Driving to You

“There’s a big Mafia problem in NoDa?” he asked, with that brogue of his. She would never admit it to him, but that combination of Irish accent with a touch of the Bronx drove her wild. Made her wet and hot.



And she hated it now. Him, really. Hated how out of control he could make her feel by saying such mundane things as butter, hotter and basically any word ending with an ‘r’. But that wasn’t the worst of his crimes,not by a long shot. He had made her fall in love with him, or who she thought he was.



“Are we through here?” Snatching her license out of his hand, she flung it away, not caring where it landed. The smell of Salvador Deli, normally taste bud heaven, made her stomach roil and she gasped. A cold sweat broke out on her forehead and she felt the blood drain from her face.



He opened the car door so quickly that she couldn’t stop him. “What’s wrong, babe?”



Breathing through her nose, she slanted him a look. “Don’t call me babe, you damn Yankee.” Another roil of her stomach and she had to lean back in her seat, eyes closing. She would not puke in front of him. On him though, was an entirely different matter.



“I’m Irish, April. Lived in Ireland most of my life,” he reminded her.



“But you lived in the Bronx for five years,” she insisted, then moaned a little as the next wave of nausea hit her. “Makes you a Yankee.”



He grunted. “Get out of the car.”



“You can’t make me,” she said weakly, but didn’t protest when he unfastened her seatbelt and lifted her out. His bullet proof vest was hard and as unforgiving as she felt on the inside. Wrapping her arms around his neck was something she had to do, because she had no desire to fall.



Too bad she’d never stopped falling for him.



Damn stubborn woman. Finn kicked the car door shut, then pressed the lock button on her key fob before readjusting her in his arms. She snuggled up against him, and he glanced down. The color had returned to her face, but she still looked a bit peaked.



“You aren’t contagious, are you?” he asked, striding to his SUV.



Her head lulled to one side, one eye cracking open to narrow at him. “Will you leave me alone if I say yes?” Which was April-speak for she wasn’t contagious and wanted him to stay with her.



A smile kicked up the corners of his mouth. He managed to get his keys out, unlock the door and place her inside. “Sit there, and if you have to hurl, kindly roll down the bloody window first.” Then he slammed the door shut and jogged to the driver’s side and got in. “I’ll get one of my buddies to drive your car home.”



After he started up his Range Rover and merged onto Davidson, she cleared her throat. “I don’t live on Kingston anymore.”



Grunting, he glanced at her, then back at the road. “Finally moved up to Myers Park, yeah?”



“No.”



“Eastover, then.” It was pure luck that he’d been doing a ride-along with Hunter and was on his way back to his SUV. When he’d seen that silver little BMW whip out onto Davidson, it had been all he could do not to tell Hunter to punch it. Instead he’d suggested that his buddy tail the roadster, just for shits and giggles.



So, when her speed had gone a mile over, Finn couldn’t have hit the lights fast enough. Pride made him sit in the car so she could sweat it out.



“Pretty nice ride, for a cop,” she said as he braked for a red light. “Or Uptown’s businesses are doling out major kickbacks.”



“Security business pays well, remember?”



“Should I know every mundane fact about your life?”



Which meant, yes, she did remember. Too amused to be angry with her, he smiled and shook his head. “Do you believe every Hollywood film you see?”



“Then you explain it.”



“If I told you, then I’d have to kill you,” he said with a quick glance in her direction.



She smirked at him, then closed her eyes. “Nice.”



His stomach rumbled. A quick stop at the deli and he could get his dinner to go. “Are you hungry?”



She didn’t answer. Glancing her way again, he found April asleep, her mouth slightly parted. Damn, whatever bad dose she’d gotten had made her all knackered.



He parked his truck again, ran to the window, ordered and was back on the road in under ten minutes. April slept the entire time, until he turned into her driveway. Then she woke up, looked at him and her face went white, then green.



“Oh, no, no, no,” he chanted, pressing the unlock button while she worked at the door handle.



“It’s not working.”



Jumping out, he ran like a man on fire to her side. “Let go,” he shouted, but every time he pulled, so did she and the door refused to budge. Finally, she gave up and stuck her head out of the window, puking down the side of his Range Rover.



He made a face, running a hand over his eyes, nose and mouth. “Did you have to get it all over the door?”



“Sandwich,” she moaned.



She wanted eat. After all that? “Sorry?”



“Get. Your. Sandwich,” she said through gritted teeth.



He stood there, stupidly, until his sandwich came flying through the window, hitting him squarely in the chest. Catching it on the way down, he watched April get out on his side and wobble on high heels to her front door. She jiggled the knob a couple of times, then sank to the floor and did…nothing.



A gentleman would go help his lady up. But he was no gentleman and his “lady” hated him, hadn’t spoken to him in over a month and had puked all over his new SUV’s paint job. He stomped to the side of her house, threw the sandwich away in her trashcan, then searched for a garden hose. After finding it, he turned on the water and pulled the hose along side of him.



Taking his time, he rinsed off the passenger side door, then rummaged through the back for some soap, a bucket and a sponge. After finding all three, he set to washing the thing, humming a tune as he got the job done.



When the SUV looked as good as new, he put everything back in its place and headed to April’s porch. He stopped cold when he found her still sitting there, unmoving with her head against the door frame.



“Why didn’t you go inside?”



She made a little noise. “You have my keys.”



“But the spare—”



“Is in the back, hidden under the deck,” she finished. Holding out her hand, she wiggled her fingers at him. “Keys.”



Damn his temper and damn her stubbornness. She could have asked for his help. He snorted. Fat chance of that happening. Ever.



“Please,” she whispered, then her arm went limp.



And didn’t he feel like a big man for reducing her to this. April Billingsworth never said please. Oh hell, no. She demanded and he gave, until they were in bed together, then her demands turned into pleas.



“Now, Frank,” she growled.



He smiled. There was that flash of temper he’d missed. Thought she could make him mad by calling him by the wrong name? Not a chance. His smile widened. “There’s my girl.”



His girl chucked her phone at his head.



Chapter Four



April eyed Finn as he held a bag of frozen peas on his cheek. A very, very tiny part of her felt bad for hurting him, while a very, very large part of her thought it served him right.



Wrapping her robe tighter around her, she sailed past him and into the kitchen. Damp strands of hair slapped her in the face. The shower she’d taken had made her feel a million times better. So had the saltine crackers and ginger ale she’d sneaked into the bathroom while he wasn’t looking.



“I’ll take a steak-medium; a potato-baked; and a glass of your finest in lieu of your apology,” Finn called out from her living room. “And a twenty for the gas I spent getting you home safely.”



“Dream on,” she snapped, then stopped short, spun around and stomped to the living room. “How did you know where I lived?”



His oh so very handsome face paled a little under his tan. “You told me, right before you passed out.”



Crossing her arms, she lifted her chin. “I don’t think so.”



“You talk in your sleep, don’t you know,” he said with a wink. “Although, this time there were considerably less ‘more, Finn, more’ coming from that sweet mouth.”



Of all the nerve. She tossed her head and lifted her chin. “I’m glad the sex was memorable for one of us. Sorry, Fred, but I’ve moved on to bigger things. Huge.” Her gaze flicked down to his crotch and back up again, a smirk fixed on her sweet mouth. Just leave me be, she thought, until another voice in her head spoke up, Don’t let him go. “Maybe you should try to do the same.”



His face turned dark. “Dammit, April. You can’t keep running away from me.”



Uncrossing her arms, she shoved a finger into his chest. “Maybe I could, if your buddy hadn’t pulled me over for a false traffic violation.”



“False? You were speeding,” he yelled, his hands swiping through the air. Automatically, she flinched and used her hands to shield her face. “What the hell? I would never hit a woman.”



Humiliation washed over her, turning her body hot, then cold and then back to hot. Slowly lowering her arms, she narrowed her eyes. “How would I know that?”



Slowly, he took a step towards her, then another, his blue eyes serious. “I would never hurt you. Ever.”



Not physically, that she believed. However, her poor heart was still trying to recover from the bruises he’d left on it, with his lies and false promises.



“I’m sorry you’ve gone to all this trouble to help me home, but I think it’s best if you go.” She side-stepped him, heading to the door and opening it.



He moved to the door and her heart plummeted. Stay, please stay. Pausing he looked her straight in the eye and shut the door. “I’m staying.”



Yay, her heart cheered. She frowned. “Don’t you have cop stuff to do, like eat donuts?” Although if he ate donuts, then he must do a thousand sit-ups afterwards, because the man was more than cut.



As if reading her thoughts, he slid his hand up his black t-shirt, exposing those washboard abs and her weakness for them. She whimpered and he grinned. “These aren’t the abs of a desk jockey.”



Of their own accord, her fingers stretched toward him and she licked her lips.



“Go on. Touch them,” he said, voice all low and husky. He met her halfway, encircling her wrist with his large hand and placing her palm right on his stomach. The muscles contracted beneath it.



“Oh God,” she whimpered again. What was wrong with her? Finn was just a man, with red hair for goodness’ sake. Okay, so it was a dark auburn and his blue eyes were sexy as anything. He was sexy as anything.



“Knew you’d love it.” He smiled, wicked and full of promised.



And so smug that she snatched her hand away. “Better keep working out, Felix. There was a little pudge.”



His brows shot up to his hairline and his smile fell off his face. “My what?” Then that smile returned. “I’ve got you all figured out, Miss Billingsworth.”



She backed away from that smile. “The only thing you’ve figured out about me is that I happen to like men with nice physiques.” Stopping a couple feet of away from him, she pretended to consider her next words. “Like my ex-fiance, for instance, has abs that make grandmothers sigh.”



“Is that where you’ve been?” he asked.



Was Finn jealous? “I missed Carter.”



“If he’s so great, then why aren’t you with the arse. Oh, sorry, Mr. Wonderful?”



Because she didn’t want Carter. She wanted Finn, the man who had lied to her, who’d made her laugh and feel so loved that it physically hurt to be without him. And he was the father of her unborn child. Eventually, she would have to tell him about the pregnancy, but the other…probably never.



So she resorted to what she did best, annoy the hell out of Finn. “Who says he’s not on his way here right now?”



Finn could barely contain the eye roll over her bald-faced lie. “As sick as you were, I’d sure as hell wouldn’t be letting you out of my sight.” He strode to the kitchen and opened her fridge. There was barely anything on the shelves worth eating or drinking, unless one liked crackers and soda water. “Where’s your beer?”



“Right where you left your manners,” April said from the doorway between the kitchen and the living room.



He straightened, taking in her tiny tank top and stripped pajama bottoms that her open robe had revealed. Her breasts looked huge and there was a softness to her curves that hadn’t been there before. “Did you get your tits done?”



“Why?” She crossed her arms over her chest, making them stand out even more. “Did you miss my hot tits?”



He would never live that text down. “I’m a man, aren’t I?”



“Do you really want me to answer that?”



Damn, but he loved teasing her. “Gain some weight, then?”



Jaw working, she whirled around and stomped down the hall. He followed, “C’mon, April. I was only joking.”



“Go away.” She stopped at a door, her head bowed. Hair the color of caramel fell forward, exposing the soft nape of her neck.



“I’m sorry, sweetheart. You look gorgeous.” He moved closer, placing his hands on her hips and dipped his head. “I’m an arse.”



“Finn,” she said, her hands joining his, then bringing one around front. His palm coasting over the firm swell of her stomach. “I’m pregnant.”