Suddenly Expecting. Paula RoeЧитать онлайн книгу.
son of Italian immigrants, raised in Australia until a talent scout had recruited him for the French futball league at the tender age of sixteen. Marco, the dreamy Italian with romantic eyes and glorious touch-me hair. If that wasn’t enough of an unfair advantage, he’d also acquired a hot French accent from his years living and working in Marseille and Paris. Marco, her best friend.
Her heart contracted then expanded again, and she wanted to die from the sudden ache of it all.
They’d known each other for nearly twenty years. Telling him would irrevocably change everything. Marco didn’t do commitment. He loved his job, he loved women and he loved the freedom to enjoy both. And there was no way she’d lose him as her best friend after one foolish—amazing—night. She couldn’t.
With a deep breath she continued, heading straight for her car. And the closer she got, the worse the weird feeling grew.
They’d done things—intimate things. Things she’d never imagined doing with him. They’d gotten naked, and he’d touched her and kissed her all over. Now he wanted to talk about it, and she’d rather swim with a pod of sharks than rehash her supreme stupidity that involved that night.
God, could it get any worse? With false bravado, she clicked off her car alarm and then crossed the last few meters to open the door.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, resisting the urge to lay a hand on her belly. Instead, she tossed her bag into the passenger seat.
“We need to talk.” His unique voice—a sexy mix of French and faint Italian accents—never failed to make her shiver, but now she shoved her hair back behind her ear and steeled herself to face him. The bright security lights slashed across his face, revealing a serious expression that made her heart thump. But instead of giving in to the panic, she swallowed and crossed her arms, tilting her head.
“About?”
“We can talk on my boat.”
She sighed. “Look, Marco, it’s late and there’s a cyclone approaching. Can’t this wait another day?”
“You’ve been avoiding my calls, so no. And the storm’s not due for hours yet.”
He glanced up at the dark sky and narrowed his eyes at the barely discernible wind that had picked up.
“I’m tired.”
He stared at her, irritated. “Phone calls. Avoiding.”
She blinked slowly. “You’re not going to give up until I agree, are you?”
“Non.”
She sighed. “Fine. But be quick about it.”
He eased off her car, moving into her personal space, and instinctively Kat took a step back, which only prompted him to frown. “You’re not going to stand me up, are you?”
“No, I am not. Girl Guide’s honor.”
“Good.” With a firm nod, he walked past her, got in his car and drove off.
She watched his taillights blink as he turned left out of the parking lot before she had time to fully comprehend what her acquiescence really meant.
We need to talk. Those four little words lay heavy with meaning, conjuring up a multitude of awkward scenarios from her disastrous past. Ten weeks ago, they’d not only crossed that line between friends and lovers, they’d burned it to the ground, and part of her wanted to run home and hide under the bedcovers. The other part wanted this awkward situation over and done with.
With a sigh she got in her car, fired up the engine and drove out of the car park. She couldn’t run from him forever. It was time to suck it up and face whatever consequences that one night had wrought.
* * *
The marina was alive with activity, crowded with people securing their boats and belongings in preparation for the oncoming storm. Kat parked and headed down the wooden platform, eyeing the foreboding water as the dark waves lapped against the jetty. In a few hours’ time, a category-four cyclone would sweep across the coast, and everyone knew all too well the devastation it would bring. The city had only just managed to recover after Cyclone Yasi had slammed into North Queensland some years before.
Marco’s boat was moored at the end, a sleek, shiny thing he’d gone into great loving detail about when he’d first bought it. The only thing she remembered from that conversation was not the horsepower, the dimensions or the fuel consumption, but rather his little-kid excitement. It had made her heart flip then, as it did now when she recalled the three-year-old memories.
He stood on the deck and offered his hand as she stepped across the gangplank. Without thinking she took it.
It was weird—she’d held his hand a thousand times before, and yet right now this one simple gesture was making her jittery, as though her whole body had been put on alert and was awaiting the next eager move.
Which was stupid. Ridiculous. And highly inconvenient.
Dammit, that was what came with sleeping with your bestie. Because now she couldn’t stop the memories of those same hands roaming all over her body and doing things that had gotten her all hot and panting.
As they walked aft, she managed to surreptitiously slip her hand from his, avoiding his sideways glance by determinedly staring straight ahead.
God, she hated this awkwardness. They’d gone and done the unthinkable and ruined everything, and for a second, she felt that indescribable pain slice into her heart, leaving a deep and wounding scar in its wake. Things would never be the same again. It was like one of her disastrous relationships all over again, like everything her father had blurted out that one awful time in the heat of argument.
For God’s sake, Kat, can you just for once not be front-page news? Stop with all the attention and drama and just be a normal person?
The shame burned briefly as she recalled his expression, a bitter twist of anger and disappointment. Then her thoughts were interrupted by the familiar hum and throb of engines as they entered the cabin.
She stopped in her tracks. “Are you casting off?”
“Oui. We’re going to the island.”
She gaped. Annoyance quickly morphed into fury. “Are you out of your mind? No!” She strode outside but it was too late. Furious, she whirled, pinning him with dagger eyes. “I didn’t agree to this! And there’s a cyclone on its way, in case you haven’t noticed.” She threw an arm wide, indicating the dock rapidly disappearing. “The town’s in lockdown. And my car is at the marina.”
He crossed his arms and leaned back onto the rail, then absently pushed back a curl as the wind whipped his hair around his face. “First, my house on the island is designed to withstand weather extremes, cyclones included. It’s probably safer than most places on the mainland. Second, I’ll call someone to pick up your car. And third, the reports say the island will only catch the edge of it—the eye will hit Cairns after 3:00 a.m.”
“And by that time, we won’t be able to return for God knows how long. No. Go back, Marco.”
“No.”
She growled. “I hate it when you get pushy.”
His mouth quirked briefly but he said nothing. She continued to glare, putting all her anger into it, but he merely held her gaze calmly.
“You’ve been avoiding my calls,” he finally said.
With a frustrated growl she whirled, planting her hands wide apart on the railing. “Dammit, you can be sooooo annoying!”
“Says the woman who still hasn’t told me she’s pregnant.”
A moment passed, a moment in which Kat’s heart sped up, then slowed down again as she closed her eyes and dropped her gaze to the churning black water below. A moment in which those meager rehearsed words all crumbled to ashes in her mouth, and she was left with nothing but the sound