Wanted by Her Lost Love (Pregnancy & Passion #2)(11)

She thrust a hand into her hair and leaned back against the recliner. He immediately leaned forward, slipping from his chair and going to his knees in front of her. He touched her arm, tentatively, as if afraid she’d recoil.

“Come with me, Kelly. You know this has to be worked out between us. You have to think about the baby.”

She held up a hand, furious that he’d try to manipulate her with guilt. But he caught her hand and lowered it, and then ruthlessly pressed his advantage.

“You can’t work. The doctor said you have to rest or you risk the health of your child as well as your own. If you can’t accept my help for yourself, at least do it for your baby. Or is your pride more important than his or her welfare?”

“And what are we supposed to do when we get to New York, Ryan?”

“You’re going to rest and we’re going to figure out our future.”

Her stomach lurched. It sounded so ominous. Their future.

She was a fool to agree. She’d be a fool not to agree.

She was willing to swallow her pride and take the check. Shouldn’t she be willing to accept his help for her baby’s sake? For their baby’s sake?

“Kelly?”

“I’ll go,” she said in a low voice.

Triumph flashed in his eyes. “Then let’s get you packed and get the hell out of here.”

Four

When Kelly woke the next morning, she struggled to make sense of her surroundings. Then she remembered. She was in New York—with Ryan.

In a matter of hours, Ryan had had her packed and hustled to the airport. They’d landed at LaGuardia close to midnight and he’d ushered her into a waiting car.

By the time they’d arrived at his apartment, she was dead on her feet. Once inside, she took her one bag and headed toward the guest room. The aching familiarity of the apartment—an apartment that used to be hers—threatened to unhinge her. It even smelled the same—a mixture of leather and raw masculinity. She’d never tried to change that. It had reminded her too much of Ryan, and she hadn’t wanted to remove it.

Down the hall was the bedroom where she and Ryan had made love countless times. It was where their child was conceived and where her life had been irrevocably altered.

Once again, she’d been reminded of how much of an idiot she was to come back here.

But this morning she felt resigned to her fate. After a quick shower, she dressed and padded into the living room where Ryan was already sitting typing on a laptop. He looked up when he heard her come in.

“Breakfast is ready. I was waiting on you to eat.”

Wordlessly, she followed him into the kitchen where she saw a table set for two. Taking a platter off the warmer, he carried it over to the table and began spooning healthy portions of eggs, toast and ham onto their plates.

As she sat down, she was forced to admit that she felt better than she had in weeks. She had certainly gotten more rest in the past twenty-four hours than she had in a long time.

“How are you feeling this morning?” he asked as he took a seat across from her.

“Fine,” she mumbled around a mouthful of egg. Her appetite was coming back and she concentrated on the delicious food in front of her.

This whole thing was weird. The ultrapoliteness. The cozy breakfast for two. It was so awkward that she wanted to go back to the bedroom and crawl back into bed.

After a long silence, Ryan spoke up. “I’ve made arrangements to work out of the apartment for the time being.”

She stopped chewing then swallowed the food in her mouth. “Why?” she asked flatly.

“I would think the answer is obvious.”

“This isn’t going to work, Ryan. I can’t stay here with you hanging over my shoulder all the time. Go to work. Do whatever it is you normally do, and just leave me alone.”

His lips thinned and then he got up and walked away without another word.

She stared down at her plate, furious that he acted like the victim. As if she was some horrible, ungrateful bitch.

Fury and aching sadness knotted her throat. How could she ever get past what he’d done to her? Maybe he was just as determined not to forgive her for her supposed transgressions, but Kelly was the innocent one in this whole sordid mess. Ryan had turned his back on her. He didn’t seem to want to acknowledge that little fact.

She fiddled with her remaining food, pushing it around her plate until restlessness forced her to her feet.

Wandering aimlessly back into the living room, she stopped in front of the large window offering a view of the Manhattan skyline.

“You shouldn’t be on your feet,” Ryan said from behind her.

She sighed and turned around, shocked to see him in just a towel. She swiveled back to the window, but the image burned in her eyes. His broad chest rippled with well-defined muscles and his lean abdomen was sculpted like a fine work of art. She used to spend hours exploring the dips and curves of his body.

“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you,” he said in a low voice. “I guess I didn’t give it a thought considering our past relationship.”

She had the ridiculous urge to laugh. Embarrass her? The only embarrassing thing was how her mind was currently wandering way below the makeshift waistline of his towel.

And of course, in his arrogance, he would assume—considering the “nature of their relationship”—that he could cavort about in the nude.