His Little Miracle: The Billionaire's Baby

They laughed as she picked up a black serviette with a bold fuchsia Café Niche printed on it and thrust it towards Anna. ‘See, it says so right here.’

‘And what the boss says goes. Yeah, yeah, I know.’ Anna shook her head. ‘Well, want to know what I think?’

Camryn grinned as she poured milk into a stainless-steel jug, hankering for a frothy cappuccino before wrapping things up for the night. ‘You’re going to tell me anyway, so go ahead.’

Anna smirked as she slid two cups onto saucers and readied the espresso machine.

‘I think Cupid likes a challenge, and you, my friend, are it. The ultimate romantic rebel. Wouldn’t it be a notch in his bow to get you all hot and bothered over some guy?’

‘Sooo not going to happen.’

Her mouth twitched. If her friend only knew how hot and bothered she’d once been over a guy and what had happened on this particular day. ‘Though I kind of like the thought of being a rebel. Makes me want to wear black leather to work.’

Anna raised an eyebrow and sent a pointed look at her boots. ‘You already do.’

She grimaced as she wiggled a foot. ‘Yeah, and it’s killing me.’

‘You don’t get to look as good as we do without a little pain.’

Anna cinched her belt, made entirely of interlocking silver circles, tighter around her ample waist and patted what she proudly referred to as her ‘bountiful booty’. ‘Besides, wish I could get away with wearing what you do. However, skinny jeans, clingy silk tops and knee-high boots just aren’t me.’

‘You always look great,’ Camryn said, silently agreeing the typical outfit she wore to work definitely wouldn’t flatter her vertically challenged, curvaceous friend.

‘Thanks, hon. Now, let me make the cappuccinos while you hustle the last stragglers out the door.’

Anna jerked her head in the direction of a table near the floor-to-ceiling glass windows overlooking the spectacular Melbourne city night skyline. ‘It isn’t as if they’re here waiting for Cupid to strike.’

Camryn laughed as she glanced over at the two tradesmen, Dirk and Mike, who religiously frequented the café, poring over house plans spread across the table.

‘Hey, you never know. Maybe they’re planning on building their dream home?’

Anna quirked an eyebrow as both heads turned in sync as a blonde in a mini skirt walked past outside. ‘Uh, I don’t think so. Now, shoo! Give them a delicate shove out the door so we can put our feet up and get a decent caffeine hit before we lock up.’

‘Actually, the guys have organised a project manager to meet me here tonight to discuss the renovations on my apartment, so I’ll have to wait around till he arrives. Why don’t we skip the coffee and you head home? I’ll lock up.’

‘Sure thing, boss.’ Anna sent her a mock salute and grinned. ‘Want me to turn down the lights to discourage other customers from dropping in? And flick the sign on the door?’

‘I’ll do it. Thanks, have a good night.’

As Camryn walked the length of the bar to the power box, she glanced at her watch, hoping the project manager would arrive soon. She needed the renovations done asap, and all the other builders she’d tried had fobbed her off with ‘I’m too busy’ lines or tried to rip her off because she was a woman.

And she hated that. She hadn’t got where she was today without being strong and independent and focused on her goals, something chauvinistic guys just didn’t understand.

Flicking two switches to dim the lights, she had her finger poised over a third when a man pushed through the front door.

‘Great. He’s finally here,’ she thought as she flicked the last switch and picked up the set of hefty keys to lock up, eager to get this meeting underway.

However, as she neared the door, the keys crashed to the floor, along with her hopes for a productive consultation, her heart stopping when she got a closer look at the man who’d just entered.

Scruffy, wind-tossed, ultra casual.

Faded denim, soft grey T-shirt, worn leather work boots.

Stubble shadows, laugh-lines around grey eyes, slight dimples bracketing a mouth made for smiling.

A mouth that was smiling at her, a wide, genuine smile filled with warmth, a smile that packed a punch, a smile she could never forget no matter how hard she tried.

And she’d tried. She’d tried for six long, lonely years, yet the minute Blane Andrews strolled in and smiled that all-too-familiar smile, she was instantly transported back in time.

To the first time she’d seen that smile, on Valentine’s Day, as fate would have it, to a time when that smile rarely left his face, when he’d lavished her with attention, when they’d been crazy for each other.

Seeing him again after all these years was like being sucked into a vortex of swirling memories of love and laughter and sunshine on a hot summer’s day beside a lazy, meandering creek.

Of sharing hot dogs perched on the back of his rusty old Ford, watching the sun set, wiping ketchup off each other with smiles on their faces and love in their hearts.

Of taking long slow walks hand in hand in the shade of towering eucalypts, oblivious to the bush beauty, focused solely on each other.

Of cuddling and kissing and floating on air, lost in the exquisite, heady perfection of first love.

Oh, yeah, falling for Blane had been a whirlwind of exhilarating highs, before being spit out the other side, left with nothing but pain and loss and devastation.

He’d ripped her heart out, and she never wanted to feel that way again.

Ever.

‘Everything okay, Cam?’

‘You mean right now or are you asking how I’ve been the last six years?’

Trying not to show how rattled she was by his reappearance and the abbreviated form of her name only he had ever called her, she bent to pick up the keys at the same time he did, their fingers brushing, hers tingling, his long and warm and heartrendingly familiar.

She jerked back, straightening too quickly, and his hand shot out to steady her elbow, the barest of touches enough to give her dormant hormones a jolt.

‘Both.’

He scanned her face as if looking for answers, those slate-grey eyes as frank and warm as they’d always been, beautiful, honest eyes that said trust me.

Foolishly, she’d once complied.

‘I’m fine.’

A big, fat lie if ever she heard one. How could she be fine when the love of her life, the man who’d walked out on her without an explanation, came waltzing in here on the anniversary of the day she’d first handed him her heart? Only to have it carved up three months later.

‘What are you doing here?’ she blurted, sliding the key ring from index finger to index finger, the jangle as the keys clinked and clanked against one another deafening in the growing silence.

‘I came to see you.’

Her heart thudded at the sincerity in his eyes.