mean, look how well that worked out for us last time.”
“Sex is always a great idea,” Kiki said matter-of-factly, still absorbed in her work.
Andie looked down at her as yet unchanged body. “That’s probably true. God, that feels really true. And in a couple months, I’m gonna be all big and fat. Maybe I should take advantage of the time I have now before it’s too late.”
“See?” Kiki pointed a finger her way. “Told you. Sex is always the way to go.” Then. “Nope. Not that.”
Andie looked from the purple knit skirt in her hand to her friend who was still focused on her pad. “What’s wrong with this? You’re not even looking; it’s fabulous.”
Kiki swirled and scribbled with her charcoal pencil then smudged with a fingertip before she finally looked up at Andie. Andie had to smile. Her best friend looked about eight years old slouched on the bed with her unruly rainbow hair up in sloppy pigtails and a smear of black on her nose and cheek. “It doesn’t suit you. It never has. First off, it’s too long and makes your legs look way shorter than they already are. Then, there is the fit. That thing clings in all the wrong places and hangs funky.”
“Funky?” Andie asked, a little panicked, because she loved the color, and although she didn’t feel the greatest in it, she’d worn it a lot when she was working. “How so?”
“It goes all crooked and ends up shorter in the back than it is in the front. I say we burn it.” Then she went back to her doodling.
“I love this skirt,” Andie said, flummoxed. “I’ve worn it a million times.”
“I know. You’re lucky Joan Rivers never caught you in it.” Kiki never even flinched when Andie chucked the skirt at her head. With the reflexes of a cat, she snatched it out of thin air a second before it hit her and threw it behind the bed, all while she kept drawing. Andie stood dumbfounded. Frankly awed at the injustice of it all. “You could have told me sooner. Like when you were with me while I was buying it.”
“You loved it so much I just figured you could pull it off if you added the right layers.” She peeked up at Andie through inky black eyelashes. “You never did.”
“If Luke wasn’t due to be here in less than an hour, I’d so tackle you right now.”
“You’d get your ass kicked.” Kiki laughed. “I always win.”
“I’m mad enough for a rematch, and this time I think I can take you.” She reached without looking into her closet where all her summer dresses hung. “I’m done with this. I can’t waste any more time agonizing over clothes. I’m wearing whatever I pull out.”
“That never works,” Kiki warned.
She was right. Somehow, Andie pulled out a long-sleeved knit dress that would melt her in this heat. “Well. Shit.” It took her another three attempts before she admitted defeat and let Kiki dress her. Kierra always picked a theme when she was given free reign, and tonight’s was apparently retro. She pulled out a red halter dress with white polka dots and low-heeled pumps. Kiki styled her hair in soft waves, and she added a single strand of pearls with matching earrings for a flourish.
“God!” Kiki sighed when she stood back for a final check. “You look like you just stepped right out ofHow to Marry a Millionaire!I love when you let me play dress up with you.”
“Okay, I’ll be Marilyn, and you can be Bacall,” Andie teased.
