Leah Ashton - Nine Month Countdown

The dress was new. She’d dragged one of her assistants out shopping. Ivy had made sure she’d smiled a lot and dropped hints about her ‘date’ tonight while still being deliberately coy.

That was all that had kept her going as the seconds and minutes had crawled along—focusing on her...plan.

In all honesty, it was far from her best plan. In fact, it was most likely her worst.

But she needed a plan right now. She needed a way forward, a way to fix this.

Because Ivy Molyneux didn’t make mistakes.

‘Ivy.’

At the sound of Angus’s already familiar deep voice, Ivy channelled Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman as she slowly pivoted her chair to face him. What she really wanted to do was disappear between the floorboards. So, so badly.

But then she saw him.

In Bali, in his casual wedding attire, he’d been undeniably handsome. Heck, he’d be undeniably handsome anywhere.

But in the intimate lighting of the bar, in dark jeans, boots and a slim fitting black shirt he was...just plain gorgeous. His clothes weren’t particularly formal, but he somehow managed to still look effortlessly dressed to impress. He looked darker, taller, broader than she remembered.

Especially now that he was standing so close to her. Close enough to touch.

And then he did touch her. Casually leaning forward to brush a kiss against her cheek and to bring his lips to her ear.

‘You are stunning,’ he said. His breath momentarily tickled her neck.

Ivy shivered.

He stepped back, his appreciative gaze sweeping over her.

She loved the dress she’d bought today. Teal silk with a feminine wrap bodice and a fitted skirt that hit mid-thigh, it flattered her curves and on any other day would’ve made her feel on top of the world.

That it didn’t helped bring her back to reality.

This wasn’t a date.

This so wasn’t a date.

Ivy slid off her chair, waving away the arm he offered her. Without a word she headed to the back of the bar. It was busy, with all but the three tables along the far wall occupied.

Each was marked with a small reserved sign, and it was towards the middle table that Ivy gestured.

‘I booked a table,’ she said.

She’d booked three, actually, and paid for a night’s worth of meals on all. It was still hardly private, but it would have to do.

‘Dinner?’ Angus asked.

Despite everything, Ivy managed a smile. Clearly dinner and conversation were not what Angus had planned for the night.

He was close beside her, and she could practically feel his growing tension.

Well, that situation wasn’t about to improve for him.

She took her seat, and Angus took his. He must have plucked her champagne from the bar, as he placed it before her, his wrist still bandaged as it had been in Bali.

That was nice of him.

Would he be a good dad?

She gave a little shake of her head. No. This wasn’t fair, that she knew and he didn’t. That he thought he was here for meaningless flirtation followed by meaningless sex, when he so, so wasn’t.

‘Ivy, what’s going on?’

She’d been staring, unseeing, down at her fingers, which she’d been wrapping and unwrapping around the stem of her champagne glass.

She took a breath. The deepest breath she could remember taking.

Then she lifted her gaze, and met his.

Even in the moody bar lighting, she now finally had enough light to see the colour of his eyes. Hazel.

They were lovely eyes, sexy eyes, but right now they were hard and unyielding.

Yes, he’d worked out that this night wasn’t going to pan out the way he’d planned.

‘Angus—I’m pregnant.’

THREE

Pregnant?

All the stupid, obvious questions were on the tip of his tongue.

Are you sure?

How...?

Is it mine?

But he knew all the answers:

Of course she was. That she wanted to be anywhere but here was clear in everything about her. She was one hundred per cent sure or she wouldn’t be putting either of them through this.

The how hardly needed explaining. He’d been there, too.

And was it his?

Well, that was only a faint hope that this was all a terrible mistake, rather than a genuine question.

And he was grateful that a small smidgen of his brain told him to swallow the words before they leapt from his mouth.

Because of course it was his. He had known what he’d been doing in Bali—known he’d pushed her out of her comfort zone, known he’d pursued the electric attraction between them to what he’d felt was the only logical conclusion...

But that she didn’t normally have random sex with a practical stranger on a beach had been abundantly clear.

So yes, it was his.

With the basics covered, he dropped his head, gripping his skull with his hands.

He swore harshly.

That was about the sum of it.

‘Angus?’

He kept his head down, but he nodded.

‘I know this is a shock. I know this is the wrong place to tell you. When I called I hadn’t planned this...but...’

It didn’t matter. Who cared where she told him?

His thoughts leapt all over the place, as if his brain was incapable of being still, or of grasping onto anything at all.

He’d never felt like this.

He’d been in combat many more times than once.

He’d been in the most stressful situations that most people could imagine. Real stress. Real life-and-death stress, not running-late-for-work stress.

And yet this had thrown him. This had sent his ability to think, and apparently to talk, skittering off the rails.

‘Um, the thing is, Angus, I have a plan.’

His gaze shot up, linking with hers in almost desperation. ‘A plan?’

Ivy nodded slowly. And then she seemed to realise what he was thinking.

She looked down, studying her untouched champagne glass again.

‘No,’ she said, so softly he had to lean closer. ‘Not that.’ Her gaze darted back to his, and she looked at him steadfastly now. With that directness, that realness he’d liked so much in Bali. ‘I’m thirty-one, and I have money and every resource I could wish for at my disposal. In every possible way this is the last thing I want. But a termination isn’t an option for me.’

She barely blinked as she studied him. Long, long moments passed.

Angus cleared his throat. ‘I’m thirty-four with a career I love that takes me away from home for months at a time and could one day kill me. I don’t want this. I don’t want children.’ Ivy’s gaze wobbled a little now as Angus swallowed. ‘But for no reason I can fathom, I’m glad you’ve made that decision.’

Now he glanced away. He didn’t know why he’d said that, or why he felt that way. The logical part of him—which was basically all of him—didn’t understand it.

It made no sense. But it was the truth. His truth.

When he looked back at Ivy she was again studying her champagne glass.

‘Well, it’s good we’re on the same page, then,’ she said, her tone now brisk and verging on businesslike. ‘So, here’s my actual plan.’ By the time she met his gaze again, she was all business. Ivy Molyneux of Molyneux Mining—not Ivy the girl from the beach. ‘I’ll get straight to the crux of it: I’d like us to get married.’

Straight after the pregnancy news, Angus would’ve thought it would take a hell of a lot to shock him.

That did it.

‘What?’

She held up a hand. ‘Just hear me out,’ she said. ‘What I’m proposing is a business arrangement.’ A pause, and then a half-smile. ‘And, yes, marriage.’

Ivy might find this funny, but Angus sure as hell didn’t.

He remained stonily silent.

‘The term of the agreement would be twelve months from today,’ Ivy continued, clearly warming to her topic. ‘As soon as possible we would reveal our—until now—several months’ long secret relationship to family and friends, and, shortly after, our engagement. Then, of course, our—’ now she stumbled a little ‘—our, um, situation would mean that we’d bring our wedding forward. I thought that we could make that work in our favour. A Christmas Eve wedding would be perfect, I felt.’