Reclaiming His Pregnant Widow by Tessa Radley Read Free Book Online Page A

across the desk, she flipped over the page and reached for the phone.
    â€œWhat are you doing?” he demanded.
    â€œCalling to make an appointment for us to go in to the bank tomorrow.”
    â€œNot tomorrow. Today,” he insisted.
    â€œI can’t—”
    Brand took a deliberate step forward, bringing him upright behind her. “I want this resolved today. So clear your schedule.”
    Clea set the phone down. “Looming over me like this is not going to help. My to-do list is off the page. I simply can’t do it today.” She jabbed her finger at the diary on the desk. “The Museum Mile Festival is just over three weeks away.”
    The phone chose that moment to ring. With a mutter, Clea reached for it. Brand’s hand closed over hers, preventing her from answering.
    The ringing stopped abruptly. Her eyes darted to the caller-ID screen, then over her shoulder, to his face. “Brand, that’s my boss!”
    â€œToo bad.”
    She gave an impatient sigh. “Don’t screw this up for me.”
    Clea had changed.
    And he was only just beginning to realize how much. Despite the fact that she clearly hadn’t spent the past few years waiting for him, Brand had still expected her to put him first. He’d been gone over four years. Secretly, he’d fantasized about not finding her at work today—and discovering her waiting for him at their home wearing nothing more than an inviting smile. It was rapidly becoming evident that he was no longer the center of her universe. But the ball of burning bitterness in the pit of his stomach wasn’t going to bring back the Clea he’d spent every minute of four hellish years living for.
    But crowding her, forcing her to acknowledge him, wasn’t helping his cause.
    So Brand rocked back on his heels and raised a mocking eyebrow, pushing harder, searching to find some sign that she still cared. “Since when has asking you for help become synonymous with screwing up?”
    Strain showed in her eyes. “I’m more than happy to help you—I’ll make the calls and take time out tomorrow. But if you’re only here to play power games, then I’m afraid you’ll have to leave. I’ve got stuff I need to check out for a brochure that’s got to be at the printer’s in a few hours.” She gestured to the pile of books on the floor. “It can’t wait.”
    There was an aching dignity about her, but Brand resisted the urge to pull her backward into his arms. Her refusal to instantly respond to his needs had placed him on the defensive. The old Clea would’ve put him first. “I’m checking out stuff, too. All the ways you’ve changed.”
    He took his time inspecting the length of her body available to his stare—the sweep of her back, the graceful curves of her hips, that gorgeous sexy bottom—and bit back a groan.
    â€œSuit yourself.” She glanced away, back down at the diary on her desk, so that—frustratingly—he couldn’t see her face. “But it’s not going to change the fact that I’ve got a job to do.”
    Brand followed her gaze down to the page she’d been doodling on when he’d entered her office. Hearts. She’d been drawing hearts. Perhaps she had been talking to her lover. He swallowed the bile at the back of his throat and inched forward until his jeans-clad thighs brushed her bottom. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind he knew he was being a jerk, but he couldn’t help himself. Couldn’t stop pushing to provoke a reaction, a burst of spontaneous emotion. The softness of her against his hip and thighs as he crowded closer caused his breath to catch.
    And, God, her sweet scent—!
    All at once adrenaline forked through him like lightning. Lowering his head, he murmured hoarsely against her nape, “Too busy for this?”
    She twisted around and their eyes locked. Despite the sizzle