Free My Best Friend's Baby by Lisa Plumley Page A

keeping up, all the same. The only things their
troupe lacked were Chloe's goldfish and her hamster, Curly.
    Waitaminute ... Nick peered closer.
If he didn't miss his guess, that hunk of rounded hot pink plastic
spinning at Chloe's heels was Curly's exercise ball. Powered by
furiously pumping rodent feet inside.
    He blinked. They were all still there. Only
Chloe would think to walk her hamster.
    They turned the corner and disappeared from
sight. He really ought to take advantage of her absence and get
some work done, Nick told himself. Somehow, his feet started down
the sidewalk anyway.
    "Hiya, Nick!" Chloe yelled to him over her
shoulder as he approached, almost as though she'd sensed him coming
up behind her—or known he'd follow. Her breath panted out in
measured whooshes, keeping pace with her strides. "Whatsa matter?
Can't keep up with a girl with a bun in the oven?"
    She didn't even slow down. In fact, she sped
up a little, making her behind wiggle enticingly. Nick doubted she
realized it.
    And wished he hadn't. What was the
matter with him? He was ogling his best friend like one of her
hapless lust-crazed Brunos.
    Lucky lust-crazed Brunos was more like it,
some aching part of him whispered. Shut up , Nick told
himself, putting thoughts of Chloe's wiggle firmly out of his mind.
It wasn't easy. Somehow, ever since he'd learned about her
pregnancy, those... fantasy episodes ... about Chloe had become
more and more frequent. It was becoming impossible to see his pal
as just a pal, when every glance at her gently curved belly
reminded him she was a sensual woman, too.
    Frowning, Nick clamped the lid on his libido
and caught up with her in few jogged steps—it wasn't for nothing he
ran five miles around the Saguaro Vista High track every
morning—and matched her pace.
    "I can keep up with you," he said, grinning
at the exaggerated way she pumped her arms at Rock-Em-Sock-Em Robot
angles. "It's Larry I'm worried about. He looks ready for a
milkbone and a doggie Gatorade."
    She stopped and wiped a trickle of gleaming
perspiration from her neck. "Do you think so? It is pretty hot out
here."
    Giving Larry a worried frown, Chloe crouched
beside him and stroked between his ears, working one-handed at the
plastic squeeze bottle strapped to her waist. "I didn't mean to
wear you out, boy. Maybe you do need a sports drink to keep up your
strength, if we're going to keep up this exercise routine."
    She aimed a squirt of bottled water between
Larry's sharp canine teeth, then straightened while he licked his
muzzle. "Doggie Gatorade is a good idea," she told Nick. "It would
be better than plain water, at least for long walks. For replacing
electrolytes and things."
    "And you'd be just crazy enough to try
it."
    She frowned and stuck out her tongue at
him.
    Larry, apparently feeling refreshed, wagged
and walked circles around Chloe as they talked. The auto-wind leash
spun out more and more line, creating a frayed purple web around
her white pom-pommed sweat socks and sneakers.
    "Crazy in a good way," Nick elaborated with
a grin as she raised the bottle to her mouth and sucked down some
water for herself. He watched her lips pucker around the bottle
top, and then made himself look away. He'd never envied a hunk of
plastic before.
    "I think you'd do almost anything to take
care of your menagerie here," he said when she'd finished, mostly
to distract himself from the surprisingly erotic sight of her
tongue depressing the bottle's snap top. "Even tote along Gatorade
for Larry."
    "But a dog's physiology is completely
different than a person's, Nick," Chloe said, stepping out of the
middle of Larry's twisted leash with a grace that bespoke frequent
practice. She straightened her flowery baseball cap, lassoed the
dog, and started walking again. "I'm afraid a sports drink
formulated for people wouldn't be good for him. Too bad,
though."
    Too bad he'd brought it up, that is. He
hadn't expected a twenty-minute heart-to-heart about something