What the hell, I thought. It might be fun to have a casual celebration, dip my feet into her environment.
As Kaley ordered, I searched her tiny kitchen for wine glasses. To my brief dismay and lingering amusement, the only glassware she had in her cupboard were mason jars.
I brought a close-to-matching pair back into the front room and set them on the round, cheap table with a flourish, filling them with the lemonade as if it were the finest champagne, earning an appreciative giggle from her.
“I think you could make anything look classy,” she said with a smile as she took her flowers to the kitchen. “Even mason jars.”
I followed her to the kitchen, wrapping my arms around her waist from behind as she filled a vase with water and arranged the roses inside it.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you missed me,” she teased.
“You caught me,” I admitted, artfully deflecting the truth. “I was dying of sex deprivation on the road. If I don’t get an immediate transfusion, I might not make it till morning!”
Her laughter was like music filling the small apartment, and I nuzzled her neck. She smelled perfect.
Kaley moved to set the roses in the center of the table, and I followed, feeling a bit foolish but unable to find a reason to care. She turned on the stereo, releasing a stream of old, crooning notes into the atmosphere. Her eyes were smoldering over her impish grin, and she tossed her hair over one shoulder.
“Dance with me,” she ordered in a sultry tone.
“With pleasure.”
Sweeping her into my arms, I guided her around the room. She moved like a pro, taking my every lead and cue, swaying in her utterly feminine way. It reminded me of something I saw long ago, some romantic scene from a movie that stuck with me long after I had forgotten the plot and the title.
I kept telling myself that the heady wave of pleasure and delight was purely the result of the positive test; persuasive, as always, I managed to believe it. But the dingy little apartment faded away as we danced, leaving only the smooth music, her lithe body, and her soft, warm expressions in my perception.
The knock at the door barely managed to break through the haze.
“Pizza’s here,” she murmured against my lips.
I don’t know how much I tipped the man, but I know he paled and tried to argue before I shut the door in his face.
I carried the box like the finest silver tray to the table, served a massive slice to each of us, and sat across from her. Kaley’s face was framed on one side by roses, on the other by the luscious brown curls. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. Our child would be absolutely gorgeous.
“To our baby,” I toasted.
“To your renewed image,” she replied.
We ate and drank, giddy with glee, and conversation flowed like water. Bits of myself, past and present, began to slip out of my mouth to her ears. I told her of my childhood pony, and she told me of her first kitten; both had been named Snowy, a coincidence which seemed more meaningful than it probably was. It wasn’t the first coincidence, though, or the most striking.
While gazing into her eyes, I finally identified where I had seen that particular color combination before.
“Have you ever visited the Mediterranean Sea?” I asked her.
“Oh, yes. My parents took me to Greece twice when I was growing up to visit my mother’s family, and I went back once after college. I adore it. It’s so blue and warm…it’s like paradise.
“Greece itself is…oh, it’s glorious. You can feel the ancient vibrations in your feet whenever you stray off the beaten path. You can almost see the history. Walking through hills and pastures, you could swear you were within reach of the gods themselves.”
Her gaze softened as she spoke, a dreamy look settling over her expression.
“It’s my favorite vacation spot,” I told her with a smile. “My mother was always enchanted by Rome, and I spent many summers there as a child. We did travel to some other places around there, but Italy held her heart. My favorite place in the world was this little tide pool in a tiny bay off the coast of Sicily. The rocks were round, deep brown and gold, and the sea was so clear it perfectly reflected the bluest sky. I could spend hours staring down into that pool. Your eyes take me back there.”
She blushed a deep crimson, making my heart flutter. Our plates were nearly empty; the last of our meal had been left neglected for some time. I held out my hand to her, and she took it. Pulling her close, I kissed her deeply.
Practice, I told myself. Practice for a lifetime of pretending.
But my blood burned and my heart thundered, and as she led me down the hall with gentle tugs and fierce kisses, I slipped into a passionate haze beyond reason or rationality, beyond the game we were ostensibly playing. She quivered under my touch, gasped as I disrobed her.
The animal in me wanted to take her, claim her as my own. The rest of me was too far gone to argue. The instant her soft, round breast fell into my waiting palm, I was lost to her. I tipped her back onto the bed as she loosened my tie and flung it away, her quick fingers unbuttoning my shirt and pushing it off before tugging helplessly at my belt.
“Shh,” I told her, a finger to her lips. “Lie back, relax. Let me taste you.”
Her eyes darkened as she settled back against the pillows, glittering like that Sicilian pool, inviting me to dive in. Dive I did, into her sweet red lips, down her soft, ivory throat, lingering at her heaving breasts until she whimpered.
Moving down her milk-white belly, I kissed her womb, thanking it directly for the part it played in my happiness, before sinking between her soft, firm thighs to kiss her once more.
I had dreamed of tasting her most intimate place for weeks; since it wasn’t strictly baby-making, I had resisted. Tonight, though, the lines were blurred, the intentions were hazy, and I simply enacted my desires. Her rich, musky nectar flowed over my tongue as she quivered around me, her thighs tightening over my ears as she arched into me and cried out my name.
I couldn’t hold myself back any longer. I took her, slowly at first, quickly tumbling over into ancient carnal rhythms, relishing every inch of her soft, vibrant skin, every pulse of her velvety sheath. Clawing and kissing, biting and holding, we tumbled over the passionate abyss as one until, spent, I lay quaking in her arms.
Gazing into her warm, liquid eyes, I knew I should go. I was dangerously close to falling over the edge into something beyond a friendly entanglement.
I couldn’t risk that. It was the one thing in the world I couldn’t afford. But then she wrapped her arms languidly around my neck and pressed her lips to my cheek.
“Stay,” she murmured.
I kissed her and rolled aside, cradling her in my arms. The feel of her skin on mine bound me to her bed, just as her quiet plea bound me to her heart.
With her pressed against my chest, sleep overtook me like a thief in the night, stealing the last of my defenses.
Chapter 12
Kaley
I awoke with a smile, which was rare. Jonathan was still wrapped around me, a more comforting presence now than he had been the first time. He stirred, and I turned to him, my heart warming as a sleepy smile spread over his pillow-wrinkled face.
“G’morning,” he mumbled.
“Good morning,” I murmured back, kissing him as I rolled onto my back. His hand rested on my belly, sending a shiver of remembered realization through me. I was pregnant.
“I wish I’d been here,” he sighed into my hair. “When you found out…”
“You’re here now,” I pointed out. “I have a basket full of tests. Wait here.”
I kissed him again, excited to reenact the wondrous moment with him. Sliding out of bed, I hurried to the bathroom. With a wicked grin, I decided to be excessive and take them all at once, one right after the other. I lined them up on the bathroom counter and sashayed out, calling to him.
“Three minutes!” I sang.
He set a timer on his watch, then saunte
red over to me, his gloriously masculine body glowing in the morning light streaming through the window. I met him halfway, pressing my body to his, opening my lips for his lazily demanding tongue. I could spend every morning breathing him in, for the rest of my life, I realized.
I didn’t have time to examine that thought before his watch began to beep.
“It’s time,” he grinned, his eyes igniting with an excitement I had never seen before.
Hand in hand, we hurried to the bathroom, laughing like children. Together, we looked down at the four tests lined up on the counter. My heart stopped, and he dropped my hand.
“That doesn’t look right,” he said with a frown, fishing a box out of the trash. He read the instructions, then tossed the box aside in disgust. “They’re all negative.”
“I…I don’t know what happened,” I gasped. “Yesterday, it was positive…”
“So you said,” he said icily.
“I don’t understand.” I fought back tears, silently begging him to understand. “It must have been a false positive…”
“Of course.” His tone was flat and cool, a bucket of ice water over my heart.
He turned and left the room to collect his clothes. I fought the lump in my throat while staring in disbelief at the offending tests. By the time I had recovered myself, he was fully dressed and checking his phone.
“I have to leave,” he told me shortly. “I’ll be out of the country for a while.”
“Oh,” I said, flustered and suddenly self-conscious about my nakedness. “Do…do you want to try again when you get back?”
He looked at me, his face an unreadable mask of ice. Shame blossomed on my cheeks and burned my eyes, confusing me.
“Maybe,” he said, noncommittally.
He left without another word or a backwards glance, without a hint of the affection he had shown me the night before. As the door closed with a resounding thud, I slid to the floor in my dingy apartment and sobbed.
As the thundering ache slowly subsided, I realized the terrible truth; in spite of all of my defenses and intentions, I had fallen for him. Now, a single, stupid false positive had stripped even the faintest chance I had of earning his love in return. I spent that Saturday drowning in my tears.
Chapter 13
Kaley
“Are you all right?” Imogen asked me.
It had been nearly three weeks since that terrible morning, and I hadn’t heard from Jonathan even once in all that time.
“I’m fine,” I mumbled.
“You don’t look fine,” Imogen said suspiciously, narrowing her eyes at me. “You haven’t looked fine in weeks. Did something happen? You know you can tell me.”
No, I really can’t, I thought. I offered her my best impression of a bright smile. “Nothing important. I’m fine, really.”
“No, you really aren’t.” Imogen crossed her arms and sat her skinny rear right in the center of my desk. “Who hurt you?”
“Myself,” I sighed. “I don’t…I don’t want to get into the details, Im. I had this…I guess you could call it a casual thing. With this guy. We set strict boundaries…sort of…there weren’t supposed to be any feelings involved.”
“Ooh, a sex buddy! God, I haven’t done that since college. So, what happened—did he fall head over heels and start texting you at all hours? Is that why you look like you haven’t slept?”
I managed a wry smile.
“Reverse that,” I told her. “Apart from the whole texting at all hours thing; I don’t do that. I think about it sometimes, but…anyway. No, I…I started having feelings for him, and then I sort of jumped the gun on something, and I screwed everything up. And now he’s gone, and he won’t talk to me, and it’s my own fault for getting attached in the first place.”
She made a sympathetic noise and patted my hand. “His loss, honey. I don’t know who this guy is, but I bet you’re too good for him, anyway.”
I disagreed, but I appreciated her words.
“Tell you what,” she said, sliding off my desk with a bounce. “Let’s go out tonight. It’s Friday; we’re young, hot, and single—let’s go hit up a club or something. My mother always said the best way to get over one guy is to get under a different one.” She said it with a wicked grin, and I almost laughed.
“Thanks,” I said sincerely. “But that seems like a little much for me right now. I’ve had this headache that won’t quit, and I don’t think getting felt up by a club full of drunk guys is going to make it better.”
“Fair,” she sighed. “All right, how about this. Let me take you to dinner with a few friends of mine. Not a blind date, just a few people getting together over nachos and beer. What do you say?”
She really wasn’t going to let this go, I realized.
“All right,” I said. “Where and when?”
“I’ll let you know in a couple hours; just let me rally the troops,” she said with a grin. “You’ll feel so much better, Kaley—trust me. This is what you need.”
She ran off to her own desk and began texting away on her phone.
No, I thought. What I need is for Jonathan to talk to me. I was tired of feeling like a criminal over a stupid chemical mistake.
Within a few hours the plans were set, and after work I followed Imogen to the Mexican place near our building.
Four people were waiting for us there; one girl I vaguely recognized from one of Imogen’s “parties”, selling leggings or candles or something. As her friend, I accepted her invitations to these things. As a broke chick with no space for clutter and little interest in leggings, I rarely bought anything. Imogen introduced her as Jenna, and the tall brunette shook my hand with a body-builder grip.
“And this is Dave, Jenna’s husband. These two handsome creatures are Brody and Aiden.” Imogen gestured to the other two men, and I shook their hands warily.
Brody was a stocky, bearded man who wore his hair in a bun and was dressed in flannel. Aiden was impeccably groomed, down to his threaded eyebrows and manicured nails. His black hair flopped over his face in two points like a ‘90s movie heartthrob, and his nose seemed to be permanently upturned. I offered them both weak smiles as we sat.
Imogen ordered for the table, then looked around at the group.
“Well, this is fun, right? Aiden, Kaley works with me at AllGood, in toy development!”
“Oh,” Aiden sneered. “So are you responsible for those god-awful talking birds? My niece has four of them, and I swear to God, they are plotting to take over the house.”
“Those were, um…before my time,” I said with a wince.
“What toys have you come up with?” Brody asked excitedly. In spite of the beard, he reminded me of a twelve-year-old.
“Mostly educational toys,” I offered, feeling apologetic for some reason. “The singing world map floor mat was my biggest hit so far.”
“Oh! I love those! I work at the children’s museum; we just put one in a couple months ago! The kids go nuts over it.”
“Just the kids?” Imogen asked teasingly.
“Well…” Brody shrugged with a sheepish grin.
The mental image of this lumberjack leaping around from Panama to Guam amused me enough to relax, and the food arrived quickly after that. A massive platter of nachos, six plates, and six yellow beers was set down in front of us. I wasn’t much of a beer drinker to begin with, and pale beers turned my stomach on a good day.
I took a sip to be polite and instantly regretted it. I quickly swamped the taste in a layer of cheese and chips, then breathed a sigh of relief. They weren’t the worst people to spend an evening with, and Imogen was right; I did end up having a really good time. I knew she had brought the single guys along for me to look over; that was clear by the occasional questioning looks she shot me, but I wasn’t interested.
I found Aiden to be insufferable in every imaginable way, and Brody alternated between reminding me of a pre-adolescent boy and a Labrador puppy. Still, they kept me distracted for a few hours, and
I was feeling better about life by the time I slid into my car to drive home.
Then suddenly, I felt a whole lot worse. Halfway home, my stomach turned over on me, forcing me to pull to the side of the road. Several minutes later, I called Imogen.
“What’s up? Did you forget something at the restaurant?”
“No… Did anyone else get sick from the nachos?” I asked.
“Sick? Oh my God, did you throw up? I’m so sorry. I feel fine, and…Aiden, did the nachos upset your stomach? No, we’re both fine. I can text the others if you like.”
“No, don’t do that,” I said quickly. “It’s probably just me. Thanks, Im.”
“Okay…feel better, hon. Aiden, stop it, I’m on the phone…!” She hung up under a stream of giggles, and I rolled my eyes.
It was astounding to me how level-headed Imogen could turn into a giddy schoolgirl under the influence of male attention. Groaning and nauseated, I got back in my car. I had just turned the key in the ignition when a thought struck.
“No,” I said to myself firmly. “No, don’t even go there. You’re not; you weren’t last time, and besides, you aren’t even late.” But I wasn’t entirely sure of that last part.
I pulled out the little day planner I kept in my purse, flipping back through the weeks until I found the last string of little red hearts in the corner of several sequential days. I counted the weeks from the first heart to the current date, then frowned. It hadn’t been that long, had it?
I crinkled my brow in concentration, trying to remember. I had been relieved because Jonathan had just left on his business trip, which meant I wouldn’t have to have that awkward conversation. Not a drop since. Which meant…
“Five weeks,” I breathed. “I’m a week late, and throwing up perfectly good nachos. Crap.”
In a sudden panic, I changed my route to hit the store before going home. I spent about half a second trying to decide between brands before just loading every last pregnancy test they had on the shelves into my cart and racing to the checkout. I would take one tonight, I decided, and the rest in the morning. I told myself it would be negative.
Baby, ASAP - A Billionaire Buys a Baby Romance (Babies for the Billionaire Book 3) Page 9
