I’m not sure I fully believed in fate, but this is too much of a coincidence to be anything else.
‘Don’t even think about leaving, Irish.’ I prowl closer until there are only inches between us. The scent of her familiar citrus perfume crawls into my lungs. ‘I warned you before, if you keep walking away from me, one of these days, I will run after you—today is that day.’
Heat radiates from her body. Heat and desire. She could try to deny it, but it’s rolling off her in wild, undulating waves. Her body still wants mine as badly as mine wants hers. Baby or no baby.
‘Sit.’ I motion to the leather chairs on either side of my desk.
She eyes the seat tentatively, like she’s still contemplating making a run for it. She can try. But I don’t fancy her chances—even without the stilettos.
She hesitates for a minute before stalking towards the seat and sinking into it, dropping her handbag on the floor beside her. I ease into the chair opposite her, gripping the armrests to stop myself from reaching across the desk and yanking her into my lap. The urge to touch, to drag her into my arms and kiss those full, luscious lips is clawing at my insides like a wild beast.
I need to think.
I need to breathe.
It’s impossible to do either with the woman I’m obsessed with across from me, pregnant with my child.
My child.
I pick up the phone from my desk and dial reception. ‘Send in tea, cake, and a bottle of Macallan.’ I drop the phone back onto the receiver.
‘You always did have terrible taste in whiskey.’ She arches an eyebrow, the ghost of a smile forming on her lips.
‘You would say that, given you’re a Beckett.’ I pinch the bridge of my nose. How did I not see it? When I think back to the first time we met, she practically told me. The memory of her in the water beside me hits me like a ten tonne truck.
‘Water ruins whiskey.’
‘Know a lot about whiskey, do you?’
She laughed. ‘More than most.’
‘So you’re a fan of the hard stuff?’
‘Only when it’s hard, rich, and tastes exquisite.’
Between that and the bodyguard.
I can’t believe I missed it.
The city buzzes outside the floor to ceiling windows, contrasting this stillness in here. We continue to weigh each other up silently. Belle knocks, then enters carrying the tray of refreshments. She slides it onto the desk between us.
‘Do you need anything else?’ If she senses the tension crackling between us, she hides it well.
‘That’s all, thanks.’ I nod and wait until she leaves the room before reaching for the teapot, lifting the lid, and stirring. I pour, and put in the tiniest drop of milk, the way I watched her do it in the Dominican.
She arches a brow but says nothing. I pass her the tea. ‘Start talking,’ I say quietly.
Her spine straightens. Chin lifts. ‘About what?’
‘Tell me about my baby.’ I tear off my tie, toss it onto the desk, and undo my top button. I’d never admit it out loud, but Zara’s sheer proximity makes me physically hot under the collar.
‘Mybaby,’ she snaps.
I love how mama bear she’s gone. It’s sexy as hell. Despite the seriousness of the situation, my lips curl up into a small smile. ‘Fine—ourbaby. I want to know when you found out. Why you didn’t track me down. Why you thought you had to handle this alone.’ My eyes drop to her bump again.
I’m going to be a father.
The enormity of it crashes over me like a tsunami.
