Nicola Marsh - The Billionaire's Baby

He unfolded his arms to lean forward and place them on the table, way too close to hers, lowering his tone to match hers.

‘There’s been no one else for me, only you. It’s always been you,’ he murmured, sliding his hand to cover hers, his calloused palm rasping across her delicate skin and sending shivers shooting up her arm.

His heartrending statement hung in the air as waiters bustled around them, cake plates were whisked from kitchen to table, and the steady buzz of patrons filled the air along with the sound of muted jazz.

He leaned closer, his forearm brushing hers again, and she clenched her teeth to refrain from sighing with longing.

‘Look, you know I’m a stand-up guy, and I’m too old to play games, so I’ll give it to you straight. I want us to get to know each other again. Take our time. It can be dinner, a movie, another coffee, whatever. The ball’s in your court.’

She sat there, transfixed by the sincerity in his tone, by his guileless grey eyes, by the tiny spark of electricity arcing from his forearm to hers.

Was he for real?

Did he want to give them a second chance?

Or was this just one of those times where he was passing through Melbourne, found himself single, and thought he’d look up a former flame for old time’s sake?

She might be the ultimate city girl these days with the street savvy to match, but it was times like this she wondered if shy Cammie from Rainbow Creek came out to play, filling her with insecurities and doubts and self-recrimination.

A huge part of her wanted to shout yes to getting reacquainted, though she wasn’t that naïve. She may be singing the divorce tune, but spending even the shortest amount of time in Blane’s company in years had her hormones sitting up, taking notice, and screaming ‘take me, I’m still all yours’.

She’d never experienced with anyone else the kind of ‘in your face’ physical attraction they had, the kind that made her body go into meltdown with the slightest touch, the kind that could make a girl lose sight of how far she’d come, and lose sight of her goals.

And if there was one thing she’d learned after leaving her old life behind, it was to stay focused on her goals.

With that in mind she sat back, reclaiming her personal space and what was left of her common sense. ‘I didn’t want this meeting to be about us. I wanted to talk business.’

Disappointment clouded his eyes momentarily as he registered she hadn’t given him a direct response. To his credit, he took it like the man she knew him to be and slid his resident smile back into place, the one which crinkled his eyes adorably.

‘The way I see it, there’s not much to talk about. The guys filled me in on what you need, I’m your man. It’s that simple.’

Simple? Was the guy nuts?

There was nothing remotely simple about this, any of it. Having him turn up out of the blue, asking for a second chance, her desperation to get her renovations done…no, simple didn’t begin to describe the position she now found herself in.

‘But what if…’ She bit down on her bottom lip, unsure whether to be blunt and drive him away completely or ignore the giveaway pitter-patter of her heart whenever he smiled and remain focused on the business aspect of their dealings.

‘What if you don’t want to have anything to do with me personally but want to take advantage of me professionally?’

She blushed, not surprised he knew her so well. He’d always done that, finished her sentences, read her thoughts. After such a short time together, it shouldn’t have been that easy.

But it had been, which made it all the harder to ignore the tiny flicker of hope his proposal had elicited earlier.

Could they give their marriage a second chance?

At that moment a child at a nearby table let out a delighted squeal as a waiter placed a ‘frog in the pond’ in front of her, her blue eyes wide with wonder as she peered at the chocolate frog suspended in green jelly, and Camryn’s blood instantly chilled.

She watched, transfixed, as the little girl’s mother leaned over and gave her a sloppy smooch on her forehead while her father ruffled her mop of blonde curls, their love obvious—the complete, perfect family.

Something she could never have.

Something she’d had no idea how badly she’d wanted till the option had been taken away from her, cruelly wrenched bit by bit with every visit to the hospital in the years since she’d lost Blane, a stark reminder that everything that truly mattered to her was gone.

Her husband.

Her parents.

Her fertility.

While she’d learned to focus on her goals and block out the pain of loss, seeing Blane now, hearing him confirm she still meant something to him, only served to reinforce what she’d known since the last surgery: she couldn’t have kids, and it wouldn’t be fair on any man, particularly one she’d once loved as much as she’d loved him, to have to deal with that.

‘Hey, you okay? Sorry if I’ve come on a bit strong.’

He reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder, wrenching her attention back to him and away from the happy family scene tugging at her heartstrings.

Momentarily comforted by his touch before coming to her senses and realising she had no right to be, she gently shrugged off his hand on the pretext of reaching for her bag.

‘Look, can you give me some time to think about all this? I’ll get back to you about the project manager position.’

As if.

The moment she left this place she had no intention of ever getting in touch with him ever again.

Her nerves were flayed, her memories too poignant, her pain raw, and she couldn’t see any point in prolonging the inevitable: them parting ways for good.

He rummaged in his back pocket, pulled out his wallet, and handed her a business card, bearing his name, mobile number and email on rather plain but expensive cream cardboard.

‘Here’s where you can reach me. When you call.’

She managed a small smile at his confidence, took the card and slid it into the back pocket of her jeans, knowing she wouldn’t use it, wishing she could.

It was prevaricating like this that could get her into serious trouble, and she needed to get out of here before those sexy grey eyes with their blue flecks and endearing corner crinkles, along with accompanying ingenuous smile, undermined her completely.

‘I have to get going. It’s been a big day and I need to crash before starting all over again tomorrow.’

‘Sure.’

He slid several notes onto the table before she could reach for her purse, and he held up a hand when she opened her mouth to protest.

‘My shout. I asked you to come, I want to pay. Besides, you never know when I might need a snappy espresso fix again, and I want to keep the proprietor of that great place next door happy.’

‘Flattery will get you everywhere,’ she said, secretly thrilled by his chivalry in insisting on paying, remembering the old times they’d had to go Dutch because neither of them had a spare cent to their names.

‘Will it?’

‘What can I say? The café’s my baby.’

‘You have every right to be proud. It’s a great place.’

He took hold of her hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world, his touch warm and steady, infusing her with a sense of security she hadn’t known in a long time.

‘I know.’

This wasn’t a time for false modesty. She knew the Niche was fabulous, from its cosy corner, bearing low leather sofas in the softest fawn surrounded by comfortable matching ottomans and strategically placed fuchsia and turquoise bolster cushions, to the monstrous timber bar topped by stainless steel with its co-ordinated bar stools.

She loved every inch of the place, with its exquisite water views on one side, to the views of Melbourne’s city skyline on the other. She’d built it up from scratch, competing in a high-end hospitality market, and could now proudly say it held its own.