His hands came down on my shoulders, gentle but firm, and set me ablaze. I sucked in a deep breath as I felt hot white lust burn from somewhere deep in my center and pool just below my abdomen. The same thing had happened once before…but I tried not to think about that moment. I wanted to step away from him, wanted to go about my business like he hadn’t come into the room at all. He was so still. What would I see in his eyes if I turned around? Did he know how my body was betraying me, how turned on I was just by the sight of him, by the feel of his touch on my body?
It is the hormones, I told myself. All the books said that all the extra blood flow that pregnancy created led to a heightened sense of sexual arousal. That is all it is, right?
But a part of me knew that wasn’t true, either. I wanted him with a desperation that was new to me, and I was helpless against it. Slowly, he turned me around till I was facing him. I stared at the spot between his shoulder and neck and wondered what it would feel like to run my hands over the muscles there. I could feel my chest tightening, and I was beginning to have trouble catching my breath.
The sound of the coffee percolating through the machine and—more importantly—the smell that wafted through the air brought me back to my senses. I jerked away from his touch, marching out of the kitchen to my tiny bedroom, dashing into the bathroom before he could say a word.
I couldn’t do this. I needed to get him out of my apartment.
“Ana?” he called through the closed door. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” I called, as I turned on the water and splashed my face.
It crossed my mind to call the police. I had my cellphone in my skirt pocket. But then I realized that Nicolas had a contract I signed that gave him rights to this baby. Any cop in his right mind would never get between a man and what was rightfully his. I could claim the baby wasn’t his, but an amniocentesis could prove it was, and I wasn’t about to put this baby in a position in which it would have to endure such an invasive procedure. I’ve watched plenty of reality television and I’ve seen the needles they used to draw the amniotic fluid out of the uterus. I’m not afraid of needles, but that one kind of freaked me out.
That left me with few, if any, options.
I stepped out of the bathroom and practically walked into his chest. He was right there, in the middle of my bedroom. My bed, in all its unmade glory, was just a foot to his left. Could this be any more awkward?
“Ana?” He touched my face with the back of two fingers. “You’re pale.”
“It’s not every day the father of my baby shows up on my doorstep and demands to talk to me.”
“Yes, well, it’s not every day the surrogate carrying my child disappears without telling me the procedure worked.”
“How did you find out?”
He shrugged. “A private detective. It didn’t take much for him to track you down, or for your frequent visits to the obstetrics clinic, or pictures of your growing belly to express the obvious.”
“Why would you track me down if you didn’t know about the baby?”
His eyes dropped from my face briefly. “I had my reasons.”
I felt a little bit of a cold chill wash down my spine at the same time my lower belly began to smolder again. I was afraid I knew what he was talking about, and I really didn’t want to entertain what that might mean.
His eyes came back up to mine again, and I wanted to fall into them. He was so handsome! I would have to be inhuman to be able to resist his charms. The memory of his lips on mine was still so strong that it might have happened this morning instead of more than three months ago. My lips remembered that touch; my skin remembered the touch of his hands on my back, my ribs…I so wanted him to touch me again. And then I remembered the way he pushed me away that afternoon and the shame that rushed over me when I realized that I’d allowed myself to fall into the arms of not only a married man, but the man married to a woman I was quickly considering my friend.
I started to walk around him, needing to put space between us. He grabbed my arm and—thanks to that growing baby bump—I lost my balance and fell against his chest. His hands came around me, pressing against the small of my back, forcing me forward just enough that my distended belly pressed against his pelvis.
“It’s so firm,” he said, a touch of wonder in his voice. He stared down at my belly, his hand coming around to touch the side of it. A lot of women are embarrassed by their growing baby bumps, but I was proud of mine. However, having Nicolas touch me made me conscious of myself in a way I hadn’t been before.
I tried to back away again, but he was still holding me with one arm around my waist, his hand pressed to the small of my back. He pulled me close to him again, his free hand sliding over my belly to cup the very top curve of the bump.
“The baby’s about the size of an apple now. Did you know that?”
I nodded. I had an app on my phone that told me each week how big the baby was and what I should be experiencing as far as symptoms went.
“It’s amazing to think you have an entire human being growing inside of you,” he said, awe and grief mixed in his voice.
It was the first thing he’d ever said that I whole heartedly agreed with.
I pressed my hand to the top of his, both stilling it from moving any further along the curve of my abdomen and to offer some sort of comfort. I wondered if he was thinking about Aurora. She’d only been gone a little less than three months, just a week and a few days less than my mom. I wondered if he’d grieved the way I had. As I still did. But, somehow, I doubted it.
“You’ve been seeing a doctor, right? Everything’s okay?”
“Everything’s right on track.”
“Do you know what it is?”
I shook my head. “I’m supposed to get a sonogram in a month that should show the sex. But I haven’t decided yet if I want to know.”
“I do,” he said. “It’d make it much easier to prepare the nursery.”
And with that, my desire to comfort him was gone. I pulled away and again tried to move around him. This time he let me go.
He followed me into the living room, but instead of sitting back in the armchair he’d abandoned earlier, he gestured toward the kitchen. “Do you mind?” he asked, reminding me of the fresh brewed coffee.
“Go ahead. The mugs are in the cupboard above the sink.”
I settled on the couch, as he rummaged around for the cup he wanted, then poured himself a steamy portion of coffee. I could still smell the overpowering aroma, but it didn’t bother me as much now as it had when it was first brewing. It was like my nose had to get used to an unfortunate scent before it signaled my brain that this wasn’t something that should cause my lunch to come back up for an encore.
He drank more than half the mug as he stood at the sink. I watched his throat muscles move as he did, wondering how he could stand the scalding heat. However, when he lowered the cup and moved to pour more, I could see the exhaustion that left shadows around his dark eyes. It reminded me of the many restless, nightmare filled nights I’d had since my mother died. I wondered if the same thing haunted his nights since Aurora’s death.
He came around the narrow counter that separated the kitchen from the living room and settled again in the armchair. He glanced at me, his eyes finding my belly again, as though he couldn’t quite make himself believe it was real.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“My mother died,” I said, surprised at how quickly tears rushed to my eyes at the mention of that dark, horrible moment in my life. “It happened just two days after the procedure.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, a sincerity in his eyes that made me believe the sentiment was real. Then his eyes fell to the floor. “And, I suppose, I didn’t give you much reason to trust me, especially after what happened the last time we saw each other.”
I blushed as the memory of that afternoon burst through my mind, as though it had been waiting at the edge of my mind for just this opportunity to shine on
ce again.
I’d stopped by their house at Aurora’s request. It was a day before the implantation appointment. She’d called me at lunch time, overcome with excitement because the doctor had just called to let her know the eggs she’d donated days before had successfully been fertilized with Nicolas’ sperm and were dividing at the appropriate rate. The doctor felt they would be ideal for the procedure that was already scheduled. Aurora wanted to celebrate, but she was apparently alone. So, she invited me over to have dinner with her and talk about this tiny human being that had yet to be inserted into my body. I was excited, too. The idea of creating life when my mother was facing such a dark period in her life had seemed like a nice distraction. But when I arrived at the house, Nicolas was there alone.
***
“Aurora went out,” he said quite briskly, as he let me into the house. “But if she invited you over…”
“Maybe she forgot.”
“That wouldn’t surprise me. She’s done that a lot lately.”
Nicolas walked to a nice bar set in the corner of his living room, pouring himself a healthy slug of brandy. As I watched, I couldn’t help but think that Constance would have to wash that glass in the morning.
“Do you want some? Might be your last chance.”
I smiled as the thought of the soon to be baby crossed my mind again. “No. I’ve never been much of a drinker.”
“I never used to be, either.”
He swallowed the drink he’d just poured himself and turned to the bar as though he was going to pour himself more. But then he pushed away from the bar and turned to me. His eyes were dark and smoldering, as though he was thinking thoughts that were too deep to be expressed in anything as simple as a general expression. And then he crossed to me and caught me by surprise by setting his hands on my shoulders.
There had been a sort of smoldering attraction between us from the first moment we met. The way he looked at me, the way he asked me questions about this process, about my life, and how having a baby for someone else would change my life. He’d never done anything inappropriate, but there was something there, just under the surface, that I’d been unable to ignore. I thought it was just me, just the way I felt as if I knew him because of Constance’s stories of him, the way his face was familiar because of the many pictures I’d seen of him over the years. I had thought that it couldn’t be anything more than that. But now…
“Ana,” he murmured in a sexy voice that’d kept me up almost every night since the first time we met, “you feel it too, don’t you?”
I didn’t know how to answer. I was afraid he was talking about something complete innocent and I would make a fool of myself if I answered that I wanted him, too. Then, I looked up and met his eyes, and I was nearly singed by the heat I saw in their depths. We stared at each other in silence, neither saying a word, yet each communicating in a manner that was as old and as ancient as the mountains.
One of his hands moved and cupped my breast. I let out a gasp, both because of the pleasure that shot through me and shock that he would want to touch me in such a way. I felt like I was on fire. I should have slapped him, or pushed him away. He was a stranger to me in the most basic way. Yet, I felt like we’d known each other for ages. And so, even though I knew it was a mistake, I held myself still, waiting for his next move.
His eyes still on mine, he rubbed the pad of this thumb over my nipple slowly, and it grew even harder than before—impossibly hard. Even though I didn’t want to want this man, my body was doing its best to broadcast a totally different message. A more honest message.
Then, slowly, giving me enough time to retreat if I wanted to, he drew me to him at the same time he lowered his head and kissed me. It was not like any kiss I’d ever experienced before. There was none of that tentative getting-to-know-you stuff that first kisses seemed to be made of. Nicolas’s kiss was hot and wild and so passionate that I immediately went up in flames.
I opened my mouth and he slipped his tongue in, and I began to tremble from the curiosity that spoke volumes in his movements. My whole body was responding to this man, and I was lost. I pushed my body against him and sank my hands in his hair. He had one hand on my butt, holding me closer to him, and I could feel the heat of his erection pressing against my belly. It was driving me wild.
He broke the kiss and I heard myself whimper in protest. Why did he stop? Then, he began to trail kisses down the side of my neck. I moved my mouth against the column of his neck, using my tongue to taste him, and felt him shudder. I couldn’t believe that I was having such an effect on this powerful, sexy man.
“I want to feel you,” he murmured against my skin.
“I want that, too,” I whispered.
The sensations going through my body were nothing like I’d ever known before. I couldn’t seem to get enough of him and, guessing from the smile on his face, he knew it. But the look in his eyes told me he couldn’t get enough of me, either.
Suddenly, he picked me up and carried me across the room, balancing me on the low edge of the corner bar. He stood between my parted legs and cupped my breasts, gently massaging them, paying particular attention to the hard nipples. My head began to spin as my thighs shook. My breasts were so sensitive and his hands so skillful that I moaned deep in my throat.
“Oh, Nicolas, I like that,” I gasped out.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice raspy.
It all seemed so surreal. It couldn’t be real, could it? This was Nicolas Costa, billionaire director and husband to Hollywood screen goddess, Aurora Parker…Aurora. With that, I suddenly remembered that the man touching me, the man making me feel things I had never felt before, was a married man. Not only that, but this married man was the father of the embryo that would be inserted into my uterus first thing tomorrow morning. I felt such disgust for myself that I was sure it was seeping from my pores.
Nicolas was kissing me again, and I could feel myself melting into a puddle. I began to panic. I needed to do something before I grabbed him and kissed him back like I so badly wanted to do. I wanted to slip my tongue inside his mouth and kiss him with all I had. I wanted to feel his hands all over my body and his mouth everywhere his hands had been. I wanted to… I bit down hard on his lip.
“Ouch!” He jerked back, his finger pressed to his lip. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Get off me, you bastard!”
Chapter 4
It was official, I had finally gotten in touch with my inner slut. At least that was how I felt as I ran out of Nicolas and Aurora’s house.
Kelly, my best friend, would have been so proud if I’d told her about it. Kelly and I are so different that it’s amazing we’re friends at all. Kelly is a flight attendant who looks like a lingerie model. All those clichés about models? That’s Kelly in a nutshell. I, on the other hand—after that debacle with my college boyfriend, Travis—decided I was done with relationships. Besides, there was my mom. But when Nicolas touched me, everything I thought I was just flew out the window. I do not do casual sex. Ever. I’m just not like that. Oh, and my mom was a strict Catholic, which only made things worse. I have only ever had sex with two men in my entire life. Kelly insists that I’m basically a virgin since one of those times was a brief, in-the-backseat-of-his-dad’s-car encounter that lasted all of three minutes. Yet, Nicolas made me feel like everything I’ve experienced before was nothing compared to the magic he could bring into my life.
And having him here, in my tiny apartment, made all those feelings come back.
“I think about that night a lot,” he said quietly, leaning forward as he cupped his coffee cup in both hands. “I meant to apologize to you, but the next day…it just seemed inappropriate to do it as the doctor was inserting the embryos into…” He gestured toward me, a little color making his naturally dark skin look even darker. “And then you disappeared.”
“Aurora died.”
He nodded, his eyes dropping to his mug. “Yeah. That was a shock to a lot of people.”
“But not you?”
Something about the way he said it made me wonder about the rumors that floated around in the weeks after her death that Nicolas had something to do with it. A lot of Aurora’s fans suggested that Nicolas had someone slip drugs into her food that night—as it clearly and unequivocally was proven by the autopsy that Aurora died of a cocaine overdose. But then a slice of pain rushed across his face, and I knew instinctively that he would never do such a thing.
“I knew my wife better than almost anyone. And I knew that she was a brilliant actress who showed the world a façade that covered secrets no one could ever imagine.”
“Like drug use.”
“Like the fact that the night she died was not the first time she overdosed on some sort of drug.”
That surprised me. I hadn’t known Aurora long, or very well, but she always seemed like a strong, confident woman. I curled up against the arm of the couch and tried to remember something, anything, in my encounters with her that would suggest she was a woman in the throes of a bad drug habit. But I couldn’t think of a single one.
Nicolas stood, setting his coffee—which was empty once more—on a low table and crossed to the windows. He turned away from me and stared outside. I had a sudden hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach. I thought for a moment I might be sick. He must have glanced at me…I don’t know. I was clutching my middle, trying to fight the unpleasant waves rushing through my stomach. And then he was beside me, his hand between my shoulder blades. I looked at him and felt my heart skip a beat.
“The last time I touched Aurora was more than a year ago.”
I stared at him, not sure what it was he was trying to tell me.
“But you were trying to have a baby. She told me. She said you wanted a child, that you thought it would complete your family. But she couldn’t carry one because of a heart defect or something.”
“There was no heart defect. She just didn’t want to ruin her perfect figure.”
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