He slid into her slowly, wanting this to last, knowing it wouldn’t. He’d desired her, ached for her since Cannes. Wondered if he’d imagined how good they were together.
He hadn’t. No, those dreams he’d had every night since were spot-on.
Bronson shoved aside all thoughts, focusing on the woman writhing in his arms, whispering his name. In no time she shuddered against him, sending him into his own tailspin. He held on to her until they both stopped shaking and silently vowed to make this better later in that promised bed.
As he eased back, he couldn’t help but wonder how this would affect their…what? Relationship? They didn’t really have a relationship. They’d supposedly made a child, but what should he call what they had?
Regardless of what this arrangement was called, he knew he wanted Mia again and he had no intention of leaving her house tonight. And the deeper he became involved with her, the more he wanted to trust every word that came out of her mouth.
Mia poured an after-dinner drink for Bronson and moved into the living room where he’d settled and was flipping through to find a movie, his gloriously tanned broad shoulders and bare chest on display for her to appreciate.
“Really?” she asked, setting his drink on the glass side table. “A movie?”
He eyed her. “We can start one, but if you try seducing me, I reserve the right to turn it off.”
Was he actually going to stay? Did he want to play house? Mia was so confused by his actions because they contradicted his words. She didn’t want to play games, didn’t want to wait around until he decided where they stood. She just didn’t have the emotional stamina for it.
“We need to talk,” she told him, sitting down beside him. “I’m all for what happened before dinner, but I have to be honest—I’m not looking for a fling, Bronson. I think there could be something between us if we could just be honest with each other and not keep this so shallow.”
His hand froze on the remote before he laid it down on the table. “I’ve told you I can’t offer more to a woman, Mia. I just can’t. You know why.”
“I know what happened in your past,” she retorted. “Let go of it and move on. Let those wounds stay covered and stop reopening them.”
He turned his head and sighed. “Mia, I’m not looking for happily-ever-after. I used to, but that’s gone. Now I’m focused on work, and I have more than one project going. What I have to offer is minimal.”
Meaning sex. Mia placed a hand on his arm. She knew he was softening—she’d seen it in the doctor’s office when he’d heard their baby’s heartbeat. She also knew their chemistry was amazing. So many elements to make for a wonderful family if he would just open his eyes to the possibility.
Patience. She had to learn patience if she wanted to forge a family with Bronson. And if the compatibility wasn’t there, then she’d let it go. But she had to try. Her heart had already gotten entangled with him.
Mia started unbuttoning Bronson’s dress shirt, which she’d thrown on before dinner. One by one his eyes traveled the path of her fingers.
“Then I’ll take what you have to offer,” she told him, shrugging out of the oversized shirt. “But I won’t stop trying to make you happy and to show you how good we could be together.”
She came to her feet, allowing the garment to slide down her arms and puddle on the floor. With a quirk of her brow, she walked from the room, knowing he’d follow.
She wanted him in her bed. She wanted to pull him just a bit deeper into her personal space. Little by little, she wanted him to realize that she meant business. Seduction came in all forms and Mia planned on using them all to get her man.
The couch rustled and she didn’t have to turn to know he was only steps behind. She padded down the hall into her master bedroom. The evening sun glistened in her high windows, casting a pale glow onto her bed.
By the time she’d removed her mound of silk throw pillows and turned, Bronson stood in the doorway, gloriously naked. Mia extended her hand, inviting him to join her.
He closed the space between them, taking her hand in his. And as they came together, Mia knew in her heart this is where she was meant to be, where they were meant to be.
Bronson kissed her with so much passion, so much hunger, Mia nearly wept with anticipation. There was no way this man could be so giving and caring and only have physical feelings for her. She refused to believe it.
Grasping his broad shoulders, Mia eased down onto the bed, pulling him with her. She sank into the duvet, reveling in the delight of his weight on top of her.
He pulled up as if to move. “The baby?”
“Is fine,” she assured him. “You’re not hurting either one of us. I like you here.”
Gently, he eased back down, trailing kisses over her face, her neck, her collarbone. Mia slid her hands up and down his muscular back as she lifted her knees.
In one smooth, toe-curling move they were one. Mia held tight to this man she was coming to care about more and more. She knew it wasn’t a stretch to say she was falling in love with him.
Perhaps that was just the baby situation talking, but she didn’t think so. He was caring, though cautious. He was loyal to everyone in his life and expected the same in return.
She’d tried to steel herself from falling for Bronson. Good Lord, considering his past, she didn’t blame him for having trust issues. But that vulnerability beneath his alpha exterior had her melting, and she could see, could feel, that he was coming around. If he truly didn’t believe her, he wouldn’t be with her so much. And if she didn’t think he had feelings for her—beyond sexual feelings—she wouldn’t let him sleep with her.
Mia would prove, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she wasn’t lying about her feelings for him or about the baby.
But as pleasure consumed her, a niggling thought invaded her mind. She was lying, and that lie did involve Anthony.
Bronson took Mia’s hand as he led her into the doctor’s office for the ultrasound. The test was delayed for a week because the ultrasound tech had been ill, which irked Bronson, but here they were and Mia was fifteen weeks pregnant. He’d seen the little stars on her calendar hanging by the fridge. Every Thursday had a star with a number. He knew Mia was excited about the baby. And he hated to be pessimistic, but he had to rein in his own excitement until he knew for sure where he stood.
A part of him screamed that she was not lying, would never lie to him. But another part kept butting in and reminding him of the last woman who claimed to be carrying his child. Why couldn’t he separate the two in his mind?
They took a seat in the private waiting room until it was their turn, which wasn’t very long. As they went into the ultrasound room, Bronson helped Mia step up onto the table.
“Good afternoon,” the tech said, coming in right behind them. “Feeling okay, Mia?”
Mia nodded. “Morning sickness has been gone for about a month, and I’ve never felt better.”
The tech smiled as she laid Mia back and pulled her shirt up to her bra. “You’re into your second trimester. Most women have a huge burst of energy during this time. No cramping or anything?”
“Not anymore.”
Bronson stood beside the table, and when the tech put the scope on Mia’s stomach and pointed to the screen, his heart literally constricted. He grabbed Mia’s hand as he looked at the small, beating heart.
“I’ll take some measurements to be sure of the due date, but it looks like your baby has a nice, strong heartbeat.”
Bronson looked down to Mia, who was staring at the screen with watery eyes. “That’s so amazing,” she whispered.
The tech tapped a few buttons, moved the scope and tapped some more. “You’re exactly fifteen weeks and one day. Looks like your due date is Valentine’s Day.”
Good Lord, that seemed so far away. This was just the start of September.
“A Valentine’s baby?” Mia asked. “How appropriate, since I love her so much already.”
The tech laughed. “We can schedule your next appointment for one month out and at that time we’ll see if we can determine the sex of the baby. Assuming you want to know.”
Mia looked to Bronson. “I’d like to. Would you?”
The sex? That would make this child all the more real to him, but as he glanced up at that little beating heart, he knew he was already sucked in. This baby was real and, he hoped, his.
“I’d like that,” he said.
Mia’s smile spread across her face. Between seeing this child and spending so much time with Mia lately, he was starting to fall into a role he wasn’t sure he was ready for. And he was beginning to see Mia as the honest woman his mother had always claimed she was.
The tech wiped off the gel she’d put on Mia’s slightly rounded belly. “The receptionist will make that appointment on your way out.”
Once they made the appointment and left, Bronson settled Mia in the car.
“Would you like to go out for a late lunch?” he asked.
“I’d love to, but I’ve got so much I need to do. Can you just drop me off at the main house?” she asked.
Disappointment speared through him, not something he expected. “Sure.”
Mia stared down at the glossy black-and-white pictures the tech had given them. “I don’t know that I’ll get much done today. I may just have to look at our baby.”
Our baby. He was getting used to those words.
“If you show those to my mother, I guarantee nobody will be working.”
“I wasn’t sure you’d want me to show them.”
Bronson spared her a glance, hating how he always saw uncertainty in her eyes. “She knows we went.”
He didn’t want to admit that his mother had no doubts about this child’s paternity. How could the woman be so sure? Granted Mia never gave him reason to doubt her. But in his mind the black mark against her was her relationship—whatever it may be—with Anthony Price.
“It’s okay, Bronson. I don’t mind keeping these to myself. I understand that you don’t want her to get attached yet.”
Mia’s words sent an ache through him. He knew she wanted to share her excitement. After all, she really had no one else in her life.
And that right there was all the more reason for her to try to trap him into a family.
Dammit, he wished he weren’t so cynical, but he had to be careful. He hated the thought of more scandal coming to his family.
Eleven
Déjà vu?
Bronson slammed the paper down onto the dark wood tabletop. He’d come to Saturday brunch at his mother’s and had been greeted with today’s “news”—a picture of him and Mia coming out the back door of the doctor’s office. As if the image of Mia, a hand protectively on her belly, with him at her side weren’t telling enough, the damning article went on to talk about “Dane’s second chance at a family” and Mia “bed hopping from one Hollywood hotshot to another.”
This was the only drawback to his career. He couldn’t even have a private life. Of course, after Mia’s rumored affair with Anthony, she was great fodder for the media, as well.
“I’m sorry, Bronson.”
Bronson turned from his cushioned chair to see Victoria standing next to him. As always, she appeared the picture of chic with her wraparound, sleeveless navy dress, gold jewelry and perfectly coiffed blond hair held back by her sunglasses.
Her eyes darted back down to the paper. “I just saw that earlier and tried to reach you, but my call went to your voice mail.”
“Don’t be sorry, Tori.” Bronson came to his feet, placing a peck on his sister’s cheek. “It’s not your fault the media sniffed out this story. It was bound to happen. I just hope they leave Mia alone.”
Victoria took a seat next to him and smiled. “I knew you cared for her.”
“Yes,” he said cautiously, because Victoria always had love on the brain. “I care. We’re not planning a wedding or even playing house together. But I do care.”
A little more than he was comfortable with.
Victoria waved a hand in the air. “I know you like to keep your feelings to yourself, so I won’t say I told you so when you propose.”
“Propose?”
Bronson groaned as he turned to see his mother only a few feet away. “No. There’s no engagement. Tori’s just fantasizing. Again.”
Olivia kissed both her children on the cheek before taking a seat at the patio table under the bright California sun, shielded by a vibrant orange umbrella.
“Well, I for one would be all for bringing Mia into the family,” Olivia declared. “She’s a wonderful woman.”