by Nicola Marsh
‘Come on. I really have to say some stuff before I burst.’
Wariness flickered in his eyes, and he grabbed her hand as if fearing she’d flee.
‘I’m not going anywhere.’ She squeezed his hand as she slid onto the nearest bar stool and patted the one beside her.
‘Does that mean now or ever?’
‘That depends on you.’
To her surprise he released her hand, propping against the bar rather than taking a seat, his serious expression sending her nerves into overdrive.
‘You know how I feel, but I’m not going to push you anymore. You’ve had your time away. You’ve done what you had to do. And I’m still here. But this is it, Cam. I love you, but I’m not going to spend my life waiting around for someone who doesn’t love me enough in return. So why don’t you tell me what you’re thinking?’
Fair enough, but where did she start? She wasn’t prepared for this. In Europe, she’d mentally rehearsed this exact scenario a million times, yet, now that her little problem with a faulty alarm had turned into a golden opportunity with the man she loved, she was lost for words!
Reaching up to tug on her plait, she came up empty, and that was when it hit her. She’d start with the hair, and the rest would follow.
‘I had a hair cut in Rome. Exactly twenty minutes after I had an epiphany.’
He didn’t say a word, and his raised eyebrow conveyed scepticism rather than interest in what she had to say.
‘I was sitting in a piazza, having coffee, knowing it was all wrong without you there. The whole trip was wrong without you to share it with.’
He frowned, confusion clouding his handsome face. ‘But I thought that’s what you wanted?’
‘I did. At least, I thought I did. I was so caught up in returning the favour you did me that I lost sight of one salient fact. Your dream is my dream, too.’
‘So what are you saying? You want to try and have a baby?’
Her mouth twitched. ‘Actually, it’s too late for that.’
Silence. A long, drawn-out, tension-filled silence broken by the slight hum of the cake fridge and the sharp crack of ice from the freezer.
Okay, so she’d kind of rushed the most important part of her speech, but now it was out there she needed reassurance. Heck, she needed him to bundle her back into his arms and say it was the best news he’d ever had, and that they’d spend the rest of their lives together.
‘Are you saying—’
‘I’m pregnant!’
His grey eyes widened with shock as he ran a hand over his smooth jaw, an almost comical look on his face when he distractedly realised he’d shaved rather than sporting the stubble she adored.
‘Pregnant? But…but…’
‘Pretty amazing, huh?’
He didn’t move. Not a muscle, not a twinge, and fear rocketed through her that she’d pushed him away so far there was no coming back.
‘I don’t believe it.’
He opened and closed his mouth several times, doing a fair goldfish impression, before a slow smile spread across his face. ‘We’re going to have a baby.’
‘We sure are.’
She hopped off the bar stool and stood there, shuffling from one foot to another, impatient for him to sweep her into his arms and tell her this was the start of the happily ever after he’d always wanted.
Instead, he just stood there, his goofy grin fading, replaced by a wary glint in his eyes.
‘This is why you came back. Not because you want me or this marriage so badly you can taste it, but out of obligation.’
‘No!’
Bunching his T-shirt in her fists, she shook him, willing him to believe her when she hadn’t done much to inspire it lately.
‘I came back for you, only you. It’s always been you. The baby is a bonus, an amazing, precious miracle, but I’d already made up my mind to come back before I discovered I was pregnant.’
She relaxed her hands, splaying her palms against his chest, feeling the rock-steady beat of his heart, never surer that she wanted to feel it for the rest of her life.
‘I love you, Blane. No more trips. No more putting your dreams ahead of mine. This time it’s going to be our dreams all the way. That’s what I want. What about you?’
After an eternity, his expression softened and he covered her hands with his, gently prying them loose before intertwining his fingers with one of them.
‘Come on. I’ll show you what I want.’
Taut with tension, her nerves strung tighter than Cupid’s bow, she fell into step beside him, somewhat reassured by the fact he was holding her hand while terrified he hadn’t actually spelled out what he wanted yet.
‘Where are you taking…’
The rest of her question died on her lips as he led her around the corner into the private lounge area of the café and she caught sight of her favourite part of the Niche decked out in countless tea-lights casting dancing shadows against the mauve walls.
‘How did you do this?’
‘Anna.’
He led her forward, and she gasped as she caught sight of her favourite pink champagne truffles, imported from an exquisite chocolatier in the UK, laid out on a silver platter, next to a matching silver bucket with a bottle of chilled Dom Perignon champagne waiting to be opened. Brushing a kiss against her lips, he hit the play button on the sound system remote, and the crooning sounds of ‘Fly Me to the Moon’ filled the air, her starry-eyed gaze locking with his, her heart expanding with love.
‘Why did you do this?’
Drawing her down onto a sofa, he reached behind a bolster cushion and handed her a small square box. Her heart stuttered, her pulse pounded, and her brain refused to compute the implications of what could be inside such a delicate, tiny box.
‘I think you’ll find your explanation in there.’
Raising wide eyes to his, she fumbled the box, catching it before it landed in the truffles, all thumbs when it came to untying the thin silver ribbon and flipping open the top. Her breath caught as she nudged the top open and peered inside, disappointment ricocheting through her as she poked the silver key chain with a miniature coffee cup dangling from it, the heady premature elation of a moment ago dissipating in an instant.
‘It’s a key chain.’
Her voice sounded flat, and she dragged her gaze to meet his, confused by the sparkle in his eyes.
Taking the box from her, he opened the palm of her hand and slid the key chain into it before closing her fingers over it.
‘Ah…but it’s not just any key chain. It goes with this.’
He reached behind another cushion and produced a flat, slim parcel wrapped in indigo embossed paper, tied with more fancy silver string.
‘If this is some weird Valentine’s Day thing—’
‘Just open it.’
He pushed the parcel towards her, and she had no option but to place the key ring on the table and open her next surprise, more than a little confused when the wrapping fell away to reveal a map.
‘Maybe I’m still jetlagged, but I’m not getting this,’ she said, raising an eyebrow as the corners of his mouth twitched.
Easy for him to laugh; she’d just unburdened her soul a few minutes ago hoping for the same from him, and all she’d got were a few bizarre presents.
Taking the map out of her hands, he unfolded it, laid it on the coffee table, and smoothed it flat.
‘Here. This should make things a lot clearer.’
He pointed to a large red X in the heart of Melbourne. ‘The café is here.’
‘Hmm, much clearer…not.’
Her brows knit in concentration as she followed his finger as he traced a major arterial to another red X.
‘Barwon Heads is here.’
‘Yeah…’
A glimmer of hope had her clenching her hands to stop from reaching out for the map and rattling it in his face, urging him to get to the point.
‘It’s approximately eighty-five minutes between here and th
ere. Short enough to commute if someone wanted to have the best of both worlds. A little sea change mingled with a healthy dose of city life, perhaps?’
The tiny bud of joy in her heart unfurled and blossomed as she pushed aside the map and flung herself into his arms, her loud ‘woo-hoo’ reverberating around the empty café.
‘I take it this means you like the idea?’
His confident grin had her whacking his chest in a playful slap.
‘You had this planned all along? Even before I told you how I felt?’
‘Sure did. Cool, huh?’
‘But what made you change your mind? You ignored my email.’
The mere thought of what she’d gone through, the pain she’d endured when he hadn’t responded, cast a momentary shadow on her happiness. She never wanted to go through anything remotely like it again.
They belonged together. For ever.
She’d make sure of it, if it took a thousand compromises and a million kilometres on the clock of the car she had to buy considering she’d be making daily trips between the city and the sea.
Pushing the hair back from her face, his hand lingered on her cheek, the tenderness in his gaze taking her breath away.
‘It’s a guy thing. I’d pushed you enough, and it hadn’t worked, so I took the cool approach instead. You know, the whole “treat ’em mean, keep ’em keen” thing. And, hey, you’re here and you’re mine, so I guess it worked.’
She opened her mouth to promise he’d never have to play it cool with her again, but he placed a finger against her lips.
‘But just so you know, that was the first and last time I let you walk away from me.’
Resting his forehead against hers, he murmured, ‘This is it, Cam. We belong together. For the long haul.’
On a ragged breath, he pulled away as she blinked back tears of joy, and slid down onto one knee.
He clasped her hand, his earnest expression tugging at her overflowing heart.
‘My beautiful, headstrong, independent Cam, will you marry me, again? Will you commute in sickness and in health? Will you fill that nursery nook with our babies, however many we’re blessed with, and stay by my side for as long as we both shall live?’
‘I will,’ she said on a whisper, tears sliding unchecked down her cheeks as he pushed another box into her hand, though this time he did the honours of opening it.
She’d never had a ring first time around, had never been a jewellery type of girl, yet the minute she laid eyes on the exquisite diamond solitaire, she fell in love with it and, with shaking hands, tried to take it out of the box.
‘Here. Let me.’
With love blazing from his eyes, he slid the ring onto her third finger, raising her hand to his lips, where he proceeded to kiss every knuckle, every fingertip of her trembling hand while she stared in open-mouthed shock at the man of her dreams and the ring which signified she’d agreed to be his wife, for good this time.
‘Not having second thoughts already?’
Snapping her mouth shut, she ducked her head and planted a swift, reassuring kiss on his lips, tempted to linger longer…like a lifetime.
‘I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.’ She locked gazes with him, satisfied to see nothing but quiet confidence in his. ‘As for you pulling out all the stops tonight, you know I’m not a romantic kind of girl, right?’
‘Yeah, right…’
With a slow, sexy grin, he plucked a truffle off the platter and waved it in front of her, brushing it across her lips in the barest of touches, tempting her to taste it, seducing her with his smouldering stare.
‘You know I think Valentine’s Day is a crock.’
She groaned as he half popped the truffle into his mouth, leaned forward and offered the other half to her, his lips touching hers as she bit into the rich, succulent sweetness, savouring the searing touch of his lips as much as the burst of delicious goodness.
‘So you said.’
His fingertip traced her bottom lip, picking up traces of sugar while her bones melted and her brain fogged and desire churned deep within.
‘But you want to hear something funny?’
‘I’m not in the mood for jokes. I’m in the mood for something else entirely.’
He leaned forward and touched his mouth to hers, licking the sugar from her lips, tasting better than any truffle she’d ever had.
‘I’ll tell you anyway,’ she whispered against the corner of his mouth, her head falling back as his lips slid across her jaw and down her neck. ‘Maybe I was wrong. Maybe the chubby little guy with the bow and arrow knows a thing or two about this romance business. After all, we did meet on Valentine’s Day. And you did walk back into my life a year ago on Valentine’s Day. And here we are, a year later, happily married and pregnant on Valentine’s Day. Are you sensing a pattern?’
He smiled and cradled her close. ‘Happy anniversary, sweetheart, the first of many more,’ he murmured, a second before his lips closed over hers, sealing their incredible, fatalistic union with a kiss.
As Camryn’s eyes fluttered shut, she caught a glimpse of Cupid on the banner strung over the door, sure the wink she saw must have been caused by a wind draft…or a figment of her deliriously happy imagination…or the matchmaking cherub having a laugh at her expense.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-3264-2
THE BILLIONAIRE’S BABY
First North American Publication 2009.
Copyright © 2009 by Nicola Marsh.
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
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.
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