by Amanda Aksel
“Why don’t you sit down?” Dad yanks me from my fantasy.
I shake my head and take a seat. Is that what I want? To end up with Mick and raise our child in England? Of course it is! Or at least a version of what I’ve always wanted. But every time I envision a relationship up in my head—which is every single time—I’m always, always, always left picking up the pieces of my broken heart. I brush the thought away.
Then I get a whiff of something strong and sweet. Smells like Versace. I sniff hard, flaring my nose. “Are you . . .?” I give my dad an odd look. “Are you wearing cologne?”
He darts his eyes to Suzanne then back at me. “Yes.”
“Why? You trying to impress one of the nurses or something?” I wouldn’t put it past him.
His eyes bulge, and his face turns pink. “No. Just because I’m stuck in a hospital bed doesn’t mean I need to smell like it.”
I throw my hands up in surrender. “You’re right. Sorry. You smell really nice.” Dad is definitely a cologne wearer. Probably explains why I’m drawn to scented men. Sometimes when I’m shopping at Barneys, I peruse the cologne counters and imagine the type of man who matches the musk.
“David!” Mick-Handsome’s voice booms as he heads for my dad but glances my way. Thank God he can’t hear my fluttering heart right now. Too bad I can’t repress this growing grin on my face. Dead giveaway. “I see you’re over eating red meat.”
“I’m not over anything. I’m just following doctor’s orders,” Dad says with a mouth full of romaine.
“That’s what I like to hear.” The good doctor pulls his stethoscope from around his neck and smiles at me. “Hey.”
I swear the space around him gets fuzzy, while his deep-blue eyes and slightly curled hair sharpen in my view like a fantasy scene from a show in the ’90s. It’s like my dad’s not there. No one else is here except for Mick and me. “Hey.” Why does he look extra appealing today?
Mick takes the scope out of his ears and checks the screen of his tablet. “You’re recovering very quickly. I think I’ll let you get out of here tomorrow.”
Dad lets out a loud sigh. “Thank God for that.”
“I’ll reserve the hotel!” Suzanne calls out, pointing her finger in the air.
My fluttering heart takes a nosedive into my gut. Hotel? That means tonight’s my last night in Mick Manor. If I’m stuck at the hotel taking care of my dad, I’ll hardly see Mick before I go back to LA. I don’t want that. Oh, man. I’ve had some bad crushes in my time, but carrying the man’s baby makes it ten times worse. I take a deep breath, reminding myself about my love-addicted pattern. It’s going to be okay. We will figure it out.
“Actually, I have another suggestion,” Mick says, stuffing his hands in his coat pockets. The three of us give him our full attention. “It’s unorthodox but since Beau is already staying at my house, I wanted to invite you and Suzanne to stay at the manor until you return to the States. There’s plenty of room. I have a staff, and of course, I’ll be around if anything changes with your condition.” Mick-Generous rocks on his heels, and I’m almost certain that he’s actually nervous. But I love, love, love the idea, and I love him for offering. I mean . . . I appreciate him for the offer. A lot.
“That sounds like a great idea, Doc! Thank you for the offer. We’d love to stay there,” Dad says. I almost lunge over and kiss Dad on the cheek for accepting. More time with Mick is just what the doctor ordered. Literally.
Mick nods. “Brilliant. I’ll have them discharge you in the morning, and I’ll arrange transportation.”
“Oh, no, we can get the car.” Suzanne waves.
“Please,” Mick says, holding his hand over his heart. “I insist.”
My eyes grow wide, and I wouldn’t be surprised if little cartoon hearts are shooting out of them.
Suzanne nods. “Thank you. That’s very kind.”
“I’ll see you both tomorrow.” Mick tilts his chin and turns to leave.
“Wait, Mick!” I call and he stops in his tracks. “You think I can catch a ride home with you later? I mean, back to your house?”
He gives me a starry-eyed look. “Of course, I won’t be leaving until after supper, though.”
I twirl my blonde locks around my finger. “That’s fine.”
“Maybe I can take you to my favorite Japanese place on the way home.”
Is he asking me out on a date? Like a real date? “Yeah. I love Japanese food.”
“Perfect. I’ll see you tonight.” His stare lingers for another moment before he turns to leave.
“Great! See you then.” I wave, watching him walk into the hallway with his superhero-like lab coat. Damn, that man is so Mick-sexy! I let the tiniest giggle slip out of my mouth and return to my seat next to my dad’s bed.
“So, you have a date tonight?” he asks just before he chomps on an apple slice.
I squish my face, shaking my head. “Pff! No, we’re just going to grab some dinner.”
“That better be all you’re grabbing,” he says low, under his breath.
“Daddy!” I call, and Suzanne giggles.
“Beau, I’m not an idiot. Clearly, you’ve got a thing for the doctor, which is fine. He’s a good guy. But you’re pregnant. This probably isn’t a good time to get involved with someone. Especially someone who’s not the baby’s father.”
That’s right. I blocked out the fact that I haven’t told Dad the truth. What would he say right now if he knew? I chew my lip, tempted to tell him—mostly so he’d give me his blessing to pursue Mick. Which I’m not exactly doing. I’m just letting things happen. Seeing how it goes in a very non-committal, but hoping and praying it turns into something real someday kind of way. “Don’t worry, Daddy. It’s not what you think it is.”
“Then what is it?”
I shrug. “It’s dinner.”
He rolls his eyes. “If you say so.”
Even though Dad’s stance might be totally different if he knew the whole story, his disapproval does, admittedly, give me pause. He’s got great instincts which makes him the best at his job. But what if he’s sensing something that I can’t because I’m in Mick- la-la-land? It certainly wouldn’t be the first time I was way off.
***
At seven thirty-seven, Mick shows up. Technically, he’s on time, but it feels like he’s hours late. I’ve barely been able to sit still since he left. I must’ve walked around the hospital ten times hoping I’d run into him. I didn’t, of course. But now we’re running into each other on purpose and going to dinner on purpose. Fortunately, Suzanne’s already gone back to her hotel, and Dad passed out holding the television remote.
“Hey,” I whisper, turning off the lights. A glow from the hallway peeks in through the door and open window blinds. My eyes trail up Mick’s face, and I breathe in his freshly showered scent. His hunter-green cashmere sweater fits perfectly, and I have to stop myself from reaching out to touch it.
“Hi.” He smiles and takes a step closer into the dark room. I watch his chest rise and fall. God, I wish I could kiss him right now and forget the consequences. “Are you ready?”
I nod and grab my things, blowing my dad a kiss while he sleeps. “Goodnight, Daddy,” I whisper.
Mick and I walk side by side down the hall. “How’s your nausea?”
“Better. I read that mint gum helps. I bought about twelve packs from the gift shop,” I say, chewing on an hour-old piece. I really don’t want to have another incident like the other night.
“That’s good.”
We get into an empty elevator and stand side by side in complete silence. My hand floats between us, almost grazing his. I want to touch him. Hell, I want to touch him everywhere. Would it be wrong of me to stop the elevator and jump on him, assaulting his lips with mine? Yes. I tuck my hand in my coat pocket. Let’s see how long I can keep it there.
“You must’ve had a busy day,” I say as we walk into the garage. “I’m sure you’re exhausted.”
“Busy, yes.
Exhausted? No.” Mick opens the door to his Aston Martin and I seat myself inside. The cold leather seats send a chill through my body, and I shiver.
Mick gets in the car and starts the engine. “So, what did you do all day?”
Fantasize about our future together. “Just hung out with my dad. It’s the most time I’ve spent with him in years probably.”
“Really?” he asks, pulling out of the parking space. “I got the impression that you two are close.”
“Yes and no. It’s complicated.”
“Ah, there’s that word again.”
“Yeah, I was right about it before, and trust me, I’m right about it now.”
“Can I ask why it’s complicated?”
“I love him more than he loves me.” I repeat the words I spoke to my therapist years ago. It’s a story I’ve gotten so used to that the words now come easily.
“I don’t think that’s true. I can tell he cares about you a lot. You seem to get along great.”
“He does and we do. But he has a habit of not prioritizing me in his life. He’s always been that way.” And so have all of my ex-boyfriends.
“My dad is the same way,” he admits.
I whip my head in his direction. “Really?”
“Oh, yeah. He’s just not the family man type. But I know he loves my brothers and me—the best he knows how.” Good to know we have such great parental influences in our lives. “That’s why I’ll never be that kind of father.” He takes his eyes off of the road for a moment to look at me. It’s as if he’s making me a promise. A promise I want to trust.
“And I’ll never be that kind of mother.” Fortunately, I had a pretty great role model in my mom. I never questioned how much she loved me even though she worked a lot and it was difficult sometimes. When I become a mom, I want to be as present as I can be, which means I’d be giving up the lifestyle I’m used to. But I think it would be a more than fair trade.
Mick pulls over and parks the car on the street. “Here it is.” I look up at the bright white sign that reads Miyabi. We brave the cold for about forty feet. The smell of freshly steamed rice fills the restaurant as we step inside.
“Dr. Bonnaire, welcome,” the hostess greets us at the door.
I glance at Mick. “You’re a regular, huh?”
He blushes. “What can I say, best sashimi in London.”
“Would you like a table or a seat at the bar?”
Mick looks to me and I answer, “Table, please.”
She nods and escorts us to our seats, leaving us with a tray of steamed towels. I take one and fold my chilled fingers inside the terry-cloth fabric. “This feels good,” I say, a little too suggestively. It’s not intentional, but by the sensual gaze Mick’s giving me right now, I don’t think it was a bad thing.
“Good evening, sir.” Our waiter approaches the table. “Are you ready to order?”
Mick requests his usual, and I opt for the chef’s choice, wishing I could also have some sake.
“Chef’s choice, huh? You’re very adventurous,” Mick remarks.
I rest my chin on my fist. “I’m a foodie, remember?”
“Right, you said. And how did you get to be such a foodie?” His eyes grow with curiosity.
I tuck my hair behind my ear. “Well, let’s see . . . My parents never really expected me to do anything with my life, only because I didn’t want to go to college. So, to prove them wrong, I got into modeling right out of high school.”
“You were a model?” Mick raises his eyebrows. Does he think that’s a good thing or a bad thing?
Heat creeps up my cheeks. “I was.” It’s nothing I’m ashamed of, but it’s also not something I’m super proud of either. “It only lasted a few years. But I got to travel the world, and the thing I looked forward to the most was all of the exotic food. It became my mission to find the best local restaurant in every place I went to. Like, you know that sushi place in Japan that has a two-year waiting list?”
“The one that only seats ten people?”
“Yes! I’ve been there. And let me tell you, it was so worth the wait.” Our eyes meet, caught in a gaze, our lips curling up in a mutual smile.
“I know what you mean,” he says. “I’ve been there too.”
I gasp. “Seriously? When?” Does Mick love great food as much as I do, or is he just crazy about sushi?
“A couple years ago when I was there for a conference. I didn’t have to wait, but it was very satisfying.” He leans in as he says the word satisfying, and I’m pretty sure he’s not talking about sushi anymore.
I wet my bottom lip, wanting to jump over the table and give him something satisfying. “So, you must like eating out.”
Oh, my God.
I can’t believe I just said that.
I shake my head and let out a tiny laugh. “I mean, going to restaurants.”
He laughs. “I do.”
Luckily, our appetizers arrive before I have time to talk in circles, which is exactly how I’d handle the situation. “How crazy that we’ve been to two of the same restaurants around the world?” I ask.
Soul mate alert!
Yes, he’s it. He’s the one.
Mick cracks his wooden chopsticks apart and rubs the frayed edges together. “It is very coincidental.” I guess he doesn’t see it the same way I do. “Then again, when it comes to the two of us, there are too many coincidences to be considered accidental.” Then again, maybe he does.
“Maybe one day we can meet at Il Piacere on purpose,” I say.
Mick sips his tea. “I’d like that. You know what Il Piacere means, don’t you?”
My cheeks begin to blush. “The pleasure.”
“That’s right.” And that’s all I want—Mick and the pleasure. “So why did you stop modeling?”
“It was a lot of work for a job that wasn’t very fabulous. I already had money and could have that lifestyle without posing in my thong.”
Mick gulps down his fish, staring at me. Is he thinking about me in a thong now? Now I’m thinking about me in a thong. That one I wore in the hotel room. That one he slid down my thighs, filling me with anticipation as he slipped his hand over my . . .
“Anyway.” I take a long gulp of my green tea. “After that, I was in love with travel, and I’ve seen the world. You should see my passport. I had to order extra pages for all my stamps.”
“Been anywhere good lately?”
I shake my head. “No. This is the first time I’ve been out of the country in almost a year. It feels good, actually. LA can get a little monotonous.”
“I remember you saying that when we were in New York.”
I smile. So he does remember our conversation. Well, so do I. “Yeah, and then you called it Tinseltown.”
“I did, didn’t I?” He laughs, looking slightly embarrassed.
I grin. “Yep, I’ll never forget it.”
Mick takes in a deep breath. “Yeah, there are things about that trip that I’ll never forget either.”
Oh yeah, here we go. “Like what?” I ask, brushing my hair off my shoulder.
“Like when you knocked on my door, requesting that I take your dress off.”
I smirk and my body begins to heat up from my face, to my neck, my chest, and down to my thong. “Actually, I asked you to unbutton my dress.”
“Then consider me the type to go the extra mile.”
I’ve missed flirting, especially with someone who’s amazing in every way possible. “What else do you remember?” I lean on the table, wishing I had worn a lower-cut top.
Mick flashes that gorgeous smile of his. “I remember when you kissed me in the hallway.”
“What? I didn’t kiss you. You kissed me,” I correct him.
He shakes his head with a little laugh. “Oh, no. I distinctly remember you kissed me.”
I throw my hands up playfully. “Okay, agree to disagree.”
“I also distinctly remember the way your legs shook when you came. Can we agree that happ
ened, not once, but twice that night?”
OMG!
I could come right now, not once, but twice, just from him talking like that. I run my finger along my bottom lip, hoping I’m not actually drooling over the thought of us in bed together. “I definitely don’t disagree with that.”
“You want to get out of here?” he asks.
I nod. Oh, yeah.
Mick doesn’t even wait for the check, he just leaves a wad of cash on the table and tells our waitress that there’s an emergency he has to attend to. We hurry to his car as if we’re running from a fire instead of toward one. I lean against the car door and pull him in for a delicious kiss. “You consider this an emergency?” I joke with our lips still touching.
“What could be more emergent than this?” He wrangles his arm around my waist, and I buck against him, feeling just how much he wants me. I want him too. He kisses me again, this time so hard it almost takes my breath away.
“Take me to the manor now,” I whisper.
“I don’t know if I can wait that long.” Our lips lock again like two magnets that can’t be separated. His mouth moves to the edge of my jaw, then down to my neck. Like a flower in full bloom, my body completely opens up for him.
A chilly breeze whips against my face, and the cold reality of everything hits me. Maybe I shouldn’t. But I want to. I need to.
“I want you now,” he whispers in my ear, the words shooting a tingle down my neck, causing a flutter in my stomach. Hmm, the baby doesn’t seem to mind.
“I want you too.” My eyes close, and I practically melt into him.
He pulls back and lets me into the car. The moment he gets in, I throw myself at him. I can’t help myself. His hand runs up my sweater and back down my thigh. Sliding down his chest, my hand lands on the bulge in his lap and strokes him above his pants.
