Carrying Her Millionaire's Baby

The bottom line was, Zoey would have got in touch sooner if there was anything he needed to know, he was sure. She wouldn’t keep it from him. So she wasn’t pregnant. That was good. Right?

Which meant they could just get back to being friends again. Perfect.

Picking up his phone, Ash tapped out a reply.

I am, as it happens. Want to get together tonight? I’ll pick you up at seven. What’s your new address?

No point giving her a chance to opt out, now they’d got this far.

He hadn’t seen his best friend in weeks and he missed her.

Most of that was his fault, he knew. He could have got in touch with her as easily as she had with him. But it turned out that not travelling didn’t mean not being busy. His father had declared it time for a future planning meeting and dragged him, Moira and a variety of other essential staff off to the family manor house in Kent for several days of meetings and discussions about the direction the business should be taking next.

And then Arthur had casually dumped the whole thing in Ash’s lap.

‘You’re the future of the company, not me. So this is your project. Stay here, or go and actually live in that fancy apartment on the Thames you bought. I don’t care. Just get on with it.’

Then he’d left before Ash had even had a chance to object.

Not that he really wanted to. Suddenly, for the first time in two years, he was excited to be working again. Really working—not just escaping from his real life, or his memories. He had a purpose again, and it felt good to be getting stuck in. Even being back in London had been bearable—he felt as if he’d moved on to a different world, a different life. Starting over, just like Zoey was.

Suddenly, an unwelcome thought hit him. What if he was just replacing one sort of escape with another? He’d thrown himself into work and told himself that he was moving on, but he had to admit that the distraction it provided had been welcome too.

Because when he wasn’t working, he was thinking about Zoey. Remembering that last moment they’d been alone on the beach together, before the boat had rescued them. Picturing her naked body beside him, sure, but more than that.

He kept remembering that unreadable look he’d seen on her face. The one that told him he was missing something. That there was something wrong, something she wasn’t telling him.

Something, he reluctantly admitted to himself, that he was too scared to ask about again.

But maybe he didn’t have to. Maybe they could just go back to being friends.

Starting tonight.

Pulling up his web browser, Ash started searching for somewhere fun to take her. Something she would enjoy. Something that would show her she was still important to him—just in a friendly way.

His phone pinged.

Pick me up at work?

The gallery. Ash frowned. Was that because she was still staying with her parents and didn’t want a scene, or because she didn’t think he’d approve of wherever she’d moved to next?

He’d figure it out later. Everything would be easier once they were spending time together again, talking again.

And her text had just helped him find the perfect place to take her too.

CHAPTER TEN

ZOEY STARED AT the three dresses she’d brought to work at the gallery with her and tried to decide which one put across her message best. Of course, it would be helpful if her message was less confusing.

Mother of your child, best friend and occasional lover, but that’s all stopping now and we’re just friends and co-parents from here on out was a lot of stress to put on any outfit.

At least she wasn’t showing yet. Well, apart from being a bit more bloated than usual, but she doubted Ash would be looking closely enough to notice that. He might spot her swollen breasts though... Zoey took down the lowest cut of the three dresses from the rail in the back office, discounting it from her decision-making process.

If only all decisions were so easy. Like trying to figure out exactly how to tell Ash that she was pregnant.

Sighing, Zoey closed her eyes, turned around once, then grabbed the first dress her hand hit—a navy blue tunic-style thing she’d bought in a sale and never worn, for some reason. Perfect. It would cover any bloat bump and her enhanced cleavage. He’d never notice a thing.