by Nalini Singh
Of course, the pear dish was just the start. Next came a chocoholic's dream--a rich and sinfully dark chocolate mousse swirled to perfection inside a tiny bowl fashioned from the finest milk chocolate, then topped with curls of white chocolate sprinkled with sparkling gold dust. Florentina had paired it with a strong black tea that, to Sarah's tongue, held a faint undertone of raspberries, lush and juicy.
Sarah dipped her spoon into the mousse, took a taste.
There was no way she could hold back her moan this time.
"Jesus, Sarah." Abe's words were rough, ragged. "I won't be able to fucking walk if you keep that up."
She stared at him, swallowed the mousse... and realized she'd dropped a curl of chocolate right in the V of her red top. It was sitting on the plump curve of her breast. She didn't even have the chance to attempt to pick it up before Abe leaned over and wiped it off with the soft white of his cloth napkin.
"Behave," he ordered in a tone as stern as that of her junior high school principal. "I mean it."
Sarah took another bite of the mousse, slid the spoon out oh-so-slow from between her lips. She didn't know what had gotten into her except that Abe was looking at her like he wanted to eat her alive, and no one had looked at her with that much raw want for a long, long time--not even the man who'd once been her husband. He had back before everything went wrong, before the grief and the drugs and the anger turned him into someone she didn't know.
It was a heady feeling to see that look in his eyes again.
Swallowing the spoonful of mousse, she slid in another bite and closed her lips around it with lush deliberation. Abe's eyes were black flames across from her. When she let her eyes flutter shut and moaned in the back of her throat this time, she heard him push back his chair in a screech of sound against the concrete.
Lifting her lashes, she met his gaze, shook her head.
His jaw clenched as he pulled his chair back to the table, but that fire in his eyes, it didn't dim.
It seemed to flare ever brighter as she finished the mousse with exquisite patience before picking up the new cup of tea that had been delivered partway through by a slender man in black pants and a white shirt, their old cups whisked away. This tea was cold and cleansing, all peppermint and ice.
Shivering in sensory pleasure, she put the delicate cup of transparent glass on its matching saucer. And spoke for the first time since she'd begun her teasing. "You didn't eat your mousse."
Abe nudged his plate toward her.
Sinking her teeth into her lower lip, she shook her head. "There are multiple courses to come, and I've already inhaled a gazillion calories."
"Who cares?" He stretched his legs out on either side of hers, his big body in a sprawl that wasn't the least bit careless. "You always look hot."
The blunt comment got her right in the gut. Because he said it as if it was an unquestionable truth, as if the fact she'd been labeled "plus-size" by the media when they were being nice and "fat" when they weren't was a load of bullshit. As if she was gorgeous and sexy. She knew he meant it--because no matter how awful he'd become under the influence of drugs, he'd never, not once, made her feel bad about her body.
It was the one thing he'd always and enthusiastically loved about her.
"Thank you," she said, then smiled. "And you are seriously ripped. Like a model off the cover of that health magazine."
Eyes gleaming in masculine pleasure, he nodded at her chocolate bowl. "Not going to take a bite?" It was a dare.
CHAPTER 20
NARROWING HER EYES, she picked up the empty bowl and flicked out her tongue to lick the edge. The rich, decadent taste of the mousse mingled with that of the creamy milk chocolate used to create the bowl. She couldn't control her shudder.
"Fuck!" Shoving back his chair, Abe rose and stalked to the edge of the tiny roof.
When she made a move to join him, her face flushed and in need of the wind she could see ruffling his shirt, he half turned and pointed a finger at her. "You. Stay. There." It was a growl.
Sarah stayed. Not because she was scared but because she wasn't sure she'd be able to keep hold of her senses or her clothes if she got near Abe when he was looking at her like that. Glaring at her until it was clear she'd obey, Abe turned back to stare out into the darkness. His wide shoulders rose and fell multiple times, as if he was taking deep breath after deep breath, but when he shifted on his heel to return to the table, she saw his body remained out of control.
"Quiet." He slammed back into his chair with that command, pulling it under the table enough that he could use the tablecloth to cover his lap.
Sarah felt a smile try to form, attempted to bite it back, but it just wouldn't die. The fight to withhold her mirth erupted into a small snort, and when Abe glared at her again, the snort turned into giggles. Giving in, she laughed harder than she'd laughed in an entire year, delighted with this night, with the rock star across from her, with the way the sensual memory of chocolate lingered on her tongue, with the entire world.
ABE HAD NEVER BEEN SO SEXUALLY FRUSTRATED. Sarah had always had a way of riling him up, but before, when they'd been together, he'd made her pay for her teasing--to both their pleasure. Often she'd teased him for exactly that reason. And he'd let her, having convinced himself their physical chemistry didn't mean anything, that it was just sex.
Yeah, which was why he'd never once cheated on her, no matter how many groupies threw themselves at him.
It had never been just sex, not with Sarah.
But watching her laugh, even if it was at his expense... it was better than sex. He hadn't seen his wife laugh for the longest time. Perhaps since halfway through their marriage. He'd forgotten how goddamn beautiful she was when she laughed, open and luminous and with zero fear of the world.
Sarah was magnificent always, but she was a goddess when she laughed.
Wiping her thumbs under her eyes to sweep away the tears that had fallen during the laughter, her cheeks still creased in a deep smile, she said, "Drink your tea."
He looked askance at the cup he'd ignored. Fine condensation had begun to bead on the sides, so it wasn't hot tea. "Why are there leaves floating in it?"
"Fresh mint. It's delicious."
Abe wasn't sold, but decided he might as well try to develop an enjoyment of other drinks since alcohol wasn't ever going to be on the menu and Florentina Chastain would probably be mortally offended if he asked for coffee. He drank. "It tastes like toothpaste."
"It does not!"
He drank some more, found the toothpaste-flavored ice water kind of grew on him. "Okay," he admitted. "I might drink that again." He almost told her to remember what it was called so he could order it again one day, as if she'd always be by his side.
Quick, confident steps sounded before the words could spill out, Florentina Chastain herself walking up to clear away their plates. She gave him a haughty look straight down the bridge of her aquiline nose. "You don't like mousse?"
Abe had a feeling that if he didn't answer right, he'd never again get a table here--and Sarah liked this place. "It's her fault." He pointed at the culprit. "She ate her mousse in front of me. Slowly. Very, very slowly."
Sarah's mouth fell open. "Abe!" Scrunching up her napkin, she threw it at his head.
Florentina's icy demeanor thawed as he caught the soft missile, an unexpected sparkle in her gaze. "Ah, then my chocolate has done its job, no?" Sweeping away the plates, she walked off, her heels making small tip-tap sounds on the roof.
"I can't believe you said that." Sarah pinned him with a scowl.
"At least she'll allow you to eat her desserts again."
Sarah went to speak, paused. "Hmm. Yes, you're right." She took a final sip from her cup before their usual server arrived to deliver their new tea and remove the old cups.
Florentina returned after the quiet, efficient male, this time with a pot of some creamy thing that she put in the center of the table. She then placed small platters of beautifully sliced and arran
ged fruit in front of them, including some exotic things Abe didn't immediately recognize. "Enjoy." A glance at Abe. "Perhaps you should eat slowly in front of her this time?"
With that wicked suggestion, she walked off to disappear down the stairs.
Abe looked at the tiny fork Florentina had left by his plate, then at his hand.
Yeah, no.
Using his fingers to pick up a slice of what might've been white peach, he dipped it in the sauce thing and threw the whole piece into his mouth, chewing and swallowing quickly. It was pretty good. The fruits weren't raw as he'd initially thought--they'd been cooked very slightly and coated with some spices that felt good on the tongue. He ate another piece, all the while deliberately not looking at Sarah. Until he realized she hadn't reached for a single piece of fruit.
Frowning, he threw the second half of an orange slice into his mouth. "You don't want to try?"
Cheeks flushed and eyes glittering, she ducked her head. But it was too late; he'd seen what she was trying to hide. His entire body heated up, his smile slow and dangerous. He hadn't been trying to tease her--he didn't know how, not unless he had his hands on her. Clearly, however, he'd managed to do so by accident.
Why not capitalize on his success?
Taking a piece of apple, he dipped it in the sauce, then lifted it to the lush curves of her lips. He fucking loved Sarah's lips. Back when she'd liked him, the things she'd done to him with that mouth... mercy. "Here."
Her gaze lifted to hold his as her lips parted. She bit down on the first third, chewed. He waited, fed her the second bite... then the last. When her lips brushed his fingers on that final bite, he had to force himself to drop his hand. His damn cock might burst otherwise. His balls were already beyond all hope.
Then Sarah smiled again and he realized it was worth it.
Why in hell had he let this woman go? Talk about a lesson on the evils of alcohol and drugs. But of course it hadn't only been the booze and the drugs. He'd been an asshole to her in his angry grief, but grief didn't excuse how he'd acted. Nothing excused it.
Sarah wasn't ugly in her own grief.
And that grief lived in her every second of every day, regardless of if she laughed; he understood that. He'd witnessed his mother's devastation at Tessie's death--he had some idea of what it did to a woman to lose her child. His father, too, had never recovered. Gregory Bellamy hadn't been like Jeremy Vance, hadn't just been able to forget his daughter and move on. He'd mourned her every day till he died.
Abe's heart ached at the memory of the man who'd been his example of manhood, who'd taught him about honor and keeping your word and how to treat a woman. He'd have been so disappointed at Abe's behavior toward Sarah--but Abe vowed to his father that he'd do better. This time around, he'd do it right.
He couldn't control fate, couldn't control what would happen during the pregnancy, but he could control his own actions: he'd make damn certain that Sarah was happy in every way he could make her. It wasn't atonement, wasn't redemption.
It was hope... and need... and love.
That last terrified him. Because there was a very big chance that he'd permanently snuffed out any possibility of getting Sarah to love him back. She'd given him that priceless gift once, and he'd thrown it back into her face. Abe wouldn't blame her if she never trusted him again.
SARAH SAT IN THE PASSENGER SEAT OF ABE'S SUV, replete and content and with her skin tingling in that anticipatory way that said bone-melting pleasure hovered on the horizon. Sarah looked out the window at the slumbering lights of Los Angeles, swallowed. She and Abe, the sex had always been good. Phenomenal. That had never been their problem. And now...
Her hand opened over her abdomen.
"You good?"
She started, not having realized he was paying attention to her actions, he'd been so focused on driving. "Yes. I just suddenly remembered I'm pregnant." Of course it was always there, the knowledge, but sometimes it faded into the background, and other times it burst right into the very front of her consciousness and took away her breath.
Abe nodded, his eyes on the road. "I wonder if it'll be a boy or a girl." A grin. "Can we fight over the names?"
Who was this wonderful man so excited about the journey they were to share?
She wanted him desperately.
Inhaling deep, then exhaling in a quiet release, she made herself look forward instead of at Abe. She had to be careful, so careful. Fear gripped her heart at the idea of falling for him again only to be rejected, to be left behind.
No, she couldn't permit that to happen. Their relationship had to remain stable and friendly for the baby's sake. Nothing more, nothing less. It didn't matter how fiercely she was attracted to the man Abe had become. "We'll definitely be fighting if you want a weird Hollywood-child name," she said, trying to keep her tone light.
"Nope. I like girly names for girls and manly names for boys. Traditional as they come."
She rolled her eyes, her lips twitching. "If we have a son, I'm buying him dolls as well as trucks, same for if we have a girl."
"Fine with me. As long as their names are girly for a girl or manly for a boy."
"We'll see." Sarah was just messing with him. The truth was that she liked the more traditional names too... and it was so strange to be having this discussion with Abe, with the man she'd never thought would come back into her life. Now, if nothing went wrong with the pregnancy, he'd be part of her life forever.
ABE BROUGHT THE SUV TO A STOP IN FRONT of Sarah's gate, waited until she used the remote she had on her keychain to open it, then drove in. When she pressed the remote a second time to keep the gate from closing behind his SUV, disappointment was a cold, hard lump of stone in his stomach.
"Thank you for dessert." She unclipped her seat belt.
"Hold on." His seat belt already undone, he pushed open his door and jogged around to her side to grab her waist and help her down. His SUV had to be a bit of a monster to comfortably fit his big body; it had a step you had to stand on to climb up and down. Abe didn't need it, but Sarah did, and he didn't want her to trip.
That's a load of bullshit, Abe.
Sarah could handle his SUV. The truth was he hadn't wanted to let her exit the vehicle and leave him, the night over. And he'd wanted to put his hands on her, hold her close. "There," he managed to say, his hands lingering on her waist.
"Thanks." Sarah slipped the strap of her purse over her shoulder and made a small motion as if trying to step back.
Abe forced his fingers to open. "I'll wait until you're inside."
She gave him a faint smile, an unspoken tension between them that hadn't been present over the past couple of hours as they'd teased and played with one another. Something had happened on the drive home; he had no idea what. "You'll call me? If you need anything? Otherwise I'll be here to take you to the doctor at ten."
Sarah separated out her house key from the other things on the fuzzy yellow ball of her keychain. "You really want to come to all the appointments?"
"Yeah, unless it's something female where you don't want me there."
Laughing, the incredible woman who'd been his wife shook her head. "It's all female, Abe." She patted her belly. "I'll call you. If you can't come--"
"I'll be there." No matter what.
CHAPTER 21
ABE MADE SURE HE WAS ON TIME FOR SARAH'S return appointment with Dr. Snyder. Mostly the doctor just took Sarah's vitals, ordered a few more blood tests to check she was healthy in terms of iron and other nutrients, then told her he'd call through a prescription for anything she needed once he had the results.
Abe had intended to pick her up, but she'd messaged for him to meet her at the doctor's office. Appointment over, they stood in the underground parking area under the building, protected from the scorching heat of the LA sun. "You working today?" he asked, taking in the tailored navy-blue dress that screamed professional to him.
A nod. "One of my employees is retiring, so I need to find a replacement.
It's all interviews back-to-back." She glanced at her watch. "First one's in forty-five minutes."
There was so much of Sarah's life he'd missed out on, so much he didn't know about this woman she'd become. "I guess you'd better head out in case you get delayed in traffic," he said, even though he wanted to talk to her.
"Yes, it gets this hot and someone always loses it." Sarah gave him an awkward smile as she slid into the driver's seat, as if she couldn't believe they'd been reduced to talking about LA traffic. It was a favorite topic of locals, but they'd been too much to each other for it to come to this.
Abe gripped the door before she could close it. "You free this coming Saturday?" His heart pounded like that of a teenage boy asking a girl out for the first time.
When Sarah said, "Yes, I think so," he told himself not to celebrate prematurely.
Slipping on her sunglasses, she put her purse on the passenger seat. "Why?"
He curled his fingers over the red metal of her car door, the edge solid under his palm. "I have tickets to the symphony."
"The symphony?" A smile that felt far more real, far more his Sarah. "Let me guess. No one else will go with you?"
He scowled. "Philistines." In actuality, he hadn't ever asked anyone else. He usually liked to go alone, lose himself in the music so different from that which he made but that spoke to him on the same visceral level.
"In the interest of full disclosure," he said, "they're not the best seats and it's a matinee performance--I didn't want to be front and center at the fancy night session." True, except this time around, he'd bought two tickets, and when he'd chosen the seats, he'd placed Sarah's aversion to media interest over his own liking for the front seats where he could stretch out his legs.
Abe couldn't not be a big guy who attracted attention, but the symphony audience was different to Schoolboy Choir's audience. And even if there were rock fans in the crowd, most people didn't expect to see the keyboard player of a hard rock band at the symphony. Especially one wearing a button-down shirt and clean, dark blue jeans. And because they didn't expect it, they didn't make the connection.
Sarah placed her hands on the steering wheel, closed her fingers over it slowly as if she was thinking. His heart boomed a bass counterpoint to his breathing, his blood a roar in his ears.