âTyce.â
Sage called his name again. He lifted his head and looked at her with those intensely dark, pain-filled eyes.
âTake my offer to walk away. This child will be raised a Ballantyneâno one will ever have to know that he, or she, is yours. Iâm giving you permission to forget about this conversation.â
Something flashed in Tyceâs eyes. Sage tried to ignore him as he stepped up to walk beside her, a silent, brooding, sexy mass of muscle.
âWeâre not done discussing this, Sage,â he said, his voice a low growl.
âWe really are, Tyce.â Sage forced the words through her tight lips. âDonât contact me again. We are over.â
âYeah, you can think that,â Tyce said, standing up. âBut youâd be wrong.â
* * *
Little Secrets: Unexpectedly Pregnant
is part of the Little Secrets series:
Untamed passion, unexpected pregnancyâ¦
One
âWhy does this sculpture make me think of hot, amazing, fantastic sex?â
Sage Ballantyne looked at the woman she hoped would become her sister-in-law, but didnât reply to her outrageous statement. Tyce Latimoreâs work, whether it was an oil painting or a wood-and-steel sculpture, always elicited a strong reaction. He was one of the best artists of his generation. Of many generations.
Thank God he was also the only artist of his generation who refused to attend his opening nights. If there had been even the slightest chance he might appear, then Sage wouldâve stayed away.
Sage flicked her eyes over the abstract six-foot-high sculpture. It was unusual and very unlike Tyceâs normally fluid lines.
âThere isnât a curve in sight but it screams passion and lust,â Piper said.
Sageâs eyebrows lifted. âIâm not seeing what you are.â
Piper pulled Sage to stand next to her.
âTry this perspective,â Piper suggested, her cheeks tinged with pink.
Sage laughed at Piperâs embarrassment and turned back to look at the sculpture. Actually, from this angle it did look like two people bent over a desk, and Piper was right; when you made that connection you saw the passion in the piece. This sculpture would be a talking point in his reviews. The art critics would wax eloquent about Tyceâs take on human sexuality.
Sage knew how he felt about sex; he liked it. Often and any way he could get it.
âBut why the frog?â Piper asked before moving on to another display.
Every muscle in Sageâs body stiffened. Oh, no, he hadnât. No way, no how. Not even Tyce Latimore would have the balls to...
She looked at the sculpture again and yep, there on the âdeskâ was a tiny, beautifully made steel frog, its surface treated so that it took on a greenish hue. In an instant Sage flashed back to three years before.
Theyâd arrived separately to a party, not wanting to tip off the world about their relationshipâthe heiress and the hot artist, professionally and personally, would be big newsâand theyâd spent the evening pretending not to know each other. The tension had been hot and sexy and, by the time Tyce dropped a quick suggestion in her ear that they meet in the library, she was a vibrating, hot, sticky mess of take-me-now. Within twenty seconds of slipping into the room, the door was locked, Tyce had her dress up her hips and had stripped her of her soaking thong. Heâd unzipped, leaned her over the desk and heâd taken her, hard and fast, from behind.
The jade frog on her hostâs desk had watched them, thoroughly unamused.
Sage hauled in a breath as her heart tried to claw its way out of her chest. How dare he? What theyâd done together was not for public dissemination.
Just another reason sheâd been right to walk away from him three years ago.
âThat sculpture was difficult.â Tyceâs unmistakable deep and velvety voice came from behind her. âI was constantly distracted by the memories of that night. And others.â