Rachael Johns - Pregnant By Mr Wrong

The door to the café opened as a group of women emerged, giggling. He straightened as they all paused to give him the once-over. The two blondes, the brunette and the redhead were dressed as if they’d just come from a dance club or yoga class. Normally, presented with four hot women, he’d take a moment to flirt a little and get a phone number or two for his little black book, but today he barely gave them a second glance.

As they giggled off down the sidewalk, Quinn turned back to look at Bailey. She was still engrossed in the newspaper, but pretty soon she’d start wondering where he was. He couldn’t remember feeling nervous about anything in his life, but his stomach was churning and his palms sweating.

Nothing had ever mattered as much as this did. He couldn’t afford to mess it up.

Telling himself to get a grip, Quinn strode the few steps to the door and pulled it open. He made a beeline for Bailey, but she didn’t look up until his shadow fell across the table. He glanced down at the newspaper and saw exactly what had captured her attention.

“Hello, Bailey.”

“Oh. Hi, Quinn.” She looked up at him, slammed the paper shut and then shot him a guilty grin, as if she’d been caught in a criminal act. “Have a seat.”

She failed dismally in sounding professional and he smiled knowingly as he unwrapped his thick scarf from around his neck. He folded and placed it over the back of the vacant chair, then peeled off his leather jacket and did the same with it. He didn’t think much about the act of doing so, but Bailey’s eyes widened as if he were some stripper in a male revue and her cheeks grew pink when he caught her looking. It appeared the attraction was still very much present for both of them and the knowledge pleased him immensely.

If Bailey thought she could fight this kind of chemistry, she had another think coming. If she thought he wasn’t going to be involved in his kid’s life, she needed her pretty little head read.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said. I would have been early except I was outside giving myself a hard-on by looking in at you. How was it possible to be angry with and attracted to someone at the same time?

She shook her head. “You’re not. You’re right on time.” She sounded surprised by this fact and he had an urge to reach out and tuck the hair that had fallen across her face behind her ear. Then to swipe his thumb across her forehead and smooth her creased brow.

Instead, he gestured to the closed newspaper between them. “Was that Aunt Bossy you were reading?” he asked, casually picking it up. He opened it exactly to that page and smiled down at the caricature of an old woman that topped his popular column—the image about as unlike him as you could get.

Bailey’s face turned a pale shade of green. “You know about Aunt Bossy?”

He shrugged one shoulder slowly as he leaned back in his seat. “Of course. Who doesn’t? I read her column every week. She sounds like a very wise woman, offers top-notch advice in my opinion.” He shut his mouth before she got suspicious about his effusive praise.

Now, in addition to her sickly pallor, panic danced in her eyes. “Really?” she whispered.

Yes, Bailey, I read the column and so does almost everyone else in Jewell Rock and all the surrounding regions.

Really, what had she been thinking sending such a letter? Did she think no one would recognize their situation? Their illicit night together might still be secret, but with the other clues she’d sown, it wouldn’t be too hard for anyone who knew them both to put two and two together. Especially once she started to show. That was if he chose to write a public reply, something he hadn’t decided yet.

This would be the perfect moment to come clean. He could add flippantly that if Aunt Bossy replied to her letter (and she didn’t have time to reply to every one she got), the answer wouldn’t appear until next week’s edition at the earliest, and then he’d watch as realization dawned.

Maybe he should just tell her the truth. Take the high ground and demand she marry him. But there were two major problems with that scenario: one, she’d know he was Aunt Bossy, and two, she’d refuse his proposal on the grounds he didn’t love her, but would start calling the shots anyway. Bailey didn’t excel at event planning for no reason; she was born a control freak and he wasn’t about to be pushed about by anyone. Not when his baby was involved.

The way he was playing things might be untoward, but he needed Bailey to confide in him on her own terms, or at least think she was.

While he deliberated, she recovered her shock and said, “I thought you only opened the paper for the sports news.”

It was supposed to be an insult and he felt it twist inside him like barbed wire, but he refused to let his hurt show. “Just goes to show you don’t know everything about me, Bailey Sawyer,” he said, his tone half amused, half suggestive.

Her eyes widened, color darkened her cheeks and for a second there he thought she was going to confess, but before she could say anything, a waitress with a badge announcing her as Daphne appeared at their table.

“Hey, y’all.” She obviously didn’t come from around here. “What can I get for you?”

Quinn looked to Bailey; Bailey looked to the waitress. “Can you give us a few more moments?”

All smiles, Daphne nodded and retreated. Bailey picked up the menu and Quinn did the same. It took him all of two seconds to decide on the chicken gorgonzola sandwich, but Bailey deliberated longer than she usually did over anything. He watched her brow furrowed in serious contemplation and wondered what she was thinking? Was she trying to work out if there was anything on the menu pregnant women shouldn’t eat? Or was she feeling queasy?

He’d been up half the night researching pregnancy on the internet, so he could have helped her make an informed decision, but as he’d already established he wasn’t ready to come clean, he sat patiently waiting while she made her choice. The second she put down her menu, Daphne swooped back to the table and smiled again, her pen poised over her pad ready.

“I’ll have the veggie frittata, please, and a Diet Coke,” Bailey said.

“Good choice.” The waitress scribbled, then looked to Quinn.

Before he could give his order, Bailey spoke again. “Actually, scrap the Diet Coke, I’ll have a club soda instead.”

He smiled his approval. She was doing everything she could to protect their baby. Including keeping him at a distance. This last thought killed his smile.

“Okay. Sure.” The waitress looked to Quinn. “And what can I get for you?”

Quinn ordered his sandwich and was glad when the other woman retreated. “Thanks for agreeing to meet me today,” he said, “especially on a weekend.” He stretched his legs out, pretending the brush against Bailey’s legs was accidental.

“It’s a pleasure,” she said, snapping her legs away from his, her cheeks reddening again. “Now, shall we get started?” Without waiting for a reply, she got out her notebook, diary and a pink pen and got straight down to business. “First things first. Have you got a date in mind?”

“Well, her birthday is March fifteenth, so I guess a weekend either side of that. What works best for you?”

Bailey stuck her pen between her teeth as she flicked through the pages of her diary. “We’ve got Saturday the eleventh or Saturday the eighteenth? I’m free either. Have you checked with...with your brothers and sisters yet?”

“Yep—I’ve spoken to everyone this morning. They’re really excited. And happy that you’re going to be involved.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Really? All of them?”

He reached across the table and took her hand—he could tell the action surprised her, but he didn’t retreat and neither did she. Her skin felt soft and her hand fit perfectly in his. “Yes. We all consider you part of the family. No one wants the fact that you’ve broken up with Callum to change that.”