Chapter Ninety Three

When Collins stroked her stomach, would their baby feel his touch as she did, deep in her womb? Would he love it if he knew it was there? Would he come to love her? She needed so much from this week with him.

The waiter came to take their orders. Jasmine decided on what she hoped was a bland chicken dish, not wanting anything to upset her stomach tonight. Collins ordered steak and a bottle of wine, which she knew she wouldn't share. Maybe a glass of it wouldn't hurt, but she was glad water was served without her even asking for it.

After the waiter had gone, Collins sat back and eyed her with a rueful twinkle . 'I really want to race you back to the hotel. Why do you suppose you have this effect on me?'

It was another chance to probe his feelings and Jasmine seized it.

'Favour says...maybe we don't get to pick whom we love. They just complement something in us.' she said.

'Love...' Collins repeated. He frowned over the word, a dark rejection of it in his eyesas he tersely asked, 'You've discussed me with your sister?'

'No, I consider what we've had together very private,' she said slowly, the urge to hurt him as he'd just hurt her welling from the cramp in her heart.

'She was trying to explain away my attachment to another man. A guy she doesn't particularly like.'

The frown deepened over a savage glower. 'You're here with me being unfaithful to some other gay?' He asked. He certainly didn’t like that idea but whether it was jealousy or contempt for such behaviour she wasn't quite sure.

'No. That relationship was over before I ever met you, Collins.' She gave him an ironic smile as she delivered the truth. 'In fact, there hasn't been anyone else since I met you. I haven't wanted anyone else.'

Her eyes blazed a challenge. She'd laid out his effect on her. Let him speak now. For several long nerve-racking moments he seemed to weigh what she'd said, then to her intense disappointment, the waiter arrived with the bottle of wine, breaking up the intimate flow between them.

After the wine had been poured and they were left alone again, Collins changed the subject, casually asking, 'So how are Leonard and Favour? Still blissful newly weds?'

'Very blissful,' Jasmine almost snapped, then bluntly stated, 'They're expecting a baby.'

His eyebrows rose in surprise. 'Straight off?'

'It's what they both want.' said Jasmine.

'Well, good luck to them.' His mouth twitched into a whimsical little smile. 'Leonard will make a very proud Dad.'

The highly sensitive question shot out before she could stop it. 'Do you ever think of having children yourself, Collins?'

He shrugged. 'One day.' He picked up his glass of wine and swirled it around, watching the movement of the liquid, not looking at her.

Deliberately not looking at her?

Tell him, her mind screamed. Cut through all this and lay it on the line.

'Leonard's father is a good dad,' Collins remarked musingly. 'He always let his children be. Leonard will be like that, too.'

His gaze snapped to hers, hard and searing. 'My father wanted to order my life as he saw lit. I had to fight against his edicts all through my teenage years. I wouldn't let him own me. No one owns me.'

Her heart sank at his last words.

Freedom was like a religion to him, the zeal for it in his eyes telling her he would never be tied down by anyone. Unless he chose it And he'd been given no choice over her pregnancy.

The scream in her mind dropped to a wail of despair. She said nothing.

She picked up her glass of wine and sipped it, barely stopping herself from grimacing over its sour taste.

'He died when I was twenty-one,' Collins went on. 'For me it was a release. For my mother, too, I think. No more conflict.'

If he'd witnessed a difficult marriage all through his childhood, what hope was there of him wanting marriage at all?

'I guess I'm lucky,' she muttered. 'My parents really do love each other and Favour and I have always felt their warm caring for us. We're a very close-knit family.'

'Yet you live apart from them,' he pointed out.

'I think every adult has a right to their own space. That doesn't mean the connection isn't there to be touched whenever it's wanted or needed.'

'Yes.' he said. Satisfaction glinted in his eyes and Jasmine realised she'd just described what he fancied with her— a connection when the desire for it occurred.

But that wasn't how it was with a baby...a child.

She felt sick.

Their food arrived and she picked at it, feeling sicker and sicker. Her womb ached, as though it, too, was being drained of hope. Eventually she had to excuse herself and head for the ladies' room. Something was wrong, too wrong for her to ignore. Her hands were trembling as she locked herself in a cubicle. A few fumbling moments later she understood what she'd been feeling and her heart was gripped by a wrenching fear. She was bleeding.

_____

Collins put down his knife and fork, giving up on the half-eaten steak.

He'd been forcing himself to eat it, any appetite he'd had completely killed by the guilt he felt at having used Jasmine to satisfy himself. He hadn't promised her anything, hadn't led her to believe in a continuing relationship, but...telling him there hadn't been any other man...talking of love... even children.

It was obvious now that she'd come to L.A. hoping for something more from him than a protracted tumble in bed, and he'd just swept that mat out from under her feel with brutal efficiency. Which had hurt her. Hurt badly. The meal on her plate was barely touched. She'd looked sick when she'd left the table and she'd been gone now...what? Five, ten minutes?

He hoped she wasn't crying.

His chest tightened at the thought of causing her to shed tears. Damn it! He'd meant to deliver a warning, not completely gut her. She'd been so... accepting of the situation on their previous two limes together. He'd thought...no harm done.