I’d told myself it didn’t matter. He could pursue me as much as he wanted. I wasn’t going to marry him. And after that first amazing kiss in the garden, I stuck to my vow and never let him kiss me again. I think I was afraid what would happen if I did.
The time we’d spent together over the past month had been almost like Cornwall again—only far sunnier, of course, with summery blue skies and bright blue Pacific. And no sex. That was a big change. But that didn’t stop Edward from spending every moment with me, taking me out for dinner, giving me foot rubs, helping me shop for baby gear. I continued to sleep in my childhood bedroom at my stepfather’s house. One night, when I’d moaned about my cravings for watermelon and caramel pretzel ice cream, he’d showed up at the house with groceries. He’d had to throw a pebble against my window. Because it was three in the morning.
No man was this good. No man could work this hard for long. I couldn’t let myself fall for it, because there was no way it would last.
He’d made it clear what he wanted. Marriage. A shared home for our daughter. And me. In his bed.
But it wouldn’t last. Soon, his emotional breakdown—or whatever it was—would clear up, and he’d rush back to his selfish playboy workaholic life. As long as I never forgot that, or let down my guard, I told myself I’d be fine. But still...
“When are you going back to London?” I’d demanded yesterday. “How is St. Cyr Global managing without their CEO?”
Edward gave me a crooked grin. “They’ll just have to cope.”
He’d started accompanying me to OB-GYN visits. When he saw the first ultrasound images of our daughter, and heard her heartbeat, his eyes glistened suspiciously.
“Were those tears?” I asked as we left.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said gruffly, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “Dust in my eyes.” And to change the subject he offered to take me to dinner at a famous restaurant which cost around four hundred dollars a plate.
I shook my head. “Nah. I want a burger, fries, frozen yogurt. How about a beachside café?”
He smiled at me. “Sure.”
“You don’t mind?” I asked later, as we sat on a casual wooden patio in Malibu, overlooking parked expensive motorcycles, the Pacific Coast Highway and the wide ocean beyond.
“Nope.” Edward shook his head, smiling as he helped himself to one of my fries. “If you’re happy, I’m happy.”
For the past month, his only apparent job in California had been to take care of me. He treated me as if I were not only the mother of his child, and object of all his desire, but was in fact Queen of the World.
It was pretty hard to resist. In spite of my best efforts, he was slowly wearing me down. I found myself spending every minute with him that I wasn’t working.
It irritated Jason to no end. “You never have time for me anymore,” he grumbled when we ran into each other last week on a studio lot. “You’re falling for him again.”
“I’m not,” I protested.
But now, I felt so oddly bereft as I walked through Edward’s dark, empty beach cottage, I wasn’t so sure.
Could he have suddenly decided he was bored with me and the baby, and flown off to London in his private jet, forgetting that he’d begged me to come over tonight?
Remembering the glow in his eyes as we’d had breakfast that morning, waffles and strawberries at an old diner near the set where I’d filmed a commercial today, I couldn’t quite believe it. A low curse lifted to my lips.
Jason was right.
I was starting to trust Edward again.
Starting to let myself care.
Setting my jaw, I walked across the cottage and pushed past the white translucent curtains to the pool area in the back, with its view of the beach. “Edward?”