His pregnant mistress

by Carol Marinelli

  'Then let's walk.' He was picking up the containers now, tugging at the rug and, though Mia was grateful for the change in subject, grateful to hi m for realizing she just didn't want to talk about it any more, she wasn't quite ready to move on just yet.

  'Let's rest,' she said softly, eyes semi closed, sink­ing back further onto the soft blanket of the mulch, smiling at the dart of confusion in his eyes as he rather awkwardly replaced the rug and sat woodenly down.

  'Rest?'

  'Doze.' Mia smiled dreamily, great waves of sleep washing over her.

  'But it's four p.m.'

  'Don't you ever switch off?' she murmured. 'Just rest for the sake of it?'

  'Not in the middle of the day.'

  'Try,' she said simply, closing her eyes and breathing deeply, inhaling t he delicious scents, the gush of the waterfall the perfect background noise, feeling him rigid and awkward beside her as he tentatively lay down. But, slowly, as the sun dipped lower she heard his breathing wind down, felt the tension seep out from him and, smiling to herself, Mia decided she was probably the first woman in living history to find the low, tiny drones of a man snoring vaguely sexy.

  'I've been thinking,' Ethan started hours later as she pretended to stare at the television screen. For some­thing to do Mia had made some popcorn, which of course Ethan had promptly declared he couldn't stand and stalked off to have a shower. So now s he sat feeling bloated and ugly on the sofa, with Ethan sit­ting next to her, smelling divine, nothing on except a dark pair of boxers, long, muscular legs lounging on the coffee-table, crossed at the ankle, the dark hairs on his thigh, still damp from the shower, making tiny curls that she longed to reach out and touch, with the horrible prospect of yet another awkward goodnight looming its ugly head. 'Maybe you need a day off.'

  'That's the last thing I need.' Mia sighed, not even turning to face him, just pretending to concentrate on the movie, her hand idly straying to the bowl, then pulling away when she guiltily remembered she'd al­ready eaten the lot.

  'I've had more than enough days off recently.'

  'I mean a day out.' She could feel his eyes on her, knew Ethan had turn ed to face her, and she stared fixedly ahead, embarrassed at his scrutiny, trying to feign disinterest as Ethan spoke on. 'Maybe you need to be a tourist for a day! We could go out, pretend to be visitors.'

  'What could that possibly achieve? Ethan, I've lived here all my life. I know the ocean, the bay, the cafes. I know every nook and cranny and a day sight­seeing isn't going to change anything.'

  'It was just an idea.' Ethan shrugged. 'Sorry for interfering. You're the great artist, you just get on with it.' Still his eyes were on hers and Mia could feel her skin darken, every breath an effort as he stared on, acutely aw are of every movement she made, even swallowing a feat in itself.

  'Maybe you can lie on the sun lounger all day tomorrow as well and "develop" your ideas, you obviously know what you're doing. I'm sure it will all come good in the end.'

  The movie was over—at least, the credits were roll­ing, so Mia assumed the movie was over. She'd barely taken in a word of the whole film, so acutely aware of Ethan next to her on the sofa.

  'I think I'll have a nightcap. That supposed doze went on for two hours.

  'You must have needed it.'

  'I need this,' Ethan quipped, pulling himself far more gracefully off the sofa than Mia could even dream of doing in her condition, and poured himself an extremely generous brandy. 'I'll never sleep oth­erwise. Do you want anything?

  'What?' he asked when Mia sucked her breath in iritation. 'What have I said wrong now?'

  'Nothing,' Mia sighed, heaving herself up and padding to the kitchen. A glass of milk was the last thing she wanted, but it w as all she could have. A massive brandy would be perfect right now, may be help her sleep, because there wasn't a chance in hell of getting any shuteye tonight and it had nothing to do with the fact she'd been dozing all day and everything to do with Ethan. As she walked back into the living room her breath caught as it always did, the mere sight of the back of his head enough to literally stop her in her tracks.

  And she couldn't do it.

  Couldn't sit on that sofa a moment longer with Ethan beside her and not touch him.

  Couldn't listen to the late-night news without cre­ating a scandal of her own, so instead she stood. He was still staring at the screen, the weather girl cheer­fully predicting yet another scorching day tomorrow, so vibrant and chirpy it was almost nauseating; such an utter contrast to the loaded atmosphere in the room.

  'What did you have in mind?' She saw his head turn slightly at the sound of her voice, glad, eternally glad, that he couldn't see her face as she s poke. 'I mean, when you said we could go out?'

  'On a boat. Not mine,' he added, as if it should be a natural assumption that every man and his dog had a huge yacht moored somewhere, 'but a tourist one, like the glass-bottomed one that leaves the pier every morning at eight. It's supposed to be good. They take you over to Lizard Island. We could do a bit of snor­kelling...'

  His voice trailed off and she watched as he gave a tight shrug at her lack of response. 'I asked the doctor about it.' Still he didn't turn fully around to look at her, but he must have sensed her frown. 'I wasn't invading your precious privacy; I thought I'd better run it by him before I suggested anything to you.'

  'And what did Garth say?'

  'That there shouldn't be a problem—in fact he thought it would do you the world of good. Your blood pressure's down, you're putting on weight; he said that there's no reason why you shouldn't have a day out. The reef's only a forty-five-minute boat ride from here, though Garth did say it might be better to go on an organized tour rather than just the two of us out there alone.

  'It was just an idea.'

  Silence hung in the air, and Mia felt as if she were balancing on a cliff edge, the relative safety of Ethan's home the haven behind her, Ethan's tempting offer the treacherous drop below.

  And it would be a treacherous step, Mia knew that deep down. As casual as his invitation sounded, it was fraught with danger. She had sensed a shift in his mood since the rainforest. The sexual tension that had simmer ed along these past few weeks seemed to have escalated out of control in t he last few hours, a height­ened awareness of each other's presence, the pressure cooker of emotions they had somehow kept in check since her first morning in Ethan's home starting to escape now with an ominous hiss. Mia knew, knew as surely as she was standing here now, that if she took this dangerous step the shaky ground they were standing on would crumble beneath them, hurtle them into the unknown, and neither would be left standing.

  So why then was she taking a deep breath? Mia wondered. Why was she nodding into the darkness, then opening her mouth to speak? 'It sounds wonderful.'

  Her voice was high and slightly breathless and he didn't turn around; her response, quite simply, mer­ited more, so instead he stood, crossing the room and standing in front of her. 'When?'

  She could smell him again, feel his closeness in­vading her personal space, crossing a million unspo­ken lines with one piercing stare. It would have been so easy to tumble on e step further, to fall into the arms she knew would catch her, knew would save her, but without a shadow of doubt Mia knew in the cold, refreshing sensibility of morning light those same arms would push her away again, that the pas­sion, the tension that simmered through the day and became unbearable at night would disperse once again.

  But right now the tension in the air was so thick it clogged her throat, filled her lungs, every breath dragging that male scent deeper, making it im­possible to think straight, impossible to fathom a rea­son why she shouldn't just take that final step. 'When?' he asked again.

  'Whenever.' Her voice was curiously high, she was flinching yet yielding as one hand came up to her face, the bulb of his thumb making contact with the soft flesh of her upper lip.

  'You've got a milk moustache.'

  Maybe she had one, maybe he was lying, but the contact was
unbearable, a rippling effect churning within. Even when his hand moved away, and put on hold running deeper now, building ominously as he stood a mere breath away.

  'I've booked us on for tomorrow.'

  She should have argued, should have chided his presumption, his arrogance that he just assumed she would accept...

  But it was easier to flee.

  To slip between the icy white cotton, to rest her flaming cheeks against the pillow, to close her eyes and push those thoughts away, to ignore her nipples prickling like thistles against the sheet and the re­lentless throbbing pulse between her thighs, to ignore the daunting implications of his mere touch and just close her eyes and pray for the fresh perspective of morning.

  'Well?'

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  'Well?'

  Staring through the glass-bottomed boat, the coral reef swirling beneath her, fish gliding at her feet as if she were sitting on some massive flat-screen TV, Mia felt her irritation rise and she actually welcomed it.

  Welcomed the fact that love wasn't blind.

  That Ethan wasn't a man she could love blindly, that the perfect mould she thought he had s lipped from did in fact have a few air bubbles and impa­tience was the one she would love to pop first.

  'Well what, Ethan?' He was parked on a tiny wooden bench beside her, thighs involuntary touching courtesy of fifty eager tourists all clamouring for a view. 'You really think it's that easy, don't you? That forty-five minutes of bumping along in a boat and suddenly I'd be inspired.'

  He gave a tight shrug, clearly bored already, and Mia sighed, resisting the urge to glance at her watch that wouldn't even be nudging to nine a.m., willing the next eight hours to pass, to get her back to the relative safety of what was slowly becoming home. It had been a stupid idea to come. Oh, not on a professional level— Ethan had been right, damn him. Already, listening to the excited chatter of the tourists, feeling wind whipping around her hair, watching the sun glistening off the ocean, the trail of surf the boat created as it zipped through the glass water, all were serving their purpose, stirring the creative beast within.

  The grey tinges that had darkened her mental palette these past weeks were already taking on brighter tones, the sapphire of the sky, the emerald of the water, the salty taste on her lips and the sting on her cheeks as the sun kissed them, as if she were seeing it all for the first time, feeling it for the first time.

  But it wasn't only the creative beast that was stirring. Her feeling hadn't abated since last night one iota; the occasional brush of his thigh as the boat lurched sideways, the feel of the hair on his legs dusting across her bare skin like a static charge ricochet­ing through her, her whole body on high alert, awoken and aware...

  'We stop soon.' Ethan yawned, not even bothering to smother it with his hand, seemingly obliv­ious to the volatile, writhing mass of hormones sitting next to him. 'Maybe once we've had a swim...'

  'Excuse me?' Her words were drowned out by the engine, but something in her furious motion caught Ethan's attention. "There is no way I'm swimming.' She shook her head. 'Ethan, I'm nearly eight months pregnant, for goodness' sake. I'm hardly dressed for swimming...'

  'Don't worry about that.' Not remotely perturbed by her outburst, he rummaged in the most expensive-looking backpack Mia had ever seen and pulled out two vaguely familiar pieces of hot red Lycra. 'I packed this for you.'

  'This?' Cheeks flaming, Mia grabbed the red rags like an angry bull. 'This is what I wore a year ago when I was thin and gorgeous and had a flat stomach, and it most certainly wasn't on the list I gave you of things to collect.'

  'Suit yourself.' The engine was stilling, the excited chatter of the tourists growing louder as Ethan pulled off his T-shirt and in one lithe movement kicked off his runners and dropped his shorts. 'But I for one in tend to work up an appetite for the smorgasbord with my complimentary glass of wine.'

  'I'm pregnant, Ethan!' Mia shouted as he fiddled with his snorkel mask.

  'An extra glass of wine for me, then.' And, as if he'd been in training for the Olympics, he back flipped over the edge of the boat, leaving her in the sweltering heat, coming up for air with a s mile that was purely lethal.

  'Don't tell me,' she moaned. 'The water's cool?'

  'Actually, no, it's like a bath.'

  His eyes were like dark glass, his smile more devastating than she had ever seen it.

  'You realize I run the risk of being harpooned if I swim in this!' She held up the offending almost a garment.

  'Of course you won't be: we're wildlife friendly here in Queensland.' Ethan grinned. 'Or at least according to the multitude of stickers on your awful bomb of a car! Are you coming in?'

  She didn't answer, just swallowed back pride as temptation took over and darted into the tiniest room Mia had ever seen, undoubtedly collecting a few splinters in her bottom from the wooden walls as she pulled on the hateful bikini. Her only saving grace was the fact she'd shaved her legs that morning, but it didn't stop Mia from blushing furiously and feeling as fat and sexless as a woman could as she climbed down the side ladder of the boat.

  'You have a choice.' Holding what used to be her waist, Ethan stared at her. 'We can either be back on the boat in an hour or we can give the crowds the flick and head over to the island. There's a small resort there, we can get something to eat—'

  'Dressed like this?'

  'I'm sure they can rustle up a picnic for us if you prefer.' He gave a shrug, but it was anything but non­chalant. 'It was so nice yesterday I figured it might be worth repeating.' His hands were still o n her waist, absolutely steady, yet causing more internal motion than her furiously pummelling legs, his eyes in the bright sunlight not black now, but a deep indigo blue.

  Mia was torn between fear and lust, sorely tempted to flee back to the lonely safety of boat, but fatefully tempted t o stay, to spend some time with a man who had declared himself out of bounds, to drink just a little from the forbidden cup he seemed to be offering, to tease herself just a little while longer with what she could never have. 'A picnic sounds nice.' Her tongue bobbed out, moistened her full lips, his h ands still a solid presence around her, her voice a mere croak as she carried on talking. 'You'll have to go back, let the captain know...'

  'I already did.'

  He was diving down barely leaving a ripple on the surface, and after only a moment's hes­itation she followed, dragging a deep breath into her lungs and propelling herself down, eyes wide open and gazing in wonder as instantly the reef came into view.

  Still, after all the times Mia had seen it, it never ceased to amaze her that beneath the tranquil azure water lay a world of its own, gently swaying, colours more magnificent, brighter, vibrant somehow, fishes darting, pursed lips that looked rouged, gaping open and closed, some so bold, so fearless she could touch them, feel the smooth flesh glide through her hands, tiny yellow fish dancing, darting around her like fairy dust.

  He watched, his greater lung capacity allowing him to stay that dangerous moment longer, a flowing him to watch her rise to the surface from beneath, more beautiful than any ocean creature, blonde curls straightened by the force of the water now, a golden stream that trailed behind her, breasts barely covered by the tiny red triangles, the gorgeous swell of her stomach.

  Her bronzed legs seemed to go on for ever, parting as she did a vertical breast-stroke, allowing a teasing glimpse of the hollows of her upper thighs, and Ethan felt his groin kindle with lust, imagining the sweet, secret place within, a place he'd visited, a place he longed, needed, wanted, to return to.

  He gulped air into his lungs as he hit the surface. His breathlessness had nothing to do with swimming and everything to do with the smiling face waiting for him, eyes as green as the water, her hair trailing along the surface. She looked like some mystical mermaid, some divine creature, and he ached, literally ached, to wrap his legs around her, to pull away the tiny red bikini bottom and claim her, his erection so fierce, his wanting so deep, it physically hurt to hold back.

/>   The feel of her hand on his shoulder was blistering in its effect, the top of her breasts rising and falling as she caught her own breath, the creamy flesh, usually covered by a T-shirt, already pinking up from the harsh Australian sun, tiny freckles appearing on her golden arms.

  'Ready to go again?'

  He wasn't.

  All Ethan wanted to do was stay, to relish this mo­ment for a little while longer, to hold this slice of time and somehow save it for later, remember the beauty on the surface, and ignore the irrefutable truth that lay beneath the innocence of her eyes, the vivid green with golden flecks, the arch of her eyebrows, her spiky eyelashes. The lush curve of her mouth was so moist, so tempting he wanted to drink from it. The sun glistened on her skin, and her almost childlike smile was such a contrast to the voluptuous woman beneath the glass-like water, her body so overtly feminine, ripe with another man's child, his brother's child—and— he could live with that.