A Nine-Month Temptation

by Joanne Rock

  * * *

  This was all moving too fast.

  Sable didn’t want to appear ungrateful for Roman’s generosity, but she absolutely couldn’t allow him to step into a role where she could grow dependent on him. Jack had been her husband and she couldn’t count on him. She sure as hell couldn’t trust that Roman Zayn, her too-sexy boss with no legal tie to her at all, would follow through on what he proposed.

  Better to remain independent.

  “I can’t do that.” She twirled her fork through the fettucine noodles. “And I need more time before I make any big decisions about what’s next.”

  “But you don’t want to be in the middle of the move when you’re eight months pregnant. Wouldn’t it be best to relocate somewhere else soon, so you have time to get settled without exhausting yourself?”

  It was a valid point. And yet...

  “Could we revisit that in a couple of weeks?” She was stressed enough about the pregnancy without heaping more decisions on top of it. “After I get through the first trimester?”

  He frowned. “Do you have any reason to...be concerned?”

  She let out a sigh, knowing he deserved the truth, but still hating to dredge up the hurt.

  “I told you that I had trouble getting pregnant,” she began softly, taking a roll from the basket and buttering it. “But I didn’t tell you that I also had a miscarriage.”

  His fork clattered onto his plate, and the next thing she knew his arm was around her, his chair drawn close to hers so he could give her the comfort of...him.

  “I’m sorry, Sable.” He spoke into her hair, his lips pressing close to her temple.

  Touched at his kindness and understanding, she set aside her bread and allowed herself a moment to turn to him, her forehead tucking into the crook of his neck to absorb his strength. His empathy.

  Had Jack ever held her like this when she’d needed desperately to be comforted? Her eyes burned as she realized how much she’d needed that, and how Roman offered it so completely.

  “Thank you.” With an effort, she picked her head up and tried to resume their conversation.

  Except then they were just a breath apart, with his arm still a warm weight around her shoulders. His jaw was close enough for her to kiss. Taste. Bite.

  She closed her eyes to dial down the temptation.

  His hand shifted slightly to palm the middle of her back.

  “How far along were you?” He cupped her face in his other hand, tipping her chin up.

  She opened her eyes and met his dark scrutiny. In that moment, she was grateful for the physical attraction. The raw tug of it kept her from falling into unhappy memories.

  “Twelve weeks.” How long had it been since she’d shared the story? “I started bleeding the day before my first ultrasound appointment. I felt so relieved when I hit that twelve-week mark, too. But then...”

  She winced at the memory. She placed her hand over the spot, as if she could ward off the old hurt and protect the new life there now.

  “I can’t imagine how tough that must have been for you.” His fingers sifted through the ends of her hair, smoothing some of the strands that hung down her back. His other hand fell away from her cheek to cover hers where it rested on her lap.

  The tenderness of the touch made her breath catch.

  “I fell into a dark place afterward.” She hadn’t been able to pull herself out of the sadness, so she’d scheduled an appointment with a counselor. Which had been a blessing because she’d needed the support all the more when Jack checked out on her. “Then my husband served me with divorce papers two weeks later.”

  “Bastard.”

  She knew Jack had tired of putting so much effort into what he thought should be easy, but she hadn’t realized until he left her how expendable she’d been.

  “That about sums it up,” she agreed. “In the end, the miscarriage hurt more than the dissolution of my marriage. It took some time before I was able to focus on myself again. Getting this job with Marcel was the best possible affirmation that I’d made the right choice to return to my dreams.”

  “All the more reason not to turn your back on it now.” Letting go of her, Roman moved his plate closer so they could finish their meal side by side.

  She missed his touch, even if she understood his need to reestablish boundaries. Or at least, she thought that was what he was doing. Apparently he had more discipline about their attraction than she did if he could stay away for two months. She might have asked for space this most recent time, but she’d regretted it a week later.

  Even now, with the stress of an unexpected pregnancy and her total commitment to making good choices for her baby, she still craved Roman’s kiss. His hands on her. She blinked through the haze of longing to consider his words.

  “I understand why you think so. But I feel like I can’t make any long-term decisions until I pass that twelve-week mark.” She recrossed her legs under the table, grazing his calf in a way that she would have sworn was accidental.

  Yet she couldn’t deny she enjoyed the way his grip tightened on his fork and his body tensed.

  “What did the obstetrician say about the miscarriage?” he asked after a moment. “Did she think you were at greater risk this time?”

  “No. She reviewed my medical records before the appointment, and said everything was okay. She cleared me for...normal activity.” She felt heat crawl up her face at the memory of that conversation.

  Finished with her meal, she pushed the plate aside and took a drink of her water to drown some of the fire inside.

  “You asked her about sex specifically?” His voice dropped to a deeper tone, pinpointing exactly the topic that had made her skin warm.

  “I did.” She suppressed a shiver, then forced herself to meet his gaze.

  The answering heat she saw in his brown eyes sent her pulse into overdrive.

  “Good.” He gave a nod of satisfaction. “That’s...good.”

  For a moment, she was mesmerized by the memory of what this man could do to her with a simple kiss. But then he shoved away from the table to clear their plates.

  Right.

  Because they were here to work out logistics for sharing a child. Or at least talk through what the next few weeks would look like. She’d told herself that this would be a business dinner, but she was already contemplating being in his arms again.

  Or wrapping her legs around his hips.

  She got up and began to help him, carrying the food back to the ultramodern kitchen. Clearly she needed something to keep her hands busy so she didn’t wind up putting them all over Roman.

  “I’ve got this, Sable.” He took the dishes from her as she rounded the gray-and-white granite countertop. “‘Normal activity’ for you doesn’t include cleanup when I’m around.”

  She didn’t argue. Because how nice was that? Instead, she took a seat on the white leather barstool overlooking the kitchen as he worked. He wrapped the leftovers and stowed them in the refrigerator before pulling out a bottle of sparkling water and a container of raspberries. Then, finding two champagne flutes, he rinsed off a few berries to drop into the bottom of each glass before pouring the sparkling water over them.

  “We’re celebrating tonight,” he reminded her, sliding a glass along the granite toward her. “Hearing that heartbeat today blew me away. So I’m going to propose a toast to our healthy baby.”

  He stood beside the barstool, his arm draped over the back of the leather seat. He was close, but not touching her.

  “I’ll drink to that.” She lifted her glass, touched at his thoughtfulness. “Cheers.”

  He tipped his flute to hers, and their glasses tinkled softly.

  She watched the bubbles climbing the inside of the cut crystal glass, the column of his throat working as he took a drink.

  For a moment, he seemed
to sense her perusal because he set his glass aside and returned her steady look, causing her pulse to pick up speed.

  “Now that I understand why you want to wait to make plans for the baby,” he began, settling a hand on top of hers, “I’ll try not to pressure you about moving in with me, at least for the next two weeks. But I’m going to continue to look for a place in New York so that it’s ready if we need it. At the very least, I want to be here for the pregnancy and the remaining appointments.”

  She wanted to argue that it wasn’t necessary. That she couldn’t possibly move in with him since she wouldn’t allow herself to rely on him that way. She needed to remain in control of her life and her future, even if that meant returning home to raise her baby in Baton Rouge.

  Still, she appreciated his support. And she’d never forget the way he’d held her when she told him about the miscarriage. That moment...said a lot about him.

  “Thank you,” she finally managed, though she had to look away so as not to betray the confused tangle of feelings.

  Then Roman, perhaps wanting to change the subject out of empathy for her, reached for his cell phone on the counter.

  “I never had a chance to look at the photos from today,” he explained, tapping the screen to life before scrolling.

  All at once, the memory of the photo shoot returned. And in particular, the sexy vignettes she’d recreated from her night with Roman.

  “Oh. Um.” She wasn’t sure exactly what had been posted online, so maybe the images weren’t anything that Roman would link to her night with him. “I forgot about that.”

  She reached across the counter for the sparkling water bottle and refilled their glasses. Was it because she’d need to cool down after seeing the images? Or to hide her nervousness over whether Roman would recognize how she’d created her own visual ode to their time together?

  Probably both.

  She was already pouring the second glass when he made a strangled sound. Spilling a little water on the counter, she set the bottle aside to peer past where his strong arm was propped on the granite.

  There, on the screen, a dark-haired model glanced over her shoulder toward a man only visible from behind. He was shirtless. She presented her back to him, two long ribbons framing her spine, and the man was tugging one free.

  The shot was sizzling hot but didn’t come close to capturing what those same moments had felt like when she’d lived them out with Roman two months ago. Blindly, she reached for the champagne flute, wishing she could stand under a cold shower of that raspberry-flavored water.

  “Holy hell,” Roman growled, his jaw flexing. His shoulder tensed. And his body heat became like a furnace beside her.

  “Agreed.” She slid his refilled glass toward him while she downed the contents of hers. “Although, in my defense, your brother urged me to do something sexier this time. So I couldn’t help that this came to mind.”

  Straightening slowly from where he’d been leaning on the counter, Roman turned on her. He reached for her stool and spun it by the armrests so that she faced him fully. Then, arms bracketing her, he leaned closer.

  “I did my best to give you space.” His voice sounded gravelly.

  “Thank you.” She nodded, her heartbeat kicking hard inside her chest. “I know you have.”

  The leather upholstery creaked in his hard grip. He stepped between her knees, no quarter given because she was wearing a dress. The hem crept higher on her thighs. His gaze burned a hole through her.

  “It’s not easy to be impartial when I know you’re thinking about that night as much as I am.” His breath stirred her hair as he spoke close to her ear.

  “I’m sure it isn’t,” she murmured, unable to argue with him when he could see the proof of her thoughts right there in those photos.

  An ache of desire twisted low in her belly. She shifted in her seat, her knee brushing his leg and sending a bolt of awareness through her. A whimper escaped her throat before she could swallow it back.

  And then, after a scowl and a curse, Roman’s lips covered hers.

  Six

  All evening long, Roman had done his damnedest to hold back. He’d had a game plan for putting her at ease. For ensuring she understood he wanted more than just sex. He wanted to be a part of his child’s life.

  Yet one look at the photo reenacting their night together had him hard as steel for Sable. And for his part, he didn’t see why they shouldn’t indulge in something that made them both feel good. But he guessed she hadn’t reached that same conclusion based on the careful way she’d conducted herself with him since his return from LA.

  Well, until now.

  Because he wasn’t alone in enjoying this kiss.

  He stroked over the seam of her lips, demanding access. And she not only surrendered, she made hot demands of her own, her hands lifting to wrap around his neck, to pull him closer and take the kiss deeper.

  And while he was game for both those things, but not at the cost of her retreating from him even more tomorrow.

  Breaking the kiss with what felt like superhuman effort, he let his forehead fall to hers while they caught their breath.

  “Sable.” His gaze dropped to her lush lips still damp from his tongue and he had to close his eyes to keep from returning to that sweet spot for another taste.

  “Mmm?” The sound she made in answer only tempted him more.

  Her fingers were still locked behind his neck and, as he opened his eyes again, his attention shifted to the way her raised arms lifted her breasts toward him. The buttons holding together her white dress practically called to his hand to unfasten them. To free her body so he could worship her curves properly.

  “Two months ago when we were together, I told you I’d stay away so things could cool off between us.” How many times had he regretted that offer? But at the time, he wasn’t sure how else to counterbalance the fact that she was technically his employee. He hadn’t wanted their night together to be tainted by that.

  “I remember,” she said on a breathy exhale, her knees shifting around his legs, reminding him of how thoroughly he’d invaded her personal space. “You were as good as your word.”

  He couldn’t quite read her tone, and damn it, they needed to be sure they understood each other now.

  “We’re relocating this conversation to the couch where I can look you in the eye.” Shuffling back a step, he tucked one arm under her knees and slid the other under her arms, lifting her off the barstool to carry her into the living room.

  “Oh.” She let out a startled gasp, steadying herself with a hand on his shoulder. “Really? I’m pregnant, Roman, not bedridden. I can handle walking.”

  “It might not be wise to discuss beds right now. Not when I want you in mine this badly.” He couldn’t help looking down at where his hand wrapped around her thigh, and imagining how fast he could undress her so that he could touch even more of her.

  She felt good against him. Like she belonged there.

  But he shut down that thought fast. It was one thing to want her in his bed. It was something else altogether to consider a deeper connection. Because he wouldn’t dishonor the vow he’d made to his wife that way.

  Maybe that was why he settled her in the corner of the rolled-arm sofa and sat down beside her, instead of draping her over his lap the way he wanted. Still, he couldn’t totally take his hands off her, either. He turned toward her, resting his right hand on her knee just below the hem of her dress.

  “Okay.” He let his fingers dip between her knees. But when she sucked in a rapid breath, he pulled back. “Clearly we need to revisit the parameters of our original deal. Things didn’t cool off after two months. If anything, I want you more than ever.”

  “Same,” she murmured. Her hazel eyes shot to his after a moment, as if gauging his reaction. “That is, I agree about the heat level. Still...hot.”

 
; The sticky drawl of her words pulled at him as she wrapped a dark curl around her finger. With another woman, Roman might have thought the move was a deliberate flirtation. But Sable looked down, and the way she worked her lower lip with her teeth made her seem nervous. Uneasy.

  And that, he couldn’t abide.

  “Hey.” He cupped her jaw and turned her face toward him. “We don’t have to act on it just because it’s there. I’m going to be right there with you through this pregnancy whether you want to share my bed again or not. You know that, don’t you?”

  “I do.” She nodded as if she’d understood that all along, but it unsettled him that some of her tension seemed to slide off her shoulders with his reassurance. “It’s just the chemistry is so strong, I almost can’t think when you’re near me. What if a return to intimacy makes it all the more difficult to be objective about what happens next? And the stakes are higher than ever now, so I don’t want to make a bad judgment call.”

  “I’m man enough to admit that while I don’t like that answer, I respect the hell out of you for it.” He appreciated her honesty, too. Because the attraction had the power to flatten both of them, which would be easy to prove with one kiss.

  “You do?” Letting go of the lock of hair, she glanced up at him, her intelligent eyes tracking his.

  “Hell yes. You’re being protective of our future relationship as parents. I want you to trust your instincts.” Even though his body was already threatening a mutiny at the prospect of not being with her tonight. “The only answer is that we wait.”

  Hell, even saying the words out loud hurt.

  “We wait,” she repeated on a breathy sigh, sounding about as enthusiastic about the plan as he felt, which made him smile.

  And gave him an idea. Because he didn’t want to leave her unsatisfied. Not when she craved something from him that he could provide.