One Night, So Pregnant!
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Tess blinked as another residual hum of heat flashed through her memory.
Unfortunately, forgetting Graystone and their brief, but not-brief-enough encounter wasn’t going to be that straightforward.
Sweat dampened the collar of her blouse at the thought of seeing Nathaniel Graystone again after the way she’d run out on him.
Don’t think about that either.
She tapped harder on the tiles and ignored the pointed glance from the PA. What were the chances he’d even remember her? He’d no doubt been through a long list of easy conquests since they’d hooked up at the Galloway launch. The man had been a sexual dynamo that night.
Anyone with that much energy and enthusiasm—colour scorched her neck—not to mention that much in-depth knowledge of a clitoris, was no amateur.
The tapping cut off as an odd sense of calm and purpose settled over her.
She couldn’t let that matter. And she could have all the panic attacks she wanted about seeing him again, but one thing she did know, because she’d learned it in her father’s study the day he’d cut her out of his life.
You couldn’t run from your mistakes, because they always caught up with you in the end. And whatever Graystone said, she’d deal with it. This wasn’t about her. Or not just her. Not any more.
The intercom on the PA’s desk buzzed, making the football of cement in Tess’s stomach feel as if it were being sucked into a black supernova of guilt.
Switching off the light flashing on the high-tech communication system, the perfectly groomed older woman sent her a passive smile. ‘I can ask Mr Graystone if he has time to see you now, Ms Tremaine,’ she said, her voice carefully neutral. ‘If you’d like to give me a few more details about the purpose of your visit.’
‘Right.’ Tess paused, her gaze flicking to the frosted glass as she tried to think of what to say. Forcing a smile, she made herself look the woman in the eye. ‘Could you tell him I’m one of the people who helped host the Galloway launch he attended on July twentieth?’ Hopefully that would be enough of a hint to jog his memory. ‘And I need to see him on a personal matter.’
Giving a curt nod, the PA relayed the information into the intercom.
The never-ending pause that followed had tiny beads of sweat popping out on Tess’s upper lip. What if he refused to see her altogether? What would she do then?
But just as she started to feel a little giddy, panic colliding with the horrid feeling of vulnerability, a deep, laconic and painfully familiar American accent crackled round the room.
‘Send her in, Jenny. And hold my calls.’
‘Hi, Tess, this is a surprise.’
The slow smile that spread across Nathaniel Graystone’s features as he walked across the royal-blue carpeting towards her had Tess’s heart beating into her throat—and several more intimate areas of her anatomy.
‘A great surprise,’ he added, gesturing towards one of the large leather armchairs arranged around a coffee table.
Tess perched on the soft leather, and tried to even her laboured breathing. She hadn’t quite prepared herself for seeing him in the flesh again. Instead of the debonair tuxedo of their closet encounter, a pale blue shirt stretched over broad shoulders. Steel-grey trousers fell in pleats around a lean waist and then hung in razor-sharp creases down long legs. His cropped black hair, which she knew was deceptively soft beneath her clutching fingers, contrasted sharply with those striking sapphire-blue eyes—which twinkled with mischief, as if the two of them shared a naughty secret.
Probably because they did.
‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’ he asked, the frank assessing look he sent her reminding her of the first time his eyes had locked on hers across the crowded bar in the Skyline.
She’d been unable to tear her gaze away then. She was finding it equally tough now. ‘I needed to see you.’
He didn’t look surprised by her answer, the easy smile only becoming more assured.
The fine hairs on her nape tingled. Of course he wasn’t surprised. No doubt he was used to women chasing him, and flinging themselves at his feet. But the indignation quickly passed, to be followed by humiliation.
Why wouldn’t he think that?
His arrogance on their only night together had been one of the things she had found so irresistible about him, the moment of insight deeply unsettling. She, who had strived for ten years to be the driver of her own destiny, had succumbed far too easily to his dominant, take-charge masculinity, some sexy small talk and a few come-to-bed looks.
He’d made her feel desirable, in a way Dan never had. Dan had never shown anything like the same urgency or dedication when it came to getting into her knickers. No wonder she’d been so susceptible to Graystone that night. It had been a sop to her pathetically fragile ego.
The sensual smile curved into a rakish grin making his harsh features look almost boyish. She wasn’t fooled. Her heartbeat careered up another notch.
He propped his tall frame against his desk and folded his arms over his chest, making her uncomfortably aware of pale blue cotton stretching at the seams around his impressive biceps. Then his gaze took a leisurely trip down to her kitten-heeled pumps and back again.
‘Let me guess,’ he said, his deep voice rumbling up her spine as the corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement. ‘You came to get your panties back.’
Tess cleared her throat as her nipples squeezed into hard aching peaks, and hot blood coursed up her neck.
‘Not exactly,’ she said, her voice coming out on a distressingly breathy whisper.
‘Are you sure?’ he teased, sounding very sure.
She lurched out of the chair. ‘Yes… I…’ Panic skittered up her spine and the fog of arousal cleared as she recalled how her whole life had gone into freefall at precisely eight twenty-two a.m. that morning. ‘I didn’t come here for another quickie.’
The leisurely glance that swept down to her bullet-tipped breasts called her a liar. ‘Then how about we try slow and easy?’
Indignation flared, eating away at the supernova of guilt.
‘My apartment’s a few blocks away,’ he continued, without waiting for a reply. ‘While the janitor’s closet was memorable…’ his eyes met hers, the dark arousal in the translucent blue reminding her of the sexually charged moment when he’d grasped her hand and dragged her inside the closet ‘… a bed would work better.’