There never had been anyone else, she realised. This was true love—first love.
And they were going to have a baby. A little boy or girl to bring more joy and love into their lives.
She pictured a little boy who looked just like Mitch, kicking a soccer ball around with his father’s skill and talent. Or a little girl doing the same thing. A little girl with her dark hair and—
She broke the kiss ‘Mitch, one little thing...’
‘Yes?’ he said.
‘You know how you didn’t recognise me at first?’
‘It didn’t take long. You were still the same Zoe. You just looked a bit different. Your hair, your—’
‘My nose. I had a nose job when I was twenty-one. I thought I should let you know that. Just in case the baby... Well, the baby won’t inherit this expensive new nose. The old one is still there, lurking in my genes. With a horrid bump in the middle.’
Mitch laughed. He gently stroked down her nose with his finger. ‘This is a very nice nose. But I never even noticed you had a bump in it before.’
He kissed her again, deep and slow. She looked over his shoulder at that big, imposing bed. It would only take a few steps to take them there.
Mitch broke away from the kiss. His breathing was heavier, his eyes a shade darker with desire.
‘So, will you marry me, Zoe?’
She didn’t hesitate. ‘Oh, yes, Mitch. Yes.’
They kissed for a long, long time. Then Mitch started to walk her back into the bedroom.
She broke the kiss to murmur against his mouth. ‘Do you want to know what’s in my thought bubbles?’
‘Yes,’ he said.
‘No words. They’re just filled with beautiful rainbows of joy,’ she said.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The following June
ZOE LEANED FORWARD in her VIP seat in the president’s box of the Madrid stadium, where the final game of the Spanish La Liga season was being played at the home of Mitch’s club. They only needed to draw to win the league and become the champions—the most sought-after of honours.
Mitch was below on the pitch, playing the toughest and most important game of his career to a packed stadium of nearly one hundred thousand spectators.
She could only imagine how it had felt for him as he had run through the players’ tunnel onto the pitch to be greeted by the mighty collective roar of the fans. The game was being beamed worldwide by satellite to millions more fans—maybe billions.
Mitch, the only Australian, had become a star in a star-studded team. Over the course of the season that had been a test of his injured knee, he had scored ten goals in a total of twenty-seven league games—the best of his career.
But now the vast stadium was silent as, in the dying seconds of the game, her husband lined up to take the free kick that would decide the outcome of the game against his team’s closest rival.
Five of the opposition’s players had lined up to form a wall, each of them with their hands cupped over their nether regions for protection against a possible hit by the ball.
At any other time Zoe would have found that action amusing. But not now. Her fingernails were digging into her hands so hard they were drawing blood, but she didn’t notice.
All she was aware of was Mitch as he took the free kick and curled the ball up over the heads of the players in the wall and into the top corner of the net. It was a breathtaking demonstration of his skill that left the goalkeeper helpless.
Goal!
Zoe jumped up from her seat, fists pumping in the air, as she cheered for her husband. He had scored an equalising goal to clinch the title for his team. They’d won the league! Mitch’s team were now the champions—the most important title for any major club.
The crowd erupted into a deafening roar of approval.
On the large-screen monitor she saw a close-up of Mitch’s face, his expression one of triumphant ecstasy, his grin huge. He acknowledged the crowd’s cheers and pulled off his team shirt, leaving his perfectly sculpted chest bare as, arms outstretched, he ran a victory lap in only his shorts and long white socks. He looked breathtakingly handsome and the fans went delirious.
Then he was overtaken by his jubilant teammates in a great show of hugging and back-slapping that culminated in the players throwing their grinning coach above their heads in the air.
Part of the gig of being married to a soccer star was that Zoe had to share his bare chest with the world. There were internet video channels dedicated to just that—shots of Mitch with his shirt off. But she had to deal with it, knowing that while Mitch might be public property to his fans he came home to share her bed and enjoy the private family life they cherished. He had never given her cause not to trust him implicitly.
She looked down to where baby Isabella still slept in the carrycot by her feet, oblivious to her famous daddy’s triumph.
Zoe’s heart seemed to flip over with love for her daughter. Mitch called her the most beautiful baby in the world. With her mummy’s dark hair, her daddy’s green eyes and straight nose, she was very pretty. Her sweet nature and bright ways made her a joy to have in their lives. If she would just learn to sleep through the night Bella—as she was already called—would indeed be perfect.
It remained to be seen if she would grow up to be the soccer star her father predicted she would be.
In the next seat to her Amanda Bailey, Mitch’s mother, wiped away tears of pride in her youngest son. She looked dotingly on her only female grandchild.
‘The little pet didn’t stir—even with all that commotion,’ she said.
Zoe met Amanda’s eyes in a perfect communication of shared joy. From being initially wary of Zoe, Amanda had become the best mother-in-law Zoe could ever have imagined having.
Even though they had at first questioned the haste of their son’s wedding plans, Mitch’s parents had come up trumps in helping them organise the ceremony and reception at short notice.
The ceremony had been perfect—held in the small chapel of an ancient monastery just outside of Madrid. Her dress, from a leading Spanish fashion house, had been exquisite in its simplicity and style—and cleverly cut to disguise the growing presence of baby Isabella.
Zoe had hoped for an intimate reception, but with Mitch’s fame that had not been possible. But it, too, had been perfect, with all his family and friends there. Mitch had flown over a number of her friends too, as their guests.
Louise, who was doing a brilliant job of steering The Right Note to further success as a full business partner, had been among them. She had moved into the Balmain apartment and taken over Einstein’s care, as both she and Louise had agreed that he wouldn’t have been happy with a move to another country. Louise had brought with her to the wedding a card signed with Einstein’s pawprint that had made Zoe both laugh and cry.
When the time had come Amanda had insisted on flying to Madrid to be with Zoe and Mitch in the days after Isabella’s birth, to help out. In an unobtrusive, loving way she had given her the help and support Zoe knew her own mother would have given her as she, in turn, had learned to be a mother.
Amanda had flown back to Australia once Zoe was managing motherhood on her own. Now she was back to watch Mitch’s big game.
In marrying Mitch, Zoe had gained not only an adoring husband but also a warm, welcoming extended family that had filled the painful gap left by the loss of her own parents. It was an outcome she hadn’t ever dreamed of.
Now she and Amanda looked again to the monitor, to see Mitch being interviewed on the pitch by a gaggle of sports media representatives. He switched effortlessly from English to Spanish in his replies, and Zoe was pleased with herself for being able to understand the Spanish. She had fitted right into life in Madrid and could happily converse with most people.
The main commentator for one of the big sports networks was interviewing Mitch now. Her husband’s beloved face filled the screen.
‘You’ve come back from your knee injury in spectacular form,
Mitch,’ the interviewer said. ‘And I hear talk that you’ve been nominated as Footballer of the Year. Is this your greatest moment?’
Mitch looked directly into the camera. ‘Yes, it’s the greatest moment of my career,’ he said, in that deep, familiar voice. ‘But the greatest moment of my life was when my beautiful wife, Zoe, agreed to marry me, followed by the birth of our precious daughter, Isabella.’
Zoe stared at the screen long after Mitch had finished the interview. She knew he would be with her as soon as he could, and it wasn’t long before she heard murmurs among the other guests in the VIP area that let her know he was on his way.
Dressed now in his team tracksuit, and wearing a medal on a ribbon around his neck, Mitch headed towards her, politely accepting the congratulations being showered on him but making it clear that he had eyes for only one person—his wife.
He swept her into his arms and hugged her close. Cameras flashed, but Zoe didn’t care.
‘We did it,’ he said.
‘You did it. I just cheered,’ Zoe said. ‘It was your victory.’
‘It was our victory,’ Mitch corrected her. ‘I could never have done what I did this season without your love and support. Having you by my side has made all the difference. Thank you, wife.’
Mitch and his team had won the grand prize today. But Zoe knew the greatest prize of all was the love of her husband—and she had won it.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from HIS UNEXPECTED BABY BOMBSHELL by Soraya Lane.
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CHAPTER ONE
REBECCA STEWART GULPED as the door to the restaurant opened. Ben McFarlane. It had been almost four years, but she’d have known him anywhere. Dark blond hair cropped short, broad shoulders stretching the material of his T-shirt and a stare that still managed to make her heart beat too fast. He was exactly as she remembered him and then some.
“Long time no see.”
His gaze softened as he came closer, the corners of his mouth turning upward into a smile, but she could tell he was angry. Those eyes had caused her heart to break and heal all over again so many years ago, the last night they’d had together still burned into her memory as if it was yesterday. She knew every expression he had.
Rebecca swallowed, smiled back, her stomach flip-flopping. He didn’t know. Couldn’t know. That angry gaze, determined stride...she’d thought he was coming in with a purpose when she’d first recognized him. That he knew about his daughter.
She pushed those thoughts away and tried to remind herself of how they’d been before that night, back when they’d been best friends and nothing more.
“Hey, stranger,” she said. “I had no idea you were back.”
Rebecca moved out from around the counter, hands smoothing the soft cotton of her apron. She didn’t know what to do—whether to embrace him, touch him. What did you do to a man, formerly your best friend, once your lover, who you hadn’t seen or heard from in years?
“Hey.” His voice was surprisingly gruff.
Rebecca stepped into his arms when he opened them, gingerly at first, until he pulled her in, giving her an awkward kind of bear hug. She tried to relax, focusing on breathing in and out. They were just friends. But after all this time he still had that effect on her. The smell of his cologne, the strength of his body, everything about him took her back to that night, when a decade of friendship had turned into something more. The night before he’d left and she’d encouraged him to leave her behind even though it had shattered her heart into a million pieces.
“How are you, Bec? Haven’t heard from you in a while.”
Ouch. The hug must have been a formality.
She took a step back, his hands falling from her waist. It was warm but she shivered, wrapping one arm about her body, the other hanging awkwardly at her side.
“I’ve been good, Ben. Really good,” she said, forcing a big smile, avoiding the question. It wasn’t as if he’d emailed her lately, either.
“Your folks?”
Rebecca smiled. Her parents would love to know that Ben was back in town.
“They’re great.” This time she didn’t have to force the grin. “Very busy, enjoying their retirement, so I’m running this place on my own most of the time.”
She looked over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of commotion in the kitchen. When she turned back to Ben she noticed he was watching, taking everything in. He’d known her parents’ Italian restaurant just as well as she had when they were teenagers. They’d both worked waiting tables over their last summer break, before he’d had the opportunity of a lifetime and left for Argentina.
“Anyway, how about you? What brings you back?”
Ben jammed both hands into his jeans pockets, eyes down before he looked up and met her stare. She knew something was wrong. Why was he even back here?
“Has something happened to your grandfather?” Rebecca heard the falter in her own voice.
“He’s not doing great, even though he’d hate me telling you that.” He squared his shoulders and pushed his feet out wider. “It was time to come home anyway. I’ve done my time overseas, for now.”
“Really? It’s not like you were getting too old to play.” She ran her eyes over his superfit frame. He was all muscle, all athlete. It wasn’t like polo players had a use-by date, so long as they were still performing, and she’d never expected him to give up his career voluntarily. Not for anything.
That made him laugh. “I’m not too old, and I’m fit as hell, so don’t go feeling sorry for me.” His voice was dry. “I just decided I’d been away for long enough, and Gus needs the help. Argentina was fun, but I missed the old fella.”
Oh. She tried to digest his words. It sent a cold streak down her spine. “So you’re back for good?”
“Yeah, for the time being, anyway,” he said. “If you’d been better at emailing me back, I might have given you a heads-up.”
Ouch again. “Ben, I just got busy and there was so much happening. I’m sorry.” She knew it sounded like a cop-out, and it was. But he hadn’t emailed for a long time, so it wasn’t all her fault.
He looked up, gave her a long, hard stare before training his eyes past her head.
“So tell me, how long have you been back? What are your plans?” she asked.
“I’m just playing it by ear. I’ll see how it goes, how much I can do around the farm.”
Rebecca tried not to react, digested the information as if it meant nothing to her. Polo had always been his life, his dream to play as a career, and now he’d just given it up like that? As if it wasn’t the single most important thing to him after years of being desperate to make it happen?
“So that’s it. You’re just not going to play anymore?” she asked.
A shrug of his shoulders told her he was uncertain. Ben always pushed them up, then hunched them when he was uncomfortable.
“Things change, Bec. You know how it is.”
Yeah, she did. Only she was pretty certain that he hadn’t just had a change of heart—something else had to be going on. If he was doing it for Gus, she completely understood, but she smelled a rat.
“Anyway, I’ve only just arrived back in. I’m still going to be training horses, I’m just taking time out from playing.” He smiled. “I’m heading for Geelo
ng in the morning.”
Rebecca turned and walked back toward the counter, trying to ignore the rising heat in her cheeks. Her pulse had started hammering hard at her temple. Geelong. The place where his grandfather’s horse training establishment was. The place she’d spent every school vacation and weekend, hanging out with Ben and dreaming about their future. Only she hadn’t realized how much of a man’s sport polo was—she’d ended up bravely waving Ben off while she stayed behind. It had been tough for him to make it, and even tougher for her to try to make a career out of it. But they’d only been friends, it wasn’t as if he’d left his girlfriend behind.
“My granddad turned eighty last week, and I know the cancer’s probably worse than he’s letting on. I’m heading there to learn everything I can and slowly take the reins from him. Excuse the pun.”
“He must be so happy to have you back,” Rebecca said, refusing to think about what-ifs just because Ben was back in town and standing before her. It wouldn’t have mattered if he’d stayed or not, they’d both wanted different things, and their one night together had been the result of too much to drink. He hadn’t owed her anything. She took a deep breath. “You’re going to love being home.”
He smiled, but his eyes told a different story. He was annoyed with her, and she didn’t know what to say to him except sorry for not staying in touch. But she hadn’t been able to keep emailing him and not mention what was going on in her life, which meant that losing contact with him had been the only option. She’d always sworn that if he came back she’d tell him, but the guys he played polo with had become his family, he’d always said he loved what he did and wouldn’t give it up for anything.
“It was what we always talked about, huh? The two of us playing polo overseas then coming back to run a horse stud together.”
“Yeah,” she said softly, not wanting to go back in time because thinking about the past only hurt. “Yeah, it was.”
“But, anyway, tell me about you? I heard a terrible rumor yesterday that you have a daughter.” He chuckled. “Is it true?”
From Paradise...to Pregnant! Page 16