“Best sex ever? I like the sound of that.” She licked her lips seductively, leaned toward him, her breasts pressing against her glittery tank top.
So tempting. And definitely not the direction he needed to take with her.
He raised his brow at her. “You’re trying to distract me with your beautiful body.”
“And you are using flattery. We need more than that.” Crossing her arms, she scrutinized his face.
“I’ve made it clear I understand that. That’s what our time together has been about. But I am willing to use everything I have at my disposal. I am not giving up.”
“Everything?” She gestured to the flowers, the candy and a small jewelry box.
He’d forgotten about the gift he’d brought for her.
Pushing off the bed, he approached her, leaned on the arms of the chaise longue. He kissed her forehead, one arm around her, the other still cradling the box. “Flattery, which is easy because you are so very lovely. Charming words are tougher for me because I am a businessman, but for you, I will work so very hard with the words. And, yes, with gifts, too. Will you at least open it?”
She took the box from his hands, eyes fixed on his. Her fingers found the small bow. Gently, she slowly pulled the white bow off. The Tiffany box was bare, undressed now.
Erika lifted the lid, let out a small gasp. Two heart earrings encrusted in diamonds glinted back at her.
Gervais’s voice dropped half an octave. “It made me think of our children. Two beautiful hearts.”
He tucked a knuckle under her chin and raised it to see her face. Tears welled in her eyes.
Pulse pounding, he put his arms around her, held her tight to his chest. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
She shook her head, her silky blond hair tickling his nose. “It is sweet, truly. Thoughtful. A wonderful gift.”
Kneeling in front of her, he wiped the tears off her pale cheeks. He’d wanted to get her something meaningful. Drawing her hands in his, he kissed the back of each one, then the insides of her wrists in the way he knew sent her pulse leaping. He could feel it even now as he rubbed his thumbs against her silky skin. “I want this to work. Tell me what I can do to make that happen. It is yours.”
Her eyes flooded with conflicting feelings. It was as if he could see into her thought process where she worked so hard to weigh the pros and cons of a future. Somehow he knew she was at the precipice of the answer she’d been looking for. One he was scared as hell to receive.
And, cursing himself for his weakness, he couldn’t resist this one last chance to sway the outcome. To make her want to stay. So he kissed her deeply, ebbing away the pressure of speech to make room for the pleasure they both needed.
Eleven
Gervais had Erika in his arms and he wanted that to go on for... He couldn’t think of a time he wouldn’t want her. Every cell inside him ached to have her. So much so his senses homed in to her. Almost to the exclusion of all else. Almost to the point where he lost sight of the fact he’d left the door ajar.
And now someone was knocking lightly on that door.
With more than a little regret, he set her away from him and struggled to regulate his breathing before turning to the door to find...a security guard?
Hell. How could he have forgotten for even a second that his family’s wealth and power carried risk? They needed to stay on watch at all times.
Security guard James Smithson stood on the other side of the half-open door, his chiseled face grave.
Gervais had always liked James—a young guy, athletic and focused. James had almost made the cut for the team. The poor kid was in an interesting position; he’d declined a college football scholarship when his high school girlfriend became pregnant. James attended an online school while helping raise their son, but he’d shown up at a couple of Hurricanes training camps with impressive drive, even though his stats weren’t quite strong enough.
So before Dempsey could send him home, Gervais had taken him aside and found out he had skills off the field, too. He’d offered him help forming his own security company, making him a part of the Hurricanes family.
“Sorry to disturb you, sir, but we have some unexpected company.”
“I don’t accept unexpected guests. You know that.” Gervais stared at the guard. Who, to be fair, was doing a damn good job at not looking at Erika in her tight-fitting sparkly tank top that revealed her killer curves. Even so, he found himself wanting to wrap her up in a sheet. Just to be safe.
“I understand that, sir,” James assured him. “But...”
Erika looked back and forth between the guard and Gervais. “I’ll leave the two of you to talk.” She closed the jewelry box and clutched it to her chest. “If you’ll excuse me.”
James held up a hand. “Ma’am, I believe you’ll want to stay.”
Ericka’s face twisted in confusion. “I’m not sure how I can be of help—”
James scrubbed his jaw awkwardly. “It’s your family. Their limos are just now coming through the front gate.”
Gervais blinked slowly. “Limos?” Plural?
“My family?” Erika stammered, color draining from her skin. “All of my family?”
James gave a swift nod, his gun just visible in a shoulder harness under his sports jacket. “It appears so, ma’am. Both of your parents, four sisters, three of them married and some children, I believe?”
Gervais scratched the back of his head right about where an ache began. Talk about a baptism of fire meeting all the in-laws at once. So many. “I think we’re going to need to air out the guesthouse.”
* * *
The pressure of a headache billowed between Erika’s temples. As she stood in the grand living room, attention drawn outside, past the confines of this room, she felt everything hit her at once. First, her conflicting feelings for Gervais, and now this.
Her entire family, down to her nieces, was here. Now. Her eyes trailed past the bay windows to where Gervais, her father, Gervais’s brothers and his grandfather stood on the patio. Having drinks as if this was the most casual affair ever. As if this was something they had done together for years. Gervais had a gift with that, taking charge of a situation and putting everyone at ease.
She’d spent so much time focusing on the reasons to hold back, she forgot to look for the reasons they should. There was a lot to admire about this man. His obvious love of his family. His honorability in his standing up to care for his children. And the way he handled his business affairs with a mix of savvy and compassion. Her heart was softening toward him daily, and her resolve was all but gone.
And of course there was the passionate, thorough way he made love to her. A delicious memory tingled through her. She tore her eyes from him before she lost the ability to think reasonably at all.
Her father, Bjorn Mitras, slapped his knee enthusiastically at something Gervais had said. So they were getting along.
The mood inside the living room was decidedly less jovial. She could feel her sisters and mother sizing her up. Determining what Erika ought to do. And if she had to bet, getting her Master’s in Nursing wasn’t even on the table anymore. They’d never supported her ambitions. And if she was carrying a male child...well, they’d certainly have a lot of opinions to throw at her.
For the first time since learning she was pregnant, Erika felt alone.
She had hoped for an ally in Fiona, but Fiona hadn’t come to meet everyone. She wasn’t feeling well. Erika was not feeling all that great herself right now. Her family overwhelmed her in force.
Turning reluctantly from the bay windows, she studied her mother. Arnora Mitras had always been a slight, slim woman. Unlike other royals, she recycled outfits. But Arnora was a friend of many fashion designers. She was always draped in finery, things quite literally off the runway.
<
br /> Her four sisters—Liv, Astrid, Helga and Hilda—stood in the far corner, discussing things in hushed tones. The twins, Helga and Hilda, both had the same nervous tic, tracing the outline of their bracelets. It was something that they had both done since they were little girls. Erika squinted at them, trying to figure out what had them on edge.
But it was Astrid who caught her gaze. Blue eyes of equal intensity shone back at her. Astrid gave a curt nod, her honey-blond bob falling into her face.
It was a brief moment of recognition, but then Astrid turned back to the conversation. Back to whispering.
Three of her sisters had married into comfort, but not luxury. Not like what the Reynauds offered. And they lived across Europe, leading quieter lives. No male heirs, no extravagance. A part of Erika envied that anonymity, especially now.
Of course, Gervais had seen to every detail. And in record time. He called in all the staff and security. Arranged what looked like a small state dinner in record time. He even had nannies brought in for her nieces.
Beignets, fruit and pralines were decadently arranged into shapes and designed. It looked almost too beautiful to eat. Erika watched as her sisters loaded their plates with the pastries and fruit, but they eyed the pralines with distrust. They weren’t an open-minded bunch. They preferred to stick to what they knew. Which was also probably why they skipped over the iced tea and went straight for the coffee. That was familiar.
“Mother—” the word tumbled out of Erika’s mouth “—some advance notice of your visit would have been nice.”
“And give you the opportunity to make excuses to put us off? I think not.”
Sighing unabashedly, Erika trudged on. “I was not putting you off, Mother. I was simply...”
“Avoiding us all,” Helga finished for her as she approached. The rest of the Mitras women a step behind her.
“Hardly. I wanted time to prepare for your visit and to ensure that every detail was properly attended to.”
Helga gave a wave to the spread of food and raised her brow. She clearly didn’t believe Erika’s protest. “This place is amazing. You landed well, sister.”
“I am only visiting and getting things in order for our babies’ sake.” Erika’s words were clipped, her emotions much more of a tangle.
“Well, you most certainly have something in common. Relationships have been built on less. I say go for it. Chase that man down until he proposes.” The last word felt like nails on a chalkboard in Erika’s ears. She schooled her features neutral, just as she had done when she was a translator. No emotions walked across her face.
Erika stayed diplomatically quiet.
Her mother’s delicately arched eyebrow lifted, and she set her bone china coffee cup down with a slow and careful air. “He has already proposed? You two are getting married?”
“No, I did not say we are getting married.”
“But he has proposed,” Hilda pressed gently.
“Stop. This is why I would have preferred you wait to meet him. Give Gervais and me a chance to work out the details of our lives without family interference, and then we will share our plan.”
Liv waggled her fingers toward the French doors leading to the vast patio. “His family is here.”
“And they are not pushy,” Erika retorted with conviction. She wasn’t backing down from this. Not a chance.
“We are not pushy, either. We just want what is best for you.” Hilda’s porcelain complexion turned ruddy, eyes widening with hurt and frustration like during their childhood whenever people laughed at her lisp. She always had been the most sensitive of the lot.
Smoothing her green dress, Liv—always the prettiest, and the most rebellious, the infamous sex tape being the least of her escapades—took a deep breath and touched her hair. “I think all of this travel has made me a bit weary. I shall rest and we will talk later.”
And with that her mother, Liv, Helga and Hilda all left the grand living room, heels clacking against the ground.
But Astrid didn’t leave. She hung back, eyes fixed on Erika.
Anger burned in Erika’s belly. Astrid was her oldest sister. The one who always told her what to do. She had been the sister to lecture her as a child. Erika fully anticipated some version of that pseudo-parental “advice” to spill out of Astrid’s lips.
“Keep standing up for yourself. You are doing the right thing.”
Gaping, Erika steadied herself on the back of the tapestry sofa. “Seriously? I appreciate the support but I have to say it would be nice to have with Mother present.”
Astrid shrugged. “She is frightening and strong willed. We all know that. But you do understand, you are strong, too. That is why we pushed you off the balcony first.”
“Wow, thanks,” Erika grumbled, recalling the terrifying drop from balcony to homemade trampoline.
“You are welcome.” Astrid closed her in a tight embrace. In a half whisper, she added, “I love you, sister.”
“I love you, too.” That much of life was simple.
If only the other relationships—her relationship with Gervais—could be as easily understood. Or maybe they could. Perhaps the time had come to stop fighting her emotions and to embrace them.
Starting with embracing Gervais.
* * *
With the arrival of Erika’s family, work for the Hurricanes had taken a backseat. Not that he would have had it any other way. They were his children’s aunts and grandparents. They were important to him. He had to win them over—particularly her father, the king, not that King Bjorn had shown any sign of disapproval.
But important or not, they were the reason he was just now getting to his charts and proposals in the wee small hours of the morning.
Gervais pressed Play on the remote. He was holed up in the mini theater. He had a few hours of preseason games from around the league to catch up on. This was where he’d been slacking the most. Hadn’t spent much time previewing the talent on the other teams yet. Because while Dempsey would fine-tune a solid fifty-three-man roster from the talent currently working out with the team, Gervais needed to cultivate a backup plan for injuries and for talent that didn’t pan out. That meant he needed to familiarize himself with what else was out there, which underrated players might need a new home with the Hurricanes before the October trade deadline.
A creak from the door behind him caused him to turn around in his seat. Erika was there, in the doorway. A bag of popcorn in one hand, with two sodas in the other.
She certainly was a sight for his tired eyes. He drank her in appreciatively, noting the way her bright pink sundress fit her curves, the gauzy fabric swishing when she walked. The halter neck was the sort of thing he could untie with a flick of fabric, and he was seized with the urge to do just that.
As soon as possible. Damn.
“I thought this could be like a date.” She gave him a sly smile, bringing her magnolia scent with her as she neared him, a lock of blond hair grazing his arm.
He took the sodas from her and set them in the cup holders on either side of the leather chairs in the media room.
“Well, then, best date ever.”
“That seems untrue.” Worry and exhaustion lined her voice. “I am sorry about my family arriving unexpectedly. And for how much time they are taking out of your workday.”
“It’s no trouble at all. They are my children’s grandparents. That’s huge.” Pausing the game, he gave her a genuine smile, conceding that he wouldn’t be giving the footage his full attention now. But he had notes on the talent across the league, of course. As an owner, he didn’t run the team alone.
And right now nothing was more important to him than Erika and his children.
Settling deeper into the chair beside him, Erika flipped her long hair in front of one shoulder and centered the bag of popcorn betwe
en them.
“I also appreciate how patient you have been. And my sisters loved the tours through New Orleans.” Erika leaned on his shoulder, the scent of her shampoo flooding his mind with memories of London. St. Louis. And last night. Making love, their bodies and scents and need mingling, taking them both to a higher level of satisfaction than he’d ever experienced.
Damn. He loved that. Loved that this smell made her present in his mind.
“Of course.” He breathed, kissed her head, inhaled the scent of her hair and thought of their shower together.
Her breath puffed a little faster from her mouth. She nibbled her bottom lip and gestured to the screen. “May I ask what you are doing?”
Gervais hit Play, a game springing to life. “Well, I have to get a feel for who is out there. I have a team to build. So I may have to replace my current rookies with some of these guys.”
Erika nodded. “And why is this so important to you? Why do you spend so much time on football when, according to the press, they are worth only a fraction of your overall portfolio?”
“Someone’s been doing her research,” he noted. Impressed.
“I was not joking when I told you that I am trying to figure out where to go from here. I am thinking through all possible paths.” Her blue gaze locked on him. “Including the one you have proposed.”
His chest ached with the need to convince her that was the best. But he restrained himself. Focused on her question.
“Why the focus on football?” he repeated, reaching into the popcorn bag for a piece to feed her. “My family is a lot like yours. They come with expectations. But I have my own expectations, and I’ve always wanted to carve out something that was all mine within the vast Reynaud holdings. Some success that I made myself, that was not handed to me. Does that make any sense?”
He presented her with the popcorn and she opened her lips. His touch lingered a bit longer than necessary against her soft mouth.
She chewed before she answered. “You want to stand on your own two legs?”
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