When I slipped on the dress I found it was a perfect fit. It hugged my every curve and landed just above my knees. I straightened the bodice that gently squeezed my breasts and inspected myself in the mirror one last time.

“You look beautiful, baby.” Ben’s hands slid across my hips and settled against my waist.

I loved getting dressed up for him. It had a way of making me feel pretty and put together. I knew it was foolish but just the fact that this beautiful man found me worthy of being on his arm made me feel confident. Stepping into the silver-jeweled sandals, I felt like Cinderella, and the glass slipper even fit.

Ben

Strolling into the restaurant with Emmy on my arm made me feel both comfortable and uneasy. Comfortable because she had a way about her that made me feel relaxed and calm. Uneasy because we were preparing to be around Fiona. Who could possibly be carrying my baby, and who was known to treat Emmy like shit. I was leading her into shark-infested waters. All my senses were up.

We were the first two to be seated at the table for four on the expansive terrace that overlooked the turquoise-blue water. I helped Emmy into her chair and couldn’t help but notice she was fidgeting. Toying with the little strap on her purse and spinning the silver bracelet on her wrist.

“Hey, we’ve got this. I’ll take care of you. Always. You trust me, right?”

Pretty gray eyes locked on mine and she gave me a careful nod.

The server appeared, a slight young girl who seemed captivated by me. Great. Just what I needed. I didn’t want Emmy feeling insecure. I reached across the table and took her hand. I cleared my throat and the waitress’s gaze snapped up. “Something to drink?”

“Yes, just water for me please, but what beers do you have on tap?” I nodded to Emmy.

Emmy’s lips curved in a smile as she listened to the choices, and then placed her order. I knew my girl.

Once the server was gone, Emmy shot me a curious glance. “Water because of your shoots coming up?”

I nodded. It actually wasn’t, but letting her think so was easier. I wanted all my wits about me to deflect Fiona’s cruelty from Emmy tonight. I didn’t want alcohol slowing my reaction time or numbing me to the situation. This was essentially the first time they would be forced into each other’s company, and frankly that scared the hell out of me. I would need to play interference. I wouldn’t have Fiona belittling my girl.

The evening breeze picked up strands of Emmy’s hair and lifted them from her neck. I watched her, mesmerized, until a wave of laughter with a British accent interrupted our silence. My stomach cramped. My new girlfriend and my ex-lover at the same table. Fuck.

Emmy

Fiona strolled onto the terrace in a flowing orange sundress on the arm of an older bald man, who I assumed was our company for the evening. She looked gorgeous, as always, and I hated her for it. While my hair was three times its normal volume and frizzed out of control from the humidity, hers was flat-iron sleek and smooth and hung in a glossy wave down her back. Her lips were painted in pink gloss, and were those false eyelashes? I resisted rolling my eyes and instead followed Ben’s lead, standing to greet them both.

She kissed Ben on both cheeks and I clenched my fists so tightly my nails cut into my palms. Ouch. Breathe, Emmy, I reminded myself.

The bald man introduced himself as Gentry Smith. He was the photographer for the photo shoot.

Once we’d ordered drinks, Fiona stood from the table, one hand resting on her little swollen belly. “Will you excuse me a moment? I need to visit the loo. This baby makes me wee more.” She chuckled.

Whore.

I had no patience for her or this pregnancy. If that made me a terrible person, so be it. I was trying my damnedest to be polite and well mannered around her. I couldn’t also be expected to control my thoughts. And in my mind, I’d clawed her eyes out before the appetizer even arrived.

We dined on grilled swordfish, tiger prawns, and scallop mousse, which I didn’t think I’d like until Ben urged me to try a bite from his fork. I found it surprisingly good. But my favorite dish of the night was the garlic and Parmesan risotto. It was creamy and salty and I ate every bite on my plate.

I did my best to ignore Fiona, which was relatively easy. I focused on the delicious food as Gentry talked endlessly about all the models he’d shot over the years. It was poor taste, really, to brag as much as he did, but none of us minded because I sensed that Ben and Fiona were just as glad for the distraction as I was. He only talked briefly of their photo shoot on the beach, and I’d asked a few basic questions about his start and end times, like any good assistant would, before the topic was changed to cover the rest of Gentry’s impressive list of accomplishments.

For being pregnant, Fiona didn’t seem to have much of an appetite. She merely pushed the food around her plate, playing with it more than eating. For dessert, though, she requested pink grapefruit salad, and though I’d wanted the cheesecake I kept my trap shut and nodded along, ordering the same.

Ben leaned toward me. “Are you sure that’s all you want?”

“Yes, that’s fine,” I answered.

He frowned, the crease in between his brows deepening as he studied me. He knew me too well.

Ben’s left hand remained on my knee throughout the meal, his thumb softly caressing my skin. A few times I caught Fiona’s gaze slipping back and forth between me and Ben and I wondered if she was pondering what he saw in me. I couldn’t say I really felt bad for her; it was more like a subtle awareness permeating the air, reminding us all that he’d picked me and not her.

His hand crept higher on my thigh, his fingertips pressing into my flesh. Lifting my chin to look into his eyes, I saw a man in need. His intense hazel gaze was locked on mine and a shiver zipped up my spine. I had no idea what he was trying to tell me. Only that he seemed to need something. I fought to quiet the anxieties plaguing my mind.

He’d completely tuned out Gentry’s rambling. His gaze was glued to my thighs where the sundress had hitched up when I’d sat down, and his fingertips traced little circles along the tender skin. His eyes were dark and hungry, almost primal in his craving for me. I pushed my knees together, trying to stop the little darts of pleasure racing up from his touch and making my panties feel constrictive over my sensitized flesh.

He’d been so attentive, so loving that I was starting to feel guilty making him wait so long. We’d already been intimate, already breached that boundary—many, many times in fact. But now because of the whole Fiona pregnancy fiasco, I’d sworn off sex with him. It probably wasn’t fair for him. Or for me. Maybe I would change that tonight.

After dinner Ben led me inside our darkened hotel room, pressing my back against the door and taking my face in his hands. I tried to decipher the meaning in his haunted gaze but suddenly his mouth was crashing against mine, his lips firm and demanding. I parted my lips and his warm tongue sought entrance, sucking at mine greedily. His mouth moved down my throat, licking and stroking the skin with his tongue. Pressing his hips to mine, I felt the evidence of his arousal and I brought my hands up to his chest, my nails lightly raking over his firm pecs and abs. Moving his mouth from my skin, Ben captured my wrists and pinned them above my head. “Don’t touch me if you’re not going to finish the job, sweetheart.”

Holding my hands against the door, Ben pushed his erection into my belly and a raw whimper escaped my throat. His eyes were filled with desire, and when he pressed into me I felt the rigid lines of his body, smelled the crisp sent of his cologne, and heat pooled between my legs.