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Beginning with Their Baby
Tracy Wolff
Camille Arraby has a simple M.O. Have a great time, leave before the messy part. So when she meets Matt Jenkins, she intends to enjoy every moment…while this fling lasts. Sure, the connection is intense and exciting. And yes, Matt is probably the one guy who could convince her to stay. But she's not ready to do that yet.Weeks after she's moved on, however, she discovers an irresistible reason to return to Matt: she's pregnant. Suddenly, no longer is he the guy she had a wonderful, but temporary, time with–he's her baby's daddy. And that means they've got a future to work out…immediately!
Matt yanked open the door
Then froze as he came face-to-face with the woman who had haunted his dreams for three long months.
Camille stepped a little closer, leaned against the doorway, and her signature scent—lavender and brown sugar and sweet, ripe strawberries—wrapped itself around him. Still, he didn’t say anything. Didn’t touch her, though every instinct he had demanded that he grab onto her before she pulled another vanishing act.
“It’s good seeing you, Camille. You look great. But I’m a little busy. So if you wouldn’t mind—”
“I do mind.”
“Excuse me?”
“I should be in Florence right now, combing museums with a glorious man named Stefano and eating pasta on the patio of a little trattoria.”
“So, why aren’t you?”
“Because I’m three months pregnant.”
And just like that, his world imploded.
Dear Reader,
I’ve always been a sucker for stories where opposites attract because I believe the differences keep the sparks alive and the sparks are what make everyday living an adventure.
In Beginning with Their Baby, I bring back Matt Jenkins, the best friend and business partner of Reece, my hero in From Friend to Father. Matt is a stand-up guy. He plays by the rules and does the right thing. Camille Arraby is his polar opposite in every way—she’s capricious, refuses to settle down and flits from one temporary job to another as she travels the world. She’s so commitment-phobic that the idea of signing a six-month lease on an apartment makes her hyperventilate. Yet from the second I put these two in a room together, sparks flew!
Writing their story reminded me of my own marriage. My husband is an electrical engineer and I’m a writer. He’s an introvert and I’m an extrovert. He’s all about making a plan and I love to fly by the seat of my pants—and these are just the superficial differences. There are many more that go so deep that when we got married, no one thought it would last. Yet here we are three kids and fourteen years later, still going strong—and still striking sparks off each other.
I hope you enjoy reading Beginning with Their Baby as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please, visit me at www.tracywolff.com or on my blog, tracywolff.blogspot.com and let me know what you think.
Happy reading!
Tracy Wolff
Beginning with Their Baby
Tracy Wolff
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Tracy Wolff collects books, English degrees and lipsticks, and has been known to forget where—and sometimes who—she is when immersed in a great novel. At six she wrote her first short story—something with a rainbow and a prince—and at seven she forayed into the wonderful world of girls’ lit with her first Judy Blume novel. By ten she’d read everything in the young adult and classics sections of her local bookstore, so in desperation her mom started her on romance novels. And from the first page of the first book, she knew she’d found her lifelong love. Now a writing professor at her local community college, Tracy is thrilled to be writing novels for Harlequin Superromance. She lives in Austin, Texas, with her husband and three young sons.
For the Pitts, the best group of women I know.
Acknowledgments
Thank you to Wanda Ottewell, my wonderful and intrepid editor, for always knowing what my books need—even when I don’t.
And to my fabulous agent, Emily Sylvan Kim, who sticks by me no matter what.
You’re the best!
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
PROLOGUE
“DO YOU HAVE TO GO?”
A twinge of uneasiness worked its way down Camille Arraby’s spine at the words, though she continued to load her overnight bag. “My flight leaves in two hours—I’ve got to get to the airport.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” Matt Jenkins climbed off the rumpled bed where they’d just spent another incredible night, and walked toward her.
She watched him prowl across the room, his long, lean, nearly naked form a truly beautiful sight this early in the morning. His dark auburn hair had fallen over his eyes and his too-full lips were curved in the sexy grin she loved.
The twinge got a little more pronounced and for the first time that she could remember, Camille regretted the fact that she had to go. She wasn’t nearly as ready to leave Austin—and Matt—as she’d expected to be.
But Brazil—and Carnaval—were in full swing and they wouldn’t wait forever. Besides, it was better to walk away now, on a high note, than wait for things to sour as they inevitably would.
“So what did you mean?” she asked lightly, as he circled her waist with his hands and pulled her close.
“I was asking you to stay.” He nuzzled her neck and she sighed, letting her head fall back as desire moved through her all over again.
“I can’t.”
His mouth moved lower, to the hollow of her throat, and she actually felt her knees tremble. “You can.”
“Matt. You knew all along I was leaving today.”
“I know.”
“So what’s the problem?” Her voice hitched as he flicked open the first two buttons of her shirt, ran his tongue over the curve of her breast.
“The problem is that when we made the deal, I didn’t expect that I’d want you to stay.”
“And now you do?”
He lifted his head so that his warm brown eyes met hers and Camille shuddered with unfulfilled desire. She’d never met a man like Matt, who could make her respond so effortlessly—and powerfully—to his lightest touch.
“Now I do.” He stroked the back of his hand down her cheek. “Stay, Camille. Please. I’ve never felt like this before and I want to see where it goes.”
“I’ve already given up my room and my job, already have my flights booked to Rio and then on to Italy.”
“You can stay with me for a while—and getting another one of those temp jobs of yours can’t be that difficult. You’ve been through three in the two months I’ve known you.”
For one long second, Camille let his words sweep over her. Let herself imagine staying here with Matt indefinitely—spending hours and days and weeks together, in bed and out.
Doing all those wonderful things couples did when they were falling in love.
The images that flashed through her mind didn’t send her running for the hills as they normally would have, and that—more than anything else could—had her taking a cautious step back.
Pulling free of Matt’s embrace, she turned back to her bag. Rearranged the items in it, once, twice. Made sure her favorite brushes and palette were safe from shifting during travel as she struggled for the right words to say. But nothing came and silent minutes dragged by as Matt waited patiently for her answer, not pushing her but not backing down, either.
As she slid her makeup case to the bottom of the bag, Camille wanted nothing more than to run—as fast and as far as she could.
Wanted nothing more than to fling herself into Matt’s arms and stay until this thing between them burned itself out.
But doing that was only asking for trouble, only asking for entanglements. Already Matt had sneaked through a crack in her defenses and taken up residence in an untouched spot in her heart. If she stayed, his presence inside her would grow until she was no longer complete without him. And that was something she would never, could never, allow.
When she finally looked up at him again, Camille made sure none of her doubts—none of her longing—showed on her face. “I can’t stay, Matt. I was perfectly clear about the fact that I was leaving when we hooked up.”
“I know. But plans can change.”
“Not mine.”
“Bull.” This time when he grabbed her, his hands weren’t quite as gentle as they had been. Somehow, the edginess was just as arousing as the care. “Your plans change all the time. They change with the wind, with your whims. Why can’t you change them now? For me?”
“My plane tickets are nonrefundable.” Her answer was flippant, but her heart was pounding hard and fast.
He cursed. “I’ll pay for the stupid tickets. I’ll pay for a hundred tickets if you’ll stay for just a little while longer.” His hands slid up her arms and neck until he was cupping her face. “Please, Camille.”
“Matt.” She shook her head, fought against the lump in her stomach that was growing with every word he said.
“Damn it, do you think this is easy for me? I’m not used to having to beg a woman to spend time with me.”
Of course he wasn’t used to begging—he was gorgeous and smart, and if not rich, certainly well-off from his partnership in one of the city’s leading architectural firms. He was a prime catch—just one more reason she was determined to throw him back before he could do the same to her.
Before she broke her own rules and forgot why she couldn’t settle down.
Before she was the one pleading with him to stay.
“I don’t want this.” The words came out sharp, stilted.
“So what do you want?”
“To see Carnaval. To dance in the plaza and run through the streets with the parades. To visit the art museums and hang glide through the hills. I want to stand on the beach at dawn and watch the tide roll in.”
“Okay. All right.” He closed his eyes, ran a hand over his face. “Give me a couple days, let me rearrange my schedule and I’ll go with you. You’ll still see plenty of Carnaval.”
The twinge turned into a full-blown panic attack as she slung her bag over her shoulder. “Come on, Matt. It’s been fun, but we both know it’s time to move on—before things get messy and predictable.”
“They don’t have to—”
“Sure they do, sweets.” With a sassy grin, Camille reached up and patted her soon-to-be ex-lover’s cheek. “That’s the way of relationships. Short and fun turns long and nasty, until both people wish they’d gotten out when the getting was good.”
He clenched his jaw. “Do you really believe that?”
“I do. And so do you—at least you did two months ago, when we first met.”
“That was different.”
“Baby, it’s always different.” She started to say more, but a car horn sounded from the street in front of his house. “I’ve got to go. My cab’s here.”
“I thought I was taking you to the airport.”
“It’s still early—go back to bed.” Standing on tiptoes, she brushed her lips against his once, twice. Then gasped as his mouth turned frenzied on hers.
He kissed her like no one ever had—hard and hot and with a desperation that nearly overwhelmed her.
