The Tycoon's Marriage Bid. Allison Leigh

when she was a teenager. But it was back east somewhere, I think. She says she hated it.”

      “Some people do. Over easy or scrambled?”

      “I’m not sure how I feel about you cooking for me.”

      “Scrambled it is.”

      Her lips parted as he turned away. She saw his legs through the fireplace when he walked through the living area on the other side. Then she couldn’t see him anymore, but could hear him in the kitchen. Opening cupboards. Rattling pans.

      “Over easy,” she called after him. “Thank you.”

      She heard his cell phone beep and then his low voice. “Hi, babe.”

      Great. If it wasn’t Valerie, it could have been any other dozen women he was addressing. She didn’t want to overhear another word, and she started to swing her legs off the bed, intending to go to the bathroom.

      The tips of her toes were engulfed in shaggy animal-print carpet before she stopped. She slowly drew back her feet until they rested on the mattress, and her knees would have been under her chin if not for the bulge of the baby.

      She wasn’t supposed to walk anywhere. How could she forget that? Just because Alex was talking to his latest squeeze?

      She pushed both hands against her temples, then raked back her hair, holding it behind her neck, and studied her reflection in the mirrored wall opposite the bed. The football jersey she wore was old, the once-deep red now faded to a milky, tomato soup color.

      It had been Cody’s.

      For a while, when she’d learned she was pregnant, she had stopped wearing the shirt to bed. Feeling as if continuing to wear it would be a betrayal of him, somehow. But when she’d lain awake night after night, she’d finally dug it out of her drawer and put it on.

      Her sleep had improved, but only marginally.

      “Want toast?” Alex asked loudly.

      “Yes.” She wondered if he cooked breakfast for his female guests.

      Doubtful. She’d arranged a few dinner meetings for him at the Echelon. Alex need only express a request and the staff there hopped. The breakfast, tastefully arranged on sterling, dome-covered platters, would arrive on a linen-draped cart. Like something out of a movie.

      She lowered her forehead to her knees and closed her eyes. Her fingers absently worked through the tangles in her hair.

      Speculating over who Alex shared breakfast with had never particularly pained her. Not until he’d broken his own record of loving and leaving them within a few weeks by continuing to see Valerie for months. On end.

      That had hurt. Seeing his smile whenever Valerie dropped by for an unexpected visit—during which he always shut his office door. Normally, Alex never shut the door between his office and Nikki’s. Not even when he was firing someone.

      “Here. You got scrambled, anyway. Yolks broke when I cracked the shells.”

      She looked up to see Alex holding out a plate. Along with the eggs, there was toast. Cut in half diagonally and a little too brown beneath the red jam, but she was too hungry to complain.

      “Thanks.” She started to take the plate, but he held it out of reach.

      “Scoot back.”

      She lowered her legs, flushing a little because Cody’s shirt was falling off one shoulder and the hem ended midthigh. She slid back on the bed, swiftly pulling the slippery silver sheet over herself as she did so. When Alex finally handed her the plate, his eyes were full of amusement.

      So she didn’t look at his eyes. She focused on the plate. Before she could set it on her lap, though, he whipped a red-and-blue-checked dish towel over her thighs. “Wouldn’t want to get strawberry jam on the sheets,” he murmured.

      Without thought, Nikki snorted softly. “A little strawberry jam is probably the most innocent thing this room has seen on the sheets.” She was cringing before the last word left her lips, and she shoved half a toast slice in her mouth to confiscate the jam.

      Alex had an unholy grin on his face when she finally was able to swallow. But he said nothing. Just handed her the tall glass of milk he held.

      She took a sip and set it aside on the nightstand, then started on the eggs. “They’re pretty good.”

      “Imagine that.”

      She took another forkful, glancing up at him. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

      “Already did.”

      “You, um, don’t have to stay here to keep me company while I eat. You must have things you need to do.”

      “Watching the ficus grow?”