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Yes, an inner voice answered him. Of course it was. Because though the beautiful woman knew things about his sister that he didn’t know—that he wanted to know—she was also pregnant. Pregnant. Which meant someone had got her pregnant. His eyes searched her hand for a ring, but they didn’t find one.
It sent an absurd surge of hope through him, and he rolled his eyes as he led the way into his house. He bent down when he heard the scurry of paws against the wooden floor and fussed over his Labrador, Daisy, when she came bounding around the corner.
But she quickly lost interest in him and made her way to the woman he’d invited for lunch. Dylan watched as Jess’s face lit up and she lowered—carefully, he saw—before rubbing his dog vigorously. It sent another surge through him, but this time it was warmth. A bubble of warmth that floated from his heart and settled in his belly.
A bubble that abruptly popped when he remembered that no wedding ring didn’t mean that she was available.
And that a baby meant she definitely wasn’t available.
‘Daisy, back,’ he snapped, the words coming out harsher than he’d intended because of his thoughts. The dog gave him a beseeching look but stepped back and sat, and Dylan offered a hand to help Jess up.
‘Sorry about that. She gets a little excited around people.’
He sucked in his breath at the sizzle he felt coming from her hand. Held his breath when the vanilla scent she wore settled in his nose. As soon as she was steady, he broke the contact.
‘Don’t worry. I love dogs.’
‘Do you have any?’
Sadness dulled her eyes. ‘No, my parents weren’t really fans of pets when I was younger. Or children.’ She laughed breathlessly, but he could tell that it was meant to cover up her mistake. She hadn’t meant to tell him that.
Well, that makes two of us, he thought, remembering what he’d told her about coming home. And because of it he didn’t address her slip. Instead, he approached it from a different angle.
‘Why don’t you have any now? Doesn’t your husband want pets either?’
‘No husband.’ She shrugged. ‘I’m just your typical unwed pregnant woman, I guess.’
She didn’t look too bothered by it, which forced him to ignore the hope that stirred inside him again. ‘Somehow I doubt that.’
‘That I’m unwed and pregnant?’
‘That you’re typical.’
‘You barely know me, Dylan.’
Her eyes met his and it felt as if lightning flashed between them. The seconds ticked by, the current of energy between them grew more intense, but neither of them looked away. Eventually, he said, ‘What are you in the mood to eat?’
A moment passed, and then he could see her force herself to relax. ‘Do you have peanut butter?’
It was such a strange request that it broke the tension he still felt inside him. ‘Yeah, I think so.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘You want peanut butter? I’m pretty sure there’s something more substantial in the fridge.’
‘Peanut butter is plenty substantial,’ she replied defensively. ‘Especially if you serve it with those bananas over there.’
She nodded to the fruit bowl on his kitchen table, and he felt the smile on his face almost before he even knew it was there. ‘Peanut butter and banana?’
‘Peanut butter and banana,’ she confirmed, and smiled. ‘I tried to warn you about what you were getting into by inviting a pregnant woman for lunch.’
‘Yeah, you did,’ he answered, though he struggled for the words because her smile was so...distracting. As was her face—the smooth curves of its oval shape, the high cheekbones, those cinnamon eyes, the glossy olive of her skin, those generous lips...
Even her hair was distracting. The dark brown strands were clipped back into a messy style that he couldn’t decide whether he liked. Mostly because it made him want to tidy it up. No, he corrected his thoughts immediately. Because it made him want to muss it up even more.
Her clothing was loose, hiding the curve of her stomach. That was why he hadn’t noticed she was pregnant at first—though he’d discovered it pretty quickly, so he couldn’t blame ignorance for the fact that he’d flirted with her.
But he didn’t want to think about what he could blame flirting with her on, so he was glad when she spoke.
‘Who looked after Daisy while you were away?’
‘Actually, I got her in London and then brought her back with me.’
Daisy wagged her tail when he looked over at her and love filled his heart. She’d saved him from depression, from the loneliness of his grief and anger. From his guilt. And she’d needed him in a way that was more simple than he could ever remember being needed.
His experience of being needed by his mother and sister had always—always—been complicated. And he blamed himself. He’d been the one who’d chosen to look after their family when his father had abandoned them. When his father had decided that gambling was more important than the woman he’d married. Than his children...
Dylan had been the one to take care of the household when his father’s abandonment had meant that they couldn’t rely on their mother any more either. So yes, maybe after they’d found out the man had died, Dylan had wanted to leave it all behind. And yes, maybe finding out a few days before his father’s funeral that his mother hadn’t been the victim she’d pretended to be all those years ago had given him even more incentive to leave.
But he was back now. Because his sister hadn’t lied to him, hadn’t betrayed him. And it was time that he stopped acting as though she had.
‘Daisy’s English?’ Jess asked, interrupting his thoughts. She snapped a finger and Daisy was at her side in an instant. ‘I’ve never met an English dog before,’ she said, cooing at his pet.
‘I don’t really think they have nationalities.’
‘Really? Because Daisy gives off a distinct English vibe. Like she’d invite me for tea and scones every afternoon at three.’
He laughed. ‘The English actually have their tea—’ He broke off at her smirk, and the laugh turned into a smile. ‘You don’t care, do you?’
‘Not unless I’m going to the UK, which is obviously not happening any time soon.’
‘How far along are you?’ he asked, and began to prepare their lunch. Since peanut butter and banana didn’t seem quite as appealing to him, he decided on a chicken mayo sandwich for himself.
‘Just over five months. Um, Dylan?’ He glanced at her. ‘I know the naked chef is a thing in the UK, but you not having a shirt on... Well, it’s really distracting. Do you mind?’
CHAPTER TWO
HIS EYEBROWS ROSE, and then a grin curved his lips. ‘I’m distracting you?’
‘Yeah,’ Jess said, and tilted her chin. ‘Wouldn’t you be distracted if I made your food half-naked? No, don’t answer that,’ she added quickly, when his grin turned naughty. ‘It wasn’t the right comparison.’
‘Probably not, but I liked it.’ He winked, and something flipped in her belly. She was fairly certain it wasn’t the baby. ‘I’ll grab a T-shirt.’
He left the kitchen and finally air flowed easily through her lungs again. She hadn’t noticed how hard it had been to breathe around him. But she knew it was a sure sign that she was digging a hole that she might not be able to get out of.
And it wasn’t only because of how he made her feel. It was because Jess knew what Anja and Dylan’s relationship was like. And because she knew how much he’d hurt her friend by leaving.
Anja hadn’t even told Dylan that he was going to be an uncle. Or that his niece or nephew would be brought into the world by a surrogate. She hadn’t told him about her miscarriage after years of fertility struggles, or how those struggles and that miscarriage had been the reason she’d decided to use a surrogate.
Or, Jess thought, about the fact that she was that surrogate.
Jess couldn’t say she agreed with her friend’s silence. But then, Jess didn’t understand the dynamic between siblings since she didn’t have any. Nor did she understand what it was like to be part of a real family unit, where hurt and betrayal resulted from a member of that unit doing something the others didn’t approve of.
She could barely call her family a family, for heaven’s sake, let alone a unit.
Anja was the closest thing Jess had to family, which was why she’d offered to be Anja and Chet’s surrogate. It was also why she should have been calling Anja, telling her about Dylan’s return instead of waiting for him to put a shirt on so that he could make her lunch.
Jess distracted herself by looking around. The open-plan living room and kitchen were filled with light from windows and doors that made up most of the rooms’ external structure. From where she stood, she could see a sunroom where she would kill to spend a few hours in the afternoon sun, furnished in muted colours that told her Dylan had incredible style, or had hired someone who did.
The living room was just as stylish, though she wasn’t a big fan of the darker finishes he’d chosen. She couldn’t deny that it was striking against the cream-coloured walls and solid brick fireplace, but she preferred the warmth of the kitchen. With its light waterfall counter and space around the island, it was the type of room she’d always felt more comfortable in. Understated and tasteful. Despite the fact that she’d grown up in opulence. But more likely because of it.
Before she could go down that path, Dylan walked in wearing a blue T-shirt that did nothing to detract from his sexiness. She almost sighed when her heart did a quick tumble in her chest, and a voice in her head asked her to rethink agreeing to have lunch with him.
‘Still hungry?’ he asked and, despite the warning, Jess heard herself say, ‘Yes, I am.’
She watched him go through the rhythms of making their lunch. Watched as he didn’t so much as give her an indulgent smile as he chopped the bananas and plopped them in a bowl, adding a generous dollop of peanut butter as though he’d made the meal countless times before. He finished his sandwich almost as quickly and then offered her something to drink. Before she knew it, she was following him into the sunroom she’d admired earlier.
‘You didn’t have to go to all this effort,’ she said when they sat.
‘It wasn’t really an effort.’ He shrugged and took a big bite of his sandwich.
She followed by spooning banana and peanut butter together, and then lifted it to her mouth. When she’d swallowed, she looked up to see him watching her, a strange expression on his face. She wasn’t sure why it made her feel flushed and, though she wanted to, she didn’t think she’d be able to blame it on pregnancy hormones. It had her blurting out the first thing that came to mind.
‘I quite liked the trees in your backyard before you cut them down.’
‘I did, too. But their leaves were clogging the gutters and, with winter coming, I thought I’d do something about it. You know, make sure the gutters work when the rain comes and have wood for the fireplace.’
Dutifully, she said, ‘The fireplace is wonderful. Your whole house is.’
His eyes scanned her face and she felt another flush of heat. ‘Why don’t I believe you, Jess?’
‘I don’t know,’ she replied, and quickly ate another spoonful of peanut butter. She regretted it immediately when she noticed he was still watching her, and tried her best to act casually. When she’d swallowed, she reached for the bottle of water he’d offered her earlier and drank greedily.
‘I don’t really like the décor,’ he continued as though there hadn’t been any pause after her answer. ‘But I’d already left before it was finished, so I wasn’t really involved with the decision-making. Anja was, though, since we used the same guy for both our places, and I prefer hers.’
‘I thought you hadn’t been back since...since you left,’ she finished lamely, though his expression told her he knew she’d meant to say since your father died.
‘No, I haven’t been back, but I saw pictures of both our places. I think Anja purposely gave the designer free rein to get back at me.’
‘For what?’
‘For leaving.’ His eyes stayed on hers. ‘Though you’d know more about that than I would.’
‘Anja didn’t tell me about the décor at all. I think it might have been before my time.’
‘I wasn’t talking about the décor.’
She forced herself to hold his gaze. ‘I’m not sure what you’re talking about.’
‘About my sister’s feelings about me leaving. You mentioned that she told you more than just the fact that I’d left for business.’
‘Yes.’
‘Care to share?’ He gave her a smile that told her he was trying to charm her again.
‘No.’
The smile faltered. ‘I thought—’
‘What?’ she interrupted. ‘That I’d tell you everything your sister told me?’
He lifted an arm. Rubbed the back of his neck. ‘I thought that since you were her friend, you must know...something.’
‘The fact that I’m her friend means that I wouldn’t tell you what I know.’ Jess set down her bowl and perched on the edge of her chair. ‘You didn’t ask me over because you wanted the two of us to get along for Anja’s sake. You asked me over so that I could tell you something that would help you get along with Anja.’
‘And if I tell you you’re right?’
‘Then I’d say that it was lovely meeting you, Dylan, and wish you all the best for your return to Cape Town on my way out.’
He set his lunch down just as she had, and when he met her gaze his expression was a plea she felt hit her right in the chest. ‘You must have known that was part of the reason I asked you over.’
She considered it. ‘Maybe. But—’
But I wanted to believe that you wanted to get to know me.
She nearly laughed at herself. Clearly she hadn’t learnt her lesson yet. People never wanted her.
‘It seems like you want something from me that I’m not willing to give you. So it’s probably best if I just leave.’
‘No, Jess, don’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because... I’m sorry.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘I’ve handled this poorly.’
‘You’re apologising way too much for someone who’s only just met me,’ she said softly. Coolly.
‘So I’ll be honest instead,’ he replied, his voice tight. ‘I wanted to know...what I was coming back to. The extent of the damage I caused by leaving.’
‘I think you already do.’
He nodded. ‘It would be nice to have some more...context.’
She shook her head and rose to her feet. ‘I don’t have context to give you. No,’ she said when he opened his mouth to protest. ‘Your context should come from Anja. Or your mother.’
His face darkened. ‘I suppose I’ll have to wait for Anja to get back then.’
Jess frowned. ‘You don’t have to. Your mother lives—’
‘Thank you, Jess,’ he interrupted, and stood with her. ‘It’s been lovely meeting you.’
Though Jess didn’t understand his reaction, she knew that he was asking her to leave. She would have been offended if she wasn’t so...curious. It was clear that Dylan had no intention of asking his mother about what had happened after he’d left. And the look on his face told her that there was a reason for that. A reason even Anja didn’t know, or else Jess would know, too.
It was all very interesting, but Jess told herself it was none of her business. Again. She didn’t know why she had to remind herself of that so often, so she murmured her thanks to Dylan and walked towards the door.
‘Jess—’ Dylan said from behind her.
‘It’s okay.’ She opened the door and gave Daisy one last pat. ‘You don’t have to explain it to me. I get it.’ She paused. ‘It was lovely meeting you, too, Dylan. I hope your return to Cape Town is everything you hoped it would be.’
She walked out before he could reply.
* * *
Dylan stared at the door long after Jess had left, hoping that their interaction wasn’t an omen for the rest of his return.
He knew the way things had spiralled between them was his fault. But he’d wanted to know what Jess knew. He told himself it was because it would give him an indication of what Anja knew. Of what his sister thought of him. But, deep down, he knew it was because he didn’t want Jess to judge him based on the only thing he’d done in his life that had disappointed his sister.
Because he’d been disappointed, too, and he knew what it felt like. His entire life, his father had disappointed him. It was the best—or, rather, easiest—word to use to describe how Dylan felt about his father. About the man’s gambling addiction. About his absence. And perhaps Dylan would have been able to put it all behind him after his father had died if he hadn’t found out his mother had known about his father’s problems before he or Anja had been born.
He and Anja had spent their entire childhood trying to comfort their mother after their father had left them. They’d no longer been children. Instead, their existence had been dedicated to keeping the woman who’d borne them from spiralling into a deep depression.
What had been the point of all that when his mother had known what she’d been getting into with his father?
When Dylan had found out, he couldn’t bring himself to tell Anja. So he’d left, and tried to deal with the anger by himself, away from her. His anger at the secret his mother had kept from them. His anger about the inexplicable grief he felt at losing a man he’d barely known.
He couldn’t get past the irony that by wanting to keep Anja from the same disappointment he’d felt in their parents, he’d disappointed her. More than that, he thought, remembering that expression on her face when he’d told her he was leaving again. He’d abandoned her.
Just like his father had abandoned them.
CHAPTER THREE
JESS WOKE UP to water dripping onto her face.
It took her a moment to realise that water was dripping on to her face, and more time to realise that that wasn’t a good thing. She sat up and looked at the ceiling, only to see a long, slim strip of water dripping across the length of the room.
Her first thought was that she needed to close the water main, and that she’d figure out where the water was coming from once she had. But when she reached down to put her shoes on, she realised that she didn’t actually know where the water main was.
It took her another few minutes to figure out that she needed to ask Dylan for help, and she sighed before slipping on the soft boots she wore as slippers.
The entire floor of the passage to the front door was wet, and Jess’s heart beat heavily in her chest as she walked through the water. She locked the door and then rushed to Dylan’s house, and waited impatiently for him to answer after she rang the bell.
Seconds later he opened the door, and Jess found herself staring into a bare chest. Again. Why didn’t he have a shirt on? she thought, annoyance straightening her spine. Didn’t he realise it was autumn? She tilted her head up, and only then saw that his hair was mussed from sleep. Which, she discovered, had the same effect on her as his bare chest.
She forced herself to focus on the reason she’d woken him. ‘Do you know where the water main to Anja’s house is?’
He frowned. ‘Yeah, why?’
‘No time. I’ll explain after you shut it off.’
His eyes swept over her, and for the first time she realised that the only thing she’d done after waking up was put her slippers on. She must look a mess, she thought, wincing internally. But she wouldn’t dwell on it now. Which was probably a good thing since a voice in her head reminded her that she’d woken with water on her face, which had probably made her look even worse.
Thankfully, he seemed to take her appearance as a sign of urgency and he walked past her, barely waiting for her to waddle after him before he was at the front of Anja’s house, opening a concealed hatch and reaching inside. Then he was at her side again, offering her another view of his naked chest.
‘You’re going to catch a cold if you don’t put a shirt on,’ she said, crossing her arms when her comment reminded her that she didn’t have much on either. She was more dressed than he was, but her oversized shirt and black pyjama pants were not exactly the items she’d have chosen had she known she was going to see anyone, let alone him.
Besides, she wasn’t wearing a bra, and she knew her pregnancy boobs weren’t going to politely refuse to be noticed, especially in the cold.
‘If you keep telling me to put a shirt on, I’m going to think you have a problem with me being shirtless. And then I’d have to ask why you have problem with me being shirtless, and I’m guessing that’s not a conversation you want to have.’
As if to prove his point, he ran a hand through his hair. His biceps bulged and her throat went dry.
‘I’m only worried about your health,’ she managed stiffly.
‘Oh, I forgot. Because of your medical background, right?’ He grinned and she almost—almost—smiled back. Instead, she pressed a hand on his hip and pressed gently, much like she had the day before. And, just like he had the day before, he winced.
She gave him a sweet smile. ‘How’s your hip feeling?’
‘Oh, aren’t you hilarious?’
‘I’m not the one trying to be a comedian this morning.’
‘I wouldn’t have had to be anything besides asleep if you hadn’t woken me up.’ Now he ran a hand over the back of his neck, pushing his chest out ever so slightly. She swallowed. ‘What time is it?’
‘I... I don’t know,’ Jess replied as she realised she didn’t. She winced. ‘I’m sorry for waking you up. I just didn’t know what to do...’ She waited a beat. ‘Thank you. For your help.’
He nodded. ‘You have a burst pipe?’
‘Your guess is as good as mine. All I know is that I woke up with water dripping onto my face.’ She sighed. ‘The house is a mess.’
It would be a logistical nightmare for her. Not because she would have to take care of getting it fixed, but because she wasn’t only staying at Anja’s house to house-sit. No, she had just bought her own place and was staying at Anja’s until her new home could be made liveable. It was small, and the deposit had taken most of her savings, but it was her own. A fact that always, always brought her joy.
It reminded her that when she’d cut ties with her parents two years ago she had nothing except her university degree. It could have been enough, especially since her surname meant something in the finance industry she’d been trained for, but she hadn’t wanted to rely on that. She wanted something of her own. Something that couldn’t in any way be attributed to her rich, successful parents whose only concern had been their business.
Not the child they’d mistakenly conceived.
So she’d applied for a job she was wholly overqualified for, doing the day-to-day admin for a yoga studio. She updated and maintained Anja’s website, managed bookings, dealt with queries, emails and, for the past year, helped Anja with the admin for opening her studio in Sydney. It had been a dream of Anja’s as Chet was Australian and she’d wanted roots there just like Chet had in South Africa.
And the job had turned out to be a dream for Jess—the constant stream of things to do a welcome distraction from the past and the parents she’d walked away from.
For two years Jess hadn’t spent any of the money she’d earned on anything besides the essentials. It meant that she was able to afford the small flat she’d bought, twenty minutes away from Chet and Anja’s place. But that flat was a mess.
She couldn’t begrudge it since its state was why she’d got it at such a good price, but it needed a lot of work before anyone could live there. Since Chet owned a construction company he’d offered to do the work for her, and had refused payment. And then Anja had found out Jess’s lease was ending and her landlord was being difficult about letting her stay there on a month-to-month contract and had offered for Jess to stay at their place until her flat was habitable.