"I don't mind it."

"I don't see everything that way," she said, and he knew she meant the baby.

"I know you don't."

She bit her lip and nodded slowly. He wrapped his arm tightly around her waist and led her deeper into the opulent ballroom. People were milling around, looking at the artwork on the wall, placing written bids that were much higher than any of the work was worth. But proceeds went to a children's hospital charity and that meant generosity was high, and very few people actually cared what it was they were bidding on.

Hannah stopped in front of a painting of a woman. The woman was on a busy street, in a crowd. She was facing a different direction to everyone else, and there was s.p.a.ce around her, while all the other people in the picture nearly blurred together into an indistinguishable ma.s.s.

"She's special," he said. She certainly stood out. She reminded him of Hannah. A woman who could never simply blend.

"She looks lonely to me," Hannah said.

He turned to look at her. She was staring at the painting, her attention rapt. "No one is touching her. No one's going with her."

"But she stands out," he said.

"By herself."

He extended his hand and brushed his thumb across her cheek. She turned to face him, eyes wide. "She's not alone."

She blinked. "I ... I want to bid on this one." She took a slip of paper from the podium and wrote down a number she hid from him, then dropped the folded white square into the box.

"I think I'll place a bid, too." He got his own slip of paper and wrote his own bid on it. He was certain he would beat her. And then he would give it to her.

"You look confident there, Eduardo."

"I am," he said, dropping his bid into the box. "I think I'll win."

"Do you?"

"I do."

"A wager then."

"A wager then."

"Mmm-hmm. If I win, I get a favor. If you win, you get a favor."

"A favor?"

"A foot rub, a half day at work. Something. Be imaginative."

"I don't know if I'm imaginative."

"I'm sure you can be," she said.

"All right then, I take your bet."

She extended her hand and he shook it, then he leaned down and pressed his lips to her knuckles. Heat shot through him, down to his gut, gripping him tight with fiery fingers.

"Good," she said, her tone light, breathless. "When do they announce the winners?"

He checked his watch and the sign on the podium. "Bidding is closed in five minutes and it looks like they'll take about thirty minutes to announce the winners."

"Then we have some mingling time."

He could have groaned at that, but he kept his mind busy thinking of just what he would ask of her when he got his favor. A kiss maybe. More. The image of her lips on his body, on his shaft, as she'd done the first night they were together haunted him, intoxicated him.

They'd been strictly hands-off for the past week, and for good reason. And it was likely she hadn't intended the favor to be s.e.xual, but d.a.m.ned if he could think of anything else.

He would ask for something else when he won. But for now he would let his mind wander.

The announcement was five minutes late, and in that s.p.a.ce of five minutes he was more aware of the time than he'd been in his recent memory.

The man who was orchestrating the evening started reading off the auction winners and directing them to go to the back of the room to write their checks.

"Lot number fourteen goes to Hannah Vega," he said, barely taking a breath before moving on to fifteen.

Hannah shot him a triumphant smile. "I win." She breezed away from him, going to write her check and claim her spoils, he imagined. He followed after her.

"What did you bid?"

"A lot," she said, smiling sweetly.

"Why?"

"I can. I have a lot of money, Eduardo. But you know that."

"I know it, but I didn't know you were the type."

"I very much am. I give a lot to charity. And I really liked the painting."

"It looked like it made you sad."

She shrugged. "I connected with it. I'm going to hang it in our house."

"How much was your bid?" he repeated.

She gave him a figure that made his brows raise. They reached the back table and she dashed off a check and handed it to the woman manning the station.

"Would you like it delivered, Senora Vega?"

Hannah nodded. "I would, thank you." She bent and scribbled his address on a piece of paper. "To this address, please."

Eduardo took his own checkbook out and wrote a check for double what Hannah had bid on the painting. "I would like to add a contribution," he said, setting it on the table.

She lifted a brow but didn't say anything until they walked away. "Big man," she said.

"It's for a good cause, Hannah."

"Yes, but you mainly did it to show me up."

He shrugged. "I don't want people thinking you had to be the one to bid and pay."

"Does it matter?"

"Of course it does. I'm your husband, I'm supposed to take care of you."

She raised a brow and pursed her lips. "Oh, really. Well, all right then. I'm just glad you donated."

"Are you ready to go?"

She nodded. "If you are."

"I was ready to leave before we got here."

She laughed and took hold of his arm, giving little finger waves to everyone they pa.s.sed by. "Don't look like such a storm cloud."

He forced a smile. "Better?" he asked.

"Much better," she said through her teeth.

They took a car back to his penthouse and she didn't make a mention of her favor the whole ride there. She was uncharacteristically quiet. Hannah was not known for her quiet.

When they got inside she leaned against the door, staring off into s.p.a.ce, chewing her bottom lip.

"You must be tired," he said.

"A bit."

"Me, too. I'm going to head to bed. I'll see you in the morning, Hannah." After tonight, with her in that dress, with all of the touching and teasing that had happened at the charity event, it took every ounce of his strength to keep from going and kissing her.

"Wait," she said, just as he turned his back.

"What is it?" He turned to her, his heart pounding heavily.

"You still owe me a favor."

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

HANNAH felt like she was going to shake apart. At least, the shaking seemed to be happening from the inside out. There was small consolation in the fact that when she pushed off from the door and took a step toward him, her limbs didn't tremble.

"You're not getting out of it so easily," she said.

"Granting you your favor?"

She nodded, still not quite sure how she was going to execute the next part of her plan. Not quite sure when it had become her plan. She was hazy on the whole thing. But sometime between putting the huge figure down on her auction sheet and getting in the car with Eduardo, his heat so close to her she felt like she was burning up, she'd decided that her favor was going to involve getting him back into her arms. Back into her bed.

To what end? Oh, that she wasn't sure about.

About the only thing she was sure about was how much she wanted him. And she was ready to act on it.

"First things first, how much did you have to drink tonight?" she asked.

He lifted his chin, one dark brow lifted. "Why?"

"I'm stone-cold sober, a side effect of pregnancy, and I refuse to take advantage of a drunk man."

"I'm as sober as you are."

She nodded. "Excellent." She sounded so calm. Her voice was odd to her own ears because it simply didn't match the jittery, fearful excitement that was rolling through her body. She looked around the penthouse, trying to plan her next move, trying to figure out what to ask him to do.

She closed her eyes and shook her head. She wasn't planning it. She was just going with what she wanted.

The idea of Eduardo as her personal playground was fairly enticing. The idea of getting just what she wanted from him. No-holds-barred access. She was on board with that.

She walked toward him, her heart pounding hard. "Take off your tie."

He raised his hand to the red knot at the base of his throat and paused. "Is that the favor? Because I was going to do this up in my room anyway."

"No. My favor comes in stages."

"Is that allowed?"

She smiled, a flush of warmth suffusing her. "Maybe not. But I'm up for a little rule breaking. How about you?"

He didn't move and for a moment, she was afraid he would say that he wasn't in the mood to break any rules. That they needed to keep things bland and pa.s.sive and safe between them.

Then he started working the knot on the tie, the bit of red silk sliding down the front of his black jacket and pooling on the floor. He stood, waiting. For another command.

"Jacket," she said.

He obeyed.

"Now your shirt."

She watched, her heart in her throat as he undid the b.u.t.tons at his cuffs, then worked the b.u.t.tons at the front of the shirt, consigning it to the floor, as well. She was happy for the chance to look at him with the light on, to really take in the sight of his body. The sculpted, well-defined muscles, his broad masculine frame.

Just looking at him made her b.r.e.a.s.t.s ache, her nipples tighten. She'd never wanted like this. Never before him, never in the years during their separation. She knew she never would again.