A Baby on Her Christmas List (3 page)

She was strong and staunch and loyal and in that second he knew that if
his
back was against the wall, she’d do anything for him. Anything.

And so here they were at an impasse. All he had to do was offer her what she wanted.

Great to help out a friend, but at the same time he was held back by...abject
fear
. Fear, that was it. The increased heart rate, sweaty palms, gut clench. He was scared as hell at the prospect of it all, of letting everyone down. Of not loving enough. Or, worse, loving too much. And he knew damned well how that panned out. He wouldn’t be able to function around a child or be part of her cosy family. But if he didn’t do it then she’d be forced to choose someone she didn’t know or give up altogether
—
and he knew, too, that that was not part of her dream.

Despite all the late-night musings and the words going round and round in his head, he knew it was the most stupid idea he’d ever had.

But the words lingered. Lingered still as he saw her shrug her shoulders. As she turned her back to him and opened the car door. Lingered as he watched her swipe her hand across her face to stop a rogue tear. She wouldn’t even allow herself to show her bitter disappointment. That almost broke him in two.

It would cost him little in time and effort. Not overtly anyway. He’d have to deal with the ramifications later. But right now his friend was hurting and there was something he could do to help. One singular thing. He could be that guy. The one he wanted to be, the one who took an emotional risk and helped a friend in need, whatever the personal cost.

Before he’d had a chance to second guess himself the words were tumbling out. ‘Georgie, wait. I’ll do it.’

Her voice was small and he could hear the pain, and yet deep down there was some hope as she turned to face him. ‘Do what?’

‘I’ll be the donor.’

‘You?
You?
Why?’ Her laugh was bordering on sarcastic.

He took a step forward. ‘Because I’m taking you seriously. This is what you want. What you deserve.’

She wagged her finger, fast. ‘Oh, no. No. No. No. No. No. No. Not happening.’

‘Unless you have a particular aversion to passing along my DNA? If I were to look objectively I’d say I was pretty okay. I’m a doctor, so not dumb. Oh, and my compassion knows no bounds. Apparently you like that in a father figure. I’m funny
—
always a winner.’ He pointed to his abs, which he sucked in for effect. ‘And pretty much the most devastatingly good-looking man in town.’

And bingo
—
his aid work meant he’d be out of the country for most of the rest of his life if he wanted. So he wouldn’t be forced into any emotional attachment. This was a purely altruistic act. Which begged the question—what the hell did he want?

This wasn’t about him, he reminded himself. It was about Georgie. ‘How could you not want to use my
sperm
?’
He whispered the last word as reality started to seep through his feel-good fuzzies.

The sarcasm melted away and the laugh was pure Georgie. ‘Yeah, right. That’s objective? Don’t get above yourself. For one, you have a slightly crooked nose.’

He ran his down his ethmoid bone and he gave her his profile view. ‘Rugby injury, not genetic. Besides, you can hardly see it.’

She cocked her hip to one side as she perused him. ‘You have particularly broad shoulders.’

‘Great for tackling and giving great hugs.’ And he should know. He’d done it often enough. Usually as he was patting women on the back and wishing them well.
It wasn’t them, it was him.

She frowned. ‘But not great for wearing halter-neck tops.’

‘Ah shucks, and now you’ve spoilt my dress plans for tomorrow.’ Funny, but it felt strange, being analysed in such a way by a friend.

‘On the other hand, you do have...long legs.’ Her voice cracked a little as her gaze scanned his trousers. Her pupils did a funny widening thing. A flash of something
—
and then it was gone. Two red spots appeared on her cheeks. ‘Ahem, big feet.’

‘And we all know what that means.’ He winked. ‘Any boy would be happy with the MacAllister brand of DNA. If you bottled it you’d get a fortune.’

‘Oh, yeah? No girl wants big feet. Bad for shoe buying.’ She gave him a final once-over glance. Then her voice softened. ‘Really, it’s a lovely offer and I’d be stupid not to take you up on it. But what about you? You don’t want this. You really don’t want this.’

‘But you do, Georgie.’ There was a long beat while he tried to put into words the weird feelings he was experiencing. He could give her the chance she wanted, on one condition. ‘But we’ll need a contract. I don’t want any involvement.’

‘Oh.’ Giving the minutest shake of her head, she held her palm up. ‘You’ll be the baby daddy but don’t want to be
the
daddy?’

‘Yep.’

‘Oh. Okay. Then I’m utterly shocked that you’ve offered. Why would you do that?’

Not wanting to dig up something he’d pushed to the darkest part of his soul, he gave her the scantest of explanations. ‘Happy families isn’t my style. But a happy Georgie is. I’ll do it. Just agree before I change my mind.’

‘Oh, this is fast and so out of left field.’ She put a hand to his shoulder, ran her fingers down his arm. And in the cool late summer evening goosebumps followed the trail of her warm skin against his. ‘Can I think about it? Get used to the idea?’

‘Sure.’ He needed time too, his chest felt blown wide open.

‘It would mean a lot of changes. For us.’

‘I know. I realise that.’ And if it hadn’t been Georgie’s dream on the line, no way would he ever contemplate something like this.

She looked hesitant, shocked, but hopeful. ‘So...well, we could have a contract similar to the clinic’s standard donor document. We can use that as a blueprint. If that’s what you really want?’

‘That’s what I want. No involvement, nothing.’

‘I won’t ask you for anything else. Ever. Trust me.’

He did. Absolutely. He just wasn’t sure how much he could trust himself. ‘Yes. Definitely. A contract will be best.’

‘And it’ll mean tests. Soon. Like this week.
’

‘Whatever it takes.’ Although the altruistic vibe was fast morphing into panic.

‘Oh, my God, is this really happening?’ She reached round his waist and pulled him into one of her generous hugs. His nostrils filled with her perfume and he fought a sudden urge not to let go.

Her body felt good close to his. She was soft in his arms and her head against his chest made his heart hurt a little. He’d missed her these last few weeks. Especially these last few days. They never argued.

And this...was just a hug. Nothing strange there. She gave them all the time. And yet... He was aware of the softness of her body, the curve of her waist... He swallowed.

Nah. She felt just the same as always. Just the same old Georgie. She turned her head and looked up at him, her dark eyes dancing with excitement, the evening sun catching her profile. For a second she just looked into his eyes. One. Two. He lost count. She had amazing eyes. Flecked with warm gold and honey that matched her hair. His gaze drifted across the face he knew so well, and a shiver of something he didn’t want to recognise tightened through him.

She pulled away quickly and the connection broke.

Thank God, because he was getting carried away in all her emotion. And that was definitely not something he was planning on doing. Emotional distance was the only thing that stopped him wreaking any more damage on those he loved. Hell, he was his father’s son after all. Emotional distance was what MacAllister men did better than anyone else. But somehow he didn’t think that that admission would go down well on Georgie’s tick list.

‘Thank you. Thank you so much. It means a lot to me.’ She placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. Again with the goosebumps. This time they prickled all the way to his gut and lower. ‘I’ll mull it over and...um...let you know? Soon as possible?’

‘Okay, and I’ll get the turkey baster sorted for when you say yes.’ Now he needed to ignore the strange feelings and off-load some of this ache in his chest. He saw a damned long run in his immediate future.

Her demeanour changed. She brushed a hand down over her scrub trousers, all business and organisation as she took a shaky little step away from him. ‘Like I said, we’ll do it the clinic way.’

‘For sure. Any other way would be just too
—
’

Her head tilted a little to the side. ‘Ick?’

He grinned. ‘Is that a technical term?’

‘Absolutely. For that weird feeling you get when you think about sleeping with your best friend? Like sex with your cousin? Right? Weird.’ Shuddering, she looked to him for reassurance.

Which he gave unreservedly. ‘Right. Yes. Ick’s the word.’

The notion of them having sex had rarely arisen. Back in the early days he’d caught himself looking at her and wondering. She’d walked through his dreams many nights. He’d tried to imagine what kissing her would have been like. How she would taste. How she would feel underneath him. Around him. But he’d never put any of that into words for fear she’d run a mile. He’d never asked more from her than what they’d already had and, frankly, he’d believed that any kind of fling would inevitably ruin the great friendship they’d built up.

She was worth more to him than just sex. And seeing as that was the only thing he ever offered to women, he’d never wanted to risk doing something so pointlessly stupid and losing her.

Plus, while Georgie was funny and loyal, she’d never made a move or seemed interested in him in that way. They’d had an implicit agreement that anything of a sexual nature could never happen. So he’d sublimated those imaginings until he’d stopped having them. Had lost himself in other women.

Which made it all the more nonsensical that he’d started noticing things again...like her smell, the colour of her hair, her eyes. Surely it could only mean some sort of nostalgia for the younger Georgie in his past when the present was shifting out of his control?

CHAPTER THREE

Eight months ago...

Hey, stranger. Thought you’d want to know that your genius sperm has done what it was designed to do...I’m pregnant!

Great news. Congratulations.

F
INALLY
,
AN
ANSWER
. Biggest news she’d ever had and not one exclamation mark. Not one. No cheers or fanfares. No questions. Was he not just a little curious? Pleased for her? Maybe it was the whole emotionless text thing stuffing up the sentiment of his message, but hadn’t the man heard about emoticons?

Disappointed, Georgie texted him back.

I’m so excited! :) Catch up soon?

Sure. Things are a bit busy right now. Packing. South Sudan. In two days. I’ll try come over to say bye.

Okay, your call.

He was heading off again and he’d try to come and see her?
Try?
What the hell...? Packing didn’t take two whole days. He was the world’s lightest traveller.

And, actually, it was her call just as much as his. Worrying about contacting him had never been an issue before and it shouldn’t be now just because she was carrying his baby.
No.
Her
baby. He’d made that very clear. But surely they could still be friends? She wasn’t going to allow this to change what they had. Why should pregnancy make a difference?

But it did, she realised. Not just to her relationship with Liam, but to her. She was going to be a mum.
A mother
. With a family. Something she’d never had before. She was going to be part of something...more.

She put a hand to her very flat, very
un
pregnant-looking stomach and her heart did another flip. It was still so early, too early to grow attached; any number of things could go wrong. But it was already too late. Her stomach tumbled as she closed her eyes, imagining.

Hey, there, little one
.
Nice to meet you.

And that was about all she dared say. She felt something tug deep inside her. These days she seemed to be so emotional about things. About the baby. About Liam...

Well, if he wasn’t going to make an effort then she damn well would. She wanted to celebrate and send him off on his travels with no tension between them.
Georgie stabbed his number into the phone and left a message: ‘Hey, step away from your backpack. Let’s do something. I won’t take no for an answer. I get the feeling you’re avoiding me. But if you are, please don’t admit it. Just say you’ve been busy. Mission Bay? Six-thirty. I’m hiring bikes. No excuses.’

* * *

‘Are you bonkers or just straight up certifiable?’ Three hours later his voice, behind her, although irritated and loud, made her heart jig in her chest. He’d turned up at least, and for that she was grateful. ‘Cycling? In your condition? Seriously?’

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, I’m fine. How many times have we done this?’ She turned and pretended to scowl, but her scowl dropped the moment she set eyes on him. He was wearing a scruffy old T-shirt that hugged his toned muscles and was the same vibrant blue as his eyes. Faded jeans graced his long legs, framing his bum...and, no, she’d never really studied it before, but it was deliciously gorgeous. No wonder he had a queue of women trying to encourage him to commit.

Heat hit her cheeks and shimmied down to her belly, where it transformed into
What would he be like in bed
?

And that was just one of too many thoughts about him recently that were way out of line.

To distract herself from staring too long at the man who had suddenly become a whole new fascination for her, she clipped on her helmet and prepared to use up some of this nervous energy. Pregnant, yes. Petrified, indeedy. Strangely excited just to see her long-lost best mate? Very definitely. And that made her legs twitch and her stomach roll.

‘I needed some fresh air. It’s such a beautiful evening and it’s the weekend tomorrow. Freedom! We could get fish and chips and eat them on the beach later.’

He frowned and pointed to her helmet. ‘Take it off, Georgie. It’s too dangerous. We haven’t been cycling for years, you could fall off. Why you suddenly want to do it now I don’t know.’

‘Because it used to be fun and I don’t know why we got out of the habit of doing it. I want the fun back.’ She shook her head in defiance. ‘And stop being ridiculous. You’re a doctor, you know very well that at this stage in pregnancy it’s perfectly fine to exercise. Come on, I’ll be fine, it’s not as if I’m bungee jumping. Although, there is a free slot at the Skytower at eight. So if we hurry...’ She handed him his helmet and stood, arms crossed over her chest, until he’d put it on over that grumpy face. ‘Breathe, Liam. Breathe. It was a joke. And do try to keep up!’

The sea air was filled with salt and heat and the smell of a distant barbecue. Overhead, seagulls dived and squawked, making the most of a bright summer evening’s scavenging. Mission Bay was, as always, filled with smiling people, cycling, blading or running along the seaside promenade. On the right, beyond small beach inlets and a turquoise sea dotted with anchored yachts, the mighty volcanic Rangitoto Island stood verdant and powerful. On the left they cycled past coastal suburbia, higgledy-piggledy candy-coloured houses clinging to the steep hillside.

Georgie pedalled hard, keeping him in her slipstream, ignoring his concerned cries. She could do this. She needed to do this to show him
—
and herself
—
that she was still the same old Georgie. And if she could also purge those weird fluttery feelings that seemed to happen whenever she saw him, that would be even better. Because this new Georgie who kept popping up with hot thoughts about Liam was unsettling in the extreme.

Usually he raced ahead, screaming over his shoulder for her to go faster, but today he seemed happy to pootle behind. She had the distinct feeling that, in his own way, he was keeping watch over her.

After a few kilometres, pedalling towards towering city skyscrapers, she turned and cycled back to the row of Victorian buildings flanking a children’s playground and large fountain. Toddlers kicked and splashed in the spraying water, watched over by attentive parents.

Georgie braked, imagining being here some time in the future, showing her little one the exciting new world. Making everything a game, lining up her pram with the others, chatting to parents about nappy changing, bedtimes and the terrible twos. Her heart zinged. It seemed that, despite all her best efforts, she was starting to see everything through a different, pregnancy-coloured lens. With a heavy heart she glanced at the young dads splashing around and on the reserve, throwing balls to their sons, cheering, encouraging and, most of all, laughing.

Liam had been definite in his refusal to be a father. She understood that some people didn’t have the need for kids in their lives, but that didn’t mean she liked the idea. How could someone not want to know their own flesh and blood? It had been a question burning through her for her whole life. How could you just walk away and not want to be found, not want to make contact? What the hell ever happened to unconditional love?

It went against everything she knew about him. He was gregarious, funny, and cared deeply about the people he helped. But if he really meant he wasn’t going to be involved she’d have to be Mum and Dad to her child. After all, in the children’s home where she’d eventually settled, one parent was always better than none at all.

As Liam approached she flicked the bike into gear and cycled on to a small caravan advertising fish and chips and ice-cold drinks. ‘Usual? Snapper?’

‘Of course. And a large portion of chips. Tomato sauce...’ He grinned, pointing to a can of cola. ‘And all the trimmings.’

‘I don’t know where you put it all.’ His belly was hard and taut. Body lean. Again with the full-on flush as she looked at him, this was becoming an uncomfortable habit. ‘If I ate half of what you ate I’d be the side of a house.’

‘You can’t exactly worry about putting on weight now, can you?’ He laughed and gave her a look she couldn’t quite decipher.

Having returned their bikes to the hire shop, they walked in step down to the beach and found a spot on the sand in the warm, soothing last rays of the day. Liam sat beside her and they ate out of the paper in companionable silence, pausing every now and then to comment on the food. The fish was divine, as always, the chips hot and salty, the cola too cold and too fizzy. Everything seemed exactly the same as it always was, except that it wasn’t. She didn’t know how to begin to have any kind of conversation that referred to being pregnant without causing another rift between them.

In the end she decided that rather than going over and over things in her head she was just going to say what was bothering her. She waited until he met her eyes. ‘I wanted to say thank you, thank you, thank you for what you did.’

‘It’s fine. Honestly. Congratulations. You must be pleased.’ He didn’t look fine, he looked troubled as he leaned in and kissed her cheek, long eyelashes grazing her skin. ‘You’re looking good. Feeling okay so far?’

‘Feeling a little numb all round, to be honest. It’s real and happening and I can’t quite believe it. I’m so lucky for it to have worked first time round. But it does happen.’ She ran her palm across her tender breasts. ‘No morning sickness yet, but my boobs are pretty sore.’

‘Yeah. It happens. Wait till the varicose veins and heartburn kick in then you’ll really be rocking.’ He gave her a small smile, smoothing the tiny lines around his eyes, and for a second she was ten years younger, meeting him for the first time. All über-confident medical student who had been knocked sideways by the tiniest of beings
—
so small she’d fitted almost into the palm of his hand. Never had Georgie seen anyone look so frightened by something so frail, the cheery self-assurance whipped from him as if he’d been sucker-punched.

He’d been honest and open and warm. And since then she’d stood with pride at his graduation, cheered him on the sidelines at rugby games, dragged him kicking and screaming to ballet performances and musical theatre, entirely happy with what he’d had to give her. Just a simple, uncomplicated friendship.

But now his eyes roved her face and then his gaze dipped to where her hand was over her breast. Suddenly she felt a little exposed and hot again under his scrutiny. She kept her eyes focused on the top of his head but eventually he looked back at her as if he was going to speak. A flash of something rippled through those ocean-blue eyes. Something that connected with her, something more than warm, which made her belly clutch and her cheeks burn. Heat prickled through her, intense and breath-sapping.

Her fingers ached to just reach out and touch his cheek. Just touch it. To see what his skin felt like. To feel his breath on her face. Her mouth watered just looking at his lips. Open a little. Just a little... Her breath hitched. He was so close. His familiar scent of male and fresh air wrapped around her like a blanket.

Close enough to
—

He shook his head as if confused and disorientated. Then he shifted away and focused on the remainder of his food. Meanwhile, she breathed out slowly, trying to steady her ridiculously sputtering heartbeat. Had she imagined that flash of heat? Those feelings?

Yes.

It was all just her stupid clunky imagination.

She would rather die than ask him and be laughed at...or worse. That kind of conversational subject was explicitly off limits and would only cause tension. It was bad enough that she’d created this difficult atmosphere in the first place. But now, to... Oh, my God. The thought flitted into her brain and rooted itself there, so obvious, so immense, so downright out of this world...
No
. Surely not. She didn’t. Couldn’t.

She fancied him? Fancied the pants off Liam MacAllister? The guy she’d got drunk with, thrown up on, told her deepest dirty secrets to? She wanted to kiss him? Really? Truly? Her heart thudded with a sinking realisation. Things between them were complicated enough, not least because he was going halfway across the world in less than twenty-four hours and she had no idea when she would see him next.

She couldn’t want him, and he certainly wouldn’t want her, especially with a baby in tow. Not now. Not ever. End of.

Hell, no.

* * *

Georgie was wearing a soft white lacy bra.

That was all Liam could think of. Not how amazing it was that she was pregnant. Although that was pretty amazing. Foolish and foolhardy and well beyond his comprehension too. But she did have a kind of warm glow about her, a softness he’d never seen before. He was no longer even registering how far beyond stupid she’d been to race along the pavement on two thin wheels when anything could have happened to her.

No, the only thing that took up room in his thick head was that her small perfect breasts were covered in lace.

As she leaned forward to take another hot chip, her top gaped a little more and he caught a glimpse of dark nipples. Cream skin. He swallowed. Dragged his gaze away and looked out at the boats bobbing on the turquoise water. What the hell was wrong with him?

Why, when he needed to put distance between them, had that whole concept suddenly become too hard to contemplate? He’d gone from not thinking about her in that way to not being able to stop thinking about her in the matter of a few weeks. He’d kept away, making excuses not to see her, just to get his head around everything. And it had failed spectacularly because the moment she’d told him she was getting on a saddle he’d thundered down here with a distinct determination to convince her not to. He’d always teased her, had fun with her, joked around with her, but never until now had he had this need to protect her. Even if it was from herself.

And he was damned sure it wasn’t just because she was pregnant. But he wished to hell it was. Because that was none of his business. Because that he could distance himself from.

Couldn’t he?

Man, his life was changing in a direction that was beyond his control and it was taking a lot of getting used to. His life, yes. But another life, a new life, was growing inside her and he was struggling to get past that.