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A Baby on Her Christmas List
Louisa George



Praise for (#ulink_1bd4a848-fc76-59c6-be28-859f1350c324)
Louisa George (#ulink_1bd4a848-fc76-59c6-be28-859f1350c324):
‘HOW TO RESIST A HEARTBREAKER keeps you hooked from beginning to end, but make sure you have a tissue handy for this one will break your heart only to heal it in the end.’
—HarlequinJunkie
‘A moving, uplifting and feel-good romance, this is packed with witty dialogue, intense emotion and sizzling love scenes. Louisa George once again brings an emotional and poignant story of past hurts, dealing with grief and new beginnings which will keep a reader turning pages with its captivating blend of medical drama, family dynamics and romance.’
—GoodReads on
HOW TO RESIST A BEARTBREAKER
‘Louisa George is a bright star at Mills & Boon
and I can highly recommend this book to those that believe romance rocks the world.’
—GoodReads reader review on
HOW TO RESIST A HEARTBREAKER

A Baby on
Her Christmas List
Louisa George


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
A lifelong reader of most genres, LOUISA GEORGE discovered romance novels later than most, but immediately fell in love with the intensity of emotion, the high drama and the family focus of Mills & Boon
Medical Romance™.
With a Bachelors Degree in Communication and a nursing qualification under her belt, writing medical romance seemed a natural progression and the perfect combination of her two interests. And making things up is a great way to spend the day!
An English ex-pat, Louisa now lives north of Auckland, New Zealand, with her husband, two teenage sons and two male cats. Writing romance is her opportunity to covertly inject a hefty dose of pink into her heavily testosterone-dominated household. When she’s not writing or researching Louisa loves to spend time with her family and friends, enjoys travelling and adores great food. She’s also hopelessly addicted to Zumba
.
With a background of working in medical laboratories and a love of the romance genre, it is no surprise that Sue MacKay writes Mills & Boon
Medical Romance
stories. An avid reader all her life, she wrote her first story at age eight—about a prince, of course. She lives with her own hero in the beautiful Marlborough Sounds, at the top of New Zealand’s South Island, where she indulges her passions for the outdoors, the sea and cycling.

Dedication (#ulink_07aa5965-574a-59eb-8b42-14cb409ce658)
To Iona Jones, Sue MacKay, Barbara DeLeo, Kate David and Nadine Taylor, my gorgeous Blenheim girls—thank you for the great weekend at the cottage and your amazing help to brainstorm this book.
You guys definitely know how to rock a writing retreat. xx

Table of Contents
Cover (#u3372b6a1-d39f-5bb1-8f4b-6ff774575d9a)
Praise for Louisa George (#ulink_0f101980-609a-5644-bcf0-a14126e413d5)
Title Page (#u73f3ce6e-d475-576b-910d-75d9c7ba5a5a)
About the Author (#u37dcf637-625a-56df-aec3-5c2610063d5d)
Dedication (#ulink_b5667597-5e97-5731-91d6-b15fa5f078e7)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_1981757a-4c04-580d-a4cb-96abbc8f360a)
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_d20d027e-53db-53c5-97a2-2511c9d4e19e)
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_74a92307-4393-5eac-b153-06b22e180087)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_ccd41bdb-7812-567f-8639-da8d05defc83)
Nine months ago …
‘I’VE FOUND A baby daddy!’ Georgie’s wide grin shone brighter than the Southern Cross, her dark brown eyes sparkling even in the bar’s dim light.
Liam watched, dumbfounded, as excitement rolled off her, so intense it was almost tangible.
‘Well, not a daddy as such. I should really stop saying that. But I have found someone who would be perfect to donate his sperm … which I know makes you shudder, so I’m sorry for saying The Word.’ She gave Liam a wicked wink that was absolutely at odds with this whole one-sided conversation.
Whoa.
Too gobsmacked to speak, Liam indicated to her to sit. She tossed her silk wrap and bag on the back of a chair, put her drink down on the table and plonked in the seat opposite him at the only free table in Indigo’s crowded lounge.
A baby?
He felt the frown forming and couldn’t control it—even if he’d wanted to—and finally found his voice. ‘Hey, back right up, missy. Am I dreaming here? I thought you just said something about a baby …’
It had been too long since he’d seen her looking so happy so he was wary about bursting her bubble—but, hell, he was going to burst it anyway. Because that’s what real friends did—they talked sense. Just like she’d done the first time they’d met, in the sluice room of the ER; he a lowly med student, losing his cool at the sight of a lifeless newborn, she a student nurse with more calm and control and outright guts than anyone he’d ever met. She’d let him shake, allowed him five minutes to stress out, then had forced him back into the ER to help save the kid’s life. And they’d been pretty much glued at the hip ever since.
So he needed to be honest. He raised his voice over the thump-thump-thump of the bar’s background bass that usually fuelled their regular Friday night drinking session, but tonight the noise was irritating and obnoxious. ‘I go away for three months and come back to sheer madness. What happened to the Nothing’s going to get in the way of those renovations this time? I’m on the real estate ladder now and going up. What the hell, Geo? A baby? Since when was that on your to-do list?’
Stabbing the ice in her long glass with a straw, she looked up at him, eyes darker now, and he caught a yearning he’d seen glimpses of over the last ten years. She thought she hid it well, but sometimes, when she was distracted or excited, she let her tough guard slip. ‘You, of all people, know I’ve always wanted a family, Liam. It may not have been at the top of my list because I always believed it would just happen at some point. But I can’t keep putting it off and leaving it to chance, because chance isn’t going my way. And I refuse to prioritise decorating over having a baby. That would be stupid.’
In his opinion, having a baby was right up at the top of stupid but he kept that to himself. And, for the record, it wasn’t just decorating—her house needed knock-down-and-start-again renovations. ‘But what’s the hurry? You’re only twenty-eight. It will happen, you’ve got plenty of time. You just need to find the right guy.’ And why that made him shudder more than the sperm word, he didn’t know.
She let the straw go, then pulled a hair tie from her wrist and curled her long wavy hair into a low ponytail. Her hair was the same colour as caramel, with little streaks of honey and gold. He didn’t need to get any closer to know that it smelt like apples or fruit or something vaguely edible. And clearly he’d been away too long if he was starting to notice stuff like that.
Luckily she was oblivious to him staring at her hair and thinking about its colour and smell. ‘Oh, yes, and the candidates for husband are queuing up at the door, aren’t they? You may have noticed that the pickings for Mr Perfect are slim and slimming further by the day in Auckland. There’s a man drought. It’s official apparently, New Zealand has a lot fewer men than women my age. Why do you think I’ve needed you to … expedite a few dates for me?’ Her shoulders slumped. ‘I know we’ve had fun setting each other up with potentials over the years, but I’m starting to think that—’
‘That maybe you’re too … picky?’ He raised his glass to her. ‘Hey, I don’t know, but perhaps you could consider only having a one-page check-box list that potentials need to tick, instead of fifteen?’
Her eyes widened as she smiled. ‘Get out of here. It is nowhere near fifteen.’
‘Not on paper, no. But in your head it is. I’ve seen you in action, remember. He’s not funny enough. Too intense. Just a joker. Doesn’t take me seriously. Just wanted a one-nighter.’ Truth was, Liam had been secretly pretty damned proud she’d spurned most of his mates’ advances and that she’d ended most flings before they’d got serious. There was something special about Georgie and she deserved a special kind of bloke. He hadn’t met one yet that would be worthy of her.
‘So I have standards. I’d settle for Mr Almost Perfect if he existed—which he doesn’t. I’m getting too short on time.’ Her red, loose-fitting summer dress moved softly as she shrugged delicate shoulders. ‘I don’t know about you, but I get the feeling that asking a man to father your children on a first date might just scare him off.’
‘Well, hell, if I asked a man to father my children on any date it’d either be in a nightmare or because I was hallucinating.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘You know very well what I mean. And, yes, you are the straightest guy I’ve ever met.’ Her eyes ran over his chest, lingering a little over his pecs, throat, mouth. Why he noticed he didn’t know. And, even stranger, he felt a little hot. When her gaze met his she gave him her usual friendly smile. ‘You’re looking mighty fit these days, Dr MacAllister. How was Pakistan?’
‘Hot, wet and desperate.’ As with all his aid missions, he didn’t want to relive what he had seen. Enough that he had those images in his own head, without sharing details with others.
‘But at least you know you were doing good out there. What were the conditions like? Are you okay? How are you feeling? When do you leave again? Please be happy for me.’
This was always how it was with Georgie: random conversation detours and finishing each other’s sentences. But things generally flowed and they knew each other so well that often they didn’t have to speak to communicate. So with the sudden baby daddy bombshell he’d never felt so excluded from her life. ‘I’m fine. Knackered, but fine, looking forward to a few weeks’ locuming at the General’s ER. At least there’s running water and reliable electricity. And I have a decent bed to sleep in. The next planned rollout for me is in South Sudan in a couple of months.’
‘But if they need you earlier …’
He nodded. ‘Sure. It’s the way it is.’
‘I still don’t know how you manage all that to-ing and fro-ing. Here a couple of months, then gone again. I like staying in one place.’
And he didn’t. The longest he ever stayed anywhere was when he came back here because he needed a semi-permanent job to help fund his aid work. ‘But I’m never going away again if it means I come back to crazyville baby talk.’
‘It’s not crazyville.’ Again with the eye roll. He didn’t even have to look. This time it was accompanied by an irritated shake of her head. ‘I’ve made a decision to do this now. On my own. I know it’ll be tough and it’s not the perfect image I’ve always had in my head about a mum and dad and two point four kids, but that’s too far out of reach right now. I’ve had to curtail my dreaming and get real. Being a solo mum is just fine.’
She stopped talking to take a long drink of what looked a lot like lemonade. On a Friday night? Could be that she was actually serious about this. ‘I want to conceive and carry to term, and have a baby … my baby … and, if things work out, have another one too. But that’s probably greedy and selfish.’
‘You deserve to be, Geo, after what you’ve been through.’ But now? Why now?
‘So, I’m looking forward, and taking an opportunity. Endo is a lot less active during pregnancy so if I could manage two pregnancies in quick succession … if the IUI works, that is … IVF would be a whole different ball game.’
Trying to keep up he lifted his palms towards her. ‘IUI? IVF? Slow down a bit. So you’re not thinking turkey baster? Or just plain old-fashioned sex? That is a relief.’
‘Believe me, I’ll do whatever’s necessary.’
He didn’t doubt it. And finally the reality was sinking in. She was going to do the one thing he’d sworn never to do—and because he was her friend she’d expect him to be supportive. ‘So what tipped you over to the dark side?’
And, yes, his reaction would not be what she wanted, but: a) he couldn’t help it and; b) he wasn’t prepared to lie just to make her feel better. It was precisely because of their friendship that he knew he could be straight up with her.
‘You are such a grump. For me there is no dark side. Being abandoned at two days old and having literally no one from then on in has made me want to feel part of something … a family. You know that. I just want what everyone else has, Liam—to feel loved, to be loved. To love. And I have no doubt that there will be some hard times, but I will never leave my baby on a doorstep for someone else to find, and condemn them to a life of foster-homes and social services, like my mum did to me. I will cherish any child I have. I’ve had my share of dark sides and being pregnant and a mother isn’t one of them.’
Her nose wrinkled as she reached across and lightly punched him on the arm. ‘So, I was worried things were getting worse endo-wise, so I asked Malcolm to run some more tests at work a few weeks ago.’ Her hands palmed across her abdomen—subconsciously? Possibly. Protective? Definitely.
‘You’ve been having more pain? Oh, God, I’m sorry, Georgie. That sucks. Really, I thought you were managing okay.’ Liam hated that. Hated that even though he fixed people up every day he didn’t have the answers to Georgie’s problems and that they were running out of solutions as time ticked on. His heart thumped in sync with the music, hard and loud in his chest. ‘What did he say?’
‘That the endometriosis is indeed getting worse. That everything in there’s getting blocked up and scarred and it won’t be long before I’ll need pretty major surgery. That it’s only a matter of time before pregnancy is going to be nigh on impossible. At least, without a whole lot of effort and money and no promises at the end.’
Her eyes filled with tears. Which, for Georgie, was such a rarity Liam sat there like a useless lump and watched in horror, unable to move. She was the strongest woman he knew. She’d faced tough battles her whole life and she never tired of fighting. No matter how ridiculous her plan sounded, his heart twisted to see her hurting. ‘You know how much I need this, Liam. I thought you’d understand. I thought you’d support me. You know, like good friends do? I’ve been there for you regardless and I kind of hoped you’d feel the same.’ Her hand reached for her gut again. ‘This idea? This is a good thing.’
It was the worst thing he’d ever heard. ‘And so who is going to provide the …?’ He couldn’t bring himself to say the word. For an accomplished medic he had trouble imagining what went on behind closed doors at the IVF clinic.
‘Sperm? I’ve decided I’m going to ask Malcolm.’
‘What?’ Liam almost choked on his beer. ‘Your boss?’
‘And that’s wrong, why? He’s smart. Not unattractive. Owns a successful IVF clinic and has helped thousands of women achieve their dreams, so he’s compassionate too. Those are all the right kind of genes I’d look for in a father for my child.’
‘He’s still also your boss.’
She hip-planted both hands. ‘And I’m pretty sure he’d want to help. He sees this kind of thing every day, so to him it’s not an unusual request. I’ll ask him to sign a contract to keep things simple. I have enough money put by to keep me going for a while and the clinic has agreed to reduce my hours after maternity leave.’
Maternity leave. Contracts. That sounded far from simple. And the money she had put by was supposed to be for renovations to help her become more financially independent. ‘Seems like you have it all figured out.’
‘He knows how much I want this. How much I need to know DNA and family history. It’s been my life’s dream. Just a little … expedited.’ She gave him a smile at their shared joke.
Liam didn’t feel much like laughing. Sure, she’d talked about this on and off over the years but now the reality hit him in the gut like a two-ton truck. She wanted a baby. A family. Kids. ‘Surely asking your boss is downright unprofessional. Unethical.’
‘A friend helping a friend? Since when did that cross any kind of line?’
‘Where would you like me to start?’ It crossed more lines than Liam cared to think of. It would be like … like if he offered to father her child. Ridiculous. Ludicrous.
Wouldn’t it?
The thought flitted across a corner of his mind. He pushed it away. Ludicrous indeed.
‘Malcolm saw how upset I was at the results.’ As she spoke she seemed to loosen up a little. Determined, but calm. ‘I’ve asked to have a meeting with him next week. If he says no then I’ll have a rethink.’
‘It sounds messy to me. How about using one of the anonymous donors at the clinic? You get to know about their family history, too. You can choose anyone that ticks your fifteen pages of boxes.’ He didn’t know why someone anonymous fathering her child seemed like a better option. It just felt better. A long way from right, but better. ‘And why didn’t you ask me?’
What the hell?
He didn’t even know where that question had come from. As she stared at him his chest tightened.
‘Is that what this is all about? You’re upset because I didn’t ask you? Honestly? The man who comes out in hives when he even sees a baby?’ As soon as the words left her mouth she closed her eyes and pressed her lips together. Too late. After a beat or two she slowly opened her eyes again and winced. ‘Oh, my God, I’m sorry. Really. I’m sorry, Liam. I am. I didn’t mean … I’m so sorry. But I just know how you feel about families.’
‘Do you?’
She looked surprised at his question. Probably because he’d kept his past to himself and never spoke about what he wanted for the future. But families and babies were something he definitely had an aversion to. No, not an aversion, just a deep desire not to go there. Ever.
Her voice softened. ‘Since you always refuse to talk about anything deeper than what you had for lunch, I have to surmise. You have a track record of emotional avoidance. So I’ve always assumed that big loving, meddling, messy, happy families aren’t something on your wish list. In all honesty, you’d be the last person I’d ask. And, judging by your current reaction, I think I’m right.’
***
Liam’s face was all shadows and hollows. His blue eyes had darkened to navy. Only once before had Georgie seen him look so utterly haunted, and that had been the day they’d met and she’d forced him to work on that newborn.
Later that night, when they’d gone for the first of many subsequent beers, the alcohol had made his tongue loose and he’d mentioned a family tragedy involving his sister, Lauren. But then had clammed up so tight Georgie had never been able to open him up to that particular hotspot conversation again. And since then he’d absorbed whatever it was that had thrown him off balance that day. Until now.
His voice was low when he eventually spoke. ‘I just think you could have talked to me about it all first. Put more thought into it.’
‘I don’t think that’s possible, it’s all I’ve been thinking about for weeks, turning scenarios over and over in my head.’ She watched as anger and hurt twitched through him until he wrestled it under control. Why couldn’t he just smile and pat her hand and say what a brilliant idea it was? Her words had obviously been a low blow. She’d always respected that he had his reasons for not wanting a family, even if he’d never really fronted up and explained why.
Some support would have been nice, but hadn’t she heard this kind of story so many times at work? Babies, IVF and the sometimes desperate journey towards parenthood made strong couples stronger and weak ones fall apart.
Then thank God she and Liam weren’t a couple because, judging by this conversation, they’d fall at the first hurdle.
He was her friend, her closest friend in lots of ways; she always took his advice, always went to him with problems. And now she was all kinds of confused, needing time to think and reaffirm.
She stood to leave. ‘Look, this was clearly a mistake. I’m going to go home so we can both take some time out. I’m sorry if I’ve ruined our Friday night. But, you know, I don’t know where we’d go from here. Trying to play your wingman and find a date for you with some poor unsuspecting woman just isn’t my idea of fun right now.’
He tipped his glass towards her again, but he didn’t get up. Didn’t try to make her feel better. And he always tried to make her feel better.
Which was why his opposition was spooking her more than she’d anticipated. Still, she’d made this decision and she was sticking with it.
She had no choice. This was her life. Her chance.
And to hell with him if he wasn’t going to be there right when she needed it most. She threw her wrap round her shoulders. ‘I’ll … I don’t know … see you later?’
He watched her stand. He still didn’t move but his voice was more controlled as he gave her a small smile. ‘Heaven help us all when you start taking the hormone injections.’
‘Oh? Why?’
‘Aren’t they supposed to make you all antsy and volatile?’
‘What?’ She couldn’t bring herself to tell him she’d been taking them already. And, yes, she was being antsy. But it was his reaction that had made her like that, not the medications. ‘Maybe, just maybe you have royally pissed me off. And to add insult to injury, you’re now being condescending. Patronising.’
‘Just honest. As always.’ Yes, she supposed he was. One of things she relied on him for was his frank honesty. ‘So when is it all happening? The impregnating thing?’
‘So very clinical, Liam.’
‘Yes. Isn’t it?’
‘I was hoping it would be in the next couple of weeks if possible.’
The glass in his hand hit the table with a crash. ‘What? So soon? You don’t mess around, do you? You don’t want to talk a bit more? At least listen to someone else’s opinion?’
‘And have you try to convince me against it? I don’t think so. I don’t need your negativity. It’s a chance, Liam. I need to take it.’
For a few seconds he looked at her. Just stared at her. She couldn’t read him. The man she’d thought she knew pretty much inside and out, and she couldn’t even guess what he was thinking.
After a torturous silence that seemed to increase the tension tenfold, he spoke, ‘Yes. Yes, you do. Take the chance, Geo.’ Now he stood up and walked her to the door. Once outside he didn’t wrap her in his usual goofy bear hug. Didn’t graze her cheek with a kiss and a smile. Didn’t give her a wink and make her laugh. ‘Let me know how you get on.’
‘Why? So you can make me doubt myself all over again?’
He took her by the shoulders and his gaze bored into her. ‘Because I’m your friend, Georgie.’
And then she ached for him to give her one of his hugs more than anything else in the world. But he turned away. Back towards the bar and the white noise that seemed to be mingling with his words and filling her head with doubts.
What if he was right? What if this was the far side of crazy? What the hell did she know about family anyway? About parenting? It wasn’t as if she’d had any experience on either side of that particular fence. What if Malcolm didn’t follow through? What if he did?
Worse, what if this rift meant that the friendship she had with Liam would be broken for ever? He was the closest thing she had to any notion of family, and the thought of not having him in her life made her suddenly feel empty and cold.
Torn and confused, she climbed into a waiting cab and watched him retreat to the bar, his dark T-shirt straining across well-defined broad shoulders, and a gait that screamed defiance.
And what the hell was going on with those pecs? The man had suddenly developed muscles of steel. Strange, too, that in the midst of all this turmoil she should even notice. That, and the shape of his lips, the way his mouth curved and softened as he smiled, which had been rare but welcome tonight. Those hormones were clearly playing havoc with her head.
But judging by the sudden strange slick of heat that hit her breasts and abdomen—which surely must be a reaction to the muggy Auckland evening—they were messing with her body too.

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_93fb6c46-23f7-5eed-b43d-0029f8f17486)
Mum’s had a stroke. Had to go back to UK. Don’t know for how long. Will keep you in the loop. Sorry. Can we have that meeting when I get back?
SHUTTING THE IVF clinic room door, so she could have a moment to take it all in, Georgie stared at the text, her gut clenching. Bile rose to the back of her throat. She felt dizzy.
And downright selfish.
Inhaling deeply, she pulled herself together. For goodness’ sake, it wasn’t the end of the world, just the end of an opportunity. That was all. There would be another chance, next month or the month after. Some time. With a different donor.
She should be feeling sorry for her boss, not herself.
No worries, Malcolm. Safe journey. Sending hugs for your mum x
And yet she felt as if her world was closing in on her, that she was fast running out of time and her dream was getting further out of reach. Scrolling through her texts, she found her conversation thread with Liam and started to type. Then stopped. She hadn’t heard a thing from him for four days, and even though she knew he’d be busy, catching up on everything at work, she felt a little lost. Normally he’d text her with funny stories from his shift, jokes, stuff. Just stuff. But ever since Friday she’d been hit by silence. And it hurt a little that he knew what she was going through but didn’t want to see how she was doing.
Okay, it hurt a lot.
So maybe that would be the norm from now on. She didn’t want to think about that. But for the last few days it hadn’t been just his absence that had been on her mind. It had been that crazy tingly feeling that had swept through her body the other night, just looking at him. And then an out-of-proportion feeling of loss that he wasn’t being supportive. It was absurd. Seemed those meds made her overreact in lots of different ways.
The clinic room phone interrupted her thoughts and brought her back to reality. ‘Georgie speaking.’
It was Helen, the receptionist, and Georgie’s good friend. ‘I have a patient here, Kate Holland. Says she doesn’t feel too great. Can you see her straight away?’
‘Kate? Sure, I remember her, she was in just the other day. I’ll be right through.’ Helen rarely showed any kind of emotion, so the anxiety in her voice made Georgie take notice. Putting her own worries aside, she made sure the clinic couch was ready, opened up Kate’s notes on the laptop then collected her patient, who appeared noticeably short of breath, flushed and anxious.
‘Kate. What’s the problem? Are you okay?’
‘No. I feel pretty rubbish, actually. My stomach hurts and I’m so thirsty.’ For a toned and fit marathon runner Kate climbed onto the bed with a lot of effort.
Alarm bells began to ring. Georgie settled the young woman against the pillow, silently counting the laboured respiratory rate. ‘You’ve been having the injections, right? Any other problems? Nausea? Vomiting?’
Kate nodded. ‘Yes. Twice this morning and I feel really sick now. But so thirsty.’
Georgie took her patient’s hand and measured her pulse. Fast and thready. Any number of scenarios raced through her mind. Fertility drugs had a tranche of usually mild and temporary side-effects, but when they were severe they could be life-threatening. ‘Peeing okay? If you can do us a sample, that’d be great.’
‘Not much at all. But I’ll try.’
‘Okay, when you next need to go, yell out.’ Giving Kate a quick examination and piecing together her patient’s history, Georgie reached a preliminary diagnosis. It wasn’t what either she or her patient wanted to hear. ‘How long have you felt like this?’
‘The past couple of days or so. I started feeling really sick yesterday.’ Kate gripped Georgie’s hand, her flushed face tight and scared. ‘But please don’t tell me we have to stop the injections. Please say we can do this. It’s our last chance.’
Georgie gently encouraged her to lie back down, not wanting to upset her even more but realising that time was of the essence. ‘I know, Kate. I know. But don’t get ahead of yourself. I’ll quickly get the doctor to come check you over, he’ll probably suggest you have a short stay in hospital, just a few days or so, to check everything’s okay …’
After the doctor had confirmed Kate’s diagnosis, Georgie arranged the next few steps. ‘Because you’re publicly funded, we’ll transfer you to the General Hospital gynae ward, that’s the closest to your home. They’ll look after you. I promise.’
‘What about the IVF? Will that happen now?’
Georgie took her hand again. ‘Sweetheart, you remember the doctor saying you had something called OHSS? That’s our medical shorthand for ovarian hyperstimulation syndrome. That means your body has reacted very strongly to the drugs. You have too much fluid in your abdomen, which is why you’re out of breath. You’re dehydrated, but we need to watch how much fluid you drink because we don’t want you overloaded. You have a swollen red calf, which might mean you have a blood clot. We’ve arranged for some scans and a few more tests at the hospital. You need to rest and let your body heal before you do any more.’
‘We can’t afford any more. This is it, our last chance. Mark will be so disappointed. He’s been really positive this time round, we both have. We talked about a Christmas baby, he got so excited. He wants to be a dad so much.’ Fat tears rolled down Kate’s red cheeks and Georgie’s heart melted.
Some people, such as Kate, were lucky enough to be eligible for publicly funded treatment for a limited number of cycles. Having already waited for months and had one failed attempt, this was indeed Kate’s last chance. She and her husband Mark had a low income and there was no way could they afford the high costs and even more time off work for private IVF. Life was so unfair sometimes.
Georgie dealt with these scenarios in her job every day, and she’d always managed to keep a professional emotional distance, but today it felt deeply personal. She knew how desperate it was to have a ticking clock. And a chance that could be blown for any random reason. ‘We’ll do the best we can for you, Kate.’ But she wouldn’t make any promises. It wasn’t her style to give her patients false hope, no matter how much her heart ached in sync with them. ‘In the meantime, you have to get better.’
If anything, it made Georgie more determined to grab her chance as soon as she could. Deciding to go through with it was the first step on what she knew was going to be a long road. She had no illusions as to the prospect of being a single pregnant woman, then a solo mother. It would be immensely rewarding. It would be hard. And with no one else to help shoulder the burden she knew there would be times she’d find it difficult to cope. But she would. She’d been on her own her whole life. She didn’t need anyone else. But needing and wanting were two different things.
On days like these she’d usually ring Liam and have a whinge. Often he’d suggest a drink or a movie or something to cheer her up. But as he’d gone AWOL and she didn’t fancy another grim conversation, she’d do things differently tonight. He certainly wasn’t the only friend she had in the world.
‘Okay, that’s me over and out. See you in the morning,’ Liam called to his secretary, then grabbed his work bag and made his way through the crowded ER to the exit. It had been one hell of a day, dealing with staff shortages, bus-crash casualties and the usual walk-ins. What he needed now was a sundowner at the local and an early night.
The hospital doors swept open and he took his first breath of fresh air for eleven hours. It was tinged with a familiar fragrance that had him turning his head. She was standing way over to his left, half-hidden by a tall confident-looking man, and Liam would have missed her and walked by if he hadn’t caught that sweet, flowery scent.
For some reason, as he saw her deep in conversation with a stranger, his heart hammered. Mainly, he suspected, because he’d bawled her out the other day and hadn’t had the chance to make things right. ‘Georgie. Hi. What are you doing here?’
She whirled round, her cheeks reddening, her green nursing scrubs making her look younger somehow. Vulnerable, which she’d hate. There was a ripple of tension as her shoulders straightened, but she masked it. ‘Oh. Hey. I’m dropping off a patient’s bag. She had to be admitted unexpectedly and left it at the clinic by mistake. This is her husband, Mark.’
‘Liam. Hi, I work here.’ As he shook hands with the guy the heart-hammering slowed a little. Was it wrong to feel relief that his friend wasn’t sick, but that another man’s wife was? Damn right it was. But relief shuddered through him anyway. ‘Is everything okay?’
‘Mark’s wife, Kate, has OHSS, so she’s feeling a bit fragile. Mark’s on his way up to see her on Ward Three.’
‘Ah, yes. I remember seeing her name on the admissions board. She’ll be okay, mate. She’s in good hands.’
The man nodded grimly and headed through the main entrance. Leaving just Liam and Georgie and a weird sense of displacement. Georgie played with the handle of her handbag, looked at her feet. ‘I should probably go.’
Not without some kind of resolution, he thought grimly. This was painful. They’d never had this kind of weird, tense scenario play out before. ‘Wait. Are you okay?’
What he meant was, Are we okay?
‘Yes. Thanks. You?’ She raised her head and looked at him. She looked tired, drawn. The edges of her eyes were ringed with black. Which was a far cry from the last time he’d seen her when she’d been brimful of excitement, and he’d stomped all over her happy mood. Was the dark look just for him or had something else happened to her?
Okay, stop guessing and cut the crap. ‘Look, Geo, I didn’t mean to pee all over your parade. I’m sorry about the other night. I was tired and just caught by surprise.’
‘Clearly. And you’ve been too busy to send a text?’ But the iron-clad barriers seemed to give just a little with his apology. ‘Or did they get lost in cyberspace, along with your good manners?’
‘As it happens, things have been manic here. I’ve done four long days with the last vestiges of jet-lag messing with my brain.’ She didn’t need to hear all that. ‘I did think about texting you more than a few times. But I wasn’t sure whether you’d slap me or eye-stab me with one of those killer looks you save for especially annoying people that drive you mad on purpose. And I wasn’t up to taking the risk.’
That, at least, got a smile. ‘Aw, Liam, I’d never eye-stab you. How could you say such a thing?’
‘I know what you’re capable of, my girl. Downright scary at times.’ He walked with her towards the car park, feeling a little more relaxed. ‘Er … done the deed yet?’
‘By which you mean the assisted fertility?’ Georgie slowed and gave him what he had come to recognise as one of her false smiles. Her mouth flipped up into the usual grin, but her eyes didn’t shine. In fact, nothing about her was shining tonight. Even her caramel hair—it was just plain weird that he’d started to notice things that he’d always glossed over—seemed dulled. ‘Malcolm’s had to go away due to a family crisis, so I’ve put off asking him.’
‘Oh. I see.’ And with that news he really should have been cock-a-hoop but he wasn’t. Strange emotions rippled through him, mainly disappointment for her. It was what she wanted. She’d been so excited and determined the other day, to the point that he’d been unable to talk any sense into her.
Now she looked like she needed bolstering. ‘Okay. So you’ve got plenty of time. I’m sure you’ll be fine waiting just a little while longer. Have you had any thoughts about asking anyone else? What about the donor lists?’
She frowned. ‘Yes, well, it’s far from ideal. And, like I said, time is something I don’t have a lot of.’
‘You sound like you’re waiting for the guillotine or something. Just a touch dramatic, Geo?’
‘You think so?’ As they closed in on her car they stopped. She pointed up to the second floor of the hospital with a taut finger that was definitely capable of eye-stabbing if she so wished. ‘That lady in there has been trying to get pregnant for five years. And nothing. Zilch. Nil. She’s had one chance at IVF, which came up with disappointment, and now everything’s on hold until she gets better from the side effects of trying to stimulate her ovaries. I expect that if she gets the go-ahead again she’ll have to pay megabucks … and even then it might not work for her.
‘I do not want to be that lady, possibly looking at years of pressure and stress. I’ve got to start the ball rolling and damn well soon. Otherwise when and if I’m finally in a committed relationship with someone who loves me, it might be too late. I have a window of opportunity in my cycle coming up very soon. And I’m disappointed that I can’t take advantage of it. Dramatic? If you say so. But, then, you’re not the one staring down the barrel of a ticking time bomb.’
‘Wow. See? Scary.’ He stepped back. ‘I’ll just make sure I’m out of eye-stabbing range.’
She stalked off to her car, then stopped abruptly and turned on him, gravel scraping underfoot. Never before had he seen such passion and anger and determination and spirit in anyone. ‘For once in your life, Liam, take me seriously.’
‘I do. All the time. I was just trying to make you feel better.’
‘Well, you didn’t. You know what? I bet we could spend the next few weeks going round in circles with this and you’d never understand.’
Oh, he understood all right. He’d been thinking about it for days, ever since she’d brought the subject up. In fact, that ludicrous idea that had flitted through his head had taken seed and would not let go.
But the ramifications were huge.
She glared at him, her eyes fierce, curls springing loose and free around her face. Her mouth taut and determined. She looked magnificent and terrifying, like the time she’d pushed him into Resus for that baby. And many times since when she’d been hell-bent on partying hard or just grasping life in her hands and making the most of it. She’d been like that since he’d known her—reaching, grasping, dreaming. Making her life full, taking what she wanted. Because she’d had so little for so long she hadn’t wanted to waste a moment, and she defied anyone who stood in her way.
She was strong and staunch and loyal and in that second he knew that if his back was against the wall, she’d do anything for him. Anything.
And so here they were at an impasse. All he had to do was offer her what she wanted.
Great to help out a friend, but at the same time he was held back by … abject fear. Fear, that was it. The increased heart rate, sweaty palms, gut clench. He was scared as hell at the prospect of it all, of letting everyone down. Of not loving enough. Or, worse, loving too much. And he knew damned well how that panned out. He wouldn’t be able to function around a child or be part of her cosy family. But if he didn’t do it then she’d be forced to choose someone she didn’t know or give up altogether—and he knew, too, that that was not part of her dream.
Despite all the late-night musings and the words going round and round in his head, he knew it was the most stupid idea he’d ever had.
But the words lingered. Lingered still as he saw her shrug her shoulders. As she turned her back to him and opened the car door. Lingered as he watched her swipe her hand across her face to stop a rogue tear. She wouldn’t even allow herself to show her bitter disappointment. That almost broke him in two.
It would cost him little in time and effort. Not overtly anyway. He’d have to deal with the ramifications later. But right now his friend was hurting and there was something he could do to help. One singular thing. He could be that guy. The one he wanted to be, the one who took an emotional risk and helped a friend in need, whatever the personal cost.
Before he’d had a chance to second guess himself the words were tumbling out. ‘Georgie, wait. I’ll do it.’
Her voice was small and he could hear the pain, and yet deep down there was some hope as she turned to face him. ‘Do what?’
‘I’ll be the donor.’
‘You? You? Why?’ Her laugh was bordering on sarcastic.
He took a step forward. ‘Because I’m taking you seriously. This is what you want. What you deserve.’
She wagged her finger, fast. ‘Oh, no. No. No. No. No. No. No. Not happening.’
‘Unless you have a particular aversion to passing along my DNA? If I were to look objectively I’d say I was pretty okay. I’m a doctor, so not dumb. Oh, and my compassion knows no bounds. Apparently you like that in a father figure. I’m funny—always a winner.’ He pointed to his abs, which he sucked in for effect. ‘And pretty much the most devastatingly good-looking man in town.’
And bingo—his aid work meant he’d be out of the country for most of the rest of his life if he wanted. So he wouldn’t be forced into any emotional attachment. This was a purely altruistic act. Which begged the question—what the hell did he want?
This wasn’t about him, he reminded himself. It was about Georgie. ‘How could you not want to use my sperm?’ He whispered the last word as reality started to seep through his feel-good fuzzies.
The sarcasm melted away and the laugh was pure Georgie. ‘Yeah, right. That’s objective? Don’t get above yourself. For one, you have a slightly crooked nose.’
He ran his down his ethmoid bone and he gave her his profile view. ‘Rugby injury, not genetic. Besides, you can hardly see it.’
She cocked her hip to one side as she perused him. ‘You have particularly broad shoulders.’
‘Great for tackling and giving great hugs.’ And he should know. He’d done it often enough. Usually as he was patting women on the back and wishing them well. It wasn’t them, it was him.
She frowned. ‘But not great for wearing halter-neck tops.’
‘Ah shucks, and now you’ve spoilt my dress plans for tomorrow.’ Funny, but it felt strange, being analysed in such a way by a friend.
‘On the other hand, you do have … long legs.’ Her voice cracked a little as her gaze scanned his trousers. Her pupils did a funny widening thing. A flash of something—and then it was gone. Two red spots appeared on her cheeks. ‘Ahem, big feet.’
‘And we all know what that means.’ He winked. ‘Any boy would be happy with the MacAllister brand of DNA. If you bottled it you’d get a fortune.’
‘Oh, yeah? No girl wants big feet. Bad for shoe buying.’ She gave him a final once-over glance. Then her voice softened. ‘Really, it’s a lovely offer and I’d be stupid not to take you up on it. But what about you? You don’t want this. You really don’t want this.’
‘But you do, Georgie.’ There was a long beat while he tried to put into words the weird feelings he was experiencing. He could give her the chance she wanted, on one condition. ‘But we’ll need a contract. I don’t want any involvement.’
‘Oh.’ Giving the minutest shake of her head, she held her palm up. ‘You’ll be the baby daddy but don’t want to be the daddy?’
‘Yep.’
‘Oh. Okay. Then I’m utterly shocked that you’ve offered. Why would you do that?’
Not wanting to dig up something he’d pushed to the darkest part of his soul, he gave her the scantest of explanations. ‘Happy families isn’t my style. But a happy Georgie is. I’ll do it. Just agree before I change my mind.’
‘Oh, this is fast and so out of left field.’ She put a hand to his shoulder, ran her fingers down his arm. And in the cool late summer evening goosebumps followed the trail of her warm skin against his. ‘Can I think about it? Get used to the idea?’
‘Sure.’ He needed time too, his chest felt blown wide open.
‘It would mean a lot of changes. For us.’
‘I know. I realise that.’ And if it hadn’t been Georgie’s dream on the line, no way would he ever contemplate something like this.
She looked hesitant, shocked, but hopeful. ‘So … well, we could have a contract similar to the clinic’s standard donor document. We can use that as a blueprint. If that’s what you really want?’
‘That’s what I want. No involvement, nothing.’
‘I won’t ask you for anything else. Ever. Trust me.’
He did. Absolutely. He just wasn’t sure how much he could trust himself. ‘Yes. Definitely. A contract will be best.’
‘And it’ll mean tests. Soon. Like this week.’
‘Whatever it takes.’ Although the altruistic vibe was fast morphing into panic.
‘Oh, my God, is this really happening?’ She reached round his waist and pulled him into one of her generous hugs. His nostrils filled with her perfume and he fought a sudden urge not to let go.
Her body felt good close to his. She was soft in his arms and her head against his chest made his heart hurt a little. He’d missed her these last few weeks. Especially these last few days. They never argued.
And this … was just a hug. Nothing strange there. She gave them all the time. And yet … He was aware of the softness of her body, the curve of her waist … He swallowed.
Nah. She felt just the same as always. Just the same old Georgie. She turned her head and looked up at him, her dark eyes dancing with excitement, the evening sun catching her profile. For a second she just looked into his eyes. One. Two. He lost count. She had amazing eyes. Flecked with warm gold and honey that matched her hair. His gaze drifted across the face he knew so well, and a shiver of something he didn’t want to recognise tightened through him.
She pulled away quickly and the connection broke.
Thank God, because he was getting carried away in all her emotion. And that was definitely not something he was planning on doing. Emotional distance was the only thing that stopped him wreaking any more damage on those he loved. Hell, he was his father’s son after all. Emotional distance was what MacAllister men did better than anyone else. But somehow he didn’t think that that admission would go down well on Georgie’s tick list.
‘Thank you. Thank you so much. It means a lot to me.’ She placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. Again with the goosebumps. This time they prickled all the way to his gut and lower. ‘I’ll mull it over and … um … let you know? Soon as possible?’
‘Okay, and I’ll get the turkey baster sorted for when you say yes.’ Now he needed to ignore the strange feelings and off-load some of this ache in his chest. He saw a damned long run in his immediate future.
Her demeanour changed. She brushed a hand down over her scrub trousers, all business and organisation as she took a shaky little step away from him. ‘Like I said, we’ll do it the clinic way.’
‘For sure. Any other way would be just too—’
Her head tilted a little to the side. ‘Ick?’
He grinned. ‘Is that a technical term?’
‘Absolutely. For that weird feeling you get when you think about sleeping with your best friend? Like sex with your cousin? Right? Weird.’ Shuddering, she looked to him for reassurance.
Which he gave unreservedly. ‘Right. Yes. Ick’s the word.’
The notion of them having sex had rarely arisen. Back in the early days he’d caught himself looking at her and wondering. She’d walked through his dreams many nights. He’d tried to imagine what kissing her would have been like. How she would taste. How she would feel underneath him. Around him. But he’d never put any of that into words for fear she’d run a mile. He’d never asked more from her than what they’d already had and, frankly, he’d believed that any kind of fling would inevitably ruin the great friendship they’d built up.
She was worth more to him than just sex. And seeing as that was the only thing he ever offered to women, he’d never wanted to risk doing something so pointlessly stupid and losing her.
Plus, while Georgie was funny and loyal, she’d never made a move or seemed interested in him in that way. They’d had an implicit agreement that anything of a sexual nature could never happen. So he’d sublimated those imaginings until he’d stopped having them. Had lost himself in other women.
Which made it all the more nonsensical that he’d started noticing things again … like her smell, the colour of her hair, her eyes. Surely it could only mean some sort of nostalgia for the younger Georgie in his past when the present was shifting out of his control?

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_e4d9c1fc-e871-5e72-b807-a9cea6875408)
Eight months ago …
Hey, stranger. Thought you’d want to know that your genius sperm has done what it was designed to do … I’m pregnant!
Great news. Congratulations.
FINALLY, AN ANSWER. Biggest news she’d ever had and not one exclamation mark. Not one. No cheers or fanfares. No questions. Was he not just a little curious? Pleased for her? Maybe it was the whole emotionless text thing stuffing up the sentiment of his message, but hadn’t the man heard about emoticons?
Disappointed, Georgie texted him back.
I’m so excited! :) Catch up soon?
Sure. Things are a bit busy right now. Packing. South Sudan. In two days. I’ll try come over to say bye.
Okay, your call.
He was heading off again and he’d try to come and see her? Try? What the hell …? Packing didn’t take two whole days. He was the world’s lightest traveller.
And, actually, it was her call just as much as his. Worrying about contacting him had never been an issue before and it shouldn’t be now just because she was carrying his baby. No. Her baby. He’d made that very clear. But surely they could still be friends? She wasn’t going to allow this to change what they had. Why should pregnancy make a difference?
But it did, she realised. Not just to her relationship with Liam, but to her. She was going to be a mum. A mother. With a family. Something she’d never had before. She was going to be part of something … more.
She put a hand to her very flat, very unpregnant-looking stomach and her heart did another flip. It was still so early, too early to grow attached; any number of things could go wrong. But it was already too late. Her stomach tumbled as she closed her eyes, imagining.
Hey, there, little one. Nice to meet you.
And that was about all she dared say. She felt something tug deep inside her. These days she seemed to be so emotional about things. About the baby. About Liam …
Well, if he wasn’t going to make an effort then she damn well would. She wanted to celebrate and send him off on his travels with no tension between them. Georgie stabbed his number into the phone and left a message: ‘Hey, step away from your backpack. Let’s do something. I won’t take no for an answer. I get the feeling you’re avoiding me. But if you are, please don’t admit it. Just say you’ve been busy. Mission Bay? Six-thirty. I’m hiring bikes. No excuses.’
‘Are you bonkers or just straight up certifiable?’ Three hours later his voice, behind her, although irritated and loud, made her heart jig in her chest. He’d turned up at least, and for that she was grateful. ‘Cycling? In your condition? Seriously?’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, I’m fine. How many times have we done this?’ She turned and pretended to scowl, but her scowl dropped the moment she set eyes on him. He was wearing a scruffy old T-shirt that hugged his toned muscles and was the same vibrant blue as his eyes. Faded jeans graced his long legs, framing his bum … and, no, she’d never really studied it before, but it was deliciously gorgeous. No wonder he had a queue of women trying to encourage him to commit.
Heat hit her cheeks and shimmied down to her belly, where it transformed into What would he be like in bea?
And that was just one of too many thoughts about him recently that were way out of line.
To distract herself from staring too long at the man who had suddenly become a whole new fascination for her, she clipped on her helmet and prepared to use up some of this nervous energy. Pregnant, yes. Petrified, indeedy. Strangely excited just to see her long-lost best mate? Very definitely. And that made her legs twitch and her stomach roll.
‘I needed some fresh air. It’s such a beautiful evening and it’s the weekend tomorrow. Freedom! We could get fish and chips and eat them on the beach later.’
He frowned and pointed to her helmet. ‘Take it off, Georgie. It’s too dangerous. We haven’t been cycling for years, you could fall off. Why you suddenly want to do it now I don’t know.’
‘Because it used to be fun and I don’t know why we got out of the habit of doing it. I want the fun back.’ She shook her head in defiance. ‘And stop being ridiculous. You’re a doctor, you know very well that at this stage in pregnancy it’s perfectly fine to exercise. Come on, I’ll be fine, it’s not as if I’m bungee jumping. Although, there is a free slot at the Skytower at eight. So if we hurry …’ She handed him his helmet and stood, arms crossed over her chest, until he’d put it on over that grumpy face. ‘Breathe, Liam. Breathe. It was a joke. And do try to keep up!’
The sea air was filled with salt and heat and the smell of a distant barbecue. Overhead, seagulls dived and squawked, making the most of a bright summer evening’s scavenging. Mission Bay was, as always, filled with smiling people, cycling, blading or running along the seaside promenade. On the right, beyond small beach inlets and a turquoise sea dotted with anchored yachts, the mighty volcanic Rangitoto Island stood verdant and powerful. On the left they cycled past coastal suburbia, higgledy-piggledy candy-coloured houses clinging to the steep hillside.
Georgie pedalled hard, keeping him in her slipstream, ignoring his concerned cries. She could do this. She needed to do this to show him—and herself—that she was still the same old Georgie. And if she could also purge those weird fluttery feelings that seemed to happen whenever she saw him, that would be even better. Because this new Georgie who kept popping up with hot thoughts about Liam was unsettling in the extreme.
Usually he raced ahead, screaming over his shoulder for her to go faster, but today he seemed happy to pootle behind. She had the distinct feeling that, in his own way, he was keeping watch over her.
After a few kilometres, pedalling towards towering city skyscrapers, she turned and cycled back to the row of Victorian buildings flanking a children’s playground and large fountain. Toddlers kicked and splashed in the spraying water, watched over by attentive parents.
Georgie braked, imagining being here some time in the future, showing her little one the exciting new world. Making everything a game, lining up her pram with the others, chatting to parents about nappy changing, bedtimes and the terrible twos. Her heart zinged. It seemed that, despite all her best efforts, she was starting to see everything through a different, pregnancy-coloured lens. With a heavy heart she glanced at the young dads splashing around and on the reserve, throwing balls to their sons, cheering, encouraging and, most of all, laughing.
Liam had been definite in his refusal to be a father. She understood that some people didn’t have the need for kids in their lives, but that didn’t mean she liked the idea. How could someone not want to know their own flesh and blood? It had been a question burning through her for her whole life. How could you just walk away and not want to be found, not want to make contact? What the hell ever happened to unconditional love?
It went against everything she knew about him. He was gregarious, funny, and cared deeply about the people he helped. But if he really meant he wasn’t going to be involved she’d have to be Mum and Dad to her child. After all, in the children’s home where she’d eventually settled, one parent was always better than none at all.
As Liam approached she flicked the bike into gear and cycled on to a small caravan advertising fish and chips and ice-cold drinks. ‘Usual? Snapper?’
‘Of course. And a large portion of chips. Tomato sauce …’ He grinned, pointing to a can of cola. ‘And all the trimmings.’
‘I don’t know where you put it all.’ His belly was hard and taut. Body lean. Again with the full-on flush as she looked at him, this was becoming an uncomfortable habit. ‘If I ate half of what you ate I’d be the side of a house.’
‘You can’t exactly worry about putting on weight now, can you?’ He laughed and gave her a look she couldn’t quite decipher.
Having returned their bikes to the hire shop, they walked in step down to the beach and found a spot on the sand in the warm, soothing last rays of the day. Liam sat beside her and they ate out of the paper in companionable silence, pausing every now and then to comment on the food. The fish was divine, as always, the chips hot and salty, the cola too cold and too fizzy. Everything seemed exactly the same as it always was, except that it wasn’t. She didn’t know how to begin to have any kind of conversation that referred to being pregnant without causing another rift between them.
In the end she decided that rather than going over and over things in her head she was just going to say what was bothering her. She waited until he met her eyes. ‘I wanted to say thank you, thank you, thank you for what you did.’
‘It’s fine. Honestly. Congratulations. You must be pleased.’ He didn’t look fine, he looked troubled as he leaned in and kissed her cheek, long eyelashes grazing her skin. ‘You’re looking good. Feeling okay so far?’
‘Feeling a little numb all round, to be honest. It’s real and happening and I can’t quite believe it. I’m so lucky for it to have worked first time round. But it does happen.’ She ran her palm across her tender breasts. ‘No morning sickness yet, but my boobs are pretty sore.’
‘Yeah. It happens. Wait till the varicose veins and heartburn kick in then you’ll really be rocking.’ He gave her a small smile, smoothing the tiny lines around his eyes, and for a second she was ten years younger, meeting him for the first time. All über-confident medical student who had been knocked sideways by the tiniest of beings—so small she’d fitted almost into the palm of his hand. Never had Georgie seen anyone look so frightened by something so frail, the cheery self-assurance whipped from him as if he’d been sucker-punched.
He’d been honest and open and warm. And since then she’d stood with pride at his graduation, cheered him on the sidelines at rugby games, dragged him kicking and screaming to ballet performances and musical theatre, entirely happy with what he’d had to give her. Just a simple, uncomplicated friendship.
But now his eyes roved her face and then his gaze dipped to where her hand was over her breast. Suddenly she felt a little exposed and hot again under his scrutiny. She kept her eyes focused on the top of his head but eventually he looked back at her as if he was going to speak. A flash of something rippled through those ocean-blue eyes. Something that connected with her, something more than warm, which made her belly clutch and her cheeks burn. Heat prickled through her, intense and breath-sapping.
Her fingers ached to just reach out and touch his cheek. Just touch it. To see what his skin felt like. To feel his breath on her face. Her mouth watered just looking at his lips. Open a little. Just a little … Her breath hitched. He was so close. His familiar scent of male and fresh air wrapped around her like a blanket.
Close enough to—
He shook his head as if confused and disorientated. Then he shifted away and focused on the remainder of his food. Meanwhile, she breathed out slowly, trying to steady her ridiculously sputtering heartbeat. Had she imagined that flash of heat? Those feelings?
Yes.
It was all just her stupid clunky imagination.
She would rather die than ask him and be laughed at … or worse. That kind of conversational subject was explicitly off limits and would only cause tension. It was bad enough that she’d created this difficult atmosphere in the first place. But now, to … Oh, my God. The thought flitted into her brain and rooted itself there, so obvious, so immense, so downright out of this world … No. Surely not. She didn’t. Couldn’t.
She fancied him? Fancied the pants off Liam MacAllister? The guy she’d got drunk with, thrown up on, told her deepest dirty secrets to? She wanted to kiss him? Really? Truly? Her heart thudded with a sinking realisation. Things between them were complicated enough, not least because he was going halfway across the world in less than twenty-four hours and she had no idea when she would see him next.
She couldn’t want him, and he certainly wouldn’t want her, especially with a baby in tow. Not now. Not ever. End of.
Hell, no.
Georgie was wearing a soft white lacy bra.
That was all Liam could think of. Not how amazing it was that she was pregnant. Although that was pretty amazing. Foolish and foolhardy and well beyond his comprehension too. But she did have a kind of warm glow about her, a softness he’d never seen before. He was no longer even registering how far beyond stupid she’d been to race along the pavement on two thin wheels when anything could have happened to her.
No, the only thing that took up room in his thick head was that her small perfect breasts were covered in lace.
As she leaned forward to take another hot chip, her top gaped a little more and he caught a glimpse of dark nipples. Cream skin. He swallowed. Dragged his gaze away and looked out at the boats bobbing on the turquoise water. What the hell was wrong with him?
Why, when he needed to put distance between them, had that whole concept suddenly become too hard to contemplate? He’d gone from not thinking about her in that way to not being able to stop thinking about her in the matter of a few weeks. He’d kept away, making excuses not to see her, just to get his head around everything. And it had failed spectacularly because the moment she’d told him she was getting on a saddle he’d thundered down here with a distinct determination to convince her not to. He’d always teased her, had fun with her, joked around with her, but never until now had he had this need to protect her. Even if it was from herself.
And he was damned sure it wasn’t just because she was pregnant. But he wished to hell it was. Because that was none of his business. Because that he could distance himself from.
Couldn’t he?
Man, his life was changing in a direction that was beyond his control and it was taking a lot of getting used to. His life, yes. But another life, a new life, was growing inside her and he was struggling to get past that.
After finishing her dinner and crinkling up the paper into a tight ball, she spoke. ‘You didn’t have to sneak into the clinic during my lunch hour, you know. I would have given you some space.’
‘It just didn’t feel right.’ He looked everywhere but at her. The finer details of how he’d provided the sperm were definitely not for this conversation. Even more, he’d really not wanted to alert her to the fact he’d been in her workplace, doing the deed in a side room. ‘Man, they ask a lot of questions.’
‘Tell me about it. They always ask a heap of stuff about your parents too. Any genetic conditions, inherited diseases. Has either parent had cancer, heart problems, high blood pressure? It kills me just a little bit to not know. In some ways it’s a whole clean slate and I don’t know about any inherited illnesses that may be hanging over my head. But in other ways it’s a jigsaw, trying to piece bits together.’ She shrugged, trying for nonchalance, but Liam knew just how much she’d ached to know just something about her mum and dad. ‘I don’t even know who I got my eye colour from, for God’s sake.’
He wanted to say it didn’t matter. Because even if you did know who your parents were, it didn’t mean a damned thing. It sure as hell didn’t mean they loved you. Or maybe that was just his. But, then, how could he blame them? ‘Well, at least you know little Nugget there will have big beautiful blue ones, to break the girls’ hearts.’
‘Or brown. She could have my brown ones.’ She glanced over at him with a curious look and he immediately regretted mentioning any kind of pet name. He was not going to get involved. He would not feel anything for this baby. Which was currently only a collection of cells, not a baby at all. Not really.
His chest tightened. Who was he trying to fool? He could barely look at Georgie without imagining what was growing in her belly.
Who. Who was growing in her belly. His baby. He was going to be a father. And what had seemed such a simple warm-hearted gesture to help out a friend a few weeks ago had taken on a whole new meaning. This was real. This was happening. She was having his baby.
For a moment he allowed himself the luxury of the thrill of that prospect, let the overpowering innate need to protect overwhelm him.
Then he remembered a very long time ago, as a young boy of eight, the excitement deep in his heart as he’d felt a baby’s kick. His hand on a swollen bump. The soft, cooing voice. A new life.
Then it was gone.
Ice-cold dread stole across him like a shadow. It didn’t matter how far you ran, your nightmares still caught up with you.
He quickly tried to focus on something else. ‘So, plans for the weekend? After the bungee is it whitewater rafting? Paragliding? How about base jumping? All perfectly suitable under the circumstances.’
‘First I thought I’d go running with the bulls, then perhaps a little heli-skiing.’ She threw the rolled-up paper ball at him. Missed. Completely. ‘Idiot!’
He threw it back at her. ‘Bingo. On the head. Your aim is appalling.’
‘Show-off!’ She threw it towards him. Missed by a mile. Went to grab it. He reached it first and held it high above her head. Way out of her reach. She jumped to get it. Failed. Jumped again. Then she playfully poked him in the stomach so he flinched. ‘Ouch!’
‘Yes! Got it.’
He grabbed her arms and pulled her into a hug. Tickled her ribs until she yelped for mercy. Felt the soft heat of her breath on his skin. The way she moulded into him. Warm. ‘Play fair.’
‘Says the man with elastic arms. You have a natural advantage.’
‘And you …’
Grinning and breathless, she pulled away, but not before he’d got a noseful of her flowery scent. She smelt like everything good. Everything fresh and vibrant and new. Something spiralled through him. A keening need. Rippling to his heart, where it wrapped itself into a ball of content, then lower to his groin, where content rapidly turned into a fiery need.
He let her go as his world shifted slightly. This could not be happening.
She sat back down, pink-cheeked but smiling. ‘Actually, I thought I’d rip up the carpet in the spare room and see what’s underneath. I’m hoping it’s going to be one of those miracle moments—Ooh, look, the last owner covered a perfectly intact parquet floor—like on the DIY TV shows. But somehow I doubt it.’
‘So do I. You’ll be lucky if there’s a decent layer of concrete there. Thinking about your dilapidated house makes me laugh. Either that or I’d cry. It needs serious work.’ And thinking about something tangible and solid made a lot more sense than thinking about the searing lusty reaction he’d just had that had thrown him way off kilter. ‘Don’t get your hopes up. I’ve seen that old scabby carpet. The walls. The roof. My guess is that the previous owners only spent time covering up just how badly falling down the place was.’
‘Aw, you know it was all I could afford. And it’s a nice neighbourhood, good school zone, so will be worth a lot more by the time I’ve finished. Worst house on the best street and all that. And the roof is sound, it just needs some TLC.’ She pouted a little and his gaze zeroed in on her mouth. Plump lips. Slightly parted. The tiniest glisten of moisture. He leaned over and dabbed a drop of ketchup away from her bottom lip. His thumb brushed against warmth. And his body overreacted again in some kind of total body heat swamp, accompanied by a strange tachycardia that knocked hard against his rib cage. The beach seemed to go fuzzy out of his peripheral vision as she blinked up at him, surprised by the sudden contact. Her lips parted a fraction more and if he leaned in he could have placed his over them.
And now he was seriously losing his mind.
Clearly he needed to get laid and quickly. With someone else.
Georgie moved away, frowning. She might have said his name. He didn’t know. He willed his breathing back to normal.
Where were they? Oh, yes. The house. For God’s sake, he needed to get up and go. This was crazy. This irrational pointless need thrumming through his veins. Crazy and sudden and he didn’t know what the hell he was doing any more. Or where this had come from. But he wished it would go as suddenly as it arrived. ‘It’ll be great when you’re done. Lots of potential.’
‘So you said when I bought it. But now I’ve got to capitalise on that. I’ve chosen some paint. I thought a soft cream would be nice and I’ll add colour with blinds and cushions, nursery furniture. I saw a great changing table in a second-hand shop down the road from work—all it needs is a lick of paint, I’m not going to be one of those mums who—’
‘A bit early for nesting, surely?’ He gathered all the wrappers up then stood, offering his hand to pull her up.
She threw him a look filled with hurt, brushed her clothes down and reached for her bag. ‘Well, I’ve got to start somewhere. Nine months flies by, believe me. I see it all the time at work—people often don’t even come up with a name in that time.’
Ignoring his hand, she stood without help and looked out at the ocean. Her shoulders taut, back rigid. Her jaw tightened.
He’d meant that she shouldn’t be too sure that this early pregnancy would last the course, that she needed to wait before she spent money on things. Invested. But saying that would be crass. Distasteful. Working at the fertility clinic, she was well aware of all the pitfalls and rewards of pregnancy. And judging by the way her eyes glittered with any baby talk, she was very invested already.
When she turned back to him her eyes were blazing. ‘You remember that first night in my house, Liam? When we sat on packing crates and talked all night about the plans I had for renovations?’
‘Of course I do.’
‘I’m still the same person. I still have that dream. It’s going to be a fabulous place. Then I will sell it and climb that property ladder, baby in tow. We’ll be zillionaires by the time I’ve finished. It just needs a bit of imagination, more time and a few willing hands.’
There was a long pause in which he felt sure she was waiting for him to offer to help with the decorating.
He’d returned from Pakistan planning on doing just that. But if he got involved in doing up her house that would mean more time spent with her and that was diametrically opposed to his plan. Which had been to ease himself out of her and her baby’s lives. Gently. Without her really noticing. Just longer absences that she could fill with her antenatal classes, nursery shopping, other pregnant friends—because she must have them. Everywhere he looked these days there were blossoming bellies and tiny squawking babies.
But now, seeing her pregnant and the immediate emotions that instilled in him, his plan seemed like a crock full of madness.
So all the more reason for him to get out quickly. He couldn’t be ruled by emotions, he never let that happen in his professional or his personal life. It was too dangerous to do otherwise.
‘Anyhoo …’ Her eyes were clouded now as she blinked away. She rooted in her bag and pulled out a folder of papers, clearly trying to keep her voice steady. Goddamn, everything he did hurt her. She cleared her throat. ‘Here’s your signed copy of the contract from the clinic. Helen was supposed to mail it to you, but I offered to bring it along here instead. As you saw, it’s pretty standard stuff. You get no claims, no guardianship or visitation rights, you’re not a legal parent, you have no parental rights… . yada-yada. Just what you wanted.’

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