“I’ll call you,” I said to him as I hugged him at the doorstep.
“Why don’t you stay the night? Didn’t you say your friend left for Europe yesterday?”
His suggestion made me pause. Going back to Rach’s empty apartment was something I wasn’t looking forward to. In fact, I’d been dreading it all day. But maybe I could spend the night here, just one time? Ernest was alone with the staff anyway.
“I’d like that,” I said, smiling. “But I don’t have a change of clothes with me.”
“Gloria’s walk-in closet is filled with outfits she doesn’t even wear,” he said, brushing aside my concern, lit up and grinning with the idea of my staying. “I’ll get the housekeeper to lay out a few things for you.”
Glad I wouldn’t have to spend a lonely night in Rach’s apartment, I followed after Ernest as he wheeled toward his study room.
After a dinner of butter chicken and fragrant rice and Ernest patiently teaching me how to play Chinese Go, I settled in the guest bedroom on the second floor—the same room Denton and I had stayed in on my first visit here. With a nostalgic sigh, I burrowed under the blanket and turned off the lamp. Sounds of the gentle ocean waves soon lulled me to sleep.
It must have been around midnight when something startled me awake. I blinked and stared into the darkness, briefly confused about where I was. A man swore beside me, then a bright yellow light washed over the bedroom, making me squint and blink.
“What are you doing here, Tiffany?” The male voice sounded incredulous.
“Huh?” I cringed at the sudden light, still half asleep. “Is that you, Denton? What are you doing at the Hamptons?”
“I’ve been staying with Gramps since my parents went to Beijing on a business trip two weeks ago.” He stood at the edge of the bed, looking gorgeous with his disheveled blond hair. He’d tugged his tie loose. “What are you doing here?”
“Ernest and I had lunch today, and then he invited me to stay the night.” I should have known Ernest was up to no good. He’d deliberately put me into the guest room, knowing that Denton would stumble into bed while I was in here sleeping.
I really should have suspected something when he gave me a knowing grin right before saying goodnight.
Denton’s suspicious green eyes fell on my nightgown, one of Gloria’s expensive lacy lingeries. Again, the housekeeper had probably chosen this racy one because Ernest had ordered her to do so.
“Um, it’s your mother’s.” I hurriedly pulled up the straps. “Ernest said it was fine, so I kind of borrowed it.”
“It looks good on you,” Denton said quietly, pulling off his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. “You should keep it.”
“Are you going to sleep in here tonight?” I asked, my stomach doing a half flip at the idea.
He shook his head. “No, I’ll stay in the study.”
“Why?”
“Because…” He closed his eyes as if in pain. “I haven’t touched you—or any woman for that matter—for over eight weeks. Just seeing you here in bed, wearing that skimpy piece of material, is too much for me. I have to go.”
“Wait!” I threw myself at him before I knew what I was doing, wrapping my arms around his waist. “Don’t go like this. Can we talk? I don’t want you to be mad and I...”
Denton pulled me up and silenced me with a rough, demanding kiss.
I moaned into his mouth, shocked and also turned on. The straps were slipping over my shoulders again, but I didn’t care. I cupped his unshaven cheeks and pressed my breasts into his broad chest, loving the way my tender nipples rubbed against him. I’d missed this, the way our bodies meshed together.
We belong together. Why can’t you see that?
He deepened our kiss, his hands running down my back to squeeze my ass. The hungry way he devoured me sent an intense throbbing between my legs. When my lingerie slipped past my breasts, Denton immediately moved down to pull a tight nipple into his hot mouth.
I grabbed his hair, reveling in the way his tongue swirled and his teeth nipped at me.
“You feel different,” he murmured against my bare skin.
“Different, how?”
He glanced up at me, moving his lips up my chest, pressing kisses to my skin until his lips reached my collarbone. “I don’t know… you feel fuller somehow.”
When his hair tickled my nose, I suddenly felt nauseous.
Oh, please, not now.
I pushed down the urge to vomit. Morning sickness, my ass. It was only a little after midnight. And why was Denton’s faint cologne affecting me like this?
“I… I need to use the bathroom,” I gasped, roughly pulling away.
“Right now?”
I clasped a hand over my mouth, praying I wouldn’t gag loudly. “Gotta go.”
Minutes later, I flushed the toilet and washed my face. As I stared into the mirror, it hit me that Denton might put two and two together and figure out what was going on.
“Great, just what I need,” I muttered, wiping my face on a fresh towel. I took my time in the bathroom, afraid to go out and face him.
There was a knock on the bathroom door. “Are you okay?”
“I’m f-fine. I’ll be out in a second.”
Preparing for the worst, I drew in a deep breath and stepped into the bedroom, where Denton was sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for me.
Eighteen
“You sure you’re okay?” Denton asked again, his eyes narrowing. “Was it something you ate for dinner?”
I hurried past and grabbed the fluffy robe flung over a chair. “Well, Ernest and I had butter chicken and rice. The food was exceptional, as usual.”
He glanced down at his hands, frowning. “Then is it because you can’t stand my touch? You prefer to be intimate with Andy instead?”
What the ever-loving fuck? For someone so good looking and masculine, he sure was incessantly hung up on my ex.
“No, Denton. I do not prefer to be intimate with my ex. That ship sailed a long time ago, right after I met you.”
His voice softened. “It has to be option three, then.”
“What’s option three?”
“The cause of your sudden nausea.” He lifted a brow. “You must be pregnant.”
Oh my gosh. The North men were too smart for their own good. I avoided his stare, fiddling with the belt on my robe.
“Or maybe it was the food I had for dinner,” I said, shrugging. “All that rich cream and ghee do make my insides feel somewhat greasy.”
“Do you want some coffee? I know I do.”
More than anything, I wanted a shot of caffeine right about now, but I had to avoid all caffeinated drinks and alcohol until the baby arrived.
So with a forced smile, I asked for a glass of cold orange juice instead.
Denton returned minutes later, carrying a tray filled with a steaming pot of coffee, my orange juice as requested, and a plate of glazed donuts. We sat on the balcony and stuffed our faces (or at least, I did) as we listened to the waves crashing over the shoreline.
“Do you normally finish work so late?” I asked, curious about his nighttime activities.
“I do, unfortunately. But I met an old college friend for drinks tonight.”
“Hmm.”
Denton gave me a pointed look. “That sounded judgmental.”
“I’m not judging.” Or maybe I was, just a little.
“Sure you were. Now tell me why.”
I hugged myself, staring out into the black darkness of the ocean. “Ernest told me about his heart transplant,” I whispered. “I… I think you should come home early, especially since your parents aren’t here to be with him.” Thinking about Ernest in this big house, alone with the staff, caused a dull ache to spread across my chest.
Denton nodded. “Duly noted. Although you should know, he’s never really alone. He’s always busy with his Go-playing friend as he calls her, Miriam, and he still works for Northern Alpine Industries, albeit from home. So if you’re pi
cturing a sad, lonely old man sitting on the porch…” A grin broke out on his face. “That’ll piss Gramps off. He’s still busy and impressive and scares the living shit out of many of our employees.”
I laughed. “Good to know. But I’m going to make an effort too. I’ll try to visit him at least twice a week, and update him on—”
“Your pregnancy?” Denton slipped in, looking serious now.
I put my glass down, trying to control my trembling. “If you’re referring to my earlier nausea—”
“I’m referring to a lot of things. I’ve been sitting here for the past half hour, watching you and thinking. It all makes sense now. The slight changes in your body. Your nausea. Your avoidance of coffee, which you love. The way you devoured those donuts. Your sudden visit to Gramps. And the overly protective way Andy spoke about you over the phone. He knows, doesn’t he?”
Like I said, these North men were too smart. There was no way I could lie again and get away with it.
“He found out by accident,” I muttered finally, staring at my fifth donut. “I was going to tell you after Christmas.”
Denton blew out a slow breath. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you.”
“There’s no need for that. And just in case you were wondering, I have no expectations from you, okay? I’m perfectly fine with being a single mom.”
“The hell you are. Our baby is part of the North family. And that’s the way it will be.”
Startled, I rose from my chair. “Are you thinking of taking my baby away from me? Is that your plan?”
He shot me an irritated glance. “You and your melodrama. No, Tiffany. We are going to raise this child together. You and I. Our baby will be a North, both legally and in wealth.” His eyes shone with a strange light. “And we will stay married, for real this time.”
I should be happy. Denton was giving me everything my heart desired. And yet that selfish part of me rose up again.
I want us to stay married because you love me. Not because I’m carrying your baby.
“Let me think about it,” I said, sitting down again.
“What’s there to think about? I’m still legally your husband. You’re having my baby. Is there a reason we shouldn’t be together?”
“Yes,” I whispered. “The biggest reason is a loveless marriage.”
That silenced him pretty quickly. After a while, he cleared his throat. “What we have between us is not ‘loveless.’ So don’t say that.”
“Physical attraction is not love. Having awesome sex is not love. We can find that with plenty of other faceless partners in New York City.”
His jaw ticked. “So what do you want to hear? That I’m in love with you? That you’re my soul mate? Shit.” He rubbed his face, looking completely exhausted. “What is it with you women and idealistic love? Let me give you some advice— romantic comedies are not real life. Especially movies like Pretty Woman. They’re dangerous and give young women the wrong idea about where to find true love in unexpected places.”
“My god, you’re an arrogant dick.” If he wasn’t a little intimidating, I’d have smacked the back of his tousled head. “I don’t want you saying those three words if you don’t mean it. But I deserve more than a marriage of convenience. I deserve someone who’s head over heels for me and isn’t afraid to admit it.”
“You mean like Andy Morris?” Denton snapped back.
I threw my hands up. “Ugh, not this again. I’m going to bed.” Glaring at him over my shoulder, I shuffled back into the bedroom. This conversation was done.
That night, I laid sleepless in bed as Denton slept on the floor, armed with just a pillow and a thin blanket. Was he right? Was I being too idealistic about the perfect marriage? Some people had arranged marriages and grew to love each other in time. Which was all fine for them, but it wasn’t for me.
I wanted to be my husband’s first choice, not someone he settled with.
Sighing in frustration, I tossed and turned, kicking at my blanket. Here I was, alone in bed, and Rach was probably having the best sex of her life with Dylan on their European trip.
A jealous growl escaped from my throat.
“Sexually frustrated, are we?” Denton asked from the floor. So he hadn’t been sleeping, after all.
I snorted. “Oh, please. I was actually thinking about Rach and all the fun she’s having right now.”
Denton fell silent, then finally said, “We’ll go together next time. With our baby.”
I wanted that more than anything. But right now, I was afraid to raise my hopes.
Nineteen
Christmas finally arrived, and with it, a rare snowstorm.
Mom had been busy all day, cooking and yelling at me because I kept eating all the marshmallows. She’d hauled several boxes of containers of yummies into my apartment, insisting having Christmas here because she’d noticed I wasn’t feeling well lately. She’d made quite a feast, even though there would only be the two of us—roast turkey with stuffing, mashed potatoes, several kinds of salad, sweet potato pie, pumpkin pie, and a Yule log. She was a superwoman.
And I just kept getting in the way, much to her annoyance.
“It’s a shame Rachel isn’t here with us,” Mom said as she set the table. The snow was falling heavily outside the window, our Christmas tree lights reflecting soft hues of green, red, and yellow in the giant flakes. “She always did love my cooking.”
“Too bad for her.” I reached for the plate of sugar cookies. “But that means I get to eat all of this.” With a wicked laugh, I munched on a cookie before Mom could stop me.
Anticipation filled my chest at what I was about to do. Mom had held down lots of jobs while raising me by herself— waitressing, cooking in diners, telemarketing. Later in life, she’d climbed the ranks to become sales manager at a trendy boutique store. Her dream was to own her own boutique store one day.
Today, I was going to make her dream a reality to help soften the news about my baby.
As soon as we sat down at the table, I immediately reached for several slices of turkey. They were tender and moist, and the cranberry sauce was heavenly.
“Why didn’t Andy come today?” Mom asked as she served me a slice of pie.
“I told him not to.”
“Well, that was rude.” She frowned in disapproval. “You know he doesn’t go home for Christmas.”
Andy didn’t get along with his family because of his stepdad. But that was no longer my problem to worry about.
“He’s not a kid, Mom. In fact, he knows more people than I do. I’ll bet he’s at a party right now, getting drunk on champagne and female attention.”
“Maybe I should put aside some food for him. In case he changes his mind and decides to drop by.”
She could be so stubborn sometimes. Nodding, I said, “Sure, why not? I’m sure he’d appreciate the care package.”
While she was busy in the kitchen, I pulled out an envelope from under the Christmas tree, excitement mixing with nerves to make me jittery. It was time to present my gift and break the news.
I prayed she wouldn’t faint twice.
“Merry Christmas, Mom,” I said, holding out the envelope as she returned to the living room.
She looked startled for a second as she stared at the envelope. My previous Christmas gifts had been bulky scarves I’d knitted or some ludicrous hat slashed to half price.
“Oh, honey, you got me a gift certificate.” Her eyes shimmered with tears. “Are you sure you can afford this?”
I cleared my throat, growing sweaty. “Um, sure. Why don’t you open it and take a look?”
It was a check for $500,000.
Mom didn’t faint, but she shouted as her knees gave way and she collapsed on the couch. “What is this?” Her hand trembled as she held up the check. “Did you go out and rob a bank? Commit insurance fraud? Or maybe win the lottery?”
“None of the above.” With a forced smile, I sat down beside her. “But I do have some news to tell you
.”
Mom’s face turned white, as if she were expecting the worst kind of news.
I drew in a ragged breath. “I’m pregnant.”
I started from the beginning—how I met Denton, his proposal of a fake marriage, and his promise of a million dollars after six months. How I met his family and fell in love with them, especially Ernest.
And how I fell in love with Denton, my fake husband, who still couldn’t tell me if he had feelings for me or not.
“And now you’re having his child,” Mom said softly, her gaze falling to my stomach. “Does he know?”
I nodded. “I told him last week. He wanted us to stay married, but I said I didn’t want a marriage of convenience.”
“Oh, honey.” Mom paused, and it was obvious she wanted to give me some sage advice. “I respect your decision, and you’ll always have my support. But being a single parent was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. There were times when I would lie awake in bed, wishing I had a spouse to share my concerns with, someone who supported me.” When I didn’t reply, she added, “You want him to be in love with you. I understand that. But marriage is also a partnership. And it appears that’s what this young man is offering.”
Did I want too much? Because it sounded that way to my ears. Suddenly tired of this conversation, I switched my attention to the Christmas gift I’d given her.
“I know opening your own boutique will probably cost more than that.” I pointed at the check. “But it’ll help get you started. And you can apply for a business loan too.”
“It’s too much, Tiff. You should keep this money for the baby, just in case.”
“Or you could have a successful boutique and give me a managerial position there one day,” I replied as an alternative, laughing. “Or fully support my post-grad education by paying all the tuition?”
Mom joined me and laughed. “That sounds like a fair exchange.”
This evening was turning out better than I’d anticipated. Relieved at the outcome, I let my defenses down and settled at the table to finish my pie.
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