His dark hair showed over the top of the long red couch, his low, rich voice lured her forward. As if sensing her, he turned, spoke into the mobile held to his ear. ‘Hang on a minute.’ He covered the mouthpiece, studied her with reflective cobalt eyes. ‘Okay?’
Her reward, when she nodded, was a full-blown lethal Ethan James smile that blew her composure sky-high. ‘Give me ten minutes. If you’re thirsty, I’ll have coffee.’
The kitchen area was TV-cooking-show-perfection: black granite benchtops–—including an island—with stainless steel appliances. It enforced her earlier assessment. His apartment contained top-of-the-range exclusives with a wood and leather theme. Had he given carte blanche to the same interior designer who’d decorated the hotel?
She hadn’t cooked in a kitchen with an island since—since she’d sold the three-bedroom house, mortgaged to the hilt, that she still couldn’t bear to see ever again. Not since hired contractors had packed up the contents and put them into storage arranged by her solicitor.
She clamped her teeth together and focused on the coffee machine—top-brand, naturally.
‘Bronze pod for me. Biscuits in island cupboard. Top shelf.’ His voice floated through the room, accompanied by soft clicks as he dialled another number.
Everything she needed, including a decorative wooden box with the word ‘TEA’ inlaid on the lid, sat on the bench. She activated the machine for his coffee, then opened the box. A delighted ‘Wow...’ whispered from her lips. Her blind lucky dip into one of the sixteen compartments of herbal tea—some quite exotic—produced lemon and ginger.
Ethan waited while his project manager verified figures, his eyes tracking Alina as she made two trips, carrying mugs and a plate of biscuits into the lounge. There was nothing hurried in her movements—hadn’t been from the moment they met. Except when he’d challenged her about her husband and her child.
His eyes did a slow full-body scan, from the short wavy hair framing her pretty face down to the sleek white blouse, over her still flat abdomen, over slender shapely hips, ending at dainty bare feet. His own body enjoyed every second of the journey.
Quiet and unassuming, she’d have been overshadowed by the vibrant Spanish women he’d chatted up on his visits. Or would she? She disturbed him in a sensual way, new and puzzling, and definitely unwanted in their current circumstances.
‘Ethan? You still there?’
The voice in his ear jolted him out of his daydream. Reality ruled.
He gave due praise to his colleague for an urgent problem solved and ended the call. Dropping his mobile by the files on the table, he took an appreciative drink of the strong adrenaline-reviving coffee.
‘Thanks for this.’ The object of his distracting thoughts was now curled up in one of the lounge chairs with a notebook and pen, completely oblivious to the effect she had on him.
‘What’s the title of the latest?’
Alina frowned.
He indicated her notebook. ‘List?’
‘Ah... Personal items. Clothes. What I have won’t do for living your lifestyle.’
Her voice held an audible hint of resignation that sparked a twinge of sympathy. He understood her reluctance, but couldn’t change his stance. He was taking the only course of action he’d be able to live with, irrespective of personal preferences or consequences. Those must be considered collateral damage.
‘I’ve ordered a credit card for you.’ He held up his hand to stop her interjecting. ‘No argument. Having you here is my decision, so I’ll cover any costs you incur because you’re living with me.’
‘I have money.’
Enticingly stubborn, eyes fiercely defiant, mouth so tantalisingly kissable...
He’d eventually win—just not easily. Every step was a walk in a minefield and they’d hardly entered the paddock. Knowing women as he did, he figured once she began to shop for her growing figure and new social commitments she’d realise he was right.
‘Compromise? Accept the card. Use it at your own discretion.’
Her gaze shifted over his shoulder to the photos on the bookshelf. Leon and Louise on their wedding day. With him at a social event. Her eyes softened. She played it down but she’d cared for them too.
He watched neat white teeth bite into a chocolate-covered biscuit, inexplicably imagined them nibbling on his neck. Selecting a plain shortbread, he stretched his legs and crossed his ankles. Wondered what it was about her he found so fascinating.
‘Compromise it is. I have final say,’ she stated with determination, causing him to chuckle out loud. ‘Is there a gym in the building? Or nearby. Until I find a job I’ll—’
She stopped as if stunned when his body jerked forward. Coffee dregs splashed onto the table. His eyes narrowed.
A job? She wanted to work? Hell! He stood, drew in a ragged breath and quelled his exasperation.
‘Wait.’
He strode to the kitchen, brought back a cloth and mopped up the mess. She watched him warily. How could he explain his world to a woman who’d depended only on herself for so long?
Sitting by her side, he took her hand in his, felt her resistance. Held on. ‘In the social circles I grew up in few women worked. There was always a hint of condescension when my parents spoke of those who did—even those with a profession. My contemporaries are a mixture, mostly by choice. I make no judgement.’
He cupped and tilted her jaw until their eyes met.
‘We are different. You’ve come to me two months pregnant, with limited work skills. Uh-uh.’ He quickly placed his thumb over her lips as she stiffened. ‘That was not an insult, merely a statement of fact. I admire the diverse ways you’ve supported yourself, but I’d like you to relax, indulge yourself while you are with me. Accept a little pampering. Let me take care of you both. Please.’
‘I’m not sure I know how.’
Her wistful eyes confirmed her words. He waited, liking the way the violet darkened and her brow furrowed as she contemplated the idea.
‘Does taking courses constitute work?’
Spontaneous laughter rose in his throat. She was adorable. He hugged her close, pressing his lips to her hair. Wanting to press them to hers.
Rising to his feet, he held out his hand. ‘Come with me.’
She hesitated for a second, then accepted his offer. He led her through the kitchen into a short corridor, flicking a hand at two doors on the right.
‘Storage and spare.’ He opened the door on the left. ‘But this is what clinched the deal for me.’
He watched her expression and wasn’t disappointed. Her amazement duplicated his when he’d first walked into the not yet finished lap pool/gym area. One glance, one split second, and he’d contracted to buy.
She gawked at the neat array of exercise machines and banks of weights, at the long narrow strip of water. Her lips parted, but he quickly averted any speech with fingers over her mouth.
‘Don’t...’
Her eyebrows lifted as he spoke.
‘Don’t you dare say it.’
Her chin lifted defiantly. ‘You have no idea what I was thinking,’ she claimed into his skin.
He huffed. ‘A comparison between our worlds and I refuse to listen to any more.’
She studied the equipment for a moment, then him, and damned if he could define the expression in her eyes. Though he sure as hell knew he wanted to change it.
‘Our choices define us, Alina.