‘Ready to try that tea?’ Kristof asked.
She nodded, her gaze lingering on him. His size filled the bathroom, his presence stole the air and her sense of gravity, made her head swirl. This man was the father of her baby. Unbelievable really, that he’d been keen enough to make love to her every night for a whole week and then welcome her into his home here in London when they weren’t supposed to see each other again. A soft breath trickled over her lips. If only he could see her as a woman to spend his future with. If only she hadn’t gone and fallen in love with him.
A steady hand took her elbow, and she was led out to the bedroom. ‘Get back into bed until you’re feeling one hundred per cent again. I’ll bring your tea here.’
‘I should be all right now. One bout at a time seems to be how it plays out for me.’
‘Bed. Now.’ There was a thread of command in his husky voice.
Alesha obeyed. She was quite liking having someone in charge for a few minutes. It gave her time to get her strength back and stop thinking about Kristof as anything other than the father of her child.
His head appeared around the door. ‘Are you ready for a piece of toast? Dry or buttered?’
She shook her head. ‘Just the tea. I’ll eat when we get to the market.’
‘You still want to go?’
Yes, she wanted to have that talk about how they were going to deal with being joint parents in separate homes, and it would be easier on her to do that away from this opulent apartment that needed knocking into comfortable, used shape. The atmosphere intimidated her at moments when she relaxed too far. She could not imagine a small child crawling around the place getting slobber on the carpet or a chair leg. ‘I adore markets.’
One dark eyebrow arched and his mouth twitched. ‘Should I hire a trailer for the morning’s shopping?’
‘A very large one.’
‘You a shopaholic by any chance?’ The question was laden.
‘Nope. I like browsing and daydreaming but I don’t usually buy up large.’ Though there was a baby growing in her tummy. ‘Though I might be tempted to get a teddy bear today.’
‘Alesha.’ The laughter had gone from his voice. ‘Don’t rush it. You’re only a few weeks pregnant.’
Her skin tightened. ‘You think I’m tempting fate?’
‘I’m being super-cautious.’
‘You’re frightening me, is what you’re doing.’
Immediately he was beside the bed, reaching for her hand to squeeze it gently. ‘Sorry. I don’t mean to.’
‘Then why did you? Do you always look for the bad in things?’
Her hand fell from his as he stepped back. ‘I’ll make that tea.’
‘Why are you avoiding my question?’
‘I’m trying to come up with an answer.’
Looking back to their nights in Dubrovnik, she realised there’d been other times when he had changed the subject if she’d asked something personal. Oh, he’d have answers all right, just not ones he wanted to share. Great. Worked well for a relationship even of the kind they were planning—not. ‘I would like to learn more about you.’
But he’d gone. Alesha huffed as she sat on the bed and leaned back against the headboard. Bet it took longer than usual to make the tea. Kristof wouldn’t be in a hurry to talk to her now.
* * *
‘So much for breakfast,’ Kristof commented when they got to the market. The place was humming and the food cart had a queue to Africa. He’d thought the cooler weather might’ve kept people indoors, but apparently not. ‘I should’ve made you something at home.’ But then he’d have had to face up to some of Alesha’s questions. She might’ve only asked one that morning, but answer it and there’d be more.
‘I’m going to the bread stall to get something. I’m starving,’ she told him. ‘Then I’m grabbing a coffee. What about you?’
‘Suits me perfectly. You meant to drink coffee?’
A look of annoyance lashed him. ‘Okay, tea. You can’t avoid talking about our baby just because we’re not sitting down to breakfast. We’ve got all day.’
He winced. ‘Actually we haven’t. I’ve got a wedding to attend this afternoon.’
Rocking back on her heels, Alesha glared at him. ‘Thanks for telling me.’
‘I didn’t see the need. We’ve got a few hours this morning.’
‘Really?’ She shoved the sleeve of her thick jacket up and held her wrist in front of him so he could read the time.
Another wince. Not hours, barely an hour before he had to get home to spruce himself up. ‘Right, food first. We’ll take it and the coffee over to one of the park benches.’
She didn’t move. ‘Are you trying to get out of this discussion by any chance?’ One hand gripped a hip.
A hip he remembered kissing all too well. Which was totally inappropriate right now, and clouded the issue between them. ‘No, but the morning did get away on us.’
With you being sick and me taking my time making your cup of tea so you might forget what you’d asked.
‘Alesha, I understand you want to know where we’re at and what the way forward might be.’
She did a funny twisty thing with her head as she continued that stare. ‘Good. Then let’s get down to it—while we’re munching on food.’
‘Surrounded by crowds and having to shout to be heard?’ He shook his head before taking her elbow and leading her to the bread stall. ‘What would you like?’
‘Two chocolate croissants.’
Hardly healthy food for junior, but he daredn’t comment, merely ordered said croissants and a bacon butty for himself. At the stall next door he got a long black and a tea before they walked across to a bench, only to lose it when they were yards away. ‘Blast.’
Alesha placed her tea on the path between her feet and began devouring a croissant, chocolate smearing across her upper lip.
He itched to wipe it away with his finger, or, better yet, lick it up. Instead he bit into his butty and chewed and chewed. Bacon was his favourite morning kick-start, but nothing was happening today. Sipping the over-hot coffee added to his woes when it burned his tongue. ‘At least we can be thankful you don’t have to return to New Zealand.’
There was that despairing look again. ‘We covered this last night.’
Just kicking off the talk. ‘Are you sure you’re happy settling down in England? I mean, why don’t you want to go home to have your baby?’ It was imperative he knew. Suddenly he couldn’t imagine what it would be like if she did up sticks and return home, where she must have some friends, if not family. Not to have Alesha near was beginning to worry him. And this wasn’t about the baby. This was a leftover from their time in Croatia. Or was it? He didn’t know. Didn’t understand a thing that had happened, or been said, since those words had spilled out between them.
I’m pregnant.
‘The baby’s father lives in England.’ The reply was too quick, as if she didn’t want to say anything about what or who was—or wasn’t—back in New Zealand. ‘Are you afraid I’ll take the baby away from you?’ Now there was concern—for him—in her eyes.
He preferred the despair. ‘I’d like you to be happy with where you are, secure in the knowledge you’re doing the right thing by you and the baby.’ Could he ask about her family without upsetting her too much? He would have to know some time.
‘If I go south you’ll take visiting rights twice a year. Fly in for a few days, have a great time at the amusement park with your child, and fly out again.’ Despite the tartness in her voice that concern was still there; growing even.
He had to stop it, which meant not asking the big questions—yet. ‘I want the best for you both. That’s all.’
‘Who hurt you, Kristof? Not your mother, surely? She worships the ground you walk on.’
You’re right. She didn’t.
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