Baby's On The Way!. Rebecca Winters
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to take a step forward when her gaze dropped from where it had been fixed on Leo, and her brain caught up with what her eyes were hinting was wrong with the picture. The floor—where was it? She hadn’t noticed it immediately because Leo was standing on a large piece of board, but between the door and him—nothing. Well, not quite nothing. A few joists, the odd floorboard balanced across them. Otherwise, just bare earth a few inches down.
She snatched her foot back and switched to plan B. While she waited for him to finish what he was doing with the saw, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and found his number. As soon as the whine of the tool stopped, she hit Dial, hoping that he had his phone on him, and set to vibrate. It gave her the perfect excuse to look at his bottom at least—trying to see if it had started buzzing, of course.
As she watched, Leo straightened and stretched his muscles, and then reached into his back pocket. Was it her imagination, or did his shoulders tense when he lifted the phone and saw the display? Regardless, hers tensed, too—sympathy stress. When Leo wrenched off the ear protectors, she cleared her throat and he finally turned to look at her.
She tried to read his expression—in business, a degree of mind-reading came in handy. And while she hadn’t quite cracked full-on ESP yet, she’d got pretty good at reading people. So she knew that the smile was genuine—but what he was feeling was more complex than his sunny grin implied. His mouth said he was happy to see her. The line of his shoulders and slight stiffness in his arms told her he was wary. Of her? Of the baby? Was there a difference any more? They came as a package deal—literally—for the next seven or so months.
But he was still smiling at her as he walked across the room—balancing on the joists like a gymnast on a beam.
‘Hi,’ he said as he got to the door. ‘I wasn’t expecting you yet. Sorry, I thought I’d be done for the day before you got here.’ She glanced at her watch. According to her travel schedule, which she’d sent over to him yesterday, she was right on time. But perhaps it was a little early in the trip to bring that up. She remembered the way he had stiffened when he’d seen she was calling and almost flinched herself. It was hardly flattering, knowing she was the cause of such trepidation. And she had no desire to kick off with anything other than small talk just yet. She’d put in a lot of thought, time and energy over the past few days, trying to come up with a plan that would suit both of them, all three of them, for the foreseeable future. There were a few scenarios for them to choose from, but she was satisfied that between the notes on her tablet and the scenario-planning charts she’d printed and bound she’d come up with something that they could work with. All she had to do now was convince Leo of that fact, and in doing so she was going to have to tread lightly.
‘Oh, it’s fine,’ she said, trying to be breezy about the lack of flooring. ‘So...new boards?’
‘It’s kind of a work in progress,’ Leo said, glancing about him, apparently unconcerned. ‘We found some rot and had to rip the old ones out. Then I found these incredible boards at a rec yard.’
She smiled and nodded, feeling the tension in her shoulders travel down her arms until her fingers were fighting against tight fists.
‘But isn’t it a little...inconvenient—not having a floor?’
‘It’s only temporary.’ He shrugged. ‘And it’s only one room—the rest of the house is fine. Are you coming in?’
Fine? From what she’d seen from the outside, this floor was the least of her worries. But she forced herself to take a deep breath, and keep her smile stuck on a little longer.
‘Sure.’ She grabbed the handle of her suitcase and looked at the floor in anticipation, mapping out the shortest and quickest route.
‘Leave your case—I’ll grab it. Isn’t there a “no heavy lifting” clause in this pregnancy thing?’
Her eyes flicked to his face, trying to read his expression. It was the first time either of them had mentioned the baby, and his voice hadn’t exactly sounded sure, almost as if he were testing the words, not quite believing them. She didn’t answer. She couldn’t, yet. Couldn’t face up to all the uncertainties that lay ahead of them.
She set a foot on the joist by the door. A couple of steps in she started to wish she’d kicked off her shoes as she wobbled a little on her stiletto heel. But just as she started to worry that she might not get that wobble back under control, Leo’s hand grabbed hers and held her steady. A shiver spread through her body at the feel of his hand, and she squeezed it tight, suddenly feeling less steady on her feet, not more. He swung the door open in front of them and she jumped across the last gap.
As she landed, she wobbled again, and this time Leo’s arm caught her around the waist. She’d put out a hand to break the fall she’d been sure was inevitable, but instead of hitting the floor it hit solid, warm muscle. She should have snatched it back, of course. Should definitely not have stretched her fingers and pressed her palm a little tighter against him, remembering the night she had spent held against that chest, the salty taste as she’d kissed it, how she’d pressed her palms to it as she’d...
Leo’s arm tightened around her and she wondered if he was remembering, too. She looked up and found his gaze intent on her, his eyes serious and the smile gone. Her lips parted, and her body begged her to stretch up, to press her lips against his, to lose herself in his body. But her brain screamed warnings thick and fast. Caught in the middle, she wavered, leaning back slightly against Leo’s arm as she met his gaze. Over his shoulder, she caught a glance of the room they had just left—the chaos, the power tools, the almost complete lack of floor—and she took a deliberate step backwards. Her life was chaotic enough. One night with Leo had shaken up everything she thought she knew about the future and dumped it back around her. The last thing she needed at the moment was for that to happen again.
Leo gave her a long look, his expression neither regretful nor pleased, but hovering somewhere around wary. After a beat, he turned from her and strode back across the joists to rescue her case from outside. Rachel dragged her eyes from him and, determined to distract herself, took a moment to look around the room she’d landed in so inelegantly. The contrast between the front room and this kitchen couldn’t be greater. From chaos, she’d stepped into a lifestyle magazine. Sunlight spilled in through wide windows with views out towards the bay, reflecting off the polished wooden worktops. A huge table, made of boards similar to the ones Leo was laying in the next room, occupied one half of the kitchen and an enormous range cooker occupied an inglenook fireplace. Glass doors opened out onto a small garden and a staircase wound up the wall in the corner of the room. It was beautiful, and when she looked at Leo it was with admiration for more than his well-developed lats.
He arrived back at the door to the kitchen with her case slung effortlessly over his shoulder. Okay, she was still admiring the lats, she realised, that perfect diagonal of muscle between underarm and waist—and reminded herself that all her future plans for her life came with a big fat No Repeat Performance clause. If she wanted to stay on track, she had to get her ogle under control.
‘Luckily for you, the kitchen and bathrooms were finished first,’ he said with a grin.
‘This is beautiful.’ She was still slightly taken aback by the contrast of this room with the building sites she’d seen so far, but determined to stay focused. ‘Did you do all the work yourself?’
He nodded. ‘Everything I legally can—an electrician did a couple of bits, but most of it was me.’
‘You’ve done a great job.’
‘Thanks.’ He smiled and nodded, without false modesty or undue pride. ‘Can I get you anything before I go and clean myself up? Coffee? Tea?’ He glanced down at his sawdust-caked jeans and T-shirt as he spoke.
She brushed off his offer, instead getting him to point her towards coffee and mugs. When he’d disappeared up the stairs, Rachel turned to the cupboard and started on the coffee, almost squealing with delight when the tin next to the kettle turned out to contain cake and biscuits. Her eyes threatened to fill with tears—stupid hormones. But she guessed he wasn’t the type