Mistresses: The Consequences Of Desire: Beach Bar Baby / Walk on the Wild Side / Claiming His Own. Heidi Rice

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СКАЧАТЬ flipped off the shower control, but took hold of her wrist as she opened the cubicle door. The sudden silence felt deafening, despite the blood roaring in her ears. He tugged her towards him as he stepped out behind her, tucked a finger under her chin, lifting her gaze to his. ‘What’s up? Is something wrong?’

      ‘No, I just...’ She gulped past the tightness.

      Not yet. Get yourself together first. You need to tell him gently. Carefully.

      Her gaze dropped to his erection. She certainly couldn’t function, let alone think clearly, while he was standing naked in front of her, visibly aroused.

      ‘I just need a minute.’

      His grip had loosened, his gaze puzzled, but not yet wary. She pulled her hand free, headed for the door. ‘Shall we get dressed? I can meet you in the living room in ten minutes? Make you that coffee I promised?’

      He shrugged, grabbed a towel from the rail to wrap around his waist. ‘Sure.’

      She darted out of the door before he could change his mind.

      * * *

      ‘All right, let’s have it, what was so important we couldn’t finish what I was busy starting in the shower?’

      Ella smiled at the rueful tone, and glanced up from the cupcakes she was busy arranging on a plate.

      He stood with his legs crossed at the ankles, leaning against the kitchen counter. He’d changed into a pair of faded jeans and a black T-shirt, which must have been in the bag he’d had with him. Had he come straight from the airport, then, to see her? She felt a renewed spike of optimism, of hope.

      She’d figured so many outcomes for what she was about to tell him, but none of them had included the possibility that he might be pleased with her news. Yes, it would be a shock, but why had she assumed it would necessarily be a disaster?

      She never would have guessed he would come to London, or the chemistry between them would have remained as hot for him as it still was for her.

      ‘Why don’t you sit down?’ She gestured towards the living area. ‘The coffee will be ready any minute.’

      His brows lifted, the rueful grin taking on a mischievous tilt. ‘It’s not coffee I want.’ Stepping close to hold her chin, he gave her lips a quick peck. The kiss felt casual and affectionate. The hope swelled in her chest. ‘But we’ll play it your way, for now.’

      He settled on the sofa, while she fussed over the coffee for another precious few minutes, getting her thoughts lined up.

      Finally she couldn’t put it off any longer. Sitting on the opposite sofa, she placed the plate of cherry-chocolate cupcakes on the coffee table and poured him a cup of coffee. She had a momentary wobble when he told her he took it black, and it occurred to her how much she didn’t know about him.

      Don’t chicken out now. Telling him is the first step to finding out all those things you don’t know.

      She took a long fortifying sip of the fennel tea she’d made for herself. ‘I’m not sure where to start,’ she began, galvanised by the thought that she was excited about taking this new step.

      He lifted a cupcake off the plate. ‘Then why don’t you start by telling me why you ran out on me?’

      ‘I didn’t,’ she said, frowning at the slight edge in his voice. ‘I woke up and you were gone. I figured you’d run out on me.’

      ‘Damn, seriously?’ He looked genuinely stunned, which was a balm to her ego.

      ‘Well, yes. And I felt uncomfortable with your friend Josie there.’ She remembered the spike of dismay and asked, ‘Who is she, by the way? She seemed to know you exceptionally well.’

      His eyebrows rose and his lips crinkled. ‘Are you jealous?’

      Colour stained her cheeks.

      He chuckled. ‘Josie’s like a kid sister. An annoying kid sister. Believe me, you’ve got nothing to be jealous of.’

      ‘I didn’t say I was jealous.’

      ‘Uh-huh.’ He sent her a confident smile. And she huffed out a laugh. The tension in her chest easing.

      He took a large bite of the cupcake, held it up. ‘Damn, that’s good.’ Finishing it off in a few quick bites, he placed the paper casing on the plate. ‘So why don’t you spill it, whatever it is you have to talk about. Before we get back into the shower.’

      The colour in her cheeks flared again, under his watchful gaze. ‘Okay, it’s, well, it’s sort of hard to say right out.’

      She gulped down the new lump in her throat.

      ‘Yeah? That doesn’t sound good.’ He sent her a crooked smile. ‘I really hope you’re not going to tell me you’re married.’

      She laughed, the tension dissolving a little. ‘God, no, it’s nothing like that. It’s...’ She examined her fingers, suddenly shy rather than scared. Wouldn’t it be amazing if he was actually as excited about this as she was? ‘Actually, I’m pregnant. That’s why, well, I’ve gained some weight.’

      The crooked smile remained, but the curiosity in his eyes turned to astonishment as his gaze dipped to her breasts and then her belly. He straightened on the sofa, his mouth opening. Then closing. Then opening again. ‘You...? You’re expecting a kid? You don’t look pregnant.’

      She waited for the obvious next question, but he just continued to stare at her belly.

      ‘Well, I’m only twelve weeks, so it doesn’t show much yet.’ She placed her hands on the slight swelling, suddenly keen to emphasise it for his benefit.

      His head lifted. She’d expected surprise, even shock when he made the connection; she’d even prepared herself for annoyance, and anger. What she hadn’t prepared herself for, though, was the way the relaxed, sexy charm had been ripped away to be replaced by complete horror. ‘Tell me you’re not saying what I think you’re saying?’

      Her pulse throbbed painfully in her neck, and she cradled her abdomen, the urge to shield her child, instinctive. She couldn’t speak, so she simply nodded.

      He leapt up from the sofa like a puppet who had been rudely jerked on stage. The vicious swear word echoed around the tiny room. ‘You have got to be kidding me? It can’t be mine—you said you were on the pill.’

      She’d expected this accusation, on the numerous occasions when she’d had this conversation in her head. But all the careful explanations, the reasoned arguments, the excuses absolving her all seemed to pale into insignificance in the face of his frantic denial. And all she could manage was, ‘I know, I realised when I found out you may have got that impression, but I—’

      ‘You lied to me?’ He stepped forward, the stance threatening.

      Somehow she knew he wouldn’t hurt her, not physically, but she could see the turmoil of emotion and it made her insides tangle into tight, torturous knots, the guilt that she’d kept so carefully at bay for weeks creating a yawning chasm in the pit of her stomach.

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