She recalled the day she mustered the courage to call him, only to hear a woman’s voice in the background as he casually admitted he was involved with someone new. She lost her nerve and quickly ended the conversation, fearing he would insist she do the unthinkable.
He’d made it clear he never wanted children; the thought of fatherhood horrified him.
Butmaybe … maybe?
Hope sprang, as ever, in a far corner of her heart. The truth was, she hadn’t been able to accept him leaving; part of her still believed he would eventually return.
Jannie took out her double-comb hair clip and used it to fix the mess that had been a neat chignon. Her blonde hair had grown thicker with pregnancy, making it difficult to tame the tresses that now seemed to have a mind of their own.
She eyed her chapped lips, cursing herself for leaving her handbag on top of the Rimowa. She needed some lip gloss and a touch of blush, too. She looked too pale, but because of hormones that could shift and make her look beet-red, she never wore makeup these days. Just a touch of mascara on her pale lashes to make it look as if she actually had them.
She finished with her hair and started to pinch some color back to her cheeks but changed her mind. She hadn’t even thought of fixing herself up since the divorce. She only did it for Blake on the rare occasions he showed up at her door with that glint in his eye that signaled he was there for yet another booty call.
And she could never resist him.
With one last critical look at herself, she left the bathroom.
She found him standing by the window, gazing out at the undulating fountains of the Bellagio. He had removed his suit jacket. A powder-blue shirt clung to his shoulders. She ran her gaze down to his slim hips, where his navy trousers hugged his ass. He still looked good, damn him.
He pivoted then. She jerked her gaze up, settling it on his face in timeto catch a smirk before he schooled his expression.
“Feeling better?” He sipped from a glass containing ice cubes and clear liquid. Picking up an identical one, he held it out. “Drink up.”
She eyed the two open mini bottles of Grey Goose on the black granite counter and hesitated for a second.
“It’s water.” He thrust the glass at her. “You need the fluids. I need the vodka.”
“Oh.” She took it from him. “Thank you.”
She took a sip, then drank the whole thing.
“More?” His narrowed gaze fixed on her, assessing.
She swallowed back her nerves. “Yes, please.”
He opened the mini fridge and bent to reach inside, the glass clinking as he pulled out another bottle. Her eyes refused to leave his broad back and tight ass. She wanted to walk up and press herself against him.
He turned and caught her looking, and a smirk curved his lips. “Sorry, they only had one still. This one is sparkling.”
She held out her glass for the refill, watching the water gurgle out and fizz.
Blake motioned toward the suite’s seating area. “Want to talk now, or would you rather go downstairs and get another key first?”
Her feet throbbed. She also wanted to have it out and get it over with.
“No rush. I saw the crowds down there.” She headed toward an armchair.
He nodded as he sank into the one opposite her.
“So,” he began. The one syllable hung in the air. Blake smiled a little. “You look great.” His gaze moved to her breasts, which were quite a bit larger now. Her usual breast size was a flaw in his eyes; she knew he liked big boobs, and once, he’d even hinted she should go for breast augmentation.
She sipped her water. “Thank you.”
“Even in your current condition.”
Condition? That irked her. “Let’s call it what it is, Blake.”
“Fine. You’re pregnant.” His lips thinned. “I’m not going to ask if it’s mine—”
