Carrying Her Millionaire's Baby

Slipping out through the bi-fold doors that opened onto the veranda over the ocean, Zoey gulped in the fresh sea air to try and clear her head. Closing the door as silently behind her as she could, she moved across to sit on the edge, her feet trailing just above the water, so the odd wave lapped against her toes.

She needed to think. To figure out what the hell had just happened—and why.

Leaning back on her hands, she let the morning wind ruffle her hair and awaken her skin. The last vestiges of the previous night’s storm still lingered in the air—a cooler, fresher breeze than she was used to out here in the Indian Ocean, and the tang of salt in her mouth with each breath. The waves were higher too—not the crashing, terrifying crests of water they’d experienced sailing in the night before, but enough to show that nothing was calm, that it wasn’t all over yet.

In fact, Zoey was rather afraid it might only be beginning.

Alone on the deck, she couldn’t resist the urge to relive the night before in her mind. After all, how was she going to fully understand what had happened—or figure out what she should do next—if she didn’t fully examine what she’d done? The fact that her heart-rate picked up at the memories was just an aside.

It had started with that kiss.

That stupid, ill-thought-out, spur-of-the-moment, mind-blowing kiss.

Zoey had never spent much time before imagining what it would be like to kiss Ash—she hadn’t needed to. Grace had described it in absurd detail the first time she’d kissed him.

But the kiss Zoey had experienced was nothing like that decade-old description.

‘It was perfect, Zoey,’ Grace had said, bouncing a little on her bed in their tiny shared university flat. ‘Like flowers and white wine and romance and rose petals. Not too much—you know, some guys can just get a little over-enthusiastic with their tongue?’

Zoey had nodded at that. She knew.

‘But Ash... He was gentle and careful and responsive and...’

She’d sighed, a dreamy look on her face, and Zoey had thought she understood exactly what she meant.

But that wasn’t the kiss that Zoey had received last night.

When Ash kissed her there were no rose petals or romance. No holding back or being gentle.

But if she was honest with herself that had only made it better. Hotter.

Her eyes fluttered closed as she remembered.

Even as his lips had brushed hers for the first time, she’d felt her blood heating up. That first touch had sent her wild—and it seemed to have the same effect on Ash too. Within moments, his hands were at her back, holding her closer as his mouth worked over hers.

He’d pulled back for a half second, just long enough to meet her eyes and murmur, ‘Okay?’ But the moment she’d nodded he’d been on her again, a drowning man who needed her kisses to survive.

Zoey had to admit it had been hot as all hell.

But a huge mistake.

Her eyes snapped open and she focused on the cool blue of the ocean, on the breeze against her skin, reminding her treacherous body of all the reasons why sleeping with Ash was the worst idea possible.

One: I just ran out on my own wedding. Again.

Two: I might technically still be engaged to David. Hell, she was still wearing his ring. Shame burning her cheeks, she tugged the diamond solitaire from her finger, realised she had nowhere safe to put it, and shoved it back onto her right hand instead as a compromise.

Three: he’s my best friend’s husband. That was the biggie, of course. It didn’t seem to make any difference to her heart or head that Grace had been dead for two years. It still felt like the worst and grossest betrayal.

Four: everything is different now.

They’d grown so close as friends. Ash was the only person she knew who was always in her corner. And now? She’d ruined that.

No, they’d ruined it. This was very much his fault too.

Zoey sighed, and tried to think her way out of the muddle her brain was in. But, before she could get further than We need to fix this, the bifold doors opened again and Ash stood there, wearing just his trousers from the night before, topless and gorgeous, his hair mussed from sleeping on the floor and his eyes knowing and heavy.

Oh, God, now what do I do?

* * *

Ash’s first thought upon waking was, We need to do that again. Soon.