Pregnant By Mr Wrong

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If Bailey thought she could fight this kind of chemistry, she had another think coming. If she thought he wasn’t going to be involved in his kid’s life, she needed her pretty little head read.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said. I would have been early except I was outside giving myself a hard-on by looking in at you. How was it possible to be angry with and attracted to someone at the same time?

She shook her head. “You’re not. You’re right on time.” She sounded surprised by this fact and he had an urge to reach out and tuck the hair that had fallen across her face behind her ear. Then to swipe his thumb across her forehead and smooth her creased brow.

Instead, he gestured to the closed newspaper between them. “Was that Aunt Bossy you were reading?” he asked, casually picking it up. He opened it exactly to that page and smiled down at the caricature of an old woman that topped his popular column—the image about as unlike him as you could get.

Bailey’s face turned a pale shade of green. “You know about Aunt Bossy?”

He shrugged one shoulder slowly as he leaned back in his seat. “Of course. Who doesn’t? I read her column every week. She sounds like a very wise woman, offers top-notch advice in my opinion.” He shut his mouth before she got suspicious about his effusive praise.

Now, in addition to her sickly pallor, panic danced in her eyes. “Really?” she whispered.

Yes, Bailey, I read the column and so does almost everyone else in Jewell Rock and all the surrounding regions.

Really, what had she been thinking sending such a letter? Did she think no one would recognize their situation? Their illicit night together might still be secret, but with the other clues she’d sown, it wouldn’t be too hard for anyone who knew them both to put two and two together. Especially once she started to show. That was if he chose to write a public reply, something he hadn’t decided yet.

This would be the perfect moment to come clean. He could add flippantly that if Aunt Bossy replied to her letter (and she didn’t have time to reply to every one she got), the answer wouldn’t appear until next week’s edition at the earliest, and then he’d watch as realization dawned.

Maybe he should just tell her the truth. Take the high ground and demand she marry him. But there were two major problems with that scenario: one, she’d know he was Aunt Bossy, and two, she’d refuse his proposal on the grounds he didn’t love her, but would start calling the shots anyway. Bailey didn’t excel at event planning for no reason; she was born a control freak and he wasn’t about to be pushed about by anyone. Not when his baby was involved.

The way he was playing things might be untoward, but he needed Bailey to confide in him on her own terms, or at least think she was.

While he deliberated, she recovered her shock and said, “I thought you only opened the paper for the sports news.”

It was supposed to be an insult and he felt it twist inside him like barbed wire, but he refused to let his hurt show. “Just goes to show you don’t know everything about me, Bailey Sawyer,” he said, his tone half amused, half suggestive.

Her eyes widened, color darkened her cheeks and for a second there he thought she was going to confess, but before she could say anything, a waitress with a badge announcing her as Daphne appeared at their table.

“Hey, y’all.” She obviously didn’t come from around here. “What can I get for you?”

Quinn looked to Bailey; Bailey looked to the waitress. “Can you give us a few more moments?”

All smiles, Daphne nodded and retreated. Bailey picked up the menu and Quinn did the same. It took him all of two seconds to decide on the chicken gorgonzola sandwich, but Bailey deliberated longer than she usually did over anything. He watched her brow furrowed in serious contemplation and wondered what she was thinking? Was she trying to work out if there was anything on the menu pregnant women shouldn’t eat? Or was she feeling queasy?

He’d been up half the night researching pregnancy on the internet, so he could have helped her make an informed decision, but as he’d already established he wasn’t ready to come clean, he sat patiently waiting while she made her choice. The second she put down her menu, Daphne swooped back to the table and smiled again, her pen poised over her pad ready.

“I’ll have the veggie frittata, please, and a Diet Coke,” Bailey said.

“Good choice.” The waitress scribbled, then looked to Quinn.

Before he could give his order, Bailey spoke again. “Actually, scrap the Diet Coke, I’ll have a club soda instead.”

He smiled his approval. She was doing everything she could to protect their baby. Including keeping him at a distance. This last thought killed his smile.

“Okay. Sure.” The waitress looked to Quinn. “And what can I get for you?”

Quinn ordered his sandwich and was glad when the other woman retreated. “Thanks for agreeing to meet me today,” he said, “especially on a weekend.” He stretched his legs out, pretending the brush against Bailey’s legs was accidental.

“It’s a pleasure,” she said, snapping her legs away from his, her cheeks reddening again. “Now, shall we get started?” Without waiting for a reply, she got out her notebook, diary and a pink pen and got straight down to business. “First things first. Have you got a date in mind?”

“Well, her birthday is March fifteenth, so I guess a weekend either side of that. What works best for you?”

Bailey stuck her pen between her teeth as she flicked through the pages of her diary. “We’ve got Saturday the eleventh or Saturday the eighteenth? I’m free either. Have you checked with...with your brothers and sisters yet?”

“Yep—I’ve spoken to everyone this morning. They’re really excited. And happy that you’re going to be involved.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Really? All of them?”

He reached across the table and took her hand—he could tell the action surprised her, but he didn’t retreat and neither did she. Her skin felt soft and her hand fit perfectly in his. “Yes. We all consider you part of the family. No one wants the fact that you’ve broken up with Callum to change that.”

Or what happened between you and me.

He could tell by the way her gaze met his and her cheeks turned slightly redder that she was also thinking about that night. She rubbed her lips one over the other and finally removed her hand. “Okay. Well, let’s go with the eleventh. If you want it to be a surprise, before the actual date is always better. She’s less likely to get suspicious or think you’ve all forgotten her birthday.”

Quinn chuckled. “I don’t think Mom would ever let us forget.”

The first smile of the day cracked across Bailey’s face. “No, Nora definitely wouldn’t let that happen. She’s going to be delighted by all this. I have a list of questions to ask you to give me a better idea of what you want. Ready?”

He nodded, although party plans were pretty low down on the list of things he’d like to be discussing with her right now.

“We’ve chosen a date, so next is the time of day. I’m guessing you’d prefer an evening event when the distillery has closed?”

Truthfully, he hadn’t given the finer details any thought, but he nodded all the same. He’d pretty much go along with whatever she suggested where the party was concerned, but he didn’t plan on being so obliging about their baby. “Sounds good. Say, about seven o’clock?”

Bailey scribbled that down. “You’ll have to work out how to get Nora out of the way for the afternoon while we set up.”

“I’ll put Annabel and Sophie in charge of that. They can invite her out for a late lunch or something.”

“Good thinking,” Bailey said as Daphne arrived with their drinks.

“Your meals won’t be long,” she promised, before turning back to the kitchen.

Bailey took a sip of her club soda and immediately returned to business. “Do you want a theme?”

“What? Like fancy dress?”

“I was thinking more like a special color or motif. You know, like butterflies, her favorite flower or something. But fancy dress could be fun.” She paused a few moments, then her eyes positively sparkled. “She was born in 1957, right? So let’s have a 1950s theme.”

“What? Like 1950s glamour?” Quinn imagined Bailey dressed as Audrey Hepburn, who had to be one of the sexiest women of all time. He’d always thought the resemblance between them uncanny. “That’s a brilliant idea. Mom will love that.”

“Glamour or rock ’n’ roll. There are a few different ways we could go with 1950s!”

As much as he’d liked the idea of Bailey as Audrey, rock ’n’ roll held more appeal when he thought of his family. They weren’t really the formal type. And Bailey would look just as sexy in one of those poodle skirts. “Let’s go with rock ’n’ roll.”

She nodded. “Good idea. Rock ’n’ roll costumes are easier and less expensive for people. This will be so much fun. You’ll have to grow some sideburns, but your leather jacket is pretty much perfect already.” Then suddenly her face fell. “Hey, when are Callum and...and Chelsea getting married? We’re not going to overshadow their celebrations, are we?”

To be honest, that thought hadn’t even entered Quinn’s head, but he could only imagine how uncomfortable the prospect of Callum’s upcoming nuptials must be for Bailey. She might have been the one to end the relationship, but he’d moved on so fast, and his engagement to the woman Bailey had hired to break up with him for her had surprised them all. “Nope. They’ve fixed a date for the end of May. He’s hoping the restaurant will be finished by then and they can be the distillery’s first wedding.”

“Guess they won’t be asking me to handle that event,” Bailey said wryly.

By May, Quinn realized, Bailey’s bump would be well and truly showing, and if he had his way, everyone would know the baby was his. “Might be a little awkward,” he agreed.

She sighed and Quinn wondered if she regretted losing Callum. It had to be hard for her seeing him (or, at least, hearing about him) being so happy with Chelsea just months after Bailey broke up with him. Part of Quinn wanted to ask and the other part of him didn’t want to know the answer. He knew she thought sleeping with him had been one of her less clever moments, but he didn’t regret it. He couldn’t. Sitting across from her now brought up feelings he’d been trying to ignore for years—since he was a horny teenager and she was his mom’s friend’s daughter, meaning deflowering her wasn’t an option. Not if he wanted to live to see adulthood. Sitting across from her now, he really wanted to sleep with her all over again, which just went to show his lack of scruples—the woman was lying to him by omission, for goodness’ sake, and he was here only because of the baby.

“How is the restaurant planning going?” she asked, an obvious attempt to direct the conversation elsewhere.

“Really good. Mac’s submitted the plans for building approval and is ready to start as soon as they get the go-ahead. Lachlan’s already cooking up a storm creating a new menu.”

“Those brothers of yours don’t let the grass grow when they get an idea, do they?” Bailey said with an affectionate smile.

Quinn tried to smile back, but it was clear she didn’t include him in the same category as his aspirational siblings. No wonder she didn’t think him father material. Having no idea how to respond, he was glad when Daphne arrived with their meals.

“Thanks,” they said in unison.

“You’re welcome. Shout if you need anything else.”

As Daphne left again, Quinn picked up one half of his sandwich and took a bite. It was good, but he couldn’t fully enjoy it. He glanced across at Bailey and saw that she seemed to be having similar issues. Although she’d torn off a piece of frittata with her fork, she didn’t look too keen on the idea of putting it in her mouth.

He nodded toward her plate. The frittata looked and smelled amazing, but she’d turned a little green again. “Is something wrong?”

“No.” She shoved the fork in her mouth and looked as if she might gag.

“So,” she said when she’d swallowed that mouthful, “1950s rock ’n’ roll. Do you want me to talk directly to Lachlan about the food? See what he can do in keeping with the theme?”

When he nodded, she continued. “Would you like a band or a DJ? I know a group that specializes in music from that era. They are the best, but they might be a little pricey.”

“Money isn’t an issue. I want this night to be special for Mom. Can you see if this band is available?”

She nodded and jotted down another note. “Do you still want to hire a marquee?”

“Yes, I think so. Pity the new restaurant won’t be ready in time.”

“I’ll also need a guest list for numbers. And we’ll need to work out tables and chairs and...” She continued listing off various things.

Quinn’s head spun with the decisions to be made, but he didn’t want her to think he couldn’t even handle a simple birthday party, so he attempted to keep up.

“If you have time, we can head on over to the stationers after lunch and select the invitations, or would you prefer to use the Paperless Post app?” Bailey took another sip of her soda.

“Nah, let’s do proper invitations.” He continued with his sandwich as she chattered on about other things they needed to decide on. He tried to sound enthusiastic, but he guessed that later he likely wouldn’t be able to remember half of the things they’d discussed. His head was too full of baby. Bailey pushed her food around on her plate, but he couldn’t help noticing she didn’t eat any more. He bit his tongue to stop himself from asking her how bad the morning sickness was and suggesting she try some ginger tea.

As he swallowed the last bite of his sandwich, a woman with a pram approached their table. It took a second for Quinn to recognize her, as he was so focused on the baby. He guessed it was about six months old and it had thick, dark curls framing its cute, dimpled face.