Five
After taking a shower in Carrick’s enormous en-suite bathroom, Sadie pulled on her clothes and walked back into his bedroom. It was dominated by an enormous king-size bed and an oversize oil painting above the headboard. Ignoring Carrick, who sat on the edge of the bed, dressed and pulling on a pair of socks, she crawled across the mattress to kneel on the pillows, searching for a signature on the painting. It was an impressionist landscape in greens and blues, a French river at dawn.
Was it a Monet, a Manet? Judging by the breathtaking art elsewhere in the house, she wouldn’t be surprised.
“You’re wasting your time. There is no signature,” Carrick told her, amusement in his voice.
Sadie frowned at the painting. That wasn’t possible; he must have missed it. This painting was too good not to be documented. “Who is it by?”
Carrick shrugged. “We have no idea. We have no record of how it came into the family, who the artist is, absolutely nothing.”
That simply wasn’t possible. A painting of this quality had to have left its mark; there had to be a record of it somewhere. Sadie touched the side of the frame with reverent fingers as if it could speak to her.
“Have you researched it?”
“To death,” Carrick replied, standing up to tuck his button-down shirt into his pants. “I’ve researched it, Finn has researched it, my folks did the same. There’s nothing to be found.”
Sadie refused to accept that. “I could try.”
Carrick grinned. “Go for it, but I’m not paying you another exorbitant fee for you to trace down leads I know aren’t there.”
“I’ll do it pro bono.” Sadie sat back on her heels and stared at the landscape, falling into the picture. There was something incredibly familiar about the painting, as if she recognized the artist or the subject or the brushstrokes. She’d spent time with this artist or scene before...she just needed to recall who and when and where.
Carrick’s arm around her waist wrenched her back to the present. He pulled her up against his chest, but when her feet touched the floor, he didn’t release her.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, his breath warm against the shell of her ear.
Since she’d started the morning with multiple orgasms, she felt absolutely fantastic. “Awesome. All loosey-goosey.”
Sadie felt the rumble of his laughter. “Good to know, but I was actually referring to this.” He tapped her flat stomach with his index finger.
Oh. Oh, right. She was pregnant with his child. Between the fabulous sex and the jaw-dropping art, she’d forgotten she was going to be a mommy. Her breath hitched and her heart threatened to jump out of her chest. “Fine.”
“No nausea, tiredness, food cravings?”
Sadie stepped back and Carrick’s arms fell to his sides. “How do you know about pregnancy symptoms?”
Carrick’s shoulder lifted and fell. “Ronan has two boys, and he gave us a blow by blow of Thandi’s pregnancies.”
She hadn’t known Ronan was married and told Carrick so.
Grief flashed in Carrick’s eyes. “She died shortly after the birth of Aron, their second son. She started hemorrhaging and they couldn’t stop it in time.”
Sadie winced. “That’s horrible. I’m so sorry.”
“It was a rough time,” Carrick admitted. “We all adored Thandi, and Ronan still grieves for his wife.”
“I think he probably always will,” Sadie softly replied.
Carrick ran his hand through his damp hair. “So back to you. How are you feeling?” His lips quirked upward. “With reference to your pregnancy, not the sex.”
Sadie returned his smile. “I really am fine. I haven’t had any nausea and I’m as energetic as ever. I’m not very far along so everything is mostly as it was.”
“I’d believe that if you hadn’t fallen asleep in the chair last night without waking up when I moved you to the sofa,” Carrick pointed out.
Sadie crossed her arms and rocked on her heels. “I haven’t slept much this past week. I’ve been making plans. And rehearsing the best way to tell you.”
Carrick frowned at her. “I’m that unapproachable?”