She moaned into his mouth, hands clasping his shirt. He laid her out on the bedspread and removed her clothes, dropping each piece to the floor. Then all he could do was stare. Stare at her smooth, pale skin. The line of fiery auburn hair between her legs, the purple nail polish tipping her delicate toes.
Beautiful, incredible. And, for this moment, all his.
He undressed, watching as her eyes flared beneath heavy lids. Standing over her, he admired her small breasts, rising and falling with each quickening breath as her pulse fluttered against her neck.
“You’re so hot,” she said.
Her compliment wasn’t poetic, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t appreciated. He laughed as he fell on top of her, careful to keep from crushing her into the mattress.
“You’re the hot one, sweetheart.” He kissed the protestation he saw forming on her lips, allowing his hands to roam to her bottom and the back of her thigh. He trailed his fingers along her center and found her slick, ready.
Keeping her leg elevated slightly, he flexed his hips and slid in to the hilt, encasing himself in her body. He shuddered and an echoing gasp stuttered from her lips. She was heaven. An answer to a prayer he hadn’t known how to say.
He dropped his forehead and laved her breasts as he continued to move inside her, the sensation of being wrapped in her tight warmth almost too much. Holding on to his orgasm at this point would be like stationing a train with a length of dental floss, but he’d try. For her, he’d try. She lifted her other leg and braced both feet at his lower back, pulling him closer. Deeper.
She ran her fingertips along his jaw and stared at him with depthless eyes. He held her gaze as they moved together, rhythm perfected, no reason now to interrupt and put on a condom.
“You feel so good.” Her breaths had shortened, her body coiled, ready for release. Slipping an elbow under her knee, he lifted her leg and deepened their connection. The intake of breath told him she liked this. So he eased into her again, drawing another high-pitched gasp from her throat. A few more thrusts and she’d come undone. He could see it on her gorgeous face. From her parted mouth, to the slender amber brows pressed together over her nose. But her eyes were closed. That wouldn’t do.
“Look at me.” He stopped moving and she opened them. “Good,” he told her. “Keep them open.” He slid out slowly, then just as slowly, back in.
Her lids fluttered closed. “Can’t.”
“You can.” He drew out of her.
She blinked, her eyes training on his.
This time when he pressed into her, he drew another gasp from her lips, but she kept her eyes open. Good girl. He wanted her to see him, wanted her to know it was him who was driving her out of her mind.
But she wasn’t the only one out of her mind. Another forward movement and he’d be incapable of keeping the promise he’d made to himself to hold out for her release. Thankfully, right then she let go, pulsing around him with such force that he followed, spilling inside her with a groan of ecstasy mixed with relief.
She caught his face in her hands when his forehead dropped to hers. He took another stuttering breath before he was able to open his eyes. Then he drank in the sight of her. Of her tipped smile, hooded eyes, her hair aflame on the white pillowcase behind her head.
Your baby growing in her belly.
Time froze. What he wanted—what he thought he didn’t want—solidified in that moment. He didn’t want to compartmentalize Kimber as he had every other woman in his life. Didn’t want to fit her into his schedule here and there or when it suited him. He wanted to fold her in so seamlessly that she couldn’t tell where he began and she ended.
They were supposed to talk when she exited that bathroom. Talk about the baby. About the future. About them. But now that he’d made love to her, now that his very foundation had splintered, he was afraid to say a word.
Or three words.
That would be extra bad.
He kissed her lips, holding them between his. As if he could keep the conversation from happening. He pulled away, knowing the words that came next weren’t likely what she wanted to hear.
“I have to get back to work,” he blurted. Desperately.
So fucking desperately.
He couldn’t stay. Not while she looked at him with that open vulnerability in her eyes. Not while his brain cells were writing sonnets and lifting boom boxes into the air. He kissed her again, hoping she didn’t hate him for running out on her.
“Feel free to stay,” he added as a caveat. Like that would be enough. He considered making a promise that he wouldn’t be long, that he’d bring dinner when he got home. But he could tell by the look on her face as she pulled the sheet over her breasts that she wouldn’t be here when he came back.
And he didn’t know what to say about that, either.
He climbed out of bed, gathered his clothes, and turned back for one last kiss. She stroked his cheek with her fingertips and gave him the smallest smile, saying nothing. There was nothing to say. Their bodies had said it all in the minutes they were entwined together.
Naked, he walked to his bedroom. They could pick this up later. Later, after he’d been at work for a few hours and could figure out what to say. The right thing to say, not the unhinged emotional vomit working its way up his esophagus.
As he saw it, they’d already sorted out the two most important things. Kimber was pregnant and she was keeping the baby.
The rest would work itself out.
* * *
The road trip to Ohio had started first thing the next morning. Kimber had made excellent time, pulling into the driveway of her mother’s immaculate condominium around two thirty.
Not too shabby.
She closed the creaky door on her charcoal gray Cavalier, kissed her fingers, and pressed them to the hood. Thank God the car made another road trip. Bless all of its two hundred thousand miles.
“There she is!” Her mom was dressed in a striped top and black capris, her toenails and fingernails matching blood red, her hair a coppery chin-length coif. Kimber had rarely, if ever, seen Grace Reynolds looking anything less than put together.
“Hi, Mom.”
“To what do I owe the honor of you visiting me on a workday?”
“You don’t owe me anything. I, however, owe Neil and Mick raises and Ginny a one-hundred-dollar shopping spree for Hobo Chic.”
Grace wrinkled her nose. “You had to bribe them?”
“It’s worth it.”
“Come in, tell me why you’re here.” She held the front door open. Kimber had sent her a text to let her know she was going to visit, but hadn’t told her any more than that.
She followed her mother inside. “Just wanted to see you.” And make you a grandmother. The kitchen was a sophisticated black and white with red rugs and curtains to accent. Understated was another thing her mother had never been.
Grace waved a hand. “Yeah, right. You drove here from Chicago ‘just to see’ me.” She retrieved the coffee canister from a cabinet and spared her a Mom-knows-better glance. “You may as well tell me what’s on your mind sooner than later.”
“After coffee,” Kimber promised. She ran to the bathroom, dumped her bag in her mother’s spare room—purple walls, white curtains, and a black wrought iron bed frame piled high with purple and white bedding. She faced herself in the mirror on the vanity in the corner and took a steeling breath. Here went nothing.
In the kitchen, her mom poured a cup of coffee for each of them. “Oh,” Kimber muttered. “I don’t think I should have caffeine.”
“Anxiety?”
She choked out a laugh. “You could say that. You could also say pregnancy.”
Grace froze, both mugs in her hands, eyes wide for a few seconds. Then her made-up face melted into a mask of happiness, her eyes brimming with tears, her voice a high squeak when she spoke. “I get a grandbaby?”
Abandoning the mugs on the kitchen table, she hugged Kimber hard enough to crush ribs. Well. She’d take
n that much better than Kimber had expected.
“Sit, sit.” Grace shoved the coffee in front of her. “It’s half-caff. And anyway, doctors say you can safely have a cup a day. Don’t fret.”
Kimber warmed her palms on the mug. Her mother’s house was a chilly, air-conditioned tomb. Menopause.
“Who is he?”
Just a guy I worked down a list of sex acts with.
“Um… well… funny story. Remember Angel Downey? My best friend from high school? I spent a summer at her house the year you and Dad divorced.”
Her mother’s mouth tightened. Amazing how the mention of the divorce hurt her after all these years. More reason to make sure Kimber married only once. “Of course. Lovely family.”
“I’m glad you said that.” Kimber gave her a sheepish smile. “It’s her older brother, Landon.”
“The one who’s engaged to a supermodel?”
“Was,” Kimber corrected. “They weren’t really… engaged. They had an arrangement of sorts.” Ugh. Did that sound horrible? “Anyway, I babysat for his nephew recently and we… well… we hit it off.”
“I’ll say,” her mother quipped, sipping her coffee. “Congratulations. You’ll be a remarkable mother. Especially since you’ll insist on keeping your identity, your job, your independence.” Grace speared her with a look, her brows angling.
Kimber gave her mom a tight smile. It was a speech she’d heard before. How Grace had given up her dreams, goals, and life to be a mother. As much as Kimber loved and appreciated her, there was always a part of her that felt responsible for her mother missing out on the part of her life Kimber had essentially taken.
Grace’s voice went hard, her eyes focused on the table as she lifted her mug. “Whatever you do, Kimber, do not marry this man.”
“His name is Landon,” Kimber said, frustrated her mother had called him this man instead of by his name. “We’re not really at the marriage stage…” Which made her sound like a bit of a trollop, but it was the truth.
“Good.” Her mother’s no-nonsense tone had replaced the gushy grandmotherly one. “You don’t want to lash yourself to him forever because you made a baby together.”
Like I did, her tone implied.
“I see no reason why two parents can’t raise a child apart,” she continued. “You will need breaks. And if the father is sidebar, available to babysit, you’ll have more time to date.”
Kimber winced. That painted a… not fairy-tale-like picture. But she supposed fairy tales didn’t start and end with lists. Arrangements.
Last night wasn’t an arrangement.
Didn’t she know it. Landon had made the sweetest, softest love to her, watching her closely, the most frightening clarity in his eyes. He’d been gentle and perfect and… loving. So loving. Or had she been projecting her love onto him?
Maybe it’s not love. Maybe it’s the idea of love. The romanticism of carrying his child.
“I don’t want to date anyone, Mom,” she grumbled through her confusion. Unless I date Landon. So much for keeping emotional distance. Already, her thoughts were a jumbled, unsorted mass, like the unorganized boxes in her storeroom. She closed her eyes. Maybe there were more to these pregnancy hormones than she’d first thought.
“I want you to understand why it’s important that you don’t tie yourself to him.” Her mother, the jaded wonder, said. “Marriages like these start out with the best of intentions. You do it for the baby. You think you’re in love. You try and hold things together… then one day… you can’t stand looking at the man you vowed to stay with forever. Forever is a very long time.”
Her mother’s eyes were focused on a spot across the room, fuzzy with a memory Kimber was pretty sure she didn’t want to hear about. Grace refocused on her daughter, a diamond-hard glint in her dark eyes. “Don’t waste your best years, sweetheart. You have an amazing career. You can have everything.”
Was her mother really that unhappy with how her life had turned out? Yes, Kimber decided. Under her highly polished veneer, Grace was bitter and sad, and angry. And still in love with Dad. Kimber could only hope the subject of his new wife didn’t come up. She didn’t know if she could take a “Jill the Pill” rant today.
Is this what would become of Kimber if she gave into the feelings of love filling her chest right now? If she made the mistake of believing she and Landon were “forever” material? Would she be here, in her mother’s position thirty-two years later, casting shadows of doubt over her own daughter’s future?
God. She hoped not.
“You will keep your business, right?” her mother asked worriedly.
“Yes, of course.” In every imagined scenario of her future Kimber hadn’t dreamed of giving up Hobo Chic. The store was her lifeblood. Her mother knew about Mick, knew they’d dated and split, but she didn’t tell her how Mick owned half of Hobo Chic. Heaven forbid Grace find out her only daughter had attached herself to a man who was now partly responsible for keeping her business afloat. She would totally freak.
“You don’t have anything to worry about, Mom. I’m going to raise my child, and Landon is… very well-off. Child support will not be an issue,” she added for her mother’s benefit.
“They say that in the beginning, but you know your father complained about the two years he had to pay yours.”
TMI. But this wasn’t her argument. She rested her hand over her mother’s. “Let’s focus on now. What’s the first thing I need to do to prepare for this baby?”
The next afternoon, Kimber kissed and hugged her mother after loading up her car with purchases from the local Babies ‘R’ Us. Grace had gone a little shopping-happy, but as she was a future grandmother, Kimber figured that was her prerogative. Plus, unless Kimber dipped into the money she had squirreled away to buy Mick out of Hobo Chic, she really couldn’t afford expensive items like strollers and breast pumps. Grace’s doting, in this case, was much appreciated. Planning very, very far into the future, but appreciated all the same.
“You won’t miscarry,” her mother had told her as she climbed in the car. “Unplanned pregnancies never miscarry.”
She’d tried not to take her mother’s remark too personally.
Since hauling her purchases up the steep stairs to her apartment was not advised, Kimber had no choice but to ask for help when she returned home. She thought about calling Landon. He’d called yesterday but she ignored it, unsure what she’d say if she answered, or if she wanted him to know she’d driven to Ohio by herself.
For some reason, she was afraid if he knew she’d left town without telling him, he might feel hurt. Or worse, offer to show up. Then ask her to go to his father’s house and share the news with him, too. The idea of telling his family scared her. Probably because she felt as if she and Landon were in a waiting period. Only, waiting for what, she had no idea.
Inside Hobo Chic, Neil was busy with customers and Mick was in the storeroom. She debated for a moment before approaching him. Did she really want Mick to know so soon?
He’s going to find out eventually. Like when you’re the size of a parade float.
With no way to argue her own logic, she cleared her throat to get Mick’s attention. He’d pulled back the front of his hair with a clip so it wouldn’t fall into his face when he bent over. The urge to resurrect an old argument—he always procrastinated getting his hair cut—sat unspoken in her throat. This is not why you’re here.
“Can you do me a favor?” she asked with a smile.
He skimmed her body with eager eyes and waggled his eyebrows. His lips lifted into an almost charming curve, making her remember his rakish appeal the night they’d met. Too bad they got along as well as a pair of cats in a potato sack.
“I am at your service, Red.”
“You are a pain in the butt,” she told him, an errant smirk on her face. “But Neil’s busy. Come on.” She led him outside to the alley and popped the trunk. The stroller was in there, price tag still hanging, along with several bags.
> His eyes flitted over the store name on the bags, leaving no doubt as to what she was stockpiling for, then back to the stroller, then to Kimber. “Say it ain’t so.”
She sniffed. “Thanks a lot. Can you take the heavy stuff up?” She reached for one of the lighter bags.
He stopped her hand. “I’ll take it all up. You rest.”
“I’m pregnant, not sick.” Fortunately, that was true. The dreaded morning sickness hadn’t come. Yet, anyway. Maybe she’d be lucky enough to avoid it altogether.
Mick had the supplies in her house in three trips. With the last haul, he collapsed on the sofa to catch his breath. “Where are you going to put a baby in this place?”
She followed his eyes around her tiny loft. If only her apartment had been the size of the store downstairs. It wasn’t. Over three-quarters of the building’s upstairs was being leased out for use as storage, Kimber’s apartment making up the diminutive difference.
“He’ll fit.”
“It’s a boy?” Mick’s eyes twinkled.
She shook her head, perplexed by everyone’s über-happy reaction to her unplanned surprise. She expected to argue and explain herself. Could be her age helping with the free pass. She was thirty-two, not sixteen. “Too early to tell.”
He nodded. “Need help putting anything away?”
“No thanks. I kind of want to nest.” She glanced around her apartment, her mind rearranging the room. “Or something.”
Mick surprised her by standing and cupping her jaw in one hand. He tipped her chin. “This guy. Is he going to be around?”
She shrugged. She assumed Landon would be around, but in actuality had no idea. After the intense sex the other night, he’d run away like he’d been late for dinner with the president of the United States. They were supposed to talk that night, but she hadn’t wanted to wait around for him to pull himself together. And he’d been obviously frazzled. She’d left a note telling him she’d be busy the next few days, and that they’d talk soon. She hadn’t expected to go to see her mother until she’d woken the next morning needing to talk to someone. Someone who wasn’t her baby’s father.
The Millionaire Affair (Love in the Balance) Page 19
