Blame It on the Blackout by Heidi Betts Read Free Book Online Page A

arm, tried to take her hand, but she pulled away. “Lucy…” he began.
    â€œGood night, Peter,” she said, cutting him off and making it clear she wasn’t interested in conversation. “I’ll see you on Monday.”
    And then she turned the key in the lock and disappeared inside.
    With a heavy sigh, he slid his hands into the pockets of his jacket and let his forehead fall against the cool grain of her mahogany paneled door. His brows drew together as his fingers burrowed into a strange silkiness.
    Pulling his hand back out of the pocket, he found himself staring down at Lucy’s lacy black panties. A shudder rocked his tall frame and for a moment he thought his knees might buckle.
    If her panties were out here, with him, that meant she had been naked underneath her gown on the ride home. God, he was glad he hadn’t known that then or he’d have been hard-pressed not to jump her a second time.
    He remembered being inside her. The hot, wet haven of her body, clasping and clenching, driving him insane.
    Hot. Wet. Skin to skin.
    His eyes fell shut as realization and dread washed over him. He hadn’t worn a condom. He wasn’t sure he’d had a condom with him to wear, even if the thought had occurred to him back in that elevator. Before she’d spun every sane notion from his head with her kisses.
    He hadn’t worn a condom and didn’t know whether or not she was on birth control. Which meant she could be pregnant. With his child.
    Oh, this night just kept getting better and better.

Four
    W hen Lucy arrived at work Monday morning, she stood on Peter’s front stoop for several long minutes, key in the lock and hand on the knob, trying to convince herself it would be business as usual once she stepped inside.
    And why wouldn’t it? What happened Friday night in the elevator meant nothing, right? It had been a fluke. An intimate encounter brought on by crisis conditions, and not something that would have ever come about under normal circumstances.
    But that didn’t explain why Peter had called so many times over the weekend. Thank God she’d let the machine pick up the first time…and every time after that.With the volume down, she’d almost been able to survive those four rings each time without her heart jumping straight out of her chest.
    And then he’d shown up at her door Sunday afternoon. She’d stared through the peephole, bouncing anxiously on the balls of her feet, breathing hard, and biting the inside of her lip to keep from making a sound. He’d looked rumpled and ruffled, and more aggravated the longer he stood outside her apartment, waiting for her to answer.
    She felt like a coward, afraid to face her own boss. Which was the only reason she’d come to work today instead of calling in sick. If she didn’t, she was afraid she’d never be able to face Peter again.
    Taking a deep, fortifying breath, she turned the knob and stepped inside, closing the door silently behind her. On tiptoe, she made her way into the den that housed her work area, quickly but quietly putting away her purse and shrugging out of her linen suit jacket.
    With any luck, she wouldn’t see Peter for another few hours. Hopefully he’d had another long night and would sleep until noon. And maybe by then she could come up with an excuse to leave early or run some errands outside of the office.
    How long do you think you can keep that up? a voice in her head whispered. Sneaking around, avoiding him as much as possible.
    If she knew Peter…and after two years, she felt she did…he wouldn’t put up with that sort of thing for long. Unless—if she was lucky—he wanted to avoidher, too. Unfortunately, fifteen phone calls and an impromptu trip to her apartment told her that probably wasn’t the case.
    â€œLucy?”
    Peter’s voice, raised and eager, floated down to her from the second floor. Then she heard his