The Billionaire’s Baby (5 page)

‘Would you like me to take you home?’

‘No, but thanks for offering. Still the gentleman, huh?’

In a rash, spur of the moment gesture she didn’t rationalise and would probably regret later, she leaned forward and placed a quick peck on his cheek, fighting the urge to linger.

His stubble prickled her lips, leaving them tingling and
hypersensitive as she inhaled deeply, savouring his scent. Crushed leaves, cedar, the woodsy cedar instantly transporting her back to Rainbow Creek and the huge cedar tree with its old rubber tyre she used to swing on in her parents’ backyard where he’d pushed her for hours one sultry Sunday afternoon.

It was a safe smell, an evocative smell, and she pulled away sharply before she did something even crazier like fling herself into his arms, just like she used to run from the swing into his open, waiting arms.

‘I guess there’s something to be said for old-fashioned manners if that’s the type of response I get,’ he said, rubbing his cheek where she’d left the faintest lipstick mark, a goofy grin on his face.

Her heart hitched at the familiarity of his expression, the same loopy way he’d looked at her when she’d served him the very first day they’d met, and she swayed towards him, torn between wanting to fling herself into his arms and resurrect the good old days and run as far from him as she could get.

Pulling up short, she stiffened, hoping he hadn’t read the yearning in her face. ‘I don’t have far to go.’

‘Okay, then. I guess we’ll call it a night.’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Thanks for agreeing to meet with me, Cam.’

She held her breath as he leaned towards her, his head descending slowly, her heart pounding in anticipation of a good-night kiss she shouldn’t want so damn much.

He took his time, and she clenched her hands into fists to stop from reaching out, bunching his T-shirt and yanking him towards her.

Her eyelids fluttered shut, and she tilted her face up, silently praying he’d go for her lips, guessing he’d play the gentleman to the end and settle for her cheek after all this time.

‘You have my card. Use it,’ he whispered against her ear,
his warm breath tickling the sensitive skin behind her lobe and sending tiny shivers of desire down her spine.

Her eyes flew open to find him staring at her with way too much perception, as if he knew what she wanted but would make her wait for it.

Well, he’d be waiting a long time considering she had no intention of using his card.

‘See you.’

Her noncommittal reply fell on deaf ears as his confident smile broadened, and she sent him a jaunty wave as she strolled away, resisting the urge to peek over her shoulder to see if he was watching her. By the heat burning holes in her back and spreading, he was, but she didn’t look back.

Just like he hadn’t when he’d left her high and dry and walked out on her in Rainbow Creek.

C
AMRYN
gnawed on her bottom lip, giving the screwdriver an extra vicious twist as she tried to fix the refrigerator door for the third time.

The screwdriver slipped, sheering off the hinge and gouging a deep gash into the pale oak cabinet housing the fridge, and she swore, shoving the useless tool back into the pink tool case designed especially for ‘the independent woman’.

‘Is it the
bloody tool
that’s the problem or the supposed expert wielding it?’

She narrowed her eyes, sending Anna a glare she reserved for rude customers. ‘I never said I was an expert.’

‘No? Then what’s with the fancy tools?’

Anna’s grin widened as Camryn sprang up from her squatting position and kicked the offending tool case under the bench.

‘Apparently they’re only good for hammering the odd picture hook or tightening the odd loose screw.’ Which was exactly what she had—quite a few loose screws if she thought she could fix something requiring bigger biceps than hers.

‘As for fixing fridge hinges…’ She blew out an exasperated puff of air, casting a malevolent glance at the offending metal hinge. ‘I hate having to call a handyman just to fix something as small as this.’

‘But if you don’t, we’ll lose tomorrow’s cheesecake supply.’ Anna paused, tapping an apricot-coloured fingernail against her bottom lip. ‘Know anyone we can call at short notice?’

Camryn’s heart sank.

She knew someone all right.

In fact, his business card had been burning a hole in her pocket all week.

She’d had no intention of calling Blane, despite the fact she did a double-take every time a tradesman entered the café and she’d dreamed of his laid-back charming smile and twinkling grey eyes several nights since.

In fact, she should have thrown his card out and would have if she’d been able to find it, but she had so many pairs of jeans she rotated as her ‘uniform’ that she’d forgotten which pair she’d worn the night he’d waltzed back into her life.

She’d assumed she’d washed them anyway and that would have taken care of that, but, as fate would have it, when she’d crouched down to fix the hinge, something had crackled in her back pocket, and she’d found his card.

If she believed in all that airy-fairy fate rubbish she would say she was meant to call him. But she didn’t, so she’d put it down to luck instead.

She needed a handyman, she’d found his card, she’d call him. That was where it would end.

And if he tried charming her again, she’d plead work and hide out in the back storeroom till he finished the job.

‘So, do you know anyone? Huh? Huh?’

Anna had been trying to get the low-down on her supper with Blane all week, and Camryn had told her the basics: they’d eaten, they’d chatted, they’d parted company, end of story. Looked like she was about to open a new chapter. Of course, she’d omitted the teensy-weensy detail of him being
her husband. What was the point of going into all that when he wouldn’t be for much longer?

‘Hold on to your latte, funny girl. I’ll give Blane a call now and see if he can swing by tonight.’

Anna’s wide grin spoke volumes: she wasn’t buying her casual attitude one bit.

‘Good idea. I’m sure Blane will be a lot more skilled with his tools.’

Rolling her eyes, she couldn’t help but chuckle at the innuendo. ‘We can only hope.’

Turning away, she slid her fingers into her back pocket, relieved and scared at the same time when they wrapped around the stiff cardboard.

She didn’t want to do this, she really didn’t, but the café came first, and if she wanted to offer her regular patrons their fix of the best cheesecake this side of the Docklands, she had no choice.

Pulling the card quickly out of her pocket, she stared at the crisp, bold font, BLANE ANDREWS, amongst the crinkles.

How many times had she absentmindedly doodled Camryn Andrews over the years? Not many, considering he’d ditched her so fast after they’d married she hadn’t had time to get around to officially changing her name.

‘Just ring him already!’

Sighing, she reached for the phone, her thumb poised over the touch buttons while she flipped the card over and over with her other hand.

‘Why don’t you go check on the latest Java bean shipment then head on home? I’ll be fine.’

‘I’m sure you will.’

Anna smirked, sending a pointed look at the card in her hand. ‘I’m sure Blane is very handy with a tool or two.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Enough with the tool jokes, already. Now, go.’

She wanted to be alone when she made the call, not trusting herself to feign nonchalance under Anna’s astute gaze when she heard his voice again.

‘Okay, boss. Catch you tomorrow.’

She waited till Anna had headed through to the storeroom before glancing at the card and punching in the number for Blane’s mobile, hoping he’d answer for the sake of her cheesecakes, hoping he wouldn’t for her peace of mind.

Her heart stalled as the dial tone was replaced by the crackle of static before ‘Blane Andrews speaking’ filtered down the line in that deep, mellifluous tone she knew all too well.

‘Hi, it’s me. How are you?’

She stiffened at the slight pause before willing herself to relax, thankful it gave her a moment to take a deep breath and slow down her thudding heart.

‘Hey, Cam. I’m fine. And glad you called.’

Cringing as she steadied herself to burst his bubble of hope, as she’d called for another reason than what he wished for, she rushed on. ‘Actually, I need your help. I’ve got a refrigerator hinge that needs fixing, and it’s pretty urgent. I gave it a shot myself but couldn’t manage it, so I was wondering if you could pop around tonight and take a look for me?’

The sound of a circular saw whined in the background, closely followed by a loud hammering that had her holding the phone an inch away from her ear.

‘Sure. Let me finish up here and I’ll be around in about two hours.’

To give him credit, he didn’t sound disappointed or annoyed. She should have been relieved. Instead, a small part of her was insulted he didn’t push her for an explanation as to why she hadn’t called or when she finally did it was to ask him for his building expertise.

Injecting false cheer into her voice, she said, ‘Great. I really appreciate it.’

‘No worries, see you later.’

He hung up first, leaving her staring at the phone in confusion.

By his own admission he wanted them to get reacquainted. He’d said it, blunt as you like, the other night. So why wasn’t he bothered she hadn’t called?

Shaking her head, she replaced the cordless phone in its charger and crumpled the card in her hand. Considering almost a week had lapsed since their infamous chat, he’d clearly got the message she wasn’t interested in resurrecting the past.

Great.

Or was it?

Blane slid his mobile back into his top pocket, rubbed his palms down the side of his jeans, and perched on the tailgate of his ute.

‘Well, I’ll be damned,’ he muttered, his words whipped away by the blustery gale blowing straight off the ocean, the wind effectively drowning out Mike’s staple gun as it hammered nails into the fence.

She’d called.

After six days, during which time he’d mentally kicked himself for being a jackass and leaving the ball in her court, she’d finally picked up the phone.

Okay, so it wasn’t quite the ‘let’s catch up and have a drink, dinner, whatever’ call he’d been hoping for, but she’d called nonetheless.

A busted fridge hinge could be fixed by anybody, but she’d rung him, which could mean one of two things: she wanted to see him again and was using the fix-it as a flimsy excuse, or she couldn’t be bothered paying some guy out of the phone
book a small fortune for such a quick job and was using their shared past to get what she wanted: a fixed fridge.

Shaking his head, he inhaled deeply, hoping a good lungful of bracing sea air might give him the clarity he’d so desperately sought since he’d first laid eyes on Cam again.

Refreshing as it was, the tang of salty sea air didn’t help as memories of the way she’d looked and smiled and sounded assailed him.

Memories of those incredibly tight black jeans moulding her long legs to perfection, those sexy knee-high boots, her hair loose and flowing around her shoulders when she’d let it out, the same rich colour as the chocolate fountain on the bar of her café.

She’d changed so much, the young, shy girl maturing into a confident, stunning woman. If she’d captivated him six years ago, it had nothing on the need coursing through him now, the need to reconcile with his wife.

His
wife
…the word rolled around and around in his brain, sweet and tempting and oh-so-right, exactly like Cam herself.

She’d been his driving force all these years, the thought of coming back to her with so much more to offer making him work longer, harder and faster than his competitors.

Reuniting with the only woman in the world for him had been a powerful motivator, and now that he’d finally seen her…well, he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Cam could stall and bluster and pretend she was immune to him all she liked, but he knew better.

He’d seen the old spark in her eyes, the tenderness when she’d swayed towards him, the flare of desire when he’d touched her.

He hadn’t sugar-coated why he’d left, and while she probably hadn’t accepted it yet, she’d come around.

In the meantime he had every intention of giving her all
the encouragement in the world to see exactly how perfect they could be together. All over again.

And if she needed concrete proof…Glancing at the house, he hopped off the ute, refastened his tool belt and sauntered back to work, whistling ‘Fly Me to the Moon’, their song, under his breath with a smile on his face and hope in his heart.

Camryn paced the length of the bar, her high-heeled boots rapping against the polished boards, echoing in the silence.

She’d flicked on the music, her favourite swing singer, only to switch it off again in a mild panic when
their
song had come on, as Blane might see it as a sign she wanted to create a cosy atmosphere or, worse, take it as an indication she’d changed her mind.

She’d retied her hair into its signature French braid, blown out all the tea-light candles, switched on the bright fluorescent strip hanging over the bar, and removed all traces of the essential oil she’d been burning since closing, all in an attempt to ‘de-cosy’ the place.

The last thing she needed was him getting the wrong idea.

Which was?

An image instantly sprang to mind of the two of them sitting in the plush lounge area of the café situated towards the back, curled up on one of the comfy sofas, sharing a steaming moccaccino, or maybe one of the fine Merlots she kept out the back, with the lamps muted and the luscious aromas of cinnamon and vanilla in the air from the essential oils she used to complement the baking.

Oh, yeah, she could see it all too clearly, and unfortunately her vision of the wrong idea appeared way too right.

Casting one last critical look around—and satisfied she’d obliterated any semblance of romantic ambience—she fiddled with the espresso machine, going through the soothing mo
tions of pouring milk into a stainless-steel jug, sliding it under the frother, filling the scoop with coffee, using the tamper, checking the water level.

The familiar actions calmed her, giving her something to do with her hands rather than tug on her plait till it unravelled.

She had nothing to be nervous about. Absolutely nothing. This was business. Nothing to do with pleasure at all.

With a groan, her head fell forward and thunked against the espresso machine. It was the thought combination of Blane and pleasure that did it.

Of course, he had to find her like this, with her head slumped against the machine, his rapid knock snapping her head to attention in time to see his face creased with concern as he peered through the glass door with hands cupped against it.

Giving her head a rueful rub, she crossed to the door and unlocked it, beckoning him in.

‘You okay?’

She ushered him in before relocking the door. ‘Yeah, fine. I was just inventing a new way to check the coffee-ground levels.’

He smiled, his dubious expression saying he didn’t believe her for a second. But what could she tell him? The mere thought of seeing him had her in a spin, wishing she could clunk her head against a hard surface repeatedly to knock some sense into herself?

‘How have you been?’

He propped against the bar, giving her a tempting view of a broad expanse of muscular chest beneath faded sky-blue cotton, not to mention a healthy set of biceps. Just what she needed, a great set of biceps…to fix the fridge, of course.

Clearing her throat, she said, ‘It’s been flat out here. I haven’t had a moment’s peace.’

His right eyebrow rose a fraction, as if questioning her
rather pathetic excuse for not calling him. ‘Yeah, work gets like that sometimes.’

Didn’t anything ever rattle him? She’d expected him to call her on her excuse, not agree with her!

‘Sounded like you were busy earlier when I rang? All that noise in the background?’

Though eager to get the hinge fixed so she could usher him out of here, the polite thing would be to make a bit of small talk before offering him a coffee then the door.

‘Yeah, the current project is coming along nicely.’

‘Bet you still get a buzz constructing something from the ground up, getting your hands dirty.’

Her gaze drifted to his hands casually clutching the bar, and languid heat stole through her body at the thought of those strong, elongated fingers and broad palms getting downright dirty with her.

Fighting a blush, and losing, she tore her gaze away and forced it upwards, not surprised to see the glint of amusement in his eyes, and his lips curved into a knowing smile.

‘I like it.’

He pushed off the bar and crossed the short space between them in a second, sending her pulse rate soaring.