nodded, her stomach fluttering. “Yes, please. I’d like that.”
The doctor came immediately, and Alison followed Maximo and the beautiful young physician into his office. When he’d mentioned having a personal physician she’d imagined an elderly man, not a blonde in her early thirties who was tall and willowy enough to be a model.
It shouldn’t really surprise her. Maximo was a handsome man. A very handsome man, she amended herself. He was rich. And powerful. Plus, of course, there was that very basic feminine nurturing instinct that likely made women want to heal all of his wounds. He probably attracted women in droves. It was likely he welcomed the female attention. He was in his prime; a powerful, sexually attractive man who probably took pleasure when it was offered.
She felt hot all over again and she tried hard to quell that physical response that had become so darn instant and predictable. Maximo was entitled to do as he liked, with whom he liked, which included the sexy doctor, and that was fine by her. Because she didn’t want to engage in those kinds of relationships. She had no desire to sacrifice her independence and self-sufficiency for a few hours of hedonistic enjoyment in a man’s bed. None at all.
Besides, she seriously doubted she would actually find it enjoyable. It was fine with her if other women wanted to have affairs just for the sake of them, but she never had, and her aversion to relationships had prevented her from actually finding out about physical relationships in a practical, hands-on kind of way. But she was twenty-eight and she wasn’t born yesterday. She had a full intellectual knowledge of sex, even if she didn’t have actual firsthand experience, and she couldn’t imagine such an intimate activity holding any appeal to her. She avoided intimate relationships altogether. She was hardly going to pursue something so … so … profound with a man when maintaining a healthy distance between herself and others was an important matter of self-preservation, as far as she was concerned.
So why did it make her stomach clench when the beautiful doctor slid her feminine hands over Maximo’s arm? The sexy blonde drew his shirtsleeve up and wiped at the inside of his elbow with a small cleansing pad, her movements seeming slower, more sensual than was strictly necessary.
“We just need a little blood,” she said, her attention on Maximo, her eyes never once straying to Alison.
Alison had to turn her face away when the doctor drew a phial of dark blood from Maximo’s arm. She was never very good with things like that and being pregnant made her feel all the more fragile about it. And the last thing she wanted to do was something as ridiculously weak as passing out in front of him. As much as she imagined he was used to women falling at his feet, she couldn’t afford to show that kind of vulnerability.
“All done.” The doctor all but purred as she tugged Maximo’s shirtsleeve back into place, covering up his sexy, well-muscled arm. “It will take five days for us to run the complete carrier screening. As soon as I know, I’ll be in touch. If you need anything before then let me know. I’m always available.” The good doctor offered Maximo a sympathetic arm squeeze and Alison couldn’t help but think that she knew exactly what the other woman would be available for if Maximo needed her.
After the doctor left she and Maximo simply sat, silence stretching between them. Anxiety gnawed at Alison’s stomach. A few more days and she would know if there was a chance their child might be affected.
Their child. It seemed so surreal that this stranger was the father of the baby nestled in her womb. At least if the baby had been the product of a one-night stand they would have known each other on a basic level. As it was, they didn’t know anything about each other. They didn’t even share the physical attraction that most people expecting a baby together would have shared.
Liar.
Okay, so she was attracted to him. She’d been attracted to men before. Not like this, but she had been, and she hadn’t acted on those feelings. She wouldn’t have acted on them with Maximo, either.
“Is there a hotel that you can recommend?” she asked, desperate to break the tension that was thickening the air in the room.
The test was weighing heavily on him, too, she could tell. The corded muscles of his arms obviously tense beneath his well-fitted shirt, his jaw locked tight. He really did care about the baby already. Knowing they shared that made her feel linked to him, even if it was only by one tenuous thread. It was comforting in a way, knowing that someone else cared about the baby. That if something was wrong she wouldn’t be alone in hurting for her child. For now at least, Maximo didn’t feel as much like an adversary.
“Why would you need a hotel?” he asked, flexing the arm that the doctor had taken blood from.
“I don’t want to sleep in a field somewhere. I’m not big on camping.”
“You do have a very smart mouth,” he said, his focus dipping to her lips. She darted her tongue out to moisten them, feeling very self-conscious of the action as she did it. But with him looking at her like that all she could think about was her mouth, and that made it feel dry. And tingly. His dark eyes conveyed an interest that made her stomach tighten. He was attracted to her, too. The realization made her feel light-headed. It had been one thing to experience the errant desire on her own, but to know he might feel even a fraction of it for her …
Just as suddenly as the interest had appeared in his eyes, it was gone, his expression flat and unreadable. She must have manufactured the moment. There was no other explanation. She wasn’t ugly by any stretch; she knew that. Men asked her on dates often enough. She wasn’t a beauty queen, though. Maximo’s first wife had even made Supermodel Doctor look average: her features exquisitely stunning, her sleek dark hair always styled so elegantly, her slim figure the perfect showcase for designer clothing.
She could remember his wife’s face clearly. She’d graced the covers of fashion magazines and had been a minor celebrity prior to her marriage to Maximo. An opera singer who had performed in the most prestigious venues around the world, she’d been talented, beautiful and cultured.
So, it wasn’t that Alison didn’t have her own brand of beauty. She just didn’t have that universal appeal, that unquestionable, unrivaled loveliness that Selena Rossi had possessed. There was no way Maximo could want her. She was average, and he was just as perfect as his wife had been. A demigod of masculine perfection.
And now she was dramatizing.
She licked her lips again and silently cursed herself.
“You will be staying here at the palace,” Maximo said, his tone so confident she knew that it absolutely didn’t occur to him that she might refuse. Or, if it did occur to him he was supremely confident that he could change her mind.
“I don’t need you to put me up. I’m perfectly capable of getting my own accommodations.”
“No doubt,” he said, flashing her a wry smile. “I imagine your extensive education has left you more than capable of booking your own room. But you’re pregnant with my child and I don’t want you staying at some hotel by yourself.”
“Seedy hotels in Turan, are there?”
“Not at all,” he said, dismissing her statement with a wave of his hand. “But that doesn’t mean I will allow you to—”
She cut him off, anger bubbling in her chest and spilling over. “Allow me? You have no authority to allow or disallow me to do anything.”
“You
