Gray Quinn's Baby

Quinn grimaced. ‘Just so long as it has nothing to do with a dream.’

‘No, this is real enough.’ Picking up the flattest stone she could find, she angled her wrist and sent it skimming across the water.

‘One…two…three…four!’ Quinn was behind her with his arms looped loosely around her waist, counting the times the stone flipped up in the air as it travelled over the surface of the water. His breath warmed the top of her head.

‘Does that mean we’re expecting quadruplets?’

‘Quinn?’ Magenta swung round to face him.

‘How did I guess? I can’t live with you every day and fill my eyes with you without noticing those secret smiles you’ve been smiling, and the excitement you’ve been trying so hard to hide. Also, since we’re pretty close,’ he added wryly, ‘I’ve noticed that you’re late. So, Magenta Steele, I believe you have something to tell me?’

‘Gray Quinn, you’re a spoiler.’ Pressing her hands against his chest, she threatened to push him in the water. Quinn didn’t move an inch.

‘This isn’t what you want?’

‘Of course it is!’ Magenta exclaimed as Quinn swung her round in the air. ‘And you?’

‘I thought loving you made my life complete—you just proved me wrong.’

‘So I’m second best now?’ she teased him, snuggling her head into Quinn’s hard chest.

‘I think my heart’s big enough to hold you and a whole football team of children safe inside it. You should know by now that you’re the only woman I’ll ever love, Magenta. And now you’re the mother of my child,’ Quinn murmured, staring straight into her eyes.

‘I love you, Gray Quinn.’

‘I love you too—and you just reminded me why.’

‘What did you say?’

‘What I’ve been saying to you for months now: I love you.’

Grabbing hold of the edges of Quinn’s jacket, she shook them imperatively. ‘No, not that—I’m talking about the actual words you said, about me being the mother of your child.’

With an indulgent groan, Quinn shook his head. ‘Not that dream again.’

‘There are some things you can’t explain,’ Magenta said stubbornly.

‘Such as?’

‘Words I heard in the dream that you just repeated—explain that away,’ she said with a dramatic flourish.

Holding her in front of him, Quinn stared down into her eyes. ‘Let’s put this to bed once and for all, shall we? Everyone accepts that the subconscious plays on and on while we’re sleeping—all those things we can’t bring ourselves to think about during the day or don’t have time for. We fall asleep and they all come flooding back—whether we want them in our heads or not. And then we embroider them to suit our deepest desires—like you desiring me, for instance.’

‘What?’ Balling her hands into fists, Magenta pummelled Quinn’s unyielding chest. ‘The world doesn’t revolve around you, Gray Quinn.’

‘Your world does, apparently.’ He had to dodge out of the way this time.

‘Okay,’ said Magenta, setting her jaw. ‘So what about the little things—the coincidences like the dress and shoes you bought me, also in the dream? And the hot-dog stand?’ she said excitedly, growing in conviction.

‘If they were all in the dream, then that was exactly as you say—coincidence. The dress and shoes I gave you aren’t such a mystery. The girls leave their magazines lying about all over the office and, contrary to popular opinion, men do glance at them. I guessed the featured outfit of the month would be pretty high on your wish-list.’

‘And the hot-dog stand?’

‘We pass it on the way to your old place.’ There was a smile in Quinn’s voice. ‘I don’t think you can read too much into that, Magenta. You were hungry, I bought you a hot dog—whoo-hoo.’

Magenta sighed. Didn’t everyone want a little magic in their life? But she had Quinn. She should be satisfied, she told herself, feeling warmth consume her as she stared into his face.

‘I’m sorry if I burst your bubble, baby.’

‘It’s not that.’

‘Yes, it is. However sceptical people think they are, everyone hopes that a little magic will touch their life. There wouldn’t be a game of chance or a dating site in existence otherwise—and that’s only the tip of the iceberg.’

‘My dream was just that, in your opinion—a projection of my deepest hopes and fears onto my sleeping mind.’

‘I’m afraid so.’

‘Then I think you’re an unromantic killjoy, Gray Quinn.’