rolling his eyes he was clearly doing it so hard. “But,” he added as she glared at the phone, “if you want, I’ll create an exercise program for you so you can eat midnight ice cream without guilt. Baby-belly friendly.”
Sarah turned over onto her back, her stupid heart going all mushy at the affectionate tone of his voice. “Let’s go get ice cream.”
IT FELT LIKE SNEAKING OUT WHEN she got into Abe’s SUV, as if the two of them were doing something naughty. And then she caught a hint of his masculine scent, saw the bulge of his biceps as he put the car into gear, and it definitely felt like she was setting herself up for trouble. She should stop him right now, open her door, and go back inside the house.
She didn’t.
Instead, she settled in and said, “I did a search, found an all-night grocer where we can grab ice cream.”
“I got something better. Flossie going to be okay?”
And now he was asking about her dog. Next thing she knew, he was going to turn up with an armful of puppies and totally demolish her defenses.
“Happily asleep in her inside bed,” Sarah told him even as she fought to keep her mushy heart from overflowing its bounds. “She won’t need to go outside till morning now.”
Waiting for her gate to close behind the SUV, Abe glanced at the skinny black jeans and red top she’d put on with black heels. “How did you manage to dress so nicely so quickly?”
Sarah’s toes curled. “Practice.” She’d also done her face in five minutes flat; it was part of her armor, how she survived this world where she was an imposter who didn’t have the right background or connections. “You look good too.”
Her rock-star ex was wearing blue jeans and boots, but instead of a T-shirt, he’d thrown on a collarless white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. It was probably designer. When Abe was sober, he liked clothes… and he’d liked buying them for her too. Once, while he’d been on tour, she’d received the most enormous delivery from Chanel.
It had made her feel loved, made her almost forget that he’d left her behind.
“Thanks.” His voice merged with the bittersweet memory of the phone call they’d shared that day, her in LA, Abe several states away. “I figured you’d look good so I better not turn up in sweats.”
Sarah knew that even if he had, he’d have looked hot. Abe was just generally hot, so any effort at dressing up only took him into überhot territory. And she should not be noticing that. This new relationship of theirs was about the baby, nothing else. “Where are we going?” she asked, recognizing the street seconds later. “The restaurants along here will all be closed.”
“You hear that Florentina Chastain is doing a limited run of midnight dessert sittings?”
Sarah’s eyes widened. “No?” She was an acknowledged Scrooge with her money, but the one thing she bought without fail every month was a small box of Chastain’s handmade chocolates. “She probably sold out weeks ago.” The boutique chocolate and dessert shop had a five-star reputation among the chocoholics and the glitterati.
It was a pity many of the latter just came to see and be seen.
Such a waste of the most exquisite desserts known to mankind.
“This dessert-sitting deal is to support charity,” Abe told her. “I rang and promised them twenty grand for a table.”
“You just spent twenty grand on dessert?” It came out a squeak.
A shrug. “I have enough money for five lifetimes—and the charity’s for feeding hungry kids, so I figure it’s worth it.”
Sarah went quiet.
“Hey.” Abe glanced at her as he slid into a parking space not far from the boutique’s storefront; the seating section was in the covered and air-conditioned courtyard in back. “I thought you’d like this, but if—”
Sarah made herself speak. “No, let’s go. I’m excited.” No lie—she wanted to do this, even if it reminded her too much of her past.
Because she had far more in common with those hungry kids than she did with the no doubt dressed-to-the-nines crowd inside. “How much were the actual tickets?” she asked after they’d exited onto the quiet and otherwise empty sidewalk.
“A grand each, I think.”
It took them less than a minute to reach the boutique.
And then slender, striking Florentina Chastain with her dark Cleopatra eyes, pure cream skin, and hair as black as midnight was welcoming them. Dressed in a simple knee-length black skirt that hugged her form