The Bridesmaid's Baby Bump

But there on the screen had appeared a baby. Only about six centimetres at this stage, the radiographer had explained, but a totally recognisable baby. With hands and feet and a face. To the palpable relief of everyone in the room, a strong and steady amplified heartbeat had been clearly audible.

Jake had felt as if his own heart had stopped beating, and his lungs gone into arrest as, mesmerised, he’d watched that image. He was a man who never cried, but he’d felt tears of awe and amazement threatening to betray him. He hadn’t been able to look at Eliza—the sheer joy shining from her face would have tipped him over. Without seeming to be aware that she was doing it, she had reached for his hand and gripped it hard. All he’d been able to do was squeeze it back.

This was a real baby. A child. A person. Against all odds, he and Eliza had created a new life.

What he had to do became very clear.

The Bridesmaid’s Baby Bump

Kandy Shepherd

KANDY SHEPHERD swapped a career as a magazine editor for a life writing romance. She lives on a small farm in the Blue Mountains near Sydney, Australia, with her husband, daughter and lots of pets. She believes in love at first sight and real-life romance—they worked for her! Kandy loves to hear from her readers. Visit her at www.kandyshepherd.com.

To my wonderful editor, Laura McCallen, whose insight and encouragement help me make my books the best they can be. Thank you, Laura!

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

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

EXTRACT

COPYRIGHT

CHAPTER ONE

ELIZA DUNNE FELT she had fallen into a fairytale as Jake Marlowe waltzed her around the vast, glittering ballroom of a medieval European castle. Hundreds of other guests whirled around them to the elegant strains of a chamber orchestra. The chatter rising and falling over the music was in a mix of languages from all around the world. Light from massive crystal chandeliers picked up the gleam of a king’s ransom in jewellery and the sheen of silk in every colour of the rainbow.

Eliza didn’t own any expensive jewellery. But she felt she held her own in a glamorous midnight-blue retro-style gown with a beaded bodice, nipped-in waist and full skirt, her dark hair twisted up with diamante combs, sparkling stilettos on her feet. Jake was in a tuxedo that spoke of the finest Italian tailoring.

The excitement that bubbled through her like the bubbles from expensive champagne was not from her fairytale surroundings but from her proximity to Jake. Tall, imposing, and even more handsome than the Prince whose wedding they had just witnessed, he was a man who had intrigued her from the moment she’d first met him.

Their dance was as intimate as a kiss. Eliza was intensely aware of where her body touched Jake’s—his arm around her waist held her close, her hand rested on his broad shoulder, his cheek felt pleasantly rough against the smoothness of her own. She felt his warmth, breathed in his scent—spicy and fresh and utterly male—with her eyes closed, the better to savour the intoxicating effect it had on her senses. Other couples danced around them but she was scarcely aware of their presence—too lost in the rhythm of her private dance with him.

She’d first met Jake nearly two years ago, at the surprise wedding of her friend and business partner Andie Newman to his friend and business partner Dominic Hunt. They’d been best man and bridesmaid and had made an instant connection in an easy, friends of friends way.

She’d only seen him once since, at a business function, and they’d chatted for half the night. Eliza had relived every moment many times, unable to forget him. He’d been so unsettlingly different. Now they were once more best man and bridesmaid at the wedding of mutual friends.

Her other business partner, Gemma Harper, had just married Tristan, Crown Prince of Montovia. That afternoon she and Jake, as members of the bridal party, had walked slowly down the aisle of a centuries-old cathedral and watched their friends make their vows in a ceremony of almost unimaginable splendour. Now they were celebrating at a lavish reception.

She’d danced a duty dance with Tristan, then with Dominic. Jake had made his impatience obvious, then had immediately claimed her as his dance partner. The room was full of royalty and aristocrats, and Gemma had breathlessly informed her which of the men was single, but Eliza only wanted to dance with Jake. This was the first chance she’d had to spend any real time with the man who had made such a lasting impression on her.

She sighed a happy sigh, scarcely realising she’d done so.

Jake pulled away slightly and looked down at her. Her breath caught in her throat at the slow-to-ignite smile that lit his green eyes as he looked into hers. With his rumpled blond hair, strong jaw and marvellous white teeth he was as handsome as any actor or model—yet he seemed unaware of the scrutiny he got from every woman who danced by them.

‘Having fun?’ he asked.

Even his voice, deep and assured, sent shivers of awareness through her.

‘I don’t know that fun is quite the right word for something so spectacular. I want to rub my eyes to make sure I’m not dreaming.’ She had to raise her voice over the music to be heard.

‘It’s extraordinary, isn’t it? The over-the-top opulence of a royal wedding... It isn’t something an everyday Australian guy usually gets to experience.’

Not quite an everyday guy. Eliza had to bite down on the words. At thirty-two, Jake headed his own technology solutions company and had become a billionaire while he was still in his twenties. He could probably fund an event like this with barely a blip in his bank balance. But on the two previous occasions when she’d met him, for all his wealth and brilliance and striking good looks, he had presented as notably unpretentious.

‘I grew up on a sheep ranch, way out in the west of New South Wales,’ she said. ‘Weddings were more often than not celebrated with a barn dance. This is the stuff of fairytales for a country girl. I’ve only ever seen rooms like this in a museum.’

‘You seem like a sophisticated city girl to me. Boss of the best party-planning business in Sydney.’ Jake’s green eyes narrowed as he searched her face. ‘The loveliest of the Party Queens.’ His voice deepened in tone.

‘Thank you,’ she said, preening a little at his praise, fighting a blush because he’d called her lovely. ‘I’m not the boss, though. Andie, Gemma and I are equal partners in Party Queens.’

Eliza was Business Director, Andie looked after design and Gemma the food.

‘The other two are savvy, but you’re the business brains,’ he said. ‘There can be no doubt about that.’

‘I guess I am,’ she said.

She was not being boastful in believing that the success of Party Queens owed a lot to her sound financial management. The business was everything to her and she’d given her life to it since it had launched three years ago.

‘Tristan told me Gemma organised the wedding herself,’ Jake said. ‘With some long-distance help from you and Andie.’

‘True,’ said Eliza.

Jake—the ‘everyday Aussie guy’—was good friends with the Prince. They’d met, he’d told her, on the Montovian ski-fields years ago.

‘Apparently the courtiers were aghast at her audacity in breaking with tradition.’

‘Yet look how brilliantly it turned out—another success for Party Queens. My friend the Crown Princess.’ Eliza shook her head in proud wonderment. ‘One day she’ll be a real queen. But for Gemma it isn’t about the royal trappings, you know. It’s all about being with Tristan—she’s so happy, so in love.’

Eliza couldn’t help the wistful note that crept into her voice. That kind of happiness wasn’t for her. Of course she’d started out wanting the happy-ever-after love her friends had found. But it had proved elusive. So heartbreakingly elusive that, at twenty-nine, she had given up on hoping it would ever happen. She had a broken marriage behind her, and nothing but dating disasters since her divorce. No way would she get married again. She would not risk being trapped with a domineering male like her ex-husband, like her father. Being single was a state that suited her, even if she did get lonely sometimes.

‘Tristan is happy too,’ said Jake. ‘He credits me for introducing him to his bride.’

Jake had recommended Party Queens to his friend the Crown Prince when Tristan had had to organise an official function in Sydney. Tristan had been incognito when Gemma had met him and they’d fallen in love. The resulting publicity had been off the charts for Party Queens, and Eliza would always be grateful to Jake for putting the job their way.

Jake looked down into her face. ‘But you’re worried about what Gemma’s new status means for your business, aren’t you?’

‘How did you know that?’ she asked, a frown pleating her forehead.

‘One business person gets to read the signs in another,’ he said. ‘It was the way you frowned when I mentioned Gemma’s name.’

‘I didn’t think I was so transparent,’ she said, and realised she’d frowned again. ‘Yes, I admit I am concerned. Gemma wants to stay involved with the business, but I don’t know how that can work with her fifteen thousand kilometres away from our headquarters.’ She looked around her. ‘She’s moved into a different world and has a whole set of new royal duties to master.’

Eliza knew it would be up to her to solve the problem. Andie and Gemma were the creatives; she was the worrier, the plotter, the planner. The other two teased her that she was a control freak, let her know when she got too bossy, but the three Party Queens complemented each other perfectly.

Jake’s arm tightened around her waist. ‘Don’t let your concern ruin the evening for you. I certainly don’t want to let it ruin mine.’

His voice was deep and strong and sent a thrill of awareness coursing through her.

‘You’re right. I just want to enjoy every moment of this,’ she said.

Every moment with him. She closed her eyes in bliss when he tightened his arms around her as they danced. He was the type of man she had never dreamed existed.

The Strauss waltz came to an end. ‘More champagne?’ Jake asked. ‘We could drink it out on the terrace.’

‘Excellent idea,’ she said, her heart pounding a little harder at the prospect of being alone with him.

The enclosed terrace ran the length of the ballroom, with vast arched windows looking out on the view across the lit-up castle gardens to the lake, where a huge pale moon rode high in the sky. Beyond the lake were snow-capped mountains, only a ghostly hint of their peaks to be seen under the dim light from the moon.

There was a distinct October chill to the Montovian air. It seemed quite natural for Jake to put his arm around her as Eliza gazed out at the view. She welcomed his warmth, still hyper-aware of his touch as she leaned close to his hard strength. There must be a lot of honed muscle beneath that tuxedo.

‘This place hardly seems real,’ she said, keeping her voice low in a kind of reverence.

‘Awesome in the true sense of the word,’ he said.

Eliza sipped slowly from the flute of champagne. Wine was somewhat of a hobby for her, and she knew this particular vintage was the most expensive on the planet, its cost per bubble astronomical. She had consulted with Gemma on the wedding wine list. But she was too entranced with Jake to be really aware of what she was drinking. It might have been lemon soda for all the attention she paid it.

He took the glass from her hand and placed it on an antique table nearby. Then he slid her around so she faced him. He was tall—six foot four, she guessed—and she was glad she was wearing stratospheric heels. She didn’t like to feel at a disadvantage with a man—even this man.

‘I’ve waited all day for us to be alone,’ he said.

‘Me too,’ she said, forcing the tremor out of her voice.

How alone? She had a luxurious guest apartment in the castle all to herself, where they could truly be by themselves. No doubt Jake had one the same.

He looked into her face for a long moment, so close she could feel his breath stir her hair. His eyes seemed to go a deeper shade of green. He was going to kiss her. She found her lips parting in anticipation of his touch as she swayed towards him. There was nothing she wanted more at this moment than to be kissed by Jake Marlowe.

Yet she hesitated. Whether she called it the elephant in the room, or the poisoned apple waiting to be offered as in the fairytale, there was something they had not talked about all day in the rare moments when they had been alone. Something that had to be said.

With a huge effort of will she stepped back, folded her arms in front of her chest, took a deep breath. ‘Jake, has anything changed since we last spoke at Tristan’s party in Sydney? Is your divorce through?’

He didn’t immediately reply, and her heart sank to the level of her sparkling shoes. ‘Yes, to your first question. Divorce proceedings are well under way. But to answer your second question: it’s not final yet. I’m still waiting on the decree nisi, let alone the decree absolute.’

‘Oh.’ It was all she could manage as disappointment speared through her. ‘I thought—’

‘You thought I’d be free by now?’ he said gruffly.

She chewed her lip and nodded. There was so much neither of them dared say. Undercurrents pulled them in the direction of possibilities best left unspoken. Such as what might happen between them if he wasn’t still legally married...

It was his turn to frown. ‘So did I. But it didn’t work out like that. The legalities... The property settlements...’

‘Of course,’ she said.

So when will you be free? She swallowed the words before she could give impatient voice to them.

He set his jaw. ‘I’m frustrated about it, but it’s complex.’

Millions of dollars and a life together to be dismantled. Eliza knew all about the legal logistics of that, but on a much smaller scale. There were joint assets to be divided. Then there were emotions, all twisted and tangled throughout a marriage of any duration, that had to be untangled—and sometimes torn. Wounds. Scars. All intensely personal. She didn’t feel she could ask him any more.

During their first meeting Jake had told her his wife of seven years wanted a divorce but he didn’t. At their second meeting he’d said the divorce was underway. Eliza had sensed he was ambivalent about it, so had declined his suggestion that they keep in touch. Her attraction to him was too strong for her ever to pretend she could be ‘just friends’ with him. She’d want every chance to act on that attraction.

But she would not date a married man. She wouldn’t kiss a married man. Even when he was nearly divorced. Even when he was Jake Marlowe. No way did she want to be caught up in any media speculation about being ‘the other woman’ in his divorce. And then there was the fact that her ex had cheated on her towards the end of their marriage. She didn’t know Jake’s wife. But she wouldn’t want to cause her the same kind of pain.

Suffocating with disappointment, Eliza stepped back from him. She didn’t have expectations of any kind of relationship with him—just wanted a chance to explore the surprising connection between them. Starting with a kiss. Then...? Who knew?

She cleared her throat. ‘I wish—’ she started to say.

But then an alarm started beeping, shrill and intrusive. Startled, she jumped.

Jake glanced down at his watch, swore under his breath. ‘Midnight,’ he said. ‘I usually call Australia now, for a business catch-up.’ He switched off the alarm. ‘But not tonight.’

It seemed suddenly very quiet on the terrace, with only faint strains of music coming from the ballroom, distant laughter from a couple at the other end of the terrace. Eliza was aware of her own breathing and the frantic pounding of her heart.

‘No. Make your call. It’s late. I have to go.’

She doubted he’d guessed the intensity of her disappointment, how much she’d had pinned on this meeting—and she didn’t want him to see it on her face. She turned, picked up her long, full skirts and prepared to run.

Then Jake took hold of her arm and pulled her back to face him. ‘Don’t go, Eliza. Please.’

* * *

Jake watched as Eliza struggled to contain her disappointment. She seemed to pride herself on having a poker face. But her feelings were only too apparent to him. And her disappointment had nothing on his.

‘But I have to go,’ she said as she tried to pull away from him. ‘You’re still married. We can’t—’

‘Act on the attraction that’s been there since the get go?’

Mutely, she nodded.

Their first meeting had been electric—an instant something between them. For him it had been a revelation. A possibility of something new and exciting beyond the dead marriage he had been struggling to revive. Eliza had been so beautiful, so smart, so interesting—yet so unattainable. The second time they’d met he’d realised the attraction was mutual. And tonight he’d sensed in her the same longing for more that he felt.

But it was still not their time to explore it. She’d made it very clear the last time they’d met that she could not be friends with a married man—and certainly not more than friends. He’d respected her stance. As a wealthy man he’d met more than a few women with dollar signs flashing in their eyes who had held no regard for a man’s wedding vows—or indeed their own.

When Tristan had asked him to be best man at his wedding he’d said yes straight away. The bonus had been a chance to see Eliza again. In her modest lavender dress she’d been the loveliest of the bridesmaids, eclipsing—at least in his admittedly biased eyes—even the bride. Tonight, in a formal gown that showed off her tiny waist and feminine curves, she rivalled any of the royalty in the ballroom.

‘This is not what I’d hoped for this evening,’ he said.

‘Me neither.’ Her voice was barely louder than a whisper as she looked up to him.

He caught his breath at how beautiful she was. Her eyes were a brilliant blue that had him struggling to describe them—like sapphires was the closest he could come. They were framed by brows and lashes as black as her hair, in striking contrast to her creamy skin. Irish colouring, he suspected. He knew nothing about her heritage, very little about her.

Jake thirsted to know more.

He—a man who had thought he could never be interested in another woman. Who had truly thought he had married for life. He’d been so set on hanging on to his marriage to a woman who didn’t want to be married any more—who had long outgrown him and he her—that he hadn’t let himself think of any other. Until he’d met Eliza. And seen hope for the future.

He cursed the fact that the divorce process was taking so long. At first he’d delayed it because he’d hoped he could work things out with his soon-to-be ex-wife. Even though she’d had become virtually a stranger to him. Then he’d discovered how she’d betrayed him. Now he was impatient to have it settled, all ties severed.

‘A few months and I’ll be free. It’s so close, Eliza. In fact it’s debatable that I’m not single again already. It’s just a matter of a document. Couldn’t we—?’

He could see her internal debate, the emotions flitting across her face. Was pleased to see that anticipation was one of them. But he was not surprised when she shook her head.

‘No,’ she said, in a voice that wasn’t quite steady. ‘Not until you’re legally free. Not until we can see each other with total honesty.’

How could he fault her argument? He admired her integrity. Although he groaned his frustration. Not with her, but with the situation.

He pulled her close in a hug. It was difficult not to turn it into something more, not to tilt her face up to his and kiss her. A campaign of sensual kisses and subtle caresses might change her mind—he suspected she wanted him as much as he wanted her. But she was right. He wasn’t ready—in more ways than one.

‘As soon as the divorce is through I’ll get in touch, come see you in Sydney.’ He lived in Brisbane, the capital city of Queensland, about an hour’s flight north.

Scarcely realising he was doing so, he stroked the smooth skin of her bare shoulders, her exposed back. It was a gesture more of reassurance than anything overtly sexual. He couldn’t let himself think about Eliza and sex. Not now. Not yet. Or he’d go crazy.

Her head was nestled against his shoulder and he felt her nod. ‘I’d like that,’ she said, her voice muffled.

He held her close for a long, silent moment. Filled his senses with her sweet floral scent, her warmth. Wished he didn’t have to let her go. Then she pulled away. Looked up at him. Her cheeks were flushed pink, which intensified the blue of her eyes.

‘I’ve been in Montovia for a week. I fly out to Sydney tomorrow morning. I won’t see you again,’ she said.

‘I have meetings in Zurich,’ he said. ‘I’ll be gone very early.’

‘So...so this is goodbye,’ she said.

He put his fingers to the soft lushness of her mouth. ‘Until next time,’ he said.

For a long moment she looked up at him, searching his face with those remarkable eyes. Then she nodded. ‘Until next time.’

Without another word Eliza turned away from him and walked away down the long enclosed terrace that ran along the outside of the ballroom. She did not turn back.

Jake watched her. Her back was held erect, the full skirts of her deep blue dress with its elaborately beaded bodice nipped into her tiny waist swishing around her at each step. He watched her until she turned to the right through an archway. Still she didn’t look back, although he had his hand ready to wave farewell to her. Then she disappeared out of sight.

She left behind her just the lingering trace of her scent. He breathed it in to capture its essence. Took a step to go after her, then halted himself. He had no right to call her back a second time. He groaned and slammed his hand against the ancient stone wall.

For a long time he looked out through the window to the still lake beyond. Then he looked back to the ballroom. Without Eliza to dance with there was no point in returning. Besides, he felt like an impostor among the glittering throng. His role as best man, as friend to the Prince, gave him an entrée to their world. His multi-million-dollar houses and string of prestige European cars made him look the part.

Would they welcome him so readily into their elite company if they knew the truth about his past? Would Eliza find him so appealing if she knew his secrets?

He took out his phone and made his business call, in desperate need of distraction.

CHAPTER TWO

Six months later

ELIZA NOTICED JAKE MARLOWE the instant he strode into the business class lounge at Sydney’s Kingsford Smith Airport. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a surfer’s blond hair and tan, his good looks alone would attract attention. The fact that he was a billionaire whose handsome face was often in the media guaranteed it. Heads turned discreetly as he made his way with his easy, athletic stride towards the coffee station.