The Billionaire's Baby. Nicola Marsh
to do was kick him out.
For as much as she wanted him to walk right back out that door and never come back—he was good at that—a huge part of her clamoured to know where he’d been, what he’d been doing and why he’d ripped their perfect world apart.
‘You don’t know what I want anymore,’ she said, hating the flare of hurt in his eyes and how much her heart ached in response.
‘I’d like to.’
His intent was clear, and she inhaled sharply, his poignantly familiar, fresh outdoorsy scent reminiscent of crushed cedar leaves in a spring shower, the tantalising trace filling her nose, her lungs, making her want to lean into the soft, sensitive spot under his jaw and nuzzle him as she used to.
Ignoring the incredible yearning to do just that, she rattled the keys.
‘I’m closing up.’
He raised an eyebrow and glanced at the lights she’d dimmed. ‘I can see that, but we really need to talk.’
‘Actually, we don’t.’
Because if she let him talk, let him explain why he’d run out on her all those years ago, she’d be compelled to relive the pain, and there was no way she’d go through that heart-break again.
She’d built a new life in the years since he’d split, a better life, an independent life where she didn’t need anything or anyone, and she’d like to keep it that way.
Leaning forward, he touched her cheek, the calluses on his finger-pads rasping against her skin and sending a tiny shiver of longing through her.
She remembered all too well how those work-roughened hands felt caressing her body, how gentle yet arousing they could be. How they used to circle her waist, lift her up and spin her around till she was dizzy with the motion and the sheer joy of being with him. How strong and sure they’d been, stroking her that very first time, initiating her into pleasures she’d only ever dreamed about.
‘I won’t take no for an answer.’
His fingertips lingered an exquisite moment longer before he dropped his hand.
Shaking her head, she bit back the urge to laugh. There was nothing remotely funny about having the man she’d once loved badger her after all this time, but the young, impulsive guy she’d known back then had never been this determined, this stubborn.
‘One coffee then you’re out of here. Take it or leave it.’
‘I’ll take it.’
‘Fine. Choose your poison and make it snappy.’
He grinned as he rocked back on his heels, hands thrust into pockets, confident he’d wear her down.
As if.
‘You sure have a way with customers.’
‘You’re not a customer, you’re my…’ She trailed off, not wanting to go there. She’d shut the door on the past, why open it and risk the future she’d worked so hard to build?
‘Go on, say it. I’m your?’
‘You know,’ she bit out, sending him a withering glare that made little impact if his widening grin was any indication. ‘You better order that coffee before I renege and bundle you out of here right this very minute.’
He chuckled, and rather than it riling her, she could barely clamp down on the urge to join in.
He’d always done this: made her laugh, made her see the lighter side of any situation—a genuine glass-half-full kind of guy. She’d loved that about him. She’d loved many things about him, which had made it all the harder to get over him.
Gritting her teeth, she prompted again, ‘Coffee?’
‘The usual, please.’
‘Coming right up.’
She swivelled on her heel, realising her mistake a second too late. Now he’d know she remembered how he preferred his coffee. Not a great start to showing him how she’d got over him.
The gentle hand on her shoulder pulled her up, her body’s reaction to his innocuous touch totally flummoxing.
‘Cam, I just want to say hello to some guys I know, and I’ll be back in a moment.’
Amusement sparked in the depths of his grey eyes, as if he were privy to some private joke, before he dropped his hand and turned away, leaving her flustered, confused and staring at a very fine butt.
Hearing him call her Cam resurrected memories of the way he’d breezed into Rainbow Creek one sunny Saturday morning, strolled into her parents’ coffee shop, took one look at her name badge and said, ‘I’ll have an espresso, please, Cam’ with a twinkle in his eye and a smile on his boyish face.
She’d been a goner, instantly falling head over heels for the laid-back, nomadic builder who’d taken a piece of her heart along with a huge chunk of her pride when he’d left.
As for that butt…tight, firm, filling out the seat of his worn denim very nicely, thank you very much…oh, no, she wouldn’t dwell on how long it had been since she’d admired it, gripped it…
‘No, no, no,’ she muttered, grabbing the end of her French braid and fiddling with the elastic, hoping her plait hadn’t unravelled along with her common sense.
Valentine’s Day had really got to her, and, calling the chubby cherub some rather nasty names under her breath, she marched across the café and slid behind the bar.
One espresso, extra-strong, two sugars, and laid-back Blane with the twinkly eyes and charming smile could take his sexy butt and hightail it out of here, leaving her to do what she did best: run the best damn café in Melbourne.
‘Hey, how’re the plans coming along?’
Blane slid into a chair next to the two guys who were helping him turn his dream into a reality.
An adjunct to his dream, he thought, as his glance flicked to the bar, drawn to the sassy brunette paying an inordinate amount of atten tion to the espresso machine.
She’d changed so much.
Her short spikes had gone, replaced by a long plait hanging halfway down her back, the three ear studs were down to one, and the lean body he remembered all too well had morphed into curves. Eye-catching, gorgeous curves he couldn’t take his eyes off.
Though the biggest change was her personality. Gone was the impressionable, spontaneous girl he’d known and loved and in her place, a blunt, confident woman who had no qualms about declaring how unwelcome he was.
Not that he expected any less. For what he’d put them both through he deserved it.
But there hadn’t been a choice, and, glancing around the café, her dream a reality, and back to her deftly making his coffee just the way he liked it, he knew he’d done the right thing.
Besides, she might act as if he was as welcome as a cockroach at her café, but there’d been something about the way her brown eyes had sparked when she’d seen him, the way she’d reacted to his touch…it had given him hope.
‘See for yourself.’ Dirk, the cabinetmaker, pushed the plans across to him. ‘The architect’s made changes to the guest bedrooms, as you requested, and we’ve run with the new specifications. What do you think?’
He studied the tiny straight lines, the numbered annotations, and ruffled the hair at his nape, a habit he’d acquired while labouring over countless financial reports during the years it had taken BA Constructions to become a rival of the biggest guns in Australia’s building industry.
‘Looks okay to me.’
The pungent aroma of freshly brewed coffee, strong and bittersweet, drew his attention away from the plans and back to the bar where Cam was placing a steaming cup on a saucer.
He