Leah Ashton – Nine Month Countdown (страница 5)

And he would’ve declined, anyway. He was sure.

It was for the best.

In his experience, keeping things simple was always for the best.

Later, after his shower and as he walked across the car park, he felt his phone vibrating in the backpack slung over his shoulder. Automatically he fished it out, then, on seeing it was an unknown number, considered for a moment whether he should bother answering.

Work-related numbers weren’t stored on his phone, of course—but then, no one was going to be calling him while he was on leave.

But could it be to do with his mum?

So he answered it, if a bit gruffly, and was certainly not expecting the contradictory soft but firm—and familiar—female voice he heard.

‘Is that Angus Barlow?’

‘Ivy Molyneux,’ he replied, and then smiled when she gave a little sound of surprise.

‘Uh—yes,’ she said. A pause. ‘I asked Evan for your number.’

She was nervous, her words brisker than normal.

‘That wasn’t very discreet,’ he said.

Hell, it didn’t bother him. Ivy could’ve announced the fact they’d had sex on the beach to the whole wedding reception and he wouldn’t have cared.

But he knew she did.

Unease prickled at the back of his neck.

‘No, it wasn’t discreet at all,’ Ivy said, her words pancake flat.

Then there was a long, long pause.

‘Why did you call me, Ivy?’ He was gruff now.

She cleared her throat. ‘Are you free tonight?’ she asked, much more softly.

Relief washed over him. He’d continued walking as they’d been talking, and now he propped a shoulder against the side of his black SUV.

He smiled. He remembered that tone from that night. That soft, intimate—almost shy—voice. So different from the brash confidence of Ivy Molyneux, mining executive.

He was jumping at shadows. Ivy Molyneux was a woman who went after what she wanted. This phone call was nothing more. Unexpected, but also—not unwelcome.

‘I’m free,’ he said. ‘How about we meet at Ms Black at eight?’

A wine bar in Subiaco he’d visited with the rest of his squadron after they’d returned from their latest assignment—before they’d quickly relocated to the pub next door. It was sophisticated, intimate, stunning. Very Ivy.

‘Fine,’ she said. ‘I—uh—guess I’ll see you there.’

‘Ivy—’ he said, before she had the chance to hang up. ‘I’m still not after anything serious.’

He felt it was important he was honest.

But judging by her almost shriek of laughter before she ended the call, he had nothing to worry about on that front, regardless.

* * *

How had she let this happen?

For what felt like the hundredth time, Ivy had to stop herself fidgeting. So far she’d swivelled her bar stool, kicked her heels against the foot rest and attempted to tear a coaster into a million pieces.

She’d counted every step she’d made tonight. From her house to her car, and then from where her driver dropped her right outside this incredibly trendy bar to this seat. It was ridiculous.

In front of her sat an untouched glass of champagne.

She didn’t even know why she’d ordered it. Out of habit?

Or denial?

Ha!

As if it weren’t the only thought reverberating about her head.

I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant.

How had she let this happen?

This being pregnant. This being dressed in a cute cocktail dress on a Thursday night to tell a man she didn’t even know something that would change his life for ever.

The dress was new. She’d dragged one of her assistants out shopping. Ivy had made sure she’d smiled a lot and dropped hints about her ‘date’ tonight while still being deliberately coy.

That was all that had kept her going as the seconds and minutes had crawled along—focusing on her...plan.

In all honesty, it was far from her best plan. In fact, it was most likely her worst.

But she needed a plan right now. She needed a way forward, a way to fix this.

Because Ivy Molyneux didn’t make mistakes.

‘Ivy.’

At the sound of Angus’s already familiar deep voice, Ivy channelled Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman as she slowly pivoted her chair to face him. What she really wanted to do was disappear between the floorboards. So, so badly.

But then she saw him.

In Bali, in his casual wedding attire, he’d been undeniably handsome. Heck, he’d be undeniably handsome anywhere.

But in the intimate lighting of the bar, in dark jeans, boots and a slim fitting black shirt he was...just plain gorgeous. His clothes weren’t particularly formal, but he somehow managed to still look effortlessly dressed to impress. He looked darker, taller, broader than she remembered.

Especially now that he was standing so close to her. Close enough to touch.

And then he did touch her. Casually leaning forward to brush a kiss against her cheek and to bring his lips to her ear.

‘You are stunning,’ he said. His breath momentarily tickled her neck.

Ivy shivered.

He stepped back, his appreciative gaze sweeping over her.

She loved the dress she’d bought today. Teal silk with a feminine wrap bodice and a fitted skirt that hit mid-thigh, it flattered her curves and on any other day would’ve made her feel on top of the world.

That it didn’t helped bring her back to reality.

This wasn’t a date.

This so wasn’t a date.

Ivy slid off her chair, waving away the arm he offered her. Without a word she headed to the back of the bar. It was busy, with all but the three tables along the far wall occupied.

Each was marked with a small reserved sign, and it was towards the middle table that Ivy gestured.

‘I booked a table,’ she said.

She’d booked three, actually, and paid for a night’s worth of meals on all. It was still hardly private, but it would have to do.

‘Dinner?’ Angus asked.

Despite everything, Ivy managed a smile. Clearly dinner and conversation were not what Angus had planned for the night.