Читать книгу Married For Their Miracle Baby - Soraya Lane - Страница 8

CHAPTER TWO

SAFFRON OPENED HER eyes and quickly closed them. She groaned and pulled the covers over her head. She’d never had firsthand experience with what to do the morning after, and nothing clever was springing to mind. What had she been thinking?

“Morning.”

She took a deep breath and slowly slipped the covers down, clutching them tight to her chest as she sat up. Blake was standing in the doorway, looking just as chiseled and sexy and gorgeous as he had the night before. No wonder she’d ended up in his bed. He crossed the room and sat on the bed beside her.

“Ah, morning,” she finally stammered, clearing her throat and trying to pull herself together. She didn’t usually lack in confidence, but then again she didn’t usually have to deal with handsome men so early in the morning. Saffron ran her tongue over her teeth, wishing she could have had ten minutes in the bathroom before having to face Blake.

“So I need to show you something,” he said, eyebrows drawn together as he leaned closer.

It was only then she realized he was holding an iPad. Curious, she reached for it.

“What is it?”

“You know how we didn’t want to talk about our personal lives or our work?”

Saffy nodded. She didn’t understand what he was trying to tell her. Until she looked at the screen.

“Oh,” she blurted.

“I think we probably should have had that conversation,” Blake muttered. “Maybe we could have taken a back exit and made sure no one saw us.”

Saffy kept hold of the covers with one hand and swiped through the photos with the other. There was Blake with his hand to her back, Blake laughing, her laughing with her head tipped back and her eyes locked on his, and there was them getting into his town car. Paired with headlines screaming that Blake was one of the city’s most eligible bachelors and naming her as one of ballet’s finest forgotten stars. The description stung.

She swallowed away the emotion in her throat, the familiar burn behind her eyes that always hit when she thought about her career. When she passed the iPad back and glanced up at Blake, she wished she hadn’t.

“Hey, it’s not so bad,” he said, discarding the iPad and leaning over. He reached for her hand and lifted it, kissing the soft skin on the inside of her arm.

Saffy smiled. This was how she’d ended up in his bed! He was so smooth yet seemed so genuine at the same time, although hearing that he was such a prized bachelor only made her wonder if he’d expertly played her to get her into bed.

“You’re really upset about it, aren’t you? I was hoping you wouldn’t think it was that big a deal being papped.”

She shrugged. “I don’t care about being seen with you, or the photos. It’s the headlines that sting,” Saffy admitted.

Blake looked confused. “I’m not sure I’m following. You do realize that the whole bachelor thing has been completely blown out of proportion, right? It’s rubbish.”

Saffy shook her head. “It hurts to read that I’m a washed-up former ballerina. Sometimes the truth stings more than we realize.”

Blake kept hold of her hand, staring into her eyes. “You look far too young to be washed up, surely.”

“I’ll give you points for being kind, but I’m not too young, not in the ballet world. My body broke down on me, so I’m out.”

He chuckled. “By out, you mean injured, right? Taking some time out? From what I’ve read this morning, you’re pretty incredible.”

Now it was Saffy chuckling. “You’ve been googling me?”

He shrugged. “Yeah. I’m an early riser. I saw this, and I’ve been reading up about you ever since.”

She liked that he was at least honest. He could have lied and not admitted to it, but he was obviously curious about who he’d spent the night with. And if she was honest, she was starting to get pretty intrigued about him, too.

“What did it say?” Saffy wasn’t clutching the sheet quite so tightly now, not as concerned as she had been about him seeing her.

“From what I’ve read, you came to New York as a teenager, wowed all the right people and eventually landed your dream role as lead in Swan Lake last year.”

Saffron smiled. “Sounds about right.” She wasn’t sure she wanted to talk about it, not anymore. For years ballet had been her life, since she was a little girl in love with the idea of being a pretty dancer to a determined teenager and a dedicated adult. She’d lived and breathed her dream all her life, which was why she was at such a loss now. How did anyone move on if they’d lost the one thing that meant more to them than anything else?

Blake surprised her by stroking her face, his thumb caressing her cheek as he stared into her eyes. “I know the feeling.”

She smiled, but it was forced. There was no way he knew how she was feeling. “You don’t happen to have coffee, do you?” she asked, hoping he’d say yes then go and make her a cup so she had a little privacy.

“Sure do.” Blake pulled back then rose, and the moment was over. He looked down at her, his height imposing. He was already dressed, barefoot but wearing dark jeans and a plain white tee.

Saffy waited for him to go then quickly scanned for her clothes. She hardly even remembered how they’d gotten to the bedroom. From what she could recall, her dress was in the living room wherever he’d thrown it, but her underwear was somewhere in the bedroom. She jumped up, taking the sheet with her. It wasn’t until she had her underwear back on that she relaxed. Saffy looked around the room but he didn’t have any clothes scattered, so she opened his closet and grabbed a sweatshirt. It was fleecy on the inside with a zipper, and given the size on her, she had to zip it all the way just to cover her body. Then she dashed into his bathroom, splashed some water on her face and ran her fingers through her hair to tame it. Given the fact she’d just woken and didn’t have all her usual things with her, she didn’t think she looked too terrible.

“So I—” Blake’s deep voice cut off. “You look cute in my hoodie.”

“Sorry.” Saffron spun around, feeling guilty. “I should have asked first, but I didn’t want to walk out half-naked.”

Blake’s laugh made her smile. He waved her toward him and turned, and she followed him out to the living area. He had music playing softly, just audible, and she tried not to gape at the apartment all over again. It was incredible, and it oozed money. He pointed to the coffee machine.

“I can make an okay black coffee, but if you want something fancy, I’ll call downstairs.”

Saffron shook her head. “I don’t need fancy café coffee. Just give it to me however it comes, with a heaped teaspoon of sugar.”

“Not what I expected from a ballerina. I thought all dancers would think of sugar as the devil and have eating disorders.” Blake turned straight around then, his face full of apology. “Sorry, that was in bad taste. I didn’t mean it.”

She was used to it. “It’s fine, and it’s kind of true. There are plenty of dancers with problems.”

“Yeah, still. Bad form. Want to tell me what happened?” he asked, pushing a big mug of steaming coffee across the counter and shoving his hands into his jean pockets as he stood watching her on the other side. “Sounds to me like you’ve had a rough year.”

“Yeah, you could say that again,” Saffy muttered.

“I have waffles and bacon on their way up, so you can tell me over breakfast.”

She groaned. “Do I have to?”

His laugh made her smile. “Yeah, you kind of do.”

Saffron hated talking about what had happened, didn’t want to have to explain what she’d been through and what it meant for her, but breakfast did sound good and she wasn’t about to run out. Especially not if there were paparazzi waiting outside to see if she’d spent the night.

“We could talk about what happened last night instead,” he suggested, giving her a smile that made her want to slap him.

“Um, how about no?” she quipped straight back, heart racing.

“So let me guess,” Blake started, walking away from her when a buzz rang out. She tracked him with her eyes, admired how tall and built he was. His hair was thick and dark, a full mop of it, and whereas last night it had been styled, this morning it was all mussed up. She liked him even better less groomed, although he had looked pretty hot in a suit the night before.

The next thing he was pressing a button. “Just give me a sec,” Blake called over his shoulder before disappearing from the apartment.

Saffy let out a breath she hadn’t even known she was holding. She reached for her coffee and took a slow, long sip. It was hot, but the burn felt nice down her throat, helped her to calm down somehow.

She could run. It wouldn’t be her stupidest idea, and she could just grab her dress and bolt for it. Make up an excuse and dash past him. Get out of Dodge and never have to see him again or talk about what happened. She could even mail him back his hoodie, forget what she’d done. Only she wasn’t sure she wanted to. The last few months, after the worst of her pain had passed, she’d been bored and miserable. She was working on autopilot, making coffee and serving people food, seeing her dreams disappear. It hadn’t mattered what she’d done or how hard she’d tried, her leg hadn’t healed fast enough, the ligaments badly torn, and with arthritis on top of it making the pain debilitating at best.

Blake had reminded her she was alive. If she hadn’t met him, she’d have stayed another hour at the party, chatted with her friend, then gone home alone. Almost all her friends were dancers, and she wasn’t in that world anymore.

So she stayed put, only leaving her seat on one of Blake’s leather bar stools to retrieve her purse. It was tiny so she didn’t have a lot in there, but she did have her foundation stick and some lip gloss, and she was keen to use both to make herself look half-decent. Plus she needed to text Claire.

She laughed. Her friend had already sent her three text messages, first wondering where she was, then asking how fab her night had been after seeing the article on some lame website. Then asking if she needed to send out a search party. Trust Claire to be scanning those types of pages as she ate her breakfast in the morning.

She sent her a quick message back.

I’m fine. He’s gorgeous. Do you know anything about him?

The door clicked then, and she shoved her phone back in her purse. She hadn’t had time to google him, and not being a native New Yorker, she didn’t know the company name he’d mentioned the night before. He didn’t strike her as a spoiled rich kid—more like a man who’d made his own money or his own way in the world, and she wanted to know more. Especially how he’d come to be listed as an eligible bachelor worthy of paparazzi.

“Breakfast is served,” he announced.

Saffron stood and made her way back to the bar stool. “Mmm, smells delicious.” Now she had clothes and some makeup on, she was a lot less self-conscious.

“Waffles with whipped caramel cream and fresh fruit. I went with sweet.” His grin was naughty and she laughed at him.

“Can I just set the record straight about last night,” she said, cringing at the way the words had come out.

“Sure. But you don’t have to explain anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

She sighed, taking the plate he held out to her. It did look delicious, the waffles thick and square, with pineapple and blueberries piled beside a swirl of the cream. “I just don’t want you to think I do this sort of thing all the time.”

He joined her around the other side of the counter, sitting down and passing her a knife and fork. “I kind of got that impression when you were peeking out at me from beneath the covers this morning with a horrified look on your face.”

“Really?” She had to give it to him—he hadn’t turned out to be a jerk the morning after.

Blake leaned over, smiling before dropping his mouth to hers, not giving her a second to hesitate. His lips were warm and tasted of coffee, his hand soft as he cupped the back of her head. He kissed the breath from her then pulled back, lips hovering as he stared down at her. Saffy felt the burn of heat as it spread up her neck, every inch of her body tingling from the unexpected kiss.

“You’re too cute,” he said with a grin, digging into breakfast like he hadn’t just kissed her as if it was their last kiss on earth.

“And you’re too suave for your own good,” she muttered, stabbing her waffle with the fork, irate that he’d had such a visceral effect on her. “I’m guessing most of the women you bed are happy to drag you into bed the moment they lock eyes on you.”

She had no idea why she was so mad with him when all he’d done was kiss her, but something about his attitude had gotten under her skin.

“Hey,” he said, setting down his fork and turning to face her. “I meant it as a compliment, not to get you all fired up.”

She went back to her breakfast, ignoring him.

“And I haven’t exactly had the chance to meet a whole lot of ladies since I’ve been back. First I moved back home, then when I finally took over this place, I was spending more hours in the office than anywhere else. I haven’t had time for socializing, other than when I’ve had to for work.”

“You mentioned you were in the army,” she said, calmed down and not so ready to jump down his throat. She’d seriously overreacted before.

“In another lifetime, yeah,” he said, but he looked away as if he wasn’t at all interested in talking about that other life. “Anyway, we’re supposed to be talking about you. Tell me what happened. Why aren’t you dancing now?”

* * *

Blake was intrigued. He’d bedded her already, and most of the time that was when his interest stopped, but she was something else. Even before he’d seen the blog post about them leaving the benefit together, which his sister had been so kind as to forward to him with a message that this one sounded a whole lot more promising than the airheads he’d been photographed with other times.

Blake kept eating his waffles, not wanting to stare at her and make her uncomfortable. He believed her that this wasn’t her usual scene—she’d looked like a deer in headlights when he’d come back into the bedroom after hearing that she’d woken. His first instinct had been to dive straight back under the covers, until he’d seen her face and changed his mind. He still wanted her—he just wasn’t going to be so forward.

Having a late breakfast with her and relaxing for once was making it clear he’d been way too focused on work the last few months. He’d become so determined not to buckle under the pressure and settle down, just because it would be good for business, but he was starting to realize he’d been missing out.

Saffron’s red hair looked darker in the morning. Maybe it was the lack of bright lights, but it still looked incredible. The richest color against skin the lightest, barely there shade of gold, and dark brown eyes that just kept on drawing him in. He cleared his throat and set down his fork.

“Come on, what happened? Maybe I can help?” He doubted it, but he wanted to hear the story, and if she needed help finding work or someone to assist her with whatever injury she had, he did have helpful contacts.

His phone buzzed and he quickly glanced at it, not wanting to be rude by picking it up. He could read just enough of the text to see it was from his assistant and that the investor he’d been trying to impress had seen the paparazzi story. Great. Just when he’d been making some headway, now he was going to be labeled the rich playboy again.

“Nobody can help me,” she said in a low voice. “Most dancers get injured and that’s it, they’re injured. Me, I’m out. Which means my career is over, because soon I’ll have to go home with my tail between my legs, the washed-up former ballerina. I don’t have enough money to stay here without working, and my physical therapy and specialist bills are crazy.”

Blake frowned, forgetting the text and focusing on Saffron. “There’s no other way for you to stay here?”

Saffron picked at her food, taking a mouthful that he was sure was a delaying tactic. When she finally looked up at him, her eyes were swimming. Big brown pools of hurt, bathed in unshed tears.

“I had a dream of dancing with the best ballet companies in the world, right from when I was a kid. I used to practice so hard, train my heart out and eventually it paid off.” He listened as she blew out a big breath, sending a few tendrils of shorter hair around her face up into the air. “My hours of practicing got me noticed at the Lexington Ballet School in Kentucky, and eventually it turned into a dance scholarship with the New York Ballet Company. I started training there, danced my heart out and eventually went on to be an apprentice by the time I was eighteen.”

“Wait, you moved to New York on your own before you were even eighteen? How old were you when you got the scholarship?” He knew plenty of models and other creative types started their careers early, but he’d never really thought about teenagers making such a big leap on their own. “Your parents didn’t come, too?”

She shook her head. “Nope. Just me. I stayed with a relative for the first few months, then I moved into an apartment with some other dancers. I was only seventeen when I officially went out on my own, but I was so determined and focused on what I was doing that my parents didn’t have any other choice. I would have resented them for the rest of my life if they hadn’t let me come.”

He got that. They’d let her follow her dream, and he admired any parent who encouraged their kids. “And then what? You make it sound like your career has already ended, like there isn’t any hope.” Blake hated hearing her talk as if it was over. She was doing what she wanted to be doing, and nobody was trying to hold her back, stifle her dreams.

“I tore three ligaments in my leg one night when I was dancing Swan Lake. I was finally in the role I wanted, as the lead, and I didn’t even dance for an entire season at the top before my accident.” She was looking away now, couldn’t seem to meet his gaze. Blake wanted to reach for her, but he didn’t, couldn’t. The pain of what he’d lost and left behind was too raw for him, and he was barely coping with it on his own without having to help someone else.

“You could recover from that,” he said gently, careful to choose the right words.

“No, I won’t. I have a form of arthritis that I’ve battled for years. It first showed when I was stressed over a big performance, and in the past my doctors have been able to manage it. But from what I’ve been told, we’re past that point now. That’s why I’m out, why they wouldn’t just let me stay on leave due to injury. They don’t ever expect me to make a full recovery.”

Blake steeled his jaw, hating that someone had had the nerve to put a damper on her dreams. On anyone’s dreams. As far as he was concerned, the fight was worth it until the very last.

“You need to see more specialists, research more treatment, get your body strong again,” he told her, wishing his voice didn’t sound so raspy and harsh. “You can’t take no for an answer when you’re so close to living that dream.”

Her eyes were angry, glaring when she met his gaze. “Don’t you think I’ve done everything? As much as I could?”

He held up both his hands. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to jump down your throat like that. I just...”

“I don’t need to be told what to do,” she said angrily, still holding his stare. “The only thing that will save me now is winning the lottery or a miracle. Money is the only way I can stay a part of this world, to keep searching for help, trying to keep training. Either money or a new treatment to help me get back on stage.” She slumped forward, looked defeated. “Instead I’ll be back in Hicksville, the girl who had so much potential and still ended up a nobody.”

Blake bunched his fists, wished there was something he could do. He didn’t know why her situation made him so angry, but it did.

Just then his phone buzzed and he glanced at it quickly. He read the screen, cursed his sister for wanting to be so involved in his love life.

So? Spill! Is she really a ballerina? She looked gorgeous. Keep this one!

Blake didn’t bother replying, not about to engage with his younger sister over anything personal. And then he looked up and found Saffron watching him, her full lips parted, dark eyes trained on his.

She needed a way to stay in New York. He needed a wife.

He pushed his sister from his mind and pulled his bar stool closer to Saffron’s, thinking that she was the most intriguing, beautiful woman he’d met in a long time. He didn’t want to be married to anyone, but the truth was, he needed to be. That text just before was a slap-in-the-face kind of reminder. He was at the helm of a family business that was worth tens of millions of dollars, and he needed to maintain the right image. They were negotiating for a huge contract, one worth millions over the next two years alone, not to mention the investors he was trying to bring on board to grow the business. But his biggest potential investor had made it beyond clear that he was worried about Blake’s playboy status, didn’t like the fact that he wasn’t settled down and married. They were rich men with strong family values, the kind his own father had always managed to impress. Being married could be the key to finalizing those deals, and no matter how much he’d tried to pretend otherwise, it was true, which meant he had some serious damage control to do.

He reached for his coffee and drained it. Real marriage wasn’t something he wanted, hadn’t been on his agenda since the day his first love had walked away from him as though what they’d had meant nothing. He could still feel the cool sting of betrayal as if it was yesterday. But if he could package a marriage of convenience into something that could work for both him and Saffron? Now that was something he’d be willing to do.