“We were...estranged.” That was the understatement of the century. “But I’d expected my father and his wife to come here the day after Christmas.”
“So that’s why you had my room ready for guests.” Her eyes glistened with sympathetic tears. “How awful. I’m so sorry. I... I know what it feels like to lose your parents. I know how badly it hurts.”
“Yes,” he said, feeling like a fraud. Honora had clearly loved her own parents. If she knew the real reason he was upset...
Honora glanced at his half-empty glass of Scotch. “But you have to learn other ways to deal with your grief. Or it will eat you alive.”
Her hand felt soft and warm on his own. She was so close on the sofa, almost touching him, that he could feel the warmth of her, the heat of her body. She was so beautiful, with those haunting green eyes, and the massive amounts of damp, dark hair tumbling over her shoulders, leaving traces of wet on the white silk robe that barely contained her lush body. As he looked down at her, he felt an unbearable surge of desire. His gaze fell to her mouth.
Her lips parted as he heard her intake of breath.
Nico didn’t think. He didn’t hesitate.
Cupping her face with both his hands, he lowered his head and kissed her.
* * *
Honora’s lips parted in a gasp as his mouth seared hers.
His kiss was sweet, so sweet. For a moment, in her surprise, she was lost in a sensual haze. Her hands moved to his hair.
His embrace, which had started out so exploratory, so tender, turned hungry. He reached inside her silk robe—
Wrenching away, she stood up from the sofa. “No.”
Nico looked up at her. His hair was tousled, his dark eyes hazy with desire. His forehead furrowed as he stared up at her, as if he didn’t understand.
But Honora still remembered how lonely and cheap she’d felt after their night together, when she’d discovered Nico had left for Italy without a word. When she’d discovered she was pregnant. When he ignored her messages.
She had changed her life forever in that one night, just by loving the wrong man. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.
“Maybe you’re accustomed to women falling at your feet,” she said coldly, wrapping the robe around her pregnant belly more firmly, “but I won’t be one of them. So if you were trying to lure me into bed by pretending to have a heart, don’t bother.”
She started to turn to go, but as she did, he said in a low voice, “Don’t make it seem like I’m using you. I felt how you just kissed me. You want me, too.”
Honora could hardly deny it. She ground her teeth. “Even if that’s true, I’m not going to do anything about it. You’re not the right man for me.”
He didn’t move from the sofa. “How do you know?” He lifted his chin. “From the moment I learned you were pregnant, I’ve tried to take responsibility. I proposed marriage. I made you tea.”
“And am I supposed to be grateful?”
“I even told you about my father, something I’ve shared with no one else on earth.” His dark eyes glittered in the flickering firelight of the salon. “What more do you want?”
What more did Honora want?
So many things.
She wanted to be the naive twenty-four-year-old she’d been, with her whole life ahead of her and no need to rush to make plans or decisions. She wanted her grandfather to be happy, and to know that she wasn’t a burden to him. She wanted to have a college degree and a lucrative career so she could get her own apartment and provide for her baby and pay her bills without worry.
She wanted to fall in love, really in love, with a man who would love her back with his whole heart. She wanted him to propose because he loved her—not out of sense of duty, which was the unromantic reason her own parents had married, and her grandparents, too.
She wanted a joyous wedding attended by their friends and family, who were all ecstatic because they thought the two of them so perfect together. She wanted a happy family for her daughter in a real home, where she’d never feel like Honora had, like a burden no one truly wanted.
With an intake of breath, she whispered, “I want more than you can ever give me.”
Never taking his eyes from her, Nico rose to his feet. He towered over her, making her feel delicate and petite, even at six months pregnant. He stood close, without touching her, and as their eyes met in the flickering red shadows, he made her feel so alive. He said in a low voice, “You don’t know that.”
“Wrong. I do.” Her teeth were chattering with the effort it took not to lean forward, to be closer to him, to be embraced in the circle of his warmth and power.