It was the best offer he could make her, and the only one, he was sure, that would entice her to agree to this crazy scheme.
She had to consent to it. If she didn’t, he’d have to look for a wife elsewhere. And that meant he wouldn’t be able to see Tasha during the charade. That thought settled low and heavy in his stomach.
At the airport, the car rolled to a stop on the tarmac near one of de Laurent Enterprises’ many jets.
Simon left the car first and lingered by the door until Andre emerged. They headed for the stairs leading up to the airplane and Andre found himself praying for a favorable outcome with Tasha.
He wasn’t looking forward to trying his brother Julian’s method for finding a wife. Granted, it’d turned out well for Julian, but Andre didn’t see much chance of that happening for him. No matter what happened, somebody was going to get hurt. Thanks to Edouard Renault’s will, not just Andre’s inheritance depended upon his getting married.
Fifteen minutes later, Andre was fastened in his seat belt, eagerly awaiting take-off. When the airplane finally started moving, he leaned back into the plush, oversized chair and closed his eyes.
Hours from now, his troubles would either be solved, or just beginning.
Queasy sensations in Tasha Gordon’s belly were quickly turning into an overwhelming need to gag. If she had to deliver one more plate of fried eggs, sunny-side-up, she’d lose the bagel she’d had for breakfast.
Just her luck, Electric Avenue was packed with locals and tourists on this Saturday morning. She was glad she didn’t have any auditions, bit parts, or commercials lined up for today, because all she wanted to do was go home and fall into bed.
Hurrying toward the double doors leading into the kitchen, she glanced at her watch. 10:58 am. Another hour before she was free to go home and…well, to be honest, hugging the toilet seemed far more likely than hitting the bed.
Pushing her way through the doors, the smell of bacon, onion, and burnt toast wrapped around her in a thick, suffocating vapor. That queasy feeling she’d been experiencing rose into her throat.
Oh, God…. She made a beeline for the employees’ bathroom in the back.
Moments later, with shaky hands she splashed cold water onto her face and then looked up into the mirror, startled but not surprised at her pale reflection.
The rosy scented air freshener overwhelming the restroom threatened to start the process all over again. She held her breath while dabbing her face and hands with a paper towel before leaving the small, confined space.
Thanks to her weak stomach, Tasha was forced to leave work early. The sad part was that she didn’t even care about the lost tips from the customers she would’ve waited on in that last hour.
Truth was, she’d been feeling nauseous for several days now. Normally that wouldn’t cause her a whole lot of alarm—except that her period was three weeks late.
Finally, Tasha accepted that she’d better stop by the drugstore.
Tasha entered the apartment and tossed her keys into the jade-green bowl on the table in the entryway. She glanced at the small brown paper bag in her hand and gave it a moment’s pause before setting it on the table next to the bowl.
God, it’s hot in here. She headed for the bedroom, shedding clothes as she went. A cool shower. That’s what she needed. Maybe it’d help her feel better. She cranked the water on, tested the temperature and waited until it felt just right before stepping inside and closing the door.
She lifted her head to the spray and let the water pelt her face. As individual streams cascaded down over her body, she secretly hoped it’d wash away the yucky feeling that’d taken up residence in her belly and was now trying to move up into her throat.
Tasha lingered in the shower longer than usual. Anything to put off the inevitable. But when the water started to turn cold, and stayed that way after turning the hot all the way up, she twisted the faucet into the off position. She grabbed the towel hanging over the shower door and wrapped it around her body, then opened the door and raked her wet hair behind her ear before stepping out onto the bathroom rug.
A cold bite rushed over her and she draped the towel tighter. Stepping up to the sink, she wiped the moisture off the mirror with her wrist and peered through the distortion.
Tasha swabbed her body dry and tousled some of the dampness out of her hair. Once the chill left her, she dropped the towel to the floor, turned sideways and peered at her belly in the mirror.
There were no telltale signs to help her guess what the outcome of the test might be. Her tummy was as flat as it had always been. But her boobs, now those had acquired a noticeable swell, not to mention soreness, in the last couple of weeks.
She felt the moan rising up into her throat, and it threatened to bring with it the nausea.
Tasha slipped her arms into the silk camisole that Andre had given her. She secured the belt as she made her way into the hall. Cutting through the living room, she glanced briefly to the brown paper bag on the table in the entryway. Tasha dismissed it and continued into the kitchen.
If she made herself some soup or something—it had to be something light for her queasy stomach—she could put off the unavoidable a little while longer.
Searching through the pantry, she found a can of Minestrone and a can of Chicken and Stars. Camille had always laughed at her for eating kids’ soup. But Tasha didn’t care. She liked it better than that chunky stuff.
She contemplated the Minestrone, for about a second, and then opted to go with the Chicken and Stars instead, figuring it’d settle on her stomach easier. While heating it up in the microwave would’ve been quicker, she decided on the more traditional route, stovetop, because it would take longer. Right now, for Tasha, it was all about postponing the inescapable.
While the soup heated, Tasha grabbed a bowl, some crackers, and a spoon. After crumbling a handful of crackers up in her bowl, she checked the soup’s temperature. Perfect. She ladled a scoop into the bowl and took a seat at the kitchen table.
Tasha was about to take a bite when the thought entered her head that it might be a good idea to have a glass of milk. Once she had the nutritious drink in hand, she returned to the table and took her sweet time eating.
When she was done, she let out a soft sigh and pushed herself up from the table. There was no sense putting it off any longer. Besides, she couldn’t think of anything else to do, other than take a nap. But that’d just turn out badly. She’d probably have dreams about taking pregnancy tests.
No matter how much she wanted to put it off a little longer, she lumbered into the living room and on to the table in the entryway. She snatched up the paper bag and headed to the bathroom.