Modern Romance December Books 5-8. Дженнифер Хейворд

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      He had half expected to find Lucy still working at the laundry. He wasn’t disappointed. Ruffled and sleep-deprived, with his collar pulled up against the awful weather, as he peered through the steamed-up window his spirits rose. Serving behind the counter, Lucy was as cheerful as ever as she chatted to customers in her usual friendly way.

      Pulling back, he felt the loss of her keenly, as if he were a child with his nose pressed against the window, viewing a treat he couldn’t have, a gift he had forfeited for the sake of Mother Duty. He had to take a moment. Seeing Lucy again wrenched at his heart. There was no one like her, and there never would be. He’d never felt like this before. Laying his heart on the line was new to him. Raw sex and power, together with huge wealth and the mystique of royalty, had always been enough to open any door, but these things didn’t mean anything to Lucy. She trod her own path, couldn’t be wooed with promises of wealth or position. He would have to dig much deeper than that, or he’d lose her for ever.

      The doorbell chimed with irritating optimism as he walked into the shop.

      ‘Tadj!’ Paling, Lucy gripped the counter.

      Horror-struck that the sight of him might harm Lucy or the baby, he was holding her in a second. He should have warned her to expect him. Having plunged over the counter to grab her by the arms in case she fell, he held her in front of him to check she was okay. He could breathe again when the colour returned to her face. ‘We have to stop meeting like this,’ he murmured, drinking her in with all the fervour of a parched man in the desert.

      With a hum, she broke free. The customer had left by now, so they were alone. Lucy had snapped back into work mode, pinning tickets on garments, before handing them through the hatch opening onto the steamy heart of the laundry. She was so graceful, so vulnerable, and desirable. Images collided in his mind of her cool hands on his body, and her soft lips on his mouth. ‘Can you take a break any time soon?’

      ‘I break for lunch in half an hour,’ she said, glancing at the clock.

      His spirits lifted, though he was careful to keep his tone casual. ‘May I take you for coffee?’

      ‘In the café where we first met?’ she said, staring at him as if seeing him for the first time.

      ‘I’ll meet you there,’ he confirmed.

      ‘It will be busy at lunchtime,’ she called after him as he left the shop. ‘Bag a table if you get there first.’

      Not the best offer he’d ever received from a woman, but, where Project Wooing was concerned, he thought it a reasonable start.

      * * *

      Lucy was late. Where the hell was she? Was she coming at all? He stared at the door, wondering if he’d been stood up, or if she’d run from him again, to some place where he’d never find her. The thought that he’d been stood up amused him, but if she’d gone—he couldn’t even contemplate that, so, ordering another coffee, he told himself to use the time to plan and think. Impatience made that impossible. What use was planning, when Lucy was unpredictable? He had to find a way to pin her down, but he needed her here first... He stared with unblinking attention at the door, as if that could make her appear. She was more precious than he’d realised, which was why he hadn’t come here with a better offer, but with the ultimate offer, and one he was confident she couldn’t refuse.

      If she turned up, that was.

      * * *

      Tadj’s arriving at the laundry unannounced had really thrown her. What did he want? Did he think she’d changed her mind about becoming his mistress? She racked her brains to think if there was a single problem where work was concerned, but she couldn’t think of one. As she’d thought all along, they could communicate perfectly well over the internet, and plans for the various exhibitions of the Qalalan sapphires were progressing well. Hopefully, he was here to talk about the baby. She longed for a compromise, her heart picking up pace just thinking about Tadj, and discussing with him the most important topic in their lives. The prospect of that was like all her Christmases and birthdays come together. But he mustn’t think he could rule them as he ruled Qalala.

      She hurried to take a shower, and, as she was seven months pregnant, getting dressed meant exchanging one shapeless sack for another. Staring at herself in the mirror brought an image of Tadj into her mind. How could he possibly find her attractive in this condition? And why should she care? Surely that meant he wouldn’t want her as his mistress, so that was one hurdle she’d jumped over.

      The fact that they hadn’t exchanged a single personal word since Lucy had left Qalala was as much her fault as his. She’d thought it better to let things cool down, but that meant he’d missed scans, and hearing the heartbeat of their child. She felt bad about that, but he couldn’t walk back into her life and think that nothing had changed. She hadn’t been sitting around doing nothing these past few months; if he thought that, he was due a surprise.

      Snow flurries were settling on the ground as she prepared to leave. It would soon be Christmas. Before then, she’d stop work and concentrate on getting ready to welcome the baby. Her mother had booked a cruise over the holidays, and Lucy planned to spend the time alone. Several friends had offered alternatives, but enjoying the festivities in the midst of a happy family would only remind her how much she missed Tadj.

      Anyway, enough of that, she thought, mashing her lips together to blend in the lip gloss. If only she weren’t so pregnant and unwieldy—but she was pregnant, and she was unwieldy, Lucy concluded with a wry smile, so, suck it up!

      She strode to the café with her head bowed against the wind. Otherwise, she was in no way bowed, but was striding to this meeting loud and proud. And, instead of a shapeless sack, she had shoehorned her body into a figure-hugging dress she’d been saving for Christmas. She didn’t want Tadj to think her weak, just because she was pregnant, and she was proud of her baby bump. Which was just as well, Lucy concluded, catching sight of her reflection in a shop window. There was no hiding her condition now, and why should she? With an Honours accreditation in her back pocket, and the promise of a great career ahead, she was doing okay without Tadj. If he wanted to be part of her life, he would have to...

      He would just have to ask, Lucy thought wryly as she reached the café and spotted him waiting inside.

      * * *

      The day was transformed from grey and dismal to something vibrant as Lucy breezed in. Her presence cheered everyone up, and turned every head in the café. She approached the table he’d ‘bagged’ as instructed, in a flurry of flying scarf and watchful eyes. Her cheap red coat refused to fasten over her baby bump, which made her seem even more vulnerable to him than she had in the shop. The bitter wind had turned the tip of her nose the same colour as her coat, which he found endearing.

      Standing, he held out her chair. ‘How’ve you been?’ he asked as soon as she was settled.

      ‘Pregnant.’ Her gaze was steady and long. ‘And busy,’ she added, softening her tone. ‘Did you see the latest drawings I sent?’

      ‘Not only have I seen them, I’ve approved them,’ he confirmed. His team had agreed that Lucy had a real talent when it came to capturing a person’s interest before leading them through the story of a sapphire, from its discovery as a rough, unpolished stone, to a glowing gem that added lustre to some of the world’s most beautiful women. ‘But that isn’t what I’m here to talk about,’ he said. ‘I want to know about you.’

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