The car stopped in front of a beautiful brick building on a tree-lined street. The doorman greeted him and smiled warmly at me. I couldn’t help but wonder if Ben brought women here often. Surely Fiona had been here. I shuddered, shaking off the thought.

Riding the elevator to Ben’s floor, I found myself wanting to wedge myself against the far wall. I hadn’t been alone with him since I found out about the baby, and I had no desire to share the same small space, the same air with the man who had broken my heart so completely.

Ben quietly appraised me with his intense hazel eyes that always saw too much.

When we reached the ninth floor, he stepped off the elevator, still carrying my bag, and I dutifully followed.

Unlocking the door, Ben held it open for me to enter ahead of him. His apartment was spacious and open. The kitchen was to my right, and straight ahead were the combined living and dining rooms. It was neat and orderly, though a little stuffy with stale air.

I wasn’t sure where he was coming from, but it appeared he hadn’t been home in a while. He flipped through a large stack of mail that had been handed to him by the doorman and motioned for me to go ahead and take a look around.

The dining room held a round mahogany table and four cream-colored leather-upholstered chairs. I continued to the living room and the large bay window with a view of the city. The room held a chocolate-brown sofa, modern and sleek in its design, and two armchairs. There wasn’t much in the way of decorations, just a few black and white architectural photographs hung on the wall and a brick fireplace filled with tall white candles. It was simple but nice. Classic and elegant without being pretentious. It suited him.

Ben stowed our bags near the entryway and asked if I wanted something to drink. He pulled a couple of bottles of mineral water from the fridge, and I gave him a nod.

Something to distract me would be good. I fiddled with the cool bottle once he handed it to me, taking small sips.

Ben sat in one of the armchairs across from the sofa. “Sit down, Emmy.”

My body, accustomed to pleasing him, immediately lowered to the couch. I couldn’t meet his eyes so I stared down at my hands instead. It was too painful to look at him. Too many memories. As quickly as we’d started our relationship, it had been snatched away. Just sitting across from him was throwing me for a loop.

“I’ve asked Fiona to have the paternity testing done,” he said, cutting straight to the chase.

The air in my lungs contracted painfully, pinching in my chest.

“She said the in-utero testing has some risks associated with it. She also gave me a speech about how she’s wanted this baby . . . dreamed about this for two years and wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize it. She’s agreed to do the test just as soon as the doctors say it’s safe, which will be after the birth.”

“Oh.” I should have felt something here—worried? Relieved? But, strangely, I was devoid of all emotion. Nearly eight months more of not knowing. “Are you still working with her?”

“I am,” he replied, casually.

“I see.” I didn’t know why he wouldn’t just quit. She was clearly toxic to him . . . to us. . . .

“I have a contract with her. It doesn’t expire until next spring,” he added.

And just as he wouldn’t press charges for her taking advantage of him, I was willing to bet money he wouldn’t take her to court to end their contract early, either.

Ben leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and pinning me with a heated stare. “Emmy . . . I miss you.” His voice broke into that deep, husky tone.

I felt his anguish. It was the same anguish that had haunted me for the last two months. I missed him, too. There was no denying that. But I worried we were all wrong for each other. Too much drama. Not enough normalcy.

“Ben, you really think a relationship between us would have ever worked out? We’re from two different worlds.”

“Of course I do. I know it would have.”

“And you still think that after living through the catastrophic levels of drama Fiona stirred up for us?” I hung my head; I couldn’t stomach seeing the hope in his brilliant eyes. “I can’t do this again.” I couldn’t put my heart through the wrenching feelings that had owned me for the past few weeks. If and when I was ready to date, I promised myself I’d choose someone safe. A nice, normal guy with a normal job. Not an insanely sexy and intense man who turned my insides into a pile of goo. I’d been defenseless against Ben. That couldn’t happen again. With time to reflect, I knew that the way I’d become totally fixated on everything he said and did wasn’t healthy. Every tiny emotion he made me feel—and let’s not forget my body’s response to him. I’d never had such an intense relationship. When I was ready, I knew I needed something like my parents had. Slow and steady. Something stable and reliable.

“You don’t have to see her. You don’t have to talk to her. I’ll be represented by her agency for the next several months, but that’s it. I’ve cut out the personal shit. No more doctor appointments, no more hanging out. . . . You were right. She wanted more with me. Probably always has. It was time to end it.”

“Ben, she jumped you in your sleep. You could just quit working for her.”

He released a deep sigh and scrubbed one hand over the back of his neck. “It’s not that simple. Just trust me, okay?”

I smiled smugly. “I tried that. It didn’t work out so well for me.”

He frowned. “Fuck, Emmy. I’m sorry. I was trying to do the right thing, do the committed relationship thing with you . . . be a friend to Fiona. Fuck.” He twisted his hands in his hair.

Realization struck me like a smack to the head. Ben hadn’t truly done anything wrong. Fiona had asked him to keep her fertility issues a secret. And he’d honored that. He hadn’t cheated on me—well not purposely, anyway. She’d taken advantage of him. Maybe I was being too hard on him. God, this was confusing. My head was a mess.

When I looked up and met his eyes I saw that he was telling the truth. He wanted to make this work. He wanted me.

Each time I saw him, it was like the first time. His strong jawline, defined chest, broad shoulders, and full mouth were such a sensual combination; it destroyed my presence of mind to stay away. Even if it ended up destroying me, I couldn’t stay away from him. Wouldn’t. “What will you do if it’s yours?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

“Would you . . . want to be with her? Raise the baby?” I held my breath.

“No. I’m with you. I want you. Even though she and I were romantically involved in the past, I never considered actually being with her. It wasn’t like that between us.”

“Okay. I guess we’ll . . . figure it out together. . . .”

“Yes. Together.” His hand reached out to take mine. It seemed harmless enough. But when the warm weight of his palm slid against my skin, one touch was all it took. I realized in an instant that even without knowing if the baby was his, I was willing to accept him and all his baggage.

Memories that refused to fade rushed in, overwhelming my sense of clarity. His touch pushed away the hurt and betrayal and flooded me with warmth and awareness. We’d always had this raw, chemical reaction. Time hadn’t changed that. I didn’t know why I thought it’d be safe to come here with him. No way was I immune to this man. And his home was very much him. His light male scent clung to the space, and the interior exuded his sexy, confident charm.

Ben laced his fingers between mine, the move possessive and sure. My whole body clenched, tightened—my breathing coming in shallow pants. Ben read my reaction all in a single heartbeat, and I could see how affected he was by me, too. My lips trembled. I knew I should say something to his revelation. That was why we were here—to talk—but somehow all I could think about was that his bedroom door was less than twenty feet away, and how the incredible pressure of his thick cock pushing into me always stole my breath.

“What do you want?” he asked, his voice a low whisper.

“I . . . I don’t know,” I murmured. I wanted to go back in time to tell Fiona to shove the promotion up her ass, and I’d stay with Ben in Paris. Unfortunately, life didn’t work that way.

Ben moved to sit beside me on the couch. One hand gripped my waist while his other combed through my hair. It had been so long since he’d touched me and my body was on fire with want. Want for this beautiful, sexy man who destroyed me from the inside out.

“Emmy . . .” My name was a broken murmur; his voice, raw and husky. “You can’t look at me like that with those pretty gray eyes.” His thumb caressed my cheek. “It brings back too many memories.” He leaned in closer, his lips brushing the outer shell of my ear. “It makes me want to take you to bed and fuck you until you scream my name.”

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. My voice had failed me. Cognitive thought had failed, too. Acting on instinct, I placed my palm against his cheek, skimming my fingers lightly across his stubble-roughened skin.

His breathing hitched.

I wasn’t saying no. I wasn’t saying yes.

Ben’s eyes roamed to my mouth.

He wanted to kiss me.

I wanted to forget all the fucked up things that had happened and capture what we’d lost. I bit my bottom lip, letting my teeth pull against the tender flesh. Ben growled and his mouth came down on mine. His kiss was frenzied, his tongue stroking mine in a desperate way.

His mouth left mine only to travel down my throat, his tongue leaving damp kisses along my sensitive skin. His hand traveled north from my waist, moving under my shirt to press against my side. His thumb skittered along the underside of my bra but he didn’t go any farther. My heart thundered in my chest, waiting for him to make contact with my achy breasts.