Blackmail & Secrets. Кейт Хьюит
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reasons she’d put off this encounter for so long—but she’d assumed that after what he’d done to her, knowing what she knew of him, the effect would be minimal. Ha!
It was as though a million invisible wires pulsed between them, sending signals from his body to hers, reliving the past, speculating on the future. In that glance was the feel of his skin, the taste of his lips, the heat of his mouth, the desire. It was all she could do to make herself take a step in his direction when every fiber in her being urged her to turn around and run.
She told herself that Ryder was like a vase of cut flowers, all show, rootless, and over an extended period of time, sure to wilt. She told herself he was a mannequin, not a man, that he was selfish and if she allowed it, he would hurt her again and not even know it.
He smiled at her as though this was their first meeting, as though the past didn’t exist. No matter what Ryder the man was like, no matter how deceiving he could be, his smile seemed to spring like well water from the depths of the earth, pure and simple and damn near impossible to resist.
She inhaled deeply, filling her lungs, and resisted.
He now looked puzzled. Well, in a few moments, she’d replace his expression with shock. Her step faltered as she approached him, but her resolve remained. It was now or never.
“Hello,” he said in his deep voice that still made her tingle, a knee-jerk reaction she thoroughly resented. His greeting was like a caress, intimate, somehow hinting that fate had designed this moment. Not for the first time, Amelia found herself thinking that Ryder had missed his calling—he should have been an actor.
“I need to talk to you,” she said.
Despite her abrupt response, a smile lingered on his beautiful lips. Leaning against the rock wall, arms crossed over his chest, his eyes full of life, he said, “Of course.”
She stared at the white rosebud pinned to his lapel. Her mouth felt dry. “This is difficult,” she said.
He furrowed his brow, as though confused as to why she would find talking to him awkward.
“Remember last March?” she mumbled.
His elegant eyebrows inched up his forehead. Amelia, whose face was already hot from the memory of the passionate night the two of them had spent stormbound in his apartment, felt even more flushed as he said, “Last March? Hmm…let me think.”
The twinkle in his eye told her all she needed to know. He was teasing her, winking internally, letting her know his life was full of romantic interludes that involved fervent lovemaking and promises never meant to be taken seriously. There were just so many women last March, he seemed to say with that smile. Give me a second to sort through them all.
But she didn’t give him a second. She placed her hand on his arm, a mistake she tried at once to rectify but which he halted by firmly placing his hand over hers and gently squeezing. As in the past, in fact, even more profoundly now, the touch of his warm fingers resounded through her body like a shout in a closet, and she involuntarily trembled.
She said, “Please. Please, just let me say this.”
He nodded. “Go for it.”
The fancy rehearsed words were gone, lost in a maelstrom of anxiety. She heard herself stammer, “I’m…well, I’m pregnant.”
The relief! The words were finally out in the open air where they were free to sink or soar. She chanced a look at his face, expecting to see the beginnings of anger as her statement and all its implications struck home, but instead he looked wistful.
Wistful?
His gaze sweeping her fuller-than-ever bust and the bulge that was there in her midsection if you knew to look for it, he said, “Congratulations.”
“What!”
He shook his head ever so slightly. “Congratulations. Isn’t that what one says? You look radiant. Luminous.”
He finally let her reclaim her hand and she held it to her cheek, momentarily stunned by his reaction—or lack of it. “Congratulations?” she repeated.
“Sure.”
“You’re not…upset?”
“Disappointed perhaps, but upset, no. Why? Should I be?”
“Well, no. I mean, I thought you might be. You always said you never wanted children.” Relief flooded her overloaded emotional system and she babbled on, almost oblivious to his increasingly astounded eyes. “I thought you’d be shocked, that you’d think I had purposely let myself get pregnant. Let me assure you I didn’t. It was all a mistake, but now that it’s happened, now that I’m used to the idea and have felt the baby kick and the nausea isn’t so constant…well, now I’m happy about it. Excited. In awe…”
“I—”
“No, let me finish.” Biting her lip, attempting to put the past behind them, she added, “Whatever you and I had together died the night I discovered your marriage proposal was just part of an elaborate scheme. I’m not here to discuss the other women, I’m not here for more accusations. That’s in the past. We’re in the past. I’m not trying to get you to marry me. I wouldn’t, even if you asked again, even if you meant it this time.”
She stopped for a breath, her mind racing, wondering if that last part was true, hoping it was, afraid it wasn’t. For months, in her mind, she’d downplayed her attraction to him, and now here it was again, stronger than ever, scary and forbidden. She had to keep her head. The stakes were too high to fall back into temptation. She was thinking for two….
“You know my dad left me a little money,” she continued before he could interrupt. “If I’m careful, it should last me and the baby for a couple of years. I’m moving back to Nevada so my aunt and uncle can help. When I saw your mom yesterday, I realized I couldn’t leave without telling you about this, Ryder.”
She took a deep breath. Her hands were shaking.
He looked as though she’d finally made sense and she momentarily wondered what part of her disclosure had pierced his slick veneer. Actually, considering his disposition, it was something of a miracle that he was still standing there, that he hadn’t bolted.
“Are you finished?”
“Well…yes. Yes, I’m finished.”
He stared directly into her eyes, projecting a laser-like beam that seemed to melt everything in the path between her irises and her heart. He said, “I can see how hard this…revelation…was for you to make. I hate to have to tell you this, but I’m not Ryder.”
For a second, his declaration was like mud slung at a brick wall. Amelia stood transfixed, staring, unbelieving, and then it hit her. Memories came racing back, pictures on top of the television, family stories told by Mrs. Hogan of twins, one of whom Amelia had never met. Ryder’s brother, the one who practiced law in California…
“Oh my God. You’re Rob,” she said woodenly.
He touched her arm. “If it’s any help, I’m delighted I’m going to be an uncle. I know I’ll be very good at it.”
“I can’t believe this. I’ve confessed to the wrong man!”
He nodded. For a moment, she wondered if Ryder was playing some elaborate ruse, but now that she reviewed this man’s reactions, she could see that he might look like Ryder, but he didn’t act like Ryder.
So what explained that intense sensual burst that had occurred between them? Had he felt it, too, or was it all in her head, a product of knowing she’d been intimate with him? Except she hadn’t. He wasn’t Ryder.
His voice gentle, he said, “What’s your name?”
“Amelia. Amelia Enderling.”
He offered her his hand and she realized he wanted to shake, as though this blundering encounter had been a formal introduction.