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Accidental Baby

Год написания книги
2018
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Accidental Baby
KIM LAWRENCE

The unexpected father! When Jo had problems, she always turned to Declan Rafferty. He was gorgeous, sexy and highly eligible - but to Jo he was simply her best friend. So, crying on his shoulder after a failed romance, Jo was shocked to find herself wanting more from Declan than friendly words of advice.She wanted him to make love to her - and he seemed to want the same! But their one stolen night had unexpected consequences. Jo was pregnant, and not at all sure how Declan would react! Declan, however, had no doubts at all. They would get married, for the baby's sake… .She's sexy, she's successful… and she's PREGNANT!

“I’m the father!” (#uab00b6f5-640d-5ae3-b8c3-532e7f45c286)She’s sexy, successful... and PREGNANT! (#u48cf2ce8-5d07-52ae-abb8-9f01e2b94b75)Title Page (#ue4eb56de-a119-5cab-b507-736cd0398253)CHAPTER ONE (#ud66a18cd-ff5a-5456-8467-d393442ef434)CHAPTER TWO (#u32639493-d9ba-552b-a295-a46ab473c44c)CHAPTER THREE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

“I’m the father!”

Jo nodded solemnly and willed the emotional tears not to fall. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Declan. I wanted to, but it’s not the sort of thing you can add as a postscript to a letter, is it?”

But her first instinct had been to call him. All she’d wanted was his arms around her, telling her it would be all right. Declan was always the person she ran to when she was in trouble.

“I won’t let you shut me out, Jo.”

“Whatever made you think I’d try? But we didn’t plan this. You didn’t want to become a father, at least not to my child. We can’t pretend we’re suddenly in love . . . . ”

She’s sexy, successful... and PREGNANT!

Relax and enjoy our new series of stories about spirited women and gorgeous men, whose passion results in pregnancies . . . sometimes unexpected! Of course, the birth of a baby is always a joyful event, and we can guarantee that our characters will become besotted moms and dads—but what happened in those nine months before?

Share the surprises, emotions, dramas and suspense as our parents-to-be come to terms with the prospect of bringing a new little life into the world . . . . All will discover that the business of making babies brings with it the most special love of all . . . .

Look out next month for:

The Unexpected Baby (#2040)

by Diana Hamilton

Accidental Baby

Kim Lawrence

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

CHAPTER ONE

LIAM RAFFERTY stared down at the sleeping figure beside him with a stunned expression. In a distracted manner he ran his fingers through his tousled dark hair. In profile her nose was tip-tilted and covered with a light sprinkling of freckles. Her long, dark eyelashes were tipped with gold and when her eyes opened he knew they would be deep green flecked with bronze.

When she woke . . . His fist went to his mouth and he bit back a groan. Abruptly the sleeping figure began to move, unfurling from the foetal position and rolling onto her back—arms above her head with her fingers pushed into the shoulder-length Titian-red tangle of curls that covered her small head. The sinuous undulations of her shm body caused the cotton sheet to slide down.

Liam, who had been about to do something sensible and decisive—like get some clothes on—paused. Not even the harshest critic could have found anything to criticise about her breasts, and Liam was by no means harsh. Her skin was milky pale and the light sprinkling of freckles over the uppermost curves was kind of cute. In the dark they’d just about fitted into the palm of—whoa, boy! He firmly shut off access to that particular memory.

Don’t panic, just think sensibly, calmly, he told himself firmly. Problem was the visual feast on offer was incredibly distracting. Would she wake if I just sort of pulled up the...? Too late! At least his eyes had been on her face when her sleepy eyes opened. If she’d caught him ogling!

A dreamy smile curved Jo Smith’s generous lips. ‘Hi, Liam,’ she murmured sleepily. She froze mid-stretch and her eyes opened to their fullest extent. ‘Liam?’ Her eyes ran down his bronzed torso and a strangled squeak escaped her lips. A firm, ‘We didn’t?’ was swiftly followed by a wail of, ‘We did!’

This was one of those situations, he reflected, when your imagination couldn’t prepare you for just how bad a situation was going to be. Despite his best intentions, Liam’s self-control slipped for just a second. It had been doing that a lot recently! Jo’s eyes followed the direction of his gaze and she snatched up the sheet and pulled it up to her chin, giving him the sort of look that made him feel like a defiler of purity.

‘Try and keep this in proportion, Jo. It’s not that bad.’

‘Not that bad!’ She went pink. Was he mad? This was worse than bad—this was a disaster.

‘I don’t blame you for hating me. I deserve it . . .’ he began miserably.

‘Don’t be stupid, I don’t hate you,’ she returned impatiently.

God, men could be so obtuse sometimes—even Liam. Couldn’t he see this changed everything? Things could never be the same again. They’d thrown away something precious and rare for a moment’s . . . The clarity of her thoughts lost a certain something as she honestly acknowledged it had taken more than a moment the first time, and as for the second! A tide of heat washed over her skin leaving it pink and tingling.

‘You don’t?’ That was something. He gave a sigh of relief, but the wariness in his blue eyes remained. ‘I wouldn’t blame you if you did,’ he continued, quite determined to shoulder full responsibility. ‘I took advantage of you when you were at your most vulnerable.’

‘The way I recall it I didn’t exactly fight you off with a stick,’ she responded drily.

Liam cleared his throat and his gaze slid away from hers. I knew it! she thought He can’t even look at me. God, what have we done? One crazy, stupid slip and a lifetime’s friendship goes down the toilet.

‘That’s not the point,’ he said stiffly. ‘I’m to blame.’

‘Have you any idea how ridiculous you sound, Liam Rafferty, talking like a character in a Victorian melodrama when you’re stark, staring naked?’ Even in her present state of agitation she couldn’t help giving an appreciative little sigh at how amazingly good his body actually was—her appreciation was purely aesthetic, of course. She wriggled into sitting position, bringing the thin cotton sheet around her like a tent.

‘For pity’s sake, Jo, I’m trying to say I’m sorry!’ he said, regarding her with growing irritation.

‘Charming!’ she replied, choosing to take exception to this apology.

‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning it was that awful, was it?’ Her lower lip quivered ever so slightly. ‘Was it?’ She silently cursed the note of anxiety that had crept into her voice.

‘You know it wasn’t, Jo.’ This time it was Jo who couldn’t maintain eye contact.

‘Right, good, excellent . . . ’ Briefly she closed her eyes in silent despair. What do I sound like?

The wooden bed-head creaked as Liam’s broad shoulders came to rest against it. ‘You’re not crying, are you, Jo?’

‘Of course I’m not crying!’ she returned, insulted that he could think she was that weak and wet. She’d always confidently denied the assertions of friends who said a man and woman couldn’t have a totally platonic relationship. Liam was her best friend; it was almost coincidental that he was a man. Circumstances had conspired to draw them together almost from birth: the proximity of their homes in rural East Anglia; the fact that their mothers had been school friends, and, whilst her father was the local vet, his was a successful horse-breeder. Leaving home and pursuing diverse careers hadn’t weakened the bond between them.

She felt his arm slide across the wooden frame just above her shoulders and then quite suddenly he withdrew it. That made her want to cry quite badly. Their friendship had always been a tactile one—that he had to think about touching her now and then decide not to was a sad reflection of the new shape of things. . .

‘It started with a hug,’ he reminded her gruffly.

He could still read her mind, then, some things didn’t change.

‘That bastard hurt you so much I wanted to make you feel better. Then what do I do?’ He hit his clenched fist into his open palm and the slapping sound made Jo jump.

He had made her feel better—very much better! ‘You were the one that tried to stop.’ She could feel her cheeks burning with mortification at the memory. ‘I wouldn’t let you. Don’t go all hair-shirty on me, Liam.’ I wonder if there are any buttons left on his shirt? She gulped as she recalled how she’d torn the garment off him.

‘A man doesn’t take advantage of a woman like that,’ he maintained stubbornly.

‘You’re a rat, heel, skunk. There—satisfied? Does it make you feel any better?’ she demanded tartly. ‘Are you going to let your urge to be noble ruin our friendship? It’s not as if we’re going to make a habit of this, is it?’ she pointed out practically.

I’m speaking rhetorically, she told herself. All the same, when his laughter came it was much too spontaneous for her taste. He could have at least pretended to think about it, she thought indignantly.
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