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“I don’t know. Freedom from worry, I guess. I don’t feel well and every time something happens, I’m afraid I’ll lose the baby. Then there’s the uncertainty about my job and my move to Europe. Nothing is clear-cut like it was a month or two ago. And now I’m expected to have some kind of relationship with people I don’t know and who don’t seem to even like me. It’s so much more complicated than I expected. Normally I can tackle anything, but I’m starting to feel overwhelmed.”
Trace was quiet for a moment, his thumb gently rubbing her skin.
“Focus on the baby and let the rest go,” he said at last.
She looked him. “Even your folks.”
“It’ll all work out in the end. Your sole concern right now should be you and the baby.”
Trace waited while Cath went into her apartment building then directed the driver to take him to his own place. He was seeing his parents that evening, but had the afternoon to himself.
When he climbed out, he glanced around. There were a few buildings between his flat and the Bay but staggered so he still had a good view. The water appeared a steely-gray with whitecaps marching in uniformed regularity. The storm looked as if it was moving in with the gray clouds overhead.
Riding the elevator he wondered what he could do about Cath. He’d never seen her in tears. Hormones he could deal with. He hoped. But he hoped she wasn’t going to be plagued with them all through her pregnancy.
Entering his apartment, he noted the difference between his place and hers. He’d been at her home several times. Her furniture, her entire decorating scheme was as different as night and day from his. Hers was colorful, warm and cozy, feminine and inviting.
His minimalistic design with black and white tones was far from warm and cozy. He’d deliberately cultivated the look when he’d had enough money to move to this place. He wanted nothing to show him home and hearth, and all the things he thought he had with Cynthia but lost when she left.
Had he gone too far? Would their child find any comfort in his place, or feel more at home with Cath’s colorful style?
For the first time he considered how sterile and uninviting it appeared. Black leather sofa, glass and chrome end tables. Even the lamps were of polished metal. The window was framed with black checkerboard curtains, stylish no doubt, but not for a home, a family. For a moment Trace wished for warm colors, comfy furnishings and feeling of home.
Was he growing soft? Wanting what he’d once thought he’d had?
Cath was different. But she wasn’t into marriage and making a family. Her sights were on Europe.
He’d offered to marry her and she’d turned him down. Lucky escape.
Chapter Nine
Sunday afternoon Trace called Cath. His parents were heading for home. He had a lot to think about after their frank expression of concern. His mom didn’t know whether to trust that she’d have a relationship with this child or not. She still missed little Zach, though the boy was a teenager by now.
“Want to eat Italian?” he asked.
“Dinner out? It’s pouring rain.”
“You won’t melt. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
He hung up before she could refuse.
He still had to figure out how to handle the European position that would open up when Thomas left. He didn’t think Cath was going to like his suggestion.
Cath hung up. Trace had surprised her again. It confused her, and had her wishing to know him even better. Dangerous in the circumstances. She should keep a certain distance or would end up giving into his dictates. Why did he want to see her again so soon? They’d shared lunch with his parents yesterday.
No matter, she was glad to go out. She’d been looking at baby furniture online and her head was spinning. A little adult conversation would go a long way.
The strain of meeting his parents was beginning to fade. She was feeling well and optimistic about the baby. Tonight was just for her.
Trace still had to meet her family, but it couldn’t be any worse than what she’d gone through yesterday. Trace would be on the hot seat with that meeting.
When he rang the bell, Cath couldn’t quell the flutter of anticipation. She had missed him. She grabbed her jacket. Her wool slacks were warm. The sweater casual, but suitable for a rainy winter’s night. She both yearned to show she was pregnant, and was glad she didn’t have to go shopping for larger clothes yet.
Her heart skipped a beat when she opened the door. He looked sexy enough for her to forget dinner and invite him in. His hair glistened with raindrops. The jacket he wore was damp on the shoulders, outlining how broad they were. His dark slacks and shirt made him look all the more dangerous.
“Ready?” he asked, letting his gaze drift down over her, sending tingling spurts of pure animal magnetism coursing through her.
“Yes.”
