From passion, to pregnancy...

To a family for real?

Betrayed by her cheating fiancé, pediatrician Saskia fell into the arms of brooding entrepreneur Malachi Gunn. Her on-the-rebound encounter has consequences she never could have imagined—she’s pregnant! Whisking her away to his Tuscan villa, Malachi makes it clear she must wed him to give their baby the family it deserves. But can Saskia settle for a paper marriage...or should she hope for more?

Born and raised on the Wirral Peninsula in England, CHARLOTTE HAWKES is mum to two intrepid boys who love her to play building block games with them, and who object loudly to the amount of time she spends on the computer. When she isn’t writing—or building with blocks—she is company director for a small Anglo/French construction firm. Charlotte loves to hear from readers, and you can contact her at her website: charlotte-hawkes.com.

Also by Charlotte Hawkes

The Surgeon’s Baby Surprise

A Bride to Redeem Him

The Surgeon’s One-Night Baby

Christmas with Her Bodyguard

A Surgeon for the Single Mum

The Army Doc’s Baby Secret

Unwrapping the Neurosurgeon’s Heart

Hot Army Docs miniseries

Encounter with a Commanding Officer

Tempted by Dr Off-Limits

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Surprise Baby for the Billionaire

Charlotte Hawkes

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-0-008-90215-5

SURPRISE BABY FOR THE BILLIONAIRE

© 2020 Charlotte Hawkes

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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To my boys.

Even as I write this dedication you are running up

and down the decking, arguing over who has had a

pop-up ice cream and who has only had an ice-pop.

But I hang on to every moment of it,

because I can’t stop time and this won’t last forever.

At 7yrs and 5yrs, you are both

growing up far too fast!

xox I love you xox

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

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

Extract

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

SHE COULDN’T HIDE away in here for ever.

Forcing herself to open her eyes, Saskia glanced gingerly around the stark, pristine hospital bathroom, relieved to find it was no longer spinning. She’d spent more time in one of these than she cared to remember over the past three months, but for once she wasn’t here experiencing morning, afternoon, and evening sickness.

No, this time she’d ducked in here because she’d caught a glimpse of Malachi Gunn—looking as solid, as indomitable, and as smouldering as ever—stepping out of the stairwell to her paediatric ward. Apparently her body’s fight-or-flight response had got its wires crossed and so she—the girl who was renowned for her fearless attitude and for never backing away from anything—had made a dash for the relative safety of the nearest ladies’ room.

Not that it did any good, of course; in the end she was going to have to tell him. She had to, no matter how terrifying the idea of doing so might be. Besides, she wanted to tell him; she’d wanted to for the last few months. Desperately. She’d just been too afraid, and had no idea exactly what to say.

Because, really, how on earth was she to tell the only one-night stand she’d ever had in her entire life that he was the father of her unborn child?

In truth, she had been prepared to tell him both times she’d made her monthly pro bono visit to Care to Play, the centre he had set up where young carers could forget their responsibilities and burdens and simply be kids, if only for a few hours each week. But Malachi hadn’t been there since their weekend together, which in itself had set off alarm bells in her head.

Admittedly she hadn’t been coming to the centre for long—and only once or twice each month, and only since her engagement to Andy had unravelled so spectacularly—but as far as she’d been able to tell Malachi was always there, and the kids loved him. And they weren’t the only ones—it hadn’t been long before she’d started counting down the days to her next visit.

The fact that since their one-weekend stand he hadn’t once been at the centre at the same time she had could surely mean only one thing—he’d been deliberately avoiding her.

It hurt more than she cared to admit.

Even now her hand went subconsciously to her belly, where the tiniest bump was just beginning to make itself known. As though the gesture could somehow protect her precious cargo from the idea that Malachi wouldn’t want to know. And from other people who might judge her or cast aspersions.

It shouldn’t matter, of course. Saskia knew that. But you didn’t grow up the daughter of a Tinseltown starlet without having people judging your every move. And she’d never really had as thick a skin as she’d pretended.

Not that anyone else could even tell that she was pregnant, of course. Not even Anouk, who had been Saskia’s best friend since kindergarten and hanging out on a movie set where their rival Hollywood actress mothers had battled to out-diva each other.

Saskia felt a fresh pang of guilt about keeping silent with the one person she had always trusted most in the world, but somehow it seemed wrong to tell other people before Malachi. It was ludicrous, really, since she wasn’t even sure he would want to know.

Besides, work had been so busy lately, and she’d already brought enough drama into her quiet friend’s life by landing on Anouk’s doorstep, suitcases at her feet, after she’d walked out on Andy.

Not that Anouk had ever uttered a word of complaint, of course. No, her friend had merely hugged her and then gone out and found a stunning two-bedroom apartment more suitable for them to share. Anouk had simply made it feel like an exciting new stage in the adventure on which they’d embarked over a decade earlier, when they’d boarded a plane out of the States in order to go to medical school in the UK and track down the father Anouk had never known.

It was bizarre, the way people always seemed to consider her to be dynamic and fun whilst they viewed Anouk as reserved, even a little cold. To Saskia, Anouk was focused, loyal, gentle—all the qualities that Saskia, who hated the way she herself seemed continually to find herself in the middle of some new, unwanted drama, envied most.

Gripping the moulded plastic sink top as she glowered at herself in the mirror, Saskia berated herself. Anouk wouldn’t be hiding out in a bathroom on the paediatric floor whilst she worked out what the heck to say to Malachi out there. Then again, wise, pragmatic Anouk would never be pregnant from a one-night stand in the first place.

‘Well,’ she grumbled at her reflection, ‘you are. So you’re just going to have to face the man and get on with it.’

With a satisfied nod, Saskia pushed herself off the cold plastic and marched across the bathroom floor. Then she hesitated. Carefully, slowly, she opened the door a crack.

And nearly fell backwards as a face loomed in the tiny gap.

‘Oh, Saskia...’ the voice cooed. ‘You’re not squirreling yourself away in the bathroom to avoid me, are you, babe?’

Gritting her teeth, Saskia opened the door firmly and forced herself to step outside. Babette was one of the paediatric nurses on Saskia’s ward, and there was no way she could ever avoid the woman, however much she might want to.

‘No, Babette, I am most certainly not trying to avoid you.’

Babette’s laugh was more grating than tinkling, Saskia thought, and then chided herself for being so uncharitable.

‘Are you sure? Only, I don’t know how I’d get myself out of bed if I were you...’

Okay, maybe she wasn’t being uncharitable after all.

‘Indeed. But I’m lucky enough to have an ejector button built in under my mattress.’

‘Really?’

Babette’s eyes went large and round, and it was all Saskia could do to shake her head.

‘No, Babette, not really. I was just joking.’

‘Oh...’ Babette narrowed her eyes in a calculating manner. ‘Well, it’s good that you still have a sense of humour. Especially now.’

Don’t rise to the bait. Don’t rise to the bait.

‘What do you mean, “especially now”?’ Saskia couldn’t help herself, even as her skin prickled in warning.

‘Oh, I really didn’t want to be the one to have to tell you, babe...’ Clearly the other woman could barely supress her glee. ‘But I didn’t want you to have to hear it from someone else. I feel...responsible.’

Yeah. Right.

‘Tell me what?’ Saskia managed, her heart now hammering around her chest so hard that it would surely leave bruises.

Lifting her hand, Babette waved it so close to Saskia’s nose that she had to take a step back. But not before she’d noticed the huge, glistening stone.

‘Andy and I are engaged.’

Her heart stopped in an instant. She was going to be sick. Again. She wanted to grab the wall behind her just to stop herself from plummeting to the cold vinyl floor, but she didn’t want to give Babette the satisfaction.

Most days the shame of her ex-fiancé’s betrayal didn’t get to Saskia at all. But occasionally it felt as raw as it had ten months ago, when she’d walked in on him and his...mistress in flagrante in that on-call room, barely half an hour after she had been in bed with him herself in their own home.

Today was one of those raw days, Saskia thought with another sickening lurch—although, mercifully, this lurch was a little less intense. Not even when his new fiancée was standing opposite her and smiling superciliously.

‘Isn’t it stunning?’ Babette cooed. ‘Thank goodness! I was afraid he might get me something like a tiny quarter-carat thing that I’d need a magnifying glass to even see.’

‘Perish the thought,’ Saskia managed dryly.

Babette’s eyes widened in feigned innocence.

‘Oh, I didn’t mean any offence about the ring he bought you, of course. I’m sure you must have been perfectly happy with it. I guess being the daughter of a Hollywood diva doesn’t guarantee good taste.’

‘Of course you don’t mean any offence,’ Saskia murmured quietly, ignoring the jibe.

She might have come to terms with her parents’ death years ago, but it didn’t mean she wanted someone like Babette dismissing it as though it meant nothing. Besides which, she was still fighting to quell the nausea as she thought of the tiny solitaire Andy had bought for her, on the premise that he was saving money for a decent house.

What a naïve idiot she’d been.

Then again, had she really been completely oblivious?

Sucking in a steadying breath, Saskia considered—not for the first time—whether she had always known, on some level, that Andy was wrong for her. He had been more interested in using her name and perceived connections to further his ambition of becoming a plastic surgeon to the stars.

Was that why, from the very first moment she had stood on Anouk’s doorstep, surrounded by her worldly possessions, a strange tangle of emotions had tumbled inside her? Sorrow, humiliation, and rage, of course. But then also fleeting lightning bolts of something she had only been able to categorise as...relief.

‘Anyway, I just wanted to tell you personally. I always pride myself on being honourable, babe. And Andy agrees.’

Saskia’s jaws ached from being clamped shut. But it was better than saying that neither Babette nor Andy would recognise honour if it danced a jig in front of them. The woman would only take it as jealousy, and Saskia couldn’t bear for Babette to think that. Or to acknowledge that was her motivation.

But that had been before Andy. And before she’d fallen pregnant with Malachi Gunn’s baby.

How many times had she tortured herself over the last couple of months by scouring the local papers to see if there were any photos of local events where Malachi might be seen with some new, impossibly beautiful date on his arm?

Not that she’d seen any. But it didn’t mean he was pining for her the way she seemed to be for him.

Saskia faltered, then caught herself. No. She’d be damned if catching her ex-fiancé cheating on her with the abominable Babette was going to change who she was deep down. Malachi was supposed to have been her rebound. Up until that night Andy had been the only man Saskia had slept with—ever—and Malachi was to have been her long overdue one-night stand.

Although if a one-night stand stretched into three glorious days and four nights of a long weekend could it still be called a one-night stand?

What was the etiquette?

Who knew?

Either way, despite the sick feeling she had now, the last thing Saskia felt was jealous. Certainly not of Babette or Andy, anyway.

But she really did feel ill. Another wave of nausea threatened to engulf her and Saskia pressed her hand to her stomach. The other woman didn’t miss a trick.

‘Oh, babe,’ Babette crowed. ‘I never expected you to take it this badly. I told Andy it was too soon. I hope it isn’t going to be too much for you, seeing us together at the charity ball on Saturday night?’

Saskia fought it, but the darkness was closing in. Fast.

‘It’s not about you or Andy, Babette,’ she muttered, as her mind fought to battle that little bit longer. ‘I need you to get a doctor.’

‘You don’t need to pretend with me. I understand, babe. Perhaps it’s better that you don’t come...’

Through her blurring eyes Saskia could see that the woman was practically beside herself with joy at the idea that her engagement was causing Saskia such pain.

‘No, Babette,’ Saskia managed. ‘You really don’t understand. I need you to get a doctor. I’m pregnant.’

She just about heard Babette’s shocked intake of breath as her head spun again.

And was that the floor coming up to meet her?

Abruptly, two strong hands grabbed her shoulders. Heat from a body was behind her back. An unmistakably citrusy, woodsy male scent filled her nostrils. And then she was being swept up into the oddly familiar arms of a hulk of a man, and nestled against his shoulder as he carried her down the corridor.

Malachi.

Her mind railed even as her body slumped against him, and by the time she came round fully they were in an on-call room and Malachi was sitting on the edge of the bed, cradling her head, a plastic cup of water in his other hand.

Saskia groaned inwardly.

‘Stop squirming, zvyozdochka,’ he commanded gruffly. ‘You’ll hit your head if you fall backwards.’

Reluctantly, she obeyed, taking another sip of the proffered water, then another, letting her mind stop whirling and twirling like the teacups ride at a theme park. As if water could somehow dampen all that heat and desire which she was sure still swirled around them even now.

At least he had the grace to stand up and move to the chair next to her, instead of being so close on the bed that it felt as though her entire left side was on fire.

It seemed like an age before she could shift position again, moving her legs to swing them carefully over the edge.

‘Better?’ he asked.

‘Better.’ She bobbed her head tentatively. Then, when it felt okay, she nodded a little more confidently. ‘Thanks.’

But he didn’t move. Neither of them did.

How much had he heard?

For several long moments a kind of tenseness swirled around them. Saskia waited for him to mention her pregnancy, but he didn’t. Clearly he hadn’t caught her last comment to Babette.

An odd sense of deflation rolled through her. She should probably be happy he hadn’t overheard—that would have been no way for him to find out. But at least it would have taken the decision out of her hands; it would have meant she didn’t have to sit here frantically trying to work out what to say and how to phrase it. Or even when to say it.

Her brain whirred. Whatever she said, though, dropping such a bombshell right now, in an on-call room during a busy shift, wasn’t the way to do it. And that wasn’t just an excuse. She would do it. Just not here, not now, and not like this.

‘Anyway, I can’t lie around here all day. I have patients to see,’ Saskia began, forcing out an attempt at a jolly little laugh and placing her fists on the hard mattress to push herself to a standing position. Suddenly a tiny rod of hope punched through her. ‘Although...you didn’t come here to see me, did you?’

He didn’t answer immediately, and it felt as though the air had suddenly been sucked from the room. Something dense and heavy was threatening to close over her, and before she could stop herself she began to babble.

‘It’s just...well, with not seeing you at Care to Play these last few months, I was beginning to wonder if you’ve been avoiding me. You know...after that weekend. What we did. Together.’

She tried for another jolly laugh, but it sounded as stilted and awkward as she felt.

Malachi hesitated. It was only the briefest of moments, but Saskia caught it nonetheless. Her heart launched itself at her ribs, slamming against her with painful force. It had been one thing to suspect it, but having it confirmed scraped at her much more deeply and painfully than it had any right to do.

And still she stood, rooted to the spot as he stared at her with a closed expression that said far more than any words could have.

The silence pressed on until she couldn’t bear it any longer. ‘I should go. Forget I said anything. I didn’t intend to make things...’

‘There’s a patient called Izzy here.’ His voice was clipped. Distant. ‘She came in today after falling off a climbing frame. I just brought her mother in.’

Saskia snapped her head up.

‘That’s my patient.’

The seven-year-old girl had been brought into Resus several hours ago, where she’d been seen by Malachi’s neurosurgeon brother, Sol, and Anouk, after she’d fallen from a rope climbing apparatus in the local park. Sol had told her that someone would be bringing Izzy’s mother—who was an MS sufferer—in as soon as possible. She just hadn’t realised that someone would be Malachi.

‘So Izzy is a young carer from Care to Play? I didn’t realise...’ She faltered under the intensity of his gaze. ‘I mean, I haven’t seen her there before.’

‘You haven’t been going that long.’

‘No...true. But Sol never told me it would be you bringing her mother in.’

‘He has no reason to think you and I know each other.’ Malachi shrugged.

He couldn’t know how much that dismissive gesture cut her.

‘How is Izzy, anyway?’ he asked abruptly, his concern evident.

Saskia felt another stab of something she didn’t care to identify. She forced it aside and made herself focus. In all her years as a doctor she’d never felt so torn before.

The young girl had landed on her face and her head and suffered loss of consciousness. Along with a laceration over one eye, and the loss of a couple of teeth, their main concern had been internal bleeds, so she’d been sent for a head and neck scan, with the possibility of a broken jaw. Fortunately the CT scan had come back as clear as they could have hoped, along with all the other tests they had run.

But she couldn’t tell Malachi any of that. Not when he wasn’t technically anything more than her patient’s mum’s lift in.

‘I’m sorry, I can’t discuss this with you,’ she apologised. ‘I need to speak to Izzy’s mum.’

‘Of course,’ he confirmed instantly. ‘I left Michelle with Sol before. She forgot some things in the car.’

For the first time Saskia noticed the small pink rucksack Malachi was carrying. Despite everything she couldn’t stop a little smile from playing at her lips; his evident concern for Izzy and her family was touching. Not that it surprised her. Malachi was as dedicated to his role as co-founder of Care to Play as he was to his multibillion-pound investment empire, MIG International.

The fact that he seemed so utterly committed to helping those kids had been part of what had attracted her in the first place. So different from her self-serving ex.

‘I should go and see Izzy’s mum. Bring her up to date.’

‘Don’t worry. Sol’s with her.’

She tried to skirt past Malachi without looking pointed.

Not because she didn’t want to touch him. More because if she did she was certain she would self-combust. Her mouth was insanely dry. Her body throbbed mercilessly. It was all she could do to keep her brain functioning.

‘The little girl is my patient.’

‘And Sol saw her, too,’ he countered.

‘I’m perfectly aware that your brother is a doctor. One of the top neurosurgeons in this place, in fact. But he isn’t my patient’s doctor now. I am. And, as such, I should be the one to talk to her mother.’

Saskia only realised she’d drifted forward when her hands made contact with his unforgettable granite chest.

She leapt back like a scalded cat, and fought valiantly to drag her mind back to the present.

They’d had a gloriously wild, wanton time together, but she couldn’t afford to rehash it in her mind. She had no claim on Malachi Gunn, and she still hadn’t even told him her life-changing news.

And could she really drop her pregnancy bombshell on him? He had a right to know—but would he prefer not to? Her mind was spinning, and it didn’t help that he was still standing there, scrutinising her.

‘I really should go,’ she said.

‘I’d rather you rested a little more.’ He frowned, looking irritated.

She shifted from one foot to the other, reaching out to place her hand on the door handle. But she didn’t open the door and she didn’t walk out. Instead she shuffled some more and wrinkled her nose.

‘I’m fine.’

He didn’t look impressed.

‘Have you eaten?’

‘I’m fine, Malachi,’ she repeated, more firmly this time.

He lifted his arm past her, holding the door closed with his hand, and for a moment she thought he was going to say something else. Then, without warning, he dropped his arm.

She told herself she wasn’t disappointed, yet it was all she could do to tug at the handle and make herself walk through the door, overcompensating a little by hustling fast to the unit where Izzy was being treated.

With every step she was conscious of the fact that Malachi was following her. It was all too easy to imagine his long, effortless stride as she schooled herself not to sashay her hips or appear in any way as though she was being provocative. No mean feat when her whole body was so hyper-aware of him, her belly clenching. If the baby had given a good, strong kick in response to Malachi’s presence she doubted she would have been surprised, even though logically she knew it was far too soon for that.

It was as though the man was somehow imprinted on her. On both of them. She’d be glad when this moment was over and she could get away from him and back to her patients.

At least, that was what she told herself.

The truth was that she wasn’t entirely convinced she was buying it.

CHAPTER TWO

WAS SASKIA PREGNANT?

Malachi sat on one of the plastic seats in the hospital corridor. Saskia was still in the room, telling Michelle about her daughter, and he was out here...uncharacteristically rattled.

His brain fought to focus; his body felt supercharged. He rolled the idea around his head as if testing it, seeing if it might fit.

Pregnant?

The problem was that he couldn’t be sure. Certainly he thought that was the last thing she’d said to that godawful nurse with the irritating voice, but then he hadn’t been thinking straight from the moment he’d stepped around that corner and caught sight of Saskia—the woman who had haunted his dreams for the last three months.

The blood roared through Malachi’s ears.

And elsewhere, if he was being honest.

When he’d heard her mutter—thought he’d heard her mutter—that word pregnant as he’d approached, he hadn’t really thought a lot about it. After all, she might have been talking about any one of her patients. Or colleagues. But then they’d sat in that on-call room together and she’d been so...odd...that slowly things had started slotting themselves into different places and suddenly he’d found himself wondering if she’d actually been talking about herself.

In that moment everything had...shifted. Kids. Family. Two things he’d thought could never be in his future. Two things he’d sworn never would be in his future. Not after the childhood he and Sol had endured. Not after becoming responsible and providing for his drug-addled mother and kid brother when he’d been a mere ten years old. He’d endured enough responsibility and commitment to last a lifetime, and he’d sworn to himself he would never put himself through any more as an adult.

Nor would he put any kid through the trauma of having someone as detached and emotionally damaged as he was for a father.

Instead he had dedicated himself to his work, his business, his charity. Partly because he lived for those things, but also because it ensured he’d never have time in his life for anything—or anyone—else.

And now this.

Maybe.

Possibly not.

Yet some sixth sense—the one he had trusted his entire life, the one which had allowed his eight-year-old self to keep his brother and mother together and a roof over their heads, the one which had helped him make his first six-figure sum by the age of fifteen, his first million by the age of eighteen, the one which had ensured he could send his brother to medical school and make MIG International a global business—told him it was true.

No wonder his entire world was teetering so precariously on the edge of some black abyss.

How was it that in the blink of an eye everything he’d worked for could suddenly be hovering over some unknown precipice? Everything that made him...him gone in one word.

Pregnant.

His body went cold. His brain fought to process this new information and make some kind of sense out of it. But the only thing it could come up with was that any baby couldn’t be his. They’d used protection.

He always used protection.

Except that first time, when all his usual rules had splintered and shattered one by one. Not least any thought to the notion of protection.

Which meant that he had no one else to blame for the fact that a baby wasn’t wholly out of the question.

So how the hell was any kid to cope with him as a father?

Malachi’s mind hurtled along like a car with no brakes. He was usually controlled, intuitive—effective when it came to dealing with business problems put in front of him—but right now he felt as if the ground beneath his feet was opening up. Instead of focusing on the issue all he could picture was her lush naked body, spread out before him like some kind of personal offering. He could still practically feel the heat from her mouth, as wild as it was sweet.

He couldn’t say she’d been experienced, or skilled, and yet he’d never replayed sex with any other woman the way he’d replayed those nights with Saskia.

Why?

Maybe because he’d been lusting after her from the moment she’d walked into Care to Play as a medical liaison volunteer a few months earlier. Somehow during the so-called interview she’d ended up telling him about her failed engagement and her cheating fiancé, and she’d been so refreshingly open with him that he’d found himself captivated, wondering what kind of an idiot man would let a woman like Saskia slip through his fingers.

He’d had no intention of acting on the attraction, of course. Even as it had sizzled between them for months he’d been determined not to go there. Firstly, she was bound to be rebounding, and secondly she was a volunteer at the centre that he’d set up, and he’d told himself that was tantamount to making him her boss.

He’d even said those very words to her that evening at the nightclub, several months later, when Saskia, Sol, and a group of their Moorlands General colleagues had been letting loose for once, and she’d laughed in his face. Confident, sassy and oh-so-sexy, she’d told him in no uncertain terms that he was nothing like her boss. She’d also told him that maybe a rebound fling was exactly what she needed, given that she’d never had a one-night stand in her life before.

And he’d believed her. More than that, he had wanted to believe her. Because she’d spoken to something utterly primal deep within him...and what was the harm of a one-night stand?

Only he hadn’t been able to let her go that night. Or the next night. Or the next.

It had been the most indulgent, incredible long weekend Malachi could ever have imagined, and when she’d finally left he hadn’t been prepared for how quiet—how empty—his luxury bachelor pad would suddenly feel. As ridiculous as that was.

He’d fantasised about her returning with a sharpness that punctured him. Whether because he knew he was nothing more to Saskia than a rebound fling, or because he knew that he didn’t have the time or inclination for a relationship, he couldn’t be sure. Either way, what choice had he had other than to put a little distance between them and avoid Care to Play every single time he’d known she was due there, in the hope of letting that sharpness dull?

Only it hadn’t dulled. It hadn’t faded at all.

If anything, this latest encounter had only proved that he wanted Saskia more than ever—pregnant or not.

His baby.

It was enough to bring his head round a full three-sixty.

Surely he was the last person in the world who should ever have a kid? He wouldn’t love it. That quality wasn’t in him—not any more. It was gone. Spent. Used up all those years ago when he should have been the one being loved and cared for—not the other way around.

A baby?

He could provide for it, but he couldn’t be the all-attentive father figure it would need.

Worse—and he was ashamed of this more than anything—he would end up resenting it, and the time and attention it demanded, the way he’d resented his own mother. The way he’d once resented even Sol.

He still hated himself for those feelings. Even now.

The responsibility he’d had for his younger brother since they’d been little kids had made him so angry back then. And even now, over two and a half decades later, he still felt it. Especially as Sol looked a million miles away now, a plastic cup of vending machine coffee in his hands.

‘What’s the story, bratik?’

Sol frowned before parroting out information in a way that only confirmed that he was sidestepping the real answer.

‘The scan revealed no evidence of any bleed on the brain, and Izzy didn’t damage her neck or break her jaw in the fall, which we suspected—hence why she’s been transferred to Paediatric Intensive Care. Maxillofacial are on their way, to deal with the teeth in Izzy’s mouth that are still loose. We have the two that came out in a plastic lunchbox someone gave to Izzy, but I think they’re baby teeth, so that shouldn’t be too much of an issue. We won’t know for sure until some of the swelling goes down.’

‘I know all that. I was there when the paediatric doctor told Michelle.’

The paediatric doctor.

As though simply saying Saskia’s name would allow his brother to read the truth all over his face.

As though he didn’t know how every inch of how her body felt and tasted.

As though she wasn’t carrying his baby.

Possibly.

Probably?

Shaking it off, he tried for levity.

‘I was asking what the story was with you, numbnuts.’

Not exactly his most convincing attempt at humour, but it was all he had in him. Fortunately Sol seemed too caught up in his own issues to pick up on it.

‘Don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he mumbled, a sure-fire giveaway that he was lying.

Malachi snorted. ‘You know exactly what I mean. You forget I’ve practically raised you since we were kids. You can’t fool me.’

Sol opened his mouth and Malachi waited for the usual witty comeback. But for once it didn’t come. Instead his younger brother glowered into his coffee. Strangely, he was avoiding Malachi’s stare. And when Sol spoke his voice was unusually quiet, his words coming out of the blue.

‘I haven’t forgotten anything. I remember everything you went through to raise us, Mal. I know you sold your soul to the devil just to get enough money to buy food for our bellies.’

The words—the previously unspoken gratitude—slid unexpectedly into Malachi’s chest. Like a dagger heading straight to the heart and mercifully stopping just a hair’s breadth short.

How was it that the very moment he was ready to doubt himself his brother seemed to say the words that made him think again? As if Sol had known just what to say when he couldn’t possibly have guessed about Saskia being pregnant, let alone that it might be Malachi’s.

Or was it just that he was reading into it what he wanted to read? Trying to convince himself that perhaps Saskia and her baby—their baby—wouldn’t be better off without him?

Which made no sense—because he didn’t want a family.

Did he?

Savagely, he tore his mind back to the present once more.

‘Bit melodramatic, aren’t you, bratik?’ he gritted out. ‘Is this about Izzy?’

‘I guess.’

Sol was lying again, and Malachi couldn’t say why he wasn’t calling his kid brother out over it.

‘Yeah. Well...no need to get soppy about it.’

‘Right.’

Downing the last of the cold coffee and grimacing, Sol crushed the plastic cup and lobbed it into the bin across the hallway. The perfect drop shot.

Then, without warning, Sol spoke again.

‘You ever wonder what might have happened if we’d had a different life? Not had a drug addict for a mother? Not had to take care of her and keep her away from her dealer every spare minute?’

It was as though the tiniest, lightest butterfly had landed on that invisible dagger in his chest, beaten its wings, and plunged the blade in that final hair’s breadth deeper. Driving to the heart of the questions which had started circling around his brain ever since he’d heard Saskia utter those words to that nurse, creeping so slowly at first that he hadn’t seen them over the chaos of the fear.

If he’d had a different childhood, would he be greeting this news differently now?

He didn’t know. He never could know.

It wasn’t worth his time or his headspace.

‘No,’ Malachi ground out, not sure if he was trying to convince Sol or himself. ‘I don’t. I don’t ever think about it. It’s in the past. Done. Gone.’

‘What the hell kind of childhood was that for us?’ Sol continued regardless. ‘Our biggest concern should have been whether we wanted an Action Man or Starship LEGO for Christmas—not keeping her junkie dealer away from her.’

‘Well, it wasn’t. I wouldn’t have asked if I’d known you were going to get maudlin on me.’

‘You were eight, Mal. I was five.’

‘I know how old we were,’ Malachi growled, not sure whether he welcomed the reminder or not. ‘What’s got into you, Sol?’

Their shameful past—their horrendous childhoods—they were the reason why he’d always sworn to himself that he would never have a child. Whenever he looked back—which he never usually did—all he could feel was age-old bitterness and anger tainting his soul.

How could he ever be a good father?

Yet if Saskia’s baby really was his—and he still needed to hear her say the words to him, not to some stranger—how could he turn his back on them?

He couldn’t. It was that simple. And Sol raking up wretched memories wasn’t helping.

‘It’s history.’ Censure splintered from Malachi’s mouth. ‘Just leave it alone.’

‘Right.’

His brother pressed his lips into a grim line and they each lapsed back into their respective silences.

He didn’t want Sol’s gratitude. He didn’t deserve it. He hadn’t taken care of their little family out of love, or a desire to be a unit. He’d done it because he’d been terrified of where they would all go if they were split up.

But he’d begrudged every moment of it. Resented the fact that at eight years old he’d had to effectively become a father to a five-year-old—had had no choice but to become the man of the house and earn money to put food on the table. At eight he had felt like a failure every time the electricity cut out and he had no money left to put anything on the card.

He’d sworn to himself that his adult life would be about himself, the way his childhood had never been. He’d been adamant that when he grew up he would never marry or have kids. His life would be his own. Finally. He had been determined that his business—which had made him a billionaire against all the odds—would be his only drive. As selfish as that might have sounded to anyone else—anyone who didn’t know what his life had been like.

And it had been. Nothing had stood in his way. Not his lack of experience, nor the competition, nor any relationship.

He’d been ruthless.

All too often he wondered if the only reason he had founded Care to Play—the centre he’d set up with Sol, where young carers from the age of five to sixteen could just unwind and be kids instead of feeling responsible for a parent or a sibling—had been to make himself feel good about his ability to shake other people off so easily.

He’d believed that he wanted to make a positive difference to other kids’ lives—if something like Care to Play had existed when he and Sol had been kids, then maybe it could have made a difference. He’d even convinced himself it was true.

But now, suddenly, he wondered if it had been just another selfish act on his part. If helping kids like Izzy, who clearly adored her genuinely struggling mother, was less about them and more about making himself feel better for the way he’d hated his own drug-addicted mother.

So now there was Saskia. Pregnant. With his child. And he couldn’t shake the idea that he had to do something about it. He was going to be a father, and fathers weren’t meant to be selfish. They were meant to be selfless.

Malachi was just about to open his mouth and confide in his brother, for possibly the first time in for ever, when Sol lurched abruptly to his feet, shoving his hands in his pockets the way he’d always done when his mind was racing, ever since he’d been a kid.

It was so painfully familiar that Malachi almost smiled. Almost.

‘I’m going to check on some of my patients upstairs, then I’ll be back to see Izzy.’

Malachi dipped his head in acknowledgement, but Sol didn’t even bother to wait. He simply strode up the corridor and through the fire door onto the stairwell, leaving Malachi alone with unwelcome questions.

‘You can go back in now.’

Malachi jerked his neck around, and the sight of Saskia standing there brought a thousand questions tumbling to his lips.

‘Is there anything you’d like to tell me?’ he rasped, before he could swallow the words back.

She blanched, her eyes widening for just a fraction of a second before she pulled a smooth veneer into place.

‘If you want to know about Izzy then you’ll have to ask her mother. As you aren’t a direct family member, it isn’t my place to tell you.’

Was she playing a game? He couldn’t tell.

‘Tell me, do you always faint like that?’

Two high spots of colour suffused her cheeks. ‘Of course not.’

‘Then perhaps you’d like to explain what this morning’s little episode was all about.’

For a moment he thought she looked panicked.

‘That was a one-off.’

‘Is that so?’

‘It is.’

He arched his eyebrows. ‘And why do you think this “one-off” episode happened?’

She shook her head back, straightening her shoulders. It shocked Malachi to realise that he knew her well enough to know it was a stalling tactic.

Or, more pertinently, it should have shocked him.

‘I don’t know,’ she asserted. ‘Like you said, I probably hadn’t eaten properly, so I was running on empty. I didn’t have a proper breakfast and it’s been a long shift.’

He didn’t know whether to be impressed or insulted that she lied so easily. Straight to his face. And then, without warning, anger surged through him—whether at the way she wanted to exclude him or at the fact she thought he was that blind, he couldn’t be sure—but he quashed it, quickly and effectively.

Never let anyone see they can get to you.

Another life lesson he’d been forced to learn from an early age.

So this was the game she wished to play?

Well, he was just going to have to find a way to play against her.

Not here, not now. Not with Izzy injured in that room. Her mother and sister would need his support more than ever right now. They had no one else, which was what made the centre so vital.

Right now he was here for Michelle and her daughters. Saskia and her lies would have to wait.

But if that was her game, then fine; he would play her at it and he would win. He just needed to take a step back and regroup so he could work out his next move.

CHAPTER THREE

‘THIS PLACE IS STUNNING...’ Anouk breathed as she took in the huge sandstone arches reaching up as though in exultation to a breathtaking stone-carved vaulted ceiling.

‘Isn’t it?’ Saskia demurred, following her friend’s gaze, trying to quell the kaleidoscope of butterflies which seemed to have taken up residence in her stomach ever since Anouk had told her she had two tickets to a gala evening and asked Saskia to join her.

A gala evening for a local young carers’ charity.

Saskia had known instantly whose charity it was. Anouk had mentioned something about Sol giving them to her, and something about a patient... Izzy? To her shame, Saskia hadn’t really been listening—she’d been too caught up in her own head.

Tickets to a charity event for Care to Play. As though fate itself was intervening.

Saskia hadn’t even asked how her friend had got the tickets, or why. She just knew that Malachi would be there and that this was her chance to do what she should have done two months ago. She had to tell him about the baby. Whatever he chose to do after that was his business.

‘I feel positively shabby by comparison.’

Anouk was still gazing at the architecture and Saskia laughed, grateful for the momentary distraction.

‘Well, you don’t look it,’ she told her friend. ‘You look like you’re sparkling, and it isn’t just the new dress. Although I’m glad you let me talk you into buying it.’

‘I’m glad I let you talk me into buying it, too,’ admitted Anouk, smoothing her hands over her dress as though she was nervous.

‘You look totally Hollywood,’ Saskia assured her wryly, knowing that it would break whatever tension her friend appeared to be feeling.

‘Don’t.’ Anouk shuddered on cue. ‘I think I’ve had enough of Hollywood to last me a lifetime.’

‘Me, too.’ More than anyone else could ever possibly know, thought Saskia. ‘But still, the look is good.’

‘Maybe I should be in a more festive colour.’

Anouk glanced at Saskia’s own dress enviously—another much-needed boost to Saskia’s uncharacteristically wavering confidence.

In fact, her friend had already waxed lyrical about the ‘stunning’ emerald dress, claiming that it might have looked gorgeous on the rack but ‘on your voluptuously feminine body it looks entirely bespoke’.

For a moment Saskia had been worried that it had been code for, I can tell you’re pregnant and it’s beginning to show. Even though Saskia knew she wasn’t showing at all. There wasn’t a hint of any swell over her abdomen yet, and she couldn’t help wondering if it was this lack of physical manifestation of her pregnancy which had stalled her in seeking Malachi out at MIG International when he hadn’t shown up at Care to Play.

As if a part of her believed he might doubt what she was saying if he couldn’t see it for himself.

‘I think I look like a Christmas tree.’ Saskia made herself laugh again, with a wave of her hand towards the glorious eighteen-foot work of art which dominated the entrance of the venue. ‘Although if I looked that amazing I’d be happy.’

‘You look even better and you know it.’ Anouk replied instantly. ‘You’ve only just walked in and you’ve turned a dozen heads.’

And yet there was only one head she wanted to turn. Supposed rebound or not.

‘They’re probably looking at you—and, either way, I don’t care. Tonight, Anouk, we’re going to relax and enjoy ourselves.’

‘We are?’

‘We are,’ Saskia said firmly, hoping she was convincing her friend even if she wasn’t convincing herself.

She snagged a champagne flute from the tray of a passing waiter, for something to do with her hands, before realising she couldn’t drink it and passing it straight to Anouk. ‘Starting with this.’

‘You still feeling sick?’ Anouk frowned, eying her with a little too much intensity.

‘Yeah,’ she lied, and another stab of guilt shot through her as she tried to suppress the heat flooding her cheeks.

Anouk didn’t look convinced. If anything, her friend seemed to tense, as though she knew.

The guilt pressed in harder. They’d never deceived each other in over twenty-five years. As soon as she’d told Malachi she would tell Anouk. Why hadn’t she told her before? Was it because she’d always known that, much as her best friend had never encouraged her to leave her ex-fiancé, Anouk had never really taken to Andy?

Ironically, Anouk had even apologised on the one occasion when Saskia had pressed her for an opinion, only for her friend to tell her that whenever she looked at Andy all she saw was another playboy—just like Anouk’s mother’s lovers.

‘Relax.’ Saskia nudged her gently now. ‘Enjoy your drink.’

‘I don’t really like...’ Anouk began, but her friend shushed her.

‘You do tonight.’

Anouk balked, and Saskia knew that all Anouk could see was her mother, downing glasses of wine and popping pills.

‘One glass doesn’t make you your mother.’ Saskia linked her arm through Anouk’s, reading her mind.

It was Anouk’s turn to offer a rueful smile. ‘That obvious, huh?’

‘Only to me. Now, come on, forget about your mother and enjoy this evening. You and I both deserve a bit of time off—and, anyway, we’re supporting a good cause.’

‘We are, aren’t we?’ Anouk nodded, dipping her head and taking a tentative sip.

Saskia told herself to stop scanning the room for Malachi, like some meerkat on watch duty. If it was meant to happen tonight, then it would. Otherwise she would go to his offices in the morning and she would finally tell him.

He had a right to know. And he had a right not to want to be involved.

She wouldn’t force him.

He would have to want her. And their child.

‘A word.’

Every inch of her skin prickled into goosebumps at the rich, deep sound of Malachi’s voice in her ear. As lethally silky as the hand sliding around her elbow even now.

And something about the tone sent a warning whisper coiling its way through her body.

He couldn’t know about the baby, could he?

Unless he’d spoken to Babette.

Saskia cursed inwardly. She was an idiot for letting that woman get to her enough to tell her a single thing, let alone for Babette to be the first person to find out that she was pregnant.

She couldn’t shake the idea that Malachi knew and, worse, that he’d found out from her ex-fiancé’s new fiancée instead of straight from her. It was little wonder that the air between them positively hummed with barely restrained tension.

Saskia wasn’t sure why she allowed him to lead her across the ballroom at the charity gala without even a word of objection.

She’d only managed to slip away from Anouk by taking advantage of Sol’s unexpected appearance to pretend she was going to check the seating plan. Just so that she could see if she could find Malachi.

And now he’d found her.

If he’d come to say what she feared then she had only herself to blame. She should have told him herself. The unspoken accusations already bombarding her were her own fault for being such a coward. And the longer the silence the more forcefully they hurtled into her, leaving her edgy and agitated and full of apprehension—and something else which she didn’t care to examine too closely at all.

As if Malachi knew that the uncertainty was unsettling her, he seemed to be prolonging it, by not speaking another word until they were near the now deserted entrance, well away from the beautiful, well-heeled crowd bustling inside the ballroom, each jostling to set themselves ahead of the pack. Too many of them would be competing with each other to write the biggest cheques just to prove who was higher up the food chain.

It was disheartening to see just how few of them were actually there because they cared about the charity. About the kids.

Like Malachi does?

Abruptly Saskia pulled her head back to the present just as Malachi stopped, turning her to face him before he released her. The fierce, furious expression on his face was one she hadn’t ever seen before, but she feared she could read it in an instant.

‘It’s mine.’

So that answered that question, at least.

Malachi knew she was pregnant, and whether Babette had told him, or someone else had, it hardly seemed to matter now.

Saskia fought to breathe. It was as though someone was sitting on her chest, squashing her lungs, stealing her air. Perhaps it was at the sight of the utterly masculine, foreboding figure in front of her. Or maybe it was because he was suddenly watching her with a cold, hostile expression in those eyes, when up until now she’d only ever known them to be kind and friendly—the colour of the richest, warmest cognac in his enviable drinks cabinet.

Every thought fell from her head, and everything tumbled around her. Her heart accelerated so fast she could barely even feel it. Or maybe it simply stopped.

And then suddenly a sense of calm overtook her and she knew she couldn’t deny it. There was only one thing she could say.

‘Yes.’

He tilted his head sharply.

‘I suppose I should be grateful you didn’t make this any more complicated than it already is by lying.’

Then, taking her elbow again, he steered her outside, neither of them speaking a word, and into the back of his waiting car. When he slid in beside her, filling up every last bit of space, Saskia was sure she was going to suffocate from the sheer pressure of the moment.

And all the heat she remembered from their time together—the heat which had been simmering again the other day at the hospital—flooded around her, almost drowning her in its intensity.

Lord, how was she to survive being in such proximity to him when a traitorous part of her wanted to revisit every inch of that hewn, addictive body which the tuxedo did nothing to temper?

‘May I ask where we are going?’ she asked primly, surprised at how even her voice sounded when she might have expected it to be shaking.

The unexpected truth was that it was almost a relief.

‘My place.’

His tone was grim but he didn’t even look at her. His gaze was trained out of the window, as if he couldn’t bear to.

It hurt. More than it had any right to.

‘Why?’

Her voice was sharper than she’d intended, but the idea of being back in his penthouse was daunting. Every room would surely trigger X-rated memories of their weekend together—and she already had enough of them in her own brain, without returning to the scene of the crime.

His head swivelled slowly to face her and abruptly she decided she preferred him staring out of the window after all.

‘To discuss how we proceed from here.’

His low, controlled voice didn’t fool Saskia for a second. And there was a carefully restrained fury in the cognac depths of his eyes—though whether that was because she was pregnant or because she had concealed it from him, she couldn’t quite be certain.

Either way, he sounded ominous. Especially when she already knew what kind of a force of will Malachi Gunn was.

There was something else in those depths, too—and it was infinitely more dangerous than his anger.

Desire.

Still.

She could feel it rolling over her body as sure as if it were his hands themselves.

A low ache began building right there. Right between her legs, deep and insistent, and only Malachi had ever made her feel it.

Good grief, she couldn’t trust herself around him for a moment.

The realisation was like a blow to the gut. If she went back to his apartment it would only amplify her haywire emotions that much more. Until they were completely out of control. Until she was.

Panic clutched at Saskia.

‘Stop the car,’ she muttered abruptly.

‘Sorry?’

‘I said, stop the car.’ She raised her voice, tapping on the glass between them and the driver. ‘I need some air.’

She was vaguely aware of Malachi dipping his head in confirmation before the car slowed. Stopped.

Saskia was out in an instant—but not fast enough to beat Malachi, who had materialised right by her side. He took their coats from his driver, who must have retrieved them from the cloakroom before they’d left the gala.

Why was she even surprised? Of course Malachi hadn’t left the event on a whim. The man never did anything on a whim. Except that long weekend with her, that was.

And now this baby.

Taking her arm, Malachi steered her to the riverside. The bracing air walloped her, mercifully knocking her out of her panic.

‘Not exactly the balmiest evening for a walk along the promenade.’ His tone was clipped. ‘But at least the wind has dropped.’

‘It’s invigorating,’ she lied, turning away from him and beginning to walk.

Anything was better than being pressed up to him within the confines of that car. Remembering the feel of his hands as they had explored every last millimetre of her body with such reverence. The heat from his breath as he had tracked down the column of her neck, leaving her shivering with desire and desperate for more. And the way he had moved between her legs, holding himself up and locking his eyes with hers before he surged into her, making her whole world explode in a riot of colours she’d never known before.

Had that first time been the moment the die had been cast? The moment her journey to pregnancy had begun? Or had that been later, in his apartment? On the couch or on the rug? In the swimming pool or in the bedroom? In his shower or in his bed?

He had claimed her over and over and over again, as if she were his.

She had actually felt like she was. For that one incredible weekend.

And then it had been over.

She’d made herself leave, sneaking out when he hadn’t been able to postpone a conference call for a fourth time, because she’d been afraid she wouldn’t be able to walk out through the door if he was watching her.

Over the last three months she’d told herself that she’d imagined the way it had been between them. That her memories had been blown out of proportion to all reality.

Now, with her body reacting in ways it had no business doing, Saskia was beginning to fear that her memories hadn’t even done reality justice.

‘Is this really where you want to talk?’

Malachi’s rich voice cut through her thoughts. She toyed with telling him that a part of her didn’t want to talk at all. But she knew that would be unwise. Either way, it was better here...where her body wasn’t so assaulted by memories.

‘There’s no one around.’ She shrugged, even as a faint shiver entered her voice.

She wouldn’t last long in this cold, wearing only what she had on. He would use that to his advantage.

‘So be it.’

They managed about fifty metres in silence, but if she’d been hoping the location might put him off then clearly she’d been mistaken.

‘Were you planning on telling me?’ he demanded, without preamble.

When she didn’t answer it appeared that he couldn’t stop himself from goading her—just a little.

‘Or was there some doubt in your head that it was mine?’

She lifted her eyes up to his dark, blazing ones. A sense of belated dignity was apparently struggling to make itself known.

‘Is yours.’

‘Sorry?’

‘Is,’ she repeated clearly. ‘Not was.’

‘My apologies.’ He didn’t look in the slightest bit apologetic.

‘And, for the record, I don’t make a habit of one-night stands,’ she managed stiffly, compelled to make the point even though it didn’t remotely answer his actual question. ‘I’ve slept with two people in my life. Andy was my first. You were my second.’

Another flash she couldn’t recognise went through his eyes, and another thread of taut silence wove its way around them, as if binding them tighter together even in the expanse of the promenade.

‘Is that so?’

She licked her lips.

‘It is. And I know I told you that already. Three months ago.’

He still didn’t answer, and she had to wonder whether her pedantry made her more of an idiot in his eyes or less. Either way, his intense glower did funny things to her insides. The way it had three months ago. And the way it had every time she’d thought of him since then.

Except that this was so much more...real. So much more potent.

‘You should have told me,’ he growled.

Yes, she should have. No matter how she ran events through her head, that simple fact was unmistakable.

Saskia paused. She wasn’t used to feeling so cautious, as though she was on the back foot. She prided herself on being confident, strong and bold. Ordinarily she would have brazened it out. But then ordinarily she wouldn’t have been facing off against Malachi.

Still, she tilted her head up boldly.

‘I know that it was a one-night stand. I understand that. And that this is an unforeseen consequence. But I want to keep my baby, and that’s my choice. It doesn’t have to be yours. Right here, right now, I’m officially releasing you from any responsibility.’

‘Is that so?’

His eyes glittered furiously, and it was all Saskia could do to hold her ground.

Not that she thought she was in any danger from Malachi—at least not physically. But emotionally...? That was a whole different concept.

It made her choose her next words very, very carefully. ‘I’m trying to be reasonable here,’ she offered at last, trying surreptitiously to take a step back.

He took a step closer to her. Just one, single step. But his stride was longer than hers anyway, and it was enough to force her to tip her head back to look up at him.

Enough for her entire traitorous body to leap in thrilled anticipation. Her hands actually itched to reach up and grab the material of his dark wool coat which had no business clinging to every ridge and muscle which she already knew lay beneath.

‘Reasonable?’ he echoed quietly. Too quietly. ‘Is that what you call it, zvyozdochka?’

‘It is.’

Her voice was altogether too raspy for her own liking. And the name he’d called her that first night coursed through her as though it somehow made her his.

She took another step back before she realised how it might look to him. ‘You don’t agree?’

‘Damned right I don’t,’ he growled, taking them both another step backwards, until she felt the cold sea wall against her back and realised she had no further to go, and his arms locked down either side of her, effectively to cage her.

What was wrong with her that she found the whole thing so utterly arousing?

He wasn’t some knight, claiming her. And she certainly wasn’t a damsel in distress.

‘That’s my baby you’re carrying. You don’t have the right to “release” me from it as though I have no say in the matter. As though the baby has no right to a father.’

‘That wasn’t...’ She shook her head. ‘That isn’t what I’m doing.’

‘That’s exactly what you’re doing.’

‘No. I was just...’ She took a breath, trying to get her thoughts straight in her head before attempting to articulate them. ‘You said that I should have told you, and you’re right—I should have. I was all geared up for it the first couple of times I went to Care to Play, only you weren’t there.’

She stopped, giving him a chance to respond. Almost hoping that he would say something to explain it, but he didn’t. Yet his expression had altered and her heart tumbled.

She was right. He had been avoiding her.

‘You were always there before we had that weekend together,’ Saskia whispered, with no idea how she managed to stay upright, to seem confident, when inside she was crumbling like a sandcastle on the beach under the onslaught of the incoming tide. ‘But after that weekend you were never there. At least not when you knew I would be. As though you were avoiding me...’

And still he didn’t answer. He didn’t even move. If she hadn’t known better she might have thought he’d turned to stone.

She didn’t want to hear the answer—she didn’t need to hear it. She already knew the truth. Still, she couldn’t stop the question from slipping off her lips.

‘Were you avoiding me, Malachi? Were you so concerned that if I saw you at the centre again I’d take it as some sort of sign that we were in a relationship?’

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