by Judy Duarte
She couldn’t remain in the same small room with the sexy man, close enough to breathe in his woodsy scent, and only a few steps from the bed. “This isn’t going to work.”
“What isn’t?”
“Kissing. Touching. Pretending that we’re romantically involved.”
“Don’t you think people will expect us to be affectionate?”
“In public? Probably. But being affectionate when we’re behind closed doors will only make it seem real. And with a divorce on the horizon, we shouldn’t complicate things. Right?”
“Good point.”
“So you’re not going to press for more kissing or touching or...anything more?”
He held up his hand in Boy Scout fashion. “I promise.”
“Good.” She’d won that round, although she didn’t get the usual satisfaction she could expect when coming out on top of a deal. “I’m hungry. Come on. Let’s go face the troops.”
Steven followed her out of the room. When they reached the foyer, they walked side by side to the large, functional kitchen with state-of-the-art appliances and black marble counters. The warm aroma of breakfast filled the room, providing tantalizing whiffs of fresh-brewed coffee and bacon.
Two adorable toddlers sat in their high chairs, each of them with a sippy cup in hand. Callum stood beside them, placing chunks of banana on their trays, while Becky operated the griddle on the stove, flipping hotcakes.
Ellie had met Callum’s future wife a couple of times, but only at ribbon-cutting ceremonies. They really hadn’t talked very much, but Ellie found the brunette with sparkling brown eyes to be sweet and likable—nice qualities for a nurse.
“Good morning,” Steven said from the doorway.
Becky turned and blessed them both with a warm smile. “Breakfast is almost ready. Can I get you a cup of coffee, Ellie? We have orange juice, too.”
“OJ sounds good,” Ellie said. “Thank you.”
“Where’s Dillon?” Steven asked Callum.
“He cut out early. Said he had to meet with one of the suppliers in town.”
Steven strode to the cupboard, pulled out a white mug and poured his own coffee. “Ellie and I had a chance to talk a little more last night. We decided to get married at the ranch on Sunday. Nothing big or fancy. Just a small, private ceremony.”
One of the twins slapped her hand down on the tray, mashing a banana chunk in the process, and squealed with glee at the goo on her hand. Her sister grinned and smashed one of her own.
Steven laughed at the messy antics.
“Hey, bro,” Callum said, “wait until you have a toddler or two. You might not find their messes so funny.”
“I won’t have to wait long for that,” Steven said. “Ellie’s having a baby in August.”
At that, Callum’s gaze dropped to Ellie’s belly, then he cut a furrowed-brow look at Steven. “Your wedding announcement didn’t surprise me a bit, but I didn’t see that coming. Now I can see why you’re in a hurry to tie the knot.”
“What he means,” Becky said, “is that we couldn’t be happier for you two—the wedding, the baby and the whole nine yards. Welcome to the family, Ellie.”
“She’s absolutely right,” Callum said. “It’s a happy surprise.”
“If there’s anything I can do,” Becky added, “whether it’s to help you settle in at the ranch or get ready for the wedding, just let know.”
“Thanks.” Ellie’s cheeks warmed at Becky’s kindness, at her obvious acceptance. “I appreciate that.”
While the two precious toddlers sat in their high chairs, making quite the mess of their meal, the adults took their seats at the large kitchen table and ate their fill of blueberry pancakes, scrambled eggs and turkey bacon.
Becky chatted about the pleasures of pregnancy and the joys of childbirth, her words more enlightening because of her medical background. She couldn’t have been sweeter or more accepting.
Yet the more kindness the couple showed to her, the guiltier Ellie felt. She hated deceiving people who’d welcomed her into their home and family with open arms. But she had to continue to keep up the pretense.
She and Steven were in too deep to do otherwise.
* * *
Ellie had made it plain to Steven that she intended their relationship to remain platonic, although he wasn’t so sure her hormones agreed with her. His certainly didn’t.
He had no intention of breaking his promise not to push for more, but it was killing him. And so were the cold showers.
For the past couple of nights, climbing into bed alone and knowing that Ellie slept just across the hall had been a hell of a lot harder for him to handle than he’d expected. The woman grew prettier and sexier each time he laid eyes on her. And since she’d decided to work remotely, he saw her daily.
He tried to avoid her by spending more time on the jobsite or at the office, but that didn’t help. Not when he constantly envisioned her back at the ranch, wandering through his quarters, barefoot, her long hair hanging loose and glossy over her shoulders and down her back. What guy wouldn’t be distracted?
And then there was the wedding talk and all the chores. Ellie had sent out a press release two days ago, announcing their engagement and upcoming marriage without providing any details. Then she’d slipped off the property to meet her mom and Daria, who’d taken her to shop in San Antonio so they could avoid the rumor mill in Rambling Rose. Fortunately, they found a dress and ordered the flowers that afternoon.
Steven didn’t ask to be included in the shopping trips, but he insisted on taking part in the cake tasting that Picard’s Patisserie hosted at the ranch.
Picard outdid himself with the samples he set out on the table in the main kitchen. Then the short, balding baker proudly stood by as Steven, Ellie, Alma, Daria and Becky studied the miniature cakes he’d placed in front of them.
“What’s this?” Steven pointed to the most decadent sample.
“That’s the Black Forest,” Picard said. “It’s a chocolate cake with kirsch, whipped cream and topped with tart cherries.”
“And this one?” Ellie asked.
“It’s a white cake with Grand Marnier flavor and a raspberry buttercream filling.”
After a couple of bites, the ladies began to rave about Picard and his cakes, much to the delight of the French baker. Steven wondered if they’d be able to settle on a favorite. At least, until he tasted the last sample in front of him.
“Ellie.” He reached for her fork, cut into the small cake and offered her a bite. “Try this.”
She opened her mouth, and he gave her a taste. Her eyes lit up. “Oh, yes. This one. I love it.”
As she licked the frosting from her lips, Steven forgot about the almond-flavored cake with a filling that tasted like crème brûlée.
All he cared about was Ellie, and getting a sweet taste of her.
The other women quickly agreed that they’d chosen the perfect cake.
Picard happily took the order and promised to deliver it himself on Sunday morning, prior to the ceremony that afternoon.
As far as Steven knew, everything was set. They’d only invited immediate family and a few close friends, but with a few extra additions made here and there, Steven had to call the party-rental people to increase the number of chairs they’d need to deliver.
In the meantime, he’d done a little shopping of his own at his favorite Western-wear shop, picking up a black jacket and slacks as well as a fancy white shirt.
An hour ago, he’d left the office early to pick up his jacket from the tailor. He’d considered going back to work but decided to call it a day and went home instead. Ellie had been spending a lot of time in seclusion, having taken some days off from city hall, and deserved to go out to dinner for a change. So he decided to surprise her.
He entered his living quarters and, finding them q
uiet and empty, assumed Ellie was with Becky on the other side of the house. So he went to the bedroom, hung his jacket in the closet and kicked off his boots. He’d no more than stepped back into the hallway when the bathroom door opened, and Ellie walked out wrapped in a fluffy white towel.
She gasped and nearly jumped out of her skin. “Oh my gosh. Steven. You scared me.”
And she mesmerized him. Whether dressed in business attire or rocking a pair of jeans, Ellie Hernandez was a beautiful woman. But wearing only a towel? He couldn’t find words to describe her.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“That’s okay. I just didn’t expect you. I mean, this is your house.” She pointed at the open door to her room, nearly losing her grip on the towel in the process. “I forgot to bring a change of clothes into the bathroom with me...” She studied him for a moment, nearly as closely as he watched her.
“You’re making me crazy,” he said. And if she dropped the towel, he’d be toast.
She’d told him twice that she was conflicted about kissing or getting too close, even if her body language was giving him a much different spin. Only a jerk would push her now, no matter how badly he wanted to.
“It’s not that I don’t want to,” she added.
“I know. I do, too. But I get it.” The political stuff had gotten in the way.
For a moment, a sense of apprehension settled over him. Would making love hurt either of them in the long run?
How could it? They were both going into the fake marriage knowing that it had an ending date. As long as they both kept that in mind, everything would be fine.
Steven might have repeated the rules, but he wasn’t a jerk. If they were going to make love, Ellie would have to make the first move, which she apparently was reluctant to do.
He was about to retreat to his bedroom, the living area or even to the stable when she eased toward him.
Was she changing her mind about getting in too deep? He hoped to hell that’s what was happening, but he’d made her a promise. And he’d be damned if he’d break it.
She continued to close the gap between them. “This is crazy, Steven.”
Yes, it was. The tall, willowy brunette, her dark brown eyes doe-like, was making him nuts. And so was her springtime scent as it burrowed deep in his nostrils, making a memory.
“We’re not supposed to do this.”
“If it makes you feel better,” he said, “everyone already thinks we’re lovers. And we’ll be married on Sunday afternoon.”
“I know, but making love will only complicate things.”
“Maybe so.” But if she was game, he was. “Our engagement might be fake, but the chemistry between us is the real deal. I don’t know about you, but a cold shower isn’t going to help me this time.”
“Damn you, Steven.”
Her lips parted, and he cupped her jaw, his fingers extending to her neck, her hair draping over his knuckles. “Say the word, Ellie, and I’ll walk away.”
When she didn’t raise an objection, he kissed her, deeply and thoroughly, sending a rush of heat through his veins, his blood pounding in need. She swayed slightly then reached for his shoulder to keep her balance.
He didn’t feel all that steady himself, so he scooped her into his arms and carried her to his bed, where he laid her down, her long black hair splayed upon the pillow sham, her beautiful body stretched out on top of the matching comforter.
He paused for a beat, drinking in the angelic sight, until a shadow of insecurity crossed her brow.
She placed a hand on her belly and worried her bottom lip. “I’m not usually this...round.”
“Don’t say that, Ellie. Don’t even think it. You’re the prettiest, sexiest expectant mother I’ve ever seen.”
She clicked her tongue and all but rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, Steven. How many pregnant women have you seen naked?”
“Just you. And believe me, I like what I see.” He nodded at the bed where she lay. “Do you mind...?”
She rolled to the side, making room for him. And that was the only encouragement he needed. He removed his clothes. All the while, she watched him with passion-glazed eyes—as eager as he was, it seemed, to feel his skin against hers.
With a straining erection evidence of his arousal, he slowly joined her on the bed. Yet as eager as he was to make love with her, he wanted to take it slow and easy, taking his time to please her—and to ensure he didn’t do anything that might hurt the baby.
He placed a gentle hand on her belly. “I’ll be careful.”
“I know you will, but don’t worry. You won’t hurt me or the baby.”
He kissed her again—long and deep. As their bodies pressed together, their hands stroked, caressed, explored until they were both caught up in the throes of passion. His only thought, his only concern was to please her the way she was pleasing him.
His thumb skimmed across her taut nipple, and when her breath caught, he bent his head and took the sweet tip into his mouth, tonguing it, sucking it, until she gripped his shoulders, sending a rush of heat pounding through his blood.
He couldn’t seem to get enough of her. Looking. Touching. Tasting. He stroked her skin, so soft. And he studied the flecks of gold in her eyes, saw the desire brewing there. He spotted something else, too. Emotions he’d never seen, never sensed, churned in her gaze. It ought to scare the hell out of him, but it intrigued him, drew him in.
“I hope I’m not sorry about this later,” she said, yet her grip on his shoulder didn’t ease.
“You won’t be,” he said. “I’ll make sure there’s nothing to regret.”
He brushed his lips across her brow, holding back, allowing her to change her mind, although it would probably kill him if she did.
“I want you,” Ellie said, her voice barely a whisper as she cupped his face with both hands. “I need to feel you inside me.”
He didn’t want to prolong the foreplay any longer, either. He entered her slowly at first, getting the feel of her, the feel of them. Her body responded to his, and she arched up to meet each of his thrusts. In and out. Taking and giving.
Should he slow the pace, take it a little easier?
Her breath caught, and she gripped his shoulders, her nails pressing into his skin. “Yes. Oh, yes...”
That was all he needed to hear. He increased the tempo until she reached a peak, crying out with her climax and sending him over the edge. He let go, shuddering as he released with her in a sexual explosion that had him seeing stars spinning in the night sky.
He held her close, relishing each wave of pleasure, too overcome to speak. He’d known making love with her would be amazing, but he hadn’t expected it to be quite like this.
They’d forged a bond, it seemed, one that most friends never had. And while he meant to keep his promise to her, that he wouldn’t let them get in too deep, he had to admit that sex had never felt so good, so right.
The scent of their lovemaking swirled around them as he relished the sweet afterglow. When his heart rate finally began to slow to a normal pace, he rolled to the side, taking her with him. He brushed a strand of hair from her brow and looked down at her.
She smiled leisurely, and he kissed the tip of her nose. “Who would’ve ever thought that being friends with benefits would be as incredible as this?” he said.
She flinched, then slowly eased out of his embrace.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing. Not really. It was definitely good. I just wish we wouldn’t have acted on our impulses. There’s too much at stake, and I don’t want to screw up our friendship.”
Then she rolled to the side, grabbed her towel and headed out of the room, messing with his pride and leaving him more than a little bewildered.
* * *
Ellie returned to the guest r
oom, snatched the clothes she’d left on the bed and went to the bathroom to freshen up and get dressed. All the while, she kicked herself for being so impulsive.
She was a bright, capable woman who always weighed the options and thought things through. But not today. She’d let sexual attraction and desire run amok. And letting her brain take the back seat had knocked her off balance.
She’d spent years proving that she was a born leader who could accomplish anything a man could do—and she’d often done it better. But she’d just taken a giant step backward when it came to proving anything.
To make matters worse, not only was Steven an amazing lover, the best she’d ever had, he’d also become a kind and supportive friend, one who’d gone so far as to offer to marry her, just so she could save face.
But friends didn’t sleep together. Nor did they stir up the yearnings and romantic feelings Ellie had begun to have. And that left her uneasy and a little disoriented.
The bathroom walls began to close in on her, and all she wanted to do was escape to a quiet place where she could think herself out of the corner she’d just backed into. But where could she go? Reporters and bloggers were just waiting to pounce on her, so she would probably end up driving around town until she came up with a better game plan.
After running a brush through her hair and applying some lip gloss, she slipped into a pale green T-shirt and a pair of black yoga pants, her baby belly stretching the waistband to the limit. She opened the bathroom door and stepped into the hall, only to find Steven standing there, shirtless and wearing a pair of jeans, the top button undone. She stopped dead in her tracks, like a possum facing an oncoming car in the street, heart pounding and having nowhere to run.
Guilt and insecurity—feelings she rarely, if ever, experienced—slammed into her.
“Ellie,” he said, his voice soft yet husky. “What’s wrong?”
Nothing.
Everything.
It’s hard to put it into words.