Nicola Marsh - His Little Miracle - The Billionaire's Baby

‘One coffee then you’re out of here. Take it or leave it.’

‘I’ll take it.’

‘Fine. Choose your poison and make it snappy.’

He grinned as he rocked back on his heels, hands thrust into pockets, confident he’d wear her down.

As if.

‘You sure have a way with customers.’

‘You’re not a customer, you’re my…’ She trailed off, not wanting to go there. She’d shut the door on the past, why open it and risk the future she’d worked so hard to build?

‘Go on, say it. I’m your?’

‘You know,’ she bit out, sending him a withering glare that made little impact if his widening grin was any indication. ‘You better order that coffee before I renege and bundle you out of here right this very minute.’

He chuckled, and rather than it riling her, she could barely clamp down on the urge to join in.

He’d always done this: made her laugh, made her see the lighter side of any situation—a genuine glass-half-full kind of guy. She’d loved that about him. She’d loved many things about him, which had made it all the harder to get over him.

Gritting her teeth, she prompted again, ‘Coffee?’

‘The usual, please.’

‘Coming right up.’

She swivelled on her heel, realising her mistake a second too late. Now he’d know she remembered how he preferred his coffee. Not a great start to showing him how she’d got over him.

The gentle hand on her shoulder pulled her up, her body’s reaction to his innocuous touch totally flummoxing.

‘Cam, I just want to say hello to some guys I know, and I’ll be back in a moment.’

Amusement sparked in the depths of his grey eyes, as if he were privy to some private joke, before he dropped his hand and turned away, leaving her flustered, confused and staring at a very fine butt.

Hearing him call her Cam resurrected memories of the way he’d breezed into Rainbow Creek one sunny Saturday morning, strolled into her parents’ coffee shop, took one look at her name badge and said, ‘I’ll have an espresso, please, Cam’ with a twinkle in his eye and a smile on his boyish face.

She’d been a goner, instantly falling head over heels for the laid-back, nomadic builder who’d taken a piece of her heart along with a huge chunk of her pride when he’d left.

As for that butt…tight, firm, filling out the seat of his worn denim very nicely, thank you very much…oh, no, she wouldn’t dwell on how long it had been since she’d admired it, gripped it…

‘No, no, no,’ she muttered, grabbing the end of her French braid and fiddling with the elastic, hoping her plait hadn’t unravelled along with her common sense.

Valentine’s Day had really got to her, and, calling the chubby cherub some rather nasty names under her breath, she marched across the café and slid behind the bar.

One espresso, extra-strong, two sugars, and laid-back Blane with the twinkly eyes and charming smile could take his sexy butt and hightail it out of here, leaving her to do what she did best: run the best damn café in Melbourne.

‘Hey, how’re the plans coming along?’

Blane slid into a chair next to the two guys who were helping him turn his dream into a reality.

An adjunct to his dream, he thought, as his glance flicked to the bar, drawn to the sassy brunette paying an inordinate amount of attention to the espresso machine.

She’d changed so much.

Her short spikes had gone, replaced by a long plait hanging halfway down her back, the three ear studs were down to one, and the lean body he remembered all too well had morphed into curves. Eye-catching, gorgeous curves he couldn’t take his eyes off.

Though the biggest change was her personality. Gone was the impressionable, spontaneous girl he’d known and loved and in her place, a blunt, confident woman who had no qualms about declaring how unwelcome he was.

Not that he expected any less. For what he’d put them both through he deserved it.

But there hadn’t been a choice, and, glancing around the café, her dream a reality, and back to her deftly making his coffee just the way he liked it, he knew he’d done the right thing.

Besides, she might act as if he was as welcome as a cockroach at her café, but there’d been something about the way her brown eyes had sparked when she’d seen him, the way she’d reacted to his touch…it had given him hope.

‘See for yourself.’ Dirk, the cabinetmaker, pushed the plans across to him. ‘The architect’s made changes to the guest bedrooms, as you requested, and we’ve run with the new specifications. What do you think?’

He studied the tiny straight lines, the numbered annotations, and ruffled the hair at his nape, a habit he’d acquired while labouring over countless financial reports during the years it had taken BA Constructions to become a rival of the biggest guns in Australia’s building industry.

‘Looks okay to me.’

The pungent aroma of freshly brewed coffee, strong and bittersweet, drew his attention away from the plans and back to the bar where Cam was placing a steaming cup on a saucer.

He studied her with the same focus he’d shown for the plans, noting the tendrils escaping her plait, curling in defiance around her heart-shaped face, the high cheekbones, the mouth a tad on the full side to be strictly beautiful.

His gaze drifted lower to a funky, bright top whose colour defied logic but blended perfectly with the colour scheme of the place—all bright pinks and blues and golds—to the hint of cleavage which resurrected memories of how she’d felt in his hands, the sounds she’d made the first time he’d touched her…

A short, shrill whistle interrupted his journey down erotic lane, and his gaze snapped up to meet hers—questioning, daring, challenging, as if she’d caught him checking her out and was calling him on it—as she crooked a finger at him and pointed to the steaming espresso on the bar.

‘I told you Cam’s great. Serves the best coffee this side of the Yarra. Mike and I always come here for meetings.’

‘So you said.’

Blane couldn’t thank Dirk enough for letting slip this vital bit of information when he’d arrived in Melbourne a week ago. He’d barely begun his search for her when he’d found her, and, now that he had, he had no intention of letting her slip away.

As for the guys telling him she needed a project manager for renovations on her apartment, it had been a stroke of pure luck.

He’d been hell-bent on barging in here the minute he’d discovered her whereabouts, but once he’d discovered that particular titbit of information, he’d bided his time over the week, knowing she’d be more responsive to him on a professional rather than personal level.

Not that he intended to keep the status quo that way for long.

‘Back in a sec.’

Pushing his chair back, he headed for the bar, deliberately slowing his stride when in fact he felt like sprinting. In all honesty, if she whistled and crooked her finger at him again with that ‘come and get it’ look in her eye, he’d probably do a mean pole-vaulting impression over the bar, too.

‘Here you go. One extra-snappy espresso.’

She pushed the cup towards him, the saucer sliding across the squeaky-clean steel bar.

‘You only made it snappy so you can get rid of me.’

Her wry smile did little to detract from the cheeky gleam in her eyes. ‘Well, looks like you haven’t lost your mind-reading abilities.’

‘I guess not. Care to test me out?’

She shook her head and laughed, the familiar low chuckles sending warmth spiralling through him. ‘Trust me, you don’t want to know what’s going through my head right now.’

‘Says who?’

The laughter died on her glossed lips, the same startling shade as her top, as she inched his coffee towards him with a decisive push of her finger.