Probably. And, if he was, then her incredible eyes and rocking body and the memories of how good they were together were to blame.
“So, you didn’t call me to try and talk me into a night of hot sex?” Tyce didn’t have to pretend to sound disappointed; the memories of touching, tasting, loving Sage kept him up most nights. He wished he could ring-fence his thoughts so that he only remembered her scent, her soft, creamy skin and the taste on his tongue. But, unfortunately, his mind always wandered off into dangerous territory—how it would feel to wake up to her face in the morning, to hear her soft good night before he slept. He only allowed himself the briefest of fantasies about what a life spent with Sage would look like before he vaporized those thoughts.
Sage was part of a dynamic, successful family and he wasn’t referring to the immense Ballantyne wealth. Sage and her brothers knew what family meant, how to be part of one.
He didn’t have a cookin’ clue. The Ballantyne family, from what he understood, worked as a well-oiled machine, each part of that machine different but essential to the process.
Tyce had been the engine that powered his family along—an engine constantly on the point of breaking down. He’d done his best to provide what Lachlyn needed but had been so damn busy trying to survive that he emotionally neglected his sister. Sage’s life partner would be an emotionally intelligent dude, would be able to slide into the Ballantyne family and know how to be, act, respond... The man who she married would know how to deal with and contribute to the clan.
Tyce wasn’t that man. He’d never be that man and it was stupid to spend more than a minute thinking that he could be.
So, when he’d seen her text message asking him to meet tonight, he’d jumped to the only conclusion that made sense, that she wanted another hookup. During his shower he’d fantasized about how he would take her... Fast or slow? Her on top or him? Either way, the only thing that was nonnegotiable was that he’d be looking in her eyes when she shattered, wanting to see if she needed him as much as he needed her.
Instead of looking soft and dreamy, her eyes blazed with pure blue anger. Right, real life...
“No, Tyce, I didn’t call you because I wanted hot sex.” Sage answered him in a dry, sarcastic voice.
Tyce took a sip of his whiskey, the urge to tease fleeing. Did she suddenly look nervous? He lifted his eyebrows until Sage spoke. “But I did—do—have something to tell you.”
Tyce looked around the room while he rubbed his jaw, his gut screaming that whatever she had to say was going to rock his world. He didn’t want his world rocked, he just wanted to either have sex with Sage or to go home and paint. Since sex wasn’t happening, he itched to slap oil onto canvas, eager to work his frustration out with slashes of indigo and Indian red, manganese violet and magenta. “Just spit it out and get it done.” Tyce snapped out the words, his tone harsh.
Sage blew air out over her lips and briefly closed her eyes. When they opened again, he saw her resolve. And when she finally formed the words, they shifted his world.
“I don’t expect anything from you, not money or time or involvement. But you should know that I am pregnant and the baby is yours.”
Tyce was still trying to make sense of her words, trying to decipher them, when Sage placed a swift, final kiss to the left of his mouth. “Goodbye, Tyce. It was...fun. Except when it wasn’t.”
* * *
Sage, having said what she needed to, took advantage of his astonishment and stood up. She was about to pick up her clutch and leave when his hand shot out and gripped her wrist.
When she looked at him she noticed that his eyes were pure black fire. “Sit. Stay.”
Those eyes, God, they still had the power to dissolve her knees. Eyes of a warrior, Sage thought. Because he made her feel off-kilter, she handed him a cool look. “I am not a puppy you are trying to train.”
Tyce gripped his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “God, Sage, just give me a sec, okay? You’ve just told me that you’re pregnant. I need a goddamn minute! So, yeah, sit your ass down, okay?”
Hearing the note of panic in Tyce’s voice, Sage slid back onto the high barstool and crossed her legs. She listened as Tyce ordered another whiskey from the bartender and watched the color seep slowly back into his face.
“We need to...” she began.
Tyce shook his head and held up his hand to stop her talking. “Another drink and some more time.”
Sage nodded and leaned back in her chair, a little relieved that she’d told him, that it was finally done. It had taken every gram of courage she possessed to send that text message asking him to meet, and she’d known that he’d think she was looking for another one-night stand. Could she blame him? Their entire relationship had been based around their physical attraction and he was a guy... Of course he’d think she just wanted sex.
But their crazy chemistry had led to a very big consequence...
Sage rolled her head, trying to loosen the tension in her neck. She’d sit here, let him take the time he needed for the news to sink in and after what she hoped would be a drama-free conversation, she’d leave. Then she could put him and their brief roller coaster—What should she call it? Fling? Affair? Madness?—behind her.
God, though it had been brief, their time together had been intense. They’d met at the opening of a small gallery around the corner from her apartment and the attraction between them sizzled. Sage would like to blame that on his mixed heritage, Korean and French, on his dark Asian eyes, square chin and blinding smile, and his tall, muscled body. But she’d grown up surrounded by good-looking men and looks didn’t impress her much. No, it was Tyce’s stillness, his control and his aura of elusiveness, and unavailability, that attracted her.
Tyce had told her, straight up and straightaway, that he wanted to sleep with her but that he wasn’t the settle-down, buy-her-flowers type. They could hang, enjoy each other, but she shouldn’t expect anything more from him. She appreciated his up-front attitude and it soon dawned on her that she was drawn to a younger, darker, less chatty version of her beloved uncle Connor. Connor had been utterly devoted to his adopted kids, had looked after his employees and had been a hardworking, focused businessman, but a monogamous, committed relationship never featured on Connor’s list of priorities. Trying to pin men like Connor and Tyce down was like trying to capture smoke in a sieve.
And maybe she’d found Tyce a little more attractive because she knew he would never offer her the very thing that scared her the most: an emotionally intimate relationship. She’d been the apple of her parents’ eye, the baby girl who had her entire family wrapped around her finger, loved and adored until she woke up one morning and heard that the biggest part of her life was gone and wasn’t ever coming back.
She’d avoided relationships outside of the people who lived in Connor’s iconic brownstone fondly referred to as The Den—her brothers, Connor, and Jo, Linc’s mom and the woman Connor hired to help him raise three orphans. She had girlfriends she enjoyed but whom she kept at an arm’s length, and she wasn’t much of a dater.
Tyce had been hard to resist. Sage had been in love with his art for years. His work was detailed and exquisite, full of angst and emotion. From their first meeting, admiration and attraction swirled and whirled and she’d quickly said yes when he suggested dinner. They didn’t make it to a restaurant; instead they’d tumbled into bed and Sage finally understood the power of addiction. She craved Tyce with a ferocity that scared her.
After six weeks of fantastic sex, Sage realized she was on the brink of falling in love with Tyce and couldn’t, wouldn’t allow that to happen. Terrified, she did what she did best, she made plans to run and immediately booked a ticket to Hong Kong, telling her brothers that their Asian clients needed her attention. The day before her scheduled flight to Asia, Connor passed away and her entire world changed. Connor’s death allowed her to put the distance between her and Tyce