Married For Their Miracle Baby

Her smiled died faster than it had ignited, falling from her mouth. She stared back at him, eyebrows drawing slightly closer together. “I think I misheard you.”

“Look,” he said, spreading his hands wide as he watched her. “If you married someone like me, you would have access to the best medical treatments, and you could stay in New York without any worries.”

She did a slow nod. “Funnily enough I’ve been joking with my friends for weeks that I need to find a wealthy husband. Not that I would ever be some kind of gold digger,” she added quickly. “I’m used to having a successful career and standing on my own two feet.”

Blake shrugged. “What if we did it? If we got married so you could stay in New York? I could pay for any specialist treatment you need to get you dancing again.”

Her gaze was uncertain, maybe even cool. He couldn’t figure out exactly what she thought now that her smile had disappeared. “I know why it would be good for me, I just don’t get why you’d want to do it. What’s in it for you? Why would you want to help me?”

“Marriage to a beautiful ballerina?” he suggested.

“Blake, I’m serious. Why would you marry me unless there’s something in it for you?”

Married for

Their Miracle

Baby

Soraya Lane

www.millsandboon.co.uk

As a child, SORAYA LANE dreamed of becoming an author. Fast-forward a few years, and Soraya is now living her dream! She describes being an author as “the best job in the world.” She lives with her own real-life hero and two young sons on a small farm in New Zealand, surrounded by animals, with an office overlooking a field where their horses graze.

For more information about Soraya, her books and her writing life, visit www.sorayalane.com.

For my mother, Maureen.

Thank you for everything.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

BLAKE GOLDSMITH TOOK a slow sip of whiskey, enjoying the burn of the straight liquor as he swallowed. He wasn’t a big drinker, but he’d fast developed a taste for whiskey on the rocks to help get him through the torturous task of attending cocktail parties and gala events. He gazed down at the ice sitting forlorn in the glass. Darn. He either had to go without or brave the crowd mingling near the bar again. Neither option appealed to him right now.

Instead he decided to stretch his legs and head outside. If anyone stopped him, he could blame his departure on needing some fresh air. As soon as the auction was over, he was heading home anyway. He craved the solitude of flying, the closeness of being with his unit when he was serving. If he had half the chance, he’d be hightailing it to wherever they were stationed and not coming back. If only that were an option.

“Excuse me,” he muttered, touching a woman’s elbow as he passed, eyes downcast so he didn’t have to engage.

After a while, everyone started to look the same—a sea of black tuxedos and white shirts mixed with elegant women in sparkly dresses. He should have been used to it by now, but playing the black sheep turned good wasn’t a part he’d ever wanted, and neither was being part of glittering society parties.

Wow. Blake squared his shoulders, stood a little straighter as he stared across the room. She was standing alone, back to the large windows that overlooked a twinkling New York City below. Her dark red hair was loose and falling over her shoulders, lipstick bright in contrast to her pale skin. She was like a perfectly formed doll, her posture perfect, one hand holding a full glass of champagne, the other clasping a tiny purse. In a room where all the women were starting to look scarily similar with their perfectly coiffed updos and black dresses, she was like the breath of fresh air he’d been so desperately craving only moments before.

Blake didn’t waste time. She was alone, which meant she was either waiting for her date to return or actually solo. Either way, he wanted to get to her before anyone else did. He might be avoiding the pressure to settle down, but introducing himself to a beautiful woman would make the night a whole lot more interesting.

He excused himself past a few more people, striding across the room, eyes locked on her. So much for a boring night out to buy some art and make the company look good. His evening was looking better by the second. Blake cleared his throat and smiled when dark brown eyes met his.

“I’d ask if you want another drink, but it doesn’t look like you’ve even touched this one,” he said. “Unless you don’t like champagne.”

The redhead laughed, tipping back a little so her hair tumbled over her shoulders, the unblemished skin of her neck on show. “I love champagne. I’m just...”

Blake laughed. “Bored?”

She grimaced, and it only made him like her more. “Yeah,” she said softly. “You could say that.”

“I’m Blake,” he said, holding out a hand. “Blake Goldsmith.”

She reached hers out and he shook it, her skin warm against his. “Saffron Wells.”

“So what’s a girl like you doing here alone?”

“A bored girl?” she asked.

Blake raised an eyebrow. “No, a beautiful one.”

Her smile was sweet. “I promised a friend I’d come, but it’s not really my thing.” Saffron shrugged. “She’s an artist—one of her pieces is being auctioned tonight, so I couldn’t really say no. Besides, I don’t get out much.”

She might feel out of place, but she sure looked the part, as if it was exactly her scene. Blake glanced down when she looked away, eyes traveling over her blue satin dress, admiring her legs. It was short and strapless, and it took every inch of his willpower to stop staring. She was a knockout.

“So what do you do?” he asked.

“I’m having some time out right now,” she replied, her smile fading. “I’m just making coffee and...”

Blake cringed, wishing he’d asked something less invasive. He hadn’t wanted to put her on the spot or make her uncomfortable. “I love coffee. The barista at my local café is my favorite person in the world.”

“How about you?” she asked.

Now Blake was really regretting his line of questioning. He’d walked straight into that one. “Family business. I’m here tonight because no one else would take my place.”

“Poor you.”

“Yeah, something like that.” Blake hated talking about himself, and he liked the fact that this beautiful woman seemed to have no idea who he was. If he read another tabloid or blog article about his most-eligible-bachelor status, he’d lose it. And the lies surrounding his dad’s death were driving him to drink. So to chat with a woman like Saffron and not deal with any of that was refreshing to say the least.

A waiter passed and Blake held up a hand, beckoning him over. He smiled and placed his empty whiskey glass on the tray, taking a champagne and putting it into Saffron’s hand. He removed her other one, ignoring the look of protest on her face, and then he took another glass for himself.

“I was perfectly happy nursing that,” she said.

“Nothing worse than warm champagne,” Blake told her. “Want to get some fresh air?”

Saffron’s smile was small, but it was there. “Sure. Any excuse to get out of here.”

Blake grinned back and touched the small of her back as she turned, guiding her to the only exit he could see. There was a large balcony, which was probably full of smokers, but the room was stifling and he didn’t care.

“Excuse me.” A loud voice boomed through the speakers, making him turn. “May I have your attention please?”

Blake groaned. Just as he’d been about to escape... “Want to make a run for it?” he murmured, leaning down to whisper into Saffron’s ear. Her hair smelled like perfume, and it was soft against his cheek when she tipped her head back.

“I think we need to stay,” she whispered in reply, dark brown eyes locked on his for a second. “As much as I’d love to disappear.”

Blake shrugged. He would have happily disappeared and made a phone bid, but he wasn’t about to leave the most interesting woman he’d seen all evening. Her dark red hair stood out in a sea of bright blondes and raven-haired heads, the color subtle but stunning. And in a room full of slim woman, she seemed even smaller, but not in a skinny way. Blake had noticed the way she was standing when he’d first seen her, her posture perfect, limbs long yet muscled, her body even more sculptured up close than it had appeared from afar. He was intrigued.

“Thank you all for being here tonight to raise funds for underprivileged children right here in New York City,” the host said. Blake was tall, so even from the back of the room he could see what was going on, but he doubted Saffron would be able to see a thing. She was almost a head shorter than him. “Funds raised tonight will help to provide a winter assistance package for under-twelve-year-old children who don’t have the basics to help them through our harsh colder months. They will receive a warm coat, shoes, hat, pajamas and other things so many of us take for granted.”

Blake glanced down at Saffron. He watched her raise the slender glass to her mouth, taking a sip. He did the same, even though champagne wasn’t his usual drink of choice.

“This is my friend’s piece,” Saffron said, meeting his gaze for a moment. “She’s been working on this on and off all year, as part of her latest collection.”

Blake pulled the brochure from his inside jacket pocket and stared at the first painting on the crumpled paper. He wasn’t the type to get superexcited over art—all he cared about was making a sizable donation to a worthy cause—but he didn’t dislike it. The bright swirls of multicolored paint looked interesting enough, and a quick scan over the bio told him the emerging artist could be one to watch. If he got a worthwhile, long-term investment for his donation, he’d be happy.

“We’ll open the bidding at five hundred dollars,” the auctioneer said, taking over from the host.

Blake raised his hand just high enough for the spotter to see. The bidding quickly moved up to five thousand dollars, and Blake stayed with it, nodding each time now that he was being watched. He didn’t like drawing attention to himself, and from the look on Saffron’s face when the bidding stopped at just over ten thousand, even she had no idea it was him pushing the price up. He was buying on behalf of the company, so to him it was small change, but he was certain it would be exciting for an emerging artist trying to make a name for herself.

“She’ll be thrilled!” Saffron said, eyes bright as she connected with him. “All the other artists are so well-known, and...” She narrowed her gaze and he laughed.

“What?”

“Why are you smiling like that?” she asked.

Blake grinned. “I bought it,” he said simply. “Hopefully she’ll be superfamous one day, and I’ll have a good story to tell and a decent investment on the wall of my office.”

Saffron raised her glass and clinked it to his. “You’re crazy.”

“No, just in a generous mood.” Blake had done his good deed, and now he was ready to go. The auctioneer started all over again, and he placed a hand to the small of Saffron’s back. “Meet me outside? I just need to sign for the painting.” He’d intended on buying two pieces, but he decided to make a donation with his purchase instead.

He watched as she nodded. “Sure.”

Blake paused, hoping she wasn’t about to walk out on him, then decided it was a risk he was just going to have to take.

“You never did tell me which café you work at.”

She just smiled at him. “No, I don’t believe I did.”

When she didn’t elaborate, Blake walked backward a few steps, not taking his eyes off her before finally moving away. He was used to women throwing themselves at him, wanting his money, being so obvious with their intentions. Saffron was different, and he liked it. There was no desperation in her eyes, no look as though she wanted to dig her claws in and catch him, and it only made him want to get to know her all the more. If she genuinely didn’t know who he was right now, then he could be himself, and that was a role he hadn’t been able to play in a very long time.

* * *

Saffron watched Blake from across the room. She’d been dreading coming out, not looking forward to making small talk and having people ask about her injury, but so far no one had really bothered her. Until Blake. She had no idea who he was or if she was supposed to know who he was, but he’d purchased Claire’s painting as if it were no big deal, so he either had money or worked for a company that had told him to spend up. Either way she didn’t care, but she was definitely curious.

The night air was cool when she moved out, but the large balcony was virtually empty. There was a couple kissing in the corner, obscured by the shadows, so Saffy walked closer to the edge, admiring the view. She’d never tire of New York. The vibrant atmosphere, the twinkling lights, the fact the city never seemed to sleep. It had a vibe about it that she’d never known anywhere else in the world, and for the first time in her life she felt as if she belonged, as though she was where she was supposed to be.

“Am I interrupting?”

The deep rumble of a voice behind her pulled her from her thoughts and made her turn. Blake was standing a few feet away, his champagne glass hanging from one hand and almost empty, his bow tie no longer perfectly placed against his shirt. The black satin tie was messed up, his top button undone and his jacket open. Saffy thought he looked sexy and so much more interesting than the rest of the suits she’d seen inside.

“Not at all. I was just admiring the city.”

“You’re not from here, are you?” he asked, moving closer and standing beside her, gazing down at the city as she glanced at him.

“Is my accent still that obvious?” Saffron frowned. She’d lived in New York for almost ten years now, since she was sixteen, and to her own ears she sounded more like a local than a girl from a small town in Kentucky.

“It’s just a little twang every now and again. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but...” Blake laughed. “Small town?”

Saffy gave him a stare she hoped looked evil before bursting out laughing. “A little place called Maysville, in Kentucky. But I haven’t even been back in—” she sighed “—forever. You can take the girl out of the small town, but not the town out of the girl, right?”

Blake leaned against the railing and stared at her, his smile slow and steady as it spread across his face. She should have shrunk away from his stare, from his attention, but instead she bravely faced him. All the years she’d focused on her career, dancing from her childhood through her teens and then through almost all her twenties, she hadn’t had time for boyfriends. But flirting with Blake felt good, and it wasn’t as if she had anywhere else she needed to be or anything else she should be doing.

“So what’s a girl from Maysville doing in New York?” he asked.

Saffy raised her glass and took a sip, wondering how much or little to tell him. “It’s a long story.”

His grin was infectious, the way it lit up his dark eyes and made a crease form at each side of his mouth. The man was gorgeous, textbook handsome with his dark hair and even darker features, his golden skin sexy against the white of his shirt.

“It just so happens,” he said in his deep, raspy voice, “that I have all night.”

“I’d rather hear about you,” Saffy said, clearing her throat and trying not to become lost in his stare, hypnotized by his gold-flecked dark eyes.

“I’m guessing you want to open up about yourself about as much as I like talking about myself,” Blake said with a chuckle.

Saffron raised her glass again, realizing she was drinking way more than usual. She was usually too busy training to drink or socialize. Unless it had been with other dancers, she’d hardly seen anyone else, and she’d had to be so careful with her calorie count and her energy levels to waste on alcohol. She felt good tonight, though—alive and buzzing, even if it was due to the champagne and the smooth talker charming her.

“How about we agree to no personal questions then? I don’t want to talk about work or my life,” she admitted. She’d lived her work all her life as a ballerina, but every night she flexed her leg, only to be rewarded by ongoing shoots of pain, and she was reminded of what had happened. How little time she had left in the city she loved, and how quickly her dream had ended.

“It just so happens that I don’t want to talk about work, either,” Blake said. “Want to go somewhere less...” His voice trailed off.

“Dull?” she suggested.

“Yeah, dull,” he agreed, knocking back the rest of his champagne. “I hate these kinds of parties.”

“I always thought it would be incredible to be asked to amazing parties, rubbing shoulders with the city’s elite,” Saffron admitted. “But I quickly realized that the part I liked was getting all dressed up. The parties weren’t exactly as amazing as they looked from the outside once I’d attended a few.”

“So you’d rather be somewhere more fun?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Ah, yes. I guess you could say that.”

Saffron passed Blake her glass, not bothering to drink any more. She liked to stay in control, and if she was going somewhere with a man she hardly knew, she wasn’t going to get drunk. Blake took it, turning his back for a moment as he found somewhere to leave them. She quickly pulled out her phone to text Claire.

Hey, you did great tonight. I’m heading out with the guy who bought your painting! If you haven’t heard from me in the morning...

Saffy grinned as she hit Send. Claire would flip out, or maybe she’d just cheer her on. Her friend was always telling her to have more fun and stop taking life so seriously, but she wasn’t the one in danger of having to pack her bags and go back to Maysville if she didn’t get her job back. Saffron was serious because her job had demanded it, and she’d been happy to make it her life.

Her phone pinged back almost instantly.

Have fun. I’ll track him down if I need to. xoxo

“Shall we go?”

Saffron put her phone back into her purse. “Sure thing.”

Blake held out his arm and she slipped her hand through, laughing to herself about how absurd the evening had turned out. She wasn’t the girl who went on dates with strangers or disappeared with men and left her friends at a party. But nothing about the past month had gone according to plan, so she had nothing to lose.

“Do you like dancing?” Blake asked as they walked around the back of the crowd. He was leading her around the room, and she could feel eyes on them. Either because they were leaving too early or because of who he was. Or maybe she was just being overly sensitive and imagining it.

Dancing. When in her life hadn’t she loved dancing? “Sometimes.” If her leg didn’t hurt like hell when she tried to dance, she’d love to.

“I was hoping you were going to say no.”

Saffron laughed. This guy was hilarious. “It’s a no. For tonight, anyway.”

“Then why don’t we go back to my place?” He must have seen the hesitation written all over her face, because he stopped walking and stared down at her. “Sorry, that came out all wrong.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to...” Saffron actually didn’t know what she thought, but she wasn’t about to jump into bed with him. Maybe that’s what he was used to? She hoped she hadn’t read the situation wrong.

“I just meant that if we don’t want to dance and we’re bored here, it might be nice to just chill with a drink. Or we could find a nice quiet bar somewhere. It wasn’t supposed to sound like that.”

Saffy looked deep into his dark eyes, didn’t see a flicker of anything that alarmed her. “Why should I trust you?” she asked.

He cleared his throat. “United States Army Officer Blake Goldsmith,” Blake said, giving her a quick salute. “One of the only things I’m good at in life is keeping people safe, and that’s about the only good reason I can give you.”

She was more shocked that he was an officer than the fact he’d asked her back to his place so fast. “You’re in the army?”

“Was.” Blake grimaced. “So much for not talking about my work life, huh? But yeah, you can trust me.”

Saffron knew that just because he was a former officer didn’t make him trustworthy on its own, but she wasn’t actually worried about Blake. She felt as though she could take him at face value. What worried her was how he was making her feel, how desperate she suddenly was to know what it was like to meet a man and go home with him. Not that she could actually go through with a one-night stand, but the thought was making her tingle all over.

“So what do you say?” Blake asked. “I have a car waiting, so we can either jump in and head to my place or duck into a nearby bar.”

Saffron passed a number over and collected her coat, snuggling into it before they stepped out into the chilly night air. On the balcony she’d been so busy admiring the view that she’d hardly noticed it, but now she was feeling the cold.

“Yours,” she finally said. “It had better be warm, though.”

Blake was holding a black scarf, and he tucked it around her neck, his hand falling to her back as they walked. “I promise.”

She walked until he pointed out a black town car, and within seconds he was opening the door for her and ushering her inside.

“Tell me—how does a former soldier end up at a glitzy charity gala with a plush town car at his beck and call?” she asked, curious.

“Goldsmith Air,” Blake said, pulling the door shut as he slid in beside her, his thigh hard to hers. “Family business, one I tried to steer clear of but somehow ended up right in the thick of.”

Saffron knew what that felt like. “Sorry, I know we promised no work questions.”

They only seemed to travel for a few blocks before they were outside a pretty brick building that looked old but had been renovated and kept immaculate. A huge glass frontage showed off a contemporary-looking café inside, the lights still on but the signs pulled in. She guessed he lived upstairs.

“So this is your local coffee place?” Saffron asked.

“I wake up to the smell of their coffee brewing, and by eight I’ve usually ordered my second cup for the day.”

“They deliver to you?”

Blake gave her a guilty look before pushing the door open. “One of the perks of being landlord.”

She didn’t show her surprise. He was definitely not your average US Army veteran! Saffron stepped out and followed Blake as he signaled his driver to leave before taking her in through a locked security door that required him to punch a code in. They went in, and it locked behind them before he was punching in another code and ushering her into an elevator. Saffy admired the old-fashioned metal doors he pulled across, and within moments they were on the second floor.

“Wow.” They stepped out into one of the hugest loft-style apartments Saffron had ever seen. Interior brickwork was paired with high-gloss timber floors, a stainless steel industrial-type kitchen taking center stage. She had to fight to stop her jaw from hitting the floor.