cycling, blading or running along the seaside promenade. On the right, beyond small beach inlets and a turquoise sea dotted with anchored yachts, the mighty volcanic Rangitoto Island stood verdant and powerful. On the left they cycled past coastal suburbia, higgledy-piggledy candy-coloured houses clinging to the steep hillside.
Georgie pedalled hard, keeping him in her slipstream, ignoring his concerned cries. She could do this. She needed to do this to show him—and herself—that she was still the same old Georgie. And if she could also purge those weird fluttery feelings that seemed to happen whenever she saw him, that would be even better. Because this new Georgie who kept popping up with hot thoughts about Liam was unsettling in the extreme.
Usually he raced ahead, screaming over his shoulder for her to go faster, but today he seemed happy to pootle behind. She had the distinct feeling that, in his own way, he was keeping watch over her.
After a few kilometres, pedalling towards towering city skyscrapers, she turned and cycled back to the row of Victorian buildings flanking a children’s playground and large fountain. Toddlers kicked and splashed in the spraying water, watched over by attentive parents.
Georgie braked, imagining being here some time in the future, showing her little one the exciting new world. Making everything a game, lining up her pram with the others, chatting to parents about nappy changing, bedtimes and the terrible twos. Her heart zinged. It seemed that, despite all her best efforts, she was starting to see everything through a different, pregnancy-coloured lens. With a heavy heart she glanced at the young dads splashing around and on the reserve, throwing balls to their sons, cheering, encouraging and, most of all, laughing.
Liam had been definite in his refusal to be a father. She understood that some people didn’t have the need for kids in their lives, but that didn’t mean she liked the idea. How could someone not want to know their own flesh and blood? It had been a question burning through her for her whole life. How could you just walk away and not want to be found, not want to make contact? What the hell ever happened to unconditional love?
It went against everything she knew about him. He was gregarious, funny, and cared deeply about the people he helped. But if he really meant he wasn’t going to be involved she’d have to be Mum and Dad to her child. After all, in the children’s home where she’d eventually settled, one parent was always better than none at all.
As Liam approached she flicked the bike into gear and cycled on to a small caravan advertising fish and chips and ice-cold drinks. ‘Usual? Snapper?’
‘Of course. And a large portion of chips. Tomato sauce …’ He grinned, pointing to a can of cola. ‘And all the trimmings.’
‘I don’t know where you put it all.’ His belly was hard and taut. Body lean. Again with the full-on flush as she looked at him, this was becoming an uncomfortable habit. ‘If I ate half of what you ate I’d be the side of a house.’
‘You can’t exactly worry about putting on weight now, can you?’ He laughed and gave her a look she couldn’t quite decipher.
Having returned their bikes to the hire shop, they walked in step down to the beach and found a spot on the sand in the warm, soothing last rays of the day. Liam sat beside her and they ate out of the paper in companionable silence, pausing every now and then to comment on the food. The fish was divine, as always, the chips hot and salty, the cola too cold and too fizzy. Everything seemed exactly the same as it always was, except that it wasn’t. She didn’t know how to begin to have any kind of conversation that referred to being pregnant without causing another rift between them.
In the end she decided that rather than going over and over things in her head she was just going to say what was bothering her. She waited until he met her eyes. ‘I wanted to say thank you, thank you, thank you for what you did.’
‘It’s fine. Honestly. Congratulations. You must be pleased.’ He didn’t look fine, he looked troubled as he leaned in and kissed her cheek, long eyelashes grazing her skin. ‘You’re looking good. Feeling okay so far?’
‘Feeling a little numb all round, to be honest. It’s real and happening and I can’t quite believe it. I’m so lucky for it to have worked first time round. But it does happen.’ She ran her palm across her tender breasts. ‘No morning sickness yet, but my boobs are pretty sore.’
‘Yeah. It happens. Wait till the varicose veins and heartburn kick in then you’ll really be rocking.’ He gave her a small smile, smoothing the tiny lines around his eyes, and for a second she was ten years younger, meeting him for the first time. All über-confident medical student who had been knocked sideways by the tiniest of beings—so small she’d fitted almost into the palm of his hand. Never had Georgie seen anyone look so frightened by something so frail, the cheery self-assurance whipped from him as if he’d been sucker-punched.
He’d been honest and open and warm. And since then she’d stood with pride at his graduation, cheered him on the sidelines at rugby games, dragged him kicking and screaming to ballet performances and musical theatre, entirely happy with what he’d had to give her. Just a simple, uncomplicated friendship.
But now his eyes roved her face and then his gaze dipped to where her hand was over her breast. Suddenly she felt a little exposed and hot again under his scrutiny. She kept her eyes focused on the top of his head but eventually he looked back at her as if he was going to speak. A flash of something rippled through those ocean-blue eyes. Something that connected with her, something more than warm, which made her belly clutch and her cheeks burn. Heat prickled through her, intense and breath-sapping.
Her fingers ached to just reach out and touch his cheek. Just touch it. To see what his skin felt like. To feel his breath on her face. Her mouth watered just looking at his lips. Open a little. Just a little … Her breath hitched. He was so close. His familiar scent of male and fresh air wrapped around her like a blanket.
Close enough to—
He shook his head as if confused and disorientated. Then he shifted away and focused on the remainder of his food. Meanwhile, she breathed out slowly, trying to steady her ridiculously sputtering heartbeat. Had she imagined that flash of heat? Those feelings?
Yes.
It was all just her stupid clunky imagination.
She would rather die than ask him and be laughed at … or worse. That kind of conversational subject was explicitly off limits and would only cause tension. It was bad enough that she’d created this difficult atmosphere in the first place. But now, to … Oh, my God. The thought flitted into her brain and rooted itself there, so obvious, so immense, so downright out of this world … No. Surely not. She didn’t. Couldn’t.
She fancied him? Fancied the pants off Liam MacAllister? The guy she’d got drunk with, thrown up on, told her deepest dirty secrets to? She wanted to kiss him? Really? Truly? Her heart thudded with a sinking realisation. Things between them were complicated enough, not least because he was going halfway across the world in less than twenty-four hours and she had no idea when she would see him next.
She couldn’t want him, and he certainly wouldn’t want her, especially with a baby in tow. Not now. Not ever. End of.
Hell, no.
Georgie was wearing a soft white lacy bra.
That was all Liam could think of. Not how amazing it was that she was pregnant. Although that was pretty amazing. Foolish and foolhardy and well beyond his comprehension too. But she did have a kind of warm glow about her, a softness he’d never seen before. He was no longer even registering how far beyond stupid she’d been to race along the pavement on two thin wheels when anything could have happened to her.
No, the only thing that took up room in his thick head was that her small perfect breasts were covered in lace.
As she leaned forward to take another hot chip, her top gaped a little more and he caught a glimpse of dark nipples. Cream skin. He swallowed. Dragged his gaze away and looked out at the boats bobbing on the turquoise water. What the hell was wrong with him?
Why, when