He’d finally slept restlessly, risen early, and reshuffled his work diary.
* * *
Alina spotted Ethan immediately: tall, head-turningly handsome, impossible to miss among the people milling outside the luxurious hotel. His sister had been spontaneous and cheerful; her dinner companion tonight exuded an aura of deliberation and sobriety.
Blaming the prickling sensation down her spine on stress, she steeled herself as she unbuckled the seatbelt. Her door opened, giving her a view of a solid torso clad in an elegant designer suit. She was glad she’d impulsively packed her black dinner dress, bought four years ago in rural France. Rarely worn, it was simple in design, chic enough to give her confidence a boost. Loose enough to conceal any hint of her condition.
She swung her leg out and his fingers curled around her elbow, taking her weight as she alighted. Holding on longer than necessary. As it had yesterday, his touch generated tingles, radiating across her skin.
‘Thank you for being so prompt.’
His deep voice sounded less dynamic. The shadows under his eyes were darker. Another too-full day after too little sleep?
Why the let-down feeling at his mundane comment? Quickly followed by a zing of pleasure when he put his arm around her to escort her through the crowd? Heat flared in places that had been winter-cold for years, shocking her into silence.
He released her the moment they entered the elevator for the short journey up to the restaurant, taken in silence. They were greeted by the maître d’, who led them to a window table set apart in a far corner, secluded by greenery. Alina followed, acutely aware of the man behind her and the limited number of diners in the room. She sat, staring in awe at the North Sydney high-rises across the harbour.
‘This is incredible,’ she said, and sighed, turning her head to take in more. Too far. Their eyes met; warmth flooded her cheeks. He must think her so gauche. To her surprise he glanced out, then smiled at her for the first time, transforming his features, making him less forbidding.
‘I guess it is. Over time you get used to the skyline being there.’
‘Not possible,’ she declared vehemently. ‘And it’s going to get better as all the lights come on, isn’t it?’
ETHAN’S FATIGUE LIGHTENED at her enthusiasm for something he took for granted. Her eyes gleamed, darkened to the colour of the flowers of the plant on his PA’s desk.
His jaw firmed as she returned the smile from the young waiter who offered her a menu. The curt nod he gave him on accepting his was unwarranted, and instantly repented.
Her delightfully intense expression as she carefully read each item restored his good humour. She finally looked up and gestured, palm out.
‘How on earth am I supposed to decide? I’m not even sure what some of them are. You choose for me.’
‘The lemon sole is particularly good. Or the chef’s special if you are in the mood for lamb.’ His gaze dropped to her pink, unenhanced lips. Forget food—he wanted to taste her. She’d be sweeter than any dessert coming out of the kitchen tonight.
Her voice cut through his inapt thoughts.
‘I’ll bet they’re all delicious. Nothing too spicy or strong-flavoured.’ Putting her menu on the table, she laid her arms on top, unintentionally drawing his attention as she leant forward. ‘And small portions for me, please.’
The taut fit of the material over her breasts intrigued him. Had being pregnant enlarged them? They’d been hidden under her loose jacket yesterday. Tonight they’d been the first thing he’d visually noticed when she’d stepped from the car—preceded by that perfume so not right for her.
What the hell was wrong with him? The woman opposite him wore a wedding ring and was pregnant. He tamped down his libido, concentrated on selecting their meal.
‘Oh, wine...?’ Alina’s hands fell to her sides as a young woman carrying a bottle placed an ice bucket and stand next to their table.
‘Non-alcoholic,’ Ethan hastily reassured her, before addressing the waitress. ‘Please allow my guest to sample it.’
She savoured the tangy fruit flavour, drank a little more, and smiled. ‘It’s very refreshing. Thank you.’
She gazed around while he ordered their meals. A screen of plants, plus a larger than standard space, separated them from the adjoining tables. Little chance of being seen—none of being overheard. Had he asked for it? Or—oh, this upmarket hotel must be part of his Starburst chain.
The waitress left. Alina raised her glass, let the tangy liquid slide down her throat. Her curiosity overrode tact. ‘Are these plants and extra space always here?’
He shrugged. ‘On request. Some couples find the seclusion romantic. Some men aspire to an elaborate setting with privacy for a proposal.’ He paused, a glint of amusement in his eyes. ‘In case of rejection.’
She understood the need to keep her presence a secret. An icy shiver ran down her spine. What if he rejected her proposal? She had to persuade him it was best for everyone involved.
‘Doesn’t it invite curiosity from people who might recognise you? Who’ll wonder who I am?’
‘Few people dine this early. I believe you’ll feel more comfortable eating here, then we’ll go somewhere quieter to discuss our situation.’
‘You’re right. Thank you.’ Her gaze wandered from the silverware, the fine cut-glass, and the decorative light fittings to the amazing panorama outside the window.
‘Fine dining. Romantic setting with harbour lights. They create a wonderful memory for any couple,’ he commented.
Like a sandy beach with rippling waves at dawn. Her eyes misted. She bit the inside of her lip. Don’t go there. It’s all gone. Gone for ever.
Ethan wasn’t about to let her attention stray. He had too much to learn in too little time. Her history. The reason she’d agreed to be a surrogate. Why she wore that ring. Why a simple piece of jewellery rankled so much.
‘Alina?’
Too sharp.
She started, blinked twice, and refocused. ‘I’m sorry. I was miles away.’
‘I noticed.’ He leant an elbow on the table, rested his chin on his hand, and scrutinised her. He sensed her superficial demeanour was a defensive shield, preventing her from revealing anything personal. It was one he aimed to breach for his, and the child’s, benefit.
‘Relax. Enjoy your meal. You like seafood?’
‘Love it.’
Her words coincided with the appearance of their appetiser: creamy pumpkin soup with croutons. They ate in silence, apart from her praise for the country fresh flavour. He signalled for the empty dishes to be removed, requested their mains be held for five minutes.
Once they were alone, he leant forward. ‘How long had you known Leon and Louise?’
‘Oh. Um...I guess casually for more than three years. If there was a position vacant I worked in a café near their house whenever I was in Barcelona.’
‘A waitress?’ His eyebrow quirked. Whenever she was in Barcelona? She was not a resident?
She bristled at his inference of her pursuing a lowly profession. ‘Be careful, Mr James. You’re demeaning your staff, who are giving us excellent service tonight.’
He acknowledged her rebuke with a nod. She looked gratified and continued. ‘It’s a useful skill for a working traveller. I rarely stay anywhere for long.’
‘Any other useful skills?’ This was getting worse by the minute.