Road to Seduction (Kimani Romance)

by Christopher, Ann

  Nor did she doubt that he wanted to marry her, or that he’d be a faithful husband. Eric didn’t do things halfway and he wouldn’t promise anything he couldn’t deliver. Yeah, she’d have to fend off the constant onslaught of hoochies trying to hit on him if she married him, but the thought, strangely, didn’t bother her.

  Eric was too handsome, too special, too incredible for other women not to notice. But he loved Isabella and, if she married him—which she wouldn’t, she would make him so happy there’d never be an opening for another woman to creep through. Isabella would make sure of it.

  But…children of his own.

  Eric wanted them. How many kids had she seen him cuddle and play with over the years? Baby Andy, all her nieces and nephews and countless other kids—Eric welcomed them all, loved them all.

  He deserved his own family and that was the one thing she could never give him. And regardless of how much she loved him and how lonely she’d be without him, she could not doom him to life without holding his own child in his arms. She just couldn’t do it.

  Zeus, who’d been splashing several feet out and yapping at a few seagulls who were foolish enough to fly low overhead, came back, shook his coat dry and sat at her feet. As always when she was feeling bad, he studied her with those soulful brown eyes, looking concerned.

  Emotions choked her throat and pooled in her eyes, threatening to bubble over in a sob because this one silly dog would soon be all she had left and was the closest thing she’d ever have to a child of her own.

  “Isabella?”

  Startled, she swiped her eyes and turned to see the poorly-timed arrival of the one person who could make this night worse. Alphonso Grant, her college love approached with a hesitant half smile on his face.

  Her first surprised thoughts were that he’d changed, and not for the better. He was unpleasantly plump now. His fair skin had that sunny flush that everyone acquired when they visited Florida, but the dimples that framed his mouth when she last saw him all those years ago had turned to grooves.

  Maybe it was catty of her to notice, but his dark hair had thinned through the temples and would soon be a full-fledged bald spot. He’d shaved his mustache and she had the uncharitable thought that his thin upper lip needed it back, but, really, she’d long stopped caring enough about him to think any thoughts about him, charitable or otherwise.

  “Al.” Years of Mama Jo’s politeness training kicked in and Isabella dredged up a welcoming smile when what she really wanted to do was ask him to leave her alone. “How are you? Terri didn’t mention that you’d be here.”

  He hesitated and then leaned in to brush her cheek with his dry lips. She wasn’t quite sure what the protocol was for greeting first loves—somewhere between a handshake and a hug, she supposed—but this seemed appropriate. He gave her the full smile and it tugged at something deep inside her, something long-buried and nostalgic, but mostly she felt surprise that she’d ever thought this man was so handsome. Compared to Eric’s prince, Al was definitely the frog.

  “We got a cheap last-minute flight, so here we are.”

  “We?” she asked out of faint curiosity. “Are you married?”

  “Yeah.” At the mere mention of his wife, he began to glow. This, too, tugged at Isabella’s heart, but not the way she’d thought it would years ago when he left her, heartbroken and alone, to wonder why he didn’t love her. “We live in Boston now. I’m a day trader. She’s a dermatologist.”

  “That’s wonderful,” she said, meaning it.

  “And you’re with Eric, huh?” Something in his expression tightened, grew darker. “I knew that would happen sooner or later.”

  There was no way she’d discuss Eric with him. “I should get back.”

  “Izzy.” Urgent now, he put a restraining hand on her arm even though she hadn’t yet moved away. His voice dropped, becoming choked and husky. “I think about…everything, and—”

  “Don’t.” Alarmed, she backed away because she absolutely could not deal with this now.

  “—I think about it a lot and I want you to know that I’m sorry.”

  Isabella gaped at him, sudden anger almost blinding her, and let him have it the way she should have back then. Then, she snapped.

  “Sorry? Sorry? Well. How nice. Doesn’t that just make everything okay after all these years? You decide you’re sorry so now everything’s magically supposed to be right with the world? Is that it?” Her voice was low and deep, wounded.

  All the old anger rose up, making her cheeks hot and her vision blurry. There’d been times, over the years, when she’d imagined this scene, pictured herself slapping him, spitting on him or sweetly telling him to go to hell when he begged her for a second chance. The thought of him suffering and feeling one-millionth as bad as she’d felt had gotten her through many long nights of crying all those years ago.

  “I’m sorry,” he said again.

  “You hurt me,” she whispered. “Do you get that? Do you have any idea how long it took me to recover from what you did to me? You weren’t there for me. You didn’t support me. I couldn’t lean on you for one damn thing. Do you even care that you said you loved me and then abandoned me?”

  “Yes, I care. I’m ashamed of myself. Please forgive me, Izzy.” He passed a hand over his wet eyes and she was surprised to see it tremble. “I need you to forgive me.”

  No, she wanted to snarl. I don’t forgive you. I can’t have children practically because of you. I’ll never forgive you.

  But then she thought: what was the point? He was sorry, she was sorry, and it was over. Life went on and she couldn’t waste any more time being bitter. Nor would she introduce her infertility into this already painful discussion. Al didn’t know and he felt bad enough as it was. And she couldn’t handle everything else.

  “It’s okay.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, but she didn’t want to take them back. Surprise, surprise. Her sudden anger was waning, as fleeting as a tropical summer storm now that she’d had the chance to vent. This was good, she thought. This was right. This was unfinished business from her old life that she needed to address. She could do this. “Really. It’s okay. I just needed to say my piece, and I needed to hear you apologize and mean it.”

  A choked sound—half laugh, half sob—rose up out of Al and he grabbed her hand. “Thank you.” She resisted the urge to pull away even though she felt lighter and better. “Thank you.”

  This wasn’t so bad, really. They’d been close once and, although they’d never be close again, she didn’t want to hate him or even feel nothing for him. All of her intimate conversations with her mother had led to this.

  “I mean it,” she said. “I wish you and your wife the best—”

  He started glowing again, brighter this time. “You’re not going to believe this, Izzy, but—”

  A sickening pit opened up in the depths of her belly because she somehow knew what was coming: agony of the worst kind. The one thing she couldn’t deal with—not now, not with this man, not with the yawning emptiness inside her that would never be filled with Eric’s child.

  “No,” she said, feeling dizzy.

  There was a limit to how much she could absorb…how much she could forgive…how much Al should expect of her. What he was going to say would push her well past that limit, possibly all the way into insanity.

  No, no, no. Please, God, no.

  Snatching her hand free, she shook her head to stop him but it was too late because the words were already coming and her ears were already listening.

  “—Lana’s pregnant. We’re going to have a little girl next month.”

  “Oh, my God.”

  The unstoppable words spewed from her mouth in an awful screech and she struggled to keep her legs under her and hang on to Zeus’s leash. For one awful second her heartsickness crossed over into light-headedness and she bent at the waist, certain she would faint.

  She had a distant awareness of Al’s cry of alarm and his hands wr
apping around her, holding her up. And then there was a shout from a new voice followed by a splash.

  Her dimmed vision cleared enough for Eric, looking wild eyed and frantic, to come sprinting into view. She had the nonsensical thought that he must really be upset to run through the waves and get sand and salt water on his expensive shoes and pants because Eric hated messes, especially on his clothes.

  “What did you do to her, you son of a bitch?” Sneering and growling, Eric shoved Al out of the way, looking as though he’d like nothing better than to dismember the smaller man with his hands and teeth.

  “I didn’t do anything.” Al’s jaw flapped helplessly. “We were talking—”

  But Eric had already dismissed Al and pulled Isabella into his arms with surprising tenderness. “Izzy. Are you okay, Sunshine? What happened?”

  Isabella was feeling stronger now, and with the strength came embarrassment. What just happened here? She was making a scene because Al could have children and she couldn’t? What was wrong with her? And now Al would go back to the reception and tell everyone what’d happened, and soon all her friends would think she was cracking up. Maybe she was cracking up. But they didn’t need to know that.

  “I’m okay.” Pulling free of Eric’s resisting arms, she swiped at her eyes and was dismayed to discover that her cheeks were wet. She hastily blotted her face with her palms. “I just…I’m a little tired—we’ve had a long trip—and I have…you know, a migraine. But I’m fine. Please don’t make a scene, okay? I just need a little rest.”

  Al nodded, looking relieved, but Eric wasn’t so easily convinced.

  “Izzy,” he began.

  “Fine,” she repeated, more firmly this time. “Why are you here?”

  Eric’s expression cooled and hardened. Closed off and locked her out. He held up his cell phone, which she’d been too upset to notice until now. “The jet’s coming for us in about an hour. We need to get to the airport if we want to make it back for Andy’s baptism in the morning.”

  A baptism. Isabella looked skyward in desperation, praying for the strength to get through a baptism and wondering how many more pregnant women and babies God was going to send her way this weekend.

  “Yeah, okay,” she said. “Give me a minute.”

  Eric muttered something she couldn’t quite hear, although she caught the gist and shot him a glare, which he ignored. Turning to Al, she smiled and spoke with sincerity because a precious new baby was coming into the world and Al seemed to have grown into a man who would make a wonderful father.

  “I’m really happy for you and your wife. Please give her my best wishes.”

  Al leaned in to kiss her cheek and she stiffened, teetering on the edge of a full crying jag. “And you have my best.”

  “And you’re going to have my foot up your ass if you touch Izzy or make her cry again,” Eric told Al, baring his teeth in a snarling abomination of a smile.

  “Eric.” Isabella reached for his hand lest she needed to keep him from tackling Al to the ground and pummeling him to dust.

  Eric tensed and jerked free.

  Al, who should have known better than to provoke Eric at this dangerous juncture—Eric was obviously holding himself in check only by the thinnest margin—shook his head and tightened his jaw.

  “You never liked me, man. Did you?”

  “No,” Eric said flatly. “Never did, never will.”

  Al glared and lingered, as though he wanted to state his case for not being as big a jerk as Eric thought he was, but then Al’s one ounce of good sense finally kicked in and he left well enough alone.

  Muttering darkly, he turned and walked off toward the reception, and Eric focused all his considerable energy on Isabella.

  “What happened, Izzy? What’d he say to you?”

  Staring up into Eric’s worried face, hearing the husky urgency in his voice and feeling his tentative touch on her cheek, Isabella couldn’t.

  She just…couldn’t.

  There was no way she could explain things to Eric right now, pretend that she was okay when she wasn’t or even reassure him that she would soon be okay. All those things required much more effort than she could muster.

  “I…can’t.” She stepped away from his touch. “I can’t do this now.”

  “We have to do it.”

  “But not now, Eric.”

  These words got exactly the kind of negative reception she’d expected. Eric stilled except for a telltale darkening of his expression and the rhythmic pulsing in his jaw. For several endless beats he stared past her at the surf, apparently collecting himself. When he looked back at her, his voice was soft but his eyes were fierce.

  “You spend five minutes with that guy, and now I can’t touch you?”

  “Not right now, no.”

  “When?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Are you still in love with him? Is that it?”

  “No,” she cried. “God, no. Why would you think that?”

  “Because the only other thing that could’ve upset you this afternoon is me telling you I love you.” His strangled voice dropped until it was barely audible over the waves. “And I can’t stand the thought of you crying because I want to marry you.”

  The need to reassure him when he was so hurt and vulnerable was too powerful for her to ignore. “That’s not it.”

  “What is it then? I know you’re hiding things from me. Don’t deny it.”

  The long list of things she needed to explain scrolled through her brain and it was all she could do not to sink to her knees in the sand and howl like Zeus did when she put him in his crate.

  It would be a relationship-ending conversation. She knew that. Eric would look at her with new eyes and want nothing to do with her. Maybe the best thing to do would be tell him tonight on the plane and have him stop in Cincinnati so she could go straight home. He wouldn’t want to take her to the baptism after this.

  “We can talk on the plane and then you could drop me off in Cincin—”

  “No,” he said flatly, his face turning to stone. “You said you’d come to the baptism. And anyway we’ll be sharing the plane with some of my execs so we won’t have any privacy.”

  “Okay.” Tears burned the backs of Isabella’s eyes, but she would not let them fall. She was Mama Jo’s daughter and she was strong and could get through the baptism and dealing with Eric’s family and telling Eric. She had to get through it. “Can we talk tomorrow, then? After the baptism?”

  “Tomorrow? Is it that bad?”

  She couldn’t bring herself to add to the flare of panic she saw in his face, so she said nothing.

  He seemed to glean the worst. “You’re scaring me to death, Isabella.”

  “I don’t mean to.”

  They stared at each other, time suspended. Zeus played at their feet, frantically digging in the sand looking for a scurrying yellow crab. Above them, on the deck, lanterns glowed and the faint strains of music—” Unforgettable,” she thought—began.

  Finally Eric let out a long, harsh, serrated breath. “We have to go.”

  “Okay.”

  He didn’t move and in his dark eyes she saw emotions as changeable and turbulent as the crashing waves ten feet away. It hurt to see him so upset and know she’d done this to him, but she couldn’t—simply could not—tell him her deepest secrets and then spend all day tomorrow with his family pretending nothing was wrong.

  “Please.” Swallowing hard, he held out a hand. “I need to touch you.”

  Isabella hesitated, but not for long. She needed his touch and needed the illusion that their trip was still fun and they were still lovers. Even if it was just an illusion, she needed it.

  She stepped into his open arms.

  They clung to each other and she didn’t know whose need was greater or whose touch was the most desperate. All she knew was that for these last few seconds, on this beautiful beach under this exquisite sunset, she wanted to gather a little of his strength and imprint wh
at it felt like to have his love on her memory and body.

  His hands settled up under the hair at her nape, anchoring her to him while he kissed her cheeks and whispered fiercely in her ear.

  “I love you, Isabella. Love you. There’s nothing you can’t tell me. Whatever it is, I’ll understand. I promise you. Promise you.”

  Poor Eric, she thought, digging her fingers into his shoulders to keep him close and teetering between hysterical laughter and hysterical sobs. He’d never make such a futile promise if he had any idea what she needed to confess.

  Chapter 16

  Early the next morning, Eric was standing in his grandmother’s library at Heather Hill, staring out the glass doors at the pool—seeing nothing and wallowing in his miserable thoughts and fears—when a voice spoke behind him.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Andrew. Eric winced because he hadn’t heard any footsteps and it was too damned early to deal with Andrew, especially considering the horrendous night he’d had. After saying a quick goodbye to the newlyweds, he and Izzy had left the reception, sped to the airport, hopped on the Lear and shared the flight back to Columbus with a couple of WarnerBrands executives. There’d been no opportunity to talk even if he’d been able to convince Izzy to abandon her clam routine and open up about what was troubling her.

  Then, to his further dismay, she’d refused to go back to his house with him even though she always stayed there when she visited, insisting instead on spending the night at the cottage here at Heather Hill. Her obvious need to get away from him was a sickening blow to his ego from which he hadn’t recovered.

  What the hell had happened? Eric’s disoriented brain still whirled with confusion, as though he’d just stepped off one of those stupid spinning carnival rides. Ten minutes alone on the beach with Al, and Izzy had become a different person. Aloof, quiet, hurting…walled off in some dark place where Eric couldn’t reach her. Unwilling even to spend the night under the same roof with him, much less let him make love to her.

  And he, whipped punk that he was, had elected to sleep in his old bedroom here at the mansion rather than travel the five minutes to his own house and sleep in his own bed. What if Izzy needed him? he’d thought. Hah. There’d been no peep from Isabella, no whimper, no sign of her continued existence other than the warm glow of a lamp visible behind the closed shutters at the cottage. For all he knew she’d escaped to Mexico during the night.