And Bree had picked up the slack in that department like a champ. In fact, the other night he’d even heard her yell, “Because I said so!” up the stairs.
He was so proud of her he could pop.
And, yeah, he told her that. Every chance he got.
Both his wife and father-in-law turned as Cole swung open the French door, Bree’s smile socking him right in the gut, as always. “I’ll leave you two alone, then,” Preston said, giving his daughter a quick kiss on her forehead before returning inside. But not before lightly punching Cole in his upper arm...and winking.
“Congratulations, Dad!”
Grinning, Cole took the older man’s place to wrap his arms around Bree from behind and rest his chin in her curls. A light breeze whispered through the maple’s thick leaves, a sweet top note to the gurgling fountain they’d put in earlier in the summer. Man, he loved this house.
His life.
This woman.
He slid one palm over her belly, slightly curved underneath her simple white dress. “So you told him?”
“I did. He’s thrilled.” Her soft laugh vibrated through him. “Almost as much as I am.”
Her doctor had told her not to expect to get pregnant right away at her age. If she even would. Then again, she didn’t know Sabrina Noble. Correction: Sabrina Noble Rayburn.
His meant-to-be wife.
The mother his children were meant to have.
He didn’t have to ask her if she was happy, because he knew. Saw it, in her smile whenever she looked at him. Heard it, in her laughter when she was with the kids—who were every bit as excited about the baby as its parents.
“I love you, crazy woman,” he murmured in her ear, making her shudder. And laugh.
“I love you, too,” she whispered back, then turned in his arms to link her own around his neck, and he saw in her eyes a promise of forever.
A promise he captured with a kiss...as Wes yelled out the door, “Jeez, you guys—get a room!”
Chuckling, he met her sparkling gaze, brushing a wayward strand of hair off her temple. “A pair of teenagers and a newborn under the same roof? Are we insane?”
“Like you have to ask?” she said, then snuggled closer. And sighed.
And if he listened closely, he could hear the past whispering its blessings on their future...
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from THE CEO'S BABY SURPRISE by Helen Lacey.
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Prologue
Mary-Jayne Preston yawned, opened her eyes and blinked a few times. The ceiling spun fractionally, and she drew in a soft breath.
I’m not hungover.
She closed her eyes again. The two glasses of champagne she’d drunk the night before weren’t responsible for the way she felt. This was something else. An unusual lethargy crept into her limbs and spread across her skin. Her lids fluttered, and she glimpsed a sliver of light from between heavy drapes.
An unfamiliar room.
Her memory kicked in. The Sandwhisper Resort. Port Douglas.
But this isn’t my bedroom.
This was a villa suite. And a top-end one, judging by the plush feel of the giant king-size bed and lavish damask drapes. Extravagance personified. Her eyelids drooped before opening again as she stretched her spine—and then nearly jumped out of her skin when she realized she wasn’t alone in the big bed.
A man lay beside her. She twisted her head and saw a long, perfectly proportioned back. Smooth skin, like the sheerest satin stretched over pressed steel, broad shoulders, strong arms and dark hair. He lay on his stomach, one arm flung above his head, the other curved by his side. And he was asleep. The soft rhythm of his breathing was oddly hypnotic, and she stared at him, suddenly mesmerized by his bronzed skin and lean, muscular frame.
And then, in stunning Technicolor, it came rushing back.
The party.
The kiss.
The one-night stand.
Her first. Her last.
She needed to get up. To think. She shimmied sideways but quickly stopped moving when he stirred. She wasn’t quite ready for any kind of face-to-face, morning-after awkwardness. Not with him. She took a deep breath and tried again, inching her hips across the cool sheet so slowly it was agonizing. Finally one leg found the edge of the mattress and she pushed the cover back. He moved again and she stilled instantly. He made a sound, half groan, half moan, and flipped around, the sheet draping haphazardly over his hips as he came to face her.
But still asleep.
Mary-Jayne’s breath shuddered out as she caught sight of his profile. He was ridiculously handsome. No wonder she’d lost her head. The straight nose, chiseled cheeks and square jaw was a riveting combination. And she quickly recalled those silver-gray eyes of his...just too sexy for words. As her gaze traveled lower her fingertips tingled. His body was incredibly well cut, and she fought the urge to touch him just one more time. She spotted a faint mark on his shoulder. Like a love bite.
Did I do that?
Heat surged through her blood when she remembered what they’d done the night before, and again in the small hours of the morning. No sweet wonder her muscles ached and her skin seemed ultrasensitive. She’d never had a night like it before, never felt such intense desire or experienced such acute and mindboggling pleasure.
It was like a dream. A fantasy.
And she needed to wake up from this particular dream. Quickly.
She managed to ease off the bed and quickly looked around for her clothes. Her underwear was by the bed, and she snatched it up with guilty fingers and then quickly dressed into the thong and bra. The shoes were easily spotted—one was by the window, the other under a chair in the corner of the room. But the black dress was nowhere to be seen. The smooth fabric had clung to her curves, and the man in the bed had told her how beautiful and desirable she’d looked. No one had ever said those words quite that way to her before. She found her purse on the chair and continued looking for the dress, keeping a mindful eye on him.
Please don’t wake up...
He didn’t, thankfully, and a few moments later she found the dress, scrunched in a ball and hidden beneath the quilt that had fallen to the foot of the bed. She stepped into it and slipped it up and over her hips, settling her arms through the bodice before she twisted herself into a pretzel to do up the zipper. Breathless, she cast another look toward the sleeping man.
I’m such a fool...
For weeks she’d stayed resolute, determined to avoid crashing into bed with him. But the moment he’d touched her, the moment he’d made his move she’d melted like an ice cube in hell.
Mary-Jayne pushed her feet into her patent pumps, grabbed her purse and ran.
Copyright © 2015 by Helen Lacey
ISBN-13: 9781460379523
Meant-to-Be Mom
Copyright © 2015 by Karen Templeton-Berger
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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Meant-to-Be Mom Page 21
