Surprise Baby, Second Chance

Reunited for one night...

Bound forever by the consequence!

Determined never to become a burden on the person she loves most, Rosa walked away from her husband, Aaron. Now she’s back on his island home for a family party, and they end up stranded together during a storm! Forced to confront the past and their infinite attraction, a kiss leads to one more night... And when she discovers she’s pregnant, Rosa knows it’s time to fight for their future.

Being an author has always been THERESE BEHARRIE’s dream. But it was only when the corporate world loomed during her final year at university that she realised how soon she wanted that dream to become a reality. So she got serious about her writing, and now writes books she wants to see in the world, featuring people who look like her, for a living. When she’s not writing she’s spending time with her husband and dogs in Cape Town, South Africa. She admits that this is a perfect life, and is grateful for it.

Also by Therese Beharrie

The Tycoon’s Reluctant Cinderella

A Marriage Worth Saving

The Millionaire’s Redemption

Tempted by the Billionaire Next Door

Conveniently Wed, Royally Bound miniseries

United by Their Royal Baby

Falling for His Convenient Queen

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Surprise Baby, Second Chance

Therese Beharrie

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-07798-9

SURPRISE BABY, SECOND CHANCE

© 2018 Therese Beharrie

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

Grant.

Thank you for keeping me steady through my anxieties.

My ROSA Typewriter Club.

I’m so lucky to have found you both.

Thank you for believing in me.

Always remember how much I believe in you.

And Megan.

Thank you for your patience with me.

You’ve taught me so much. I can’t wait for the rest of our books together—sorry, I couldn’t resist!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

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

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Extract

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

ROSA SPENCER HAD two options.

One: she could get back into the taxi that had brought her to the house she was currently standing in front of.

Two: she could walk into that house and face the man she’d left four months ago without any explanation.

Her husband.

When the purr of the car grew distant behind her she took a deep breath. Her chance of escape now gone, she straightened her shoulders and walked down the pathway that led to the front door of the Spencers’ holiday home.

It could have been worse, she considered. She could have bumped into Aaron somewhere in Cape Town, where she’d been staying since she’d left him. And since they’d lived together over a thousand kilometres away in Johannesburg, Rosa would have been unprepared to see him.

Since she worked from home most days, she would have probably been wearing the not-quite-pyjamas-but-might-as-well-be outfit she usually wore when she ventured out of the house during the week. Her hair would have been a mess, curls spiralling everywhere—or piled on top of her head—and her face would have been clear of make-up.

Exposed, she thought. Vulnerable.

At least now she was prepared to see him.

Her gold dress revealed generous cleavage and cinched at her waist with a thin belt. Its skirt was long, loose, though it had a slit up to mid-thigh—stopping just before her shapewear began—to reveal a leg that was strong and toned: one of her best assets.

Her dress made her feel confident—after all, what was the point of being a designer if she couldn’t make clothes that did?—as did the mass of curls around her face, and the make-up she’d had done before she’d got onto the private plane her mother-in-law had sent for her.

She hadn’t seen Liana Spencer in the four months since she’d left Aaron either. And perhaps that was part of the reason Rosa had agreed to attend a birthday party that would put her face to face with the man she’d walked away from.

The other reason was because of her own mother. And the birthday parties Violet Lang would never get to celebrate.

Rosa took another breath, clinging to the confidence she’d fought for with her dress. It was a pivotal part of the armour she’d created when she’d realised she’d be seeing Aaron again.

She needed the armour to cloak the shivering in the base of her stomach. The erratic beating of her heart. The combination of the two was so familiar that she didn’t think she’d ever truly lived without it. Though that hadn’t stopped her from running from it all her life.

The door of the house was open when she got there and Rosa slipped inside, thinking that it would be easier than to announce her arrival by ringing the bell. There was nothing to indicate a celebration on the first floor—just the usual tasteful but obviously expensive furniture and décor—though that wasn’t surprising. Liana usually went for lavish, which meant the top floor. The one where the walls were made entirely of glass.

It offered guests an exceptional view of the sea that surrounded Mariner’s Island just off the coast of Cape Town. Of the waves that crashed against the rocks that were scattered at the beach just a few metres from the Spencer house. And of the small town and airport that stood only a short distance away from the house too.

Rosa held her breath as she got to the top of the stairs, and then pushed open the door before she lost her nerve.

And immediately told herself that she should have escaped when she had the chance.

There was no party on this floor. Instead, it looked like it usually did when there were no events planned. There was a living area and a bed on one side of the room—the bathroom being the only section of the floor with privacy—and a dining area and kitchen on the other side.

There was an open space between the two sides as if whoever had designed the room had decided to give the Spencers an area to be free in.

But in that open space stood her husband. Only her husband.

And the last thing Rosa thought of was freedom.

His back was to her, and she thought that she still had the chance to escape. He didn’t know that she was there. If she left he wouldn’t ever have to know. What harm would it do?

Except that when she turned back to the door it was closed. And when she looked over her shoulder to see if he’d noticed her she saw that Aaron was now facing her, an unreadable expression on his face.

‘Running?’

‘N-no.’ Be confident.

His mouth lifted into a half-smile. ‘No?’ he asked in a faintly mocking tone.

Her face went hot. The shivering intensified. Her heart rate rocketed. But, despite that, she was able to offer him a firm, ‘No’.

‘Okay,’ he replied in a voice that told her he didn’t believe her. And why would he? Hadn’t she run from him before? Without the decency to explain why? Hadn’t the anxiety of that decision kept her up night after night?

Guilt shimmered through her.

She ignored it.

But ignoring it meant that her brain had to focus on something else. And—as it usually did—it chose his face.

Her eyes feasted on what her memories hadn’t done justice to over the last four months. His dark hair, dark brows, the not-quite-chocolate colour of his skin. The mixture of his Indian and African heritage had created an arresting face, his features not unlike those Rosa had seen on movie stars.

But his face had more than just good looks. It spoke of the cool, calm demeanour that had always exasperated her even as it drew her in. He rarely let his emotions out of wherever he kept them, so they seldom claimed the planes of his face.

Except when he and Rosa were having a conversation about their feelings. Or when they were making love. There’d been nothing but emotion on his face then.

‘Where is everybody?’ she asked in a hoarse voice.

Aaron slid his hands into his pockets, making his biceps bulge slightly under the material of his suit jacket. Her breath taunted her as it slipped out of her lungs. As it reminded her that it wasn’t only Aaron’s face that she was attracted to.

It was his muscular body. It was how much taller than her he was. It was his broad shoulders, the strength of his legs, of everything in between.

He’d always been thrilled by the curves of her body. But his hands were large enough, strong enough, that she’d always thought he wouldn’t have wanted her as much if her curves hadn’t been as generous.

Aaron took a step towards her.

Which was no reason for her to move back.

But she did.

‘Well, if I’m right—and I probably am—everyone’s here who’s supposed to be.’

‘I don’t understand. It’s just you and...’ She trailed off, her heart thudding. ‘Did you—did you do this?’

‘Oh, no,’ Aaron replied, and took another step towards her. This time she managed to keep her feet in place. ‘Why would I want to see the wife who left me with no explanation?’

‘Great. Then I’ll go.’

She turned to the door again, ignoring her confusion. She’d figure it out when she was off the island that reminded her so much of her husband.

The island where he’d taken her months after her mother had died. Where he’d got down on one knee. Where he’d told her he couldn’t imagine life without her.

Where they’d spent time after their wedding. Lounging in the sun at the beach. Lazily enjoying each other’s bodies as only newlyweds could.

Where they’d taken holidays. When life had become too much for her and Aaron had surprised her with a trip away.

The island where he’d held her, comforted her, loved her on the bed that stood in the corner, its memories haunting her. Overwhelming her.

Yes, she’d figure it all out when she was away from the island. And far, far away from her husband.

A hand pressed against the door before she could open it. She swallowed and then turned back to face him.

Her heart sprinted now. Her body prickled. The scent of his masculine cologne filled her senses. Memories, sharp and intimate, could no longer be held back.

Again, she tried to ignore them. But it was becoming harder to do.

‘Why are you stopping me from leaving?’ she managed in a steady voice.

‘Did you think you were just going to walk in here, see me, and then...leave?’

‘I thought I was attending your mother’s sixtieth birthday party.’

‘Which I would have been at too.’

‘And we would have seen each other there, yes. But you’re the only one here. I’ve seen you. Now I want to leave.’

‘Just like that?’

‘Just like that.’

He inched closer. ‘You’re not the slightest bit curious about why you and I are alone here?’

‘Sure I am. But I’m also pretty sure I can figure it out on my way to the airport.’

‘The airport?’ His lips curved into a smile. ‘Honey, the airport’s closed.’

‘No,’ she said after a beat. ‘No, it can’t be. I just got off a plane. Your mother said it would be waiting for me when I was done here.’

His smile faded. ‘She lied. Your flight is likely to be the last one until Monday. The airport’s closed this weekend.’

Panic thickened in her throat. ‘All weekend?’

‘Don’t sound so surprised, Rosa,’ he said mildly. ‘You know Mariner’s Island doesn’t work the way the rest of the world does.’

‘Yes, but...but it was a private plane. Yours.’

‘It still needs somewhere to take off from. To land at. And since the airport’s closed we won’t have that until Monday.’

She ducked under his arm, put distance between them. But it didn’t make breathing any easier. ‘So...what? Your mother just decided to leave her guests stranded here until Monday?’

‘Not guests,’ he corrected. ‘Just you and me.’

‘Did you know about this?’

‘No.’

‘Then how did you not suspect something was off when the main route off the island would only be viable again on Monday?’

‘She told me that the party would be going on for most of the weekend.’

‘And you believed her?’

‘Yes,’ he said coldly. ‘It’s not unusual for one of my mother’s parties to continue for an entire weekend. You know that.’

‘Okay,’ she said, and lifted the curls off her forehead with a shaky hand. ‘Okay, fine.’ Her hand dropped. ‘Then I’ll take a boat home.’

‘It’s too late to get one tonight.’

‘I know,’ she said through clenched teeth. ‘I’ll take one tomorrow morning.’

‘There’s a storm warning for tomorrow. Starting tonight, actually.’

She looked beyond the glass walls, saw the dark clouds rolling in. Her stomach tumbled. ‘That’s fine.’

‘It’ll be a rough storm, Rosa. It’s anticipated to last until tomorrow evening at least. Do you still want to take a boat?’

‘Yes.’

He laughed softly. ‘You’re so determined to get away from me you’ll take an almost two-hour boat ride in a storm? Even though you get sick when the water is calm?’

She hesitated. ‘I’ll be fine.’

His half-smile mocked her. ‘I’m sure you will be.’

He was right, she thought, and hated herself for admitting it. Hated him for being right.

Except that what she felt in that moment was anything but hate.

Confusion, yes. How had this happened? Had Liana really orchestrated this on purpose?

Guilt, of course. She’d walked away from him. From their relationship. She hadn’t even said goodbye.

Anger, absolutely. She hated feeling trapped. It reminded her of her childhood. Of being caught in her mother’s world.

But hate? No, she thought, her eyes settling on Aaron again. There was no hate.

‘Why are you so calm?’

‘I’m not,’ he replied in a tone that gave no indication that he wasn’t. ‘But I know my mother. And I know this scheme is probably well-thought-out. Much like the first time we met. Or don’t you remember?’ His voice was soft, urgent. ‘Have you run away from the memories too, Rosa?’

She didn’t reply. There was no reply she could give. She couldn’t tell him that she hadn’t been running away from him, not really, but saving him. From the anxiety, the stress, the worry of being with someone who was terrified of losing the health of their mind, their body.

Rosa had spent her life looking after someone like that. She knew the anxiety, the stress, the worry of it. She knew the guilt when the fear became a reality.

She’d saved him, she thought again. She’d saved him from going through what she’d gone through with her mother’s hypochondria. She’d saved him from having to take care of another person. From having it break him.

The moment she’d felt that lump in her breast, she’d known she couldn’t put him through all of that. So she’d walked away. Had tried to move on.

But the memories wouldn’t let her. No, the memories were always, always there.

* * *

‘Great,’ Rosa said loudly. ‘No one’s here.’

But that didn’t make sense. Her mother had told her there was a Christmas ball for cancer patients that night. Had asked Rosa to be her partner at the ball.

Of course, Rosa had agreed. Her father wasn’t in Cape Town, though she doubted he would have agreed to accompany her mother even if he had been. Irritation bristled over her, but she forced her attention to the matter at hand. She’d spent enough of her time being annoyed at her father.

The room was decorated as if there was supposed to be a ball. A large crystal chandelier hung in the middle of the ceiling, white draping flowing from it to different spots on the walls. It lit the space with soft light, brightened only by the small Christmas trees in each corner of the room that had been adorned with twinkling lights.

There was only one table at the end of the room, standing next to the largest Christmas tree Rosa had ever seen, with champagne, canapés and desserts spread across it.

‘Am I early?’ Rosa wondered out loud again.

But, like the first time, she got no response. Throwing her hands up, she turned to try and find someone who could explain what was happening. As she took a step towards the door, it opened and her breathing did something strange when a man joined her in the room.

‘Who are you?’ she blurted out.

He lifted an eyebrow. ‘Aaron Spencer. Who are you?’

‘Rosa Lang.’ She swallowed. How had the air around her suddenly become so charged? ‘I’m, um, here for the Christmas ball...’

‘Me too.’ His eyes lazily scanned the room. ‘Either we’re really early or—’

‘Or our mothers have decided to play a game on us,’ Rosa said, his name suddenly registering with her.

He was Liana Spencer’s son. Rosa had only met the woman a few times during her mother’s group chemotherapy sessions but she’d been charmed. Not only by the woman’s energy—which she envied greatly—but because she’d done an amazing job at keeping Rosa’s mother’s energy up, despite the fact that she was going through chemo too.

Liana had been vocal about wanting Rosa to meet her son, and Violet had tried to get Rosa to agree to it just as passionately. The dress Liana had sent her—along with the make-up, hair and car she’d arranged—began to make more sense. And seeing Aaron now had Rosa regretting that she’d resisted an introduction for such a long time...

‘I wouldn’t put it past my mother,’ Aaron replied darkly. It sent a shiver down her spine. But she didn’t know if that was because of what he’d said or the fact that she felt inexplicably drawn to him. Even though he didn’t seem quite as enamoured.

‘This does seem like an excessive prank though.’

‘My mother’s speciality.’

‘Really?’ She tilted her head and, for once, let herself lean into what she wanted to do, refusing to give the doubt that followed her around constantly any footing. ‘How about we have a glass of champagne and you can tell me all about it?’

She wasn’t sure how long he studied her. But when his lips curved into a smile—when his expression turned from reserved into one she couldn’t describe but felt, deep in her stomach—she knew she would have waited an eternity for it. And thought that—just maybe—he was drawn to her too...

* * *

‘I remember,’ Rosa said softly. ‘It was a hospital Christmas ball. Or so we thought. Our mothers told us they wanted us to go with them. That they’d meet us there because they wanted to have dinner before. But there was no hospital Christmas ball. Just a party for two that our mothers had arranged so that we could meet.’

There was a tenderness on Rosa’s face that didn’t fit with the woman who’d left him four months ago. An indulgence too, though he suspected that was for her mother who’d passed away a year after that incident. And for his mother, who Rosa still had a soft spot for, despite what she’d seen Liana put him through over the years.

Aaron clenched his jaw. The emotion might have been misleading but her actions hadn’t been. She’d left him without a word. Without a phone call. Without a note. He’d got home from work one day to find her clothes gone. She’d taken nothing else, and he’d had to face living in the house they’d furnished together—the home they’d built together—alone.

‘I imagine my mother wanted this to be much the same,’ Aaron said curtly. ‘She forces us to be alone together but, instead of starting to date this time, we work things out.’

‘But it’s not like before,’ she denied. ‘There actually was a ball then. Sure, no one else was there, but there was food and drink, and the place had been decorated for a party. This—’ she gestured around them ‘—is so far away from that.’

‘But she sent you a dress again?’ He tried to keep what seeing her in that dress did to him out of his voice.

‘No. I designed this one.’

‘You’ve never made anything like this for yourself before.’

‘I know. It was...a special occasion. Your mom’s sixtieth birthday,’ she added quickly. But it was too late. He’d already figured out that she’d made the dress because of him.

He wasn’t sure if he was pleased or annoyed by the fact. He’d been trying to get her to make something for herself for years. Now, when they were...whatever they were, she’d chosen to listen to him.

Perhaps that was why she’d left. Because he’d been holding her back. He’d add it to the list of possibilities. A list that spoke loudly—accusingly—of his faults.