His Pregnant Bride: Pregnant by the Greek Tycoon / His Pregnant Princess / Pregnant: Father Needed

Her family would be back then and Nicky would be safely tucked up in bed.

‘And this time I won’t be offering you anything.’

‘Tonight.’

‘I can’t,’ she began, and then saw his expression. ‘All right, tonight,’ she agreed with a sigh.

For a moment his narrowed eyes held hers, then he inclined his head. ‘It would seem we have a date.’

‘Hell,’ she loudly announced to his back, ‘will freeze over first.’ She closed the front door and leaned against it with a sigh; she was shaking. With her luck, she thought, Angolos would construe her childish retort as a challenge—that would be just like him.

And what on earth was Angolos up to? she wondered as she sank weakly to the floor. She sat there, her back wedged against the door, her knees tucked under her chin, waiting for her knees to stop shaking. For once Nicky’s need for attention came secondary; secondary to the necessity for her to be able to walk without falling over.

When she got to her feet she felt strangely numb, as though her stressed body had produced some natural anaesthetic. She didn’t want to think about how she would feel when it wore off.

Georgie went through the rest of the day on autopilot. She tried hard to conceal the anxiety that lodged like a weight behind her breastbone but as the day progressed it got increasingly difficult.

Ruth, bless her, agreed to come over later and sit with Nicky. She didn’t ask any questions and, beyond a searching look and a brief, ‘Are you all right?’ she had not asked anything about Angolos.

Georgie was grateful for her reticence. She knew if Gran had been there she would not have escaped so lightly. Her grandmother had barely managed to be civil to Angolos before they had split up. Who knew how she’d have reacted if she’d been here when he’d turned up?

Why, after years of conspicuous silence, was Angolos here? The question gnawed at her all day. It was when Nicky’s lower lip trembled after she had snapped at him over something trivial that she decided enough was enough.

By letting Angolos get to her this way she was allowing him to win. After all, it didn’t matter what he had to say, or why he was here, he wasn’t part of her life any more. Ironically it was when she stopped looking for answers that she accidentally found one.

She discovered the innocent-looking envelope when she was performing the daily ritual of picking up Nicky’s toys from the living room after he had gone to bed. She glanced incuriously at her name, and, assuming it was junk mail, aimed it at the waste-paper basket. It was only when it missed and she went to retrieve it from where it fell that she realised the paper was good quality.

She turned the envelope over. There was no stamp or postmark and it wasn’t sealed. She opened it and slid out the contents. She immediately recognised the letterhead of the law firm that Angolos used. Crazy, really, that she should feel shocked—even crazier that she had to blink back the tears. This was something she had been expecting for the past three years. It was the logical step and one that her family had frequently urged her to take.

Angolos wanted a divorce.

* * *

‘You look very nice, dear,’ Ruth commented as she walked with Georgie to the front door.

‘I’m wearing make-up,’ Georgie admitted, lifting a self-conscious hand to her lightly glossed lips.

‘Charming, but I was thinking of the dress.’

Georgie flushed, and looked down at the pale peach-coloured halter-necked dress she had finally selected. Even with her limited wardrobe it had taken her half an hour.

‘It’s too much, isn’t it?’ she fretted, smoothing the light fabric over her slender hips. ‘I knew it was. I’ll go and change.’

Ruth laughed. ‘Don’t be silly, you look lovely. Whether it’s too much rather depends on what reaction you want to get?’

‘I was aiming towards a sharp intake of breath,’ Georgie admitted.

‘Oh, I think you’ll get that. I hope you don’t mind me asking, but is there a reconciliation on the cards?’

‘I don’t mind you asking and, no, there isn’t.’

If anyone had asked her yesterday if she nursed any hope of them ever getting back together, Georgie would have been able to give a very definite no way in reply, and mean it.

Yesterday she hadn’t opened that envelope.

Reading the contents of a letter that explained with surgical precision that your husband wanted a divorce was a bad time to realise that in some secret corner of your heart you had clung onto hope. Foolish, irrational hope that one day … She took a deep breath. She knew that she was better off without that sort of hope.

‘Actually, Angolos wants a divorce.’ She had the horrid suspicion that her extremely casual attitude wasn’t fooling Ruth for a minute. ‘That’s why he’s come in person. I suspect there’s someone else.’ Maybe Sonia…? It would certainly please his family if he got back with his first wife.

If not Sonia, there would be someone. A highly sexed and incredibly good-looking man like Angolos was never going to be celibate. She had come to terms with this.

Sure you have.

‘I think it might be serious,’ she heard herself say.

Ruth’s brow furrowed. ‘Now that does surprise me.’

‘Not me; I’ve been expecting it.’ Georgie gave her best carefree smile and wished she’d not revealed her suspicions to the older woman. ‘The only thing that surprises me is it’s taken him this long. Actually I think it’ll be a good thing…making it official will give us proper closure.’

The other woman nodded and murmured agreement, but Georgie could see that she didn’t believe a word. Embarrassed, she turned away. ‘I won’t be long,’ she promised huskily.

About as long as it took to say goodbye.

CHAPTER SEVEN

ANGOLOS watched Georgie walk towards him along the beach with the graceful, long-legged stride he remembered so well. She carried her sandals in one hand slung over her shoulder in exactly the same way she always had. He was not a man inclined to nostalgia, but it was hard not to make a depressing comparison to the past.

Then, when she had caught sight of him her face would light up like a kid on Christmas morning and she would break into a run as though every second apart from him was one too many. Now when she saw him, and he recognised the precise moment, the only place she looked like running was in the opposite direction! You could almost hear her inner struggle as she covered the remaining distance.

Some irrational part of him wanted to make her smile at him that way again. Was it the same irrational part of him that had been tempted, albeit briefly, not to question her pregnancy? Then sense had prevailed and his pride had reasserted itself.

That he had contemplated, even for a moment, living a lie and bringing up another man’s child, accepting his wife’s infidelity, filled him with a profound self-disgust. Ironically of course it hadn’t been another man’s child she carried, but at the time he hadn’t known that.

‘Am I late?’ Composed and utterly controlled, she sketched a smile. Her wary eyes, their incredible colour intensified by the soft shading on her eyelids, met his.

‘No. I am early.’

Angolos didn’t have a clue why her manner annoyed him so much. It wasn’t as if he had expected her to throw her arms around his neck and press her slim young body to his.

His eyes drifted towards the slim young body in question and he grew still. The summer dress exposed the soft, creamy contours of her satin-smooth shoulders and slim arms. The locket dangling from a slim gold chain suspended around her neck drew the attention to the firm swell of her breasts. As his glance moved lower the breeze caught the light fabric, drawing it close over her slim thighs.

Georgie had been so gut-churningly nervous that until his dark eyes swept over her she had forgotten that she had dressed to kill, or at least immobilise with lust—until his heavy-lidded, penetrating eyes lifted and met hers.

She had got the reaction she wanted, only this wasn’t theoretical lust. A classic case, she remonstrated herself, of not considering the consequences. The smoky heat and raw hunger in his eyes—for a man who could be infuriatingly enigmatic, Angolos had eyes that could be quite devastatingly expressive on occasion—sent a current of sizzling heat through her body.

Experience had taught her how to fan the flames of his desire. She tried not to access the memories that reminded her of how pleasurable the results of her provocation could be. She raised a fluttering hand to her throat and tried to get her breathing under control.

‘Can we get on? I’m on my way somewhere.’ She was quite pleased with her clever subterfuge; now he wasn’t going to think she had got dressed up for him.