tossed her a welcoming smile as Susan sailed regally past her and into the night, shaking back her hair. Gold with streaks of light chocolate—that was how Michael had always described her hair. Gold and chocolate. Of course, he’d also said it almost exactly matched the oak of her desk, but that was when he’d had her lying on top of it.
Her desk would have been a little cumbersome to bring, so she’d settled for his favorite whiskey—a rich golden Scotch—and a box of his favorite chocolates—all lights. While he’d understand the significance of her offering, he might think her a little odd for bringing him presents on her birthday, but she wasn’t leaving anything to chance. She wanted his senses overflowing. She wanted distraction.
She wanted to ask a favor and she was scared to death he’d think she was crazy. Of course, his immediate answer would probably be no. She’d wait until he was stone-cold sober before she’d accept that decision.
MICHAEL WAS ELATED and instantly hard when he opened the door of his condo to see Susan standing there, coat gaping, his own personal paramour. But he wasn’t really surprised. He’d been thinking of her all day. Needing her. And she was here.
That was just the way it was with them.
“Lady, you read my mind.” He gathered her close, his hands sliding inside the open overcoat, as he kicked the door closed.
“Hello, Michael,” she laughed when he let her up for air.
He kissed her again, tasting her, turned on as much by the familiarity of her as the luscious breasts he felt against him. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.” He nuzzled her neck, her collarbone.
“Thank you.” Her voice wasn’t quite steady. She was on fire, too. Even after all these years, it was still instantaneous combustion. For both of them.
“Mind if I put these things down?”
Michael took her bag and the gifts she held without removing his lips from her body. He set her things on the high-backed wicker chair in the foyer and then, turning, forced her backward toward the stairs that led to his bedroom.
He was damn glad she was here.
“WHERE WERE YOU TODAY?” Susan’s words were soft, sleepy, her finger toying with his nipple as he lay facing her, still inside her.
“Atlanta.”
Her eyes were closed, but her face was taut, her body tense as she continued to play with him. “On business?”
“Later.” At the moment, Michael couldn’t even remember why he’d thought the day’s meeting so important.
“Mmm-hmm.” Susan’s tongue darted out to his lips and then was gone. “Later.”
“MICHAEL?”
“Mmm-hmm?” He’d just been thinking he should rouse himself enough to tell her his good news. As soon as he was strong enough for another celebration.
“We can always talk to each other about everything, can’t we?”
Although he didn’t shift from his position propped on the pillows with Susan cradled against his chest, Michael was instantly alert. Lethargy evaporated to be replaced with caution. And maybe something else. Maybe fear.
“I’ve always thought so.”
“Yeah, me, too.”
Her breathing became more regular as she lay there silently, more relaxed, as though she were going to sleep. Was that it, then? Just a reaffirmation of what they were to each other?
Granted, their relationship was far from traditional, an open-ended friendship with no strings attached. But it worked for him. And for her, too, he thought. Had she just needed reassurance? He was loath to move, to disturb her. Loath to find out there was more.
“So, if...something...changed for me, I could tell you?”
What had changed? “Of course you could.”
Had she found someone else? Someone in Cincinnati? God forbid, someone she wanted to marry?
Michael’s throat was dry, but he tried to be calm, reasonable. She wouldn’t have shown up here tonight, wouldn’t be lying naked in his arms, satiated with a couple of hours of healthy love if there was someone else, right?
Unless...
He thought back to the day—and night—of their divorce. Sex was exactly how she’d said goodbye.
He couldn’t stand the idea of her with someone else.
“So has something changed?” He finally had to ask. Had to know.
“Maybe.”
Maybe? Could you maybe be in love with someone else?
He continued to hold her, to run one hand lightly up and down her naked back.
“You’re not sure?”
The entire conversation was ludicrous. Susan in love with someone else? Making love with someone else? He might have worried about something like that in the beginning, seven years ago, right after their divorce. But now?
“I’m sure.”
His hand stilled. “You are.”
Her hair was rough against his chest as, slowly, she nodded.
Then why in hell are you lying here, naked, in my bed, in my arms? He wanted to shout at her. Almost did.
Until it occurred to him that Susan had every right to fall in love with someone else. And that he had no rights at all. Not anymore.
Once, he had.
But he’d given them up.
CHAPTER THREE
“I’M GOING to have a baby, Michael.”
Michael flew out of bed, hardly aware of her head flopping onto the pillows behind him as he stood on the thick carpet covering his bedroom floor.
And then, feeling incredibly foolish, he realized he must have misunderstood, heard her wrong. He’d thought, for a second there, that she’d told him she was pregnant.
“What did you say?” He stalled, looking for a way to explain his bizarre behavior without actually telling her what he thought she’d said.
She lay there, gazing up at him, the oddest expression on her face. Half fearful, half belligerent. Her chocolately golden hair was scattered about her face and tangled on the pillows beneath her, her lips bare and swollen, her eyes wide. She’d pulled the covers up to her chin. She looked about sixteen.
“I’m going to have a baby.”
The breath knocked out of him, Michael felt as though he’d been sucker punched. If he hadn’t been butt naked he’d have sunk to the floor.
“You...are.”
