The Army Doc's Baby Secret

He had the sense that half the room was watching avidly, but the man’s eyes were still fixed covetously, drunkenly, on Tia and he almost didn’t even notice Zeke’s unspoken warning.

Almost.

Belatedly, his eyes crossed, and then he jerked his head back as he tried to look up w

ithout stumbling backwards.

Zeke crossed his arms over his chest, knowing it made him look all the more imposing. Finally, the man conceded defeat and, spinning around, marched in a not quite straight line in the opposite direction.

For a moment, Zeke watched him go, and then he turned to his wife, and held out his hand and hoped for her sake that she had the good sense not to object.

In his heart she was still his. His. There would never be anyone else for him and, whilst she was with him at this chateau, there could never be anyone else for her.

He couldn’t have borne it.

It was weak, and shameful, but he couldn’t let her go and he couldn’t empty his mind of her since that moment back in her consultation room.

Actually, he had never been able to empty his mind of her since he’d turned up for his first day as a lifeguard only to see her scrubbing down the fibreglass sailboats in those little denim shorts and bikini top she’d favoured all those years ago.

Oh, he’d pretended that he’d got over her—even to himself—but he was beginning to realise just how much of a hopeless lie that had been.

And now here she was again, daring him to be his own undoing. Making him walk away from the mayor of the town where his livelihood was based—millionaire or not.

Just to be with her.

‘So, shall we finish that dance?’

Her whole body might as well have been on fire, the way that Zeke was looking at her. So directly. As though he was seeing her for who she was—and who she used to be—rather than as the doctor who had done a terrible thing to him.

It was a heady experience, crowding in on her and making her feel naked and vulnerable in front of him. Despite everyone else in the room. As though he owned her, body and soul.

Or perhaps that was just the wanton side of her. The one that Zeke—and only Zeke—had always brought out in her. They had been getting so close these last few weeks, almost like they had once been, maybe it was just inevitable.

Her pulse beat out a rapid tattoo onto her skin, as though trying to warn her not to be so naïve. He wanted his son, and keeping her close, keeping her amenable, was a perfect tactic. And Zeke was nothing if not a tactician; his military training had taught him that much. Always thinking three moves ahead.

Well, this time, so was she.

She wasn’t going to let Zeke just do with her as he wanted. She was going to make a few demands of her own. Turn the tables for once and take the lead. Show him that he wasn’t as in control as he liked to think he was. At least with her.

She braced herself as he drew her closer to him before telling herself that she couldn’t allow him to see how he affected her and instead forced herself to relax into his arms. Forced herself to act as though she were happy to be in his arms. But when his mouth brushed her cheek, she forgot that she was only meant to be playing at it.

He could rescue her. If he wanted to. From a life where she’d resigned herself to never being in love with anyone ever again. From blaming herself for the choices she’d made that night, and the guilt over keeping Seth a secret from him, even though she knew it had been the right decision at the time.

For all their sakes.

Then, as his arm snaked around her back, the heat of his hand searing into the sensitive skin at the hollow of her spine, she watched, transfixed, as his other hand enfolded hers easily. It was all too easy to follow where he led. Floating across the floor as though she were little more than a weightless skein of thread, draped loosely over his arm.

That dark, possessive glint in his eyes shooting right through her and heating her through to her very core. She lost sense of reality, of where they were, of anyone else in the room. They simply moved around the dance floor together, in flawless synchronicity as one piece of music blended into another and another, with nothing else existing for Tia but Zeke. Her husband, and the father of her wonderful son.

And when the music stopped momentarily, the musicians pausing for a brief rest, and Zeke escorted her off the dance floor, forging a direct path through the hastily parting crowds, she accompanied him wordlessly. But her entire body was alive, exulting in the dark, haunted look in his eyes, which she recognised only too well. She’d seen it many times over the years, but that first time had been the night he’d returned to Westlake—after she’d turned eighteen—and she’d stepped out of the calm, moonlit sea to where he’d been standing over her pile of clothes, a concerned expression clouding his features.

She’d laughed as he’d berated her for going into the water alone, at night, holding his coat out to her in some effort to preserve her modesty, and she had tugged it from his hands and thrown it onto the sand, moments before stepping right up to him and pressing her lips against his. His resolve hadn’t lasted much longer.

It had been reckless, and exhilarating. Moulding exactly how the future of their relationship would be.

Possibly she should be more mindful that over fifteen years had passed since that first moment together, and they weren’t kids any more. But she wasn’t mindful at all. She was only too happy to follow him as he made his way down the imposing hallways, looking for a small, empty room that would suit their needs.

‘This will do,’ he muttered, poking his head around the fourth door then tugging her inside.