From Paradise...to Pregnant!

by Kandy Shepherd

  Mitch got up too, and took the menu from her. ‘No. I’ll order. They can bill the meal to my room.’

  She went to snatch it back. ‘It can be billed to my room.’

  He held on firmly to the menu. When she tried to take it he held it above his head. ‘In the rarefied space where I dwell, I pay for dinner.’

  * * *

  Zoe bristled at his comment. She liked to be independent. ‘Please at least let me pay for my own meal,’ she said.

  ‘No,’ he said, in a firm, forceful way that brooked no argument.

  It was a gracious gesture on his part, and it would be crass of her to argue. ‘Okay. Thank you. I’ll—’

  She was going to say she’d pay next time, but of course it was highly unlikely she’d be having dinner again with Mitch Bailey. Further earthquakes or not.

  Mitch headed to the phone to order the meal. His back view was breathtaking: broad shoulders tapered to a swoon-worthy butt, then long, strong legs. No wonder his fans went crazy over him. Lost in admiration, she felt a tad light-headed herself.

  She observed the way he walked, with the confident easy strength of a man at the peak of physical perfection. There wasn’t the slightest indication that he favoured his right knee in his athletic stride. She prayed the knee was now strong enough to help him soar right back to the heights of the success he craved.

  ‘You were right—the meal will be around an hour,’ he said when he returned.

  ‘Lucky we ordered when we did, then.’

  Mitch didn’t sit back down on the lounger. ‘It’s hot. How about cooling down in your pool?’

  It was hot—and humid—and suddenly Zoe wanted more than anything to dive into the water. Perspiration prickled on her brow and her dress clung stickily to her back. But the pool wasn’t very large. It seemed too intimate to be sharing it with him. Maybe she’d spent too long admiring his rear view. Then again, sitting outside was starting to get uncomfortable—despite the shade of the frangipani tree.

  Mitch didn’t hesitate. He strode to the edge of the pool and dived in with an arrow-perfect dive and barely a splash.

  He swam the length of the pool underwater, his tanned, perfect body spearing through the turquoise depths. When he emerged his hair sat sleek and dark against his head, and his broad shoulders and chest glistened with drops of water caught in the late-afternoon sun. Zoe caught her breath at how handsome he looked.

  ‘Come on in!’ he called with the engaging grin that had appealed to her so much all those years ago.

  Still she hesitated. Usually she wouldn’t think twice about slipping off her dress and diving in. But the very act of taking off her dress in front of Mitch paralysed her. It seemed like... Well, it seemed like a striptease—as if she were displaying her body for his delectation. But it would seem ridiculous to go inside when she already had her bikini on underneath.

  She compromised and turned away, angling her body for minimum exposure to Mitch. Then slid her dress up and over her head, tossing it onto the lounger.

  She was aware of Mitch’s gaze on her. Of the admiration in his eyes. It disconcerted her. She wasn’t afraid to be seen in a bikini. She worked hard to stay slim and strong. And her fashionable bikini was quite modestly cut, in a retro style reminiscent of a swimsuit from the nineteen-fifties.

  But she was suddenly aware of how its very design drew attention to her breasts, her hips. In the past Mitch had seen her as a nerd, a geek. She doubted he’d even noticed she was female. Not with tall, curvy Lara always in tow, staking her claim on Mitch at any opportunity. Not that she’d needed to—Mitch had only had eyes for his blonde girlfriend.

  But now... Now Mitch had noticed she was female. It was in his narrowed eyes, in the way his head was tilted to the side as he watched her.

  And she liked it.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ZOE LIKED THE way Mitch didn’t hide his appreciation of the woman she’d become. She liked the easy way she could talk with him. She liked having him back in her life, even if only for these few hours. No way would she let that be ruined by feeling awkward or self-conscious. That kind of negativity had been left far behind her, in the corridors of Northside High.

  He was the most beautiful man she was ever likely to meet—and not just in appearance. Scratch the surface of the mega sports star, the billboard model, the oestrogen magnet who had female hearts in a flurry all around the world, and the Mitch she’d liked so much when she was seventeen was still there. Even more confident and self-assured, but still Mitch.

  Thanks to a random shifting of the tectonic plates beneath the earth’s crust she’d been gifted this time before they each went back to their lives on opposite sides of the world.

  She took a few swift steps to the edge of the water and waded in. Although a more than competent swimmer, she didn’t want to risk an embarrassing belly flop in front of one of the world’s elite athletes.

  Zoe gasped and squealed at the initial coolness of the water, then welcomed it. With slow, easy strokes she swam from one end of the pool to the other. On her return lap she found herself very close to Mitch—so close their bodies actually nudged in the water: thigh against thigh, hip against hip. His body was strong, hard, muscular.

  A shiver of pleasure ran through her at the contact. Had he noticed? Hastily she pushed away through the water to swim another lap.

  He must be so used to women fawning all over him. That would not be her. She was determined to seem friendly, but not too friendly. No groupie-like grasping for attention from Mr Sexiest Man Alive for her. Much as she might yearn for it.

  Her laps completed, she stood facing him in the shallow end of the pool, the water up to her waist

  ‘That was a good idea. So refreshing.’

  ‘It’s not a huge pool, but it works,’ he said.

  No doubt he was staying in one of the larger, more luxurious villas the size of a house at the other end of the resort.

  ‘This pool’s only meant for two,’ she said, breathless more from her proximity to him than from the vigour of her swimming. ‘These villas are popular with honeymooners, I believe.’

  She was suddenly heart-stoppingly aware of the utter privacy afforded by the high wall and the tropical trees and shrubs that grew above it, the solid, ornately carved wooden gate. A couple could frolic without a stitch on in this pool and no one would know.

  ‘I booked in to this place because I wanted privacy,’ Mitch said. He looked down to the bare third finger of her left hand. ‘Why are you here on your own?’

  ‘Because I want to be,’ she said, careful to keep her voice matter-of-fact. ‘May is a good time to take a break before all the end-of-financial-year mayhem in the final weeks of June.’

  No need to mention that she’d needed to get away on her own to escape the fallout of a relationship break-up.

  ‘That wasn’t what I meant,’ Mitch said with a slow grin. ‘I wanted to know if there was a man in your life.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said. It was a reasonable question but she felt flustered by it. As if he’d been reading her mind. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Not...not any more.’

  ‘That surprises me,’ he said.

  She was aware of his appreciative gaze taking in the swell of her breasts over the top of her bikini bra, her bare shoulders and arms. She sucked in her stomach.

  ‘There was someone. But...but I broke up with him a month ago.’

  ‘Were you meant to come here with him?’ He gestured around him. ‘To this “couples’ paradise”?’

  ‘We were talking about Thailand. This was a last-minute booking.’

  He nodded. ‘Yeah, you said.’ Mitch’s green eyes narrowed. ‘So you came to Bali to nurse a broken heart?’

  ‘No.’ She sighed, looked down at the water where it rippled around them. ‘More likely I...I broke his heart.’

  ‘I didn’t take you for the heartbreaker type,’ Mitch said.

  Zoe slowly shook her head. ‘I didn’t think I was the heartbreaker type eithe
r. I’ve had my share of dating hurt, but it’s not pleasant to be the one dishing it out. I’m not proud of it. He was a wonderful guy.’

  ‘But not wonderful enough to go on vacation with?’

  She met his gaze. ‘Not wonderful enough to marry. We were talking about taking a vacation together. Then he turned it around to talk of a honeymoon.’

  ‘And you ran scared?’ Mitch said.

  ‘I don’t know about being scared. I just didn’t feel the same way he did.’

  She was beginning to wonder if there was something wrong with her that at the age of twenty-seven she still didn’t want to commit to a man. This recent proposal was the second one she’d turned down. But she wasn’t going to share that with Mitch.

  ‘You’re not interested in marriage?’ he asked.

  ‘Of course I am. One day. And I’d like to have a family. But not now. Not to him—nice as he was. I didn’t feel strongly enough to make that kind of commitment.’

  The conversation was taking on a more personal slant than she cared for. But the shock of the earthquake, the surprise of seeing Mitch again, had loosened her inhibitions about talking about her love-life—or lack of it.

  ‘Fair enough,’ he said.

  ‘I won’t compromise. When I get married it will be because I’m head over heels in love and know it will last for ever.’

  His brow raised. ‘Okay...’

  She laughed. ‘You’re looking at me as if you can’t believe I said that.’

  ‘I was surprised,’ he admitted. ‘I took you more for the practical, pragmatic type.’

  ‘Because I’m an accountant with a business degree?’

  ‘Who knew that underneath the number-crunching and the bean-counting there beats the heart of a romantic?’

  Zoe tried not to sound defensive. ‘Maybe it is ridiculously romantic of me, but I want the kind of love my parents had. They adored each other. I won’t settle for less.’

  ‘Admirable,’ he said.

  ‘But over-idealistic?’

  ‘I didn’t say that.’

  ‘Just raised your eyebrows and let me think it?’

  He grinned. ‘I didn’t realise my eyebrows were so expressive.

  ‘You’d be surprised what your eyebrows reveal about you,’ she said.

  Mitch waggled his eyebrows. ‘What are my eyebrows saying now?’

  Zoe paused to think up a sassy reply—only to be hit by a splash of expertly aimed pool water.

  ‘Hey!’ she spluttered, wiping water from her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘What was that for?’

  His eyes crinkled in amusement. ‘You didn’t read my eyebrows quickly enough, did you? They were challenging you to a water fight.’

  ‘Challenge accepted,’ she said without further hesitation. ‘This is war.’

  Laughing, she angled around him, shooting sprays of water with the edge of her hand as she struck the surface. Laughing too, he retaliated faster, harder, until the spray was constant between them. Defence became attack; attack became defence.

  As Mitch pulled his arm way back, for a powerful splash she couldn’t hope to deflect, Zoe ducked and swam underwater to the other end of the pool before resurfacing.

  ‘Hah! Retreating from the battlefield,’ said Mitch.

  ‘A tactical move to regroup my energies,’ Zoe said breathless, laughing, pushing back her wet hair from her eyes.

  Mitch raised his hands above his head. ‘I surrender,’ he said, with that big, endearing grin that had made him the darling of the women’s magazines.

  It wouldn’t take much for her to surrender to him.

  With just a few strokes of his strong, sinewy arms he had reached her. He wasn’t the slightest bit out of breath.

  ‘Why don’t I trust that surrender one little bit?’ she said, moving back in the water so she could feel the edge of the pool at her spine.

  ‘Because I learned the game fighting dirty with my three brothers in our backyard pool,’ he said, stopping just a pace from her.

  ‘Let’s call it a draw, then, shall we?’ she said. Her heart was pounding—not from exertion, but from his closeness: the muscled breadth of his chest, the washboard abs.

  The utter male perfection of him.

  ‘I’m a competitive guy. I don’t give in too easily.’

  She didn’t know whether the towering conquest in his stance was real or part of the game. Her heartbeat skipped up a further gear.

  She met his gaze for a long moment before replying. ‘I’m a diplomatic woman. I’m thinking of ways we can end this peacefully.’

  Oh, she could think of several ways that she’d never dare put voice to.

  He laughed. ‘Seriously? How can I argue against that? I really am conceding.’

  ‘Can I trust you?’ she asked playfully.

  He held out his hands, palms up in supplication. ‘You can trust me, Zoe,’ he said.

  Other words unspoken hung in the air. Trust had been an issue in their brief, shared past. But he had redeemed himself by apologising for the incident that had ended their youthful friendship.

  This was just a game.

  The silence was broken by the loud crowing of a rooster coming from a few buildings away.

  ‘The final word comes from Mr Rooster,’ Zoe said.

  Mitch scowled. ‘Darn bird. He crows morning, noon and night.’

  ‘He must have quite the harem of hens to keep happy.’

  ‘It’s not a sound I hear in the heart of old Madrid.’

  ‘Or me in Balmain, in inner Sydney.’

  ‘You live in Balmain?’

  She nodded. ‘In a converted warehouse on the waterfront, overlooking Mort Bay.’

  ‘I played the Balmain Tigers in junior club. They were a good team. Beat ’em, of course.’

  ‘You really are competitive, aren’t you?’

  ‘Only winners are grinners,’ he said, and although he was smiling his words rang true. ‘In my game you can’t afford to be anything else.’

  ‘An attacking midfielder. That’s what I’ve seen you described as. It sounds aggressive.’

  Zoe had seen him play on screen: swift, superbly balanced, relentless and graceful all at the same time. No other player had caught her attention. She’d thrilled at the TV commentator’s praise for Mitch. While she didn’t know a lot about soccer, she’d got what the commentator had meant when he’d said Mitch had the vision to split a defence with unerringly accurate passes perfectly weighted to gift his teammates with scoring opportunities. No wonder his team wanted him back.

  His jaw set. ‘You have to be aggressive to win, Zoe. Tactical and ruthless.’

  ‘And you’re all about winning?’

  ‘The game is everything.’ He emphasised the word so there was no missing his message.

  ‘And in your personal life?’

  ‘What personal life?’ he joked, but his eyes were shadowed and serious.

  He had quizzed her about her love-life; she had a few questions of her own.

  ‘You were with Lara for a long time,’ she said.

  Again, she didn’t want him to think she’d been stalking him. But Mitch’s hometown girlfriend had attracted lots of media attention—both in Australia and overseas. Lara had only got blonder and more glamorous as she’d grown up. The golden couple had been all over the media, and Lara had become the queen bee of the contingent of footballers’ wives and girlfriends the media nicknamed WAGs.

  ‘We had our ups and downs,’ Mitch muttered.

  Zoe wouldn’t have been human if she hadn’t felt a small degree of satisfaction when she’d seen Mitch had finally split with Lara. Much as she’d put that incident at school behind her, Lara’s maliciousness had been impossible to forget. She’d been the meanest of the mean girls. Mitch deserved better.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, willing her voice to sound sincere.

  Mitch shrugged and water slicked off his broad shoulders. ‘Don’t be. We broke up and got back together so many times. It was nev
er going to work.’

  From his carefully schooled expression and even tone of voice Zoe sensed there was more to it than Mitch was saying. That was okay. It was none of her business.

  ‘No one special since?’ She thought of the parade of Lara look-alikes who’d featured briefly on Mitch’s arm.

  He turned to scoop up a palm frond that had fallen into the water and tossed it out onto the courtyard, his back rippling with sculpted muscle. ‘I don’t have time for someone special. Date someone more than a few times and they start thinking it’s more than a casual thing.’

  Who could blame the poor girls for wanting more with a man like Mitch?

  ‘You must get women flinging themselves at you all the time.’ But what a way to get your heart broken.

  He shifted and looked uncomfortable. ‘Football groupies and over-eager fans come with the territory,’ he said. ‘What’s more difficult is meeting genuine women not blinded by money and fame.’

  ‘I can see that, but—’

  He cut across her. ‘But that’s irrelevant right now. My personal life is on hold. Indefinitely. I’ve got something to prove. There’s no room in my life for relationships. Not now. Not for years.’

  ‘You’re focusing on success and nothing is going to distract you?’

  ‘That’s exactly right,’ he said. ‘I’m glad you understand. Women usually think they can change my mind.’

  ‘The hopes of all those fans shattered!’ she said with mock mournfulness.

  ‘And you breaking hearts all the way, let me remind you.’

  ‘If you put it like that...’

  ‘Putting it like that makes us both single,’ he said, his deep voice a tone deeper.

  ‘Yes,’ she murmured through a suddenly choked throat.

  For a long, still moment their eyes held. The intensity of his gaze reminded her of Mitch as a student, determined to understand the subject she was helping him to master. Back then he’d been reading a page in a poetry book; right now it felt as if he was reading her face as his gaze searched her eyes, her mouth.

  In turn she explored his face. His chiselled face. His strong jaw. The knowing glint in his green eyes framed by those too-expressive eyebrows. And his mouth, lifted to a half-smile that gave a promise of pleasure that made her own lips part in anticipation, her breath quicken.