His Little Miracle: The Billionaire's Baby

Oh, no. No, no, no.

Dinner would involve sitting across from him, staring into those intriguing grey eyes, seeing them crinkle every time he smiled—which was way too often—and trying not to fall under his spell.

Blane was charm personified, and if seeing him for barely thirty minutes had her in this much of a dither, what hope would she have of spending an entire evening with him and coming out unscathed, resolve intact, at the end of it?

‘I’d rather just pay you.’

She busied herself with making the coffee, injecting the right amount of nonchalance into her voice, hoping he’d accept her subtle brush-off.

‘It’s dinner or I take you to the consumer affairs board for non-payment.’

‘You’re kidding?’

Of course he was, those adorable crinkles on full display as she sent him a look of disbelief.

He shrugged, his smile not waning. ‘Maybe. Though it is a non-negotiable deal. Dinner. You and me. You choose the place, seeing as you’re insisting on paying, though I have to tell you, having you shout me a meal doesn’t sit well with me.’

‘Why? Used to being the macho male, huh?’

‘Used to being the polite male who likes to treat his wife right.’

His low, husky tone left her in little doubt as to how well he would treat her, and in that instant she made one of those split-second decisions she’d probably regret later but couldn’t resist now.

‘Okay, dinner it is.’

‘Great. Tomorrow night suit?’

She opened her mouth to fob him off with some lame excuse about checking her diary, before snapping it shut.

He’d been nothing but helpful, courteous and lovely to her, and if all he expected in return was dinner, she’d be churlish not to oblige.

Who was she kidding? Dinner wasn’t all he was expecting—far from it. He wanted her, as his wife, a concept fast losing its initial lack of appeal.

‘Sounds good.’

She picked up the cocktail shaker and shook it as if her life depended on it, the jumbled contents whirling around in similar fashion to her chaotic emotions.

Accepting his offer had her torn between dancing through the café while singing out loud and running to the storeroom out back to hide for the next month.

‘Are you going to pick me up?’

His teasing smile warmed her heart as she poured his coffee into a tall glass and handed it to him.

‘Thought we’d already got past that point the other night?’

He laughed and raised his glass to her. ‘I didn’t pick you up. I asked my wife out.’

There he went again with the wife thing.

Okay, so he was right; technically she was still his wife, but that was all it was, a technicality. A fact that could be easily remedied, would be easily remedied if he’d stop smiling at her for two seconds so she could muster her resolve to not let him back in her life again.

Feigning a nonchalance she didn’t feel, she shrugged. ‘Same diff.’

Taking a sip, he sighed his appreciation. ‘You’re splitting hairs. Or should that be coffee beans?’

Laughing, she sipped her doppio, savouring the strong, hot rush of caffeine. ‘Fine. I’ll swing by your place. Make this a real equal-opportunity dinner date.’

‘Nothing sexier than a chivalrous woman.’

He winked and her heart turned over, beating a hundred miles a minute as she sent him a tremulous smile which hopefully covered the fact she was a quivering mess of nerves inside.

He thought she was sexy.

He was flirting with her in a light, non-pressured, appealing kind of way.

He was throwing everything at her defences, weakening her determination to hold him at bay with every seductive smile, with every twinkle in his gorgeous grey eyes.

It would be so easy to give in, so tempting to see how good they could be together now they were older, wiser, more mature.

But was she willing to take the risk? For there was nothing surer than the more time she spent with Blane the more likely it was that she would fall for him all over again, every charming inch.

Surely she couldn’t tread down the marriage road again? Not when it would involve baring her soul about the one thing she’d buried deep inside, her gut-wrenching sorrow at not being able to have children buried with the yearning for a baby she never knew she’d had until the option had been ripped away from her.

‘So now we’ve got that worked out, is it safe to bring up the topic of your project manager?’

‘All sorted.’

She dropped her gaze to her doppio before he could read her desperation. Yet another builder had walked this week, leaving her with a half-finished apartment and a permit that ran out shortly.

But she couldn’t hire him, not when she wanted him out of her life, and once she’d paid her dues with this dinner that was it.

No more meeting up, no more pseudo-dates, no more sharing coffees and chocolate.

The thought saddened her more than she could have dreamed possible.

‘Really?’

‘Uh-huh.’ She nodded vigorously, hoping the builder she’d lined up to meet in the morning would be exactly what she needed, for she couldn’t afford any more delays on the renovations, and having Blane so ready, willing and able to help wasn’t conducive to her getting him out of her life for good.

‘Fair enough, but remember the offer still stands. If you need some help, I’m your man.’

I’m your man.

He’d certainly been that at one time, for those all-too-short glorious three months when they’d laughed and teased and played as if they were the only romantic couple on the planet, a time when he’d been her fabled knight in shining armour and she would have happily followed him to the ends of the earth, secure in their love.

A time for long leisurely strolls on sultry summer evenings, hand in hand, idly exchanging hopes and dreams. A time for sharing hot fudge sundaes, play-fighting over who got the cherry on top and kissing the drips of chocolate from each other’s lips.

A time for newly awakened passion under starry nights, for eager caresses and soft sighs as they explored each other in intimate detail while snuggled under a picnic blanket down by the river.