His Heir, Her Honor (Rich, Rugged And Royal #3)(34)
Author: Catherine Mann

“You’ve done an admirable job in setting up what works best for everyone,” he said, his tone nonjudgmental, another characteristic she liked about him. “Have you told your family about the baby yet?”

“My parents are away on their fifteenth honeymoon.”

“Fifteenth anniversary? I didn’t realize you had a stepparent.”

“No, you heard correctly.” She really didn’t want to think about this now, but she’d demanded so much from him tonight. She owed him the same consideration. “They’re both my biological parents, and it’s their fifteenth honeymoon, not fifteenth anniversary. You’ve heard of couples rekindling the romance with a second honeymoon? Well, my parents are on their fifteenth reconciliation.”

“Sounds like they’ve had a rocky go of it,” he offered up another diplomatic answer.

“That’s putting things mildly.” She sat upright, hugging her knees, all of a sudden weary of dancing around the truth. “My father cheats. My mother forgives him. They go on an elaborately romantic getaway that puts stars back in my mother’s eyes until the next time he strays and the cycle starts all over again.”

His strong arms went around her, muscles twitching with restraint as he held her gently. “They’ve hurt you.”

“In the past? Yes. Now I’m mostly…numb, I guess you could say.” She rested her cheek against his forearm. “When it comes to the two of them, nothing surprises me anymore.”

“That’s why you were so upset when you bumped into Nancy outside my office.”

“And don’t forget the airport.”

He turned off the water and pulled her to her feet in a fluid movement. Facing her dripping wet and naked, water pooling around their toes on the warmed tiles, he stared directly into her eyes. “I may have gone out with her but I never slept with her. You kept getting in the way.”

“What do you mean?” She needed to hear him say it, to spell out every single thought as salve for her wounded ego and hope for her wary heart.

Carlos gripped her shoulders in his broad palms. “She’s a perfectly nice and attractive woman, but she bored the hell out of me because she wasn’t you.”

“You’re just saying that to get into my good graces.” Although right now she wasn’t sure why he would work so hard for that. They were already sleeping together again. And, sure, she hadn’t agreed to his proposals, but they had time now.

“I’m sorry your father has made it difficult for you to trust what I say.” He’d touched too close to the truth, like poking his surgeon finger right into an open wound.

She snatched up a towel from the warming drawer and tucked it tight under her arms. “Don’t put this off on him, and don’t blame it on some hang-up I may have.” She thrust another towel at him, reminded too vividly of when she’d confronted him in the hospital shower. “You are the one who refused to speak to me after the Christmas party.”

“I did what I thought was best for you.” He knotted the towel over one hip.

“Easier for you, you mean.” How had this conversation gone so wrong so fast? Was she sabotaging herself? Scared to take the happiness just an arm’s reach away?

“Then let’s make this right.” He clasped her shoulders again to keep her from racing away from him. “Forget taking any paternity tests. I accept the baby is mine and I want us to be married. Tomorrow. No more waiting. We can have the ceremony performed in my father’s hospital room.”

No paternity test?

He believed her.

Finally, she heard the words she’d been hoping for from the beginning. Almost everything. He hadn’t said he loved her. But then her father threw the word love around like pennies in a fountain. Cheap and easy to come by. Carlos was offering her something far more precious and tangible. He was offering her the truth.

Drawing in a bracing breath, she took the biggest gamble of her life and placed her hand in his. “Call the preacher.” As the words fells from her lips, she tried like hell not to think of the morning after they’d made love for the first time nearly three months ago.

Lilah reached for Carlos, called his name softly as she woke…but her hand found nothing but cool cotton sheets and emptiness on his side of the bed. She might have thought the whole crazy night with him after the fundraiser had been a dream. But her body carried reminders of their impetuous lovemaking, from the tender muscles of her legs after their near acrobatics on his office desk to the scent of chlorine in her hair from his hot tub on the deck of his mountainside home.

How appropriate he should live on a cliff, how in keeping with the edginess of the man himself.

She stretched her arms overhead, her eyes adjusting to the dim room lit only with a few pale streaks of morning sun. Not that she could afford to lounge around. In a Tacoma winter it could be nearly eight in the morning already.

Her toes protesting the chilly hardwood floors, she searched for something more appropriate to wear than a sheet or her evening gown currently crumpled in a corner. She’d kicked the designer dress off and away in her frenzy to be with Carlos again, in his bed, then in the hot tub, before returning to his room, certain she was too exhausted for more. Only to have him prove her wrong.

A smile on her lips, she plucked his tuxedo shirt off the bedside lamp. Apparently she’d thrown his clothes around too. The crisp fabric still carried his scent, stirring her all over again with languid memories of making love until the blend of them together made a sensual perfume.

She found him in his kitchen, another simple room with the bare essentials—stainless steel appliances with black-and-white tiles.

And one hot chef wearing only a low-slung pair of scrubs that showcased his taut butt as perfectly as any tailored tux.

The scent of frying bacon hung in the air as he tended the stove, a second pan in place with batter in a measuring cup.

He pivoted toward her. And with one look at his emotionless eyes, the stark set of his jaw, all the warmth seeped from her. He took in her standing there in his shirt and…nothing. He didn’t smile. He didn’t reach for her.

Carlos simply turned away. “Do you want breakfast?”

She wanted to tell him to go to hell. Instead she said, “I think it’s best if I just go.”

Still, like a fool, she hesitated, giving him a chance to say something softer, nicer. Instead, he just opened the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of milk.