Telling her about Lindsey made the most sense, but he’d never found the right time or the right words. He’d distanced himself from Penny and the baby growing inside of her. He’d done his best to ignore her increasing size until one day she’d called in tears, her voice thick with terror.
“You were about four months along before,” he said, not sure if he should mention the past.
She put more salad on her plate. “I know. I’ve been thinking about that. My doctor says what happened then was just one of those things. There was probably something wrong with the baby, which was why I lost it. She swears I’m perfectly healthy and there’s no reason to think I’ll lose this one.”
“Are you past the date…?”
“In two weeks.”
He didn’t have to ask if she was worried. He could see it in her eyes.
Before, she’d been devastated. He remembered holding her as she sobbed for the tiny life lost. He’d felt both stricken and relieved. He wasn’t going to have to choose who he would love more—Lindsey or the new baby. But Penny’s pain had been too big for her to contain and she’d been inconsolable.
Time had healed, as it always did. Eight months later she’d said they should try again and he’d told her he didn’t want children. It had been easier than telling her the truth. That he couldn’t deal with one more loss—not with Lindsey battling leukemia.
“We used to do this all the time,” Penny said. “Stay up late and talk while the rest of the world went to bed.”
“Restaurant hours,” he said. “The world is a different place at night.”
“I always used to feel sorry for those poor people who had to get up early. I liked staying awake until two or three in the morning. Of course, back then I didn’t have to be here to check on deliveries and plan my specials for the day.”
He glanced at the still-full serving dishes. “Want to take that home with you?”
“Of course. I’ll have it for breakfast.”
“Fish? That’s disgusting.”
“My fish, big guy. And it’s delicious.”
“Have it.”
He stood and walked into the kitchen to collect togo containers. After she’d scooped everything off the various plates and bowls, they carried the dirty dishes back into the kitchen, then grabbed their coats.
“You need anything?” he asked as he locked the back door and escorted her to her car.
She looked at him. “Oh, great. I told you I was pregnant and you’re going to get all mental, aren’t you?”
“If mental means worrying about you, then yes.”
She paused by her Volvo and leaned against the driver’s door. “Not your responsibility.”
“You’re on my staff.”
“You wouldn’t be this concerned if your hostess turned up pregnant.”
“I didn’t used to be married to my hostess.”
“As she’s barely eighteen, that would have caused talk.”
He knew what Penny meant. She was all grown up and didn’t need anyone to take care of her. Funny how her independence was so appealing. Before she’d needed so much—and now she didn’t.
The lights from the parking lot brought out the red in her hair. Her blue eyes looked black and mysterious. Her skin seemed lit from within.
“Pregnancy agrees with you,” he murmured.
“Don’t you dare sweet-talk me. I’m immune.”
The challenge made him smile. “Really?”
“Oh, yeah.”
After that, he didn’t have much choice. He bent down and brushed his mouth against hers.
He half expected her to pull back. Instead she slipped her hands inside his open coat and rested them on his waist. He leaned closer and put the bag of leftovers on the roof of her car, then cupped her face in his hands.
She tilted her head in a silent invitation he had no desire to ignore. Even as he lightly touched his tongue to her bottom lip, she parted for him. He slipped into her mouth and found himself in a sensual paradise he remembered all too well.
She was soft and hot and sweet. Need heated his blood before racing south and making him hard. The wanting increased as he swept his tongue against hers and she shuddered in response.
The fingers at his waist tightened. He heard her moan low in her throat, then the light pressure of her belly and her br**sts as she leaned into him. He dropped his hands to her shoulders and squeezed.
The kiss went on until he felt her melting in his embrace. He’d made love with her enough times to know what the quickened breathing meant and to read the invitation in the way she struggled to get even closer. He was hard and getting harder, which didn’t seem possible. She was willing, and neither of them were involved.
“Cal,” she breathed, pulling back slightly from the kiss.
He slid his hands from her shoulders to her chest, then to her heavy, full br**sts.
Her ni**les were already hard. He brushed them with his fingers and she groaned. Her eyes slowly closed, her body swayed.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered. “Oh, yeah. Just like that.”
He rubbed his thumbs and forefingers against her ni**les, teasing them until her breath caught. Her eyes opened.
“You were always really good at that,” she whispered.
“I spent most of my teenaged years practicing through visualization.”
She smiled and covered his hands with hers. “There are about fifty reasons why this is a bad idea.”