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“If this child is mine then I won’t dodge my responsibility.”
She looked less than impressed by the idea.
“If you’re talking about money, I think I’ve made it pretty clear I’m not interested.”
“You can’t raise a child on good intentions, Mary-Jayne. Be sensible.”
She looked ready for an argument, but she seemed to change her mind. “I’m heating up lasagna. Are you staying for dinner?”
Daniel raised a brow. “Am I invited?”
She shrugged, like she couldn’t care either way.
“Sure,” she said. “That would be good.”
He watched as she removed several items from the refrigerator and began making a salad. And Daniel couldn’t take his eyes off her. Her glorious hair shone like ebony beneath the kitchen light and she chewed her bottom lip as she completed the task. And of course thinking about her lips made him remember their night together. And kissing her. And making love to her. She had a remarkable effect on him, and he wondered if it was because they were so different that he was so achingly attracted to her. She was all challenge. All resistance. And since very little challenged him these days, Daniel knew her very determination to avoid him had a magnetic pull all of its own.
And he had no idea what he was going to do about it.
The Prestons of Crystal Point: All’s fair in family … and love!
The CEO’s Baby Surprise
Helen Lacey
HELEN LACEY grew up reading Black Beauty and Little House on the Prairie. These childhood classics inspired her to write her first book when she was seven, a story about a girl and her horse. She loves writing for Mills & Boon® Cherish™, where she can create strong heroes with a soft heart and heroines with gumption who get their happily-ever-after. For more about Helen, visit her website, www.helenlacey.com.
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For my mother, Evelyn.
Who believes in me no matter what.
Contents
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue
Mary-Jayne Preston yawned, opened her eyes and blinked a few times. The ceiling spun fractionally, and she drew in a soft breath.
I’m not hungover.
She closed her eyes again. The two glasses of champagne she’d drunk the night before weren’t responsible for the way she felt. This was something else. An unusual lethargy crept into her limbs and spread across her skin. Her lids fluttered, and she glimpsed a sliver of light from between heavy drapes.
An unfamiliar room.
Her memory kicked in. The Sandwhisper Resort. Port Douglas.
But this isn’t my bedroom.
This was a villa suite. And a top-end one, judging by the plush feel of the giant king-size bed and lavish damask drapes. Extravagance personified. Her eyelids drooped before opening again as she stretched her spine—and then nearly jumped out of her skin when she realized she wasn’t alone in the big bed.
A man lay beside her. She twisted her head and saw a long, perfectly proportioned back. Smooth skin, like the sheerest satin stretched over pressed steel, broad shoulders, strong arms and dark hair. He lay on his stomach, one arm flung above his head, the other curved by his side. And he was asleep. The soft rhythm of his breathing was oddly hypnotic, and she stared at him, suddenly mesmerized by his bronzed skin and lean, muscular frame.
And then, in stunning Technicolor, it came rushing back.
The party.
The kiss.
The one-night stand.
Her first. Her last.
She needed to get up. To think. She shimmied sideways but quickly stopped moving when he stirred. She wasn’t quite ready for any kind of face-to-face, morning-after awkwardness. Not with him. She took a deep breath and tried again, inching her hips across the cool sheet so slowly it was agonizing. Finally one leg found the edge of the mattress and she pushed the cover back. He moved again and she stilled instantly. He made a sound, half groan, half moan, and flipped around, the sheet draping haphazardly over his hips as he came to face her.
But still asleep.