* * *
For Alina the family-owned restaurant with its discreet booth tables was ideal. She hadn’t asked the name of the suburb; that would be making it a memory for keeping. Though, perversely, she knew she’d never forget the tasty meal, the restful music from the live band...her attentive escort.
Couples were moving on to the small dance floor and she watched them with envy. She had once known how it felt to be held tenderly, barely moving in a traditional lovers’ slow shuffle. Without warning, images of all the women Ethan might have entertained here broke into her daydream. Stunning. Polished. Fashion connoisseurs who’d dance faultlessly.
‘Hey.’ His deep voice cut through her thoughts and she turned to meet his amused gaze. ‘You’re very pensive. Care to share?’
Not in a million years. The predictable warmth stole up her neck. ‘Just enjoying the music. The meal was delicious. Is this a favourite haunt of yours?’
‘A friend brought me here last year. I kept it in mind, waiting for a special occasion.’ He put his hand invitingly, palm up, on the table. ‘Never found one until today.’
Mesmerised by his incredible dark blue eyes, she laid her hand in his. He began to stroke her knuckles with his thumb. She dismissed the danger signals in her head. Her skin tingled from his touch. Her throat dried up, and liquid wasn’t the solution.
Had she been so sensitive to male contact before? Had her hormones gone this crazy ten years ago? Those memories were locked away, never, ever to be revisited.
Ethan had seen her wistful expression as she watched the couples moving around the floor, her body swaying in time to the music. She was in another world. A long-lost world? He wanted her in the here and now, totally focused on them.
She’d provoked an acute rush of satisfaction when she’d given him her hand. His heartbeat had spiked, unaccustomed yearning snaking through him. The eons-old urge of man to protect his child? Or primitive gratification that its mother trusted him to safeguard them both?
‘Dance with me, Alina.’
She glanced across the room, shook her head. ‘I’ll embarrass you. I only do modern stuff with no touching. Nothing like this.’ She gestured towards the dancers. ‘They are so graceful.’
‘No touching ever?’ His eyebrows rose in disbelief. ‘Or only since...?’ He left his question unfinished, didn’t need a reply.
She tried to free her hand, merely succeeded in twisting it so that his thumb pressed into her palm. Stopped resisting when he resumed his slow caress. Was he playing fair? Touching and kissing hadn’t been mentioned when they’d first made their agreement. There’d been no reason in that emotionless civil conversation.
‘You’re denying something you really want, Alina. Trust me. You’ll regret it if you don’t.’
Cautious eagerness dawned in her sceptical eyes. ‘Your toes might regret it if I do.’
He laughed, walked round the table without letting her go. ‘Let’s find out.’
Drawing her to her feet, he led her onto the dance floor. He placed her left hand on his shoulder, his right hand on her waist, then clasped her free hand in his, over his heart. Each movement was slow, deliberate. Non-threatening to her peace of mind.
‘Look at me, Alina.’
Alina did.
‘Trust me.’
She did.
‘Let me guide you.’
He held her firmly, murmured in her ear and directed her steps with his thighs. His breath tickled her earlobe, his cologne filled her nostrils. Heat radiated from his touch as he compensated for her initial stumbling. She let her muscles go loose, giving him full control of her movements.
They glided round the room as if floating on air. Her eyelids fluttered. The music combined with the man to create an ethereal realm she wished she could stay in for ever. No more sorrow. No more loneliness. She gave a soft sigh, glanced up—into a searing wave of cobalt desire.
Their feet stopped moving; their bodies swayed in time with the rhythm of the music. She couldn’t swallow, couldn’t breathe, yet she felt his deep intake of air. Felt...
Guilt—as strong and shattering as when she’d been the only survivor.
The magic dissolved into stark reality. She began to shudder—couldn’t stop. She tried to pull away, found herself being ushered to their table and gently settled into her seat. The strong arm stayed around her, supportive, grounding.
A moment later there were muffled words in a concerned tone, a deep reply. Deep as Ethan’s voice but clipped, disconnected, not like him at all. She did know that it was his fingers lifting her chin, and hazily wondered why they trembled.
‘Alina?’
She blinked, saw his pale face, his brow creased in concern. She bent her head, unable to find words to explain.
His hand dropped. ‘Let’s go home. We’ll talk there.’
‘No.’ Plaintive, even to her own ears.
‘We have to.’ Soft-spoken. Decisive.
They drove home in silence. Alina counted cars as they passed, timed their stops at traffic lights—anything to keep from dwelling on the talk ahead. Could she feign a headache? Believable in the circumstances, but delaying the inevitable.
If Ethan James wanted to talk, they’d talk—sooner rather than later.
CHAPTER EIGHT
ETHAN KEPT HER hand in his after locking the car, only letting go to allow her to enter the apartment first. How come she’d not only become used to that small intimacy but welcomed it? She dropped her bag onto the island, walked round to make hot drinks.
‘Would you like coffee?’ She reached for a bronze pod.
‘Make it a black pod. I need a strong kick.’ He was already walking towards the hall, discarding his jacket as he went.
Good idea. She picked up her bag and headed for her room to change. Jeans and a casual top were more conducive to a serious discussion.
In the few minutes it took her he’d returned, and their drinks were ready in the lounge.
‘Biscuits?’
She shook her head. ‘No, thank you.’
His lips twitched at the corners, just a tad. ‘Chocolate?’
So he’d noticed the wrappers in the bin and her stash in the cupboard. Again she declined. Why the heck was she being so formal? Last night the atmosphere had been light and friendly. Today even better. Until that moment when the past had reasserted its claim on her.
She sat in the corner of the settee, drawing her legs up tight when he chose one of the armchairs, putting extra space between them. She stared at the mug in her hands, dreading the words she might hear, fearing he might be annoyed if she couldn’t or wouldn’t answer.
‘We have to talk, Alina.’
The sombre tone of his voice brought her head up. His eyes had the sharp intensity she remembered from when she’d taken over filling in the marriage application. As if reading her inner thoughts was the only thing that mattered at this moment.
‘This isn’t going to work the way we are now. I’ve never had a problem with women before, but now I’m second-guessing what to do. For our baby’s sake we have to convince everyone we’ve had a passionate affair.’
‘And I’m failing miserably. I’m sorry, Ethan. I don’t know how... There was only ever...I...’ The words wouldn’t come. She bit the inside of her lip, looked down at her white knuckles gripping the hot mug.
His hollow laugh snapped her gaze back to his face.
‘I’m not doing much better, Alina. I never knew grief could be so overwhelming, so soul-draining. You brought some light into my dark world. Now you’re here—so sweet and beautiful, so vulnerable.’
He leant forward, hands clasped between spread knees.
‘I can’t deny the physical attraction. Can’t fathom whether it’s linked with knowing you’re carrying Louise’s
baby. Tonight—the music, dancing with you in my arms—I was in a new world. I frightened you, and I’m sorry—’
‘No. It wasn’t you,’ she cut in. ‘There’ve been so many first-for-a-long-times for me, it’s bewildering. I feel like I’ve been thrown back into mainstream city living without a guidebook.’
She suddenly realised she was mimicking his stance, sharing his desire for their plan to succeed. Something shifted inside her, as if the extra tightening around her heart that had come when she’d heard about Louise and Leon had slipped a few notches. The old pain remained. She’d accepted only death would bring that to an end.
‘It’s only been four days. I didn’t expect to stay in Australia—much less with you.’ She smiled, watched as his eyes softened and his brow cleared. His answering smile lifted her heart. ‘I’m rusty in all the social niceties of sharing a home and...and things.’
He shifted as if to stand, sank back. ‘I don’t have a good track record there. I’ve only had two live-in relationships, neither here, and neither lasting more than five months. Both confirmed my belief that I’m not cut out for domesticity. I’m too pragmatic—and, as one of them pointed out, I’ve no romance in my soul. Assuming I have a soul.’
‘That’s better for us, isn’t it?’ Although did she really want him to stop his gentle touches, his scorching looks? His kisses?
‘No.’ Sharp. Instant.
He came to sit at the other end of the couch, folding one leg up, spreading one arm along the back. She wriggled into her corner and listened.
‘We need to create an illusion of instant attraction and overpowering passion. I’ve never been demonstrative with girlfriends in public. Little more than hand-holding and social greetings. So a good way to convince people our affair was different is to show affection in front of them.’
‘You mean kiss if someone’s watching?’
‘Alina, we’re implying that we had a short, tempestuous affair that resulted in your becoming pregnant. That you’re here with me now will tell everyone you mean more than any other woman I’ve dated. Which is true in the nicest way. Our limited knowledge of each other doesn’t matter—displaying our irresistible attraction does.’
‘So somewhere between how we’ve been and how Louise and Leon were?’ Not a hard task, considering the way she reacted to him each time they touched. As long as she kept her heart secure.
‘Definitely less blatant—though I envied them their intimacy. I can’t imagine having such a close bond with anyone. I’m aware I’ll have to change the way I think and act, make it credible to friends and family. It’s not only me who’ll be affected by our success.’
She locked eyes with his. ‘The baby.’
‘Our baby. It’s essential my parents believe that. You have to be comfortable with me as your partner, alone and in company.’
‘I can.’ She heard the slight tremor. ‘I will be.’ Better. Stronger.
Ethan slid his leg off the couch. ‘Come here.’
That persuasive honey tone. Those compelling cobalt eyes.
She sidled along until there was barely a hand’s length between them. His fingers lightly traced her cheek. His arm slid around her, loose yet secure.
‘Any time you feel uneasy, tell me.’
His slow smile had her leaning in closer.
‘Any time you feel like taking the initiative, go right ahead.’
He stroked her hair, laid her head on his shoulder and cradled her against his body. His heart beat strong and steady under her hand, an echo of hers. His voice, his cologne, everything about him was becoming familiar, safe. It was a feeling she refused to analyse.
‘We’ll keep to ourselves for a couple of weeks. When you’re ready I’d like to arrange dinner with the couple I hope will agree to be our witnesses. If we’re out and meet anyone I know I’ll introduce you only by name. After the wedding I’ll tell my parents, and then the whole world can know.’
‘All at once?’ she teased, liking the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed down at her.
She also liked the sound of the couple he went on to describe—friends he’d known for years, who’d also known and visited Louise and Leon.
They made small talk, sat in quiet contemplation, still in an amicable embrace. When it was time to retire it was she who raised her face for his tender goodnight kiss.
* * *
Ethan leant against the wall, his gaze fixed on the light under her door, not quite sure what had happened tonight. A week ago he’d have claimed the scenario he’d suggested held no qualms for him, apart from the discomfort of their public displays.
He’d have bet his finest hotel that his romantic emotions would not have been involved, and still didn’t quite believe they were. The trauma of losing his sister and best friend, the shock of Alina’s pregnancy, plus his determination to take responsibility for the child were a formidable combination. It was enough to scramble anyone’s senses.
He still believed his decisions had been made with logic and foresight, with the child’s future wellbeing his main consideration. Main? He meant only. He’d be a single father, with all the problems that entailed. Public displays had to be kept objective—surface emotion only.
Yet he couldn’t deny that Alina slipped under his guard whenever they were together, popped into his thoughts when they weren’t.
The light went out. He whispered, ‘Pleasant dreams...’ and went to his big, lonely bed.
* * *
Alina woke early, had coffee brewing and the table set for breakfast by the time Ethan walked down the hallway dressed for work.
‘Good morning.’ He sat opposite and poured his favourite sugarbomb cereal. ‘Do you want a lift anywhere this morning?’
‘No.’ Too quick. Too sharp.
Last night their decision had sounded plausible, simple to put into practice. This morning, as water had cascaded over her in the shower, she’d decided she wanted some alone time, to mull it over and fully accept its implications in her head.
‘I’d like to practise on the laptop. I bet there are functions I’ve never heard of.’
‘There are probably programs I’ve never used either. Any questions you have I’ll try to answer later. With luck, and few interruptions, I might only need a few hours at the office.’
‘Don’t you usually work all day on Saturday?’
‘Ah, that was the old me in the old days.’ His sparkling eyes belied his self-critical tone. ‘A pre-baby workaholic. Now I’m in training to be the best daddy ever.’ His voice roughened over the last sentence, and the sparkle dimmed a little.
Alina covered his hand with hers. ‘You will be, Ethan. You’ll be everything they’d want their child to have in a father.’
‘And mother.’
She jerked her hand away. He caught it.
‘There won’t be any other. I sure as hell won’t marry again just to provide maternal comfort or for the public two-parent image. I’ve learned from experience how a marriage held together purely for society standing can influence a child.’
That was why he’d have no problem letting her go, would never try to persuade her to stay.
There was no justification for the dejection that washed over her. No reason for the retort that burst from her.
‘Louise turned out fine. She was generous, warm-hearted and open. Even through her medical traumas there was always a genuine welcome for anyone at their home. You know how everyone loved her because she was...was...she was Louise.’
‘And I’m not like her?’ He released her hand, picked up his spoon.
‘I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant.’
‘No, but it’s true. She never changed from the sweet, wide-eyed creature the nanny at the time put into my arms when I was five. She grabbed my finger, gurgled, and I
immediately forgave her for not being the brother I wanted.’
His light laughter was tinged with remorse.
‘I wish I’d been as courageous as her—constantly rebelling against the rigid conformity of our upbringing, openly making friends with people she liked, whether they were deemed acceptable or not. My way was quiet avoidance rather than personal confrontation.’
‘You kept Leon’s friendship, and championed them when they wanted to marry.’
He huffed. ‘My parents didn’t like that. I don’t think they’ve forgiven me for supporting Louise’s declaration that she’d happily have a park wedding without them. Not the “done thing” in their circle. It would have been embarrassing, so they capitulated.’
‘Do you see them regularly?’
‘We have little in common—different standards. They’d like me to be more involved in their close-knit elite group. I dislike the way they boast about my success to elevate their own status. They are, however, the only parents I have, so we maintain a polite relationship.’
He ate for a moment, eyes downcast. Pondering. Then looked up and spoke with determination.
‘Forget them for now. Cutting down my office hours is essential to my being available for appointments right now, and planning for our baby in the future. So I’ve been reorganising my staff.’
‘You’re delegating?
‘Even better—I’ve promoted. My second-in-command now has two assistant managers. Between the three of them they’ll take most of the day-to-day load off me. By the time our baby comes everything should be working smoothly enough for me to take paternity leave.’
‘Decision made. Action taken. Problem solved.’
‘You don’t approve?’ He sounded disappointed.
‘I do. Very much. It’s so much a part of who you are. And it’s been a long time since I’ve felt secure enough to depend on anyone for anything.’
She was paying him a compliment, saying what he should want to hear. Ethan shouldn’t feel aggrieved, but he did. She admitted to trusting and relying on him—both important to their relationship. But he wanted something different, something more. Something indefinable.
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