I shrink into the mattress on an offended snort. “Don’t be stupid! I’m barely pregnant.”
“I’m not being stupid.” His hand flattens and strokes softly. “It’s faint, but it’s there.” He leans down and kisses my belly before propping his head on his bent arm again. “I know this body, and I know it’s changing.”
I frown and look down at my stomach, but it looks perfectly flat to me. He’s seeing things now. “Whatever you say, Jesse.” I’m not arguing after that perfect moment, even if I do want to slap him for insinuating that I’ve put on weight.
He leans down again and gets his mouth up close to my abdomen. “See, peanut? Your mother’s learning who has the power.”
“No peanut!” I throw my head up and lob him a mighty scowl. He’s grinning at me. “Think of another name. You’re not referring to our child as something disgusting that you obsess about and devour daily.”
“I obsess about you. I also devour you daily. But I can’t call our baby a defiant little temptress.”
“No, that would be wrong.”
He jumps up and straddles my hips, pinning my wrists down, but still not resting himself on my stomach. “Let me call our baby peanut.”
“Never.”
“Sense fuck?”
“Yes, please,” I reply way too hopefully, grinning.
He laughs and kisses me chastely. “Pregnancy’s making you a monster. Come on. My wife and peanut must be hungry.”
“Your wife and baby are very hungry.”
His greens twinkle and he pulls me up from the bed, dressing me first before he pulls on his own clothes. I step into his chest and remove his hands from his collar, taking over the fastening of his buttons while he watches me quietly. Reaching around his back to tuck his shirt into his trousers, my cheek rests on his chest as I take my time making him look presentable.
“Belt?” I ask, as I pull away from him. He stoops down and retrieves it from the floor, handing it to me on an amused smile. I take it, returning his smile, and start feeding it through the loops of his trousers and buckling it up. “You’re done.”
“No, I’m not.” He nods at his shoes. “If you’re going to do a job, do it properly.”
I ignore his insolence, instead pushing him down so he’s sitting on the end of the bed. I kneel in front of him, resting my bum on my heels, and start putting his socks on. “Is this okay for you, Lord?” I yank at a few of the dark blond hairs at the bottom of his shins.
“Fuck!” He reaches down and rubs his shin. “There was no need for that.”
He slips his feet in his shoes and stands, grabbing his jacket and stuffing his tie in the pocket, all the time frowning at me. “You really are a monster.”
I smile sweetly, prompting his frown to iron out and his lips to twitch. “Ready?” I ask.
He shakes his head and takes my hand, leading me from our room, down to the bar. I’m placed on my usual stool, and Mario is with us in a heartbeat.
“Mrs. Ward!” His cheerful accented voice draws the usual response from me.
I smile. “Mario, it’s Ava,” I scorn him lightly. “How are you?”
“Ah!” He flips a bar towel over his shoulder and leans forward. “Very well. What would you like?”
“Two waters,” Jesse interjects swiftly. “Just two waters please, Mario.”
I flip critical eyes straight to my husband, who has seated himself on the stool next to me. “I might like some wine with my dinner.”
He’s not at all perturbed by my reproachful glare. In fact, he doesn’t even look at me. “You might, but you’re not having any.” Mario scoots straight off, while I glare at Jesse, but he still refuses to face me, instead signaling Pete over. “Two steaks, Pete. One medium, one well-done. No blood whatsoever.”
The confusion in Pete’s face is obvious, and the disbelieving look on mine must be clear, too. “Urhh…yes, Mr. Ward. Salad and new potatoes?” Pete asks. His puzzled eyes have drifted across to my dumbstruck face. I can feel them on me, but I’m too busy staring at my impossible husband to acknowledge him.
“Yes, just make sure one steak is thoroughly cooked.” Jesse accepts the bottled water from Mario and starts pouring mine into a glass. “Is there egg in that salad dressing?”
I actually choke on a cough, not that it makes a bit of difference. Poor Pete has no idea what’s going on. “I’m not sure. Should I check?”
“Yes. If there is, leave the salad with the well-cooked steak undressed.”
“Okay, Mr. Ward.”