Cat Schield – A Royal Baby Surprise (страница 2)
That was it? No explosion? No ranting? “What do you see?”
“That we have a lot to talk about.”
He didn’t want to talk. He wanted to pull her into his arms and make love to her until they were both too exhausted to speak. “I’ve already said everything I intend to.” He shouldn’t have phrased that like a challenge. She was as tenacious as a terrier when she got her teeth into something.
“Don’t give me that. You owe me some answers.”
“Fine.” He owed her more than that. “What do you want to know?”
“You have brothers?”
“Two. We’re triplets.”
“You never talked about your family. Why is that?”
“There’s not much to say.”
“Here’s where we disagree.”
She stepped closer. Vanilla and honey enveloped him, overpowering the scent of cypress and the odor of brine carried on the light morning breeze. With her finger she eased his dark sunglasses down his nose and captured his gaze. Her delicate brows pulled together in a frown.
He braced himself against the pitch and roll of emotions as her green-gray eyes scoured his face. He should tell her to go away, but he was so damned glad to see her that the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he growled like a cranky dog that wasn’t sure whether to bite or beg to be petted.
“You look like hell.”
“I’m fine.” Disgusted by his suddenly hoarse voice, he knocked her hand aside and slid his sunglasses back into place.
She, on the other hand, looked gorgeous. Rambunctious red hair, streaked with dark honey, framed her oval face and cascaded over her shoulders. Her pale, unblemished skin, arresting dimples and gently curving cheekbones made for the sort of loveliness any man could lose his head over. A wayward curl tickled his skin as she leaned over him. Shifting his gaze, he took the strand between two fingers and toyed with it.
“What have you been doing all alone in your fancy villa?” she asked.
“If you must know, I’m working.”
“On your tan maybe.” She sniffed him and wrinkled her slender nose. “Or a hangover. Your eyes are bloodshot.”
“I’ve been working late.”
“Riiight.” She drew the word out doubtfully. “I’ll make some coffee. It looks like you could use some.”
Safe behind his dark glasses, he watched her go, captivated by the gentle sway of her denim-clad rear and her long legs. Satin smooth skin stretched over lean muscles, honed by yoga and running. His pulse purred as he recalled those strong, shapely legs wrapped around his hips.
Despite the cool morning air, his body heated. An hour ago, he’d opened his eyes, feeling as he had most of the past few mornings: queasy, depressed and distraught over the accident that had occurred during a test firing of their prototype rocket ship.
Brooke’s arrival on this sleepy, Greek island was like being awakened from a drugged sleep by an air horn.
“Someone must be taking care of you,” she said a short time later, bringing the smell of bitter black coffee with her when she returned. “The coffeepot was filled with grounds and water. All I had to do was turn it on.”
Nic’s nostrils flared eagerly as he inhaled the robust aroma. The scent alone was enough to bring him back to life.
She sat down on the lounge beside his and cradled her mug between both hands. She took a tentative sip and made a face. “Ugh. I forgot how strong you like it.”
He grunted and willed the liquid to cool a little more so he could drain his cup and start on a second. It crossed his mind that coping with Brooke while a strong jolt of stimulant rushed through his veins was foolhardy at best. She riled him up admirably all by herself, making the mix of caffeine and being alone with her a lethal combination.
“So, am I interrupting a romantic weekend?”
Luckily he hadn’t taken another sip, or the stuff might have come straight out his nose. His fingers clenched around the mug. When they began to cramp, he ground his teeth and relaxed his grip.
“Probably not,” she continued when he didn’t answer. “Or you’d be working harder to get rid of me.”
Damn her for showing up while his guard was down. Temptation rode him like a demon every time she was near. But he couldn’t have her. She mustn’t know how much he wanted her. He’d barely summoned the strength to break things off a month ago. But now that he was alone with her on this island, her big misty-green eyes watching his every mood, would his willpower hold out?
Silence stretched between them. He heard the creak of wood as she settled back on the lounge. He set the empty cup on his chest and closed his eyes once more. Having her here brought him a sense of peace he had no right to feel. He wanted to reach out and lace his fingers with hers but didn’t dare to.
“I can see why you and your brothers bought this place. I could sit here for days and stare at the view.”
Nic snorted softly. Brooke had never been one to sit anywhere and stare at anything. She was a whirling dervish of energy and enthusiasm.
“I can’t believe how blue the water is. And the town is so quaint. I can’t wait to go exploring.”
Exploring? Nic needed to figure out how to get her on a plane back to America as soon as possible before he gave in to temptation. Given her knack for leading with her emotions, reasoning with her wouldn’t work. Threats wouldn’t work, either. The best technique for dealing with Brooke was to let her have her way and that absolutely couldn’t happen this time. Or ever again, for that matter.
When she broke the silence, the waver in her voice betrayed worry. “When are you coming back?”
“I’m not.”
“You can’t mean that.” She paused, offering him the opportunity to take back what he’d said. When he didn’t, her face took on a troubled expression. “You do mean that. What about
“Someone died because of a flaw in a system I designed—”
She gripped his forearm. “Glen was the one pushing for the test. He didn’t listen when you told him it wasn’t ready. He’s the one to blame.”
“Walter died.” He enunciated the words, letting her hear his grief. “It was my fault.”
“So that’s it? You are giving up because something went wrong? You expect me to accept that you’re throwing away your life’s work? To do what?”
He had no answer. What the hell was he going to do in Sherdana besides get married and produce an heir? He had no interest in helping run the country. That was Gabriel’s job. And his other brother Christian had his businesses and investments to occupy him. All Nic wanted to do, all he’d ever wanted to do, was build rockets that would someday carry people into space. With that possibility extinguished, his life stretched before him, empty and filled with regret.
“There’s something else going on.” She tightened her grip on his arm. “Don’t insult my intelligence by denying it.”
Nic patted her hand. “I would never do that, Dr. Davis.” A less intelligent woman wouldn’t have captivated him so completely, no matter how beautiful. Brooke’s combination of sex appeal and brains had delivered a fatal one-two punch. “How many doctorates do you have now, anyway?”
“Only two.” She jerked her hand from beneath his, reacting to his placating tone. “And don’t change the subject.” Despite her annoyance, a huge yawn practically dislocated her jaw as she glared at him.
“You’re tired.” Showing concern for her welfare might encourage her, but he couldn’t help it.
“I’ve been on planes since yesterday sometime. Do you know how long it takes to get here?” She closed her eyes. “About twenty hours. And I couldn’t sleep on the flight over.”
“Why?”
A deep breath pushed her small, pert breasts tight against her sleeveless white cotton blouse.
“Because I was worried about you, that’s why.”
* * *
The admission was a cop-out. It was fourth on her list of reasons why she’d flown six thousand miles to talk to him in person rather than breaking her news over the phone.
But she wasn’t prepared to blurt out that she was eight weeks pregnant within the first ten minutes of arriving.
She had a lot of questions about why he’d broken off their relationship four weeks earlier. Questions she hadn’t asked at first because she’d been too hurt to wonder why he’d dropped her when things between them had been so perfect. Then the fatal accident had happened with
“I don’t need your concern,” he said.
“Of course you don’t.” She crammed all the skepticism she could muster into her tone to keep from revealing how much his rebuff stung. “That’s why you look like week-old roadkill.”
Although his expression didn’t change, his voice reflected amusement. “Nice image.”
She surveyed his disheveled state, thought about the circles she’d seen beneath his eyes, their utter lack of vitality. The thick black stubble on his cheeks made her wonder how long it had been since he’d shaved. No matter how hard he worked, she’d never seen his golden-brown eyes so flat and lifeless. He really did look like death warmed over.
“Brooke, why did you really come here?”
Her ready excuse died on her lips. He’d believe that she’d come here to convince him to return to the project. It would be safe to argue on behalf of her brother. But where Nic was concerned, she hadn’t played it safe for five years. He deserved the truth. So, she selected item number three on her list of why she’d chased after him.