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Her gaze clashed with his.
“What do you think the earrings were for?” he chided.
“You tell me. Do you regularly give women such outrageous gifts for a night of sex?”
Saint drew a breath that seared his lungs with fresh liability. She was too good at prying into him, forcing him to self-exam and see where he fell short.
“My relationships have always been superficial,” he admitted, rising in a restless attempt to dodge that spiky truth. “You weren’t wrong when you called me that. And, as you’ve discovered, my life can be taxing on those who get involved with me, even briefly. If I can reduce the criticism or soften the impact, I do.”
“With jewelry? Just admit you’re paying for sex, Saint. This is a safe space. No judgment.” She sounded facetious.
“I’m paying for the fact that I don’t offer much beyond sex,” he prevaricated. “I’m monogamous and materially generous, but I don’t fall in love. Emotions are grit in my teeth. That’s why I have the reputation I do, so no one expects grand gestures or heartfelt declarations.”
“You should be in sales. I can’t wait to overturn my life for that.”
“You’re doing it for our child.”
“Right. It’s not about me.” Her voice sounded tight.
“I’m aware of my limitations, Fliss. Now you are, too. We’re going into this with a much clearer vision than my parents had. My mother mistook passion for love and didn’t understand why it faded. You won’t have those sorts of unrealistic expectations of me.”
“And what would you expect of me?” she challenged, expression cantankerous.
“I’dlikesex, but I don’t expect it, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“No—” She made an impatient noise. He didn’t think she could hug herself any harder without turning herself inside out. “According to the headlines, you’re looking to settle down with ‘someone who shares your values.’ That’s not me. I know that because it’s been three months without a word from you. You didn’t even ask me to continue that affair you claim to have wanted. Don’t—” She held up a stalling finger. “Don’t say you didn’t have my number. If you can get Delia Chevron’s personal number, you can get mine. You’re only here—” she pointed at the floor “—becauseIcame toyou. So don’t pretend you wantmewhen what you really want is sex. If you want honesty between us, be honest about that.”
Saint rocked back on his heels, annoyed that she was such a pugnacious fighter but admiring how tough she was at the same time.
“My search for a wife is a smoke screen. I was generating too much unflattering publicity. The board refused to fund an important project until I was able to prove I take Grayscale and my future seriously. Much as I wanted to call you, I thought it was better to let the attention die down.”
“And your silence had nothing to do with finding out I was a lowly housemaid.” Her words dripped cynicism.
“The part where you were fired for theft concerned me,” he said with gravity. “Not the job you were doing at the time.”
Fliss dropped her gaze, not bothering to make more excuses.
“Now you be honest,” he commanded gruffly. “Would you have continued our affair if I’d asked?”
“I don’t know.” She was staring into a corner, profile tortured.
“Really?” The tension of expecting a blow came into his abdomen. “Do you not think of that night as often as I do?”
Her gaze swept to his, wide with exposure, then slid to the bed before snapping away. The flush of pink that came into her cheeks was so ripe with sensual reminiscence he had to fight a smug smile of gratification.
“Okay, then.” All he wanted in that moment was to crawl onto that narrow mattress with her and relive every single thing they’d done. Then start making new memories.
“What ‘okay’? No. All I’m hearing is that you need a trophy wife,” she blurted. “How do you expect an unplanned pregnancy with a scrounging housemaid will go over with your board?”
“Oh, they’ll treat it like a national holiday. There might even be a parade.”
“Gawd,” she cried softly and buried her face in her hands.
“Fliss.” He couldn’t resist going over to take her hands, forcing her to reveal all the uncertainty gripping her. “I’ve already thought through how I’ll handle it. And once everyone realizes I’m producing Theodore the Third, they’ll be very happy for us.”
She quirked her brow. “Is your real name Theodore?”
“Now you know my deep dark secret,” he said. “Why are you shaking your head? You think our baby is a girl? Gender is a construct.”
