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‘How do you know it’s the right thing?’ she challenged softly.
His eyes hardened a fraction. ‘Providing our child with a stable home with both parents isn’t the right thing?’
She swallowed. He painted a nice picture. And, if she let herself, she could easily indulge the fantasy. Imagine them living here as husband and wife, raising their child in this beautiful home. ‘Is this what you want, Ramon? A life of domesticity? Tied down with a wife and child?’
His jaw flexed. He dropped his hands from her shoulders. ‘I’m thirty years old. Most men settle down eventually.’
Her chest grew heavier. ‘I’m not asking what other men do. I’m asking if it’s what you want. If Paris hadn’t happened,’ she pressed. ‘If I wasn’t pregnant, would you be thinking about giving up your bachelor lifestyle?’
‘But you are pregnant, Emily.’ His voice turned a shade cooler. ‘With my child.’ He paced away, turned back. ‘Would you relegate me to the role of part-time father? Someone who breezes in and out of our child’s life whenever the custody arrangement tells me I can?’
Emily felt her face blanch. That was exactly the kind of arrangement she’d assumed they would agree upon. But Ramon’s description made her blood run cold. Made her think of all the times she’d curled up on her bed as a little girl and cried, believing her daddy didn’t care enough to visit her.
A fluttery, panicky feeling worked its way up her throat. ‘But what about us?’
He moved closer, eyes narrowing. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean...’ she hesitated, colour seeping back into her face ‘...us—our relationship. You’re talking about a long-term commitment. Or at least until our child has grown and left home. That could be twenty years, Ramon. Twenty years of commitment to our child...and me. Twenty years with no other...’ She hesitated, her chest suddenly constricting.
‘Women?’ he supplied.
She lifted her chin. ‘I won’t tolerate that kind of relationship.’
‘Marriage,’ he corrected. ‘We’re talking about marriage, Emily. And, yes, I understand the full implications of such a commitment. For the record—’ he grasped her chin and locked his gaze on hers ‘—I won’t tolerate that kind of marriage either.’
She blinked. A part of her wanted to believe him. Another part of her said it didn’t matter if she believed him or not, because all of this was hypothetical.
Besides, pledging his faithfulness now, when they were still burning up the sheets, was easy. How would his vows hold up when she was heavy and listless with his child, or exhausted from juggling the demands of motherhood and a job?
He clasped her shoulders again. ‘We’re good together, querida. Are you denying that?’
‘Lust is hardly a foundation for marriage.’
The hard line of his mouth softened. ‘But it’s a good starting point, sí?’
Love was supposed to be the starting point for marriage, she thought. But then what did she know?
She stepped back, forcing his hands to drop. ‘It’s a beautiful house,’ she said, casting a final look around the room. ‘But I... I just need some time to think.’
* * *
Emily didn’t stop thinking. Not for a single waking minute. For the next forty-eight hours, her mind spun and her stomach churned and Ramon waited on her answer with barely leashed impatience.
At two a.m. on Sunday morning she sat on the cushioned window seat in her lounge, staring out at the moonlit night, her mother’s pearl tucked in h
er hand. She laid her other hand over her stomach and knew instinctively the bond she had feared mightn’t grow between her and her child was already there. She could feel it with each beat of her heart. A strong, deep connection unlike anything else she’d ever known. It filled her with a fierce resolve to nurture and protect. To do whatever was best for her child. To give it the best life possible and shield him or her from the same bitter hurts and disappointments she’d suffered as a child.
Breathing deeply, she rose and went back to bed. Ramon lay on his back, the white cotton sheet bunched around his waist, his bare chest rising and falling. The sound of his deep, steady breathing was familiar and somehow comforting. She slipped off her robe and climbed between the sheets.
Ramon stirred, his arm lifting so she could curl into his side. ‘Emily?’ His voice was a sexy, sleep-roughened rumble.
‘I’m fine.’ She snuggled close and leaned on her elbow. ‘Ramon?’
He caressed her hip. ‘Sí?’
‘Yes,’ she said softly.
He went still. And then he deftly turned her onto her back. He didn’t say anything. He just stroked his fingers over her hair. Her cheek. Her mouth. And then he kissed her. Long, deep and hard.
