Married To The Mum-To-Be

He winced, like she’d struck a nerve. Then he reached out to cup her cheek. Kayla pulled back instinctively and he frowned as he dropped his hand. “Okay, I’ll leave you alone. Good night, Kayla.”

“Good night.”

Any other time he would have passionately kissed her good-night. Held her and touched her a while before he left. And she would have let him. But tonight felt different. There was more tension than usual between them. More unsaid words. More distance.

Then he was gone. Out of the apartment. Out of the building. And Kayla didn’t take a breath until she heard his footsteps going down the stairs.

Chapter Three (#u841d7ca3-3b13-5fa0-ac29-bb930d1f677b)

Alone in his bed hours after he walked out of Kayla’s apartment, Liam spent most of the night staring at the ceiling and twisting in sheets, longing for Kayla’s body beside him. The scent of her perfume seemed to haunt him like a ghost, reminding him that it had been close to a week since they’d spent the night under the same roof.

The huge, Western red cedar house seemed unusually quiet and all he could hear was the familiar sound of the river nearby and the rhythmic chorus of insects in the trees. He had the house built a couple of years ago on a three-acre block that was mostly forest and very private, with a long gravel driveway that was plowed regularly in the snow season. There was a stone path leading to the river and a jetty where he kept his pair of Jet Skis; the boat he was rebuilding was in the boathouse.

He sighed, opening his eyes, and then looked directly out the open window. The moonlight filtered light across the river and the water was eerily luminescent. From the roomy loft-style main bedroom he had a great view of the river. On warm summer nights he mostly left the window open and enjoyed the breeze that swept through the upper level. Liam inhaled deeply and the scent of jasmine in the air reminded him of Kayla.

Everything reminded him of Kayla.

The air, the sheets...every damned thing.

His gut was in knots. Today they would find out if she was pregnant. The idea intensified his love for her tenfold. He wanted children and he wanted them with her. He knew what this would do to her family and perhaps his own. But with the idea that they were going to be parents now firmly etched into his mind, Liam didn’t care. They would have to deal with it, or deal out. Kayla and the baby she might be carrying were the only things that mattered.

He closed his eyes and imagined her belly round with his child. Her beauty would be amplified, her skin would glow, her breasts would be fuller. Then he remembered her pale, smooth skin and her perfect breasts and how they’d fit in his hands, and immediately his palms itched and his groin ached.

Liam groaned, sat up and swung his legs off the side of the big bed. He checked the clock on the bedside table. Three fifteen. He grabbed his phone and stood, pulling on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt, and then headed downstairs.

The cat, a scruffy-looking black-and-white stray he’d randomly named Peanuts, which had turned up on his doorstep the week after he’d moved in, began meowing the moment he was spotted on the stairs. The cat always slept in a basket by the big fireplace, summer or winter. Liam had no real feelings about the feline one way or another. But he kept it fed and housed and had even installed a cat flap in the back door so it could come and go as it pleased. It did seem to stay more than leave, no doubt due to the comfy bed and endless supply of kibble.

He flicked on a couple of lights and headed for the huge galley-style kitchen. The Shaker-style cupboards were crafted from local ponderosa pine and the countertops were dark gray marble. The double ceramic sink and stainless-steel appliances were all top-of-the-line and mostly imported. Like with everything in the home, no expense was spared. From the cedar floorboards, Spanish-glass light fittings and handcrafted furniture, it was a showpiece. But Liam had no illusions—it was a house, not a home.

It needed a family in it. When Kayla was there it felt full, complete and real. When she wasn’t, there was only him, using the bare minimum of the rooms, just the kitchen and den, main bedroom and bathroom. There were three other bedrooms downstairs and a media room and a small home office. He’d built a house for a family he didn’t have, imagining that one day he’d fill it with a wife and a few children. That had been his plan a year ago... He’d intended to find a suitable woman and settle down. And then a certain blonde had crashed into his car and completely derailed his life.

She was so beautiful. Tall and slender, but surprisingly curvy, with a glorious mane of golden blond hair she rarely allowed anyone to see styled in anything other than a tightly coiled bun. But Liam had seen it out and falling down the length of her back countless times. He’d fisted handfuls of her tresses to expose her perfectly smooth throat. He’d run his hands through her hair as they’d lain together on the big bed upstairs, intimately entwined, unsure where one began and the other finished, kissing and touching and making love.

He shook off the memory and made green tea. Another habit from his five-month relationship with Kayla. She was a strict vegetarian and believed in healthy eating, admonishing his proclivity for strong black coffee and leftover pizza for breakfast. It made him smile and he sipped the tea as he headed for the living room.

The cat was still meowing and began curling around his ankles. He gave the animal a pat, drank some more tea and dropped into one of the big leather sofas, then stared at the cold fireplace. In winter the room was cozy, despite its size. Liam placed the tea on the side table, relaxed his head against the leather and closed his eyes.

And didn’t wake up until seven thirty.

By ten past eight he was showered and dressed, and was turning the ignition in the Silverado.

He made a call to Connie at the hotel saying he wouldn’t be in until the afternoon, ignoring the question about his whereabouts, and then headed off down the driveway. He pulled up outside Kayla’s apartment at eight twenty-five and spotted her by the front door before he had a chance to shut down the truck. A man was with her and Liam instinctively scowled. Her landlord. He was a lanky, disheveled looking geek who he’d spoken to a couple of times and didn’t like one bit. In his opinion the other guy was a little too friendly toward Kayla. He put the vehicle in Park and got out, striding around the other side as she waved goodbye to the other man and then made her way down the paved path. She looked tired and he figured she’d probably had as little sleep as he had. She wore a pale blue dress that buttoned high up the front and fell just above her knees and made her long legs look sensational. He experienced the usual ripple of attraction that wound its way up his spine. He smiled when she reached the vehicle.

“Good morning,” he said easily. “Sleep okay?”

“Like a log,” she replied and they both knew she was lying through her teeth.

They’d parted badly the night before. He’d lost his temper with her, something he loathed doing. “I’m sorry about last night... I should have called first. Or I should have—”

“Forget about it,” she said quietly. “Let’s just get this done. So, how did you sleep?” she asked as he opened the passenger door.

“Barely a wink,” he said as she got into the truck.

Once he was back in the driver’s seat she spoke again. “I woke up at about quarter past three.”

As he did. “Me, too,” he admitted. “Although I did manage to catch another few hours on the couch.”

“You’re lucky. But my couch isn’t as comfortable as yours.”

He recalled her lumpy sofa that she’d picked up at a yard sale. She loved antiquities and old wares and her home was spotted with pieces of furniture she’d salvaged and restored. He’d never done any sleeping on her couch, but they’d done a whole lot of loving.

“If I recall correctly you have a comfortable bed.”

Color pinched her cheeks. After everything they had been to one another, she still blushed around him. “Comfy enough,” she said and clutched the tote she carried. “We should get going.”

“Not yet,” he said and wound his hand around her nape and drew her close.

“What are you doing?” she asked, pulling back a little.

“Kissing my wife,” he replied and claimed her lips possessively.

It took about three seconds for her to respond and Liam smiled against her mouth. They could fight. They could disagree. They could spend time apart. She could give him every excuse under the sun as to how difficult it was for them to be together. But the attraction and feeling between them was undeniable. Her lips parted invitingly and he deepened the kiss, slanting his mouth over her own, finding her tongue and drawing it gently between his teeth. Kissing Kayla was like trying to quench a thirst...it was never enough, never deep enough, never hot enough, never intense enough.

“Liam,” she said breathlessly, suddenly dragging her lips from his. “Would you please stop? Someone could see us and—”

“Like who?” he demanded and threaded his fingers through her hair. “Your neighbors? Your geeky landlord, who I’m pretty sure has got the hots for you?”

She pulled away and straightened in the seat. “That’s ridiculous. Dane is my friend, that’s all.”

Liam settled in front of the steering wheel and strapped on the seat belt. “I still don’t like him.”

Kayla huffed out a breath. “Would you stop acting like a jealous—”

“A jealous husband?” Liam shot back, cutting her off as he started the engine. “That’s what I am, remember? Your husband.”

She pulled her tote onto her lap. “I know who and what you are. And I know that since the moment I told you I might be pregnant you’ve been behaving like a real jerk.”

* * *

Kayla was mad. Things were complicated enough without Liam making it worse by having some kind of macho freak-out about her landlord. She glared at him and then turned her head to stare out of the front window. It wasn’t the first time he’d mentioned he thought Dane had a crush on her, although she’d always laughed it off before. But not today. She was too wound up to find the humor in his words.

She glanced at his left hand and noticed he was wearing his wedding ring, while her own finger felt shamefully bare. The platinum-and-diamond band was in her purse, wrapped in a tissue and tucked away for safekeeping. But Liam always seemed to wear his when they were alone together. It irked her a little. And guilted her, too. He acted more like a husband than she did a wife.

Deep down, she knew all his arguments about telling their parents—especially now—were right. But she couldn’t get over her fear that it would be like adding one final splash of gasoline to the pile of wood. And that news of a Rickard-O’Sullivan pregnancy would hardly do anything to defuse that blast. She’d been awake all night worrying—

“Is there any place in particular you’d like to go?” he asked, his voice jerking her back into the present. “Maybe try to get in to see a doctor?”

Her head snapped sideways. “No doctors. Just a drugstore. If the result is positive from the test then I’ll go and see my own physician once...once...you know...”