by Dani Collins
He’d had to spare a moment to dig through his luggage for a condom, though. He had an allergy, so he used nonlatex. He’d been told years before that they weren’t as reliable, but he’d never had one break. The one he’d used that night had probably been expired, now he came to think of it. He hadn’t bothered to check; he’d been so single-minded about getting back to her.
She’d been delightfully emboldened when he joined her, both of them hurriedly stripping each other between kisses.
“It’s okay if I don’t come again,” she’d whispered against his mouth while they knelt on the bed, kissing and caressing. Her touch across his back while her breasts grazed his chest had made him want to close his eyes and savor the dual sensations. “I just want to feel you inside me.”
“Oh, blossom. I can do better than that. This is supposed to be the best sex of your life.” The play of his fingers in the dip of her lower back had made her shiver and catch her breath.
“The bar was low. This is already the best ever.”
That playfulness amid the passion was unique to him. He’d found it as compelling as the rest and had thrown himself into worshipping her soft skin and pert nipples and quivering stomach, her tender thighs and the honeyed place between.
He squeezed himself again, throbbing at the memory of pressing her onto her back and rising over her. All the play had stopped then because thrusting into her had been all-encompassing. Profound.
If he’d had the discipline, he would have made love to her all night, the act of slowly pumping into her had been so intense and delectable. He wasn’t superhuman, however, and it had been all he could do to wait for her.
He hadn’t been so mindless that he hadn’t felt the condom break when he’d picked up speed in his final strokes, though. He recalled exactly that flash of realization as it was happening. They’d both been on the verge of a powerful, mutual orgasm. It wasn’t just his pleasure he would have curtailed, but hers.
He’d let desire override him and gave a last thrust that caused them both to hit their culmination. It had been spectacular. The most intense climax of his life, tearing a shout of gratification from him. The sensation of her wet heat squeezing his naked flesh had taken him to even loftier heights.
Had that moment of ecstasy been worth the consequence? He could rationalize all he wanted that he hadn’t believed there could be any consequence. He knew his own health was good and hadn’t had any concerns about Ivy’s. The truth was, however, he could have pulled out and he hadn’t. He had allowed this pregnancy to happen.
In fact, he’d damned near ensured it. A few minutes later, when he had told Ivy what had happened, she’d asked if she should visit a pharmacy.
“Don’t worry. I’ve had a vasectomy.”
“Really?”
He’d heard the curiosity in her question but had only said, “It’s not something I advertise. I’d rather you kept it to yourself.”
“Of course.”
They’d dozed, and when she’d risen to use the bathroom a while later, he had urged, “Stay the night. I have to leave early, but order room service when you wake. Use the spa.”
She did stay but didn’t add anything to his bill. When she had rejoined him in bed, he’d asked if he should use another condom.
“What’s the point?” she’d asked ruefully.
He’d taken that as license to go without, and this was the result.
He looked across at the shadowed shape of her beneath the covers.
There’d been so many moments when he could have made more sensible choices and hadn’t. He would love to blame her for that, but it was all on him. He’d discarded his normal sense of caution and adherence to duty for sex. Really great sex, sure, but at what cost?
It added another layer to his sense of accountability. They had had sex, but he had made that baby. There was no question that he would take responsibility for both of them.
CHAPTER FIVE
IVY GRADUALLY BECAME aware of Jun Li speaking to a woman in muted tones. Dishes softly clanked. They were on the terrace, she deduced as she crept toward wakefulness. The noises were drifting in with the scent of fresh morning air, coffee and eggs.
She would love coffee, but she was settling for tea these days, usually herbal. She’d kill for a cup of orange pekoe, though.
She stretched and rolled onto her back, aware of a lingering lassitude that made waking in such a comfortable bed pure hedonism. She couldn’t remember when she’d last slept so hard and woken this content. Probably the morning after—
Oh no. A ballooning horror gripped her as she recalled what had happened in the middle of the night. Please let it be a dream. Please.
It wasn’t. She swallowed a groan of chagrin and brought her knees up as she rolled to bury her stinging face in the pillows. She wanted to die. To draw the covers over her head and stay in this bed forever.
She would have if she hadn’t needed the bathroom so pressingly.
With a whimper, she lifted her head to ensure no one was around. Damn him, Jun Li had thoughtfully left a silk robe with a cherry blossom print on the foot of the bed.
She snagged it on her way to the bathroom. Why, why, why had she thrown herself at him like that? She’d practically attacked him!
In the bathroom, a brand-new toothbrush sat beside the sink along with geranium-scented shampoo, conditioner and body wash.
Ivy used the toothbrush then took the rest into the shower, mostly to put off seeing him. The warm rain from the sunflower head washed the dullness from her brain but none of the ignominy from her conscience. After drying off, she combed out her wet hair and moisturized every inch of her body with a luxurious green tea and lemongrass–scented lotion until she had run out of excuses to avoid him.
Also, she was starving.
Which didn’t mean joining him on the terrace was easy. No, it might only be three steps to the table, but it was a mile-long walk of shame.
“Good morning.” He wasn’t openly smug, but he watched her with a morning-after acknowledgment of intimacy that he hadn’t hung around long enough in Vancouver to let her witness.
“Thank you for this,” she murmured of the robe, hyperaware that she was naked beneath it.
“More clothes are being delivered. I wanted to let you sleep, but I didn’t want you to have to come looking for me amid the crowd.”
Crowd? “I have clothes. Don’t I? I thought my luggage arrived last night.”
“Your things are in the closet, but you’ll need a full wardrobe. Twice, I’m told, since maternity wear is its own thing.” His attention swept down to where the lapels of the robe exposed her upper chest. “I’ve been reading about how a woman’s body changes during pregnancy. It’s remarkable.”
Still worried that her orgasm had harmed the baby?
“I packed maternity wear. I didn’t wear my dress last night because it kind of gave the game away.”
She accepted the plate he uncovered. It held peeled and halved boiled eggs with grilled avocado, cherry tomatoes, a bowl of tropical fruit, a side of subtly spiced noodles and a small banana. She would never get through it all, but she was hungry enough to give it a shot.
“You’ll need more than one dress. The delivery is all ready-to-wear, but my mother is looking forward to introducing you to some of her favorite designers.”
“You told your mother about the baby?” She nearly bobbled the plate and set it down with a clack. “I was going to tell my father when I got home. She won’t post it online, will she?”
“No. I was going to do that as soon as I asked you if there was anyone you needed to notify first. We’ll call your father after breakfast.” He glanced at his watch. “Before it gets too late there. Is he well? Can he travel within the week?”
“To where?” Her nerveless fingers lost control over her chopsticks and sent a cherry tomato rolling
.
“Shanghai.” He neatly caught it as it fell off the table. “For our wedding.” He popped it into his mouth and chewed. “Next Friday.”
“I told you I won’t marry you!” Last night began to seem like an even bigger mistake than it obviously was. Had he read it as some sort of capitulation?
“Marriage is the most practical solution.”
“For you.”
He had started to pick up his coffee but set it down again. “I had hoped once you slept on it, you’d see the advantages to you as well.” The way his gaze flashed into hers said, I remember everything.
The great big lumbering elephant she’d been trying to ignore was suddenly tapping her shoulder with its trunk.
Ivy blushed. Hard.
“Just to be clear, I will never see my child as something that should provide me advantages. Certainly not material ones like a wealthy husband. Marrying up has never been a goal of mine. I won’t use my baby to do it.”
“I thought when couples fought over money, it was because there wasn’t enough. If I were middle-class, would you accept? Are you suggesting I divest of a few zeroes to earn your hand?”
“I’m saying you wouldn’t be asking for my hand if I wasn’t pregnant.” She pinched a bite of mango and ate it.
“I wasn’t going to marry anyone. Don’t take it personally.”
She snorted. “It feels personal when you’re asking me to marry you and I know it’s the last thing you want. At least tell me why you were avoiding it.”
“It simply isn’t—wasn’t—” he corrected “—something I wanted for myself. I’m already responsible for hundreds of projects, thousands of jobs and billions of dollars. I respect how hard my parents worked to build what I manage today, but I never wanted to put this much responsibility onto my own child. I...” His cheek ticked, and he stole a moment to sip his coffee before admitting, “I had a scare with a fellow student my last year of high school.”
“You got someone pregnant?”
His fingertip tapped his cup before he said flatly, “No. But for a short while I believed I had.”
Ivy stopped eating and watched his gaze focus on the skies over a distant horizon.
“A fellow student?”
“Yes. My first relationship. First time living alone. I wasn’t nearly mature enough to become a father. When she told me, I was terrified. I called home to tell my parents but didn’t get a chance. My father’s health had taken a downturn. The semester was almost finished, so I said I’d be home soon within a couple of weeks, but I didn’t know what I was going to do.”
“Was it a false alarm?”
“No. She was pregnant, but it wasn’t mine. When I asked her to come to China with me to meet my parents, she confessed there was another man in the picture. He was her manager at the fast food place where she worked after school. He was a few years older, engaged to another woman. He had told her to pretend it was mine because he didn’t want it, and look at all the money I had. It was such a mess.” He used a light tone that dismissed the whole thing as the hijinks of youth.
Ivy wanted to take his hand and say Don’t do that. “It was your first love. You must have been crushed.”
His face hardened beneath the stubbornly impassive expression he was maintaining. “The not knowing whether it was mine was torture. Lucky me, I had the kind of money to pay for a high-quality paternity test. When we learned I wasn’t the father, she went away to stay with relatives.”
“Why do I get the feeling you’re still wondering if you should have married her anyway?” she asked gently, but with a pang behind her breastbone for the intense young man he must have been.
“She cheated and that’s hard to forgive, but she was a child, same as me. That other guy was old enough to know better,” he muttered.
“He was her boss.”
“That too.” His lip curled in disgust. He sat up straighter, giving a small shrug as if divesting himself of the past. “The whole thing left me furious and disillusioned. I had been prepared to cut my education short to become a husband and father. I felt manipulated and realized what a target I had become because of our wealth. How vulnerable I would be if I had a child.”
Those sobering words made her hear again You can’t wander. I have guards. Was that why he was so adamant they marry? He was worried about them?
“My father was still ill, and I was facing the formidable task of taking over from him sooner or later. Of course, my parents have always expected me to marry and have a child someday, but I couldn’t see a time when I would be prepared to take on a family when I had so much to shoulder as it was. I couldn’t see wanting to put that burden onto my own flesh and blood. When I got to university, I had a student doctor perform the procedure.”
She quirked a brow. “I have to ask. Are you sure it was done correctly?”
“Fair,” he snorted. “Given my age, he used a technique that was supposed to be reversible, but I did the tests afterward. Every year, for the first while. I only fell down on it the last few years because I’ve been busy with work and thought... Well, we’ve seen what happens when we get complacent, haven’t we?”
“I’m still surprised.” By all of it. “I’m shocked you believed me enough to get tested, given you went through all that.”
“You were too upset not to take you seriously,” he said soberly. “And I had to know. Please don’t mention any of this to my parents, though. I never told them about the scare.”
“Of course not. How long had you been in Canada when it happened? You said it was your first time living alone.” Had he been sowing the wild oats of a young man away from home for the first time?
“Six, almost seven years.”
“Oh. Wow. Most of the foreign students I know didn’t come over until they were fifteen or sixteen. You were ten?”
“Eleven. When the opportunity came up to send me to Canada, my parents jumped on it. They could barely afford the payments, but they didn’t know how long the window would be open. It began as a way for me to learn English, but as their fortunes grew, I was able to help with their early investments there.”
“Like Kevin’s house?”
“Exactly. Many eggs, many baskets, has always been my father’s philosophy. And my time there allowed me to take advantage of a fast track to permanent residency.”
So much for dangling that as an incentive to live with her in Canada.
“But you weren’t happy there,” she recalled from last night.
“No.” He dropped his gaze, giving her the impression he was not telling her the whole truth when he said, “I was young to be sent around the world away from my parents. I thought it would be an adventure, but the culture shock was enormous.” His cheek ticked as though he was revisiting a difficult memory. “After I was getting As in English, I could have told them I didn’t want to go, but I knew how hard they had worked to give me that advantage. My father is in pain every day of his life. My mother spent years away from her own family. Surely I could handle a bit of rain and birthday parties without my cousins if it meant I could provide all of us more options later.”
“You were homesick,” she realized.
“It lessened over time, but...” He shrugged it off. “I knew Canada would never be my home, so I didn’t allow it to feel like one. It was a place where I worked, preparing myself to take over from my father. The day you and I spent together was probably the most carefree I have ever been in that city. I still feel a dereliction of duty over it.”
“I can’t tell if that’s a compliment or a complaint.”
“It’s a concern. I can’t bring myself to complain.” His gaze heated, and she blushed.
Last night’s passion was suddenly here between them again, but the housekeeper appeared with freshly squeezed juice for Ivy and an apology that she directed at Jun Li.
“Your
assistant asks if you have read his text? He says it’s urgent.”
Jun Li made a face and picked up the buzzing phone he’d been ignoring. He tapped the screen, read, then said, “Hmm. Your father is receiving inquiries from the press. When you didn’t answer his calls or texts, he tried to reach you at the hotel. He was told you checked out, but you haven’t notified him where you’ve gone, so he has threatened the hotel manager with a call to the Canadian Embassy if he doesn’t hear from you soon.” He withdrew Ivy’s phone from his shirt pocket. “My bad. I turned it off so it wouldn’t wake you.”
Ivy stared at her phone as if he was pointing a loaded weapon at her.
“What am I supposed to tell him?”
* * *
Jun Li suggested she get dressed first and took her to see the clothes he’d had delivered to the basement.
Ivy came down the stairs to a big, comfortable lounge with an overstuffed sectional that faced a big screen. A wet bar was tucked into a corner on the far side of a pool table.
The top half of one wall was glass that looked onto the bottom of the pool, allowing the sunshine beaming into the water to bounce in and leave patterns on the floor. When she washed her hands at the sink in the powder room, instead of seeing herself in a mirror, she could wave at whoever was swimming.
A child would find that infinitely amusing—and probably wash their hands more often, Ivy thought wryly.
This home was actually a work of art, and she was falling in love with it by the second.
She glanced into a fully stocked gym on her way to the other spare bedroom, which had been filled with racks of clothes. Jun Li was already sifting through the selection.
Ivy normally hated salespeople trying to guess what she might like. It felt especially strange to have Jun Li hold things up to her and replace them on the rack before she could decide one way or another.
“Do you want me to look a certain way?” she asked with indignation.
“No,” he said with absent surprise. “Pick whatever you like. I just like shopping. It’s my vice. In high school, I didn’t go to parties. If I wanted to be around people, I went to the mall.”