Mistresses: The Consequences Of Desire. Оливия Гейтс
Ella turned, to find Coop watching her from the opposite side of the cab as it crawled down Camden High Road. After persuading Ruby that she was woman enough to handle a private chat with her baby’s father, she’d been careful to seat herself as far away as possible from him. But the tentative enquiry and the flicker of concern knocked her off balance again.
‘Yes, everything’s good.’
‘I just wondered because...’ he paused to clear his throat, looking more uncomfortable than she’d ever seen him ‘...I was kind of rough with you. In your apartment. You know, before you told me.’
She blinked, puzzled. He hadn’t been rough, not until after he’d heard the news and then only verbally. But then it dawned on her what he was referring to. Their frantic lovemaking against the wall. The blush climbed into her cheeks and heat pulsed in her sex at the visceral memory. While a matching, much more dangerous warmth tugged under her breastbone.
‘Oh, no, everything’s fine, really. Sex isn’t a problem in pregnancy—as long as we don’t start breaking furniture it should be okay.’ The blush launched up to her hairline as it occurred to her what she had implied. ‘Not that we’re likely to be...well, you know.’
The sensual smile was even more unsettling. ‘Yeah, I get it.’ He tapped his fingers against his knee. ‘Listen, I owe you another apology.’
She struggled not to be seduced by the smouldering look he appeared to be sending her, which she decided had to be an optical illusion. After their argument yesterday, he wasn’t likely to jump her again. And she definitely did not plan to jump him.
‘What for?’ she said, unable to deny the tiny trickle of hope at his conciliatory tone. The less acrimony between them, the more chance they had of making this talk as painless as possible.
‘For losing my temper. For freaking out when you told me...’ his gaze dipped pointedly to her belly ‘...about your condition. For making out like this was all your fault.’
Relief was sharp and sweet at the heartfelt words. ‘So you don’t believe I got pregnant to set you up any more?’
He had the grace to look embarrassed. ‘Not once I’d examined the facts. I figure opening that first condom packet with my teeth probably wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done.’ His gaze fixed on her. ‘And after what happened yesterday, I’m guessing even if you had told me the truth about being on the pill, I would have risked it. Things had got pretty hot by then already.’
The muscles of her thighs melted as the pesky hum of reaction shimmered down to her core.
‘I appreciate your honesty.’ She nodded, accepting his apology with deliberate formality, while crossing her legs in an attempt to ease the ache in her sex.
Not going there. Remember?
‘I owe you an apology, too.’ She heaved a sigh, knowing she was hardly blameless in the misunderstandings that had arisen between them.
‘Yeah?’ He arched a questioning brow.
‘I should have corrected you...’ The blush fired up her neck as his lips quirked, the sensual knowledge in his smile not doing a thing to cool the hot spot between her thighs. ‘But I wasn’t really paying a lot of attention to the conversation at that point.’
‘You and me both.’ The low comment was husky with intimacy.
She cleared her throat. Hormones behave. Now. ‘But to be honest, I really didn’t think it would make any difference because...’ She hesitated. ‘I’ve had some fertility issues. Believe me, the chances of me getting pregnant were extremely slim.’
He frowned. ‘How slim?’
‘Well, if my doctor’s reaction is anything to go by when she confirmed the pregnancy, I think we might be talking lottery-winning odds.’
‘Damn. Seriously?’
She nodded, smiling at his reaction. He sounded more stunned than pleased, but it still felt good to share such an important moment in their child’s life with him.
‘When did you find out?’ he asked, and her smile faded.
Blast.
‘Um...’ She glanced out of the window as the pristine new Eurostar terminal at St Pancras Station inched by.
‘You know, that you were knocked up?’ he prompted, obviously thinking she hadn’t understood the question.
She studied the station’s redbrick Victorian grandeur as they turned onto Euston road, desperate to avoid his unsettling gaze and the equally unsettling question. He’d been honest with her, and she knew she owed him the same courtesy, but would telling him the truth break this momentary truce? Obviously, she should have contacted him weeks ago, and she hadn’t. If only she hadn’t been such a coward.
‘What’s the deal, Ella?’ he probed, already sounding suspicious. ‘How long have you known about this?’
She sighed. ‘Four weeks.’
She tensed at the muffled curse as the cab stopped outside the station hotel.
‘Great.’ He didn’t say another word, just paid the cabbie and ushered her into the Renaissance’s grand lobby area.
Every time she’d passed the historic hotel since its renovation a few years ago, she’d wondered what it looked like inside. But she barely registered the lavish vaulted ceiling or the plush interior design as his palm settled on the small of her back, and he directed her to the elevators.
His suite on the third floor had a spiral wrought-iron staircase that curved onto a second level, and original Gothic arched windows that looked down onto the station concourse. But as he poured out the bottle of sparkling mineral water she’d requested into a glass filled with ice it wasn’t the hotel’s palatial elegance she found intimidating.
‘Okay, so now I want to know—why the delay?’ He helped himself to a cola from the room’s bar. ‘Because I’ve got to tell you, I’m not feeling real happy about the fact that you’ve known about this kid for a month and you didn’t get in touch.’
She’d been expecting the question ever since they’d arrived. And had prepared an answer. But she paused to take a hasty gulp of the icy, effervescent water.
She didn’t want to tell him how she’d initially panicked about his reaction. Because then she’d have to tell him about Randall, and the child she’d lost. And she didn’t see how that would serve any purpose now. Except to make her look bad. And she looked bad enough already.
‘Stop stalling, Ella,’ he murmured, watching her over the rim of his glass. And she had the disconcerting thought again that he seemed to be able to read her a lot easier than she was able to read him.
‘All right,’ she huffed, perching on a bar stool. ‘If you must know, I did an internet search to get your details, so I could contact you.’ This wasn’t lying, she justified, it was simply failing to tell the whole truth. ‘And, well...’ Okay, maybe this part of the truth made her seem a little pathetic. But pathetic she could live with.
‘And...?’ he prompted, as if he didn’t already know what she was going to say.
‘I thought you were a freelance boat captain who lived in a one-room beach shack. I wasn’t expecting to discover your name mentioned as one of the top young entrepreneurs in the Caribbean. It was disconcerting.’
He sent her an unapologetic smile.
What was so funny?
‘And totally unexpected,’ she added. ‘I needed time to adjust to that before contacting you. So I waited, probably a bit longer than I should have.’
‘A bit?’ The grin spread as he propped himself on the bar stool next to her and nudged her knee with his. Crowding her personal space. ‘Four weeks is an awful lot of adjustment time, don’t