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Vulnerable, alone in her own bathroom.
Where she undressed and bathed every single day of her life.
What was the matter with her? Had she lost her mind? How could she have thought that she could undress herself, give her body to a man’s intimacies, and feel nothing?
How could this ever be a “project”? A business arrangement? She’d only ever made love to two men in her life. And both of them after she’d married them.
She’d held the act in such high esteem. And now she thought she could cheapen it all in the name of achieving a hard sought, well-planned and much deserved goal?
Was it immoral, what she’d put in motion? Had she lost sight of reality? Let her issues push her to the point of irrational behavior?
Sinking into the hot soapy water, she took a deep breath. Calmed herself. She should be thinking about where she was going to go.
But she couldn’t find enough interest in the topic to focus. To care. As long as she was gone before Blake got there. And stayed gone all night, in case he hung around. She could sleep in her car for all that mattered.
Or maybe she should load up her pack and take the bike for an all-night ride. She could fit in a fleece blanket and sleep out under the stars.
But she didn’t really want to ride in the dark.
The moon was out already.
Annie reached for the soap. Drew it slowly up one arm, across her chest and down the other arm. She lathered. And rinsed. And tended to the rest of her body in the same manner.
Would he find her changed? Be disappointed? She’d aged six years since he’d last seen her naked.
Not that he had to see her. She could just get under the covers before he came in. Turn off the lights.
But then he’d join her there, under her blankets.
And she might not ever be able to let him out. Or to crawl under them alone again.
Water splashed as she rose abruptly, reaching for her towel. This wasn’t going to work. She couldn’t do it.
Rubbing briskly, she was dry and in her nightgown before she had another coherent thought.
She wanted this baby. More than anything. Was ready for it. If she waited too long, she might not be able to conceive. Blake was everything she’d hoped to find in a sperm donor for her child. He was willing. And she was ready.
How could she pass up this opportunity? It was ideal. Safe. It was a chance to touch Blake again, as she’d dreamed of doing every night for years after he’d left. To know again the comfort of being close to him. Breathing with him.
She’d be a fool not to be ready.
She’d never be ready. Not to feel Blake’s body slide down on top of hers again, to accommodate his hips and legs between hers, feel him settle there as though he’d been made to fit only her. To look into those serious eyes and see herself reflected, along with the love she’d always found there.
The love he’d never once expressed in words.
Annie needed words. She needed reassurance. She needed demonstration and spontaneity. She needed openness.
She needed a glass of wine.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE LINCOLN DROVE to her house as though someone else was at the wheel, responsible for getting it to its destination. Blake had only been there twice before, but he made every turn without hesitation.
It was as if he didn’t think at all. Couldn’t allow himself to make too much of this. He was doing a favor for a friend. Performing a service.Nothing more.
There couldn’t be anything more. Ever.
