He must have done this a million times.
“I want to kiss you.”
His voice was a whisper, brushing against her soul as his hand swept the hair off the side of her neck. His gentle graze had her knees trembling and her breasts straining.
And her mind rebelling.
How could she allow herself to get intimate with him while carrying this intense secret? She had already established that she couldn’t tell him. She most certainly couldn’t allow herself to feel anything more for him than she already did.
Lust, that’s it.
He was a damned fine man. His shoulders, his arms, his magical, magical hands. The soulful way he could stare at her as if he had never seen another woman. As if she were a goddess in the flesh.
He brought her back to life.
She breathed deeply, taking in the erotic scent of his cologne and his raw manliness. He could easily intoxicate her, which could be a good thing considering she had to abstain from other types of intoxication.
The hand that had toyed with her hair moved to the strap of her dress. His finger slipped between the silky fabric and her bare shoulder. Shivers ran down her arm and into her breasts as her imagination went wild.
She didn’t really want to go to the gala, did she?
She leaned into him, bringing her hand to his chest. His muscles rippled even through his shirt and jacket. The light from her bracelet danced across the underside of his chin. She wanted to capture each drop of light with her tongue—to trace a path along his usually-stubbled-but-now-freshly-smooth skin.
She hadn’t had sex since the last time she had been with him, and it was an excruciatingly long recess.
She so wanted to invite him to the playground with her.
“Let’s go,” he said in his low, husky, sexy-as-hell voice. “We’ll be late.”
He didn’t give her a chance to argue. Or to beg. She should be thankful to him for saving her pride, at least.
Karly did not beg.
He held the door for her as they exited her apartment. He opened the door and stood guard while she got situated in the car. He insisted on escorting her in proper gentleman fashion all the way into the lobby of the art museum, where she immediately felt the stares and envy of every woman present.
She couldn’t blame them for their dropped-jaw, wide-eyed expressions. The man was hot. Scorching hot.
They could fan themselves all they wanted. He was hers for the night.
Okay, okay. So she had placed this evening in the non-date category. The horny gala attendees didn’t need to know that.
For one night, she could pretend they were a happy, expectant couple. She could imagine this scenario differently—that they had planned a bundle of joy to make their family complete. That they would, together, erase the burden of Karly’s childhood memories and replace them with the sweetness of raising a child of their own. Together they would protect their child from any harm—unlike Karly’s mother had done. Alcohol would never be more important than their child, and they’d never parade “guests” through the home, putting their child at risk.
“Are you okay?”
Ben’s voice ripped her out of her childhood bedroom and brought her back to the place she most wanted to be.
“I’m fine. Why?” She smoothed her hands over her belly, wondering what it would feel like when her uterus expanded. And counting down the minutes until she could rip these constricting pantyhose off.
“You tensed up for a minute there.”
“Sorry.” She shrugged and accepted the elbow he offered.
Ben turned out to be far more cultured than she had thought he’d be. She knew he partnered with Cole to run an architectural firm and spent most of his days in an office, but he always had a sort of rough edge about him that she couldn’t imagine being smoothed enough to pull off this kind of act.
The people in the room were on the snooty side, but he charmed them right out of their smiles. Who was she to judge, though? He had charmed her right out of her panties before.
After making small talk with a few of the museum’s benefactors, Ben led her to another small room, his hand resting on her lower back as if it belonged there.
“Why are we leaving the area?” she whispered. She didn’t want to miss a thing, and they were just getting ready to unveil the showcased work of art, which the organizers had kept a mystery until the event. Money rolled in as everyone attempted to wager a guess as to who the Artist of the Year would be.
“I have a surprise for you,” Ben whispered back, tapping her on the ass when she slowed her pace.
“You’re incorrigible. This isn’t a date. I am not going into a darkened gallery with you. You heard the announcement—the smaller galleries are closed tonight. Besides, I’m not having sex with you. Especially here. It’s irreverent to even consider it.”
Since Karly was facing forward, she couldn’t see Ben’s grin. But she could feel it.
“Always thinking about sex with me. Can’t say I blame you. I am that good.”
“More like I’m always thinking of ways to slap that cockiness out of you. I should have brought a pin to pop your enlarged ego.”
“Karly, Karly, Karly.” He squeezed her hip, pulling her closer. “I think you’ll like this surprise. Not as much as you’d like the sex you so obviously want, but…”
She shook her head and rolled her eyes.
But she kept walking. He had managed to pique her curiosity.
He looked over his shoulder before opening another door. She jumped when a voice greeted them.
“You’re late.” The feminine voice scolded, but there was a hint of humor.
“My apologies,” Ben said, releasing his hold on Karly and lifting the small hand of the mystery woman and bringing it to his lips. “Thank you for waiting.”
“For you, Mr. Knight, anything. And for this hot number you brought with you? I could have a blast painting you two in the act. I might need to join in to get it all warmed up first—you know, to invigorate the muse.”
Ben winked and turned to Karly.
She remained silent. She had to. She was speechless. Not because of the suggestive conversation, but because she realized who he had brought her to meet.
“Karly, I’d like you to meet—”
“Tessa St. Claire.” Karly didn’t care that she sounded like a fan girl. Or that she might miss the unveiling of the showcased piece. Or that Ben seemed a little too into the idea of a threesome.
She was meeting her favorite artist.
“I’m a huge fan.”
“So I’ve been told,” Tessa grinned, her short, spiky hair bobbing as she nodded. “I hear you’re a photographer? Another spectacular art form.”
Karly looked at Ben’s gleeful face and smiled.
“I am. Only because I can’t paint. I so love to capture the light and texture of life.”
“And I can’t take a photograph for the life of me, so I appreciate those who can.”
“I had no idea you’d be here tonight.” Karly let the awe penetrate her voice.
“My old friend here asked me to come. I usually hate these stuffy crapfairs. People walking around with their cocktails, totally missing the boat on their interpretations of another person’s art. Who are they to pretend to see into the depths of an artist’s psyche?” Tessa shuddered. “That’s why I’m back here. Hiding.”
“I am so honored to meet you.”
They chatted for several moments. Karly felt her heart melt a little more with each second that passed.
Meeting Tessa St. Claire was a dream come true. A dream she had never confided in anyone.
So how had Ben made this leap?
She asked him as they found their way back to the gallery.
“I wouldn’t read too much into it, sweet cakes. You have her work displayed all over your apartment. You even had a set of note cards with her prints. I didn’t have to be a detective to figure it out.”
He had her there. But st
ill, this was huge.
“You actually know her?”
“I know people who know her. Oh look—we made it back in time for the unveiling.”
Artist of the Year—Tessa St. Claire.
Tears streamed down Karly’s face as Tessa reluctantly made her way to the podium to accept her plaque. Dressed in a colorful patchwork dress, long bauble necklace, and dirty brown clogs, she looked out of place in the sea of black and navy blue cocktail gowns and suits.
She spoke of freedom, of expressing yourself through your art, of listening to your heart in all aspects of your life, and of living your truth, no matter what it was. She spoke with authority. At the end of her speech, she looked into the audience with disdain all over her face. She dared each and every attendee to live a life of art, of honesty. To live as honestly as the erotically positioned group in her painting.
“A life lived without fear of reprehension is a life lived fully. Be the controversial painting that lives in your imagination. If my art can go mainstream, you have nothing to worry about.” The audience chuckled softly. “If my art can capture rapture for eternity in these poses, you shouldn’t be afraid to bare your soul. Especially to the ones close to you.”
Karly gripped Ben’s arm. He covered her hand with his, smiling into her tearful face.
Damned hormones were to blame, but she had no problem with him thinking she was simply moved by her favorite artist’s insightful words and the beauty of this moment Ben created.
She hoped her child had his grin.
She wished he didn’t have this prejudice against having children. If it were simply that he didn’t picture himself a parent, well, she’d welcome him to the club.
But he had good reasons for his convictions.
She had to tell him anyway.
She couldn’t tell him.
The war waged on in her heart and in her gut.
“You look like you could use a drink,” Ben said.
“Ice water would be great.”
He looked at her skeptically, suspicion darkening his eyes.
“Afraid of lowering your inhibitions, huh? Don’t worry, pretty sweet cake. I won’t give you what you want until you come to me begging for it.”
Blood rushed to her face and elsewhere.
Damn him. She hated arrogant men. Despised cockiness. And yet every time he said something like that, she had the urge to get naked and do the cha-cha. With him.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she finally managed. “I’m doing a cleanse and can’t have alcohol.”
At the mention of something as girly as a cleanse, his mouth clamped shut.
“Be right back.”
She worked her way around the room while awaiting his return, staying close to the walls so she could observe the people. Her fingers itched to snap photos, to view the world through her high-powered lens. To have that barrier between her and the real people. To be an anonymous observer, a fly on the wall. To be someone who didn’t have to deal with her own problems.
Ten minutes later, when Ben still hadn’t returned with her drink, Karly went looking for him.
He had been cornered by a white-haired, high-ranking couple. To the casual observer, he’d look engaged. To her trained eye, he looked trapped, clutching two glasses as he smiled politely.
She could save him.
“There you are with my water. I’ve been waiting for you.” Karly took the glass he held toward her. She smiled at the relief in his eyes as she sipped. “That’s perfect. I was so parched.”
She had fun making her voice sound as snobby as others she had heard around the room.
“Is this the lucky fiancée I’ve been hearing about? She’s a pretty one. No wonder she managed to rope you in.” The lady smiled, but her eyes didn’t crinkle as much as they should have given her tone of voice.
Her husband piped in, “Takes quite a woman to convince this old chap to settle down and become a family man. Didn’t know you had it in you, Benjamin.”
Karly knew her face had lost all color—ice crystals replaced platelets in her blood.
She tried to smile, desperately searching her mind for some explanation that could make this make sense.
She hadn’t told anybody.
“Ben.” Ben framed his correction with a smile and a nod. “And this is Karly, a good friend and art aficionado. I knew she’d appreciate this event far more than Julia. She’s enjoying a peaceful night at home.”
Whoa, wait. Another pregnant woman? A fiancée? What planet had she landed on?
The energy in the corner grew tense, but Karly could only make out the shapes of the people around her. Her vision seemed to be failing thanks to the shock of the conversation.
As soon as she could politely disengage, she placed her glass on the table next to her and walked away.
“Karly, wait.”
She walked faster, thankful for the years she had spent walking in heels so she didn’t trip and fall in her haste. She had gotten herself out of many precarious situations wearing stilettos. Tonight she’d succeed as well.
He caught her as she ran down the front steps of the art gallery.
“Karly—stop. I meant to tell you earlier.”
She spun around, looking up at him as he loomed two steps above her.
“Oh, how sweet of you. You meant to tell me about your pregnant fiancée. I’m touched.”
“She’s not my fiancée, Karly. Can we go someplace private for this conversation?”
He looked around, fiddling with the keys in his pocket.
“I won’t be going anywhere private with you. Ever.” She stormed off, enjoying the clunk of her shoes on the pavement. Rage replaced any remaining common sense, and she didn’t want to leave him with peace of mind. She flung around to confront him with her truth. “You sure have a way with the ladies, huh? Quite the virile man, getting women knocked up right and left.”
“I didn’t get anyone knocked up.”
Something registered on his face. He must have seen the evidence dance across her eyes.
“Hold up. Are you—”
“Don’t even worry about it. I wasn’t planning on holding you responsible, anyway.”
“Karly, stop right there. You are not walking away from me after dropping that kind of bomb.”
He caught her easily, leading her to believe he had merely been toying with her before.
His hand gripped her arm.
Her eyes narrowed, staring him down like the slime ball he was. If he didn’t remove his hand from her arm, she was afraid of what she’d do…
“How could you be pregnant?”
“Gee, Benjamin. Didn’t your mother ever explain it to you? Or was she already too crazy to give you the talk?”
His eyes darkened at her betrayal. She wanted to call back the words, to swallow the vile, to not allow the anger to seep out in such a hurtful way, but it was too late.
She had gone there. Where she never should have gone.
Best to cut the cord now, anyway. Whatever bit of peace they had managed to build plummeted down the mountain when she discovered her baby would have a sibling.
He had managed to make her feel special.
That just showed what an idiot she had become.
She blamed the hormones for the softness. For the tears. For the urge to throw up on his shoes.
He must have sensed that vomit was coming, because he released her seconds before the spasms began.
He rubbed her back while she dry-heaved.
She resisted the urge to stomp on his toes.
“So that’s why you’ve been so sick.”
“Yeah, Sherlock. Are you surprised to hear I don’t have an eating disorder after all?”
His fingers on her back stilled. “Damn, word travels fast.”
“Yeah.”
“I was just worried.”
“Well you have nothing to worry about.”
She dug a tissue out of her purse and inelegantly blew her nose.
“Karly, I’ve never been in this situation before. I’m always careful. I don’t even know what to say.”
“Wow, lost for words? Hmm. Seems to me that you actually have been in this situation, if I heard that old couple right.”
She found herself tensing in wishful thinking. Wishing he’d tell her she had been sleeping and this was all a dream. Wishing he’d say he only wanted her, forever and ever. Wishing he’d say she heard the whole thing wrong.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” she snapped. “You didn’t do it on your own. I was the one who insisted we’d be fine when the condom malfunctioned. I’ll deal with the repercussions. You go ahead and worry about your other situation.”
“It’s not my situation.” He bent toward her as if to confide something. “I didn’t get Julia pregnant. She’s an old friend who showed up at my door a few days ago. She was with me at the birthday festival, remember? She’s hiding from her abusive boyfriend, and I have to let people think she’s with me so no one goes digging.”
Karly laughed in his face.
“You should have been a writer. I have to admit, you’re a quick thinker.”
“I’m not making this up. I’m telling you because you need to know. And I trust you to not let word get out.”
“Your name will never cross my lips again.”
“Don’t be like that, Karly.”
“I’d appreciate it if you’d forget my name, too.”
He allowed her to pull away. She didn’t hesitate to rush forward as if the apocalypse was happening behind her.
Wasn’t it?
His footsteps thundered closer as her resolve grew stronger. She’d do this on her own. And she wouldn’t have to be burdened with the ethical dilemma that she hadn’t told him.
“At least let me take you home.”
“I’m fine.”
“Karly, you’re carrying my baby. I get a say in your safety.”
She flung around, fire building behind her eye sockets.
“You get no say. No say. I’m perfectly capable of keeping myself and my baby safe.”
He looked like he wanted to say something. A vein bulged in his forehead, and his jaw was clenched so tight, she wondered if he’d crack his teeth.
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