“Is that what you did the morning you left me? Stayed up and thought about why we needed to turn our backs on the best sex ever?” Dropping onto the edge of the bed across from her, he caught her gaze. Looked at the intensity of her blue eyes. She was damn sexy. Beautiful. And he wasn’t going to let her walk away as if this was nothing.
“Best sex ever? I like the sound of that.” She licked her lips seductively, leaned toward him, her breasts pressing against her glittery tank top.
So tempting. And definitely not the direction he needed to take with her.
He raised his brow at her. “You’re trying to distract me with your beautiful body.”
“And you are using flattery. We need more than that.” Crossing her arms, she scrutinized his face.
“I’ve made it clear I understand that. That’s what our time together has been about. But I am willing to use everything I have at my disposal. I am not giving up.”
“Everything?” She gestured to the flowers, the candy and a small jewelry box.
He’d forgotten about the gift he’d brought for her.
Pushing off the bed, he approached her, leaned on the arms of the chaise longue. He kissed her forehead, one arm around her, the other still cradling the box. “Flattery, which is easy because you are so very lovely. Charming words are tougher for me because I am a businessman, but for you, I will work so very hard with the words. And, yes, with gifts, too. Will you at least open it?”
She took the box from his hands, eyes fixed on his. Her fingers found the small bow. Gently, she slowly pulled the white bow off. The Tiffany box was bare, undressed now.
Erika lifted the lid, let out a small gasp. Two heart earrings encrusted in diamonds glinted back at her.
Gervais’s voice dropped half an octave. “It made me think of our children. Two beautiful hearts.”
He tucked a knuckle under her chin and raised it to see her face. Tears welled in her eyes.
Pulse pounding, he put his arms around her, held her tight to his chest. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
She shook her head, her silky blond hair tickling his nose. “It is sweet, truly. Thoughtful. A wonderful gift.”
Kneeling in front of her, he wiped the tears off her pale cheeks. He’d wanted to get her something meaningful. Drawing her hands in his, he kissed the back of each one, then the insides of her wrists in the way he knew sent her pulse leaping. He could feel it even now as he rubbed his thumbs against her silky skin. “I want this to work. Tell me what I can do to make that happen. It is yours.”
Her eyes flooded with conflicting feelings. It was as if he could see into her thought process where she worked so hard to weigh the pros and cons of a future. Somehow he knew she was at the precipice of the answer she’d been looking for. One he was scared as hell to receive.
And, cursing himself for his weakness, he couldn’t resist this one last chance to sway the outcome. To make her want to stay. So he kissed her deeply, ebbing away the pressure of speech to make room for the pleasure they both needed.
Eleven
Gervais had Erika in his arms and he wanted that to go on for... He couldn’t think of a time he wouldn’t want her. Every cell inside him ached to have her. So much so his senses homed in to her. Almost to the exclusion of all else. Almost to the point where he lost sight of the fact he’d left the door ajar.
And now someone was knocking lightly on that door.
With more than a little regret, he set her away from him and struggled to regulate his breathing before turning to the door to find...a security guard?
Hell. How could he have forgotten for even a second that his family’s wealth and power carried risk? They needed to stay on watch at all times.
Security guard James Smithson stood on the other side of the half-open door, his chiseled face grave.
Gervais had always liked James—a young guy, athletic and focused. James had almost made the cut for the team. The poor kid was in an interesting position; he’d declined a college football scholarship when his high school girlfriend became pregnant. James attended an online school while helping raise their son, but he’d shown up at a couple of Hurricanes training camps with impressive drive, even though his stats weren’t quite strong enough.
So before Dempsey could send him home, Gervais had taken him aside and found out he had skills off the field, too. He’d offered him help forming his own security company, making him a part of the Hurricanes family.
“Sorry to disturb you, sir, but we have some unexpected company.”
“I don’t accept unexpected guests. You know that.” Gervais stared at the guard. Who, to be fair, was doing a damn good job at not looking at Erika in her tight-fitting sparkly tank top that revealed her killer curves. Even so, he found himself wanting to wrap her up in a sheet. Just to be safe.
“I understand that, sir,” James assured him. “But...”
Erika looked back and forth between the guard and Gervais. “I’ll leave the two of you to talk.” She closed the jewelry box and clutched it to her chest. “If you’ll excuse me.”
James held up a hand. “Ma’am, I believe you’ll want to stay.”
Ericka’s face twisted in confusion. “I’m not sure how I can be of help—”
James scrubbed his jaw awkwardly. “It’s your family. Their limos are just now coming through the front gate.”
Gervais blinked slowly. “Limos?” Plural?
“My family?” Erika stammered, color draining from her skin. “All of my family?”
James gave a swift nod, his gun just visible in a shoulder harness under his sports jacket. “It appears so, ma’am. Both of your parents, four sisters, three of them married and some children, I believe?”
Gervais scratched the back of his head right about where an ache began. Talk about a baptism of fire meeting all the in-laws at once. So many. “I think we’re going to need to air out the guesthouse.”
* * *
The pressure of a headache billowed between Erika’s temples. As she stood in the grand living room, attention drawn outside, past the confines of this room, she felt everything hit her at once. First, her conflicting feelings for Gervais, and now this.
Her entire family, down to her nieces, was here. Now. Her eyes trailed past the bay windows to where Gervais, her father, Gervais’s brothers and his grandfather stood on the patio. Having drinks as if this was the most casual affair ever. As if this was something they had done together for years. Gervais had a gift with that, taking charge of a situation and putting everyone at ease.
She’d spent so much time focusing on the reasons to hold back, she forgot to look for the reasons they should. There was a lot to admire about this man. His obvious love of his family. His honorability in his standing up to care for his children. And the way he handled his business affairs with a mix of savvy and compassion. Her heart was softening toward him daily, and her resolve was all but gone.
And of course there was the passionate, thorough way he made love to her. A delicious memory tingled through her. She tore her eyes from him before she lost the ability to think reasonably at all.
Her father, Bjorn Mitras, slapped his knee enthusiastically at something Gervais had said. So they were getting along.
The mood inside the living room was decidedly less jovial. She could feel her sisters and mother sizing her up. Determining what Erika ought to do. And if she had to bet, getting her Master’s in Nursing wasn’t even on the table anymore. They’d never supported her ambitions. And if she was carrying a male child...well, they’d certainly have a lot of opinions to throw at her.
For the first time since learning she was pregnant, Erika felt alone.
She had hoped for an ally in Fiona, but Fiona hadn’t come to meet everyone. She wasn’t feeling well. Erika was not feeling all that great herself right now. Her family overwhelmed her in force.
Turning reluctantly from the bay windows, she studied her mother. Arnora Mitras had always been a slight, slim woman. Unlike other royals, she recycled outfits. But Arnora was a friend of many fashion designers. She was always draped in finery, things quite literally off the runway.
Her four sisters—Liv, Astrid, Helga and Hilda—stood in the far corner, discussing things in hushed tones. The twins, Helga and Hilda, both had the same nervous tic, tracing the outline of their bracelets. It was something that they had both done since they were little girls. Erika squinted at them, trying to figure out what had them on edge.
But it was Astrid who caught her gaze. Blue eyes of equal intensity shone back at her. Astrid gave a curt nod, her honey-blond bob falling into her face.
It was a brief moment of recognition, but then Astrid turned back to the conversation. Back to whispering.
Three of her sisters had married into comfort, but not luxury. Not like what the Reynauds offered. And they lived across Europe, leading quieter lives. No male heirs, no extravagance. A part of Erika envied that anonymity, especially now.