Читать книгу Bedded By The Boss - Jennifer Lewis, Yvonne Lindsay - Страница 15
ОглавлениеBent over the sink in the office bathroom, Sara suffered another sudden surge of nausea. She was exhausted, drained, run-down.
And more than three months pregnant.
Until her visit to the doctor that afternoon, the possibility of a pregnancy had never crossed her mind. She’d bled after all, just not as much as usual, and the bleeding never really seemed to go away. She’d felt ill from time to time, but she’d put it down to stress and lack of sleep. After what seemed like a few weeks of intermittent on-and-off period she went to her gynecologist.
Diagnosis: Pregnancy.
The bleeding was abnormal and her doctor’s concern showed in her face. Sara had no idea what showed on her own face: astonishment, disbelief, possibly horror.
She was bustled into an ultrasound room and unceremoniously stripped and smeared with gel so the bizarre events taking place inside her could be examined in scientific detail.
All disbelief vanished when she saw it on the ultrasound monitor. My baby. Its little heart pumping visibly, its tiny limbs already distinguishable, curved under its big head.
Her panicked gasping had frightened the ultrasound technician.
“Don’t worry, dear,” the nurse said softly. She was soft all over, from her gloved hands to her fluffy blond hair. “The uterine environment looks quite normal. Some people do continue spotting for some weeks with no known cause. There’s no apparent danger to your pregnancy.”
Her reassuring words penetrated Sara’s consciousness, but they only made tears rise in her throat. A turmoil of unfamiliar emotions racked her body. Guilt that she hadn’t spared a thought for the “uterine environment.” A fearful recoil at the alien life secreted in her belly for so long without her knowledge. And—even more alarming—a fierce tug of intense affection for the tiny person growing inside her.
She stumbled back to the office to prepare a report for a meeting the following morning. It hadn’t occurred to her to do otherwise. That was before the reality of the situation sank in. Before she found herself sitting at her desk, unable to focus her eyes, confused thoughts crowding her brain and terror twisting her gut. Before she sprinted into the bathroom, overwhelmed by nausea and the horrifying reality that everything in her life was about to change.
Had already changed.
She couldn’t keep working this hard. She was endangering not only her health, but that of her baby. The report for tomorrow’s meeting would have to wait. She’d apologize, say she was ill. But she’d sneak out and call in her regrets from home because she just couldn’t face Elan right now.
She wasn’t sure if she could ever face him again.
All his cruel assumptions about her on her first day had proven horrifyingly accurate. She had lusted after him and seduced him. She’d risked the career opportunity of a lifetime for a few hours of pleasure.
Gambled with her life for one night in his arms.
And I am carrying Elan’s baby.
The thought hit her for the first time like a splash of icy water. Somehow in the terrible excitement of discovering she was pregnant she’d managed not to think about the other person responsible for the life growing inside her.
How would he react? With shock, most likely. With horror, no doubt. Her disgrace was total.
She quickly stripped off her suit and put on her cycling clothes and sneakers, then shoved her suit into her backpack with far less care than usual. It wouldn’t fit for much longer anyway.
She splashed her face with water and pulled her hair into a ponytail. Her eyes were red and her skin blotchy with distress. Hopefully she could get away without running into anyone.
She emerged from the bathroom and dashed for the elevator. She hugged herself, struggled to keep her breathing even, to keep tears at bay until she left the office.
But the elevator arrived with Elan inside it.
He strode out, then paused. “Sara, you don’t look well.”
“Yes.” Her voice emerged as a whisper.
Guilt and terror paralyzed her limbs. Her secret swelled inside her, threatening to inflate like a giant blow-up and knock her over.
“Perhaps you’re working too hard?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Um…” She couldn’t seem to formulate a sentence that didn’t contain the words I’m having your baby.
I’ve got to get out of here.
A massive surge of adrenaline flooded her limbs with the urge to shove past him into the elevator and escape. Her heart thundered as she zeroed in on the dimly lit cavern that was her only escape route. If she could just get in there and let those doors close behind her.…
Elan stood barring the way, his brow lowered with concern.
“You’re ill. You should not ride your bike. I’ll drive you home.”
“No!” She spat the word, as images of their last car ride together assaulted her. Elan, shirt unbuttoned to reveal his hard chest. His broad hand on the wheel.
His sperm swimming toward her egg.
“I’ll be fine. The exercise will do me good. Do you mind if I…” she stammered, able to focus only on the dark emptiness of the elevator that would carry her away from a drama she wasn’t ready to take her part in.
He stood aside. Was that relief on his face? “We have no matters that can’t wait until tomorrow.”
“Thanks.” She dove past him. He let go of the elevator door he’d been holding for her. She saw him turn and look at her, his brow furrowed, as the doors closed.
She sagged against the cold metal walls as the elevator hummed into motion.
Oh, I’m not ill. I’m just pregnant with your child.
“You’re kidding me,” said Erin, after a very long pause. Her sister was the first person she’d called. As a single mother herself, Sara figured Erin would be able to relate.
“Would I kid about something like this?” Sara paced back and forth in her small apartment, trying not to bump her hip on the kitchen countertop or pull the phone off the wall. She couldn’t keep still. Too jumpy.
“You’re pregnant? By who? You only just moved there and you weren’t dating anyone here. Or were you?”
“No. I haven’t dated anyone since I broke up with Mike last year.” She paused to look out the window. The sun was sinking behind the mountains; soon the town would be plunged into darkness. She swallowed hard, twisted the phone cord in her hands. “I slept with my boss.”
“Your boss? I thought your boss was the owner of the company.”
“Yes,” she rasped. It sounded even worse out loud than it did in her head.
“Isn’t he some millionaire oil tycoon?”
“Yes.” She closed her eyes.
“Is he, like, fifty years old or something?”
“No, of course not. He’s thirty-two.” And handsome. And irresistible.
And he despises me.
“So, jeez, is this like, a relationship?”
“No.” She tugged at the phone cord, her eyes starting to sting. She bit the inside of her mouth to stem any tears. “It was a one-night thing. A mistake.”
She heard Erin blow out a deep breath. “Wow. That’s just so…not like you.”
“Tell me about it. I’ve worked my butt off to get this job, and you know how much we need the money. But there was something about him…” Her voice trailed off and she sucked in a breath.
“He must be hot. What’s his name?”
“Elan.” Just saying his name made her face flood with heat. Guilt.
“Wow. Is he married?”
“No! Do you really think I would sleep with a married man?” A rush of indignation made her shove her hand through her hair.
“I didn’t think you’d sleep with your boss.”
Me neither.
“You haven’t told him yet, have you?”
“No. You’re the first person I’ve told. He’s not going to be happy, and that’s an understatement. After it happened he said we should never mention it again.”
“You could sue for sexual harassment.” Her sister’s voice was low, serious.
“I can’t. He actually predicted something like this might happen. He didn’t want a young female assistant for that very reason and he tried to get me transferred on my first day. I told him that if my behavior was at all unprofessional—” She sucked in a breath. “He could fire me on the spot.”
“Oh, Sara.” There was a pause. Sara heard her little nephew say something and his mom whispered a quick reply, then came back on the line. “Don’t tell him. Seriously, you don’t want to lose your medical insurance at a time like this. Trust me on this one. Been there, done that. I don’t know what I would have done without Derek helping me out.”
“Derek’s going to have a cow, isn’t he?” Derek, their oldest brother, had been like a second father to her. More of a father than her real one. He’d worked so hard, taking a second job to help the family through one crisis after another. They’d all been blindsided by Erin’s unexpected pregnancy followed by their mother’s diagnosis with lymphoma. Sara cringed at the thought of dealing him another blow.
“Derek is a rock. He never said a single negative thing when I got pregnant. He’s been there for me every step of the way. We’ll all support you. Kristin can look after your baby while you work. She’ll be able to have her entire in-home daycare be our kids—it’ll be fun. I’ve missed you so much. You are going to move home, aren’t you?”
A question that had zinged around her mind from the moment she learned the news. How could she not move home and be with her family?
But then again, how could she?
“There are no jobs in my field there.” She looked out the window at the harsh desert landscape, mountain peaks dark against the shimmering sky. So beautiful.
“Bates Electronics will take you back.”
“But I won’t make enough to pay down Mom’s hospital bills. I know we’re all trying to contribute, but my salary is by far the highest. And then there are my college loans. All of you have your own responsibilities to deal with.”
“You don’t always have to be a superwoman, you know? It’s okay to be human.”
No, it’s not. I made that mistake one night in the desert.
“I don’t think Elan will fire me. If he was going to, he’d have done it already. I promised him on my first day that I wouldn’t so much as flirt with him. I guess he has women throwing themselves at him all the time, I just can’t believe I turned out to be one of them.”
“He sounds like a piece of work. I’d like to get my hands on him.”
Erin’s gritty threat almost made her laugh. “That’s how this whole thing got started, I’m afraid.” She took a deep breath. “I’m going to tell him about the pregnancy tomorrow.”
“Oh, Sara.” Her spirited sister’s voice withered. “You know Gavin dumped me when I told him.”
Sara rubbed her eyes. “I know. I just hope I can be as strong as you.”
Okay, this is it. You’re going to march right into his office and say it. I’m pregnant.
Sara inhaled a shaky breath as the elevator climbed. She’d deliberately come in late, so he’d be there and she wouldn’t have time to sit around at her desk and think of reasons not to tell him. She’d even bicycled here in a smart pantsuit so she’d be “dressed for the occasion.” Unfortunately, there was now a black chain print smudged near the inside of the right ankle. She’d deal with that later.
The elevator doors opened, and her anxiety turned to chilling surprise.
Her desk, which had sat right in front of the elevator, was now moved to one side, sharing the space with a second identical desk. The piles of papers covering her workspace threatened to keel over onto the stark gray surface of the new desk pushed up next to it.
“Sara.” Elan’s large form dominated even the cavernous space of the foyer. His greeting caused her heart to pound louder.
I’m pregnant.
But she couldn’t tell him now because there was another person in the room.
“This is Mrs. Dixon,” Elan said. A satisfied smile roamed across his mouth. “She’s a new member of our team. Her title is Executive Assistant.”
Sara’s blood froze. Was she being replaced?
“Mrs. Dixon will perform the secretarial duties that were your responsibility. Answering my phone, preparing my correspondence, filing my papers and such.”
Sara struggled to keep her face expressionless. And what will I do?
“You will focus your time and energy on special projects I assign you. This arrangement is somewhat inconvenient,” he indicated the two desks with a sweep of his hand. His gold watch glinted beneath a starched cuff. “But it’s temporary. I’d like you to gain more experience in the field, to become familiar with the day-to-day operations at our job sites.”
Sara blinked, the lights suddenly too bright for her eyes. She glanced at Mrs. Dixon. Steel-gray hair sprayed into a bouffant, mouth pursed into a prim line, the stiffly suited older woman regarded her with what looked like distaste.
I prefer my executive assistant to be a woman with decades of experience, and preferably gray hairs on her head.
Elan’s words on that first day flew into her head.
She was being replaced. And banished. He meant to be rid of her, and since she wouldn’t quit he planned to send her away to “gain experience.” And he’d installed her replacement before she was even gone.
“Your salary will increase, of course.” Elan’s words jerked her attention back to him. He surveyed her through narrowed eyes. “Commensurate with your new responsibilities and the inconvenience of frequent travel.”
Frequent travel. On a plane. Her gut clenched at the prospect. Is this how he meant to drive her away? To play on her one weakness?
“It is a promotion, though your title will remain the same.” An overhead spotlight threw his arrogant features into harsh relief as a smile crossed his lips.
A promotion. Higher pay. A reward for excellence?
Or a smoke screen to cover his plan to force her resignation?
“Thank you. I look forward to the new challenges,” she said stiffly.
“Good. I have a meeting to attend. Please familiarize Mrs. Dixon with the workings of our office. I’ll be at home this afternoon as I have a new mare being delivered. You may handle my calls for me.”
With a brusque nod, he strode toward the elevator leaving Sara alone with…
The Other Woman.
She wanted to laugh. Her rival was not the long-lashed, pouty-lipped casino bunny she might have imagined. No. She was a heavily powdered, sturdy-legged matron of at least fifty-five.
“Pleased to meet you,” she said, holding out her hand to Mrs. Dixon.
“Likewise.” Mrs. Dixon’s hair remained firmly in place as she nodded a greeting and met Sara’s sweating palm with her own cool, meaty hand. “Have you worked here long?”
“Nearly five months.”
Oh, and I’m having his baby, by the way.
How would she ever tell him now? With this steel-haired battle-ax perched outside the office door, ear probably glued to the intercom?
As hers had once been.
“I have thirty-five years of experience assisting executives.” Mrs. Dixon’s thin lips pressed together for a moment as she glanced from Sara’s travel-wrinkled suit to the teetering piles of folders and correspondence on her desk. “We’ll soon get this office whipped into shape.”
I have to tell him. Today.
She pumped down on the pedals, pushing her bike along the dusty road that cut through the sagebrush-strewn desert. She pedaled slowly, trying to conserve her energy, trying not to work up too much of a sweat as the summer sun glared down at her from the fierce blue sky. It was already eleven o’clock, the journey taking longer than she’d expected. When she’d looked up Elan’s address she hadn’t realized his ranch was so far from town. But she had to go there and tell him away from the prying eyes of their coworkers.
She’d tried, time and time again over the past two weeks, to get a moment alone with Elan behind the closed door of his office. But Mrs. Dixon hovered around him like a ministering angel, bearing cups of steaming coffee, bags of dry-cleaned shirts and freshly collated reports. She even took shorthand, which seemed to delight Elan, who now dictated most of his personal correspondence instead of typing it himself on his computer. There was no escaping the woman, whose old-school solicitude was a stark contrast to Sara’s own ambitious careerism.
And Elan was using her ambition as a rope to hang her with. She was scheduled to leave next Thursday for three weeks on an offshore rig in the Gulf of Mexico. After that she was headed to Canada, for a long stint at three different sites there. The opportunity was exciting, she couldn’t deny it, but it was sure to be a challenge in ways she probably couldn’t even imagine. No question, he was pushing her, testing her, trying to find her limits.
He’d wanted her gone, and now she would be. Good. No more struggling to keep her eyes off the broad strength of his shoulders, the dexterous power of his hands, the dark magnetism of his gaze.
What a relief. So why the hollow ache inside her at the thought of leaving?
Probably that hollow space was there because she’d been up half the night drafting projections for a new client, with nothing more than a quick plate of fruit and cheese to keep her going.
She didn’t think he’d fire her when he heard her news. She’d been at the company long enough to know that for all his brash demeanor Elan treated his employees with scrupulous fairness. There were several pregnant women in the office and he’d even raised the idea of an on-site daycare to encourage employee retention.
His objections would be personal.
If he was trying to force her out now, how would he react when he knew her secret? Even if he didn’t fire her, he might push just hard enough to get her on that train home to Wisconsin.
Telling him was risky, but she wasn’t the kind of person who could sit on a secret like this. It was his child, too, and he deserved to know of its existence.
She’d reached a flat expanse of land on which she couldn’t see a man-made structure of any kind, let alone a house befitting a wealthy tycoon. Was she lost?
She hadn’t phoned to tell him she was coming. She’d figured the surprise of her unexpected appearance would only herald the other, far more dramatic surprise that she had in store for him. But if she didn’t find the place soon, the surprise would be finding her bleached bones out on the burning sands.
As she came to the top of a slight rise she spied movement off in the distance. Dark lines of pipe fencing crisscrossed the desert, marking boundaries on the open plain. She squinted against the high sun, trying to make out the shadowy shapes that darted to and fro in the distance.
A man and a horse.
A dark horse and a dark-skinned man silhouetted against the sun-bleached landscape. Gradually she saw the shape of the house emerge from its surroundings. Sand-colored, it blended almost totally into the environment. Other horses sheltered in the dark shade of earth-toned structures that became visible as she drew closer.
A trickle of sweat pricked at her spine, and her heart raced as much from fear as from physical exertion as she drew closer to her quarry.
He hadn’t seen her.
Elan stood in the center of a round pen. The dark-red horse ran on the end of a long lead, as he chased it around in circles. When the horse slowed or tried to turn away from him, he cracked a whip to drive it forward.
His attention focused totally on the horse, he didn’t look up even as she dismounted her bike. She leaned it against the sand-colored wall of the imposing bunkerlike structure that she assumed must be his house.
She approached slowly, her heart thundering against her ribs. The pen Elan worked in stood a good hundred yards away and she struggled to put one foot in front of the other and cover what suddenly seemed like an impossibly large distance.
She couldn’t back out this time. Wouldn’t leave until she’d told him.
“Yah!”
His shout startled her and she jumped. But he’d shouted at the horse. His expression frightened her, brows low over eyes narrowed against the bright sun, chin jutted in an expression of determination.
Her gaze dropped lower. He wore only a pair of dusty black jeans. His bare torso shone with sweat in the blazing midday heat. His hair was damp, black tendrils plastered to his forehead. He raised a muscled arm and buried his face in the crook of his elbow, streaking a mix of sweat and dirt across his face as he raised his focus again to his horse.
And then he saw her.
The rein to the horse went slack and the animal slowed to a halt. Elan raised his hand higher to shield his eyes from the sun and squinted at her as if doubting his vision.
“Sara?”
Her heart tripped over itself and her breathing quickened as she walked to him on unsteady legs. “Yes.”
“What brings you to my home?” Still squinting against the sun, he started to stride toward her. The horse, however, had other ideas and tossed its head, almost jerking the rein from his hand.
Elan jerked back and let fly a string of words in a language she didn’t know. “This mare, she has the stubbornness of an ox, the disdain of a camel!”
Sara looked at the mare. She had her head raised and one eye firmly fixed on Elan in an attitude of visibly insolent disregard. “I’m training her to see if she’s suitable to breed to my stallions.”
“But she has other ideas?” Sara raised an eyebrow. She was relieved by the minor distraction of talking about the horse. An icebreaker, if ice could even be imagined in the blazing heat of the desert.
“Yes. She’d like to train me to leave her alone with her food.” Elan’s lips curved into a smile. The mare seized the opportunity to turn her backside to him. Elan cracked the whip and goaded her into a swift canter around the pen, then brought her to a halt.
“There’s no point in breeding a horse that cannot safely be ridden, no matter how lovely her conformation,” he continued, as he gathered up the length of rein and led the horse across the pen to where Sara stood.
“She’s beautiful.”
“Yes, but beauty without loyalty can break hearts—and bones.” He smiled broadly and patted the horse’s neck. “She’ll bend to my will. It’s only a matter of time. I feed her, I care for her, give her shelter from the sun. She will learn these things come with a price, and she’ll learn to pay it.”
Sara nodded and looked at the beautiful sorrel mare, who tossed her head constantly, obviously hating the confinement of her halter. Her heart swelled with pity for the creature that wanted to be free, but would have to learn that her days of illusory freedom were over.
She knew that feeling.
At that instant the child stirred inside her, a strange new fluttering sensation that tugged her attention back to her purpose. Her fingers drifted instinctively to the place where her baby was secreted in her belly. Elan’s eyes narrowed as they followed the motion, and she yanked the traitorous hand behind her back.
“I need to talk to you.” Her gut tightened and her breathing slowed, making her light-headed.
“Yes?”
“Can we…I know you’re busy, but can we…go inside?” She couldn’t stand there in the heat much longer without keeling over. Her fingers and toes stung with needle pricks of awful anticipation and her heart bumped almost painfully against her ribs.
“Of course.” He paused for a moment, regarding her steadily. “I’ll put Leila in her paddock.” The expression on his face showed that he realized it was a serious matter. Elan was not a man to waste words teasing out the reason for her visit. They walked in silence together as he penned the horse and removed its halter.
The shade of the barn was a merciful relief from the unrelenting heat of the sun. He hung up the halter and lead in a tack room, then glanced down at his dusty, sweaty body.
“Please excuse me a moment.” He picked up a hose and turned the spray directly on himself. A few stray drops splashed on Sara and the icy coldness of it startled her.
Rivulets of water streamed over his back and down the taut muscles of his torso as he held the hose above his skin. He bent his head forward and ran the water directly into his hair, ruffling it with his fingers and sighing as the cool liquid touched his scalp.
A rush of heat made Sara cringe as her body responded so predictably to the sight of his impressive physique as he cooled and cleaned his skin with the fresh water.
When he turned the hose off, his jeans were soaked down to midthigh and his upper body glistened with clear droplets. Sara struggled to keep her breathing inaudible as she watched the water drip sensuously over the curves of his thick muscles. Drops traced the deep hollow of his spine down to where his wet jeans hugged his rounded backside.
As he turned, her eyes automatically followed the trails of water that gathered between his pectorals and slid into the line of black hair tracing the distance from his belly button to the fly of his low-slung jeans.
She really was a hopeless case.
“Come this way,” he said. Mercifully he didn’t look at her long enough to notice the effect of his impromptu shower on her sanity.
He kicked off his boots outside a wide, arched doorway, then pushed open the door and ushered her inside. The thick earthen walls that blended so easily with the desert opened into a softly lit, cavernous space. A fountain trickled steadily in the center of the room, creating a cool and peaceful atmosphere. Subtle earth-toned patterns ornamented the bare walls.
“It’s beautiful,” breathed Sara, her eyes wide. “Should I take my shoes off?” The space felt like a sanctuary. It was, no doubt, Elan’s refuge from the pressures of the business world.
“If you wish.”
She slid off her sneakers and her tired feet reveled in the sensation of deliciously cool stone under their soles. Elan strode across the tiled floor toward another arched doorway.
“Come in here.” He held a door open. She accidentally brushed against his arm as she moved past him. The drops of water that passed from his skin to hers sizzled as his touch stung her with a surge of electrical energy.
“Please sit and relax. I’ll be right back.”
Two vast leather sofas flanked a fireplace outlined in pale marble. A wall of windows was shaded from the sun by gauzy pale curtains that moved in the air-conditioned breeze.
She seated herself gingerly on one of the sofas, the leather cool against her skin. The painting above the fireplace looked like a Mark Rothko original, a cool square of blue hovering in a field of gray.
Elan returned wearing a clean pair of jeans and nothing else. Drops of water still glittered on his torso. His uncombed hair fell seductively to his eyes. What did she expect? She’d invaded his home without asking, interrupted his work, did she think he’d put on a suit for her?
He carried two frosted glasses of water. “Here, drink this.”
She took it from him, icy drops stinging her fingertips. He sat on the opposite sofa and leaned back, broad bare shoulders sprawled on the dark leather. He took a sip of water and looked at her expectantly.
Silence hung in the air and a surge of panic shot through her as she realized the time had come for her confession. She cleared her throat and placed her glass on the floor with an awkward clunk.
“Er, Elan…” Blood rushed around her brain as she struggled to keep her thoughts coherent. She’d tried rehearsing what to say, but her attempts always dissolved into panicked babbling or tearful self-pity. This was no time for self-pity. She took a deep breath and straightened her spine. “I have something to tell you.”
His brow furrowed. She waited for him to interject a polite response, along the lines of “Oh?” or “What is it?” but he didn’t. He merely took another sip of his water and regarded her steadily through hooded eyes.
“I…I don’t know how to tell you this…” she paused again and wrapped her arms around herself as if assaulted by a cold gust of wind. Elan’s eyes narrowed and he put his glass down. He adjusted the waist of his jeans against his hard, tanned belly and leaned forward a little. Expectant.
The baby shifted, flooding her with resolve.
“I’m pregnant.”
He blinked. Other than that he didn’t move a muscle. He stared at her, and his eyes searched her face. A furrow appeared above one eyebrow. Sara shrank inside. Did he not believe her?
“I…I…I’m four months along.”
His brow creased into a deep frown and his lips parted. His eyes darted down to her belly, which she realized she was clutching, then back up to her face.
Sara struggled to find the words to make it seem real. “I’m going to have a baby.”
The words hung in the air for a few seconds as he continued to gaze at her in astonishment. Then he sprang to his feet and strode across the room, bare feet on the stone floor.
He still hadn’t uttered a word.
Sara shriveled inwardly and dropped her eyes to the floor as she heard his footfalls moving away from her. She’d tried and failed to imagine what his reaction might be. She’d never seen him fly into a rage at the office. His anger was always quiet and controlled, a fire burning deep within.
Was he angry?
She sneaked a glance across the room, and at that very moment he wheeled around and stared at her. His eyes were blazing, his face set in a stony expression that was unreadable, frightening.
“You’ve carried this secret for four months?” The words seemed to emerge from a closed mouth, hissed between tight lips.
“I’ve only known for two weeks,” she whispered. Her heart clenched as she saw a shadow of confusion cross his features. He stared at her a few more seconds, then turned abruptly away again. He strode around the perimeter of the large room and approached her until he was standing over her, his shadow invading her space.
“May I see your belly?” His voice emerged low and quiet, yet clearly a demand. His request wasn’t polite, but then it wasn’t a gracious situation. Sara rose to her feet ungracefully. She knew her face was blazing as she lifted her T-shirt and pushed down the waistband of her bike shorts.
She avoided his eyes and looked down at her belly. It looked so vulnerable, pale and soft, a slight curve that announced the presence of a third person in the room.
Elan slowly lifted his right hand and reached out to her abdomen with his fingers extended. She heard his intake of breath as the tips came to rest on her skin. Gradually, gently, he lowered his hand until it covered her belly, cupping the roundness.
Her womb stirred under his touch. A sudden rush of sensation flooded her limbs. She struggled to keep her breathing under control. Didn’t dare look at his face. Her nipples tightened involuntarily and she tore her eyes away, desperate that he not see the way her body responded to the gentle pressure of his hand.
For, even now, Elan’s touch made her body hum with thrilling awareness. A dangerous awareness of his hard-sprung masculinity, his harsh beauty. Humbling awareness of the razor-sharp intellect that matched her own. But above all, awareness of the man who had loved her that night with a passion and tenderness that would haunt her as long as she walked the earth.
He pulled his hand back. “We must marry.”
The words, spoken low and fast, blew away the fog of sensation that had engulfed her.
“What?” She barely recognized her own voice. It sounded strangled, distant. With a tremendous effort of will she looked up at his face.
His eyes blazed with black fire. He looked directly at her, his features set in an expression of determination.
“You will be my wife.”
She fumbled with her shorts and T-shirt, covering the exposed flesh of her belly. She felt altogether naked and exposed in the face of his authoritarian command.
But she shook her head.
Elan’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t speak.
“I can’t marry you.” Her voice was clear, quiet but resolute.
“Why not?” The words flew from his mouth in a growl.
“Because…”
Because you don’t love me.
She couldn’t bring herself to say the words. Certainly in her mental anguish she’d imagined the possibility of a proposal. It was, after all, the honorable thing to do. And Elan was an honorable man.
She was “in trouble” and he was the man who’d gotten her that way. Even in the twenty-first century it was still common politeness that he should offer to give the child a name. It was the same reason her father had proposed to her mother, decades ago, when her oldest sister had come unexpectedly into existence.
Elan regarded her with total astonishment. His brow lowered farther as he raised his hands to his hips. “You refuse me?”
Sara swallowed hard. Her hands flew to her belly and clutched each other, fingers trembling. “Yes,” she whispered. “I can raise my child alone.”
The confusion that darkened his face tore at her heart. For an instant she itched to step toward him, throw her arms around him and shout “Yes, I’ll marry you, I’ll be your wife and bear all your children and we’ll live happily ever after!”
And the thought brought a fresh flush of color to her cheeks. A twinge of embarrassment that she could harbor such childish fantasies. That she could dream even momentarily of a happy future with a man who’d made it crystal clear that ardent women were the bane of his existence.
No doubt her mother had nurtured those same foolish fantasies when she’d chosen marriage over single motherhood—a miserable marriage that had drained her strength and kept her constantly pregnant or tending to a baby, despite her increasingly poor health. That had kept her chained to a cruel man who cheated on her and to a succession of low-paying part-time jobs that would never give her the means to escape.
Sara didn’t intend to make that same mistake.
