His Little Miracle: The Billionaire's Baby

Releasing her hand to slide his palm up her arm in a slow, sensuous caress, he bridged the short distance between them to whisper in her ear, ‘Us.’

One tiny syllable with so many connotations.

Us, as in the giddy, impulsive, head-over-heels-in-love youngsters they’d been? Or us, as in the older, wiser, more mature people they’d become?

It was the latter that scared her the most, for she’d loved Blane, a twenty-one-year-old struggling tradesman with a thirst for adventure, so what hope did she have of not falling for the sexier, more together version?

She didn’t move, savouring the sensation of his breath fanning against her cheek before he pulled away and released her arm, every cell in her body on high alert, crying out for more.

‘Let me guess. You’re going to say there is no us.’

His voice was tinged with amusement rather than rancour, and she found her mouth twitching despite the urge to deny, deny, deny just as he’d anticipated.

Shrugging, she toyed with a stray popcorn kernel that lay in her lap. ‘We’re friends, so that’s an “us” of sorts.’

‘Friends. Right.’

He didn’t believe her. He knew she was a fraud. That with every passing day it was getting harder and harder not to fall under his spell all over again.

Pushing to his feet, he rubbed his hands together as if concocting some grand Machiavellian scheme.

‘Then you won’t object to catching up as friends this weekend. After all, it’s your first weekend off in months, and I’ve been very patient and—’

‘Okay, okay, you’ve made your point.’ Grateful he’d put some much-needed distance between their bodies, she tilted her head to look up at him. ‘What did you have in mind?’

Thrusting his hands in his pockets, resulting in an eye-catching display of soft cotton pulled taut across his broad shoulders, he winked.

‘Leave it to me. Whatever I come up with, rest assured, it’ll be mighty friendly.’

Unable to stop a rueful smile spreading across her face, she watched him stride out of the room, wondering what on earth she’d got herself into now.

Blane stared at Cam as she dismounted the jet ski, the expanding tightness in his chest scaring the hell out of him.

He couldn’t be having a heart attack. He’d had his annual physical last month, and the doctor had pronounced him fit and healthy for the average twenty-seven-year-old that had spent the bulk of his life doing manual labour before trading his tools for a desk.

If his ticker was fine, the tension in the vicinity of his heart could only mean one thing. His love for his wife was expanding and growing with each passing day.

He’d never believed in the corny love-at-first-sight thing till he’d walked into that old-fashioned rundown coffee shop in Rainbow Creek, taken one look at the spiky-haired rebel with a cheeky smile and flashing cinnamon-coloured eyes serving behind the counter, and he’d been a goner. Drifting through Victoria from town to town had suited him just fine until he’d fallen head over heels for the sassy brunette with a smile that could light up a room.

Eloping might have been impulsive, reckless and downright stupid considering their age and how long they’d known each other, but he’d never regretted it, not one single day. The only thing he regretted was walking away from her, despite having her best interests at heart.

But he was through with regrets. This time, he’d give it all he had. Their marriage was worth it. She was worth it.

Oblivious to the depth of his feelings, she sent him a jaunty wave while standing in the shallows before leaning forward, twisting her hair into a tight spiral, and squeezing the water out, the sun highlighting the honey streaks in the dark molasses, creating a halo effect as she shook it out and ruffled it dry.

Halo? She was no angel that was for sure, with the constant teasing glances, the flirtatious banter, the subtle touching. Friends, she’d said. Ha! She’d been driving him crazy ever since she’d moved in, stoking his fire till he could barely think straight let alone put the finishing touches on the surprise he had lined up for her.

He’d anticipated she wouldn’t want a bar of him after he’d done a runner six years ago, and he hoped the surprise would go some way to proving how seriously committed he was to reviving their marriage.

While she might be singing the ‘let’s take it one day at a time’ tune, she was warm and spontaneous and fun as always, her actions speaking much louder than her words.

She could call their living arrangements ‘hanging out together’, but from where he stood they were testing the marriage waters and, while his sexy sceptical wife might be dipping her toes, he was ready to dive in the deep end.

Watching her jog across the sand towards him, he silently thanked whoever had invented wetsuits. The material outlined every gorgeous curve of her body. She’d filled out and then some since he’d first fallen in love with her, and her new figure had him craving his luscious wife more than ever.

Leaping to his feet, and dusting off his butt as she reached him, he thrust his hands into his pockets to stop himself from grabbing her and never letting go.

‘So, how does this rate as a date?’

‘Technically, it isn’t a date. You gave me some lame excuse about your penthouse needing to be fumigated, and I pretended to buy into it. Apparently we had to take refuge in your mate’s holiday house for the weekend or suffer dire consequences from inhaling pesticides. So, really, this isn’t a date, it’s a necessity for my delicate constitution, right?’

He snorted. ‘Delicate? Yeah, as an angle grinder.’

Chuckling, she squeezed the last droplets from the ends of her hair. ‘But just so you know, I’ve never jet-skied before, and it’s awesome.’

Her eyes glittered with pleasure as she fiddled with the zip on her wetsuit, sending his excitement meter off the scale. ‘Glad you liked it.’

Seeing her like this, exuberant and glowing, resurrected the scary tight-chest feeling. Yes, they’d only just met up again. Yes, it was too early to be thinking long-term. But he knew.

Their marriage was alive and kicking.

He trusted his gut instincts, the same instincts that had made him a fortune in the building industry, the same instincts that had catapulted him to the top of the construction world and made him a multi-millionaire ten times over, and right now his gut was telling him she wanted to reunite as much as he did.

Getting reacquainted as friends was the first step, and this amazing woman, standing in the sun like some golden glowing glamazon, would hopefully be right alongside him as they took the rest of the steps towards a long, happy life together.

‘You hungry yet?’

Her stomach growled in response, and she laughed, patting her belly. ‘I guess falling off that thing a hundred times worked up an appetite.’

‘I only counted fifty.’

Dodging the playful slap she aimed his way, he held out his hand. ‘Come on. Let’s head back to the car.’

She didn’t hesitate, slipping her hand into his, and as he curled his fingers around hers he marvelled at how right it still felt after all this time.

Oh, yeah, she might be singing the anti-marriage tune, but this maestro had every intention of conducting them straight into a happily-ever-after concerto.

‘Is there anywhere to change around here?’

He shook his head. ‘Sorry. It’s behind the car door or wait till we get to the house.’

The corners of her mouth curved into a deliciously naughty smile. ‘Or you could hold a towel up for me, but only if you promise not to peek.’

As all the blood from his brain rushed south, he tugged on her hand till she stood flush against him, murmuring in her ear, ‘No deal. And it’s no use asking me to turn around because I’ve got eyes in the back of my head.’

‘It can’t be too hard, right?’

She wriggled within the circle of his arm around her waist, the wetsuit soaking water through his T-shirt, the damp a welcome relief for his skin burning up from the inside out.