by Karen Booth
It all sounded unreal to Miranda, but she had faith in Andrew. Her only disappointment was how much she hated the acrimony, especially on a holiday that she’d so looked forward to. Perhaps it was best if this all came out now so it could finally be gone and she could stop thinking about it. If that could be her reward, she felt a need to play a bigger role in putting it all to an end.
“I believe Andrew. One hundred percent. There’s no doubt in my mind.” Miranda sat a little straighter, as if she could convey her conviction with her body language.
Andrew turned to her, his eyes full of surprise, when really she’d expected him to be feeling hurt. Tara and Grant had said some terrible things. “Thank you. I appreciate your confidence in me.”
“Miranda, can you and I talk in the other room?” Tara asked, getting up from her chair.
Miranda wasn’t about to split this up until it was settled. “Whatever you have to say to me, you can say in front of Andrew. I don’t see any reason to go in the other room.”
Tara shot her a look that suggested Miranda was crazy. “I really think it would be good if we had some privacy.”
Miranda felt her anger growing by the minute. “No. Tell me now. Whatever horrible thing you have to say, just come out with it.”
“Guys, can we cool down for a minute here?” Andrew asked. “Miranda has been looking forward to today for a very long time. She worked her butt off and I don’t think it’s fair that we’re robbing her of this moment.”
Good God, he was such a sweet and thoughtful man. If Tara and Grant couldn’t see that, they weren’t paying attention. “Thank you, Andrew. I appreciate that.”
“Neither of us is trying to ruin Thanksgiving,” Grant said. “But, Miranda, I would be remiss in my role as Johnathon’s best friend if I didn’t say that I think Andrew is taking advantage of you.” He turned to Andrew. “I don’t know what your endgame is here, but none of this adds up. I don’t know Victor, and I knew all of Johnathon’s business deals. I knew everyone he dealt with. And more than anything, I have a deep familiarity with everything that went bad at Sterling Enterprises. That’s why I don’t believe there’s a Victor. I think you’re using it as a front to hide the things you did, or at the very least, as an excuse to get out of apologizing for trying to kneecap your brother’s business.”
“You’re wrong,” Andrew said. “I’ve already apologized. Victor is very real and it’s only a matter of time until he does something to hurt Sterling. That’s why I’m here. To stop that from happening. So I don’t know what else to tell you, but you’re wrong.”
“That’s not good enough,” Tara said. “I want to know what’s really going on here. Are you cozying up to Miranda because you’re hoping you can get your hooks into Sterling Enterprises that way?”
Andrew pushed back from the table and tossed his napkin onto his plate. “That’s enough. I’ll excuse myself now.” He turned to Miranda, nearly shaking with rage. “I’ll get to work on the kitchen. I don’t want the rest of your evening to be ruined by having to listen to this.” He walked out of the room with determined strides.
Miranda’s heart was currently residing in her stomach. How had everything gone so wrong? “What the hell, you two? Did you seriously just blow up my Thanksgiving dinner?”
Tara reached for Miranda’s hand, but Miranda wasn’t about to play at that game and she yanked it back into her lap. “Miranda. I’m sorry, but I just don’t understand what he’s getting out of this whole equation. Living in your house, chasing around some guy who we’re pretty sure doesn’t exist. I don’t think the company is in trouble anymore. I believe that he put a stop to his plan, and I suppose he deserves credit for that, but otherwise, I think he’s lying to you.”
Miranda did her best to compose herself, but she could feel her blood about to boil. Why couldn’t Tara and Grant take off their blinders about Andrew and accept that she was enjoying having him in her life? “Look. Here’s the deal. I believe him. I believe him with every bone in my body. And you have to understand that he’s not only my connection to Johnathon, he’s the baby’s connection, as well. If you can’t imagine why that might be important to me right now, then I don’t know what to say.” She nearly gasped for breath when she finished. It had come out as a long string of words, but at least it had come from the heart.
Tara’s head dropped to one side. “Miranda. Grant and I want the best for you. We’re trying to protect you. All we know is that if Johnathon knew what was going on right now, he’d go through the roof. That’s why we had to say something. We couldn’t let it go.”
“You can guess all you want about how Johnathon would’ve reacted to this, but the reality is that he isn’t here right now. The rest of us are. And if we can’t find a way to come together, this baby isn’t going to have a family.”
“Are you including Andrew in that?” Grant asked.
“Yes. I am.”
For a moment, no one said a peep, and Miranda was thankful for the silence, but what she really wanted was for everyone to go home so she and Andrew could be alone and she could tell him how deeply sorry she was that this had happened. She was disappointed that her Thanksgiving had been ruined, but much more than that, she hated that he had been so hurt in the process.
“I’m going to help Andrew in the kitchen.” Miranda rose from the table and collected a few plates.
“Here. Let me help,” Tara said, getting up from her chair.
“No. Please. Don’t,” Miranda said. “I can do it. If you want to spend time with Clay and Astrid, feel free. But otherwise, it’s probably best if you go home.”
Grant’s face fell. “I don’t want to leave knowing that you’re so upset.”
Miranda shrugged. “I’ll get over it. I still love you both. But it’s best for me right now if you just go.” With that, she made her exit from the dining room. When she arrived in the kitchen, she spotted Andrew and Clay talking. They were smiling. Laughing even. This was what she’d hoped for today. Family and togetherness. She’d take this tiny moment and tuck it away in her head for later. The holiday wasn’t a total loss.
“Everything okay in there?” Clay asked.
“Tara and Grant are leaving. They were being a pain in my butt.” Miranda placed the stack of plates on the counter, then began filling the sink with hot water.
Clay came up to her. “I’m sorry. Honestly, I think the stress of planning their wedding is getting to them. I think they’ve been fighting about it. Grant has a huge family and they’re all coming. I think Tara thought they wouldn’t show up and she could have something supersmall.”
Tara and Grant were getting married right before Christmas. If that was the problem, at least it would eventually go away. It still didn’t make Miranda feel any better. “Maybe.”
Astrid and Delia came in through the French doors just off the kitchen. “Are we ready?” Astrid asked. “I’m exhausted from running around the backyard.”
Clay grinned wide, his expression so full of love it was hard for Miranda to wrap her head around it. Her brother had found happiness. Not everything was terrible.
“Speaking of weddings,” Miranda said. “Have you two thought about setting a date?”
Clay and Astrid looked at each other. “We haven’t. We’re too busy having fun,” Astrid said. “We’ll worry about that later.”
How Miranda loved that attitude. Taking the good in the moment and not stressing about the rest.
“Thanks for hosting,” Clay said, offering Miranda a hug.
“Thank you so much for coming.” She stepped out of her brother’s embrace and wrapped her arms around Delia and Astrid, who were standing together. She watched as Andrew bid his farewell. There was already a genuine warmth between Clay and Andrew. That had to count for something. Andrew wasn’t a bad guy. He simply wasn’t.
The happy little family unit of Clay, Astrid and Delia made their depar
ture, leaving Miranda and Andrew all alone with a messy kitchen.
“I’m officially regretting my choice to not bring in any help.” Miranda swished dish soap in the sink full of hot water.
“I’m sorry,” Andrew said, stepping closer to her and trying to make eye contact.
“Don’t be. It was your suggestion. I was the dummy who didn’t listen.”
He shook his head and laughed softly. “That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about the scene with Grant and Tara. That wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t been here.”
Miranda held up her finger. “No. Don’t say that. It’s their problem, not yours.”
He pursed his lips and leaned against the counter. “I heard what you said after I left. I went back to grab some dishes and I overheard. I want you to know that I appreciate everything you said on my behalf. You shouldn’t have to stick up for me.”
“I had to say something. They were in the wrong. I couldn’t let it go.” Even with the heavy subject of their conversation, Miranda did feel a weight lifting. It was just her and Andrew now. She didn’t need to worry about everyone else and their agendas.
“It meant a lot to me. Truly. Everything today did.” Andrew reached for Miranda’s hand. “The last two weeks have been some of the best of my whole life. I’m sure that sounds stupid, but it’s the truth.”
Her heart fluttered when he squeezed her fingers, making her feel equal parts excited and foolish. “It’s not stupid. I feel the same way. I love having you here.” She scanned his face for some sign of what he meant by holding on to her hand so tightly, but then he licked his lower lip and her knees nearly buckled. His mouth was way too gorgeous. His shoulders were too broad and his hair too touchable. She wanted nothing more than to thread her fingers through it, curl her fingers into his scalp and wrap her leg around his hip.
Before she knew what was happening, Andrew locked his gaze on her. There was an actual jolt to her system—a connection made. They drifted closer, the space between them slowly disappearing and time becoming elastic. Miranda struggled to keep up. Logic told her to look away, but she couldn’t. It felt like the key to tomorrow was in his eyes and she had to find it.
His hand went to her jaw, his fingertips giving the lightest imaginable touch against her neck. “I’m afraid I’m going to make a mistake, Miranda.”
Her heart was beating so fast it was either going to burst or give out. “What do you mean?” She was desperate for the answer, but it was a terrifying prospect. If he pulled away from her, it would take a long time to recover. She’d spent too much time over the last few months trying to get past unwelcome truths. Today, she wanted her reality to have at least a sliver of good news.
“I want to kiss you. But I worry that it’s wrong.” His warm palm rested on her jaw, his heat pouring into her.
Her mind scrambled for an elegant answer, but she didn’t have a clever or witty reply. She was too relieved that they’d both been thinking the exact same thing. She didn’t know how long he’d felt this way, but time didn’t matter right now. The only thing she cared about was hurrying down this path he’d just set them on. “Maybe you should just try it and see how right it feels.”
Six
The air in the kitchen was charged with anticipation.
“If I kiss you, Miranda, there’s no going back.” Andrew dropped his chin, working his way into Miranda’s psyche with an intense flash of his eyes. His one free hand went to the other side of her face.
Miranda was all too aware of her breaths, her galloping heartbeat, the rotating sway of her body in his presence. This wasn’t that different from the moment up in the baby’s nursery, when she’d so desperately wanted him to touch her. Everywhere. “I don’t see the point in going back, Andrew. I’m only interested in moving forward.” Why wasn’t he kissing her? Was he waiting for her to do it? She wished she’d come up with a sexier reply, but words seemed so useless now. She was too busy managing urges, like the one that said she’d finally be happy if he wasn’t wearing that shirt. Or those pants.
“I need to be sure.” He leaned even closer and kissed her cheek. “Absolutely positive that this is what you want.”
If he didn’t kiss her for real, she was about to explode. She popped up onto her toes, gripping his shoulders to steady herself. “I’m positive.”
She closed her eyes and went for it—her lips met his in a kiss that made it feel like she was floating. There was only the slightest hesitation before his tongue slipped along her lower lip. Every atom in her body celebrated in a chorus of delight and relief. She shifted her forearms up onto his shoulders, dug her fingers into the back of his thick hair. His lips—soft and warm and wet—became more eager, seeking her jaw and neck. His arms wound tightly around her, pulling her against him, nearly lifting her off her toes.
His hand snaked under the back of her sweater, confirming what she’d been so unsure of before—he wanted her. He wanted clothes to come off as badly as she did. His fingers fumbled with her bra clasp, which was more than a little adorable. Andrew was always so sure of himself. It made him so human. And it made her feel ever so slightly closer to him.
“Here. Let me,” she muttered. Now flat-footed, she lifted her sweater over her head, then clutched it to her chest. She could admit to being unsure of what he would say when he saw her pregnant form.
“Are you hiding from me?” he asked.
“No. I mean, yes. Maybe a little. Have you ever had to have sex with a pregnant woman?”
“Had to? I want to.” He plucked the sweater from her hands and placed it on the kitchen counter. Leaning closer, he hooked his finger under one of the straps of her white silk bra, then popped it off her shoulder. “Everything about your body is luscious and beautiful. I can’t wait to see every inch.”
His words didn’t merely prompt a wild wave of goose bumps—they were about to become a permanent memory, etched in her mind. She bit down on her lip. If this was going to happen, it would be good. She reached behind her and unhooked her bra, but left it for him to take it off.
“Keep going.” He kissed the curve of her neck, the most sensitive spot, the one that made her arch her back and nearly call out from the pleasure.
She took his direction and slipped the garment forward from her shoulders. He helped by pulling it down the length of her arms. His vision sank lower and her heart picked up in anticipation. Gripping her rib cage with both hands, his thumbs caressed the tender underside of her breasts as he lowered his head and gave one nipple a gentle lick.
The gasp that rose from the depths of her throat sounded like weeks of frustration being cut loose. She dropped her chin to her chest when he did it again. She loved watching him admire her this way, knowing that she turned him on. “I want you, Andrew. Now.”
“Upstairs,” he answered.
Before she could take a single step, she was off her feet and in his arms, feeling like she weighed nothing at all. Considering her pregnant state, it was an amazing feeling. He marched down the hall and up the stairs as she clung to his neck, desperate to kiss him again.
“Your bedroom or mine?” he asked. The weight of the question was impossible to ignore. Her bedroom was where she’d slept with Johnathon.
It was too much to think about right now, so she gave the simplest answer. “Yours. It’s closer.”
He grinned. “I like the way you think.”
They reached their destination, his beautifully appointed room. He set her down gently on the king-size bed, smiling again. He stood back and began unbuttoning his shirt. The soft evening light showed off the incredible contours and definition of his chest and abs. He had a lovely patch of dark hair in the center and a most enticing narrow trail extending from his belly button that disappeared behind the waistband of his pants. His shoulders were even better than she could’ve imagined. Not even a well-tailored suit coat did them justic
e. They were square and broad. They begged for her touch.
He stepped closer to the bed, and she sat up, flattening her hands against his firm chest, his skin warming her palms and fingers. With her arms raised, he cupped her breasts, making her drop back her head for a moment. It felt so good that it made her head swim. She forced herself to straighten, only because she was desperate to have his mouth on hers again. As if she’d spoken her desire, he leaned down and gave her a long, deep kiss. The sort of kiss that made a woman lose her mind.
She would’ve been lying if she’d said she wasn’t eager to see the rest of him. She unzipped his pants and pushed them to the floor, then dipped her fingers beneath the waistband of his black boxer briefs, tugging them down his trim hips. He kissed her again, and she wrapped her fingers around his erection, loving the deep moan that went straight from his mouth to hers.
He gently pushed on her shoulder, urging her to lie back, then he kissed the bare mound of her stomach. He was so tender and sweet, it took her breath away. She watched as he unbuttoned her trousers and wiggled them down the length of her legs. His eyes roved all over her body, full of admiration that made her heart swell. Everything between her legs was begging for his touch. Her whole body froze with the anticipation.
He tugged down her panties, casting his dark eyes up toward hers as his fingers met her center. She couldn’t let go of her grip on his head as he artfully rocked his hand back and forth. It felt impossibly good to be at his mercy. To be wanted and desired the way she had been thinking of him so often over the last few weeks. Their gazes connected, and it was as if she saw more of him, parts that he expended so much energy to hide. The parts of him that were hurt.
The pressure was building, the peak upon her, but she wanted more. She wanted a deeper connection. She needed him. Inside her. “Please make love to me, Andrew,” she said. She disbelieved the words as soon as they left her lips. This was such a crazy, inexplicable situation they were in, and yet it was the only thing that seemed right.
