Page 34 of Consequences of Their Wedding Charade
‘There’s no need to put yourself out, Curtis!’
‘I’m already on my way.’ He was. ‘Where do you want to go for dinner?’ He felt energised.
‘Nowhere!’
‘All the better,’ he murmured smoothly. ‘I get sick of eating out. Home cooking is so much better. Maybe I’ll get William to give me a few lessons on the basics some time—he threatens to do it often enough. Would make an old man happy...’ He was out of his office, barely glancing in the direction of all the worker bees still hard at it at their desks, including his extremely efficient middle-aged PA. He winked at her, mouthed that he would see her in the morning maybe...and then he was sprinting for the lift.
Jess realised that he’d hung up on her before she’d had time to fix another more timely date for them to meet. A date that would give her sufficient breathing space to get her thoughts in order and brace herself for a conversation she’d never dreamt she would ever have with him.
Instead, at a little after five-fifteen, she flew into action. Shower, change into jeans and a long-sleeve T-shirt...and then a mad dash to gather up all the ingredients she would need for an unwelcome dinnerà deux. It wouldn’t be the first time Curtis had had a meal at her house. That said, it was the first time she’d felt sick with nerves whilst preparing a meal. Pasta. Tomatoes and some mushrooms. Exactly what she had planned to have for herself, so she just had to double the quantity.
It felt as though ten minutes had passed when she heard the sharp buzz of her doorbell. She flew to the door and pulled it open and there he was. Six foot three of unfairly gorgeous masculine beauty. She breathed in sharply and stood aside to allow him to sweep past her.
He brought the cold in with him, along with a bottle of wine, which he handed to her before divesting himself of his coat and making his way into her kitchen, as comfortable in his surroundings as though he lived there.
Her heart was thumping so hard she felt faint. He’d always had that peculiar ability to somehow consume all the oxygen, until she felt she couldn’t breathe, but never was she more conscious of that than now.
‘There was no need for you to rush over here, Curtis.’
‘Why are you looking so tense? Glass of wine?’
‘Er...no, thank you.’
‘Let’s go relax in the sitting room.’ He moved towards the door, having helped himself to some wine from the bottle he brought and glanced over his shoulder at her, grinning. ‘Where have you been, Jess? Tried calling you a couple of times. Sure you won’t join me in a glass? No one likes to drink alone.’
‘I’ve been busy,’ she muttered, already feeling helplessly in thrall to him and incapable of thinking straight. ‘And no, thanks.’
He frowned. ‘What’s the point of an injection of cash if they’re still slave-driving you into more fundraising?’
‘I haven’t been fundraising. I’ve been catching up on work and preparing the kids for their next batch of exams.’ He’d perched on the deep, comfortable sofa and now looked at her with a veiled expression, his head tilted to one side. Expecting what? she wondered. Expecting her to have relented on his proposal, she guessed, because he was just too tempting to resist. Why else would he have rushed all the way up here?
To forestall a conversation that would lead nowhere, she cleared her throat and perched on the chair facing him.
She rested her hands on her knees and thought about that tiny beating heart inside her. It had not crossed her mind even for a second that she might not keep this baby and now she felt a flutter of excitement, against all odds.
He didn’t say anything. He was quite still, his green eyes penetrating.
‘Curtis...about what happened when we were away together a few weeks ago...’
He relaxed and smiled. ‘Yes?’ he prompted softly.
‘You remember when we...when...?’
‘When we made love?’ His smile broadened and there was dark, lazy appreciation in his eyes that sent a wave of longing rushing through her with toxic potency. ‘Unforgettable,’ he added huskily.
‘I had never...done it before...’
‘I haven’t forgotten.’ His voice was unsteady in recollection. ‘Believe me, it’s imprinted in my memory banks with the force of a red-hot branding iron. Come sit by me, Jess...’
‘You fumbled.’
‘Come again?’
‘It was a shock. You were caught on the back foot for a few seconds. You...fumbled...’
‘Maybe I did. We all have our moments.’
‘Curtis, the protection you used wasn’t as foolproof as maybe you thought it was.’
