The Billionaire’s Baby (8 page)

‘I don’t want you to think me moving in here is agreeing to give us another chance. I’m not ready for that, I’m not sure if I’ll ever be ready. I understand your rationale for leaving, but that doesn’t mean I agree with it or what it did to us. You did what you thought was right at the time, but everything has changed now. I’ve changed…’ If he only knew how…

She shook her head, trying to read the expression on his face, coming up empty. ‘So if you’re happy to hang out as friends while I’m here that’s fine, but I’m not making any promises, okay?’

Something dark and mysterious shifted in his eyes before
they crinkled at the corners, his smile a welcome sign he didn’t think she was completely batty.

‘Phew, that was some speech you just made. Don’t hold back or anything, will you?’

‘You know blunt is my middle name.’

‘Honesty is good,’ he said, but as his gaze dipped to where they held hands, she knew he was hiding something.

She’d worked in the hospitality industry her whole life, first in her parents’ coffee shop in Rainbow Creek, now in the Niche, and if there was one skill she’d developed besides making a great latte it was reading people.

Since he’d strolled into the Niche, he’d been nothing but open and straightforward, always meeting her eye, so what was with the sudden shift? Guess she’d soon find out, considering she’d agreed to live with him till her apartment was done.

Sheer and utter madness, yet she hadn’t felt this alive in a long, long time.

‘So you want to hang out with me, huh?’

His eyes gleamed with anticipation and she wondered if she’d imagined the whole evasion thing a second ago.

Tilting her chin, she flicked her hair over her shoulder, delighting in his tortured expression. ‘Absolutely.’

Leaning closer, he dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper and crooked his finger at her. ‘Well, here’s a thought.’

Smiling, she cupped a hand around her ear. ‘I’m listening.’

‘How about a date?’

‘Friends don’t date. And, besides, you’re pushing your luck, seeing as I’m already taking you to dinner.’

He laughed and capturing her hand, dragged it away from her ear to place a soft, hot kiss on her palm. The urge to curl her fingers over it was beyond tempting.

‘Dinner’s about this strong-willed woman demanding she
pay me for services rendered. So, the way I see it, a date has the potential to be something else entirely.’

She gulped as a sizzle of anticipation licked along her veins, her pulse picking up speed in pace with her hopes.

Blane had the potential to light up her life again, to give her the buzz she’d been craving since he’d walked out a lifetime ago.

So why was she hesitating?

Kids.

It always came down to her inability to conceive and the ramifications of what that might have on any relationship she’d be foolish enough to enter. Though there was more to it this time, and she knew it.

Was it possible that, deep down, she knew letting him into her life for any length of time could tempt her to want more? Maybe have a marriage for real this time, despite what she couldn’t give him?

The thought terrified her, and her stomach backflipped with dread that she might be silly enough to make the same mistake twice.

But she wasn’t silly. She wasn’t the same person anymore. This time, maybe she’d get to have her tiramisu and eat it, too.

Leaping up from the sofa, she pulled him up with her. ‘Come on, let’s go have that dinner I owe you.’

He laughed. ‘Why the rush?’

‘The sooner we eat the sooner you get to convince me why I should let you take me out on a date.’

Smiling, he picked her up and whirled her around, and she flung her head back and laughed, relishing this amazing, carefree feeling.

He’d done the same thing when she’d agreed to marry him, though back then he’d spun her around so fast and for so long they’d both tumbled onto the cushiony moss at the foot of the old cedar tree, breathless and laughing and kissing, enchanted
by the moment, so wrapped up in each other the world around them had ceased to exist.

He’d been her everything…before vanishing into nothing, and she’d be foolish to forget that, no matter how good it felt to laugh with him again.

He stopped, and she slid down his body, slowly and deliberately, soft cotton slithering against smooth silk, her skin tingling, yearning for full body contact, the shift from playful to lustful clear as his gaze riveted to hers.

‘How about next weekend for this date I’m going to persuade you to go on?’

‘I do the rosters quarterly, so I’m tied up every weekend for the next three months. The earliest weekend I’m free is June.’

‘That should give you plenty of time to get used to the idea.’

‘If you convince me, that is,’ she said, giving in to an impulsive, crazy urge to entwine her hands around his neck and drag his head down for a swift, passionate kiss, pulling away before she found herself in bed with him
before
the first date. Though technically that was probably allowed, considering it wouldn’t be the first time for either of them! ‘And believe me, I’m going to be a very hard sell.’

Resting his forehead against hers, he murmured, ‘I think you know how persuasive I can be,’ before stepping away, offering her his hand and gesturing towards the door with the other.

As she slipped her hand into his, Camryn knew whatever he had in store for her, she didn’t stand a chance of refusing.

C
AMRYN
sighed with relief as she sank into the plush suede sofa, curled her legs under her, and propped the giant plastic bowl filled with popcorn on her lap.

It had been too long since she’d had a night off, let alone the freedom to watch a chick-flick, and, what with Blane called out for an emergency meeting, this had been too good an opportunity to pass up.

Not that he hadn’t made her feel welcome or not told her to make herself at home. In fact, he’d gone out of his way to ensure she treated the penthouse as her own for however long she needed to be here.

Not long, if she had any say it.

Quite simply, living with Blane was pure and utter torture. Oh, not in the rooming sense, for he was the perfect housemate: own bathroom, clean kitchen, stocked fridge where he didn’t touch her stuff, toilet seat always thoughtfully down.

Throw in the fact he respected her privacy, didn’t expect her to make small talk in the morning when she was at her grumpiest, and didn’t hound her for leaving a trail of magazines around the place, and he was nigh on perfect in her eyes.

But therein lay the problem.

Blane
was
perfect, from the top of his mussed hair to the bottom of his sexy bare feet as he padded from his bedroom to the kitchen in the middle of the night for a drink of water.

She’d lie awake in bed, listening to his soft footfall against the polished boards, holding her breath as he passed her room, the small, traitorous part of her wishing he’d enter on some flimsy excuse.

Pathetic.

Considering she’d been the one to reinforce the ‘just friends’ mantra when she moved in, it was rather ironic she was having the most difficulty sticking to it.

She’d see him first thing in the morning, his jaw covered in stubble, and want to caress his cheek. She’d smell him fresh out of the shower as he left a fragrant cloud of steam in his wake as she walked past the bathroom door and will herself not to inhale deep lungfuls of the heady stuff.

She’d hear him humming softly to himself as he got dressed and try to blot out the vivid mental image that sprang to mind of what he looked like without clothes.

Shaking her head, she stuffed a handful of popcorn in her mouth and hit Play on the remote. She needed to chill-out with this romantic comedy, have a few laughs, and forget about Blane for two hours.

However, like most of her plans these days, they didn’t run smoothly, and as the opening credits rolled onto the screen, she heard the front door swing open.

‘Hey, there. What are you watching?’

Her heart galloped as he plopped onto the couch beside her, looking wind-tossed and deliciously dishevelled in his rumpled tan T-shirt and faded denim, resident smile in place.

‘Some girly movie Anna recommended to me about three years ago.’

He laughed. ‘Don’t get much time to watch DVDs, huh?’

‘Try never.’

‘Mind if I watch it with you?’

Great. She’d look like a churlish cow if she refused, but what happened to her Blane-free time? Not only would she be forced to sit through one hundred and twenty minutes of having him less than three feet away, she could actually smell him, the faintest waft of cedar instantly transporting her back to a time she shouldn’t be remembering let alone craving.

‘What are you thinking?’

Her gaze flew to his, her breath catching at the tenderness she glimpsed there, and, while it would be smarter to fob him off, she was too caught up in the moment to lie.

‘Remember that old cedar tree?’

His eyes crinkled, his smile warm. ‘The one with the old tyre? Sure. You used to love playing princess, ordering me around like some lowly serf to push you for ages.’

She chuckled at the memory, catapulted back to a time where they had nothing better to do than tease each other, laugh with each other, at total ease, secure in their love.

What she wouldn’t give for a step back in time.

‘There were times you used to order me around, like when we used to walk miles through the National Park on the outskirts of town.’

‘Yeah.’ His eyes twinkled with amusement. ‘Though you made me haul a ten-tonne picnic on my back every time.’

‘That’s because you were always starving.’

The minute the words popped out of her mouth, his eyes darkened to smoky grey, and she knew in an instant he was thinking of other appetites beside food.

‘Speaking of being starving, here, have some popcorn.’

She shoved the bowl towards him, not surprised her hand trembled.

He had that effect on her, always had, and she clamped
her lips together to refrain from saying anything else she might regret.

‘Thanks.’

He tossed a few kernels up in the air, tilted his head back, and caught them as they dropped into his mouth, like he’d always done, and, once again, she was transported back in time, to the weekly movie sessions at the town hall where they’d sat in the back stalls, holding hands so tightly her fingers had tingled, her head resting on his shoulder, snuggling into his warmth.

Those had been good times, amazing times, and for those magical three months he’d held her spellbound, caught up in a whirlwind of passion and laughter and friendship the likes of which she’d never known.

But he’d left, leaving a gaping hole in her life, a soul-deep emptiness which haunted her to this day, and, while she’d accepted his rationale for leaving, it didn’t mean she had a desire to go back there again.

A good, sound decision. If only her body would agree, and sitting this close to him was doing serious damage to her equilibrium.

Faking a yawn, she stretched. ‘Actually, I think I’m pretty beat. I might give the movie a miss.’

He was on to her.

She could see it in the slight narrowing of his eyes, the uncharacteristic downturn of his beautiful mouth.

‘Cam, you can’t go on avoiding me for ever. We live in the same apartment, and I rarely see you.’

Reaching out, he covered her hand with his where it rested on the sofa, and she struggled not to snatch it away.

His touch on top of her wavering hormones was not a good combination, oh, no sirree.

‘What happened to hanging out as friends? Surely we can do that?’

‘Of course,’ she murmured, clamping down on the strongest urge to turn her hand palm up and intertwine her fingers with his. ‘I’ve just been super-busy, that’s all.’

He could have pushed the issue, made her confront the truth, but he was too much of a nice guy, and she knew it.

Giving a gentle tug on her hand, leaving her no option but to lean towards him, he said, ‘So you’re not running scared?’

‘Of what?’

Releasing her hand to slide his palm up her arm in a slow, sensuous caress, he bridged the short distance between them to whisper in her ear, ‘Us.’

One tiny syllable with so many connotations.

Us, as in the giddy, impulsive, head-over-heels-in-love youngsters they’d been? Or us, as in the older, wiser, more mature people they’d become?

It was the latter that scared her the most, for she’d loved Blane, a twenty-one-year-old struggling tradesman with a thirst for adventure, so what hope did she have of not falling for the sexier, more together version?

She didn’t move, savouring the sensation of his breath fanning against her cheek before he pulled away and released her arm, every cell in her body on high alert, crying out for more.

‘Let me guess. You’re going to say there is no us.’

His voice was tinged with amusement rather than rancour, and she found her mouth twitching despite the urge to deny, deny, deny just as he’d anticipated.

Shrugging, she toyed with a stray popcorn kernel that lay in her lap. ‘We’re friends, so that’s an “us” of sorts.’

‘Friends. Right.’

He didn’t believe her. He knew she was a fraud. That with every passing day it was getting harder and harder not to fall under his spell all over again.

Pushing to his feet, he rubbed his hands together as if concocting some grand Machiavellian scheme.

‘Then you won’t object to catching up as
friends
this weekend. After all, it’s your first weekend off in months, and I’ve been very patient and—’

‘Okay, okay, you’ve made your point.’ Grateful he’d put some much-needed distance between their bodies, she tilted her head to look up at him. ‘What did you have in mind?’

Thrusting his hands in his pockets, resulting in an eye-catching display of soft cotton pulled taut across his broad shoulders, he winked.

‘Leave it to me. Whatever I come up with, rest assured, it’ll be mighty friendly.’

Unable to stop a rueful smile spreading across her face, she watched him stride out of the room, wondering what on earth she’d got herself into now.

Blane stared at Cam as she dismounted the jet ski, the expanding tightness in his chest scaring the hell out of him.

He couldn’t be having a heart attack. He’d had his annual physical last month, and the doctor had pronounced him fit and healthy for the average twenty-seven-year-old that had spent the bulk of his life doing manual labour before trading his tools for a desk.

If his ticker was fine, the tension in the vicinity of his heart could only mean one thing. His love for his wife was expanding and growing with each passing day.

He’d never believed in the corny love-at-first-sight thing till he’d walked into that old-fashioned rundown coffee shop in Rainbow Creek, taken one look at the spiky-haired rebel with a cheeky smile and flashing cinnamon-coloured eyes serving behind the counter, and he’d been a goner. Drifting through Victoria from town to town had suited him just fine
until he’d fallen head over heels for the sassy brunette with a smile that could light up a room.

Eloping might have been impulsive, reckless and downright stupid considering their age and how long they’d known each other, but he’d never regretted it, not one single day. The only thing he regretted was walking away from her, despite having her best interests at heart.

But he was through with regrets. This time, he’d give it all he had. Their marriage was worth it.
She
was worth it.

Oblivious to the depth of his feelings, she sent him a jaunty wave while standing in the shallows before leaning forward, twisting her hair into a tight spiral, and squeezing the water out, the sun highlighting the honey streaks in the dark molasses, creating a halo effect as she shook it out and ruffled it dry.

Halo? She was no angel that was for sure, with the constant teasing glances, the flirtatious banter, the subtle touching. Friends, she’d said. Ha! She’d been driving him crazy ever since she’d moved in, stoking his fire till he could barely think straight let alone put the finishing touches on the surprise he had lined up for her.

He’d anticipated she wouldn’t want a bar of him after he’d done a runner six years ago, and he hoped the surprise would go some way to proving how seriously committed he was to reviving their marriage.

While she might be singing the ‘let’s take it one day at a time’ tune, she was warm and spontaneous and fun as always, her actions speaking much louder than her words.

She could call their living arrangements ‘hanging out together’, but from where he stood they were testing the marriage waters and, while his sexy sceptical wife might be dipping her toes, he was ready to dive in the deep end.

Watching her jog across the sand towards him, he silently thanked whoever had invented wetsuits. The material outlined
every gorgeous curve of her body. She’d filled out and then some since he’d first fallen in love with her, and her new figure had him craving his luscious wife more than ever.

Leaping to his feet, and dusting off his butt as she reached him, he thrust his hands into his pockets to stop himself from grabbing her and never letting go.

‘So, how does this rate as a date?’

‘Technically, it isn’t a date. You gave me some lame excuse about your penthouse needing to be fumigated, and I pretended to buy into it. Apparently we had to take refuge in your mate’s holiday house for the weekend or suffer dire consequences from inhaling pesticides. So, really, this isn’t a date, it’s a necessity for my delicate constitution, right?’

He snorted. ‘Delicate? Yeah, as an angle grinder.’

Chuckling, she squeezed the last droplets from the ends of her hair. ‘But just so you know, I’ve never jet-skied before, and it’s awesome.’

Her eyes glittered with pleasure as she fiddled with the zip on her wetsuit, sending his excitement meter off the scale. ‘Glad you liked it.’

Seeing her like this, exuberant and glowing, resurrected the scary tight-chest feeling. Yes, they’d only just met up again. Yes, it was too early to be thinking long-term. But he knew.

Their marriage was alive and kicking.

He trusted his gut instincts, the same instincts that had made him a fortune in the building industry, the same instincts that had catapulted him to the top of the construction world and made him a multi-millionaire ten times over, and right now his gut was telling him she wanted to reunite as much as he did.

Getting reacquainted as friends was the first step, and this amazing woman, standing in the sun like some golden glowing glamazon, would hopefully be right alongside him as they took the rest of the steps towards a long, happy life together.

‘You hungry yet?’

Her stomach growled in response, and she laughed, patting her belly. ‘I guess falling off that thing a hundred times worked up an appetite.’

‘I only counted fifty.’

Dodging the playful slap she aimed his way, he held out his hand. ‘Come on. Let’s head back to the car.’

She didn’t hesitate, slipping her hand into his, and as he curled his fingers around hers he marvelled at how right it still felt after all this time.

Oh, yeah, she might be singing the anti-marriage tune, but this maestro had every intention of conducting them straight into a happily-ever-after concerto.

‘Is there anywhere to change around here?’

He shook his head. ‘Sorry. It’s behind the car door or wait till we get to the house.’