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“You think?”
“Is that why you’re here? To tell me you’re angry at how this played out?” He would only grovel so far, and she’d just witnessed the extent of it. “Or have you decided you want compensation for your trouble after all?” He moved to the ice bucket. It held a bottle of Prieur Montrachet that he’d had room service deliver. “Have a seat. Do you want something to drink while we discuss terms?”
She didn’t move.
He pulled the bottle from the ice and glanced over, catching a look of wounded shock on her face.
“That’s really mean,” she said.
“What is?”
Saint knew. He was uncomfortable with his guilt and how strongly he was reacting to her. He was doing what he’d learned to do when intense emotions took hold in him—he set them aside and used cold logic while he did whatever was necessary to make the issue go away.
“I can’t undo what happened, Fliss. I did cost you your job and threw unwanted attention onto you. People seem to think I don’t take responsibility for my actions, but I do.” Money might not fix everything, but it bought some very effective bandages. “Tell me what will make you feel better, and I’ll see what I can do. A storefront for a boutique perhaps?”
Still she didn’t move or speak.
He opened the bottle and poured two glasses, then carried them to the coffee table.
“Come,” he invited as he seated himself and leaned back.
After a moment, she came toward him. She seemed very pale as she sat on the sofa across from him, only lowering to perch on the edge of the cushion. She stared at the glass of wine but only clasped her hands in her lap, back very straight. She lifted her gaze to his.
“I didn’t come here to ask anything of you,” she said with quiet dignity. “Nothing. I mean that.Nothing.”
“Except my time,” he noted drily.
“Not even much of that,” she assured him with a proud lift of her chin. “I’m catching the train back to Nottingham once I’ve finished the rest of my errands. You’ll never hear from me again. But I had to tell you something that didn’t feel right to send as a text.”
“What’s that?” He did his best to sound detached, but his ears were ringing with that word.Never.He held his breath, straining to hear over that jarring sound of a train disappearing down a tunnel. His muscles felt both paralyzed and tense with readiness to leap and catch.
“I’m pregnant.”
Saint didn’t move. She wasn’t sure he was breathing.
Then there was a faint, fractured clink before he gave his wine a startled look and swore.
He’d snapped the stem on his glass. He cupped one hand under the other and rose to head to the bar.
“Are you bleeding?” Fliss hurried after him to see him rinse the welling blood from his fingers into the sink. “I’ll call the desk.” She looked for the hotel phone.
“I can deal with it.” He wrapped a clean bar towel around his fingers as he strode into the bedroom.
Fliss covered where her heart had been pounding with anxiety from the time she’d worked up the courage to hit Send on her text. It had increased to alarming levels when she had entered this hotel, picked up the card from a bored-looking bellman, then stepped off the elevator and made her way to this door. Now it was racing so fast she felt dizzy. Her nerve endings were sizzling and her mouth had gone dry.
Entering this suite was like stepping into a dream, but one of those weird ones that repeated every time you closed your eyes, the kind that made you feel stuck and fighting to wake up.
Everywhere she looked, sensual memories accosted her. She’d pressed her hands to that glass door and felt him inside her. He’d carried her through that doorway and stripped her naked, and they’d showered together before taking to the bed where they had touched and kissed each othereverywhere. He had spoken wicked commands and reverent compliments in a sexy rasp.
Tell me if it’s too much. I can’t get enough of you.
As she had dressed to come here, she had braced for the impact of that potent sexuality of his. She had known she would react to his rangy, athletic body in his tailored trousers and crisp shirt. She had known she would want to push her fingers into his hair again, to press her mouth to his stern lips and nuzzle the scent in his throat.
She had not been prepared for his aloof, businesslike wall of commerce.
You want compensation after all?
She had suspected he would think that, but she hadn’t expected it to stab so deeply to hear it.
