Just a Little Misgiving (Shades of Deception, Book 3) (10 page)

"No. What about you?"

He reached past her and cupped warm water into his palm as his other hand loosened her robe.

She gasped as the water trickled a crisscross path over a single ivory breast.

"Put the pot down and turn around." When she didn't immediately comply, he extricated the handle from her grip and pivoted her with a firm grasp of the waist. His hands fit neatly into the curves that had expanded but were still shapely enough to test his limited control.

When she faced him, her eyes were wide and more than a little hazy.

"The only regret I have is waking up alone and wishing I could see you naked in the full light of day." He bent his head and lapped the water. A single bead trembled at the bud of her nipple; he sipped it, and when she sighed and wrapped her hands around his head to pull him closer, he tugged the robe loose.

He let his gaze rove hungrily over the full length of her body. She flushed an alluring shade of pink.

"You're not disappointed?" she asked with an anxiousness she couldn't hide. "I'm getting plump."

"Disappointed?" he repeated in disbelief, then laughed, amazed she could still be self-conscious about her changing body, especially after the intimacy they'd shared. "If I were any more disappointed, I'd short-circuit a fuse. In fact I'm tempting fate as it is." He drew her robe closed. His hands tensed at the lapels, and he pulled her up to him with a sudden, urgent demand.

Their lips were eager. Any lingering questions or stray doubts either one of them might have had were burned away by the searing fire of a single, scorching kiss.

"Now, tell me," he demanded, "do you need any more convincing of just how disappointed I am? Careful how you answer, Faith, because I'm dangerously close to laying you on this countertop and taking what I didn't take last night."

"No, you convinced me," she answered shakily even as she moved against him.

Careful
, he warned himself, desperately clutching at the frayed edges of his rational mind.
Be
very careful here. You've got too much at stake to risk taking too much too soon. Just because
she wants to sleep with you doesn't mean she'll marry you too.

Myles summoned his last ounce of control and moved away, not trusting himself to be within an arm's distance of her.

"Where do we go from here, Faith?"

Her eyes came wide open and she stared at him in confusion.

"Where? I'm not sure, Myles. I don't know exactly where this leaves us."

He couldn't look at her and not rush back to finish what he'd deliberately started. His gaze wandered around the room, then zeroed in on an open newspaper on the table. He went to it, to see if his disturbing suspicions were true.

"Damn," he muttered under his breath. More houses? Even after last night? He stifled a curse. He'd run out of legitimate complaints five houses before. "What in heaven's name is this, Faith?" he demanded, tapping the classified ad circled in red.

"It's a house for lease," she said evenly, turning to pick up where she'd left off with the coffee. "I found several possibilities," she added. "Maybe you'd like to look them over with me after work today."

"The hell I will," he growled before he could consider the wisdom of his response.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said, 'The... hell... I... will,'" he enunciated.

"But I thought you said you wanted to go with me."

"That was then. This is now."

"Have you got a problem, Myles?" she asked uncertainly, moving toward him with an empty cup.

"Yes, I do have a problem." He took the cup and set it in the middle of the paper with a
thunk.
Her stunned expression was enough to make him sufficiently recover himself and come up with an excuse for his outburst. "What I mean is, we already have other plans."

"We do?"

Glancing at the red ink, he hardened his resolve to see his plan through and pulled her firmly, insistently into his embrace. He threaded his fingers through her hair.

"Didn't I tell you? We have a dinner engagement with one of my biggest backers." Time was running out faster than he'd expected. He needed to set the mood and he needed to do it quick. "But after that I know where there's a band that plays only slow dances." He could feel her relax, lean into him until he groaned with the effort of restraint.

"And after that...?"

"After that," he said through taut lips, "we talk about why we're not looking at houses."

Faith burrowed her face into the warmth of his chest, hiding the pleased smile curving her lips.

Chapter 7

Faith sucked in her gut. The full-length mirror was unforgivably honest in its assessment. The short gold-lamé dress showcased her legs to their full advantage, but it hugged her middle, though once it had shimmered and freely swayed.

"I love you, baby, but you're not doing much for my ego," she muttered with an affectionate pat to her rounded tummy.

Slipping into a matching pair of heels that were snugger than she remembered, she paused when she heard Myles on the other side of the wall shutting a drawer. She wished she could watch as he went through his dressing ritual.

Did he put on his shirt before his pants, or his tie before his shoes? A thrill rushed through her as she thought of undressing him in reverse. The prospect was becoming more real with each day they lived together.

Smiling, Faith applied a sinfully-rich ruby shade of lipstick. He didn't want her to move into a house of her own. If she could only be sure his motives had nothing to do with the baby. She hated the niggling doubts of uncertainty, her own insecurities, which persisted despite the intimate turn of their relationship.

Where did his feelings for her begin and those for the baby end? If she wasn't carrying his child, would he want her as much, or care so deeply, or come close to a hissy fit because she kept looking for another place to live?

"Oh, stop it, would you?" she grumbled. "Quit acting like a woman who's jealous of her own child and so unsure of herself, she doesn't want to share."

After all, she'd been sharing him for so long, she should be used to it by now, shouldn't she? No, dammit. She needed him to want her for herself alone and for no other reason. Was that so much to ask?

A tap at the door caused her palms to sweat. Stealing a last glimpse at the mirror, Faith had to admit she did have a certain appeal, despite motherhood's generosity.

She grabbed her matching sequined bag and opened the door.

Myles stood with his elbow braced against the frame. His gaze traced downward from the seductive pile of her upswept hair to the flushed expectation of her glowing face and the sensual shimmer of the sexy dress that looked better on her now than when he'd seen it two Christmases before.

He whistled, his anxiety over how he was going to propose before the night was over, momentarily forgotten. "Lady," he growled, "you are a knockout. I'm starting to wonder if it's your personal mission in life to push me over the edge."

"Like it?" She turned a full circle.

He caught her by the waist and pulled her against him. The lamé at her bosom connected against the starched front of his tuxedo shirt. His hand slid up her back and toyed with a coy curl brushing her nape.

"I love it," he murmured. "Just like I love—"

You.
The word lodged in his throat with a jolt. For a moment he was too stunned to fill in the gap. He'd almost said he loved her. Was he in love with Faith? Was that what all these new emotions and possessive instincts were about?

As she continued to stare at him wide-eyed, her lips parting as her breath caught with a soft, inviting gasp, he grappled with the possibility. His gaze settled on her lips, lips he wanted to nibble and devour until her lipstick was smeared and he licked the remains from her mouth.

"Your hair," he said roughly while he flirted with a pin holding it up. "I love your hair. But I'd love to take it down even better."

What did he see before she quickly covered her reaction with a teasing smile? Disappointment? Had she wanted more? Or had he simply wanted her to want more and imagined the softly sighed "Oh."

"I could wear it down, if you want."

"Leave it up. I can spend the night thinking about taking it down later."

"You make 'later' sound like a promise." She brushed her lips over his. "Or maybe a threat. You said we had to talk tonight."

"We'll talk, all right. But I'm learning you're better persuaded with the kind of language that doesn't require an abundance of words." His hands lowered to fan over her buttocks, and he pulled her to him.

She rubbed against him with a feline grace and he heard her purr of desire as he fit his tongue into the warm hollow in her throat.

"Lord, woman. I'd be jealous of all the men in the restaurant if I didn't know you were carrying my baby."

Her motions stilled and he looked at her quizzically. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No," she said faintly. "I... I just realized if we don't leave soon, we'll keep your people waiting. Let me grab my coat and we'll go."

Myles stared after her, uncertain what had turned the heated tide. He wasn't any closer to an answer as he took her purple coat and drew it around her with a kiss, which she didn't return with ample fervor.

Once in the roadster, he glanced over at Faith, who stared out the window with only an occasional half-smile in his direction.

"You're quiet."

"Just thinking about my work," she said evasively.

"I know your work's important, but my concern is that it doesn't interfere with your health."

"My health's fine," she retorted. "Quit fussing over me like a mother hen, okay?"

She studied the passing buildings with undue interest, avoiding his startled expression.

"Tight fit in this car," he said, hoping to ease the slight tension. "Once the baby's here, I think we'll need a bigger one."

"I have my sedan. It has plenty of room for me and a car seat."

Me and a car seat?
So much for his power of persuasion. His grip tightened on the leather-bound steering wheel.

"Don't I rate a space?" he asked with an edge of frustration.

"That depends," she said a bit shortly herself. "I usually drive my own car, and I'm sure the baby's things will take a lot of room."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means we both know this baby comes first, and you can park your buns in the trunk if you want to join us."

"I don't like the sound of that." He flipped off the CD player and in the sudden charged silence looked away from the road long enough to shoot her a glare. "You make it sound like the baby's all yours and I can tag along for the ride."

"Aren't you?" she said peevishly, returning his glare.

"For crying out loud, Faith, you're talking nonsense. We agreed this was
our
child. Not to mention what's happening between us."

"Us?"
she sniffed.

"Yes,
us.
What do you think last night was about?" He stopped the roadster short of the restaurant entrance where the valet stood waiting. "I've got the hots for the mother of my child. If that's a crime, I'm guilty. But you share the blame—strutting around in that bathrobe that's straining at the bust, wearing that dress that's going to have every man ogling you tonight so that I won't be able to keep my mind on business."

"I think you're giving me too much credit." Her lips tilted slightly upward, and he fought the urge to kiss them shut. Then she added hesitantly, "I doubt every man has a yen for pregnant women."

"This one does." He discerned the fading of her tentative smile. What was with her? Pregnant women! Who could figure them? Was she still feeling self-conscious about her figure? The heck if he knew, but it seemed as good a reason as anything for her mood swing.

"I like you pregnant," he added, hoping to put things right. "What's more, I'm thrilled as all get out that it's
my
baby. I can't wait to show you off to Larry and Carol."