From Paradise...to Pregnant!

by Kandy Shepherd

  * * *

  Luna Park was chaotic and fun. It was the perfect distraction from the hollow feeling of loss Zoe felt at the thought of Mitch flying back to Madrid the next day. Her spirits had lifted as soon as she was surrounded by the bright lights, music and carnival atmosphere.

  Set right on the harbour, surrounded by some of the most expensive real estate in Australia, the old-fashioned fun fair operated in the evenings during school vacations despite the protests of its well-heeled neighbours. Zoe supported its right to be there—the Sydney icon had existed since 1935, built on land that had been the construction site for the building of the Sydney Harbour Bridge.

  For many older Sydney-siders the place was loaded with nostalgia. Zoe’s maternal grandmother had brought her here a few times by ferry when she was a little girl—it was one of her only memories of her as she had died when Zoe was seven.

  She sometimes wondered how different her life would have been if that grandmother had been alive when her parents had died and she had been put into her care.

  Once through the entrance, she and Mitch were surrounded by rides and sideshows on both sides.

  She looked around and laughed. ‘Just watching the rides is making me feel dizzy.’

  ‘They’re fast and furious, all right,’ said Mitch. ‘What do you want to ride first? The Wild Mouse rollercoaster?’

  What had she got herself into? Zoe pretend to cower, but her fear was real. ‘Uh...I’m actually terrified of it.’

  Mitch couldn’t mask his disappointment. He looked longingly upwards to where the brightly painted carriages rattled at great speed along the tracks. Excited squeals and shrieks rang out every time a carriage swung around.

  ‘I didn’t take you for such a wimp, Zoe,’ he said, but the way his eyes crinkled and he squeezed her hand let her know he was teasing.

  She looked up at him. ‘I have a confession to make. When it comes to rides I am a wimp. When I’m on something like the Wild Mouse, screaming, it’s not from excitement but from genuine fear.’

  ‘You have to be kidding me?’ he said, raising his expressive eyebrows. ‘A fun fair is all about exhilaration and terror and regretting that last hot dog you ate. Why did you bring me here if you weren’t prepared for the screaming? Does that mean we don’t even get to go on the Hair Raiser?’

  He waved his arm towards a ride where strapped-in riders were raised up high in the sky, only to be plummeted back to earth at a frightening pace, screaming all the way.

  To Zoe’s eyes it was terrifying. She pulled a repentant face. ‘Sorry. You wouldn’t get me up on that thing in a million years. It would be an amazing view of the city, up so high, but I’d have my eyes tightly shut and wouldn’t see a thing. I’d forgotten how scary these rides are.’

  ‘So we’re only going on girly rides, are we? Don’t expect me to ride with you on that wussy carousel.’ Mitch glowered, but ruined the effect with a smile that insisted on breaking through his frown.

  ‘Actually, I rather like those pretty ponies. Sure you wouldn’t join me on one? Safe and sedate—just how I like it.’

  Safe and sedate? There was nothing safe or sedate about the way she felt about Mitch...

  Mitch crossed his arms across his chest. ‘No to the painted ponies. You will never, ever get me on one of those things.’

  ‘I love the giant slides. Or I could challenge you on the dodgem cars?’

  ‘Now you’re talking,’ he said.

  They only had to wait a few minutes for the next dodgem session. Zoe liked the way Mitch wasn’t the least bit self-conscious about lining up with a crowd of mainly teenagers. Looking around her, she saw she wasn’t the only woman in a dressy dress and heels.

  ‘Shall we share a car?’ she asked as they got ready to run and claim one.

  ‘I want one of my own,’ he said.

  Once Zoe was strapped into her bumper car and the music started she stepped on the accelerator too hard—and crashed her rubber bumpers straight into Mitch’s car.

  ‘Gotcha!’ she called, smiling.

  ‘A challenge?’ he said, assuming a racing driver’s position behind the wheel, his expression deadly serious. ‘We’re talking professional, here. I drive to win.’

  ‘You’re on,’ she said. ‘I drive to destroy.’

  As they took to the circuit and thumped and bumped their electric cars into each other, and the surrounding cars, Zoe started to laugh. By the time the session came to an end she was paralysed by giggles.

  Mitch helped her out of her car. ‘That was so much fun,’ she said as her giggles subsided.

  ‘You were determined to thrash me,’ he said.

  ‘And I did,’ she said.

  ‘I would dispute that. I counted the bumps and I came out ahead.’

  ‘Oh, really?’ she challenged. ‘How many bumps?’

  ‘I was five more than you. Do you concede defeat?’ he said, grinning.

  ‘I wasn’t counting, so I have to believe you,’ she said, narrowing her eyes in mock anger.

  ‘That said, I’ll allow that you were a worthy opponent.’

  ‘I just wish I’d thought to count the bumps—I’m sure I came out on top.’

  ‘I enjoyed it,’ he said. ‘Kids’ stuff, but fun.’

  ‘The thing is,’ she said, ‘I don’t think I ever acted that childish when I was a child.’ She tucked her arm through his. ‘C’mon—let’s try another ride.’

  They wandered through the fun fair until Zoe stopped at the Laughing Clowns sideshow.

  ‘I was so scared of these things when I was little,’ she said.

  A row of motorised vintage clown heads with open mouths moved from side to side, ready for people to throw small balls in the hope of winning a prize.

  ‘You seem so fearless, Zoe, and yet you have all these hidden fears,’ Mitch said.

  He rested his hand on the back of her neck and the casual contact sent shivers of awareness coursing through her.

  ‘Not so hidden,’ she said. ‘Lots of people are frightened of clowns. There’s even a name for it—coulrophobia. I still don’t like them.’

  He leaned in closer. ‘What else are you frightened of, Zoe?’ he asked in an undertone.

  Of falling in love with you and getting my heart pulverised, she thought, but she would never put voice to that.

  She forced her voice to sound unconcerned. ‘Earthquakes, of course. But we’ve been there—done that. Nothing much else—what about you?’ she said. ‘Snakes? Spiders? Sharks?’

  He shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t go out of my way to encounter any of those, but I’m not scared of them.’ He paused. ‘I...I fear failure.’

  She stared at him, too surprised at his admission to speak. ‘But you’re so successful,’ she said eventually.

  ‘You’re only as good as your last game,’ he said. ‘Failure on the world stage isn’t a pretty thing.’

  ‘So if you don’t come back fighting this season, with your knee fixed, you’ll consider it failure?’

  He stilled and went silent, and Zoe sensed his thoughts had turned inwards.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, after a long pause.

  The single word was a full-stop to the thought and she knew there was nothing further to be said.

  Mitch looked at the clowns, challenge in his stance. ‘I’m not scared of these things. I’m going to beat ’em,’ he said with confident arrogance. His eyes narrowed as he assessed the clowns’ state of play before taking out his wallet.

  The young guy behind the counter explained that Mitch needed to get five balls into the clowns’ mouths—each clown varying in points scored. Mitch paid for and took the balls. Then he focussed his gaze, took aim and, one at a time, shot all five balls into the gaping mouths of the clowns.

  Zoe clapped her hands together, doing a little dance of excitement. ‘Well done!’

  ‘Not bad,’ said Mitch, with studied nonchalance.

  It was nothing—absolutely nothing—compared to his achievements in soccer,
but she was there with him and that made it special to her.

  Would she ever be able to come to Luna Park again without him? There would be memories everywhere.

  The sideshow attendant handed over a bright blue teddy bear as Mitch’s prize. But Mitch pointed to a little white stuffed dog, wearing a miniature Aussie-style hat.

  ‘That one, please,’ he said. He turned to Zoe and handed it to her. ‘For you,’ he said. ‘To remember what fun we’ve had this night.’

  Zoe took the toy and clutched it to her, ridiculously pleased. Unwelcome tears stung her eyes. She swallowed against a sudden lump in her throat. ‘Th...thank you. It’s very cute.’

  Did he have to remind her how fleeting their time together was?

  Before Mitch had a chance to say anything more, a thirty-something man who had been standing behind them, waiting his turn for the clowns, turned to Mitch. ‘That was awesome, mate.’

  Mitch nodded in acknowledgement of the praise. ‘Focus is what it takes,’ he said.

  Zoe could see recognition dawn in the man’s eyes before a big grin split his face.

  ‘As Mitch Bailey knows only too well!’ he said. ‘Mitch, you’re meant to be in Spain.’

  He reeled off an impressive list of European fixtures in which Mitch’s team was scheduled to play. Then he pulled out a crumpled flyer for a restaurant.

  ‘Can I get your autograph?’

  Mitch obligingly autographed the piece of paper, then shook the man’s hand. As the man walked away he looked back over his shoulder to Mitch several times, grinning. Zoe didn’t have to be able to read his thought bubbles to understand the man’s delight in having met his idol.

  The full weight of Mitch’s responsibilities to his fans seemed to settle on her shoulders. She began to comprehend his determination that nothing could come between his return to top form. Not her. Not any woman. But she refused to let it suppress her spirits.

  Tonight was hers.

  * * *

  Mitch looked down at Zoe. Her face was flushed, and strands of her dark hair had come loose from its severe style to waft around her face. Laughter still curved the corners of her mouth and her eyes shone.

  He reached out and smoothed the errant hair back into place. He had never wanted her more.

  ‘Thank you,’ she murmured. ‘I must look a mess.’

  ‘You could never look a mess,’ he said. ‘You look like a woman who’s faced a mighty dodgem battle and won through.’

  She was breathtaking. Attractive, yes, but also vibrant, smart and straightforward. Zoe Summers was unlike any other woman he’d met.

  Something deep inside him seemed to turn over as he looked into her eyes. When they’d been battling with so much fun, intent on the dodgem car circuit, he’d been struck by how effortlessly they got on together. There were no games, no pretence. It had taken him back to their water fight in the pool in Bali—how much he’d enjoyed that too. And that was on top of how superlatively they’d got on in bed.

  It struck him what it was that drew him so strongly to her—she grounded him. He knew she didn’t give a toss about his money or fame. She’d been on his side when they were teenagers. He firmly believed she was on his side now. He could be himself with her, in a way he couldn’t with anyone else outside his family.

  Her idea to come to Luna Park had been inspired. She’d relaxed, and so had he. He could think of no other place he’d rather be right now than here with her.

  Not even Madrid.

  That was a dangerous thought.

  He had to block it.

  If he wasn’t careful this woman could change his life. And he did not want to deviate from the path he had set himself.

  All he had with Zoe was tonight. He’d better remember that.

  ‘Time to go?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘We can drive to a coffee shop.’

  ‘Or have coffee at my house?’ she said.

  Coffee or something more? He just wanted to spend time with her, no matter how it might end up.

  ‘Great idea,’ he said.

  ‘Let’s go, then,’ she said. ‘Before more of your fans realise Mitch Bailey is in town.’

  He took her hand and led her out of Luna Park, striding so fast she had to ask him to slow down, breathlessly reminding him that she was wearing high heels.

  He slowed his pace on the steep stairs up to the narrow street where he’d parked the car. Then, in the shadows the streetlights did not illuminate, at last he kissed her—fiercely, possessively—and she kissed him back with equal fervour.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ZOE DIDN’T EVEN MENTION coffee when they got back to her place. Mitch didn’t give her the chance to. He made sure she scarcely had time to draw breath between urgent, drugging kisses. He was too conscious of the hours, the minutes, the seconds ticking by until he had to say goodbye to her.

  She didn’t protest. Laughing, breathless, she took him—stumbling as they tried to walk and kiss at the same time—through the reception area, where he’d waited for her that morning, past an office and into a large living room. She fumbled with light switches, missing half of them with unsteady fingers, so they could see where they were going.

  Between kisses he registered that the room was all industrial chic, with soaring ceilings, open beams, rough old brickwork and wide hardwood floors. Further through was another living area with sleek modern furniture. Open metal stairs led to a mezzanine that Mitch assumed was her bedroom. The east-facing wall comprised floor-to-ceiling industrial windows that framed a night-time view across Mort Bay to Goat Island.

  But he was too busy feasting his eyes on Zoe to bother with the view, no matter how spectacular.

  Still kissing, they landed on the white sofa, laughing as their limbs tangled and tripped them. A large slumbering tabby cat yowled its protest at their occupation of its sofa and shot off towards the kitchen.

  Mitch found the zipper of Zoe’s purple dress and tugged it down over the smooth skin of her shoulders. Her scent filled his nostrils: warm, womanly, arousing. Her curves, soft and lovely, moulded to his chest, her thighs pressed to his. At last. This was what he had been wanting for two long months. Zoe. There had been no other woman in between.

  He shrugged off his jacket as she divested him of his tie and fumbled with fingers that weren’t steady at the small buttons on his shirt.

  A pulse throbbed at the base of her neck and he bent his head to press a kiss there. She clutched at his shoulders with a murmur of pleasure deep in her throat that sent his senses into overdrive. He broke the kiss. Pulled back. Her eyes were unfocused with passion, her mouth swollen from his kisses.

  ‘Zoe, are you sure?’

  * * *

  All Zoe could think of was how much she wanted Mitch. Her heart was frantically doing cartwheels; her body was pulsing with desire. He was irresistible. And she didn’t want to resist him for a moment longer.

  Just one more time. Please. Just one more time with this once-in-a-lifetime man.

  She was going into this with eyes wide open, not prompted by fear or anything other than the overwhelming need to have Mitch with her while she had the chance. One last time.

  ‘I’m very sure,’ she murmured, not even wanting to waste a minute on words when she could be touching instead of talking.

  She wound her arms around his neck to kiss him again, parted her lips for his mouth, his tongue, and felt the slide of her dress over her hips as it fell to the floor.

  * * *

  Zoe awoke several hours later. Somehow she was up in her mezzanine bedroom. How...?

  She blinked to bring herself to full consciousness. Memories of Mitch carrying her up the stairs to the bed after they’d made love on the sofa filtered through. They’d made love again and she’d fallen asleep in his arms, her head pillowed on his chest, feeling the thud, thud, thud of his heartbeat reverberate through her being as she’d swallowed the words she’d longed to utter: I love you, Mitch. Don’t leave me, Mitch.

/>   Now she was alone in the bed and she could hear him softly padding around the room. His clothes must be downstairs. She should get up. Go down with him. Watch him as he dressed to leave her and go back to his life that had no room for her. But she couldn’t expose herself to that particular form of torture. Instead she drew her knees to her chest and curled her naked self into the tiniest ball possible.

  ‘Zoe? Are you awake?’

  She heard his hoarse whisper but she was too weary for words. For platitudes. For promises made in the aftermath of passion and not likely to be kept.

  ‘Mmm...’ she murmured, pretending to be asleep.

  She felt him stand over the bed. ‘I have to go back to my parents’ house, Zoe, to pick up my stuff, say goodbye to them. But I’ll call around to see you on the way to the airport—around ten. We can say goodbye properly, swap contact details.’

  He waited for her answer.

  ‘Okay,’ she murmured, hoping she sounded convincingly sleepy.

  But when he leaned over to kiss her on the cheek she lost it. Lost all dignity, lost all pride and clung wordlessly to him until he gently unwound her arms and lowered her back onto the bed.

  ‘See you in a few hours,’ he whispered, kissing her again before he left.

  She held herself rigid in the bed as she listened to him move around downstairs, heard his footsteps walk through the office, the quiet slam of the door closing behind him, the sound of his car disrupting the stillness of the night.

  After he’d gone Zoe lay there for a long time, unable to sleep, her thoughts churning round and round. She couldn’t deal with this. Couldn’t allow herself to be picked up and put down at a man’s whim.

  She wasn’t a cool girl—could never be a cool girl able to handle a casual relationship with aplomb. Underneath her stylish clothes and smart haircut she was still Zoe the nerd who longed to be loved.

  She didn’t want to engage in some battle of the sexes scenario. But it did appear that men were able to make love to a woman—make it seem special and memorable—and then walk away without a backward glance.

  As Mitch had done to her in Bali. And had just done again. And she, to save her pride, her heart, had pretended that it didn’t hurt.