Suddenly Expecting

He glanced up at the dark sky and narrowed his eyes at the barely discernible wind that had picked up.

“I’m tired.”

He stared at her, irritated. “Phone calls. Avoiding.”

She blinked slowly. “You’re not going to give up until I agree, are you?”

“Non.”

She sighed. “Fine. But be quick about it.”

He eased off her car, moving into her personal space, and instinctively Kat took a step back, which only prompted him to frown. “You’re not going to stand me up, are you?”

“No, I am not. Girl Guide’s honor.”

“Good.” With a firm nod, he walked past her, got in his car and drove off.

She watched his taillights blink as he turned left out of the parking lot before she had time to fully comprehend what her acquiescence really meant.

We need to talk. Those four little words lay heavy with meaning, conjuring up a multitude of awkward scenarios from her disastrous past. Ten weeks ago, they’d not only crossed that line between friends and lovers, they’d burned it to the ground, and part of her wanted to run home and hide under the bedcovers. The other part wanted this awkward situation over and done with.

With a sigh she got in her car, fired up the engine and drove out of the car park. She couldn’t run from him forever. It was time to suck it up and face whatever consequences that one night had wrought.

* * *

The marina was alive with activity, crowded with people securing their boats and belongings in preparation for the oncoming storm. Kat parked and headed down the wooden platform, eyeing the foreboding water as the dark waves lapped against the jetty. In a few hours’ time, a category-four cyclone would sweep across the coast, and everyone knew all too well the devastation it would bring. The city had only just managed to recover after Cyclone Yasi had slammed into North Queensland some years before.

Marco’s boat was moored at the end, a sleek, shiny thing he’d gone into great loving detail about when he’d first bought it. The only thing she remembered from that conversation was not the horsepower, the dimensions or the fuel consumption, but rather his little-kid excitement. It had made her heart flip then, as it did now when she recalled the three-year-old memories.

He stood on the deck and offered his hand as she stepped across the gangplank. Without thinking she took it.

It was weird—she’d held his hand a thousand times before, and yet right now this one simple gesture was making her jittery, as though her whole body had been put on alert and was awaiting the next eager move.

Which was stupid. Ridiculous. And highly inconvenient.

Dammit, that was what came with sleeping with your bestie. Because now she couldn’t stop the memories of those same hands roaming all over her body and doing things that had gotten her all hot and panting.

As they walked aft, she managed to surreptitiously slip her hand from his, avoiding his sideways glance by determinedly staring straight ahead.

God, she hated this awkwardness. They’d gone and done the unthinkable and ruined everything, and for a second, she felt that indescribable pain slice into her heart, leaving a deep and wounding scar in its wake. Things would never be the same again. It was like one of her disastrous relationships all over again, like everything her father had blurted out that one awful time in the heat of argument.

For God’s sake, Kat, can you just for once not be front-page news? Stop with all the attention and drama and just be a normal person?

The shame burned briefly as she recalled his expression, a bitter twist of anger and disappointment. Then her thoughts were interrupted by the familiar hum and throb of engines as they entered the cabin.

She stopped in her tracks. “Are you casting off?”

“Oui. We’re going to the island.”

She gaped. Annoyance quickly morphed into fury. “Are you out of your mind? No!” She strode outside but it was too late. Furious, she whirled, pinning him with dagger eyes. “I didn’t agree to this! And there’s a cyclone on its way, in case you haven’t noticed.” She threw an arm wide, indicating the dock rapidly disappearing. “The town’s in lockdown. And my car is at the marina.”

He crossed his arms and leaned back onto the rail, then absently pushed back a curl as the wind whipped his hair around his face. “First, my house on the island is designed to withstand weather extremes, cyclones included. It’s probably safer than most places on the mainland. Second, I’ll call someone to pick up your car. And third, the reports say the island will only catch the edge of it—the eye will hit Cairns after 3:00 a.m.”

“And by that time, we won’t be able to return for God knows how long. No. Go back, Marco.”

“No.”

She growled. “I hate it when you get pushy.”

His mouth quirked briefly but he said nothing. She continued to glare, putting all her anger into it, but he merely held her gaze calmly.

“You’ve been avoiding my calls,” he finally said.

With a frustrated growl she whirled, planting her hands wide apart on the railing. “Dammit, you can be sooooo annoying!”

“Says the woman who still hasn’t told me she’s pregnant.”

A moment passed, a moment in which Kat’s heart sped up, then slowed down again as she closed her eyes and dropped her gaze to the churning black water below. A moment in which those meager rehearsed words all crumbled to ashes in her mouth, and she was left with nothing but the sound of slapping water and rushing air.

“I’m going to kill Connor.”

Marco raised one dark eyebrow. “Don’t blame him. He thought I should know.”

Finally she straightened, crossed her arms and faced him. “Turn the boat around. It’s not safe to be out.”

“I checked with the coast guard. We’re fine for at least another hour, enough time to get to the island.” He shook his head. “And we have things to discuss.”

“There’s nothing to discuss.”

A dark scowl bloomed. “You’re kidding, right? You’re pregnant, Kat. It’s not just about you. It’s about me, too.”

She knew that. But the bubbling frustration inside forced the words from her mouth. “My body, my decision.”

He stilled, his expression a mix of shock and seriousness. “Are you saying you want an abortion?”

She blinked, shaking her head as her stomach pitched in time with the waves. “Marco, you know what I went through with my mother. She was dead within two years of diagnosis. I could be a carrier.”

He dragged a hand through his hair. “So get tested. I’ve been telling you that for years.”

“I did. Plus, I do not have one single mothering bone in my body. Babies hate me and—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Back up.” He frowned and held up a hand. “You actually went and got tested?”

“Yes. Last week.”

“After all these years of ‘I don’t want to know’ and ‘I don’t want that hanging over my head, directing my choices in life’? All the times we argued when I tried to convince you otherwise?”

She nodded.

She’d shocked him, if his gaping expression was any indicator. “When were you going to tell me?” he finally bit out.

“I just did!” she snapped back, inwardly wincing at his thinly concealed hurt. “And speaking of not telling, what about you and Grace?”

“What about me and Grace?”

“So there is a you and Grace!”

He scowled, confused. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You and her, having a baby together?”

From the look on his face, she’d stunned him. “Since when?”

“She told me you were back together.”

He sighed, hands going to his hips. “Well, it’s news to me. We’ve been over since before the Coup de France.”

“How long before?”

“Way before our night together, chérie,” he said softly.

She swallowed, refusing to allow herself a moment of remembrance. “So, you’re saying Grace is lying?”

He shrugged. “Wishful thinking?”

She snapped her mouth shut, taking a deep, steady breath before mumbling, “This is a bloody disaster.”

Was it her imagination, or did she see his mouth tighten? Then he sighed and dragged a hand through his hair and the moment was gone. “Kat, I can’t stop you from making the final decision about what you do. If it were me, I’d be having the baby, regardless of those test results. But it’s ultimately your choice.”

“Then it’s a good thing you’re not me,” she said quietly. “You weren’t there. You didn’t see what the disease did to my mother, every single day, for two years. I refuse to let that happen to my child.”

His soft murmur sounded more like a groan. “Kat...”

The boat went over another wave, and suddenly the day’s lunch didn’t seem so secure in her stomach. She swallowed thickly then took a deep breath before meeting his eyes.

“I’ll be here as much as you need me to be,” he said, his gaze soft. “You’re my best friend, chérie, and that’s what friends do.”

Friends. Her insides did another crazy swoop, just before the nausea surged again. This was no confession of love, no happily-ever-after, no I-can’t-live-without-you. This was Marco offering his friendship and support, just as he’d always done throughout the tragedies of her embarrassingly public private life.

She swallowed a weird swell of abject disappointment. “Marco.” She shook her head. “I don’t know.... I haven’t made any decision. Plus...” She took a breath. “I can’t—I won’t—have a baby just because you want it. And once this gets out—whatever my decision—there’s going to be a media frenzy. Your career is more important than front-page gossip.”

“Kat—”

“You know what the headlines were like last time. Do you honestly think I’d do that to you? I... Oh, God.” She clutched her stomach.

He grabbed her arm, his face creased with alarm. “What’s wrong? What—”

She turned to the railing but wasn’t quick enough. In the next second, she threw up all over the deck, right on top of Marco’s expensive Italian leather shoes.

Two

“Guess I should’ve seen that coming,” Marco said drily as she rushed to the railing and continued to throw up over the side.

When he placed a gentle hand on her back, she shrugged it off with a groan. “Oh, God, don’t.”

His gaze darted from her to briefly stare up into the dark storm clouds. It was about to rain and rain hard, and if his captain, Larry, hurried, the crew could make it safely back to the mainland before it all came down. What he needed to discuss with Kat was between them alone; he certainly didn’t need anyone else encroaching on their privacy.

He returned to Kat’s doubled-up figure and shifted uncomfortably on the deck. He should’ve thought about seasickness. She wasn’t a great sailor at the best of times, and with the added pregnancy, he wasn’t surprised she’d thrown up.

“Can I get you anything?” he said now, frowning as her thick breath rattled in her throat. It tore little pieces from him, listening to her force down the nausea, willing herself not to throw up. She hated being sick, and he’d held her hair back on more than one occasion, watching helplessly as she went through the motions while he’d soothingly rubbed her back and made the appropriate sympathetic noises.

She stayed like that, bent over the railing, unfazed by the wind and ocean spray on her face until they finally docked at Sunset Island’s small jetty twenty minutes later. As the boat edged slowly into position, Kat pulled herself upright, swiping at her mouth and swallowing thickly with a grimace.

“Bathroom,” she muttered, and he silently watched her head into the cabin.

Five minutes later, as he was going over his choices in a long lineup of conversation starters, she emerged, her face pale and grim, a swipe of lip gloss on her mouth.

When she walked out onto the deck, that weird, tumultuous, out-of-control feeling had receded, only to be replaced with trepidation. This crazy situation was totally out of his hands, and that thought freaked the hell out of him. Yet she...she looked so cool and blank as she strode toward him that he felt the sudden urge to kiss her, to dislodge that perfect composure and make her as frustrated and confused as he felt.

Stupid idea. Because Kat had made it clear she wanted to forget what they’d done all those weeks ago. And if he looked at this logically, that was the sensible thing to do. They were best friends. Throughout all their sucky personal relationships, her mother’s death, his one marriage and divorce, her two, plus the crazy media attention they always seemed to attract, their friendship endured. Sure, the papers always hinted at something more, but they’d both laughed and shrugged it off a long time ago.

Yet now, as his insides pitched with uncharacteristic uncertainty, she looked almost...calm. As if she’d already made a decision and was confident in making it.

She was so damn strong. Sometimes too strong. Just one of the things that both attracted and annoyed him.

“I don’t know what more we have to discuss,” she said now, watching his crew prepare to dock. “This is a waste of time. Plus, with the approaching cyclone, we need to let people know where we are.”

“I called the authorities before we left, plus your father, my mother and Connor,” he said calmly.

“Wow. You really planned ahead for this, didn’t you?”

He ignored her sarcasm. “All bases are covered. We’re perfectly safe.”

Her face creased with such serious doubt that he had to smother a laugh.

Safe? No way, not when her expression became suddenly tight and he knew exactly where her thoughts were going. If they were anything like his, it was back to That Night, replaying every intimate second over and over, despite his determination to shove it to the back of his mind. She didn’t want to be stuck anywhere with him, least of all in such an intimate personal space.

Her breath snapped in, eyes darkening just before she glanced away, and his groin tightened. It was incredibly arousing, knowing she was obviously remembering their crazy-hot lovemaking. Lovemaking that had, instead of quenching the hunger, only succeeded in stoking his desire for more.

His low groan was lost in the noisy preparations for docking, yet when he gently took her arm, she shot him a dark scowl and dug her heels in.

His eyebrows ratcheted up. “You’re going to stay on the boat in protest?”

“I should.”

“Well, that’s a dumb idea. A storm’s coming, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“You’re the one who dragged me out here.”

He sighed. “Look, chérie, come to the house. If you want to yell at me, at least we’ll be safe.”

She paused, seeming to go through her limited options, until her chin went up and she shot him a glare. “Fine. But as soon as the storm’s passed, you’re taking me home.”

He almost smiled. Almost. “Okay.”

She gave him a final look then swept past him, down the gangplank and onto the rickety jetty, her heels echoing dully as he commanded his crew to take the spare vessel and return to the mainland.

* * *

They took a golf buggy to the house, efficiently moving along the road that edged the west side of Sunset Island. Just like all the times before, when the place came into sight, Kat held her breath and marveled at the architecture of the magnificent six-bedroom house. It was all glass and timber walls set in a lush tropical rain forest, with natural lines, arches and a sloping roof set on sturdy stilts, perfectly sheltered among the vegetation to avoid the fiercest storms yet taking spectacular advantage of the amazing Pacific Ocean sunsets.

This was Marco’s haven, a place he could relax and be himself with his friends. The guy she knew so very well. The guy who was now intimate with her body, who had made her moan and climax.

As Kat ran her eyes over the house’s familiar lines and tried not to think about that, the buggy wound its way along the driveway, until finally they stopped at the front door and Marco got out. Again, he offered his hand and she was forced to take it, although she quickly released him as soon as she stepped out.

“We need to secure the shutters before the storm hits,” he said, eyeing the sky.

Kat nodded and followed him to the long path edged with a sturdy safety railing that ran all the way around the house. As the wind slowly picked up and the trees began to sway, they both worked in silence, cranking down the storm shutters covering the multitude of windows. With the last one firmly in place, they returned to the front.

“The birds and the bats flew off a few hours ago,” Marco commented, frowning into the dark sky. “They know something’s wrong.”

A chill ran over her skin. “The Bureau of Meteorology said the main eye is bound for Cairns.”

“Yeah, they’re bracing for the worst—mobile phone towers down, power outages. The ports will be closed, too. So, not the best place to be right now. Let’s get inside.”

“I’ve got nothing to wear,” she said suddenly as she stepped in the door.

“You’ve still got some stuff from last time. And you can borrow from me if you need to.”

Walking around in Marco’s clothes, smelling his scent, knowing the exact same garments had been right up next to his skin? Just. No.

Kat said nothing as she walked into the familiar coolness of the slate foyer, down the hall to the back of the house, past the amazing indoor pool with wet bar to her right, the elegant water feature bubbling away to her left.

Finally she reached the heart of the house—the huge combined kitchen and entertainment area with comfy sofas, a wide-screen plasma TV, dining table to the side, curved walls with floor-to-ceiling windows and a fully equipped kitchen. She and his guests always spent their time here, eating and talking current affairs, the state of the world, his second home in Marseille and the ever-present topic, European football.

She went straight to the fridge, grabbed a ginger beer and then walked to the barricaded windows that normally displayed an uninterrupted one-eighty view of the Pacific Ocean.

During the day the simple beauty of searing blue sky stretched forever until it eventually dipped to kiss the dark ocean in the far distance. At night, the absolute blackness enveloped everything, the only respite the tiny mainland lights on the horizon. Except this time she was more than acutely aware of the brewing storm playing out behind the shutters, matching her churning thoughts as she heard Marco’s firm footfalls on the polished marble behind her. The vague scent of his aftershave brought back the uncomfortable memories from that one night, ten weeks ago.

“So we should be clear of the storm here,” she began, her back still to him, the cold ginger-beer bottle cradled against her warm neckline.

“Yes.” He reached for the patio door handle and swung it wide, walking out onto the lit deck. “But we’ve still got a warning and need to take all precautions.”

“Your cellar,” she said as he began to collect the deck chairs.

He nodded then grinned. “And you guys teased me for converting it.”

She pulled a chair inside the back door. “Well, to be fair, the worst you’d ever seen was a tropical rainstorm, not a cyclone.”

“Always a first time for everything.”

Those words took on a whole new meaning tonight. She watched him carry the patio chairs inside, waiting for him to break the silence as she picked at the label on her ginger-beer bottle.

He finally closed and locked the door, and after a few minutes of him shoving the chairs into a corner and saying nothing, she was about ready to break.

“Marco—”

“Kat—”

They both turned and spoke at the same time, but it was Kat who paused for him to continue. When he sighed and ran a hand through his hair, she wanted to groan out loud. She knew exactly what that hair felt like in her fingers, how soft it was, how it curled and waved with a life of its own, and how with one gentle tug at the nape she could direct his mouth to a better place on her neck....

Oh, God, I have to stop thinking about that!

When she glanced up, he was looking at her with those dark eyes, assessing her every word, movement and expression until she felt vaguely underdressed. Ridiculous, because the last thing on his mind right now was getting her naked and into bed.

What a vision that conjured up. No. No! Stop it!

Then he abruptly turned and the moment shattered.

“You need food,” he said, striding over to the kitchen and opening the fridge door. “And we need to prepare for tonight.”

Her stomach took that moment to remind her of her long-gone lunch, and with a sigh she followed him over, her mind on the immediate problem of her empty belly. “What do you have?”

He waved his hand inside the fridge. “You choose. I’m going to tape up the windows.”

* * *

Kat prepared bread rolls, cheese, cold meats and potato salad while Marco placed thick tape across all the windows. After they ate, they sat on the sofa and had coffee, the muted TV spurting out nonstop cyclone updates.

It was a familiar scenario—the coffee, the silent television, their seating positions: she at one corner, sprawled across two spots and hugging a pillow, he in the opposite corner with ankles and arms crossed. Yet the unspoken tension in the air was smoke-thick and just as hard to ignore.

This time it was Kat who broke the silence. “You know, Grace was arranging a surprise dinner for your return.”

His eyebrow went up. “Was she?”

“Yeah.”

“Right.” The slight grimace in his expression spoke volumes.

“What’s that look for?”

“What look?”

“Don’t give me that. You know the one.”

He sighed. “I don’t know why she keeps bothering. We broke up months ago.”

“I see,” Kat said slowly, pressing her lips together. Marco would never lie to her—so was it all wishful thinking on Grace’s part? She frowned. Yeah, Grace liked to talk up all her relationships—that TV exec three months ago, the Russian writer, the ex-soapie star.

Then Marco abruptly turned on the couch, giving her his full attention, and she forgot all about Grace’s love life.

“Kat, this is me here. We talk about pretty much everything—”

“Not everything.”

He gave her a look. “Just stop avoiding the issue and talk to me now. Let’s think this baby situation over logically.”

She shook her head. “Were you not listening about the tests?”

“I didn’t ask that. I asked if you wanted to have this baby.”

“I am not turning this discussion into a pro-choice debate.”

He scowled. “I’m not trying to. All I’m asking is for you to consider all your options.”

Her insides ached. “That’s all I’ve been doing since I found out. Marco, please don’t do this. I can’t get attached, knowing there’s a possibility it will be carrying a fatal disease. Plus, I know women are supposed to have these ticking body clocks, supposed to be filled with a great burning need to be mothers, but I am telling you, I’m not one of them.”

And yet...there’d been a few moments where she’d allowed her imagination to drift, where her thoughts had been occupied by something other than work, her swish Cairns apartment and all those solitary nights stretching before her. She’d imagined an unfamiliar future consisting of a house, a garden, a husband and babies. A scary, scary thought that had her breath catching and her heart racing every time she let her mind wander there.

No.

She sighed. “I...I don’t know what to say. I really don’t.”

“Well, that’s a start. At least it means you’re not wedded to the idea of an abortion.”

“I’m not making any decision until the tests come back. I’m not going to...” She swallowed and glanced away. “Not going to get attached to the idea if they come back positive. And anyway, what on earth am I going to do with a baby? This is me we’re talking about here.”

His scowl deepened. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re a great person. You’re funny and gorgeous and smart, and you have people in your life who love you.”