And fled.
She was gone, his bed empty when he woke and reached for her, hungry for her again. Her scent lingered on the pillow, fresh and feminine, taunting him in her absence as the soft light of dusk filtered through the curtains.
Just lust, he told himself, sinking back into the pillows. It was probably for the best that she had gone. It had probably saved them both some awkward moments.
Just sex.
He growled and pushed himself from the bed, striding to the bathroom.
Just sex? Was that how she saw it? She’d been molten in his hands. He’d taken her apart and put her together and taken her apart again. She hadn’t been faking it. He was too good at what he did not to recognise that.
And she’d just walked away.
Maybe it was better. Maybe she was right.
She was going to leave anyway.
Maybe it would make things less complicated.
He snapped on the shower, stepped in while the water was still cold and growled again as he put his face up into the spray.
But there were weeks to go before she left, he told himself, and he wasn’t done with lust just yet.
CHAPTER TEN
THE clinic was cool and welcoming as they entered, as only health practices could be. But it never ceased to amaze her that for a place promoting fertility, it managed to maintain such a sterile atmosphere.
Dominic walked stiffly by her side, his eyes still hidden under sunglasses, and Angie imagined his eyes beneath, unblinking and unforgiving.
But she could understand why his mood would suddenly darken, for this was the very same place that had offered her the option of getting rid of his child.
Maybe that was why he was here like a dark cloud to accompany her. Because he didn’t trust them. Welcome to the club, she thought, groaning a little, her bladder full to bursting point. If the clinic was running late, she might just explode right there in the waiting room.
But there was no waiting. Within ten minutes she was gowned up and lying on the examination table with towels strategically placed. Then her gown was pulled up and her belly exposed and gelled. The probe pressed into her swollen tummy, pressure she didn’t need, but she was distracted by Dominic by her side, the dark cloud vanquished, now looking agonisingly anxious as he was asked to be patient for a few minutes before the monitor could be turned.
Dominic patient? She smiled at the contradiction in terms, smiled at his furrowed brow and dark, worried eyes.
He really cares, she thought, as the man she’d thought a mountain looked achingly vulnerable and for a moment, just a moment, she wished he cared that way for her, not merely for the unborn child inside her.
And jealousy snaked its twisted way through her heart. For this was Carla’s baby he was concerned for. This was Carla’s baby he wanted—the baby she’d never been able to have. Carla—the woman he had loved and lost.
And so help her, but she was jealous of her. Jealous of a dead woman. What kind of woman was she?
Tears pricked at her eyes as she uttered a silent apology to the innocent child lying inside her. Whatever else happened, at least she had been able to do this for him. For them both. At least she had been able to give him Carla’s child.
‘Is everything all right?’ he asked, his patience wearing thin.
The radiographer smiled. ‘Everything looks perfect. Your baby is doing everything right. I’ll show you in a moment. Do you want to find out what sex it is?’
The question hung in the air, and beside her Dominic asked, ‘What do you think?’
The question was so unexpected, it winded her. He was asking her? She didn’t care, did she? She wasn’t supposed to care or have an opinion. It was a baby. That was all she needed or wanted to know. Besides, did it matter? Surely any child of Dominic’s would be a gift, boy or girl…
‘It’s your baby, Dominic. It’s your choice.’
And he looked down at her, his eyes studying her face, questioning. ‘No,’ he decided. ‘Don’t tell us.’
The doctor nodded and the radiographer swivelled the screen so they could see. Angie studied her feet. She’d found the six-week scan amazing. There was her baby, she’d thought, a tiny jelly bean with a heartbeat. She’d been fascinated by the tiny life, simultaneously racked with guilt that she had never really wanted a child, terrified at the thought she wouldn’t love it enough.
But the baby had never been hers and it had been a strange, sweet relief she’d felt to discover that. Escape.
The men’s voices washed over her while she lay there, terrified all over again. The fascination was there—it was impossible to deny that part of her that wondered what this creature looked like, this thing growing inside her that treated her more and more to night time jabs and swishing tumbles that caught her unawares and took her breath away.