LUKE TOOK A swallow of Scotch, letting the smoky amber liquid warm him from the inside out. He glanced at his watch and debated tossing Claire over his shoulder and carrying her out the door. If they didn’t leave within the next fifteen minutes, they’d be late for the Ashton Court opening and he hated being late.
She’d spoiled him. He’d gotten used to her getting ready as fast as he did. It was funny; he’d been with women who’d taken hours to dress who didn’t look as polished as Claire did after half an hour. She was effortless. Most of the time anyway. He had no idea what was going on with her tonight. The makeup artist left almost half an hour ago. All she had to do was slide her dress on, so what was taking so long.
Maybe she was feeling sick. His thoughts spiraled from there to Claire having a problem with the baby. Setting down his drink, he headed down the hall to their room, determined to see for himself and stop his thoughts before they went to full on crazy. When he pushed open the door, he found her standing at the foot of the bed. She was so still, his heart stopped for a moment, but the expression on her face wasn’t pain or worry. If anything it was wonder.
“Claire?” He took a step toward her but stopped short not wanting to spook her. “Is everything okay, sweetheart?”
She looked up at him, her hands on her stomach and her eyes wide.
“Better than okay,” she said finally moving. “I felt it. I felt our baby.”
“What?” He’d heard her but the words weren’t registering.
“The baby. I felt the baby.” She blinked fast and he knew she was trying not to cry.
She’d had a stylist help her with her hair and makeup. He imagined she didn’t want to risk messing it up.
“I was putting on my jewelry,” she said. “And I felt this flutter, like if a butterfly flapped its way across my stomach. At first I tried to brush it away. I thought it was a bug.”
She reached for him, taking his hand and placing it on her stomach. He couldn’t feel the baby. He hadn’t expected to – not yet. The books he’d been reading said it would probably be a couple more weeks, but he felt the tight roundness of her uterus and gazed down into her eyes filled with love for their child. His chest tightened so much. It was as if someone was squeezing the air from his lungs, like he was somehow evolving into a new species that lived on love instead of oxygen.
He knew in his soul that he’d love her forever, and that she was the only other person on the planet who could possibly love their child as much as he did. She was his, and they were a family, but more than that, he was hers. Completely and totally, without reservation. He dropped to his knees in front of her, his hands gripping her hips, feeling the heat and gentle swell of her curves through the draped amber fabric of her dress.
The words begging her to marry him hung on the tip of his tongue. It was what he wanted, what he needed, but remembering how she’d looked at him the first time he asked her made him hesitate. He’d promised not to push, and he always pushed. He’d show her he could wait until she was ready, letting her lead instead of rolling over her with what he wanted. He pressed his cheek to the firm round swell of her belly sheltering their child inside. Claire held him to her, stroking his hair and when he looked up, tears streamed down her face.
“Are you okay?” he asked, hurrying to stand.
“Perfect,” she said nodding. “Everything is perfect.”
IT TOOK FIVE minutes after she stopped crying to fix her makeup, but they still managed to make it to the Ashton Court building in time for the opening. There was a staff photographer at the door when they pulled up but none of the paparazzi as there had been at the 609 West opening. The building glowed, warm and inviting. The exterior floods Claire’s crew installed, combined with the fixtures on either side of the door, had exactly the effect she’d imagined they would.
It was amazing what a change a few days made. The construction trailer and storage containers were gone, leaving no evidence of where they’d stood for months. There were flower beds instead, filled with new plantings, and anything that hadn’t been dug up or paved was covered with a fresh layer of mulch. In a few months, when everything filled in, it would be perfect, but it still looked finished and polished, if a bit new.
“You did good, Masters,” she said, sliding out of the car and reaching for his hand.
“We did good.” He brought her hand to his lips, brushing a kiss over the backs of her fingers before guiding her to the front of the building to take the obligatory PR shot. “It’s a better building because of you, Claire. You know that don’t you?”
The easy way he gave her credit for the improvements she’d made to the lighting plan made her feel warm and proud.
“Of course,” she said flippantly, trying to lighten the mood before she dissolved into an emotional puddle. Her hormones were already dodgy at best. “It was a disaster before I got my hands on it. People would have been eating their fifty dollar chicken in the dark.” She repeated what she’d told him the first time they met. It was hard to believe how much had changed since then.
“You’re absolutely right,” he said, and then the door opened, and any smartass response she’d been about to give, died on her lips.
It was beautiful, the reality finally matching the image she’d had in her head. People in formal evening clothes were scattered throughout the lobby with even more spilling from the front of the restaurant. She knew Eric had recommended the young chef to Luke when he was looking for a tenant. If the crowds were any indication, people were as eager to taste Chef Amstel’s food as Eric thought. It would still be a few weeks before the restaurant was up and running, but the chef had been eager to cater the party and have a chance to impress and entice potential clients.
“Come,” said Luke steering her past a server holding a tray of flutes filled with champagne. “Let’s go get you something you can drink.”
Keeping his hand on the small of her back, he steered her into the restaurant. The crowd parted at his approach. Luke was well known and more than handsome enough to be instantly recognizable. He squeezed offered hands and nodded his thanks at the murmurs of approval from the people around them, but he didn’t stop until they reached the bar.
Handing her a cranberry and club, he took a short glass of what she assumed was his customary Scotch from the bartender. It was too loud to hear with all the people circling the tables set with dozens of chargers holding different kinds of finger food. The food must be good, because people, including the women, seemed to actually be eating, instead of playing with the bruschetta they pretended to want at the other events Claire had attended.
“Hungry?” Luke asked.
It seemed lately Claire was always hungry, but she didn’t want to eat here. It wasn’t the food. It looked amazing, but she was feeling a little overwhelmed and wanted a chance to get her bearings first.
“Not now,” she said.
“Then let’s go make my PR person happy so we can get out of here and back home.”
It tickled her to think how quickly the billionaire playboy had turned into a homebody. Hiding her laughter, she plastered her public smile on her face, took Luke’s offered hand and followed in the wake he cut through the room.
Luke introduced her to some local politicians and a few of the dozens of real estate people exploring the building. He made sure to stop every so often to make sure she was okay, and his attentiveness reinforced how much she loved him. With all the beautiful non-pregnant woman ogling him, it would have been easy for him to get distracted if he hadn’t seemed so completely devoted to her. No one but her parents had ever loved her like that, and even then, it was different. They’d loved her, but they’d belonged to each other.The way she belonged to Luke, said the small voice inside her head.
