Bound by a Baby Bump (Harlequin Romance Large Print) (5 page)

She tried hard to think of some way to skewer this logic, some way to get out of this scenario that had her holed up with a man she found dangerously irresistible—the man who had got her pregnant. But whichever way she looked at it, she could see that he was right.

‘Okay,’ she said eventually. ‘I’ll come.’

CHAPTER FOUR

L
EO
COLLAPSED
ONTO
the sand, chest heaving and limbs comfortingly heavy.

A baby. He still couldn’t quite connect that concept with his life. How had that even...? Okay, so it wasn’t as if he needed a diagram, and it wasn’t as if he didn’t believe Rachel when she said she’d taken the morning-after pill. They were just that tiny fraction of a per cent that the maths for a double contraceptive fail worked out as. Maybe at the end of this weekend—he glanced at the sun; Rachel would be here in a few hours—it would feel more real.

He rubbed the heel of his hand against his forehead as he tried to think, the rhythmic crash of the waves on the sand soothing in its familiarity. Was
real
—knowing that there was absolutely, definitely no way of getting out of this—going to feel better? How could it? He’d all but walked away from his family. Had been happy managing on his own. But what could he do now? He’d enjoyed every minute of what had got them here, and he would take responsibility for what they’d done.

His head should be spinning. These past few days he should have wanted to scream, or run, or, God,
faint
or something. But instead, he felt nothing. A blank, empty space filled his brain, keeping feelings at bay.

But as he sat, thinking, he noticed a warm yellow glow creeping around the edges of that numb void. A hint of some emotion that was waiting, just out of reach, but heading closer.

He flopped back onto the sand, covering his eyes from the intense glare of the sun with his arm. Part of him wanted to go. To turn around and walk away and just imagine he’d never laid eyes on Rachel. Pretend that one night, one night that had tied him into a lifetime of commitment, had never happened. But then a flash of memory assailed him—a gentle, lazy smile on Rachel’s lips in the dim early-morning light. Too tired for games, too sated for self-protection, he’d seen for the first time the real, unguarded woman, with no barriers, no motives, no second-guessing. He couldn’t make himself regret that moment, that instant connection.

And there went the ‘numb’ phase, as the memory of his desire and passion that night was chased from his body by nausea-inducing fear. He let out a long, unsteady breath. God, he wished he’d appreciated ‘dazed’ more.

For a moment the thought of that commitment, the inescapable permanency of it, threatened to paralyse him, bringing back every nightmare and the sleepless nights between. The last time Leo Fairfax had been this frightened of the future.

But he was going to be a father. He and Rachel—that fascinating, maddening, excessively disciplined woman he’d been unable to shake from his mind for
weeks
now, had somehow, against all her best-laid plans, and his lack of them, created a new human life. The magnitude of the realisation stole his breath for a few long moments as he looked up and out across the water, trying to imagine who he was, this whole new person that they had created. But the vision remained hazy, too unformed to be anything more than broad strokes of a life.

* * *

Rachel stepped out of the taxi—she’d insisted to Leo that she could, and would, get to his place under her own steam—and gasped in horror. He’d warned her on the phone that he was doing some renovations, but this was...it was ramshackle. The ground all around was either churned up or covered in bags of building materials, and the windows were still covered by plastic sheeting. Most concerning of all, the roof seemed to consist of a couple of blue tarpaulins, flapping gently in the breeze. She glanced up further, relieved to see that the sky was still a clear, sunny blue, without a cloud in sight.

Thank goodness she had a list of practically every hotel in Dorset, sorted by distance from the coastal village Leo’s postcode had directed her to. And a list of taxi companies, too. And train times back to London. As she’d saved them all on her tablet, just in case she found herself out of network coverage, she’d hoped that she wouldn’t actually need them. She wanted to use her time here to get to know Leo better—it was essential, in the circumstances. And staying in a hotel the whole weekend would mean less time together. But she wasn’t sure that a building site was the best place to get to know each other, either.

She’d give it a chance, she told herself, but double-checked that she had signal on her mobile, just in case. Tentatively, she picked her way along the path from the road, and as it passed around the corner of the cottage she stopped and dropped her bag. Okay, so
this
she could stay for. The cottage was perched on top of a rocky cliff, with views all around the bay, from majestic, prehistoric coastline at one end to brightly coloured beach huts and umbrellas at the other. The clumpy grass she’d been cursing for catching on her heels gave way to sand and rocks, and a path meandered down to the narrow sandy beach.

She breathed in a couple of good lungfuls of sea air, but her brief moment of tranquillity was interrupted by a mechanical scream from inside the house. The noise made her jump, but—curious—she ventured towards the door, certain that a whole crew of builders must be in there to make such a racket. A troop of roofers, she hoped, casting another glance at the tarp.

‘Hello?’ she shouted, once she’d grappled with her bag and made it to the door.

But when she caught sight of Leo, she fell silent, leaning against the door frame to enjoy the view. He wore jeans—faded and worn, moulded to his body in a way that told her they were well loved and often worn. His T-shirt was white, damp down the back and clinging in all the right ways. The powerful swimmer’s muscles of his shoulders and back were outlined by the soft cling of the jersey, and rippled as he handled planks of wood and an electric saw with ease.

All day her thoughts had flip-flopped between terror and excitement at the thought of seeing Leo again. They had drifted his way often in the weeks since she’d seen him, reliving that night over and over again. But it wasn’t just the sex that had stuck in her mind. It was the way he’d smiled at her on the dance floor as he’d figured her out, and found which buttons to press to help her change her mind. The sparkle in his eyes as he’d watched her figure him out, and find a way to take him home.

It was the way she’d let go as she’d moved in his arms, following his lead, taking it back, following her body and his, improvising. Exploring every possibility thrown up by this totally unplanned—she could admit it to herself, if not to him—encounter. But the things she’d found with him that night were exactly the reason she was nervous now. How would she keep control over the rest of her life when she’d failed so spectacularly to keep control even over her own body?

Well, she told herself, the first defence was easy—no repeat performances. She had to keep her head. Which meant she had to put the brakes on this little ogling session and somehow get his attention. Not easy when he was wearing ear protectors and making an unholy racket.

It didn’t seem wise to sneak up on a man when he was communing with the power-tool gods. But how long was she meant to stand there? How long could she watch him like this before her resolve began to falter? She was about to take a step forward when her gaze dropped from where it had been fixed on Leo, and her brain caught up with what her eyes were hinting was wrong with the picture. The floor—where was it? She hadn’t noticed it immediately because Leo was standing on a large piece of board, but between the door and him—nothing. Well, not quite nothing. A few joists, the odd floorboard balanced across them. Otherwise, just bare earth a few inches down.

She snatched her foot back and switched to plan B. While she waited for him to finish what he was doing with the saw, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and found his number. As soon as the whine of the tool stopped, she hit Dial, hoping that he had his phone on him, and set to vibrate. It gave her the perfect excuse to look at his bottom at least—trying to see if it had started buzzing, of course.

As she watched, Leo straightened and stretched his muscles, and then reached into his back pocket. Was it her imagination, or did his shoulders tense when he lifted the phone and saw the display? Regardless, hers tensed, too—sympathy stress. When Leo wrenched off the ear protectors, she cleared her throat and he finally turned to look at her.

She tried to read his expression—in business, a degree of mind-reading came in handy. And while she hadn’t quite cracked full-on ESP yet, she’d got pretty good at reading people. So she knew that the smile was genuine—but what he was feeling was more complex than his sunny grin implied. His mouth said he was happy to see her. The line of his shoulders and slight stiffness in his arms told her he was wary. Of her? Of the baby? Was there a difference any more? They came as a package deal—literally—for the next seven or so months.

But he was still smiling at her as he walked across the room—balancing on the joists like a gymnast on a beam.

‘Hi,’ he said as he got to the door. ‘I wasn’t expecting you yet. Sorry, I thought I’d be done for the day before you got here.’ She glanced at her watch. According to her travel schedule, which she’d sent over to him yesterday, she was right on time. But perhaps it was a little early in the trip to bring that up. She remembered the way he had stiffened when he’d seen she was calling and almost flinched herself. It was hardly flattering, knowing she was the cause of such trepidation. And she had no desire to kick off with anything other than small talk just yet. She’d put in a lot of thought, time and energy over the past few days, trying to come up with a plan that would suit both of them, all three of them, for the foreseeable future. There were a few scenarios for them to choose from, but she was satisfied that between the notes on her tablet and the scenario-planning charts she’d printed and bound she’d come up with something that they could work with. All she had to do now was convince Leo of that fact, and in doing so she was going to have to tread lightly.

‘Oh, it’s fine,’ she said, trying to be breezy about the lack of flooring. ‘So...new boards?’

‘It’s kind of a work in progress,’ Leo said, glancing about him, apparently unconcerned. ‘We found some rot and had to rip the old ones out. Then I found these incredible boards at a rec yard.’

She smiled and nodded, feeling the tension in her shoulders travel down her arms until her fingers were fighting against tight fists.

‘But isn’t it a little...inconvenient—not having a floor?’

‘It’s only temporary.’ He shrugged. ‘And it’s only one room—the rest of the house is fine. Are you coming in?’

Fine?
From what she’d seen from the outside, this floor was the least of her worries. But she forced herself to take a deep breath, and keep her smile stuck on a little longer.

‘Sure.’ She grabbed the handle of her suitcase and looked at the floor in anticipation, mapping out the shortest and quickest route.

‘Leave your case—I’ll grab it. Isn’t there a “no heavy lifting” clause in this pregnancy thing?’

Her eyes flicked to his face, trying to read his expression. It was the first time either of them had mentioned the baby, and his voice hadn’t exactly sounded sure, almost as if he were testing the words, not quite believing them. She didn’t answer. She couldn’t, yet. Couldn’t face up to all the uncertainties that lay ahead of them.

She set a foot on the joist by the door. A couple of steps in she started to wish she’d kicked off her shoes as she wobbled a little on her stiletto heel. But just as she started to worry that she might not get that wobble back under control, Leo’s hand grabbed hers and held her steady. A shiver spread through her body at the feel of his hand, and she squeezed it tight, suddenly feeling less steady on her feet, not more. He swung the door open in front of them and she jumped across the last gap.

As she landed, she wobbled again, and this time Leo’s arm caught her around the waist. She’d put out a hand to break the fall she’d been sure was inevitable, but instead of hitting the floor it hit solid, warm muscle. She should have snatched it back, of course. Should definitely not have stretched her fingers and pressed her palm a little tighter against him, remembering the night she had spent held against that chest, the salty taste as she’d kissed it, how she’d pressed her palms to it as she’d...

Leo’s arm tightened around her and she wondered if he was remembering, too. She looked up and found his gaze intent on her, his eyes serious and the smile gone. Her lips parted, and her body begged her to stretch up, to press her lips against his, to lose herself in his body. But her brain screamed warnings thick and fast. Caught in the middle, she wavered, leaning back slightly against Leo’s arm as she met his gaze. Over his shoulder, she caught a glance of the room they had just left—the chaos, the power tools, the almost complete lack of
floor
—and she took a deliberate step backwards. Her life was chaotic enough. One night with Leo had shaken up everything she thought she knew about the future and dumped it back around her. The last thing she needed at the moment was for that to happen again.

Leo gave her a long look, his expression neither regretful nor pleased, but hovering somewhere around wary. After a beat, he turned from her and strode back across the joists to rescue her case from outside. Rachel dragged her eyes from him and, determined to distract herself, took a moment to look around the room she’d landed in so inelegantly. The contrast between the front room and this kitchen couldn’t be greater. From chaos, she’d stepped into a lifestyle magazine. Sunlight spilled in through wide windows with views out towards the bay, reflecting off the polished wooden worktops. A huge table, made of boards similar to the ones Leo was laying in the next room, occupied one half of the kitchen and an enormous range cooker occupied an inglenook fireplace. Glass doors opened out onto a small garden and a staircase wound up the wall in the corner of the room. It was beautiful, and when she looked at Leo it was with admiration for more than his well-developed lats.

He arrived back at the door to the kitchen with her case slung effortlessly over his shoulder. Okay, she was still admiring the lats, she realised, that perfect diagonal of muscle between underarm and waist—and reminded herself that all her future plans for her life came with a big fat
No Repeat Performance
clause. If she wanted to stay on track, she had to get her ogle under control.