Married For Their Miracle Baby

“You’re not from here, are you?” he asked, moving closer and standing beside her, gazing down at the city as she glanced at him.

“Is my accent still that obvious?” Saffron frowned. She’d lived in New York for almost ten years now, since she was sixteen, and to her own ears she sounded more like a local than a girl from a small town in Kentucky.

“It’s just a little twang every now and again. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but...” Blake laughed. “Small town?”

Saffy gave him a stare she hoped looked evil before bursting out laughing. “A little place called Maysville, in Kentucky. But I haven’t even been back in—” she sighed “—forever. You can take the girl out of the small town, but not the town out of the girl, right?”

Blake leaned against the railing and stared at her, his smile slow and steady as it spread across his face. She should have shrunk away from his stare, from his attention, but instead she bravely faced him. All the years she’d focused on her career, dancing from her childhood through her teens and then through almost all her twenties, she hadn’t had time for boyfriends. But flirting with Blake felt good, and it wasn’t as if she had anywhere else she needed to be or anything else she should be doing.

“So what’s a girl from Maysville doing in New York?” he asked.

Saffy raised her glass and took a sip, wondering how much or little to tell him. “It’s a long story.”

His grin was infectious, the way it lit up his dark eyes and made a crease form at each side of his mouth. The man was gorgeous, textbook handsome with his dark hair and even darker features, his golden skin sexy against the white of his shirt.

“It just so happens,” he said in his deep, raspy voice, “that I have all night.”

“I’d rather hear about you,” Saffy said, clearing her throat and trying not to become lost in his stare, hypnotized by his gold-flecked dark eyes.

“I’m guessing you want to open up about yourself about as much as I like talking about myself,” Blake said with a chuckle.

Saffron raised her glass again, realizing she was drinking way more than usual. She was usually too busy training to drink or socialize. Unless it had been with other dancers, she’d hardly seen anyone else, and she’d had to be so careful with her calorie count and her energy levels to waste on alcohol. She felt good tonight, though—alive and buzzing, even if it was due to the champagne and the smooth talker charming her.

“How about we agree to no personal questions then? I don’t want to talk about work or my life,” she admitted. She’d lived her work all her life as a ballerina, but every night she flexed her leg, only to be rewarded by ongoing shoots of pain, and she was reminded of what had happened. How little time she had left in the city she loved, and how quickly her dream had ended.

“It just so happens that I don’t want to talk about work, either,” Blake said. “Want to go somewhere less...” His voice trailed off.

“Dull?” she suggested.

“Yeah, dull,” he agreed, knocking back the rest of his champagne. “I hate these kinds of parties.”

“I always thought it would be incredible to be asked to amazing parties, rubbing shoulders with the city’s elite,” Saffron admitted. “But I quickly realized that the part I liked was getting all dressed up. The parties weren’t exactly as amazing as they looked from the outside once I’d attended a few.”

“So you’d rather be somewhere more fun?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Ah, yes. I guess you could say that.”

Saffron passed Blake her glass, not bothering to drink any more. She liked to stay in control, and if she was going somewhere with a man she hardly knew, she wasn’t going to get drunk. Blake took it, turning his back for a moment as he found somewhere to leave them. She quickly pulled out her phone to text Claire.

Hey, you did great tonight. I’m heading out with the guy who bought your painting! If you haven’t heard from me in the morning...

Saffy grinned as she hit Send. Claire would flip out, or maybe she’d just cheer her on. Her friend was always telling her to have more fun and stop taking life so seriously, but she wasn’t the one in danger of having to pack her bags and go back to Maysville if she didn’t get her job back. Saffron was serious because her job had demanded it, and she’d been happy to make it her life.

Her phone pinged back almost instantly.

Have fun. I’ll track him down if I need to. xoxo

“Shall we go?”

Saffron put her phone back into her purse. “Sure thing.”

Blake held out his arm and she slipped her hand through, laughing to herself about how absurd the evening had turned out. She wasn’t the girl who went on dates with strangers or disappeared with men and left her friends at a party. But nothing about the past month had gone according to plan, so she had nothing to lose.

“Do you like dancing?” Blake asked as they walked around the back of the crowd. He was leading her around the room, and she could feel eyes on them. Either because they were leaving too early or because of who he was. Or maybe she was just being overly sensitive and imagining it.

Dancing. When in her life hadn’t she loved dancing? “Sometimes.” If her leg didn’t hurt like hell when she tried to dance, she’d love to.

“I was hoping you were going to say no.”

Saffron laughed. This guy was hilarious. “It’s a no. For tonight, anyway.”

“Then why don’t we go back to my place?” He must have seen the hesitation written all over her face, because he stopped walking and stared down at her. “Sorry, that came out all wrong.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to...” Saffron actually didn’t know what she thought, but she wasn’t about to jump into bed with him. Maybe that’s what he was used to? She hoped she hadn’t read the situation wrong.

“I just meant that if we don’t want to dance and we’re bored here, it might be nice to just chill with a drink. Or we could find a nice quiet bar somewhere. It wasn’t supposed to sound like that.”

Saffy looked deep into his dark eyes, didn’t see a flicker of anything that alarmed her. “Why should I trust you?” she asked.

He cleared his throat. “United States Army Officer Blake Goldsmith,” Blake said, giving her a quick salute. “One of the only things I’m good at in life is keeping people safe, and that’s about the only good reason I can give you.”

She was more shocked that he was an officer than the fact he’d asked her back to his place so fast. “You’re in the army?”

“Was.” Blake grimaced. “So much for not talking about my work life, huh? But yeah, you can trust me.”

Saffron knew that just because he was a former officer didn’t make him trustworthy on its own, but she wasn’t actually worried about Blake. She felt as though she could take him at face value. What worried her was how he was making her feel, how desperate she suddenly was to know what it was like to meet a man and go home with him. Not that she could actually go through with a one-night stand, but the thought was making her tingle all over.

“So what do you say?” Blake asked. “I have a car waiting, so we can either jump in and head to my place or duck into a nearby bar.”

Saffron passed a number over and collected her coat, snuggling into it before they stepped out into the chilly night air. On the balcony she’d been so busy admiring the view that she’d hardly noticed it, but now she was feeling the cold.

“Yours,” she finally said. “It had better be warm, though.”

Blake was holding a black scarf, and he tucked it around her neck, his hand falling to her back as they walked. “I promise.”

She walked until he pointed out a black town car, and within seconds he was opening the door for her and ushering her inside.

“Tell me—how does a former soldier end up at a glitzy charity gala with a plush town car at his beck and call?” she asked, curious.

“Goldsmith Air,” Blake said, pulling the door shut as he slid in beside her, his thigh hard to hers. “Family business, one I tried to steer clear of but somehow ended up right in the thick of.”

Saffron knew what that felt like. “Sorry, I know we promised no work questions.”

They only seemed to travel for a few blocks before they were outside a pretty brick building that looked old but had been renovated and kept immaculate. A huge glass frontage showed off a contemporary-looking café inside, the lights still on but the signs pulled in. She guessed he lived upstairs.

“So this is your local coffee place?” Saffron asked.

“I wake up to the smell of their coffee brewing, and by eight I’ve usually ordered my second cup for the day.”