Her suitcase was on a l
ow ebony bench. She opened it, her movements brisk, her head telling her that if she slowed down that brave thought of a moment ago would give way to despair.
Quickly, she dug out a bra and panties, a change of clothes. Five minutes in the bathroom—a fast shower, teeth brushed, wet hair drawn back in a low, no-nonsense ponytail—and she was dressed and ready.
The only thing she had to do, absolutely would do, was to see Ethan—no matter the objections she was sure Suki and Karim would make.
After that Karim’s pilot would fly her home—and where, exactly, was that?
Home, people said, was where the heart was. Ethan was the reason Las Vegas had been home. Karim was what had made New York her safe haven.
Now what?
Rachel sank down on the edge of the bed.
This was foolish.
She was accustomed to being alone. She had been alone before Ethan, before Karim. So what if she was alone again?
She’d be fine.
Needing others was always a mistake. Surely life had taught her that.
If she’d just kept her emotional distance from the baby, if she hadn’t let a man steal her heart …
No.
He hadn’t stolen her heart. She’d served it up to him on a platter.
“Stop it,” she whispered.
It was a waste of time to keep going over and over all this. The idea was to move on. She had to make plans, decide what town, what city she’d go to, then find a place to live, a job—
Someone knocked at the door.
It was probably one of the palace servants, come to tell her the plane was ready. Well, the pilot would just have to wait. She was not leaving here until she saw her baby …
The knock at the door came again.
Rachel ran her hands over her eyes and got to her feet. “I’m coming,” she called as she hurried to the door, pulled it open …
Karim.
The sight of him, dressed as casually as she was, in a T-shirt and jeans, his jaw bristling with early-morning stubble, sent a wave of longing straight through her.
He still looked like the man she’d fallen in love with, but he wasn’t.
She had to remember that.