Dedicated Ink Page 2

  “Don’t worry,” Sam said, fishing in his pocket. “She’s safe with me.” He held up something that caught the light, reflecting a metallic glint.

  Zoe’s dark brows raced toward her carefully-parted hairline.

  Abby looked up, up, up at where Sam held a badge aloft, the embossed metal framed by his thick fingertips. She vividly recalled the feeling of those same fingertips gliding across her body, stroking, teasing and giving – but those memories were trumped by shock as she realized that the unknowing father of her baby was an officer with the Pittsburgh Police.

  She hadn’t known, hadn’t even asked what he did for a living. That was how meaningless their night together had been – or was supposed to have been. In the interest of not looking like a liar – or worse, a total idiot – she tried to appear unsurprised as Sam tucked the badge back into his pocket.

  A fall breeze greeted her and Sam as they walked out the door together. The wind rushed through Abby’s tied-back hair and imparted an unexpected reviving effect. As she approached her car, it actually seemed possible that she might make it home without having to deal with a heaving stomach.

  “Sorry about the cancellation.” She paused by the driver’s side door, her heart in her throat. Given the circumstances and the things she needed to tell him, maybe it was a dumb thing to say, a waste of conversation. But those words were the only ones she’d been able to summon to the tip of her tongue.

  “I figured there was a chance you might have reservations, even if you weren’t sick.”

  She looked up, daring to meet the ice-blue eyes she’d dreamed about more than a few times since she’d last seen them in person. “You knew it was me? I mean, you chose me to do your tattoo, knowing who I was?”

  He nodded. “When I was searching for an artist, I found Hot Ink’s site and saw your portfolio. I decided right then and there who I’d be going to for my next tattoo – it was easy to recognize you from your picture.” He smiled a smile so faint Abby almost wondered if she was imagining it. “Can’t miss those tattoos, or that hair.”

  Dumbstruck, she stared at him, studying his muscular frame again, unable to keep from imagining him in uniform, his hard body wrapped in blue. God…

  “I figured it was just a fluke. I didn’t realize you came to see me on purpose.” Yeah, her brightly colored half sleeves and natural platinum locks made her easy enough to recognize, but she and Sam hadn’t planned to see each other again after that night.

  Chewing the inside of her lower lip, she mulled the revelation over. She took a lot of pride in her work, and knew she was good, but still … Hot Ink boasted several of the city’s most talented tattoo artists. He could have avoided her by choosing Jed, Eric or any of the others.

  “I did.” He said it with finality, looking right into her eyes.

  Why? The question danced on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t force it out, mostly because she couldn’t think of a good reason why he’d want to see her again. Their night together had been intended as a no-strings sort of deal – they’d both been clear about that.

  “Maybe when you’re feeling better, I can take you to dinner.”

  His words were so unexpected they almost sounded like a foreign language. “What?” Maybe she could’ve blamed her slack-jawed look of surprise on pregnancy hormones, if he’d known she was pregnant. But then, if he’d known, he surely wouldn’t have just asked her out on a date.

  “I’d like to take you to dinner. Are you interested?”

  Hell yes, a voice in the back of her head screamed.

  Another voice reminded her that he didn’t know what he was asking, that everything had changed since they’d last seen each other.

  She nodded before she could lose courage. A pang of something like guilt shot through her, leaving her feeling almost deceitful. Still, she couldn’t deny that his unexpected request presented a much-needed opportunity for her to see him again, to level with him. Now all she had to do was work out how she’d tell him the truth when they met for what he probably thought would be another night of tumbling carefree through the sheets.

  * * * * *

  Stripped of his duty belt, gun, bulletproof vest, boots and uniform, Sam felt strangely light. Maybe the feeling had nothing to do with what he’d just taken off and everything to do with the expectation that rushed through his veins at the thought of talking to Abby again. Sinking onto the edge of his bed, he disturbed the cool, unwrinkled sheets, breathing a sigh.

  It’d been a long day. During the duller moments – whenever he’d been able to spare the presence of mind – he’d thought of her. He thought of nothing else now; alone in his empty house, there were no distractions.

  She’d been on his mind for the past two months and seeing her again had brought back a flood of memories, intensifying the hopes he’d been harboring since July. Her smile, her voice, her body – he remembered it all much more vividly than he’d expected to after just one night.

  Especially her touch.

  Those particular memories made his mind race, combining memory with fantasy and turning his cock into a steel rod. Lowering a hand into his lap, he pulled down the waistband of his boxer briefs and wrapped his fingers around his shaft. With his fist closed tightly around his dick, he sighed again.

  It was a ragged sound, and simply exhaling broke down the last barriers of his reserve. Hand clenched, he pumped it up and down his shaft, seeing Abby naked in his mind’s eye.

  Naked but not bare – her skin was a tapestry of ink, and he hadn’t forgotten the sinuous designs that emphasized and decorated her tight curves. The patterns had been burnt into his mind over the course of a few fleeting hours – he couldn’t forget the way she’d looked, the way his dick had practically jumped to attention at the sight of her stripped down to just her tattoos.

  His fantasy was jumbled and half-frantic. There was so much to remember; it was hard to choose what to focus on. His tongue tangled with hers, or a mouthful of one of her breasts… It’d all been so good.

  His balls ached, warning him that he wouldn’t have enough time to revisit all the memories that had been haunting him since July. He slowed a little, stroking himself in a hard, measured rhythm. He should wait until he was in the shower. Hell, he needed a shower now after sweating all day in his uniform.

  Still, he didn’t want to unclench his fist any more than he wanted to let go of the image of Abby his mind had conjured up – she was almost real inside his head, a mental hologram with loose blonde locks and ink in all the right places.

  Almost real was almost enough, but not quite. He’d had her once, but he wanted her again. For real – for good. It almost hurt to think about, he wanted it so bad. What he was doing wouldn’t quell that desire – he knew that – but he couldn’t help it, couldn’t resist.

  A flash, tiny and bright, caught his eye and sent a crack racing through his thoughts, dividing his one-track mind.

  Tearing his hand away from his groin, he pulled the waistband of his underwear back up onto his hips with a groan of self-resentment. Bending forward at the waist, he squinted at the place the flash had come from.

  There, on the carpet, beneath the bedside table, something was glittering.

  He didn’t own things that glittered.

  He reached for the foreign object, his fingers slipping against one of the table legs before closing around something hard.

  It was an earring – a small golden stud. Was it hers?

  His mind began to race again at the thought of finding something of Abby’s in his bedroom, months after she’d been inside it. Being pressed against the table leg had obviously kept the earring from being vacuumed up, but how had he never noticed it before?

  Thinking back, he tried to picture the golden stud shining from her ear. He’d kissed his way up her neck and to her earlobe, teased her there with tongue and teeth. And yeah, she’d been wearing earrings.

  Purple earrings. He remembered now – they’d matched her tattoos. Small but bri
lliant, the gemstones had looked good on her.

  That only left one other person the gold earring could’ve belonged to. All traces of his arousal suddenly gone, he rose and walked to the bathroom, where he dropped the piece of jewelry into the trash. The damn thing really had been lying there forever. Too bad it hadn’t been swept up or otherwise lost – the discovery had left a bitter taste in his mouth.

  He didn’t get into the shower – not yet. Instead, he returned to his bedroom and picked up his phone. Would Abby be ready to set a date and time for the dinner she’d agreed to have with him, or had he fucked up by showing up at Hot Ink without revealing who he was beforehand?

  He had to know. As a familiar ache flared again in his groin, he dialed the number she’d given him in the Hot Ink parking lot, the remembered taste of her making his mouth water, a sweet phantom flavor.

  CHAPTER 2

  The ultrasound room was unexpectedly atmospheric. The lights were dimmed, and a vase of lavender asters rested on a table next to a decorative wooden dressing screen. All that was missing was a flickering candle. Instead, a TV-like screen was mounted on the wall, giving off a soft glow.

  The ultrasound technician led Abby around the screen to where an exam table rested beside a machine with another, smaller screen. Any hints of ambiance the laid-back room had given off faded as Abby was left alone to disrobe and cloak herself in a couple of flimsy paper sheets. Naked from the waist down against the crinkly table cover, she waited for the tech to return.

  There was enough room behind the screen for someone to stand beside the table and hold the hand of the woman lying on top of it. It was hard to resist imagining what it would be like to feel another hand wrapped around one of her sweaty ones, to share her anxiety with another person who was just as wrapped up in the pregnancy as she was.

  True, she could’ve called her sister and asked her to come. But she hadn’t told anyone about her pregnancy yet, not even Natalie. She just wasn’t ready – she wanted to be sure before she shared the news, needed to know that everything was going okay. She’d researched pregnancy briefly online, desperate for information, and fifteen minutes of reading was all it had taken to convince her that there were a million and one things that could go wrong.

  That realization had sparked real fear. Only a couple days had passed since she’d held her positive test in shaking hands, and already she felt a primal sort of attachment, a sense of protectiveness that felt as natural as drawing her next breath.

  “Ready?” The tech reentered the room after knocking.

  “Yes.”

  The woman explained what a trans-vaginal ultrasound was as she prepared for the procedure. Abby had already read about it, but it was still weird when the tech produced a wand and covered it with a disposable condom-like sheath for hygiene’s sake. Still, she could easily endure the invasive procedure if it meant certainty and answers.

  Was the baby in the right place? Was it developing normally? Was its heart beating at a healthy pace? What if, what if, what if…

  Questions raced through Abby’s mind, the same ones she’d been asking herself over and over during the past three days, ever since she’d laid eyes on those three blue lines. She’d called up her OB-GYN, requested the first available appointment and then anxiously awaited the initial ultrasound exam.

  “The purpose of this procedure is mainly to determine how far along you are,” the tech said as she prepared the wand with gel.

  Abby nodded, even though she knew exactly when she’d conceived. The ultrasound would be required regardless, and she wanted – needed – to see a healthily developing baby on the screen that loomed on the wall opposite the exam table.

  She did her best to relax as she reclined, balancing her heels on the table’s edge as the procedure began. The mild discomfort caused by the wand was quickly overshadowed by nerves as a sound filled the room – a heartbeat. It was faster than she’d expected, but then, hadn’t she read on the internet that fetal heartbeats were much quicker than adults’?

  Still, it sounded like a tiny construction crew was at work in her belly, and each beat drove home the reality of her condition a little further. With the noise of new life ringing in her ears, she watched the screen, straining to make sense of the black and white portrait the ultrasound had painted of her insides.

  “Two heartbeats,” the tech said. “And there are the two fetuses. See?”

  “Two?” The word leapt from Abby’s suddenly-dry mouth. “You mean…”

  “Twins. Do you see them?”

  Abby was still, dumbstruck for what felt like the millionth time since she’d read her positive pregnancy test. The tech pointed out two round little heads that dwarfed the bodies below and even tiny nubs that marked developing limbs.

  A small eternity seemed to pass, and by the time she could bring herself to speak, it felt like her heart was beating as quickly as the babies’. “I can’t believe I’m having twins,” she said, more to herself than the tech. “Does everything look okay?”

  “I’m not really supposed to say,” the tech replied, pursing her lips. “But yeah…” She broke into a smile and gave Abby the tiniest of winks, “everything looks normal to me.”

  She would’ve sighed in relief, but her lungs didn’t seem to be working properly. It was all she could do to breathe, to lie still while the tech concluded the exam by taking images of her ovaries.

  When the other woman left, Abby shed her fragile paper coverings and slid shaky limbs back into the clothing she’d left folded on a chair. The tech had given her a strip of black and white images, along with a due date – April 21. It was just past mid-September now, which made her about two and a half months pregnant. The tech had explained to her that the doctors started counting pregnancy at the first day of her last period, which meant that by the time conception occurred, a woman was already considered to be two weeks along.

  Tucking the black and white photos into her purse, she took a deep breath and reached for the door. She tried not to think of the night that had led to her current situation, but the memories were intense and offered a tempting distraction from the sense of shock that had settled over her in the exam room. Still, she had something much more pertinent to contemplate – the upcoming evening, and her date with Sam.

  He’d called her the night before and asked if she was available. She’d said yes, knowing that by the time they met, she’d already have answers from her doctor visit – answers and proof that she was pregnant and that her conception lined up with the night they’d spent together.

  As she was shown to another exam room by a nurse, nagging worry ate away at the little bit of confidence the ultrasound photos and official due date had given her. What if Sam wasn’t willing to accept that he was the father without proof – what if he thought that she hit up bars for one night stands all the time, that the father could just as well be someone she’d slept with the night before, or the next night?

  What if he demanded a paternity test, and what if he didn’t want anything to do with her or the babies in any case?

  Chewing her inner lip as she undressed and covered herself in paper again, she conjured up the image of him standing inside Hot Ink, holding his badge aloft. Discovering that he was a police officer had boosted her hopes that he’d be interested in being involved in their children’s lives. At least now she knew that he wasn’t some deadbeat, wasn’t someone who shied away from responsibility. Still, just because he was responsible enough to enforce the law didn’t mean he’d want any part in raising not one but two children with a near stranger.

  By the time the doctor knocked at the door and entered, the inside of Abby’s lower lip was torn and bleeding. She focused on the sting and the taste of copper, willing herself to hold it together at least until after her date with Sam that night. Then, if she needed to, she could come undone in the privacy of her apartment.

  * * * * *

  Sam wasn’t exactly the world’s sharpest dresser. When he’d been a kid, hi
s older sister had often critiqued his sense of style – or lack thereof – and had relished correcting what she’d deemed his “fashion crimes”. As an adult, he still cared little what his clothing looked like – when he was out of uniform, anyway – but tonight was a different story.

  He carefully selected an outfit from a closet full of deliberately neutral garments. He always avoided flashy stuff when he shopped, figuring the more basic he kept his wardrobe, the less likely he was to accidentally dress himself like a clown. The grey shirt and almost-new dark wash jeans he chose for the evening were so simple they had to be a safe choice. Besides, his sister had once advised him that grey was a good color for him – went well with his hair or something.

  He never would’ve admitted to her that he remembered her advice, let alone that he was actually following it in hopes of impressing a woman, but that was exactly what he did as he ironed the shirt to perfection, then donned the outfit.

  Was it too casual? He doubted his selection for a second as he glimpsed himself in the mirror mounted on the inside of his closet door. He’d made all the wrong impressions and done all the wrong things during his first night with Abby. He needed to set things straight now, couldn’t afford to fuck up and allow her to think that this was just another meaningless encounter – the last thing he intended the night to be was casual in the way their first had been.

  And yet, it wasn’t like they were going to the damn opera or something. Dinner and a movie, if she’d agree to see one with him. Dinner, at the very least – she’d already said yes to that over the phone.

  He shut the closet door before he could second-guess himself again. If he over-thought his clothes, he’d only end up wearing something asinine.

  He made sure his house was locked up before climbing into his car, but instead of heading to her place, he drove straight to the restaurant they’d agreed to have a meal at. She’d turned down his offer to pick her up.