Practice Makes Pregnant. Lois Dyer Faye
just full of surprises, aren’t you, Allison,” he said softly.
She looked genuinely confused. She should have stayed in Hollywood and become an actress, he thought, furious. She’s giving an Academy-Award-winning performance.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“No?” Jorge knew that he’d just discovered why Allison hadn’t contacted him. Her parents were rich and famous while he was the son of a blue-collar worker. Although he’d become a powerful man in Manhattan, his comfortable wealth and position were self-made, while Allison had been born into wealth in a talented, famous family. He’d encountered social snobbery before, but it hadn’t occurred to him that prejudice was a possibility with Allison.
“Jorge, I know that our night together was a one-night aberration for you.”
He blinked slowly, trying to follow her reasoning. “An aberration?”
“Of course. I read the newspaper society columns on occasion. I’m well aware that I’m not the sort of woman you normally date.”
“Really?” He looked her swiftly up and down and shook his head, baffled.
She pushed nervous fingers through her hair and tucked it behind her ear before clasping her hands tightly together at her waist. “I know that I shouldn’t have left the room that morning without saying goodbye. I certainly understand that you expected to hear from me, and that you’re no doubt curious as to why I failed to contact you, but you needn’t worry. I don’t plan to pursue you.”
“You don’t?” Why the hell not?
“No. Let me assure you that I don’t expect anything further from you.”
Jorge drew a deep breath and forced his fingers to unclench. “What the hell are you talking about?” he said through his teeth, struggling to control the urge to grab her and shake her until her cool reserve shattered and the laughing, open woman he’d met on the terrace emerged.
“I want you to know that I understand our worlds are very different. That’s why I didn’t get in touch after…” She paused, her gaze chasing away from his before she drew a deep breath, lifted her chin and looked directly at him once more. “After we spent the night together. And why I didn’t stay around that morning to discuss it.”
Before Jorge could respond, the intercom on her desk buzzed. She tapped the button on her phone, and a disembodied voice spoke.
“Eloise asked me to remind you that they’re waiting for you in the conference room, Allison. The meeting with the city budget people, remember?”
“Thank you, Leah. Please tell her that I’m on my way.”
She flicked off the intercom, glancing at Jorge as she bent to open a drawer and extract a file. “I’m sorry, Jorge, but I have to go to this meeting.” She tucked the file under one arm, picked up a pen and rounded the desk to walk toward him. “Thank you for dropping by,” she said politely, holding out her hand. “It was nice to see you.”
Jorge took her hand, the soft touch of her skin against his creating an instant vision of all of her, naked, pressed against the length of him. Under him. Holding her gaze with his, he lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her warm palm, lingering when her eyes widened.
She froze, then tugged on her hand until he reluctantly released her.
“I, um…” she paused, cleared her throat before continuing. “Have a nice day.”
He smiled. She was clearly flustered, her cool reserve in tatters from the touch of his lips against her palm. He reached past her, his arm brushing her sleeve, and pulled open the door. He didn’t miss the slight, startled jerk of her body as they touched, and though it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough, he decided to let her flee. This time.
“You too, Allison.” Her wide gaze met his, questioning. “Have a good day.”
“Oh. Yes. I will. Goodbye.” She turned, hurrying out of the office and down the hall away from him.
It’s not goodbye, sweetheart, not by a long shot. He watched her slim back, the skirt of her suit reaching a decorous two inches below her knees. It should be illegal to cover up those legs. The memory of kissing the backs of her knees before his lips moved higher haunted him, and was just as vivid now as it had been the day after that long, unforgettable night. He watched her until she disappeared through a door at the end of the hall. Then he turned and left the office complex, frustrated, impatient and so preoccupied with analyzing their conversation during those few moments in Allison’s office that he didn’t respond when Leah said goodbye.
Allison couldn’t focus on the meeting.
She kept seeing Jorge, his polite words the complete opposite of the heat and anger churning in his dark eyes. Unsure of him and terrified that he’d somehow learned, or would learn, about her pregnancy, she’d drawn her customary cloak of cool reserve around her like a defense shield and taken refuge behind it.
Why had he come to her office?
How had he found her?
Why had he bothered to do either?
The questions had baffled her until she realized it was likely she was the first woman who hadn’t pursued him after spending the night in his bed. When she assumed that his visit to her was quite possibly generated by curiosity, she’d tried to reassure him that she accepted theirs was a one-night-only event.
Strangely enough, he hadn’t seemed relieved. In fact, he looked downright furious. And he’d seemed angry when he recognized her parents in the photos on the office wall.
In fact, now that she was less rattled and more able to sanely consider their whole conversation, he’d seemed angry the entire time, although his words were polite enough.
She rubbed her right temple where a headache was growing steadily stronger.
“What do you think, Allison?”
Yanked back to the present, Allison focused on a line chart propped on the easel standing at the far end of the long table. The accountant was pointing to the third column and looking at her expectantly.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that. Could you go over it again, please?”
The accountant barely managed to conceal his annoyance, but he moved to the first column and began to repeat his explanation.
Allison determinedly focused on his words, refusing to let Jorge, the baby and what she was going to do about both of those impossible subjects, distract her again.
Later that night, despite an exhausting day that required working late to complete legal research, Jorge lay awake, his hands stacked beneath his head, staring at the ceiling above his rumpled bed.
The scene with Allison kept playing over and over in his mind. The intuition that made him so formidable in the courtroom was telling him that something about their conversation wasn’t quite right, but he couldn’t put his finger on exactly what was wrong.
It could simply be that the laughing Allison in the black lace evening gown seemed to be the complete opposite of the sober Allison in the conservative suit. He wondered briefly if there was any likelihood that she might have a twin, but quickly discounted the possibility. His body recognized hers; she smelled the same; she felt the same when he took her hand in his. No, the passionate woman in his bed that night and the wary, reserved woman he’d seen today were definitely the same woman.
But why had this Allison felt the need to hide the other Allison? What had caused the wariness and fear in her amber eyes?
Angry though she’d made him, he was determined to find answers to his questions.
She may not expect anything from me, he thought grimly, but I damn sure expect something from her.
He knew part of what he wanted from her was another night in her bed. If there was anything else