One-Night Pregnancy

She recalled the way he’d taken her back inside the shed and helped her into the voluminous coveralls, how they’d laughed a little together as she’d all but drowned in them. How he’d kissed her and told her it had to be an improvement on a horse rug.

Then they’d used a double harness to winch them up—he had seemed to know all about it, and also to know one of the crew—and she’d gone up in his arms.

He’d kissed her again when they were safely inside the helicopter, and she’d sat squashed up against him as it had risen and flown, squashed and in his arms, so her erratic heartbeats had normalised and she’d felt safe because they were his arms.

‘Will you ever get over the woman who left you for your brother?’

He looked down at her, and there was something like compassion in his eyes that hurt her very much.

‘I have got over her. It’s my brother—but it’s more than that. I’m far too old for you.’ He stilled her sudden movement. ‘In experience, in the kind of life I’ve lived, and in the far too many women I’ve loved. What you need is someone with no murky past, who can share an optimistic future with you.’

‘And if I don’t want—?’

‘Bridget,’ he cut in, and released her hand to wipe away the tears that sparkled on her lashes with his thumbs. ‘If there’s one thing you can take away with you, it’s this: you were gorgeous in bed, and don’t let any guy with an oversize ego tell you otherwise. You be selective, now, and make sure you give the men who are not good enough for you the flick.’ He brushed away another tear and picked up her hand as his lips quirked. ‘Incidentally, I’m one of those.’

‘But I loved being in bed with you,’ she whispered brokenly.

‘There’s a lot more to it than that.’ He turned his head as an ambulance drove up and parked beside the helicopter. ‘Your limo has arrived, Mrs Smith.’ He raised her hand and kissed her knuckles again. ‘So it’s time to say goodbye. Take this with you.’

He rummaged in a seat pocket until he came up with a pencil and piece of paper, upon which he wrote a telephone number.

‘If you need me, Bridget—’ his eyes were completely serious now ‘—in case of any unplanned…consequences, this number will always get a message to me.’

Bridget took the piece of paper, but she couldn’t see what was written on it. Her eyes were blurred with tears. Then it came to her that there were two ways she could do this. As a tearful wreck, or…

‘And if you need me,’ she said, dashing at her eyes as she raised her hand beneath his to kiss his knuckles, ‘you know where to find me.’

They stared into each other’s eyes until he said, very quietly, ‘Go, Bridget.’ His expression changed to harsh and controlled as a nerve flickered in his jaw, and he added, ‘Before you live to regret it.’