Her Pregnancy Secret Page 16

  As he strode out of her bedroom blind to any emotion other than his own hurt, he willed her to come after him.

  But she didn’t see who he was, didn’t feel the pain that was choking off his breath and she didn’t follow him. When he left the building, he prayed that she would call him on his cell and agree that what he felt for her was enough. Love grew day by day, like a flower, didn’t it, if it was real? Hell—what did he know about love?

  When his cell phone buzzed, his heart raced. Thinking it was Bree, he grabbed for it, but it was Natalia, of all people, so he declined the call.

  As he looked up from the sidewalk, he saw Bree standing in her window wrapped in a tangled bedsheet.

  She was as pale as a ghost. Did he only imagine the shimmer of brightness on her cheeks? His heart constricted. Had he made her cry?

  He wouldn’t let himself care. She’d rejected him.

  When she let go of the curtain, and it fell back into place, he tore his gaze from her window and hurried down the sidewalk.

  When Natalia called him again a few minutes later, he picked up. Why the hell shouldn’t he?

  * * *

  Bree stared up at her bedroom ceiling. Feeling lost and uncertain, she’d been staring at it for hours.

  With shocking, devastating suddenness their affair was over.

  Bree had known she’d be hurt when he left her, but the pain that pulsed in the center of her being cut like a blade. It was as if all hope for happiness was draining out of her like blood seeping from a fatal wound.

  Hours later, when the sun turned the rooftops in her neighborhood bloodred, she got up, dressed and walked out of her apartment, feeling heavy from her long, sleepless night.

  Hoping to clear her head, she made her way toward the park. She wanted to be around noisy cars on their way to offices and schools, around people rushing to catch buses or subway trains. Near the park, she bought herself a bagel and coffee from a street vendor and kept walking.

  Michael had said he cared about her, that he knew he craved her, missed her.... And because she’d been a fool to believe him before, she’d refused to let herself believe him now.

  But what if he’d been telling the truth? She remembered how tenderly he’d treated her when she’d fallen on her stairs. He’d said he’d been happy with her this past month. She’d certainly been happy with him.

  What if he had come to care for her? What if he could love her? What if this relationship wasn’t just a deal to him?

  What if she was wrong? What if he’d been telling her the truth? What if he didn’t feel trapped into marrying her? What if he really was beginning to fall in love with her, and instead of giving him a chance, she’d driven him away? What if she’d hurt him with her rejection exactly as he’d hurt her?

  Oh, God. Thinking herself a naive fool, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and called him.

  “What do you want?” he said, his tone so harsh he terrified her. “I’m on another line.”

  “Michael...”

  The line went dead.

  She wanted to hold on to his voice, but he was already gone.

  She caught a slow, agonized breath. Had he deliberately hung up on her?

  Motion on the street seemed to stop as she clasped the phone against the violent pounding of her heart. The horns and sirens around her grew silent. The hawker’s voice died away. The pedestrians passing her seemed to walk in slow motion. All she could feel was the pain in her heart.

  She felt like screaming, like crying out, but of course she did not. Instead, she stumbled back to her apartment where she waited in her living room for over an hour for him to call her back. When he didn’t, she set her phone on an end table and picked up her purse.

  She took the key to his penthouse off her own key ring. She dug an envelope out of her desk, addressed it and put his key inside. Leaving the package on the table, she walked outside to water the ivy that climbed her garden wall.

  While she watched water from her hose rain down on the bricks, she tried to imagine how she would live the rest of her life without him.

  * * *

  “Aren’t you sleeping?” Bijou demanded.

  “I’m fine,” Bree said, annoyed by her mother’s constant hovering of late.

  “Why the dark glasses then? Afraid I’ll see the shadows under your eyes? Why aren’t you sleeping?”

  Bree yanked off the offending glasses and tossed them into her purse. “I am sleeping!” she lied. “Why wouldn’t I be sleeping?”

  She hated it when her mother poked her long nose where it didn’t belong and kept poking it—which had been happening way too often lately.

  “No more flowers?” Bijou persisted.

  It was now day two after Michael had walked out on her, day two since he’d stopped sending flowers.

  Bijou lifted a vase from a table in the main dining room and removed two withered roses. “Did you have a quarrel? Or is this more serious?”

  Bree wasn’t ready to talk about Michael. “Why don’t you go check on the prep work? Or maybe sweep outside?”

  “Why hasn’t he been coming by for breakfast anymore? I miss him.”

  “Bijou! Please!”

  “Should I maybe call him, yes? And tell him we miss him, very much, yes?”

  “No!”

  “So—you did quarrel. Then you foolish, sad girl, you must call him and make up!”

  She’d tried, hadn’t she? And he hadn’t called her back.

  “You don’t know anything.” When Bree’s eyes began to sting she went to her purse, grabbed her sunglasses and slammed them back on her face. “Please. Don’t ask me about him right now.”

  “You two are so romantic,” Marcie whispered from a table in the back. “Such passion. Such fire.”

  Not anymore.

  Her life felt empty, colorless.

  Feeling hollow despair, Bree shut her eyes.

  * * *

  “You’re just as unhappy as he is,” Luke said as he set his fork down. “I came by because I thought that would be the case.”

  “It’s just an off night,” Bree countered defensively as she stood over his table.

  “Yes. Everything about this place is off...you, the service, the pastries, the soup, even the omelets, which were always perfect, but especially you. Since I know what you’re capable of and what your staff is capable of, you can’t fool me. A month ago, you were doing so well. This place was fun. Hot.”

  Since Michael had walked out two weeks ago, she’d had to force herself to go through the motions of living. She knew she hadn’t been concentrating at work.

  “I’m sorry if your dining experience has been such a disappointment.”

  “Bull! What’s going on between you and Michael?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Funny, he said the same thing when I went to check on him.”

  “You’ve seen him?” She tried to keep her face blank but her heart had begun to race.

  “Yesterday. Did you know that he’s all but withdrawn from the world?”

  “We haven’t been in contact lately, so—no.”

  “Really? Well, he’s taken the week off—hell, he never takes a week off—he’s a ruthless workaholic for God’s sake! Right now he’s just sitting around his penthouse reading. Or watching his cleaning lady do her tasks. Watching his cleaning lady! He’s not shaving or showering. She took me aside when I was leaving. She told me she’s worried sick about him. He won’t answer the phone—especially if it’s Eden, his secretary, calling about work.

  “I asked him about you. I said if you love her, for God’s sake, man, tell her. He looked up at me with eyes that were as dark and dead as death. You know what he said?”

  She shook her head.

  “He sa
id, ‘I tried, Luke. But I guess I don’t know what love is. Or at least she doesn’t think I do. Or I’m not the man she wants. Do you really think I didn’t try?’”

  Bree sank into the chair across from Luke. Had Michael really said all that?

  “Thank you for caring about him. And thank you for coming by to check on me. It was sweet, really. Thank you.”

  “So—are you going to call him?”

  “I don’t know. He broke up with me.”

  “Call him. He loves you, woman.”

  Did he? Did she dare believe that she was really more than an obligation or another deal he had to close?

  She thought about the way he’d grown up...without ever getting enough love. Maybe he did love her. Maybe love was such a new experience for him, he wasn’t sure what it was or how to express it.

  She remembered how sweet he’d been after her fall, how committed and determined he’d been to have her in his life ever since.

  He could have any woman he wanted, and he’d chosen her.

  Maybe he did love her. Maybe she’d been wrong.

  Whether he truly cared or not, she was worried about him. Should she go to him? Check on him? After all, he was the father of her child. They would have to talk at some point. Why not now?

  But what if he wouldn’t let her in?

  Her key. Since she’d procrastinated as usual, the envelope with his key was still in her purse, waiting to be mailed.

  * * *

  When the intercom buzzed for the fifth time, Michael got to his feet, swaying slightly. How many shots of scotch had he had? Who cared? He’d lost count.

  On unsteady feet he crossed the room that was littered with newspapers and business magazines and answered his intercom.

  “It’s me, Natalia.”

  Surrounded by media, she looked gorgeous on his video screen.

  “Go the hell away,” he said.

  “Carlo, I told you about Carlo, he jilted me. He thinks he’s this big important producer. But nobody jilts Natalia publicly and gets away with it. I was so wrong about you, wrong to blame you for anything. Carlo—he is the real bastard.”

  “Well, I’m sorry about Carlo, but I can’t talk right now.”

  “Can I please come up?”

  “I said this is a bad time, Natalia. Look, you’re a beautiful girl. Sooner or later your luck with men will change.”

  Platitudes, he thought. Who was he to give advice to the lovelorn when he was in a lot worse shape than Natalia?

  He cut the connection and poured himself another scotch. Then he slumped onto his couch again and tortured himself with more memories of Bree—Bree with her cute baby bump climbing on top of him, Bree taking him into her mouth, Bree kissing him everywhere with those little flicks of her tongue that drove him wild.

  What the hell was he doing, dreaming of a woman who didn’t want him? Luke was right. He couldn’t go on like this.

  Michael had brought this on himself. She saw him as deal-maker, not as a husband. He’d offered her all he had to give and she’d rejected him.

  She was the mother of his child, and he had to establish a workable, familial, brotherly relationship with her so they could raise that child together. That was all that was left, their bond as parents.

  * * *

  With Michael’s key clutched tightly in one hand and her purse in the other, Bree walked up to his building just as Natalia emerged with a smile meant to dazzle the paparazzi lying in wait for her.

  “Yes, I’m dating Michael North again,” she said to a reporter when he thrust a microphone to her lips. “He invited me here.” When flashes blazed, she laughed triumphantly and raced for her limo.

  An inner voice cried inside Bree. See how easily he replaced you with someone more beautiful. You were just an obligation, a deal he wanted to close. Go home. Forget him.

  On the walk through the park from her place to his, visions of married life had flooded her mind. She’d imagined Michael beside her when the baby came, Michael beside her at their son’s first birthday, Michael beside her at the holidays and dining at home with friends. And all the while that she’d been imagining a shared life with him, he’d been entertaining Natalia.

  She flung the key into the bottom of her purse. Lacking the strength to walk home, she went to the curb and asked the doorman to hail a taxi for her.

  * * *

  Somewhere a bolt turned in a lock. Michael blinked, annoyed at the sound. Dimly he grew aware that someone was outside his front door fumbling with a key. Who the hell could it be?

  Natalia? Hadn’t he sent her away? Despite the liquor that fogged his brain he was almost sure he had sent her away. He hadn’t given her a key, had he?

  When his door gave way, he shot to a sitting position in time to see a woman glide gracefully inside.

  “Natalia?”

  The great room was filled with gloom and long shadows and his vision was blurry from drink, so he couldn’t make out her features. Still, something didn’t seem right. Natalia was several inches taller, wasn’t she?

  “Not Natalia. It’s me, Michael,” said the soft feminine voice he’d dreamed of for days.

  A pulse in his gut beat savagely.

  “Bree?”

  “Yes.”

  When she turned on the lights, he blinked at the glare and sat up straighter, pushing back his tangled hair. When was the last time he’d showered or shaved? Why did he give a damn? She’d turned him out, hadn’t she? She saw him as nothing more than a crass deal-maker.

  “Why are you here?” he demanded coldly.

  She shut the door and moved cautiously around the newspapers that littered his floor. She moved as if she was approaching a dangerous wild animal.

  Aware suddenly that he wore the same T-shirt and pair of jeans he’d put on yesterday, the same ones he’d slept in, he flushed. His eyes burned as he studied her, and his head ached.

  Damn it. He didn’t want her pity or her tenderness.

  “Tell me what you want and go,” he growled fiercely.

  “Luke came to the bistro and told me...you weren’t well.”

  “The two of you should mind your own damn business. As you can see, there’s nothing wrong with me. I’m fine. Having the time of my life! Go home.”

  She picked up his empty scotch bottle. “Looks like we’ve got one dead soldier. Why don’t I make you some coffee?”

  “Because I don’t want coffee,” he snarled.

  “Well, maybe I do. Why don’t you freshen up so you can play host while I putter around in the kitchen?”

  “What gives you the right to barge into my house and boss me around? We broke up—remember?”

  “I’ll be happy to tell you why I’m here after you take a shower and make yourself presentable. You really don’t look very civilized, darling.” Again her voice was maddeningly light and cheery as she disappeared into his kitchen.

  He considered going after her, but when he took a step in pursuit, he stumbled. Feeling unsure, he thought better of following her.

  One glance in his bathroom mirror had him shuddering in disgust. Who was that man with the narrowed, bloodshot eyes and the greasy, tangled hair?

  Ashamed at how low he’d sunk, he stripped and stepped into an icy shower.

  The cold water was hellish, but it revived him. Five minutes later, when he returned to the great room, he’d shaved, brushed his teeth and slicked back his damp hair.

  She smiled. “You look like a new man.”

  Except for his headache, he felt a lot better. Not that he was about to admit it.

  “Why the hell are you here? If you’ve come because you pity me, so help me...”

  “I don’t pity you. I love you. I’ve missed you. Picnics in the park. Dinners out. And the p
assionate things you did to me in bed. I think I’m okay with you thinking maybe you love me.”

  He looked down at her, unable to comprehend her words.

  “What?”

  “Drink your coffee,” she whispered as she handed him a steaming cup.

  His hand shook slightly, but he took a long sip and then another. It was strong and black, just what he needed.

  “What are you saying?” he demanded.

  “Luke came to see me.”

  “Oh.”

  “I was worried about you, so I came over. Then I was so scared when I saw Natalia downstairs in your lobby. She was all but holding a press conference and telling everybody you two were back together.”

  “We’re not back together,” he said.

  “I know. The doorman told me you hadn’t let her up. If he hadn’t told me that while he was helping me hail a cab, I would have lost my courage and gone home.”

  “We haven’t been together since I called it off months ago. Her new boyfriend broke up with her and she has such low self-esteem she goes crazy when that happens. She can’t stand to feel abandoned or rejected, so she came over here. But I was in no shape to deal with her.”

  “It’s a very difficult feeling...abandonment,” Bree whispered.

  “Yes, it is,” he said.

  “That’s how I felt that first night when you told me you’d lied and didn’t care about me.”

  “I’m so sorry.” He sucked in a breath. Without Bree these past few weeks, he’d felt as if he was a dead man. Now that she was here, he felt alive again. “I missed you,” he whispered. “I missed you so much.”

  She sat down and put her arms around him. “I love you, too. I love you enough for both of us. I’m going to hope that what you feel for me will grow...as you said it would.”

  “Bree. I do love you. Now. And forever. If I didn’t know it before, I know it now. You don’t know what I’ve been through...without you. I couldn’t work or think. I was utterly worthless without you. I want you and our baby...more than anything.”

  He set his coffee cup down as she circled his neck with her arms. Her hands moved gently through his hair, which was still damp from his shower.