Mistresses: The Consequences Of Desire: Beach Bar Baby / Walk on the Wild Side / Claiming His Own

He dropped his hands, having to concede that point. ‘Fine, you win that one, but conversations about sex are off limits, okay?’ The last thing he needed was some snot-nosed kid giving him dating advice.

‘Okay, truce.’ She surprised him by backing down. ‘I’ll butt out of your business. You’re a hopeless cause anyway.’ She sighed, to emphasise the point. ‘I didn’t come here to argue with you, I came to tell you Taylor and I want to set the date for August tenth. If you’re good with us using your land to do the ceremony on the cove near the Runner?’

‘Sure, of course, no problem,’ he said, feeling about two feet tall all of a sudden. He hadn’t meant to piss on her parade; the wedding announcement had just come as a shock, that was all. How the heck had Josie grown up without him noticing?

‘I also wanted to ask you to be my witness,’ she added. ‘If you think you can contain your horror long enough to sign the book?’ The shadow of uncertainty in her gaze shaved another foot off his stature. Hell, he hadn’t meant to be that much of a grouch.

‘You sure you want the Oldest Player in Town there?’ he murmured, relieved when she sent him a cheeky grin.

‘Only if he promises not to hit on the bridesmaids.’

The thought of hitting on anyone brought back thoughts of Ella. And the pang of regret sliced under his ribs. She had to be long gone by now.

He raised his hand as if taking a mock oath. ‘I do solemnly swear not to hit on the bridesmaids.’

‘Cool, we’re all set, then.’ Josie grinned, then planted a kiss on the tip of his nose. ‘I’ll keep you posted on the wedding plans. I better hit the road, though.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘You have no idea how much work goes into organising a wedding in under four months.’

And he didn’t want to know, he thought silently, but decided to keep that information to himself.

‘Oh, by the way,’ she said as she reached the door. ‘Sleeping Beauty left you a message before she ran off.’

‘Yeah?’ The bubble of hope expanded under his breastbone. ‘What message? Did she tell you where she’s staying?’ Maybe if she had, he could give her a call? Get Inez to make a fresh batch of French toast, or better yet some lunch?

Josie shook her head. ‘She just said to tell you thanks.’

‘That’s it?’ The bubble of hope deflated, making his voice sound flat and dull.

Josie nodded, her expression thoughtful as she studied him. ‘If you wanted to contact her, Henry might know where she’s staying if she was at the Runner last night. You know how talkative he is.’

‘No, that’s okay, it’s no big deal,’ he replied, and willed himself to believe it.

‘Are you sure?’

He forced out a laugh. ‘Sure, I’m sure. Not my style.’ He didn’t get hung up on women, even ones as cute and sexy as Ella. ‘Oldest Player in Town, remember?’

Josie rolled her eyes again. ‘Oh, yeah. How could I forget?’

But after Josie had left, and he had dumped the ruined breakfast spread in the trash and collapsed onto the bed, the joke nickname didn’t seem all that funny any more. Especially when he got a lungful of the light, refreshing, lemony scent and the earthy smell of sex that still lingered on the sheets.

SIX (#uc7b533c5-be73-5780-b283-1d1b0d6cff9e)

Ella plucked the tray of Triple Indulgence Brownies out of the industrial oven and dropped it gingerly on the counter—her tummy hitching up towards her throat as the aroma of melting chocolate surrounded her. The rich decadent scent tasted like charcoal on her tongue. Clasping her hand over her mouth, she sliced the brownies into twelve chunks, perched the tray on the window sill to cool, and rushed into the café, her stomach wobbling alarmingly.

Taking deep, measured breaths, she berated herself and her stupid nervous tummy as she stacked the batch of mini-chocolate tarts she’d made earlier—which thankfully didn’t smell too strongly. Ruby would be here any minute and the last thing she needed was more searching looks and probing questions from her business partner—because she’d barfed all over the shop again.

She’d been tense and out of sorts for weeks. Ever since she’d got back from Bermuda and got the diagnosis she’d been dreading from her doctor, Myra Patel. That she was no longer ovulating at regular intervals—which explained the now five months without a period—because the onset of premature menopause was now a reality.

But she thought she’d come to terms with it. Or at least found a strategy to deal with her loss. Even though her biological clock was now ticking at triple time—and Myra had told her that her chances of conceiving naturally were probably remote, and getting remoter by the second—she had referred her to a specialist. Plus she and Ruby had discussed the feasibility of other options, when and if she found a life partner.

The good news was, after her wild night with Coop, there was every reason to be a lot more cheerful about her prospects when it came to relationships. Or at least sexual relationships.

Coop.

Her stomach clutched and released, the queasiness returning.

Maybe it was about time she admitted that her fertility problems weren’t the only thing that had had her down in the dumps? That her nervous stomach wasn’t just a symptom of her stress over the test results she’d got from Myra two months ago, but also her ridiculous overreaction to her one night with Cooper Delaney.

Somehow, she’d got fixated on him, picking over every minute detail of their day and night together—instead of assigning the experience to its rightful place in her past, and moving on with her real life.

So what if he’d disappeared the following morning, without leaving a note to say where he’d gone? They’d had a one-night fling. He’d owed her nothing. They lived thousands of miles apart, and he was only twenty-eight, for goodness’ sake. Not that their age difference had bothered him... Then again, maybe it had, more than he’d let on. Could that be why he’d disappeared so abruptly? Before she’d even woken up? Without bothering to say goodbye?

She folded the oven mitt she’d used into the drawer and slammed it shut.

Stop right there, you’re doing it again.

The hollow feeling of inadequacy opened up in her stomach, and the weary ache in her chest pinched her heart.

Maybe if she had left him a note...

She sighed and glanced up to see Ruby and Cal standing together on the pavement outside the shop—bidding each other goodbye as they did every morning before Cal headed for the tube station and his work as a top defence barrister in the City. The hollow weight became a gaping hole as she watched them.

Ruby threw her head back and laughed at something her husband had said. Callum said something else, that seemed to make her laugh more, but then he gripped the lapels of her coat and jerked her up onto her tiptoes, before silencing the laughter with a hungry kiss.

Ella felt the nasty dart of envy as Ruby’s arms wrapped around Cal’s neck to pull him closer. The kiss heated to scorching, Cal’s hands finding Ruby’s bottom beneath the hem of her coat. Anyone passing by would have mistaken them for newlyweds, instead of a couple who had recently celebrated their seventh wedding anniversary and had three very energetic children ranging in age from two to six.

Ella dropped her chin, and concentrated on rearranging the cookies on the display, feeling like a Peeping Tom as the nausea pitched and rolled in her belly. The doorbell tinkled, then the creak of the café door opened and slammed shut followed by the click of Ruby’s stilettos on the tiled floor.

‘Sorry I’m late. I’ll close up today to make up for it.’ Ruby’s voice sounded upbeat and pleasantly mellow, as it often did first thing in the morning. Ella frowned, dusting icing sugar over the tarts. Hard to remember now that her business partner had once been the biggest grump on the planet until she’d downed at least two cups of coffee in the morning, but that was before her fender bender with Callum Westmore nearly eight years ago.

‘That man sweet-talked me back into bed,’ Ruby added with a huff. ‘After Helga picked up the kids.’

‘Poor you,’ Ella muttered under her breath, then bit her lip to contain the sour note of sarcasm, and the bile rising up her throat.

What was the matter with her? She’d always been so happy for Ruby and Cal. It wasn’t as if their path to true love had exactly been smooth. And as for Max and Ally and Art, Ruby and Cal’s three irrepressible children, she adored them. And adored having a special place in their lives as their favourite ‘auntie’. That relationship would only become more treasured if the possibility of a childless future became a reality.

‘Ella, is everything okay?’

She put down the icing sugar to find Ruby watching her. Far too closely. Oh, no. Had she just heard that cutting remark? How was she supposed to explain it? ‘Yes, of course...’

‘Are you sure? You’re a rather strange colour.’

‘Really, I’m perfectly—’ The gag reflex struck without warning, punching Ella’s larynx and slamming her stomach into her throat. She slapped her hand over her mouth, and raced around the counter and into the restroom—getting there just in time to lose in the toilet the tea and dry toast she’d managed to force down that morning for breakfast.

* * *

‘Okay, deep breaths.’ Ruby rubbed Ella’s spine as the nausea retreated. The cool cloth felt glorious on the back of her neck as she dragged in several deep breaths.

‘How’s your stomach? All finished puking?’