Free A Date With the Other Side by Erin McCarthy Page B

“I’m so sorry, Shelby. You didn’t have to tell me that.”
    She shrugged. “I felt like it made me sound like a bad mother, not mentioning having a child, and I didn’t want you to think that, or that I wasn’t responsible enough to take financial care of my child.”
    Since the thought had crossed his mind, he wisely kept quiet. “So I guess everyone in town knew why you got married, huh? That must have been hard, especially being so young.”
    Shelby blinked those soulful brown eyes at him and gently tried to pull her hand out of his. He didn’t let her.
    “It didn’t matter, I guess. And I would have married Danny in a year or two anyway. Getting pregnant just sped things up. We’d been dating since I was fifteen.”
    He didn’t know Shelby Tucker, and though he’d contemplated exploring a brief affair with her, he had never intended to get personal with her. But with Shelby a foot in front of him, smelling like summer flowers and looking soft and vulnerable, he couldn’t stay uninvolved.
    “I can’t imagine losing a baby, Shelby. I’m not sure I’d ever get over something like that.”
    “I don’t think I have,” she whispered.
    Then his lips were moving toward her, and he anticipated the sweet taste of her mouth. All week she’d been rolling around in the back of his head, an unlikely and undeniable temptation, a curiosity that he had to investigate.
    Now he was going to kiss her deeply and fully.
    Until she jerked back away from him when the music on his radio cut off. Boston turned to the radio, wondering what the hell was the matter with it. Then the lights flickered on and off, on and off.
    “I’m going to pretend that didn’t happen,” he said carefully, standing very still.
    Shelby looked around the bathroom, hands airplaning out in front of her. “But it did! And I feel something cold, do you feel that?”
    Oh, shit, he did, like a big wet fan was blowing on his stomach and he was suddenly reaching for the door, kicking it open with his foot. “Get the door so it doesn’t shut.”
    Shelby gasped. “Oh, good gravy, I don’t want to get trapped in the bathroom with you!”
    Boston managed to laugh, despite having to prop the door open with his back, his feet, and his hands, all still wearing nothing more than boxer shorts. “I can definitely think of better rooms to get trapped in with you.”
    “Like what?” Shelby stepped over him into the hall. “The kitchen? We’d have food.”
    “Or the bedroom,” he said, than decided the bizarre stress of the moment had been responsible for that leaving his mouth.
    Which could also explain why Shelby grabbed his arm and pulled him roughly. “I agree, that would be better.”
    He let her drag him into the hall, and they both watched in shock as the bathroom door slammed shut behind him.
    The lock clicked into place.
    Shelby put her hand on her heaving chest. “You know, this never happened before you showed up. Never saw a damn thing. Nothing. Not a cold spot, or a flicker of a light, or a vision or a single stinking creaking sound. And now I’m seeing all kinds of crazy things.”
    Boston started toward his bedroom, wanting more clothes on before he either continued this discussion or his body got confused as to why he was half naked around Shelby and not acting on it. He also thought it might be a good idea to get the hell out of the White House for a little while.
    “So, it’s my fault?”
    “Yes! It has to be.” Her voice followed him, high-pitched, this side of hysterical.
    “It’s just a coincidence.” Reaching in his dresser, he pulled out a pair of shorts that had been washed, ironed, and put away by Mary.
    “Aren’t you afraid?”
    He checked. Fear, no. Annoyed, sort of. Turned on, yes. “No, I’m not afraid.”
    Then he realized Shelby was standing in the room with him. “Shelby back up, get out of the…”
    The door to his bedroom was rolling shut with no sound, but efficient speed, and there was no time to do