"We're shooting the garden scene right now." Reaching for the tub of cocoa butter, he lifted her shirt and started applying the cream over her mound. It still gave him a jolt to see her swelling with his seed inside her.
"Oh! I love that scene, and I'm sure they will do justice to it." Her eyes gleamed in excitement. "I know Clara is supposed to be telling Jack that she is breaking things off with him. You recommended a different approach from that of the writer's. Clara would be rushing from the gala in tears when she witnessed Jack dancing with her sister. And he would follow her out."
He smiled as he continued rubbing slowly. "You were paying attention."
"I love the way you work. I witnessed firsthand your magic in turning a mundane plot into something twisty and sinister."
"Is that so?" he asked with lifted brows.
"Yep." She laughed softly. "Remember the episode 'Caught in the Act'?"
"The one where you had to rat out a fellow officer?"
Her smile widened. "That very one. You changed the ending. You wanted violence and emotions. I thought you were wrong, but it turned out it was the right call."
"That's why I'm the producer," he told her loftily.
"And the ego to match."
"They go hand in hand."
Love shone from her eyes and had his heart quickening. "You're brilliant," she told him softly. "If you hadn't made the wise decision to enter the world of movies, we would have lost out."
He stared at her with narrowed eyes. "Why do I get the feeling you're softening me up for something?"
She merely flashed him her famous smile. "How about that tea?"
"Opportunist," he grumbled. Bending his head, he brushed his lips on hers. "Coming right up."
She watched him walk out of the room, her smile fading as he closed the doors behind him. Sitting up straight, she rubbed her chest where the heartburn felt as if someone was pressing burning coals into her stomach. She was getting all the symptoms and getting them in spades. She had not told him about the constipation or the dizziness, for fear he would insist on taking her to the clinic. She was in constant dialogue with the doctors, and her online support group was a tremendous help. She also did not share with him that one woman had lost two of her babies and had never gotten over it.
The women had warned her about PTSD.
One woman had been frank in her discourse. "My husband and I wanted children to the point where we would have done anything to make it happen. We went the IVF way and ended up with quads. Only one survived. That was six years ago and I'm still doing therapy. We questioned ourselves and, of course, God, asking what we did wrong. It's so unfair to think that there are people out there abandoning their children, and we who are able to offer love and care have been denied the privilege of bearing children the normal way."
The woman's bitterness had come through her message and had Eliza wondering.
"That was quick." Forcing a smile to her lips, she accepted the tray. "You found saltines."
"In the pantry." His silver gaze scanned her face. "What's the matter?"
"Aside from the usual queasiness and discomfort? Nothing much. Hmm, this is good. Look at you being domesticated."
"One of my hidden talents." Taking the cup from her, he put it down. "We promised each other transparency and I'm holding you to it. What's going on? And if you think of evading the question, I have to remind you how persistent I can be." His implacable tone warned her that he was going to sit there until she told him what was bothering her.
"It's the online group." Picking up her cup, she wrapped her hands around it to ward off the sudden chill.
"What about it?"
"A few women suffered losses."
"And you're wondering if you're going to be doing the same? What happened to being positive?" he chided gently.
"I've been projecting positive energy, but something one of the women said has been haunting me." She lifted her eyes to his. "What if I forced this? What if we weren't supposed to have children?" She put the cup down without taking a sip. "I was so bent on being a mother that I did not think this through all the way."
"That's utter BS and you know it," he rejected her reasoning firmly. "You have been thinking about this for years."
"Yes," she agreed. "But what if I wasn't meant to be a mother? And considering my history, that makes sense."
