CHAPTER 2
Jannie
Jannie started to rise. Blake stepped close, slipping his hands under her forearms.
“Steady,” he murmured as he helped her up. His gaze moved over her face, assessing. “Looks to me as if you’re dehydrated.”
“I’m fine.”
“You know better than that. You’re a doctor.”
She caught a whiff of his cologne. Her nostrils flared: Paco Rabanne, the familiar lemon and pine scent that always made her want to lean in for a deep inhale.
He let go of her arms, and Jannie leaned against the door. For a moment, he said nothing, taking her in, from messy hair to swollen ankles.
And then, bewilderment flashed in his eyes.
He blinked once, twice … She watched him process, swallowing hard as he stared at her pregnant belly.
At last, his gaze snapped to her face. “You most definitely are.” His voice was gruff. “Still very fine, indeed.”
And then, he grinned so wide that she had to blink a couple of times. The man had one of those disarming grins that would make you hand over anything he demanded. Purse, wallet, pants … and it was one of those times when he’d charmed the pants off her that landed her in this predicament.
On closer look, however, she saw that the smile didn’t reach his eyes.
Her stomach tightened.
“I’ll tell you what.” He motioned with his chin toward the door beside hers. “You can use my room to freshen up, and then we’ll head downstairs to sort out the problem with your key.”
We? There was no we. There hadn’t been for over a year now. And … his room? Right next to hers?
“Your room? Are you serious?” Her bladder chose that moment to spasm again, and Jannie clenched her teeth against the cramping blowtorch in her groin.
“I’m serious.” His jaw was working, but his tone was mild. “Let me help you. It’s what friends do.”
“Friends?”
He caught her gaze and held it. “I’m not your enemy, Jannie.”
You’re not my husband, either. But … did he want to be?
Jannie looked up at him in stupefaction. “You haven’t told me why you’re here. How on earth did you get the room next to mine?”
A sly smile curved his lips. “You told me about the ACOG convention months ago when you booked it with the miles account. I called and had them upgrade your room to a suite.”
“And booked one right next to mine?”
“I was going to surprise you.”
And to screw you. He didn’t say it, but then, he didn’t need to. It was written all over his face.
She swallowed. “Well, I’m surprised.”
He eyed her belly again. “Looks like you out-surprised me, though.” He motioned toward her Rimowa. “May I?”
Without waiting for a reply, he telescoped the handle and rolled the carry-on to his door, pulling a key card from his pocket. The lock flashed green, and he shoved open the door, pointing to the bathroom.
Gratefully, she ducked inside. Before pregnancy, she had never welcomed the sight of a toilet, except, perhaps, on the few nights she’d partied too hard in college. As quickly as she could, she sat, closing her eyes in relief as her poor bladder finally emptied.
The image of Blake, as he looked when he’d first seen her in the hallway, persisted as she washed her hands. The fact that he’d booked a room beside hers, assuming she’d fall into his bed again, annoyed her. But why wouldn’t he think that? It’s what she always did.
Jannie tried to swallow back the knot that clogged her throat the second he’d spotted the obvious. She’d been afraid. Afraid he’d be angry with her, even though he, too, had enthusiastically participated when it happened.
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.
But maybe … 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 time to 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—”
“Good. Don’t.” Jannie gritted her teeth. In the year since the divorce, she hadn’t been with anyone but him.
“Were you pregnant the last time we …?” He took a sip of Grey Goose.
She raised her chin. “No.”
He eyed her belly again, which was too large for any normal five-month pregnancy. “It was five months ago, if I recall correctly.”
Five months and three days.
“It was.”
He nodded and raised the glass to his mouth.
She couldn’t hold back a smirk. “There are two.”
That caught him mid-swallow. Blake’s eyes widened, and he coughed on a gasp. He looked so shell-shocked that Jannie pressed her lips together to suppress a laugh.
Blake coughed two more times, wheezing before he finally managed to compose himself. “Twins?”
“Yes, Blake, that’s vernacular for a dichorionic diamniotic pregnancy.”
He sat there for a moment. “Holy shit.”
She sipped her water. “Mm-hmm.”
“I didn’t … This is …” He closed his mouth and shook his head, and she distinctly saw terror in his eyes.
“A shock. Yes, I know.”
He passed a hand over his face. “When were you going to tell me?”
She looked him in the eye. “I wasn’t.”
“Why?”
Anger flashed in her, hot and swift. “Oh, I don’t know, Blake. Because we’re not together. Because you moved away, moved on, and I didn’t want to interfere in your new life.”
Because you always said kids were a deal-breaker.
For an interminable moment, he stared at her, his tight jaw working. “That makes no sense. Eventually, I would’ve found out.”
He finally looked away. Jannie felt the air leave her lungs in a long rush of relief, but before she could relax, his sharp gaze returned to her.
And dipped to her left hand.
“You’re not wearing them.”
She thumbed the place where her bridal set used to be. “No, I’m not.”
She’d continued wearing the rings after the divorce, feeling naked and weird without them.
And maybe, because he kept coming back, she’d held on to hope that he’d return for good.
The last time she’d seen him, she’d worn them.
But she was so devastated to hear him and his new woman that day that she slipped them off, and they’d been in her jewelry box ever since.
“Are you seeing anyone?” His voice was taut.
Jannie blinked. That wasn’t a question she’d expected. Her first thought was to tell him it was none of his business, but she found herself saying, “In this state? What do you think?”
“I take it that’s a no?”
Why is he asking? “What about you?”
He gave her a rueful half-smile, then shook his head.
“I thought you said you wanted to see where things would go with—”
“I did.”
“And?”
“And I saw where they went.” His middle finger circled the rim of his glass, and the memory of what that finger could do sent an involuntary shudder through her.
Jannie looked away. “So, when did you break up?”
“She’s not coming back.”