The Bridesmaid's Baby Bump (7 page)

‘That’s so good of you to offer,’ she said with excess politeness. ‘But I didn’t cancel my return shuttle bus trip. It would be easier all round if we said goodbye here tomorrow morning.’

‘You’re sure, Eliza?’ He made a token protest.

‘Absolutely sure,’ she said, heading towards the house without a backward glance.

Jake watched her, his hands fisted by his sides. He fancied blue angel wings unfurling as she prepared to fly right out of his life.

It was stupid of him ever to have thought things with Eliza could end any other way.

CHAPTER EIGHT

T
EN
WEEKS
LATER
Eliza sat alone in her car, parked on a street in an inner western suburb of Sydney, too shaken even to think about driving away from an appointment that had rocked her world. She clutched her keys in her hand, too unsteady to get the key into the ignition.

Eliza hated surprises. She liked to keep her life under control, with schedules and timetables and plans. Surprises had derailed her life on more than one occasion. Most notably the revelation that her burst appendix had left her infertile. But in this case the derailment was one that had charged her with sheer bubbling joy in one way and deep, churning anxiety in the other.

She was pregnant.

‘It would take a miracle for you to get pregnant.’

Those had been her doctor’s words when Eliza had told her of her list of symptoms. Words that had petered out into shock at the sight of a positive pregnancy test.

That miracle had happened in Port Douglas, with Jake—most likely the one time there had been a slip with their protection. Eliza hadn’t worried. After all, she couldn’t get pregnant.

Seemed she could.

And she had.

She laid her hand on her tummy, still flat and firm. But there was a tiny new life growing in there.
A baby.
She could hardly believe it was true, still marvelled at the miracle. But she had seen it.

Not
it
.

Him or her.

The doctor had wanted an ultrasound examination to make absolutely sure there wasn’t an ectopic pregnancy in the damaged tube.

Active—like me
, had been Eliza’s first joyous thought when she’d seen the image of her tiny baby, turning cartwheels safe and sound inside her womb. Her second thought had been of loneliness and regret that there was no one there to share the miraculous moment with her. But she wanted this more than she had ever wanted anything in her life.

Her baby.

Eliza realised her cheeks were wet with tears. Fiercely, she scrubbed at her eyes.

Her third thought after the initial disbelief and shock had been to call Jake and tell him. There was absolutely no doubt he was the father.

His baby.

But how could she? He’d made it very clear he didn’t
ever
want to be a father.

Dear heaven, she couldn’t tell him.

He would think she was one of the dollar signs flashing gold-diggers he so despised. What had he said?

‘A baby means lifetime child support—that’s a guaranteed income for a certain type of woman.’

She dreaded the scorn in his eyes if she told him.

You know I told you I couldn’t have a baby? Turns out I’m pregnant. You’re going to be a daddy.

And what if he wanted her not to go forward with the pregnancy? No way—ever—would that be an option for her.

How on earth had this happened?

‘Nature can be very persistent,’ her doctor had explained. ‘The tube we thought was blocked must not have been completely blocked. Or it unblocked itself.’

It really was a miracle—and one she hugged to herself.

She was not daunted by the thought of bringing the baby up by herself. Not that she believed it would be easy. But she owned her own home—a small terraced house in Alexandria, not far from the converted warehouse that housed the Party Queens headquarters. And Party Queens was still doing well financially, thanks to her sound management and the talent and drive of her business partners. And a creative new head chef was working out well. The nature of the business meant her hours could be flexible. Andie had often brought baby Hugo in when he was tiny, and did so even now, when he was a toddler. Eliza could afford childcare when needed—perhaps a nanny. Though she was determined to raise her child herself, with minimal help from nannies and childminders.

Her impossible dream had come true.
She was going to be a mother.
But the situation with her baby’s father was more of a nightmare.

Eliza rested her head on her folded arms on top of the steering wheel, slumped with despair.
Pregnant from a four-night stand.
By a man she hadn’t heard from since he’d walked her down the steep driveway that led away from his tropical hideaway and waved her goodbye.

Now he’d think she’d tried to trap him.

‘I certainly wouldn’t want to find myself caught in a trap like that,’
he’d said, with a look of horror on his handsome face.

Eliza raised her head up off her folded arms. Took a few deep, steadying breaths. She wouldn’t tell Jake. Nor would she tell her best friends about her pregnancy. Not yet. Not when both their husbands were friends with Jake.

If her tummy was this flat now, hopefully she wouldn’t show for some time yet. Maybe she could fudge the dates. Or say the baby had been conceived by donor and IVF. The fact that Jake lived in Brisbane would become an advantage once she couldn’t hide her pregnancy any longer. He wouldn’t have to see her and her burgeoning bump.

But what if the baby looked like Jake? People close to Jake, like Andie and Dominic, would surely twig to the truth.
What if...what if...what if?
She covered her ears with her hands, as if to silence the questions roiling in her brain. But to no effect.

Was it fair
not
to tell him he was going to be a father? If she didn’t make any demands on him surely he wouldn’t believe she was a gold-digger? Maybe he would want to play some role in the baby’s life. She wouldn’t fight him if he did. It would be better for the baby. The baby who would become a child, a teenager, a person. A person with the right to know about his or her father.

It was all too much for her to deal with. She put her hand to her forehead, then over her mouth, suddenly feeling clammy and nauseous again.

The sickness had been relentless—so had the bone-deep exhaustion. She hadn’t recognised them as symptoms of pregnancy. Why would she when she’d believed herself to be infertile?

Instead she had been worried she might have some terrible disease. Even when her breasts had started to become sensitive she had blamed it on a possible hormonal disturbance. She’d believed she couldn’t conceive right up until the doctor’s astonished words:
‘You’re pregnant.’

But why would Jake—primed by both his own experience with women with flashing dollar signs in their eyes and the warnings of what sounded like a rabid divorce support group—believe her?

She was definitely in this on her own.

Eliza knew she would feel better if she could start making plans for her future as a single mother. Then she would feel more in control. But right now she had to track down the nearest bathroom. No wonder she had actually lost weight rather than put it on, with this morning, noon and night sickness that was plaguing her.

Party Queens was organising a party to be held in two weeks’ time—the official launch of a new business venture of Dominic’s in which Jake held a stake. No doubt she would see him there. But she would be officially on duty and could make their contact minimal. Though it would be difficult to deal with. And not just because of her pregnancy. She still sometimes woke in the night, realising she had been dreaming about Jake and full of regrets that it hadn’t worked out between them.

CHAPTER NINE

T
HE
NEARER
J
AKE
got to Dominic’s house in Sydney for the launch party, the drier his mouth and the more clammy his hands on the wheel of the European sports car he kept garaged there. Twelve weeks since he’d seen Eliza and he found himself feeling as edgy as an adolescent. Counting down the minutes until he saw her again.

The traffic lights stayed on red for too long and he drummed his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel.

For most of the time since their four-day fling in Port Douglas he’d been out of the country.
But she’d rarely been out of his mind.
Jake
didn’t like admitting to failure—but he’d failed dismally at forgetting her. From the get-go he’d had trouble accepting the finality of their fling.

The driveway up to his house in Port Douglas had never seemed so steep as that morning when he had trudged back up it after waving Eliza off on the shuttle bus. He’d pushed open his door to quiet and emptiness and a sudden, piercing regret. Her laughter had seemed to dance still on the air of the house.

No matter how much he’d told himself he was cool about the way his time had gone with her, he hadn’t been able to help but think that by protecting himself he had talked himself out of something that might have been special. Cheated himself of the chance to be with a woman who might only come along once in a lifetime.

He’d had no contact with her at all since that morning, even though Party Queens were organising this evening’s launch party.
Dominic had done all the liaising with the party planners. Of course he had—he was married to the Design Director.

By the time he reached Dominic’s house, Jake was decidedly on edge. He sensed Eliza’s presence as soon as he was ushered through the door of Dominic’s impressive mansion in the waterfront suburb of Vaucluse. Was it her scent? Or was it that his instincts were so attuned to Eliza they homed in on her even within a crowd? He heard the soft chime of her laughter even before he saw her. Excitement and anticipation stirred. Just seeing Eliza from a distance was enough to set his heart racing.

He stood at a distance after he’d found her, deep in conversation with a female journalist he recognised. This particular journalist had been the one to label Dominic—one of the most generous men Jake had ever known—with the title of ‘Millionaire Miser’.

Andie and Party Queens had organised a party on Christmas Day two years ago that had dispelled
that
reputation. Planning that party was how Andie had met Dominic. And a week after Christmas Dominic had arranged a surprise wedding for Andie. Jake had flown down from Brisbane to be best man, and that wedding was where he’d met Eliza for the first time.

Jake looked through the wall of French doors that opened out from the ballroom of Dominic’s grand Art Deco house to the lit-up garden and swimming pool beyond. He remembered his first sight of Eliza, exquisite in a flowing pale blue bridesmaid’s dress, white flowers twisted through her dark hair. She had laughed up at him as they’d shared in the conspiracy of it all: the bride had had no idea of her own upcoming nuptials.

Jake had been mesmerised by Eliza’s extraordinary blue eyes, captivated by her personality. They had chatted the whole way through the reception. He’d been separated from Fern at that stage, but still trying to revive something that had been long dead. Not wanting to admit defeat. Eliza had helped him see how pointless that was—helped him to see hope for a new future just by being Eliza.

Now she wasn’t aware that he was there, and he watched her as she chatted to the journalist, her face animated, her smile at the ready. She was so lovely—and not just in looks. He couldn’t think of another person whose company he enjoyed more than Eliza’s.
Why had he let her go?

He couldn’t bear it if he didn’t get some kind of second chance with her. He’d tried to rid himself of the notion that he was a one-woman man. After all, a billionaire bachelor was spoiled for choice. He didn’t have to hunt around to find available woman—they found
him
. Theoretically, he could date a string of them—live up to his media reputation. Since Port Douglas he’d gone out with a few women, both in Australia and on his business travels. Not one had captured his interest. None had come anywhere near Eliza.

Tonight she looked every inch the professional, but with a quirky touch to the way she was dressed that was perfectly appropriate to her career as a party planner. She wore a full-skirted black dress, with long, tight, sheer sleeves, and high-heeled black stilettos. Her hair was twisted up behind her head and finished with a flat black velvet bow. What had she called her style? Retro-inspired? He would call the way she dressed ‘ladylike’. But she was as smart and as business-savvy as any guy in a suit and necktie.

Did she feel the intensity of his gaze on her? She turned around, caught his eye. Jake smiled and nodded a greeting, not wanting to interrupt her conversation. He was shocked by her reaction. Initially a flash of delight lightened her face, only to be quickly replaced by wariness and then a conscious schooling of her features into polite indifference.

Jake felt as if he had been kicked in the gut.
Why?
They’d parted on good terms. He’d even thought he’d seen a hint of tears glistening in her eyes as she’d boarded the shuttle bus in Port Douglas. They’d both been aware that having mutual friends would mean they’d bump into each other at some stage. She must have known he would be here tonight—he was part of the proceedings.

He strode towards her, determined to find out what was going on. Dismissing him, she turned back to face the journalist. Jake paused mid-stride, astounded at her abruptness. Then it twigged. Eliza didn’t want this particular newshound sniffing around for an exclusive featuring the billionaire bachelor and the party planner.

Jake changed direction to head over to the bar.

He kept a subtle eye on Eliza. As soon as she was free he headed towards her, wanting to get her attention before anyone else beat him to it.

‘Hello,’ he said, for all the world as if they weren’t anything other than acquaintances with mutual friends. He dropped a kiss on her cool, politely offered cheek.

‘Jake,’ Eliza said.

This was Eliza the Business Director of Party Queens speaking. Not Eliza the lover, who had been so wonderfully responsive in his arms. Not Eliza his golfing buddy from Port Douglas, nor Eliza his bikini-clad companion frolicking in the pool.

‘So good that you could make it down from Brisbane,’ the Business Director said. ‘This is a momentous occasion.’

‘Indeed,’ he said.

Momentous because it was the first time they’d seen each other after their four-day fling? More likely she meant it was momentous because it was to mark the occasion not only of the first major deal of Dominic’s joint venture with the American billionaire philanthropist Walter Burton, but also the setting up the Sydney branch of Dominic’s charity, The Underground Help Centre, for homeless young people.

‘Walter Burton is here from Minnesota,’ Eliza said. ‘I believe you visited with him recently.’

‘He flew in this morning,’ he said.

Jake had every right to be talking to Eliza. He was one of the principals of the deal they were celebrating tonight. Party Queens was actually in
his
employ.

However, when that pushy journalist’s eyes narrowed with interest and her steps slowed as she walked by him and Eliza, Jake remembered she’d been in Montovia to report on the royal wedding. As best man and bridesmaid, he and Eliza had featured in a number of photo shoots and articles. If it was rumoured they’d had an affair—and that was all it had been—it would be big tabloid news.

He gritted his teeth. There was something odd here. Something else. Eliza’s reticence could not be put down just to the journalist’s presence.

Jake leaned down to murmur in her ear, breathed in her now familiar scent, sweet and intoxicating. ‘It’s good to see you. I’d like to catch up while I’m in Sydney.’

Eliza took a step back from him. ‘Sorry—not possible,’ she said. She gave an ineffectual wave to indicate the room, now starting to fill up with people. The action seemed extraordinarily lacking in Eliza’s usual energy. ‘This party is one of several that are taking up all my time.’

So what had changed? Work had always seemed to come first with Eliza. Whereas
he
was beginning to see it shouldn’t. That there should be a better balance to life.

‘I understand,’ he said. But he didn’t. ‘What about after the party? Catch up for coffee at my apartment at the wharf?’ He owned a penthouse apartment in a prestigious warehouse conversion right on the harbour in inner eastern Sydney.

Eliza’s lashes fluttered and she couldn’t meet his eyes. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said again. ‘I... I’m not in the mood for company.’

Jake was too flabbergasted to say anything. He eventually found the words. ‘You mean not in the mood for
me
?’

She lifted her chin, looked up at him. For once he couldn’t read the expression in those incredible blue eyes. Defiance? Regret?
Fear?
It both puzzled and worried him.

‘Jake, we agreed to four days only.’

The sentence sounded disconcertingly well-rehearsed. A shard of pain stabbed him at her tone.

‘We left open an option to meet again, did we not?’ He asked the question, but he thought he could predict the answer.

She put her hand on her heart and then indicated him in an open-palmed gesture that would normally have indicated togetherness. ‘Me. You. We tried it. It...it didn’t work.’

The slight stumble on her words alerted him to a shadow of what looked like despair flitting across her face.
What was going on?

‘I don’t get it.’ Jake was noted for his perseverance. He wouldn’t give up on Eliza easily.

A spark of the feisty Eliza he knew—or thought he knew—flashed through.

‘Do I have to analyse it? Isn’t it enough that I just don’t want to be with you again?’

He didn’t believe her. Not when he remembered her unguarded expression when she’d first noticed him this evening.

There was something not right here.

Or was he being arrogant in his disbelief that Eliza simply didn’t want him in her life? That the four days had proved he wasn’t what she wanted? Was he falling back into his old ways? Unable to accept that a woman he wanted no longer wanted
him
? That wanting to persevere with Eliza was the same kind of blind stubbornness that had made him hang on to a marriage in its death throes—to the ultimate misery of both him and his ex-wife? Not to mention the plummeting profit margins of his company—thankfully now restored.

‘Is there someone else?’ he asked.

A quick flash of something in her eyes made him pay close attention to her answer.

‘Someone else? No. Not really.’

‘What do you mean “not really”?’

‘Bad choice of words. There’s no other man.’

He scrutinised her face. Noticed how pale she looked, with dark shadows under her eyes and a new gauntness to her cheekbones. Her lipstick was a red slash against her pallor. More colour seemed to leach from her face as she spoke.

‘Jake. There’s no point in going over this. It’s over between us. Thank you for understanding.’ She suddenly snatched her hand to her mouth. ‘I’m afraid I have to go.’

Without another word she rushed away, heading out of the ballroom and towards the double arching stairway that was a feature of the house.

Jake was left staring after her. Dumbfounded. Stricken with a sudden aching sense of loss.

He knew he had to pull himself together as he saw Walter Burton heading for him. He pasted a smile on his face. Extended his hand in greeting.

The older man, with his silver hair and perceptive pale eyes, pumped his hand vigorously. ‘Good to see you, Jake. I’m having fun here, listening to people complain that it’s cold for June. Winter in Sydney is a joke. I’m telling them they don’t know what winter is until they visit Minnesota in February.’

‘Of course,’ Jake said.

He was trying to give Walter his full attention, but half his mind was on Eliza as he looked over the heads of the people who now surrounded him, nodded vaguely at guests he recognised.
Where had she gone?

Walter’s eyes narrowed. ‘Lady trouble?’ he observed.

‘Not really,’ Jake said. He didn’t try to deny that Eliza was his lady. Dominic and Andie had had to stage a fake engagement because of this older man’s moral stance. He found himself wishing Eliza really was his lady, with an intensity that hurt so much he nearly doubled over.

‘Don’t worry, son, it’ll pass over,’ Walter said. ‘They get that way in the first months. You know...a bit erratic. It gets better.’

Jake stared at him. ‘What do you mean?’

‘When a woman’s expecting she—’

Jake put up his hand. ‘Whoa. I don’t know where you’re going with this, Walter. Expecting? Not Eliza. She...she can’t have children.’ And Eliza certainly didn’t
look
pregnant in that gorgeous black dress.

‘Consider me wrong, then. But I’ve had six kids and twice as many grandkids.’ Walter patted his rather large nose with his index finger. ‘I’ve got an instinct for when a woman’s expecting. Sometimes I’ve known before she was even aware herself. I’d put money on it that your little lady is in the family way. I’m sorry for jumping the gun if she hasn’t told you yet.’

Reeling, Jake managed to change the subject. But Walter’s words kept dripping through his mind like the most corrosive of acids.

Had she tricked him? His fists clenched by his sides. Eliza? A scheming gold-digger? Trying to trap him with the oldest trick in the book? She had sounded so convincing when she’d told him about the burst appendix and her subsequent infertility. Was it all a lie? If so, what else had she lied about?

He felt as if everything he’d believed in was falling away from him.

Then he was hit by another, equally distressing thought. If she wasn’t pregnant, was she ill?

One thing was for sure—she was hiding something from him. And he wouldn’t be flying back to Brisbane until he found out what it was.