Suddenly Expecting (13 page)

His laughter followed her as she went into the kitchen to get drinks and plates. When she emerged, he was scowling at his phone.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“Everyone’s got marriage on the brain.” Connor slowly placed his phone on the table and sprawled on her couch. “My mother’s been bugging me about it. Apparently a successful thirty-three-year-old guy needs a wife to appear more stable to our conservative European investors.”

Kat patted his hand sympathetically. “Well, between Marco and me, I can honestly say it’s not what it’s cracked up to be.”

Connor snorted. “Yeah. Two apiece, right?”

“I’m two. Marco is one and a half.”

Connor centered a coaster on the table and placed his beer bottle on it. “So is there any truth to the rumors?”

“Which ones?” She flopped down on the single-couch chair.

“The marriage ones. Because everyone’s waiting for the real press statement, you know, not the lame ‘no comment’ one.”

“I know.” She fixed him with a look. “Yes,” she said at length.

“Yes, what? Marco actually asked you to marry him?”

“A few times, yes.”

His breath came out in a whoosh. “Wow. And?”

Kat shook her head. “He only offered to avoid the nightmare PR—which is ironic, considering we’re in the middle of it anyway. I haven’t even announced I’m pregnant yet, so imagine what that’ll do,” she said as she flipped open the pizza lid and inhaled deeply. “Anyway, enough about that. I’ve got something more important to talk to you about. I need to—”

“Hang on, reverse.” He leaned in. “More important than you being happy?”

“What?”

He sighed. “Can you not see it?”

“See what?”

He thumped a palm on the table. “You and Marco. You’re perfect for each other.”

Kat felt the tingle of embarrassment all the way down her spine, her eyes quickly darting away. “It’s not like that, Connor. He’s my—”

“Best friend, yeah, yeah, I know.” Connor rolled his eyes. “You’ve both been preaching that old chestnut for so long, I’m ready to strangle someone. Why don’t you guys just admit you love each other and put yourselves out of your misery?”

“I do love him, Connor. I love you, too.”

He grinned. “Ditto, sweetheart. But you’re not
in love
with me.”

She frowned, the denial on her tongue, but instead she just pressed her lips together. “Look, forget that for a moment. I need to talk to you about something.” She leaned in, hands tucked between her knees. “You know how I went for that blood test last month?”

Connor paused, midchew. “Yeah?” At her look he slowly placed the pizza on the plate, wiped his hands on a napkin and gave her his full attention. “Ah, Kat, don’t tell me they got it wrong again....”

“No, nothing like that,” she said quickly. “Okay, so the reason why my test was clear was...because...well...” It was still unbelievable, no matter how many times she tried to process it. Saying it aloud only made it more real. “Keith and Nina aren’t my biological parents.”

A deathly silence permeated her apartment.

Connor’s brow dipped. “What?”

“I had a blood test. Nina and Keith are not my biological parents,” she repeated patiently.

Connor’s jaw dropped, eyes rounding. “No way.”

Kat nodded. “It’s true. My blood type and Mum’s aren’t compatible. Then we flew down to see my dad and he confirmed it.”

“We? Marco went with you?”

She nodded. “And there’s more.”

He huffed out a breath. “Jeez, what?”

Kat smiled. “Connor...” She held his gaze unwaveringly. “My father is Stephen Blair.”

Everything was still for a few seconds, maybe more, until Connor’s loud bark of laughter split the air like a shot and she jumped. Frowning, she watched in silence as he sat there, chuckling and shaking his head. What did that mean? Was he...upset? Happy? Freaked out?

“Are you okay?” she finally said after a few moments.

He shot to his feet. “No, actually. Give me a moment.”

She watched him pace, with one hand running through his hair, the other on his hip. It was worrying, not knowing if he’d taken the news as a good thing or not.

Finally, after a few interminable minutes, he turned to her. “You know, I just knew it was something like this. I
knew
it.”

“What?”

He paused, taking in her expression, and shook his head. “About ten years ago, I caught the tail end of an argument. Couldn’t hear much but I did eventually work out Mum and Dad were talking about a child. Oh, I didn’t realize at the time that it was you,” he hastened to add. “I never would’ve worked that one out.”

She blinked. “What did they say?”

“Well, Mum was pretty pissed off—that was clear. Dad didn’t want to talk about it, as usual. Then after, Mum ended up with a new Prada handbag and a necklace from Paspaley, and everything just seemed like normal.”

Kat sat back in her chair, processing that information. “You didn’t say anything about it to us.”

Connor gave her a look. “I don’t tell you guys everything.”

True. Connor was extremely private when it came to his family—it had taken years for him to share even the most basic of details. It was only because they’d witnessed his parents’ arguments firsthand that they knew about them at all. It was a deep source of embarrassment for him.

“Mum’s always going on about Dad’s affairs. You know that,” he said now, picking absently at the label on his beer bottle.

Kat nodded, her expression solemn.

“So I overheard a bit more than usual. Apparently my mother still hasn’t forgiven him for being in bed with another woman the day I was born.”

Kat’s mouth thinned. Connor projected such a hard and capable facade that people refused to believe there was a heart of gold under that swish Armani suit and classically handsome face. She knew that mask was to protect him from feeling too deeply, but she’d known him long enough to realize that he sometimes felt more than any of them put together.

“My sister, huh?” he said now, taking another swig of beer with a smile. “How do you feel about that?”

She was his sister. She had a
brother.
With everything else going on in her life, she’d pushed the impact of that detail to the back of her mind, but now, faced with a grinning Connor and the familiar way his eyes creased, the easily recognizable sweep of his nose, it was unmistakable.

She felt her mouth stretch into an answering grin. “Do we need to hug to mark this momentous occasion?”

“Hell, yeah.” When he opened his arms, she got up, moved toward him and was enveloped in his embrace. The relief, the utter joy she felt at this moment, when it had just been bad news after bad news, was like a weight off her shoulders. She leaned into the hug, into his solid, hard warmth, and felt the tears well up. She couldn’t believe how happy this actually made her.

Damn pregnancy hormones.

“Are you going to tell your dad that you know?” she asked, muffled against his shoulder.

He pulled back with a grimace. “I have no idea. After all these years of keeping the secret, do you think he’d want us to know? Plus, it could create a backlash with yours.”

She nodded. “And it doesn’t really change anything, him knowing, does it? I mean, I’m not going to demand in on the will or anything.”

Connor laughed. “But it would be fun to call him Grandad in seven months’ time.” He glanced pointedly at her belly.

“You’re terrible.”

He laughed again, and again she felt the burden of the past few weeks shift.

Finally, something was going right. If only she could fix things with Marco.

Her expression must’ve given something away, because Connor’s brow suddenly creased.

“Problem?”

“Oh, besides the gossip, pregnancy hormones and the fact Marco won’t speak to me?”

“Well, you’re not exactly speaking to
him,
are you?”

She opened her mouth to deny it but wisely closed it instead. “Plus his network contract’s up for negotiation, so naturally they’re speculating on that, too.”

“They won’t drop him. He’s too much of a draw.” Connor leaned back, cradling his beer with a small smile.

“What’s that look for?”

“It’s awesome you two are finally a couple. I always knew there was something, despite your denials.”

“Connor, we’re not. We’re not speaking.”

“Only because he’s not here. Wait until you guys see each other again...next week, right?”

“Yes. At the awards thing.”

“There you go. You’ll be in Sydney, in a hotel. A perfect opportunity to talk alone.” When Kat remained silent, he impatiently tapped a finger against his bottle. “Listen. Is moping around with a head full of what-ifs better? No. Just say you love him, then kiss and make up.”

“But I don’t—”

“Sure you do.”

“No...”
Yeah. You do.

It was like a revelation. As if something fundamental had changed deep inside her. The false positive, the adoption, the baby had all added bit by bit to this moment, forcing her to see what was truly important in her life. To reassess again, to work out what was of true value to her.

The answer was so blindingly simple she gasped from the impact.

Marco. He was the one.

She sighed.
“I told him we’re just friends a few times, Connor,” she said softly, voicing the doubt that had plagued her the past few days. “Surely there comes a time when he actually takes me at my word.”

“You’re talking about Marco here,” Connor said. “And anyway, you’re his best friend and you’re having a baby together. He can’t cut you out of his life permanently.”

Kat nodded, saying nothing. Three times she’d pushed him back into the friends zone, and three times he’d not put up a fight.

Surely that said something?

She sighed, leaning back into the sofa. Either way, she’d have her answer next week.

She took a shaky breath. This was scary, so much scarier than anything she’d ever done in her life. Because in laying everything out there, there was a real possibility of rejection.

He could reject her. Say he just wanted to remain friends. And the question was, would she be satisfied with that?

Ten

T
he next five days were a crazy, breathless mess of activity. Kat was flat out at work, working on the Cyclone Rory stories, the follow-ups, the charity lines, but the overwhelming media attention on her personal life had started to impact on her work, with some sponsors severing their partnership at the last minute, leaving her frustrated and angry. Outwardly, Grace didn’t seem overly concerned, but Kat knew she was furious. Couple that with their already cool tension, and work was not a pleasant place to be.

Marco had managed to call her once, the day of her ultrasound, but other than that, their texts had been short and sweet. And it broke Kat’s heart, knowing their friendship was showing those irreversible cracks.

Finally something had to give. So the day before she was due to fly to Sydney, she walked into Grace’s office and firmly closed the door.

“I’ll do it.”

“Do what?” Grace asked, glancing up from stirring her morning coffee.

“The interview. An exclusive.” She quickly put up a hand as Grace started to speak. “But everything—and I mean
everything
—has to go past me first.”

Grace blinked slowly, then her face broke out into a huge grin as she shot to her feet. “Kat, this is brilliant! Wonderful! Oooooh...” She rounded the desk and embraced her in a cloud of perfume. “This has made my week...my month—hell, possibly my entire year!” Kat slowly pulled away, smiling thinly as her boss perched on the corner of her desk, beaming. “Can I ask you why now?”

Kat shrugged. “Timing. It’s the right time.”

Grace paused, watching her closely. “Really.”

“Yep. Time to set the record straight once and for all. About everything.” She met her boss’s gaze unwaveringly, and in that small pause, an understanding passed between them, one that needed no words. This was Grace’s moment and Kat was giving it to her. They both knew there’d never be another opportunity, just as they both knew things had fundamentally changed between them these past few weeks.

She knew it and Grace knew it.

“When?” Grace finally asked.

“Next week. After Sydney.”

After another moment’s pause, her boss nodded. “I’ll set it up and let you know.”

“Okay. And can you wait until after the awards before you start publicizing? The night should be about the players, not me,” she added with a thin smile.

To her surprise, Grace nodded. “Sure.”

“Thanks.” Kat moved toward the door, unprepared for the wave of sadness that engulfed her. They both knew it wasn’t just an interview date they were setting: it was Kat’s quitting date, too.

Even knowing she was moving on to something bigger and better, something that really made her heart sing, didn’t make leaving hurt any less. Despite the stress, the imperfections and the recent personal issues, this job had come at a perfect time, when she’d needed it the most. She’d always be grateful for that.

“Grace,” she said now. “I want to thank you for—”

“No.” The older woman shook her head, smiling softly as she reached for her ringing phone. “I thank
you.
It’s been a pleasure working with you, Katerina Jackson.”

Their gazes held for a moment, then Grace answered her call and it was Kat’s cue to leave.

* * *

Kat flew into Sydney on Saturday and spent all day getting massaged, primped and fussed over, satisfied she’d gained at least some control over the spiraling situation. Meanwhile, Marco spent hours under harsh studio lights dressed in nothing but his underwear, fulfilling his Skins contract, so the first time they actually saw each other was half an hour before the limo picked them up for the FFA awards ceremony.

When she heard the knock at her hotel door, she nervously smoothed down her pale blue satin dress and pushed her hair behind her ears. All the half sentences she’d barely had time to practice crumbled on her tongue when she opened the door and saw him standing there, looking incredible and perfect in a designer suit and tie, his hair casually tousled and a familiar this’ll-be-fun smile on his generous mouth.

His eyes swept over her thoroughly, taking in every last detail from her tight elaborate updo, to the dangling earrings and the strappy floor-length ice-blue ball gown with a respectable amount of ever-growing cleavage on show.

Then he held out his arm, said softly, “You look beautiful,” and her heart just melted.

Twenty minutes later, stepping out of the limo onto the red carpet together, Kat took a moment to note the familiar players currently in European competition, now all returned for this special night that honored Australian-born sportsmen and women. As usual a smattering of die-hard and local fans stood behind the roped barriers, taking photos, and she felt her mouth curve, her expression calm.

She was ready to face the crowd.

She spent minutes gaining more confidence, her tension relaxing as she mingled with people she knew, chatting casually to old acquaintances.

This was going to be a good night, she thought as they made their way slowly down the carpet. No intrusive press, no focus on her. Just dinner and the awards. Yet as she turned, midsmile, and saw a familiar figure stride across the carpet, she faltered.

James Carter. James Bloody Carter.

Marco’s former Marseille teammate, the Irish-born center who’d charmed her for over a year then convinced her to get married in a quickie Bali wedding. Then had promptly shagged some woman in their bridal suite seventy-two hours later.

It was too much to expect that he’d gotten fat and ugly in the years since she’d last seen him. If anything he was more handsome, more toned. Broader in the shoulders, leaner at the waist. His flashy suit set off a healthy physique so discreetly that to the untrained eye it might have seemed effortless. Kat knew better.

“What?” Marco was squeezing her arm, and she glanced up to see the concern in his face.

“James is here.”

His mouth twisted briefly. “Really?”

She frowned, ignoring the fact they were on a red carpet with cameras within recording distance. “Wasn’t he supposed to be in Italy or something?”

“Yeah.” He took a step forward and they kept on walking. “Look, he’s just a presenter. He’ll be onstage most of the time, not at our table. He won’t come over, and if he does, just say nothing.”

“Easy for you to say. He’s not the one who cheated on you.”

Marco sighed. “Just...be cool, okay?”

She snorted. “I am
always
cool.”

“Uh-huh.”

He squeezed her hand, she grinned at him, and suddenly it was just as it was before, where they’d been so familiar, so close. So comfortable.

Damn, she missed that. It’d been three weeks since she’d seen him, and boy, she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed him until he’d turned up at her door dressed in a formal suit and one of his expensive silk ties. And when he’d smiled...it had taken a massive effort not to tackle him then and there.

Now, with the heat rising in her belly, she glanced around at the smattering of people who’d stopped to rubberneck, the long red carpet that led into the plush foyer and the familiar faces of Sydney’s football community. With a deep breath, she put on a smile and firmly shoved everything else from her mind. This was Marco’s night, and she should just enjoy it. There was time enough for stress and worry later.

* * *

The ballroom easily seated two hundred and was elegantly decorated, with tiny blue downlights in the ceiling casting a cool glow over the round banquet tables. The tables themselves featured art deco–style centerpieces. People hovered around the bar, and a slide show above the stage was playing highlights of the past season backed by a classic-rock sound track.

Surprisingly, despite the presence of cameras and James, Kat was less tense than she thought she’d be. For one, the evening was about the awards and the players, not her. There were no intrusive questions or random photos or the usual stares-and-whispers from complete strangers. Sure, there were cameras, but she could smile nicely and handle a few shots. And as long as James kept his distance like he’d been doing for the past hour, she’d make it through the night unscathed.

She smoothed her gown down, thankful for the flowing empire style that hid her growing belly, only just managing to stop herself before placing a telling hand on the thirteen-week-old bump as she walked over to the bar. Even though this was a private function and she was fairly relaxed, everyone was still equipped with a camera and a Twitter account.

After she reached the bar and ordered drinks, she casually scanned the room, a small smile on her lips. A smile that immediately fell when she felt a guy standing way too close behind her. She frowned, preparing to say something, but when she glanced back, all the words just stuck in her throat.

“Hi there, Kitty.”

James Carter was standing there, all casual as you please, hands in his pockets, face creased into a charming grin. After darting her gaze around to see who was watching—and seeing the coast was clear—she sent him a withering look.

“What do you want?”

James’s smile was perfect—too perfect. “What—no hello? No ‘how’ve you been these last few years?’” His faint Irish accent oozed over her like thick molasses, bringing with it a wealth of conflicting memories.

“I have nothing to say to you, James,” she snapped.

His mouth quirked. “Is that any way to greet a long-lost—”

“A long-lost what? A friend?” She snorted. “Let’s call it like it is. You’re my cheating ex—a drinking and gambling ex with a serious money-management problem.”

“Kitty, darlin’...” His expression was pained. “Don’t be like that. I didn’t come over here to rehash old wounds.”

“Don’t call me that.” She frowned. “So why? You want to give people
more
to talk about?”

“No.” He drew a slow hand over his eyes. “But you’re kind of a one-woman pap magnet—the magazines and papers are all over you. I flew in for the awards and—”

“I’m not interested in your life,” Kat interrupted, turning back to the bar.

As she waited for her order, she could feel his scrutiny.
Dammit, don’t take the bait. Just ignore him, and then go back to Marco. Ignore it, ignore it. Ignore—

With a sigh, she turned to him. “Fine. What do you want, James?”

“Forgiveness.”

Kat blinked. “Sorry. Fresh out of that.”

James took a step closer, and instinctively she stepped back against the bar. He winced. “Believe me, Ki-Kat. I’m truly sorry.”

“Are you.”

“Yes.”

Kat flushed. “Well, ‘sorry’ doesn’t cut it.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” She nodded to the barman and then took the drinks.

“You know, after the divorce I spent a year working my way down to rock bottom,” he began stiffly, following her as she made her way across the room. “I got into a car accident, spent forever in rehab. I’m a completely different person now.”

She stopped. “I know. I read all about it.” Briefly she recalled the headlines, the shock then relief she’d felt at reading about his struggles. “But I don’t see what this has to do with me.”

“I told you. I want to make amends.”

“Fine. You’ve apologized. Now I’m going.”

“Wait.” His hand shot out, grabbing her elbow, and she stilled, staring at him.

Slowly he withdrew then self-consciously looked around at the clusters of noisy people milling about the room.

“You can’t expect absolution just because you ask for it. This is so typical of you, James.” She scowled. “So selfish. I was your trophy girlfriend and then you cheated on me. There’s no forgiving that.”

“I know.” His expression dropped, and for a second he looked genuinely contrite. “I can’t excuse my past behavior.”

“No, you can’t.”

She moved off, hoping he’d get the hint, but still he followed, until she got to her table and she finally put the drinks down.

James’s mouth thinned in frustration. “You never let me explain. I wanted to talk on our honeymoon, but you stormed off. And anyway, you weren’t such a saint yourself.”

“What?”

“Yeah. You had this chip on your shoulder the size of Alaska. You carried around your toughness as if it were some goddamn bravery badge, instead of the defense it really was. And I always had to compete with Marco. The perfect, do-no-wrong, everybody-loves-me Marco Corelli.”

“He is my
best friend!
”

“Really. Can you swear, right here and right now, that you never thought of him as more?”

“Of course not!” But she’d hesitated a second too long, and the look on James’s face said it all.

“Did you sleep with him?”

She sucked in a sharp breath, gaze darting to the people around them. “Oh, my God, James, I am so not doing this with you. This is ridiculous!”

He glared at her, his handsome face twisted into angry lines, until he finally let out a breath, hand going to the back of his neck. “Look,” he muttered, his gaze firmly on the floor. “I didn’t come here to argue. I just wanted to—”

“You okay, Kat?”

Kat whirled, the words dying on her lips as her eyes collided with the steel of Marco’s at the same time his arm looped loosely around her waist.

She was so stunned by the suddenly intimate gesture that she totally forgot to step away, to create a more platonic space between them. And Marco... Well, it was as if someone had cast a spell and turned him to stone, he was so still. Yet beneath that stillness, that cold expression, Kat could sense his body coiled as if he was ready to spring into action any second.

Dangerous.

“James,” Marco finally said, his voice low and painfully polite.

James looked startled but swiftly recovered, holding out his hand. “Hi, Marco.”

Marco slowly and pointedly looked at it and remained where he was. “Congratulations on your award. Player of the Year is quite an achievement.”

James shot Kat a look of part frustration, part wariness. “Thank you.”

She had to hand it to him—her ex was smooth. From the top of his expensively shaggy haircut to the soles of his shiny black dress shoes, the man had all the right props. He was someone who used charm and looks to get what he wanted.