Pregnant by Mr. Wrong

by Rachael Johns

  She raised one eyebrow. “And if your mom sees?”

  “That is a good point.” He sighed as he shut the trunk. “And something we need to discuss. Now we’ve had the scan and the babies look healthy, we should decide how and when to tell the world our news. You’re already starting to show and it won’t be too long before you won’t be able to hide behind baggy clothing.”

  Some of the pleasure that had been on her face dimmed at these words, but she nodded nonetheless. He knew she was scared about what people might think, but he figured it was a bit like ripping off a bandage. The sooner they did it, the sooner they could deal with any fallout.

  “Come on. Let’s go inside out of the cold.”

  “I’m glad our babies will be born late summer,” she said as she followed him up the garden path. “At least I won’t have to get up in the middle of the night in the freezing cold.”

  Something squeezed inside Quinn at the way she referred to herself—as if she’d be the one getting up with the babies and doing all the tough parenting stuff. As if, despite his being there, she didn’t really believe he’d stick it out. Telling their families wasn’t the only thing they needed to work out.

  He unlocked his house and pushed open the front door. “Why don’t you go lie on the couch while I put away these groceries and make us a drink?” he suggested as they stepped inside.

  Bailey groaned. “I’d kill for a coffee, but...” She gestured to her stomach, still hidden by her coat. He swallowed as he remembered the glimpse he’d gotten of bare skin that afternoon.

  “You know,” he said, trying to turn his thoughts from X-rated to PG, “I’ve been reading a bit about pregnancy, and research says that you can have coffee, you should just limit it to one or two cups a day.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded. “How about you treat yourself in celebration of our twin news?”

  She grinned at him as she clutched the photos to her chest. “You’ve twisted my arm.”

  “I can be very convincing when I want to be.”

  Quinn went into the kitchen to unpack the shopping and brew the coffee, and Bailey went to put her feet up. He joined her five minutes later, carrying two steaming mugs, to find her flicking through one of the pregnancy books he’d ordered on the internet. A confirmed bachelor, he didn’t usually invite women back to his place, so it was weird to see her looking so comfortable on his couch. But he didn’t freak or break out in a cold sweat, so that was a start.

  She glanced up. “When you said you’d been doing some reading, you weren’t overexaggerating. You were quick to get these.”

  He merely smiled as he put their drinks down on the coffee table, then he sat down beside her and put his arm around her shoulders. “I like to be well-informed. And books are my friends.”

  “So I see,” she said, looking past the pile of pregnancy books to the shelves beyond that were bursting with literature in many different genres. “I didn’t know you were a big reader.”

  “I wasn’t really at school. Kinda got into it later on. Contrary to popular belief, there’s more to me than good looks and charm.” He leaned forward, picked up a mug and held it out to her.

  “Thanks.” She smiled at him as she wrapped her fingers around it and then closed her eyes and moaned when she took a sip. “Oh. My. God. You don’t know how good that tastes after almost two months of going without.”

  Watching her expression of ecstasy, Quinn thought he had some kind of idea. Or at least he could imagine. He reckoned he might make a similar noise of satisfaction when they finally slept together again. Muscles tightened all over his body and he tried to think of something besides sex, something that would kill the erection now rising in his jeans.

  “When do you think we should tell our families about us? And about the twins?”

  She turned her face to him and screwed up her nose. “Can’t we just run away somewhere?”

  “I’m down with that idea. Why don’t we go to Vegas and elope? Then we could embark on a round-the-world trip and return home in autumn with two kids in tow.” He was only half kidding, but it turned her scowl into a smile.

  She laughed. “If only. My mom would never forgive me. Not only for the elopement, but also for not letting her be there when her first grandchildren are born.” Her smile suddenly faded. “I’m sorry. I just realized how tough this must be for you, about to become a dad without your father around. You must miss him terribly.”

  “Of course.” Quinn tried to keep his expression neutral. He didn’t care that his father wouldn’t meet his children; if anything, he was glad his old man wouldn’t have the chance to lie and pretend to them, as well. “Let me have a look at those photos again.”

  She picked them up and passed them to him “Do you want them to be girls or boys?”

  “I don’t care,” he said, in awe of the black-and-white images in his hands. “As long as they’re healthy.”

  “Neither do I.” She took another sip of her coffee. His mind, still thinking about his dad, despite the fact he’d rather not, came to linger on her biological father. Her mom had been with Bailey’s stepdad for as long as he could remember, and being a guy and not really interested in such stuff, he’d never questioned his mom about Bailey’s real father.

  “Are you going to tell your dad about the twins?” he asked.

  “Well, when we tell Mom and everyone, Reginald will be there.”

  “I meant your biological father. You’ve never said much about him. At least not that I’ve heard. What’s the story there?”

  He felt her tense beside him. “He married Mom because they were young and pregnant, with me—their families expected them to do the right thing—but my dad wasn’t the settling-down type. He broke up with Mom before I was born, then was in and out of my life for about ten years. When Mom met Reginald, I think he was relieved, like it let him off the hook or something. He friended me on Facebook a few years back, but we’re not really in contact aside from that. Reginald is my father in all the ways that matter.”

  It sounded like a rehearsed speech, as if she didn’t really care, but Quinn could read between the lines. He could read her body language. Suddenly her reticence to tell him about their baby made even more sense. Her father’s apathetic behavior had hurt her badly, and because of this, she feared that maybe Quinn would be like her deadbeat dad.

  Like hell he would.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “What for? You’re not my father.”

  He chuckled at that. “Thank God. Then this would be very, very wrong.” He leaned over and put the photos down on the table, then he turned back and took hold of her hand. “I meant, I’m sorry for taking advantage of you when you were upset about Callum. When you came to me, confused and hurt, I should have listened, but instead I—”

  “Instead you distracted me and then made me even more confused.” Her hand moved, taking his with it to rest on her tiny bump. “But I’m not sorry. I can’t be sorry for this.”

  Although her jumper stopped him touching her bare belly, this felt as intimate as they’d been since that day in the warehouse. As their eyes met and he breathed in the berry scent that wafted from her hair, Quinn prayed for self-control. He’d promised Bailey they’d take things slowly, but right now—alone in his house, squished together on his couch—his body hated him for taking that vow. He swallowed, wanting to kiss her but unable to trust himself not to take the next logical step.

  Then, while he was deliberating and beating himself up, Bailey leaned closer and kissed him.

  She wasn’t gentle, she wasn’t reserved. She grabbed on to his shirt, scrunched the material up in her hands and yanked him close. As her tongue slid into his mouth with a ferocity that matched the hunger raging inside of him, she climbed onto his lap so she was straddling him on the couch. The V of her thi
ghs pressed against him; there was no hiding his desire now.

  The voice inside his head warning him to take things slow struggled to be heard as Bailey slid her hands into his hair. Her breasts—definitely larger than normal now—pressed against his chest and his hands itched to hold them. Instead, he cupped her face and broke their kiss, searching her eyes. “Are you sure about this?”

  “Shut up and undress me.”

  He wasn’t stupid. When a pregnant woman made demands, any guy worth half his salt would give her what she wanted. Feeling like a teen whose first girlfriend had just told him to pop her cherry, he yanked her top up and over her head. Her breasts, practically bursting from a lacy pink bra, bobbed in his line of sight and he worked quick to rid her of that garment, as well.

  A guttural moan escaped his mouth as he paused to admire the view. Two of the most delicious breasts in the history of humankind, his to taste, tease and admire. It felt like all his Christmases had come at once.

  Bailey laughed. “You’re allowed to touch them, you know.” Then she took hold of his hands with hers and placed them atop her breasts. His jeans shrank three sizes.

  “God!” was all he could manage to say, and then instinct took over.

  Chapter Seven

  “Wake up, sleeping beauty.”

  At the sound of Quinn’s voice, Bailey opened her eyes. It took a few moments for her to orientate herself, and when she did, when she remembered, her lips broke into a smile.

  She was naked, thoroughly satiated, in his bed. They were having twins and she’d just had the best sex of her life. He was shirtless, too—thank God for central heating—and sitting on the edge of the bed holding a tray of something that smelled divine. She waited for the usual wave of nausea that hit whenever she smelled pretty much any food these days, but it didn’t come. Or maybe they’d just worked up so much of an appetite that the morning sickness had taken a backseat.

  “That smells amazing,” she said, slowly sitting up and pulling the covers with her. Although he’d seen her without a scrap of clothing and done things to her she’d only ever read about in erotic romances, she wasn’t ready to have a normal conversation while naked. “How long have I been asleep?”

  “A few hours.” He grinned. “But it gave me time to whip up something nutritious. You hungry?”

  “Famished.” She stared down at what looked to be a bowl of creamy pasta and tried not to drool.

  “Do you need to use the bathroom before we eat?” he asked.

  Now that she thought about it, she did need to pee—since getting pregnant, she pretty much needed to pee all the time. When she nodded, he put the tray on the bedside table and then grabbed an old T-shirt that was hanging over the end of the bed and offered it to her.

  “Thanks.” She smiled as she took it and slipped it over her head. The material was soft against her bare skin, but best of all, it smelled of him. She pulled back the covers, climbed out of bed and headed into his bathroom. After relieving herself, she washed her hands and then saw a bottle of his cologne. Unable to resist a quick sniff, she unscrewed the lid and inhaled. The tantalizing aroma, a cocktail of something woodsy mixed with vanilla made her head spin. Vanilla had always been her favorite scent—as a child, whenever her mom baked with it, Bailey had loved holding the bottle under her nose—but the smell of Quinn had just leaped to first place.

  Feeling more content than she had in a very long while, she put the bottle back in its place and returned to the bedroom.

  He wolf whistled as she emerged. “I could get used to the sight of you barefoot and wearing nothing but my shirts.”

  The heat in his gaze made her feel like the sexiest woman on the planet and she smiled as she crawled back into bed beside him. “And if this food tastes as good as it smells, then I could get used to your cooking.”

  In reply, he dug a fork into the bowl of fettuccine, twirled it round and then lifted it to her lips. She opened her mouth and every nerve ending in her body tingled as he slid the fork inside. Her eyes closed of their own accord and her taste buds sighed with contentment as she chewed and swallowed the first mouthful.

  “Well?” he asked when she opened her eyes again.

  “Give me more.”

  Quinn laughed and obliged. They ate from the same bowl, talking and stealing the odd kiss along the way.

  “Did we make any decisions regarding the announcement of our news?” Bailey asked, the day a little bit of a blur since their twins discovery.

  “Nope. You kind of distracted me.”

  A warmth flushed over her skin at the smile behind his words. “Sorry about that,” she said, not feeling or managing to sound apologetic in the slightest.

  “Yeah. Sure you are. Fancy taking advantage of me like that.” He shook his head as he slipped another forkful into her mouth.

  When the bowl was scraped clean, Quinn took it back into the kitchen, then returned to the bed and climbed in beside her. He pulled her close against him, and as she sipped the ginger ale he’d bought for her, they talked some more.

  “This is going to sound stupid, since I grew up at the distillery almost as much as you did, but although I know you work in the warehouse, I’m not sure exactly what your role is.” She hoped he didn’t take offense, but she wanted to get to know him better.

  “I guess I’m a jack-of-all-trades, master of none.” Although he made a joke of it, she detected a hint of hurt in his voice. “Like you said, I grew up with the distillery in my blood. I’m very proud of my heritage, but as the youngest, aside from the twins, everyone had already taken the important jobs by the time I finished school. Callum has always had a head for business, more than our father, it seems, and Blair did his time alongside Dad, learning the craft of distilling. There wasn’t room for me, as well.

  “I guess I should have gone off and done something else, like Mac, Lachlan and the girls did, but I started helping out in the warehouse after finishing school and I never left. In addition to keeping track of all our stock and overseeing the delivery of orders to all our various clients, I help Blair with the bottling, and occasionally Callum even lets me out to try to woo new clients.”

  “He never mentioned that.”

  Quinn snorted. “He wouldn’t have. He likes to take all the credit. He’s a lot like our father in that respect.”

  “There’s always been a kind of rivalry between you two, hasn’t there?”

  “Who? Me and Dad?”

  “No.” She chuckled. “You and Callum.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe it’s because I always wanted what he had. Anyway, let’s not talk about him or business. We’ve got so many better things to focus on.”

  Bailey couldn’t argue with that. She leaned into him and rested her head against his shoulder as they resumed their earlier conversation about names. Choosing one had seemed daunting, but now they needed two.

  “Do you want to follow your family’s tradition of Scottish names?”

  “I never really thought about it, but Quinn is the least Scottish sounding to me and Bailey is quite modern. Both our names could be male or female, so maybe we should go in that direction for the twins’ names. I think unisex names are kinda cool and can be used whether we have boys or girls.”

  “You mean like Avery and Jesse? Morgan and Jules?”

  He nodded. “Yes, exactly. And I like those ones. They’re going on the list.”

  If it had felt surreal being in the ultrasound clinic with Quinn, it felt even more surreal snuggling in his bed and chatting about an entwined future. Surreal, but also natural, blissful and right. As if, after a long journey down the wrong road, fate had finally nudged her in the right direction. And now that she’d arrived, she was so comfortable, she never wanted to leave this bed.

  But as their names list grew longer and more and more outrageous, the
minutes ticked into hours and it started to get late. That postcoital nap had given Bailey a second wind, but she couldn’t ignore the exhaustion creeping up on her again. As much as she hated to do so, she started to get up.

  Quinn’s arms tightened around her. “Where do you think you’re going, young lady?”

  She smiled at his playful tone. “It’s late. I should be getting home.”

  “Stay.” That one word sounded more intoxicating than any of the sweet nothings he’d whispered in the throes of passion.

  While a tiny voice inside her head reminded her of the sensible decision she’d made to take things slow, there were a hundred other voices telling her to relax back into his arms. That afternoon she’d slept better in his bed than she had in the last two months; the prospect of a good night’s slumber and the possibility of morning wake-up sex won out.

  “Okay,” she replied as she relished the warmth of his naked skin against her. “You twisted my arm. Again.”

  * * *

  “I knew something was going on!”

  Quinn woke up on Saturday morning to Bailey in his arms, light sneaking in through a gap in his curtains and his mother standing at the end of his bed, her fists perched on her hips as she glared down at them. As if things couldn’t get any worse, Marcia, Bailey’s mom, stood beside her, also a vision of feminine fury.

  “Oh, my God!” Bailey shrieked, leaping away from him and pulling the covers over her.

  “What the hell are you two doing in here?” Quinn demanded, sitting up and trying to shield Bailey from their view.

  “I used the spare key to get in,” Nora said, her chin jutting upward as if she had nothing to be ashamed about. She looked to her friend and then back to the bed. “We had our suspicions about you two, and then when I went for an early-morning walk this morning, I saw Bailey’s car and—”

  It was on the tip of Quinn’s tongue to ask her who in their right mind goes walking early in the middle of winter. But this was his mom they were talking about and there were other more pressing issues. Like getting the two meddling women out of his bedroom. He pointed to his open door. “And now you can get out again!”