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“That’s not true!” I gasped, and he turned to me, his eyes so hot they burned. I stepped back, surprised, but his hand at my elbow stopped me.
He half turned and I found myself in a little alcove between a curtain and a giant potted orchid. It was quiet and warm and again, the whole world shrank, everyone disappeared, leaving us alone in a giant ballroom.
“You want to be here for you,” he whispered, his warm breath smelling like champagne and mint and making all the fine hair on my body rise up as if trying to pull me closer to him. “You want to believe that what you feel for me is nothing, or will go away. But underneath all your efforts to keep yourself collected and in control, what you feel for me scares you.”
He was right, more than right. He’d looked straight through me and read me like a newspaper.
“I…” I stammered, my hand at my neck. My blood pounded in my cheeks and I wished I could deny it, wished I could say anything, but I was stupid with my own feelings.
“That’s what I see on your face, Zoe.” He leaned away from me, utterly composed. Utterly closed off, as if saying these things, seeing this warring desire inside of me were no big deal. Not to him. The unreachable Carter O’Neill.
I yanked my arm free of his fingers, ignoring the way my skin tingled.
“Do you know how embarrassing it is that you see me so clearly and I don’t know a single thing about you? I can’t tell if this is a game to you, or are you laughing at me. I can’t—”
“Look at me,” he whispered.
“No!” I cried, slamming my eyes shut like a child.
“Zoe,” he breathed. “Just look at me. Please.”
I sighed and opened my eyes.
Magically, he’d changed. It was as if his skin had fallen off and I saw the beating heart in his chest.
He wanted me. In the same punched-in-the-stomach way I wanted him. And he was as surprised and baffled as I was by our attraction.
“We’re in this together, Zoe. Whatever—” his finger touched my chest and then his, drawing a line in the air, connecting us “—this is. Despite the way it started, despite the photographers…I’m with you.”
It was by far the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to me. And at this point in my life, the most unrealistic.
With me? I thought. Was that a joke? He was Carter O’Neill; he could have any nonpregnant woman in this city.
It hurt, all of it hurt. Being near this man hurt.
“Zoe?” he asked, squeezing my hand.
“Why?” I asked, the words tumbling out of my mouth. “I can’t be your usual…date. I’m five months pregnant.”
“I know,” he said. His eyes, in the shadows, were serious and warm. Hot, actually. “Trust me,” he said, laughing a little, “I know. And you’re beautiful, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
He lifted his hands as if asking permission to touch me, and I didn’t stop him. I should have, but my skin was dying for his touch, a desert without rain. His hands slid over my belly, pushing the dress over my skin, so warm and firm. “This part of you is amazing to me. You’re amazing. And you’re right. You’re not at all like the women I usually date. But I’m so glad about that, because those women don’t have a tenth of your warmth. Or humor. Right now, I couldn’t be happier, Zoe.”
The baby kicked him, right in the palm, as if summoned. As if saying “nice to meet you.”
“Wow,” he breathed. “I can totally feel the baby.”
I gasped at the pleasure of it all, his hands, my baby. My body. It was gorgeous. The most pleasure-saturated moments of my life.
I wanted to wrap my arms around him, put my fingers in his hair and just lay one on him, right here, in front of a hundred people, as if I didn’t have any control.
But I did. A little. Enough to step back and let cool air swirl between us, sweeping out the heat and smoke.
“I want to play cards,” I said, my voice too loud, my whole body vibrating at the edges.
“Of course,” he said indulgently.
Normally, that would make me nuts—a pampering man sounding as if he were doing a favor. But the way he said “of course,” as if the only desire he had in the world was to watch me play blackjack, made me feel tingly and warm.
A woman. With a man.
We emerged from the alcove and no one stared at us, though I was sure my blush was practically neon.
Feeling as though I were filled with ginger ale and fireflies, I turned to the closest table and found a spot at the far end, all too aware of Carter right behind me.
