I dreamed of a ship made of sunlight, sailing through the clouds; I dreamed I was wrapped within the warm embrace of a faceless god. The air smelled of flowers, and the breeze sounded like babies sighing in happy unison.

As the dream faded, the sensations remained. With a shock, I realized that I was cradled in Jonathan’s arms, nestled securely against his chest, my legs tangled with his. Through the towering windows before me, I watched the sun burn the morning mist off of the luscious gardens below.

I should do something, I thought. Get up, go home, get some breakfast. With a gasp, I sought the clock—ten to seven.

Sighing relief, I relaxed against his warm nakedness once more. My panic roused him, though, and he shifted slightly against me.

“We will need to do that several more times over the next month or so,” he mumbled through lips pressed against my shoulder.

“Yes,” I agreed, arching against him ever so slightly. “We wouldn’t want to miss me ovulating…it could happen any day.” His scent was all over me, driving me mad. My body ached for him, and I realized belatedly that my hands and feet were one step ahead of me, caressing his muscular form. “It could even happen today.”

“Well, we certainly can’t risk that,” he said, dropping kisses along my shoulder.

I turned my head to meet his mouth as his large, strong hand skimmed over my breast. Gasping, I pressed my hips back against him. Taking the invitation, he slid inside with ease. The ecstasy had no painful edge this morning, only sheer and utter pleasure.

He moved slowly in his sleepy haze, and I matched his rhythm seamlessly. He couldn’t seem to get enough of my skin, exploring me with hands and mouth, discovering each hidden pleasure, mapping my body with his touch. Heat built in my belly, and I needed more than the lazy strokes of dream-clouded sex.

“Lie back,” I told him gently as I slid away.

He did as he was told, which sent a pleasing wave of power through my mind. I sat astride him, rocking my hips as his hands moved over my body. He could sense my electricity, and he followed it, with a firm but gentle hand on my throat, skimming down to my breasts, kneading and pinching in just the right way to make me push a little deeper, land a little lower, ride a little harder.

His lazy fingers trailed down my belly, causing wet lust to drip around him; then, he pressed his thumb in just the right spot, holding it there, centering my lust where it would do the most good.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he told me, gazing into my eyes.

It shattered me. I don’t know why—he’d said the same thing the night before—but somehow, this was different. Every molecule of my body and soul reached out to him, begged him to meld with me, and I took him deeper than I ever had before. I wanted more of him; I needed more of him.

His skillful hands worked my body, sending shocks down my spine and my head whipping back as the powerful burst of pleasure ripped through me. I didn’t stop; I couldn’t. I wanted more of him; I wanted everything. Faster and faster I rode, peaking again and again, until, finally, he gripped my hips, each muscle tense and visible in his long torso, and, with several desperate thrusts, he filled me with his essence.

Breathlessly, I collapsed beside him, curling into the protective curve of his powerful arm, listening to his heart thunder away in his chest. I laid a hand over it, only to realize the subconscious intent behind the gesture.

No, I told myself. That’s not yours. This is a mutually beneficial business transaction with some stress relieving perks, that’s all. He’s your partner, not your lover, and don’t you dare forget it.

It wasn’t easy to close myself off to him, to tuck my heart away in a protective case, but it was necessary. The love swirling in my core, desperate to be shared, would just have to wait for the baby. I could love the baby without fear or restriction, utterly uninhibited. Jonathan didn’t want it. He didn’t need it.

All he needed from me was my womb and my public support, and I had given those over with just a few days of consideration. Why had I done that?

“I should go,” I said, rolling out of bed with a sheet wrapped tightly around me. I needed the barrier between my body and his irresistible pull.

He looked up at me with a confused frown. “So soon? No, stay for breakfast. I’ll be happy to drive you in to work.”

A million reasons why that was a bad idea flooded into my brain, but the only one which escaped was, “I don’t have any clothes here.”

He shrugged with a self-assured smirk. “I’ll have my driver pick something up for you.” His sharp eyes scanned the outline of my body in an uncomfortably calculating way. “I can’t keep up with vanity sizing, but I would guess you’re about a six? I’ll call my tailor up to do a fitting; then, you can relax over breakfast.”

New clothes? The idea was almost too tempting to turn down. But that was a gesture fit for a boyfriend, not a business partner. It confused me and left me stuttering.

Before I could respond, he had already lifted the receiver of the antique phone on his bedside table, and was giving languid orders to the other end.

“There,” he said, satisfied as he hung up. “Breakfast and clothes, handled. Come back to bed; the seamstress will be up momentarily.”

“Seamstress? I thought you said tailor?” I perched half-heartedly on the bed, still unsure about this new development.

He shot me a wicked grin which sent goosebumps running over my bare skin.

“Call me possessive, my dear, but I feel a female assistant would be more appropriate, considering.” He emphasized his point with a lusty gaze over my naked shoulders, and my face flushed hot.

“Oh…right. Yes.” I chewed my lip for a moment, still wracked with nerves. “But what if someone sees us driving in together?” I protested.

“They won’t,” he replied confidently. “My father never liked battling with morning traffic. My private ramp goes straight to the roof. Besides, Ms. Marshall—”

“It’s Kaley, for the love of God,” I burst out, my nerves materializing as anger. “We just spent the night together; I don’t think first names are inappropriate at this point.”

He raised an eyebrow as his lips quirked in amusement, and I looked away quickly. Why was it so damn difficult to keep my cool around him?

“Kaley, then. You left your car at the office. How were you planning to get to work?”

My mouth dropped open, and I shut it firmly. That was a very good question, and I kicked myself for not having realized that vital fact on my own.

Resigned, I settled back against the pillows with a sigh. He had it all wrapped up, from every angle. On the one hand, that was a positive thing for our future offspring; there would be no scenario unaccounted for, no plan left without a contingency. On the other hand, it made me wonder just how much he could manipulate me without my realizing it.

Had I already been maneuvered like a pawn in his master plan? Deep in my core, compounded by the slick spot between my thighs, I suspected that I had.

If so, I was in no position to fight it. Within the hour, I had been measured and fed, then led to the most glorious bathroom I had ever seen in my life. The shower area contained six shower heads, two benches, and enough hair and skin products to stock a salon. On the opposite side, the jetted tub glistened high on its pedestal, reflecting the sand-and-gold tones of the walls. Mirrors and windows flirted with one another, creating the illusion of endless, open space, and the whole room gleamed like a showroom.

I took my time in the luxurious shower, testing this and that, steaming myself clean beneath the man-made monsoon.

When I stepped out, feeling cleaner than I ever had in my life, I found two surprises waiting for me: a powder-blue tailored suit with wide legs and heart-shaped lapels, and a pearl-pink toothbrush.

Awe at the expensive material of the suit displaced my discomfort that someone had been in there while I was showering, and I finished drying off quickly in order to feel the delicious extravagance against my skin.

I spent far too long looking at myself in the mirror, turning this way and that, relishing the way the perfect fit accentuated the parts of my body that I liked the most.

“You look great,” he told me as I stepped out of the bathroom. “It suits you.”

“Your driver has an excellent sense of style,” I said, twirling for him.

I caught a small smirk on his face, but chose to ignore it. If he insisted on being unreadable, I wasn’t going to allow my good mood to be damaged in an ill-fated attempt to decipher him.

We were edging on tardiness, then, and he hurried me downstairs to where his driver was waiting with the door open. I thanked him for the clothes and he bowed, his blue eyes twinkling in an almost fatherly fashion. It made me miss my own father for a moment, but the moment passed quickly.

Mimosas and mini quiches were waiting for us in the back of the car.

“Do you always start your day like this?” I asked, completely blown away.

“Not always,” he answered smoothly. “Only when my morning company is worth the effort.”

Pleased, but confused once more, I accepted the drink. Clothes, drivers, mimosas, expensive dinners…if I didn’t know better, I would think he was trying to romance me. Romance wasn’t in the agreement, though, so why else would he be buttering me up like this?

I watched his face from across the car, but it gave me no clues. The sharp angle of his jaw emphasized his high cheekbones; his dark, heavy brows highlighted his silver eyes. His expression was pleasant, but sort of blank; there was nothing in his eyes to tell me what to expect next.

“I have a lunch appointment today, so we won’t be able to meet,” he said abruptly. “Tomorrow, however, I’m free. Come up to my office when you break for lunch. We wouldn’t want to miss a day.”

“I will,” I promised before I could help myself.

My desire for him hopelessly overwhelmed my misgivings. I knew then that I would meet him anytime and anywhere he asked me to.

Warning bells went off in the back of my mind, every worry trying to outrace the others to the forefront of my consciousness. The power differential was already astronomical, and I was only helping it grow. I drank my mimosa to shut up my chattering mind.

This is what you wanted, I reminded myself. Who cares if it’s not entirely real?

I did.

It became clear over the following weeks, as each new day brought another opportunity to touch him. Every lunchtime he had free was spent with me in his office—on each couch, the desk, the wing-backed chairs, and the conference table. When his lunches were booked, we would meet up after work.

Sometimes, we wouldn’t even make it to his place or mine, tearing each other’s clothes off on the roof of the parking garage, or going at it in the car like a couple of horny teenagers. I couldn’t get enough of him. In those moments, while he was inside me, I could almost see into his soul. In the afterglow, he was natural.

I dared not ask him any questions, though; the one time I pressed that boundary, he shut down from me. So, I simply basked in his stripped essence for as long as he allowed it, and found it warm.

As time went on, though, my feelings became more and more difficult to suppress. It was lunchtime, and he had me on the leather couch in his lounge, his delicious lips on my throat, his hand on my breast, moving inside of me in just the right way.

The words bubbled up: those three, dangerous, life-changing words. I bit my lip until it hurt as I came, holding the words inside, shoving them down until I thought my heart would break.

When he finished, his dark, silver eyes gazed softly down into mine. He kissed me so tenderly that the pieces of my heart melted and rushed to my eyes. I didn’t want him to see me cry.

I wriggled out from under him and ran to the bathroom, catching his puzzled glance in half a dozen reflections on my way.

Locking the bathroom door, I sat and sobbed my aching spirit into a fluffy white towel.

By the time my face was dry and I was composed, he was cool and collected. He handed me my clothes without a word and I dressed quickly, suddenly embarrassed by my nakedness.

“I’m leaving tonight on a business trip,” he told me conversationally, as if we hadn’t just had the most passionate sex imaginable. “I’ll be gone for two weeks. You have my personal number, correct?”

“Yes,” I confirmed, forcing my tone to match his.

“Call me if there’s any news.”

He turned away and poured two glasses of water, offering me one. I took it and drank, desperately needing to replenish my body.

When I was finished, I found him smiling at me. He stepped toward me and touched my hair, pushing it back from my face.

“We’ll need to make up for lost time when I return,” he said, lowering his voice enough to send shivers down my spine.

“Of course,” I breathed.

He kissed me again. The kisses were new and exciting, and I realized that our entire relationship was working exactly backwards. My amusement at this fact lightened my mood, and I returned to work with a spring in my step.

The next two weeks would be difficult, I imagined.

* * *

I was right. Unwilling to bother him while he was working (what would we even talk about?), I didn’t call Jonathan for the full two weeks. My dreams were full of him, though, and I woke up every morning with sticky fingers and slick thighs. Every morning, that was, but one.

The second Friday after his departure, I was awakened before my alarm with a painful rolling in my belly and a watering mouth, forcing me to race to the bathroom before I was fully awake.

“Great way to start a morning,” I said to myself irritably, wiping my mouth.

Realization dawned on me. It was morning, I was sick…

I yanked my bathroom cupboard open and pulled a pregnancy test from it. I’d stashed five of them in there over the last few weeks, just in case.

Crossing my fingers, my heart racing, I took the test.

“Three minutes,” I read off of the box as I lay the test flat on the counter. “Three eternal minutes.”

I tried to spend the time usefully, but I couldn’t get my brain together. Instead, I paced my tiny, dingy bathroom, chewing my thumbnail with my eyes glued to the clock across the hall. One minute. Two minutes. I deliberately calmed my breathing to steady my trembling hands. Three minutes!

I snatched up the test and nearly fell over. The faint pink line down the center created a plus sign; the test was positive.

“Oh my God,” I whispered, sitting down hard. “Oh my God, I’m pregnant. Of course I’m pregnant. How could I not be pregnant after all that?”

I laughed and cried together, elated and distraught in equal measure, my own emotions utterly incomprehensible to me.

Fortunately, I knew someone who could wave emotions away with a flick of his wrist.