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He sucked a deep breath of the wintry air into his lungs, blew it out slowly.
Good God, I’m going to be a daddy.
Gripping Maddy’s fingers, he turned to her at last. ‘Truthfully?’ He settled his other hand in her lap, stroked it over the smooth silk covering her belly. ‘I’m overwhelmed and totally petrified.’
The quick smile that lit her face had his heart punching his chest. She threw her arms round his shoulders, her laughter calming the frantic beats of his pulse.
‘Snap,’ she whispered as happy tears dampened his neck.
And, just like that, the fear and uncertainty began to disappear.
He pulled back, held her at arm’s length. ‘We must be nuts,’ he murmured as pride and awe thickened his voice. ‘Are we seriously having a baby?’
She nodded, beaming with hope and confidence. ‘I will if you will.’
He crushed her to him, the surge of adrenalin, the feeling of rightness reminding him of that pure flawless moment when his surfboard caught the perfect wave.
Only this time the giddy rush of triumph and invincibility was even more intoxicating because he knew it would last for ever—and he wasn’t riding the wave alone.
Ruby
For women who love chocolate and cupcakes
and can live with that extra inch on the thighs!
Like moi!
With special thanks to Lorraine
and the nice peeps at the Lincoln’s Inn Library.
CHAPTER ONE
TAKE a chill pill, pal. This is a make-up emergency.
Pouting into her rear-view mirror, Ruby Delisantro tuned out the blare of a car horn from behind her and concentrated on applying a quick coat of Rose Blush Everstay lip gloss to calm jittery nerves.
She’d had the small but exclusive chain of Hampstead brasseries on her hit list for over a year. It had taken her months to get this afternoon’s appointment with their chef and she wanted to look her absolute best before she started the long search for a parking space.
The squeal of brakes and the teeth-jarring jolt that followed was a little harder to ignore though—as it shot her forty-quid tube of Rose Blush straight up her nose.
‘For Pete’s sake!’
Extricating the lipstick from her left nostril and hastily repairing the damage, she leapt out of her car. Having some bozo rear-end her was not the best way to prepare for her career-defining moment. Plus she’d just had Scarlett serviced and MOT’d at a cost of two hundred and twenty pounds. If any harm had been done to her beloved Bug, someone was going to die.
‘Hey, hotshot. What’s your problem? Don’t you know where your brake pedal is?’ she yelled at the man shielded behind the windscreen of the fancy Italian convertible pressed up against her bumper.
Typical. Only in Hampstead. A boy racer driving a lot more car than he can handle.
Gripping the top of the windscreen, Boy Racer jerked upright and jumped out of his car in one athletic movement. Ruby’s lungs ceased to function and the fervent wish that she’d actually lost the six pounds she’d been debating losing for nearly a decade flitted through her mind.
This was no boy. This was most definitely a man.
A tall, strong, long-limbed, super-gorgeous man with close-cropped dark hair, broad shoulders and slim hips expertly displayed in worn, low-slung jeans. His eyes were disguised behind a pair of expensive sunglasses, but the manly dent in his chin and the shadow of stubble defining chiselled cheeks weren’t doing a thing for Ruby’s breathing difficulties, especially when his head dipped.
Is he checking me out?
‘What’s my problem?’ He threw up his hands, making his muscular torso ripple under a T-shirt emblazoned with the slogan: ‘Barristers do it on a trial basis.’ ‘What’s your problem, lady? You’re parked in the middle of the road.’
