“Let me see,” he cajoled.
No way was she giving him the means of additional humiliation. “No.”
Straightening to his feet, he smiled, though it didn’t brighten his eyes. “Maybe another time. Would you like to help with dinner?”
“I’ll make it.”
“We’ll try together. Like an adventure.”
“Beckett. We need to figure this out.”
“Let’s talk while we throw together a meal. I’m starved.”
Agreeing on poached salmon and steamed vegetables, Grace dealt with the asparagus while he prepared the salmon.
“I don’t feel right about taking your money,” she said.
He looked up from the pan, adjusting the heat. “It’s your money too.”
“It’s not.” She poked at the greens. “I’m not going to be one of those women who sponge.”
“You didn’t sponge. You aren’t. It’s not your fault I wouldn’t let you do more than you did. I never even considered what you might want to do. I thought maybe you’d fill your days the way my mom did. You know, lunches and events and stuff.”
He kept owning his past behavior but it was like ripping the bandage off of a slowly healing wound. His regret and apologies might have made an impact if she cared. Which she didn’t.
“I don’t know what to do.” It was stupid to confide even that much because a shark always smelled blood in the water. Although Beckett had been more like a dolphin of late, funny, charming, and trying to lure her into his circle.
Setting the lid on the pan, he lowered the heat. “Stay here. Live here. I’m trying, Grace.”
“You won’t even let me sleep by myself.”
“I didn’t say I was going to roll over to all your demands. Especially the ones that don’t make any sense. You needed me in the night the … other time.”
Her grip tightened on the handle of the steamer. The memory came flooding back. Woken by cramping like she’d never experienced, the ominous wet warmth on her thighs, calling out for Beckett—who’d been there. Not out on the town, but home. He’d instantly responded, keeping her calm with his stoicism, yet being so kind, gentle. And then took to staying away from home even longer hours after she miscarried and was back on her feet. Her conscience prodded at her—was that his way of dealing with grief?
She couldn’t think about that. “I’ll drain these. Is the fish done?”
“Pretty much. Grace? I filled my days with work and promotion, not just to avoid you because I was pissed off. I was a mess and didn’t know what to do. And I felt useless after we lost the baby. And … I couldn’t help but hurt so I tried not to think about it.”
“So you ignored it.” And me.
“Ignoring and avoiding are different. Guys aren’t great at talking about feelings and we… Well, you and I weren’t exactly on good terms. My fault. Like I said, the whole thing took on a life of its own.”
Was he looking for absolution? He was laying out the facts, making no excuses, but she couldn’t find it within herself to forgive him. Maybe he hadn’t broken her heart—she refused to think he had—but he’d crushed her pride, humiliated her, and she’d given him a chunk of her life, all based on stupid infatuation. He’d responded like a trapped animal while she’d been imprisoned by the chains of what she thought was love.
She breathed in deeply and released it slowly. “It’s not a good idea. Except I can’t see any way out of it. I guess I really know what it’s like to feel trapped.”
He yanked the salmon off the heat and moved to her. She steeled herself against the proximity.
“You can’t find it in yourself to cut me some slack?”
“As in forgive you?”
His face tightening and hurt flashing in his eyes, he turned away and crossed to the cupboard, pulling out plates. “Where are the fish forks?”
“Second drawer on your left.” She didn’t like the fact that she’d hurt him, at least she thought she had. Like when she told him she felt nothing in her heart for him.
He set the breakfast bar, and she was relieved not to have to eat in the cavernous dining room with an acre of table between them. She drained the asparagus and set it in a serving dish with some butter.
Beckett plated the fish before saying, “Maybe you’ll hate me less in time.”
Her appetite fled, but she picked at the salmon. “I don’t hate you.”
“This is young asparagus. Tender.”
“Beckett, I don’t hate you. But I don’t love you and I can’t let go of … everything when things have changed so recently.” And how can I trust it will last?
“I haven’t changed all that much. I still want you.”
Sex. Great. She shoved her reaction away. “We keep avoiding the crux of the matter.”
“What’s that?”
“We continue to live together, if without it feeling like an armed camp, and bring a baby into our lives, to parent together.”
“That’s what I hope for,” he interrupted.
“And if one of us—or both—meets someone else? I want a real marriage, Beckett. I want to find someone who will love me and who I’ll love back. I don’t want what my parents had, even if we can get along. Like … friends.”
For the first time in days, she couldn’t read him. He closed himself off and her spirits sank. This was the cold, unreachable Beckett. She shook her head and stood to take her plate to the sink.
She was scraping the contents into the garbage when he replied, “We’ll take it one day at a time, then. I take it you won’t be out looking for that potential husband before you have our baby?”
Lord, she must have sounded deranged. No wonder he shut down. “Of course not. But I was looking to the future. I wanted to be honest with you.”
“And I appreciate that.” He put his plate on top of hers and offered his hand. “Shake on it?”
“What am I shaking on?”
“One day at a time. You’ll live here, have the baby, and let me help.”
“And you’ll respect my stance on our … relationship?”
“I will, although I still consider you my wife.”
She wasn’t certain of Beckett’s actual perception of a wife, but it hardly figured in the equation, so she found herself taking his hand. Hers disappeared into his hold and he squeezed it gently. It occurred that he deserved to meet the love of his life as well, and she told herself she’d be happy for him. The miserable churn in her belly had everything to do with the fact that eating was still a challenge.
Chapter Eight
“She merely tolerates me.”
Kalim shrugged a shoulder. “Better than hatred, I’d say.”
“Maybe not. At least there’s passion in hatred. She’s not even angry.”
Leaning back in his chair, his friend studied him. “Beck, I have no idea what you think I can say. I’m single, remember? Hardly an expert on relationships.”
“You clarified things for me.” Was that nearly two months ago? It felt like a lifetime since he’d faced up to his sins.
“Timing. Honesty. I’d like to take credit, but you were looking for that clarification.”
“I felt something from her that night,” he confided. “Like I’d pushed things to the limit and pushed her away for good. Or she pushed me away. Maybe my psyche or something warned me.”
“If she wasn’t pregnant, do you figure she’d be gone?”
It was his turn to shrug. “Her father would probably have tried to stop her, withhold her trust fund in that event too. The old man has freed up some of it—for incidentals. He saved face by saying she was still living with me, so obviously wasn’t serious about a divorce. She won’t even acknowledge him unless there is virtually no choice. Calls him Mr. Langdon. Talks about changing her name to her mother’s birth name.”
“She hates him.”
“She does.” He forked a hand through his hair. “I should count my blessings because at least she’s not cold with me.”
&
nbsp; “So, being tolerated isn’t the worst thing after all,” his friend teased.
“Maybe not. But aside from her friend, the one she plans to live with when her lease runs out”—his throat tightened thinking about it—“she has no one else. She maintains no father is better than the one she has.”
“She has you, Beck.”
A harsh huff of laughter scraped his throat. “I doubt she believes that. We live together and the only time I see her is at meals and bedtime.”
“No different than before.” Kamil’s observation grated and Beckett felt like punching him.
The spurt of adrenaline made him think. “A bit different. Maybe. We’re more relaxed and we talk. Well, I talk. About work, mostly. She listens and seems genuinely interested. Makes intriguing suggestions and asks a lot of questions. I hired a housekeeper and she didn’t fight me on it, so that’s a bonus.”
“What does she do with herself? Women seem to fill their hours and I confess I have no idea what they do, even considering those who are employed. Not that I know many who work.”
“I might be getting closer to finding out.” He didn’t say the number of times he had slipped into that spare room and stared at the files placed neatly on the little desk. He wanted Grace to share with him openly, whatever it was she increasingly occupied her time with. “I overheard her arranging for some samples to be brought by.”
“Intriguing.”
“Indeed.” He wondered how he might encourage her to share sooner than later. Grace clearly didn’t value his opinion, although maybe it was more that he’d been so dismissive in the past. Not any longer.
“You’re sleeping together?”
“We are. Sleeping. Period.” And it was killing him. He’d become intimately familiar with his right hand in the shower, twice a day. Like a damn teenager. Watching Grace’s slender body begin to change, her breasts a little bigger and the slight swell of her belly…
“Beck?”
“What?”
“You zoned out.”
“It’s killing me.”
Kamil laughed, a smug, complacent sound that spoke of getting laid often—and well. He again wanted to punch him. “So, seduce her.”
“She’d hate me.”
“Get over yourself. If she shuts you down, so be it. But every woman needs to know she’s desirable, especially one whose body is changing. I have sisters, remember.”
He’d been reduced to relying on Kamil the bachelor for marital advice yet again. A rueful smile made his mouth hurt, even as he acknowledged how much sense his friend made. And was it such a difficult task for a manwhore? Grace’s assessment of him rankled a little. The truth hurts.
“Maybe I should call it Operation Seduction. “ This time his laughter felt easier.
“Let’s wrap this up so you can get back to your not-so-willing bride.” Kamil shuffled the files together.
“Want to crash a dinner?”
A thick brow arching, his friend asked, “Whose?”
“Grace is meeting her friend, Charity. We can stop by. You can shield me from mean women comments.”
“I can’t think of anything I’d like more.”
Now, there was friendship. Beck well knew his buddy had lots of opportunities for a hookup locally, not to mention the clubs. “We should get moving then.”
****
To say dinner was an interesting experience was downplaying the entire event. Two sets of eyes, one dark and one silver, had stared their way as they sauntered up to the table. Well, Kamil sauntered. Beck was already rethinking his plan to intrude on Grace’s privacy.
He noted surprise and shock on his wife’s face, the only one he really cared to assess, but her friend’s gaze wasn’t warm and welcoming either. Speculative might have coined it.
But, with her good manners, Grace had welcomed Kamil and his friend was his usual charming self, so much so both women relaxed and softened. Charity, someone he hadn’t seen since the wedding, positively glowed before Kamil’s attention and Beck made a mental note to warn his friend off. The situation was complicated enough without his friend orchestrating a one-night stand.
“What is it that you do, Charity?”
“I’m a cardiovascular interventional technologist.”
Kamil drew her out, effortlessly, learning far more than Beck thought possible about the subject, and he took the opportunity to focus on his wife. “Are you mad?”
“At you showing up for dinner?”
“Yes.” And anything else he might have done. The day wasn’t over and the past still loomed large no matter that she’d said she didn’t hate him. The line between love and hate was blurred, or so he’d heard, and maybe it was better she had a passionate response to him.
She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. It’s nice to see Kamil again.”
He caught the server’s eye and ordered another round of drinks—juice for Grace. He did his best to ensure she ate well, pleased the morning sickness had been fleeting and aware he watched her like a hawk. Refraining from smothering her with attention had been a test of his fortitude. “He’s only here for a few days. Maybe he can come by the house?”
“It’s your house, Beckett.”
She spoke the truth and there was no snark in her voice, but he still grit his teeth. “Dinner tomorrow? Or the next night?”
“Oh, you want me there?”
“Yes, Grace. I want you there. You like him and he likes you. He’s my best friend. I was thinking maybe we could ask him to be our baby’s godparent.”
Color flushed her cheeks. “That would be … nice.”
Again he was struck by how alone she actually was in the world. He’d teased a few details from her about her growing-up years and thought he’d figured out the rest. He’d had every advantage as a man and look how he’d turned out. “I think it’d be okay, even if he has different religious beliefs. Have you thought about asking Charity?”
Ducking her head, she nodded. “I did. But we haven’t discussed it since. I want to wait and be sure.”
“Everything is going fine, Grace.” He willed it to be so. “You’re just past that … other time.”
“I know. I’ve been counting.”
Of course, she had. They both had, and that was one thing they hadn’t discussed. Charity and Kamil ceased their intense conversation and the talk turned to recent movies and current events. Beck knew Grace waited for new films to come out on pay-for-view, disliking the noise in the theater and reminded her of one coming up. She smiled his way and he promised they’d watch it together, enjoying her consent, if accompanied by a startled look in her eyes.
He capitalized on their proximity to ease a bit closer and was gratified when she didn’t try to put space between them. She was wearing a simple dress in a shade of pink that emphasized her ethereal look, though her newly trimmed hair and subtle makeup loaned itself to the more mature woman she was becoming. He gave a rueful twitch—Grace had acted far more maturely than him.
“You look beautiful.”
She blinked, and her pupils dilated. He longed to kiss her until those soft pink lips turned rosy red and puffed from his attention. Mark her slender neck with his stubble. Sexual tension crackled between them and then dissipated when she looked away and he recalled the reason he’d denied her a kiss. Shades of fucking Pretty Woman. He was an ass. Had been. No longer. Never again. He prayed she’d let him in.
It then became apparent that her friend and his—theirs—had most definitely connected, if now looking their way, and when the women went off together to the washroom, he said, “Really, Kamil? Grace’s best friend?”
“She is gorgeous.”
“Not your usual type.”
“The women at home have fallen prey to starving themselves in order to meet magazine standards. In order to wear the clothing your company designs. Charity owns her form. It’s refreshing.”
The woman was definitely full-figured, voluptuous, and Beckett could admit that she exuded an earthy
sensuality. Not that he really took note, seeing as she was Grace’s best friend. He thought she was intelligent and big-hearted and was grateful Grace had her in her life. He didn’t want anything to interfere with that. “Tread softly, buddy.”
“Are you protecting Charity or your wife?”
“Both?”
Kamil laughed. “Grace is an angel. She requires your protection. Charity, on the other hand, does not. I assure you.”
Why had he suggested this dinner? Then he compounded it. “Come to the house the night after next. For dinner. Bring Charity.”
“I’ll come. And perhaps she will bring herself. I doubt anyone can influence that beautiful woman.”
****
Grace was already in bed, curled up in her usual position when he emerged from the attached bath. “Are you asleep?”
“No. But I’m tired. It’s been a long day, and I have… I have things to do tomorrow. I wish I had more energy.”
He climbed in beside her and eased closer, as he’d done in the restaurant. She smelled of the same fresh flowers and he inhaled deeply. He’d respected the distance between them physically, but time was passing and he thought Kamil’s suggestion that he reach out and hint at his interest was a good one. That sounded better than seduction. “What’s on the agenda?”
She stiffened and he risked placing a hand on her upper arm. Immediately, she rolled to her back and came up on her elbows. “Excuse me?”
“Tomorrow. What are you doing?”
Indecision warred visibly on her face and he held his breath. She said, “The thing I’m working on… I have someone coming by tomorrow. She won’t be in your way.”
“First of all, you live here. It’s your house too, Grace. You can have visitors.” Lord knew there had been a parade of people from his work coming and going unless it was a meeting that was required, whereby he went into the office.
“Okay.” She nibbled her bottom lip and he badly wanted to kiss away the imagined hurt.
Instead, he gently tapped her mouth. “Don’t.”
Maybe it was his proximity or his touch, but, as earlier, her eyes dilated and she took in a deep breath. She wasn’t immune to him, no matter her protest. He might have dwelled on the difference between love and lust but instead, he focused on the way her breasts swelled behind the fabric of her nightgown. He knew better than to suggest she sleep naked. He admired their shape, noting the faint peaking of the nipples.
Love Changes Everything (Romance on the Go Book 0) Page 10
