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“I just can’t believe you’d suggest that. And like it’s no big deal. Is that what you think women want? To be handed out a little stipend for good behavior? God, no wonder you’re single.”

The retort cut more deeply than she could have known; certainly more deeply than she intended. “The stipend would be very generous, believe me. I was thinking twenty thousand pounds.”

“A year,” she shook her head, in disbelief that anyone could nonchalantly part with such a sum.

“A month,” he corrected.

Imogen gripped the railing, her mind reeling. “I could never spend that amount. Ever.”

“You wait until you step into a children’s boutique,” he said with an arched brow. “I bet you could spend that in one afternoon…”

She shook her head, her lips pressed together in a firm line of disapproval. “I don’t think so. I find that kind of extravagance off-putting. Children don’t need expensive clothes. They need warmth and comfort; things that I won’t have to worry about getting torn or stained or damaged.”

He looked at her as though she’d lost her mind, but Imogen was warming to the theme now. “It’s not about spoiling the baby with material things. Kids need so very little when they’re babies. A few, well-chosen toys that are age-appropriate. And lots of love and attention.”

“Yet you’re going to go back to work as soon as you’ve had him?” He countered, careful not to push too hard even when his frustration was eating through his chest.

“Not as soon as I’ve had him,” she pointed out. “When I’m ready.”

“So there’ll be a time when you’re at home with the baby?”

“Of course.”

“And what will you do for money then?” He asked silkily.

“Oh.” She blinked, tilting her head to face him, her features awash with uncertainty. An uncertainty that made Theo want to kiss her. The need came to him out of nowhere but it was strong and fierce. He wanted to push any doubts out of her mind; he wanted to make her see sense.

Instead, he smiled reassuringly. “You knew I wanted to help you financially when you came to stay here. So why not let me?”

She shook her head. “Because. It’s different when the baby’s here. But even then, if I’m honest, I don’t like the idea.” She bit down on her lip, her eyes filling with tears. “This is hopeless. I didn’t think it through. We’re too different. I should have stayed in Swan on Green. At least until the baby is born.”

“No.” He groaned, shaking his head emphatically. “You made the right choice. We’re new to all this, that’s all. There’s going to be teething problems while we get to understand one another’s boundaries.”

“I need to work,” she whispered, the words graveled with self-doubt. “I’ve worked for as long as I can remember and I don’t want to sit around your big, empty, very-beautiful penthouse all day. I need to keep busy.”

He nodded, even though it went against every fiber in his body. “It’s your decision,” he soothed. “I would prefer you to stay here, rest, be comfortable and relaxed, knowing that it is no hardship to support you.”

“Thank you.” It was a stiff rejoinder.

“You act as though I’m suggesting you rip out your toenails.”

Her brows lifted with mock agreement. “It feels about the same to me.”

“Then you’d better start that job as soon as you can.”

The air was warm but that wasn’t why Imogen’s body was suddenly flooded with heat. It was the fire of awareness that supercharged her temperature setting; her pulse carried lava through her body, spreading it eagerly.

“I will.” A husky whisper that wasn’t necessary.

He didn’t appear to have heard it. His eyes were dueling with hers, robbing her of strength and conversely giving it to her at the same time. Her breath lodged in her throat as she stared right back at him, powerless to look away, or even to move.

“I wish…” He said quietly, so quietly she had to sway closer to hear properly. “I wish I could remember more from that night.” He lifted a hand then, pressing it beneath her chin, tilting her head higher, closer to his.

What could she say? That she did too? That his total lack of recollection had made her feel that it hadn’t been special for him, when it had completely redefined the parameters of her world?

His thumb stroked her lower lip and she made a small, purring noise in the base of her throat. Her eyes still clung to his, but now there was a silent plea in them. Only what did she want? For him to stop? Or for him to keep going?

“I remember some things.” His hand moved to her hair, tucking an errant clump of blonde behind her ear.


Tags: Clare Connelly Erotic