Louisa George - A Baby on Her Christmas List

He’d been honest and open and warm. And since then she’d stood with pride at his graduation, cheered him on the sidelines at rugby games, dragged him kicking and screaming to ballet performances and musical theatre, entirely happy with what he’d had to give her. Just a simple, uncomplicated friendship.

But now his eyes roved her face and then his gaze dipped to where her hand was over her breast. Suddenly she felt a little exposed and hot again under his scrutiny. She kept her eyes focused on the top of his head but eventually he looked back at her as if he was going to speak. A flash of something rippled through those ocean-blue eyes. Something that connected with her, something more than warm, which made her belly clutch and her cheeks burn. Heat prickled through her, intense and breath-sapping.

Her fingers ached to just reach out and touch his cheek. Just touch it. To see what his skin felt like. To feel his breath on her face. Her mouth watered just looking at his lips. Open a little. Just a little … Her breath hitched. He was so close. His familiar scent of male and fresh air wrapped around her like a blanket.

Close enough to—

He shook his head as if confused and disorientated. Then he shifted away and focused on the remainder of his food. Meanwhile, she breathed out slowly, trying to steady her ridiculously sputtering heartbeat. Had she imagined that flash of heat? Those feelings?

Yes.

It was all just her stupid clunky imagination.

She would rather die than ask him and be laughed at … or worse. That kind of conversational subject was explicitly off limits and would only cause tension. It was bad enough that she’d created this difficult atmosphere in the first place. But now, to … Oh, my God. The thought flitted into her brain and rooted itself there, so obvious, so immense, so downright out of this world … No. Surely not. She didn’t. Couldn’t.

She fancied him? Fancied the pants off Liam MacAllister? The guy she’d got drunk with, thrown up on, told her deepest dirty secrets to? She wanted to kiss him? Really? Truly? Her heart thudded with a sinking realisation. Things between them were complicated enough, not least because he was going halfway across the world in less than twenty-four hours and she had no idea when she would see him next.

She couldn’t want him, and he certainly wouldn’t want her, especially with a baby in tow. Not now. Not ever. End of.

Hell, no.

Georgie was wearing a soft white lacy bra.

That was all Liam could think of. Not how amazing it was that she was pregnant. Although that was pretty amazing. Foolish and foolhardy and well beyond his comprehension too. But she did have a kind of warm glow about her, a softness he’d never seen before. He was no longer even registering how far beyond stupid she’d been to race along the pavement on two thin wheels when anything could have happened to her.

No, the only thing that took up room in his thick head was that her small perfect breasts were covered in lace.

As she leaned forward to take another hot chip, her top gaped a little more and he caught a glimpse of dark nipples. Cream skin. He swallowed. Dragged his gaze away and looked out at the boats bobbing on the turquoise water. What the hell was wrong with him?

Why, when he needed to put distance between them, had that whole concept suddenly become too hard to contemplate? He’d gone from not thinking about her in that way to not being able to stop thinking about her in the matter of a few weeks. He’d kept away, making excuses not to see her, just to get his head around everything. And it had failed spectacularly because the moment she’d told him she was getting on a saddle he’d thundered down here with a distinct determination to convince her not to. He’d always teased her, had fun with her, joked around with her, but never until now had he had this need to protect her. Even if it was from herself.

And he was damned sure it wasn’t just because she was pregnant. But he wished to hell it was. Because that was none of his business. Because that he could distance himself from.

Couldn’t he?

Man, his life was changing in a direction that was beyond his control and it was taking a lot of getting used to. His life, yes. But another life, a new life, was growing inside her and he was struggling to get past that.

After finishing her dinner and crinkling up the paper into a tight ball, she spoke. ‘You didn’t have to sneak into the clinic during my lunch hour, you know. I would have given you some space.’

‘It just didn’t feel right.’ He looked everywhere but at her. The finer details of how he’d provided the sperm were definitely not for this conversation. Even more, he’d really not wanted to alert her to the fact he’d been in her workplace, doing the deed in a side room. ‘Man, they ask a lot of questions.’

‘Tell me about it. They always ask a heap of stuff about your parents too. Any genetic conditions, inherited diseases. Has either parent had cancer, heart problems, high blood pressure? It kills me just a little bit to not know. In some ways it’s a whole clean slate and I don’t know about any inherited illnesses that may be hanging over my head. But in other ways it’s a jigsaw, trying to piece bits together.’ She shrugged, trying for nonchalance, but Liam knew just how much she’d ached to know just something about her mum and dad. ‘I don’t even know who I got my eye colour from, for God’s sake.’

He wanted to say it didn’t matter. Because even if you did know who your parents were, it didn’t mean a damned thing. It sure as hell didn’t mean they loved you. Or maybe that was just his. But, then, how could he blame them? ‘Well, at least you know little Nugget there will have big beautiful blue ones, to break the girls’ hearts.’

‘Or brown. She could have my brown ones.’ She glanced over at him with a curious look and he immediately regretted mentioning any kind of pet name. He was not going to get involved. He would not feel anything for this baby. Which was currently only a collection of cells, not a baby at all. Not really.

His chest tightened. Who was he trying to fool? He could barely look at Georgie without imagining what was growing in her belly.

Who. Who was growing in her belly. His baby. He was going to be a father. And what had seemed such a simple warm-hearted gesture to help out a friend a few weeks ago had taken on a whole new meaning. This was real. This was happening. She was having his baby.

For a moment he allowed himself the luxury of the thrill of that prospect, let the overpowering innate need to protect overwhelm him.

Then he remembered a very long time ago, as a young boy of eight, the excitement deep in his heart as he’d felt a baby’s kick. His hand on a swollen bump. The soft, cooing voice. A new life.

Then it was gone.

Ice-cold dread stole across him like a shadow. It didn’t matter how far you ran, your nightmares still caught up with you.

He quickly tried to focus on something else. ‘So, plans for the weekend? After the bungee is it whitewater rafting? Paragliding? How about base jumping? All perfectly suitable under the circumstances.’

‘First I thought I’d go running with the bulls, then perhaps a little heli-skiing.’ She threw the rolled-up paper ball at him. Missed. Completely. ‘Idiot!’

He threw it back at her. ‘Bingo. On the head. Your aim is appalling.’

‘Show-off!’ She threw it towards him. Missed by a mile. Went to grab it. He reached it first and held it high above her head. Way out of her reach. She jumped to get it. Failed. Jumped again. Then she playfully poked him in the stomach so he flinched. ‘Ouch!’

‘Yes! Got it.’

He grabbed her arms and pulled her into a hug. Tickled her ribs until she yelped for mercy. Felt the soft heat of her breath on his skin. The way she moulded into him. Warm. ‘Play fair.’