The Heiress's Pregnancy Surprise (Heirs to an Empire 2)

Her last words sent a jolt of electricity through him. He’d been on the receiving end of her wickedness and it had been heavenly. But he didn’t show it. Didn’t dare. Goodbye was going to be hard enough. There were so many things to say, but he couldn’t, so the result was saying nothing at all of any consequence and feeling awful about it.

The plane touched down and then taxied to the gate. Because they were first class, it was barely a wait at all before they were cleared to leave. Jacob reached into the bin and took out his small case and garment bag—all he’d taken with him for the week. Then he stood back as Charlotte retrieved her smaller bag and smiled at him.

It wobbled just a little.

He had to be the strong one. Nothing good would come of tears or, worse, false promises. They had to leave each other smiling. A clean break and no regrets. He couldn’t live with anything else.

Then they were walking toward the gate, the hollow sound of passengers rolling their cases and heavy footsteps filling his ears. Charlotte had to get her bags and go through customs, and Jacob would head in an opposite direction, to go through security to catch his connection. They paused, and Jacob looked down into her sweet, beautiful face. “I guess this is i

t.”

She nodded. “No tears or sappy goodbyes.” She smiled and he noticed it didn’t wobble this time. “Just thank you. For doing your job, and then for being...” She paused, and his heart constricted. “For being my friend. I’ll never forget this week. Not ever.”

“Nor will I.” His voice came out steady and strong. It had to, no matter what was going on in his head and in his heart. Not since Jacinta had he cared for someone like this. Had he let someone in. Did she realize that? “Take care of yourself, Charlie.”

“I will. And you do the same.”

And yet neither of them moved. His gaze clung to hers, his hands itched to touch her again. He almost wanted her to ask him to stay. To have one more night with her in Paris before going home to London. But she remained silent, her eyes wide and lips frozen in a smile.

He was leaving. But not without one last kiss.

His bag was over his left shoulder and the garment bag looped over his arm, but he took his right hand and placed it on her cheek, the skin soft beneath his rough palm. He bent his head and touched his lips to hers, gently, as tenderly as a rough soldier like him could manage, needing to taste her and yet ever aware that they were standing in the middle of an airport with crowds milling about them. All too soon he pulled back, but when he did, her eyes were shiny with tears.

“I couldn’t go without doing that,” he said. What a fool he’d been to agree to her two days of bliss. Now he was addicted. Needed more of her. All of her. And he couldn’t have her.

“I’m glad. But you have to go now, Jacob. Saying goodbye isn’t one of my talents.”

A smile touched his lips. “Mine, either.” He adjusted the strap of his bag. “Goodbye, Charlie.”

“Goodbye, Jacob.”

He turned and walked in the direction of his gate, his heart pounding. Goodbye wasn’t enough. But saying “I love you” was too much.

“Home,” he murmured, and quickened his stride, refusing to look back.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Six weeks later

CHARLOTTE STEPPED INSIDE the boardroom and wondered where the hell the coffee was. She was tired all the time. She credited it to putting in long hours since her return from New York, as well as trying to recoup a sleep deficit. Once at home, she’d found it impossible to fall asleep. Her bed seemed too big without Jacob in it. She lay awake night after night, reliving their short time together until exhaustion finally overtook her. For the past few weeks, the insomnia had finally eased. But the fatigue didn’t. It was annoying. She didn’t have time for this.

No one else had arrived for the meeting yet, so she took advantage of the quiet to take a few deep breaths. It was then she saw the new American Vogue issue on a table.

She picked it up and flipped through, looking for Fashion Week coverage. She found it, feeling a persistent sense of anger at the runway shots. Her interview wasn’t due to be out until the next issue, and she’d done a follow-up by phone after the sabotage incident. So it was a surprise when she saw a few photos from the Aurora party included in the coverage. Including one with her smiling and dancing with Jacob, who was smiling one of his rare smiles back down at her.

Mon Dieu, she missed him. More than she wanted to admit.

“That was a spectacular dress choice,” her mother said at her shoulder.

Charlotte closed the magazine. “Thank you.”

“So many things happened that week. Do you want to finally talk about them?”

Charlotte spun and faced her mother. “What do you mean? We’ve been through the whole thing with Amelie and how we’re going to move forward.”

“I don’t mean the sabotage, ma petite. I mean you. You’re different.”

Alarm jolted through Charlotte as she tried not to think about what had precipitated that change. Jacob’s words, his questioning, his confidence in her. She’d tried to recapture the feeling on her return; updated her wardrobe with some more daring choices and colors, exerted her opinion more readily during meetings. Yet somehow it just wasn’t the same. She didn’t feel as capable, and couldn’t figure out why.