“What? Like 1950s glamour?” Quinn imagined Bailey dressed as Audrey Hepburn, who had to be one of the sexiest women of all time. He’d always thought the resemblance between them uncanny. “That’s a brilliant idea. Mom will love that.”
“Glamour or rock ’n’ roll. There are a few different ways we could go with 1950s!”
As much as he’d liked the idea of Bailey as Audrey, rock ’n’ roll held more appeal when he thought of his family. They weren’t really the formal type. And Bailey would look just as sexy in one of those poodle skirts. “Let’s go with rock ’n’ roll.”
She nodded. “Good idea. Rock ’n’ roll costumes are easier and less expensive for people. This will be so much fun. You’ll have to grow some sideburns, but your leather jacket is pretty much perfect already.” Then suddenly her face fell. “Hey, when are Callum and...and Chelsea getting married? We’re not going to overshadow their celebrations, are we?”
To be honest, that thought hadn’t even entered Quinn’s head, but he could only imagine how uncomfortable the prospect of Callum’s upcoming nuptials must be for Bailey. She might have been the one to end the relationship, but he’d moved on so fast, and his engagement to the woman Bailey had hired to break up with him for her had surprised them all. “Nope. They’ve fixed a date for the end of May. He’s hoping the restaurant will be finished by then and they can be the distillery’s first wedding.”
“Guess they won’t be asking me to handle that event,” Bailey said wryly.
By May, Quinn realized, Bailey’s bump would be well and truly showing, and if he had his way, everyone would know the baby was his. “Might be a little awkward,” he agreed.
She sighed and Quinn wondered if she regretted losing Callum. It had to be hard for her seeing him (or, at least, hearing about him) being so happy with Chelsea just months after Bailey broke up with him. Part of Quinn wanted to ask and the other part of him didn’t want to know the answer. He knew she thought sleeping with him had been one of her less clever moments, but he didn’t regret it. He couldn’t. Sitting across from her now brought up feelings he’d been trying to ignore for years—since he was a horny teenager and she was his mom’s friend’s daughter, meaning deflowering her wasn’t an option. Not if he wanted to live to see adulthood. Sitting across from her now, he really wanted to sleep with her all over again, which just went to show his lack of scruples—the woman was lying to him by omission, for goodness’ sake, and he was here only because of the baby.
“How is the restaurant planning going?” she asked, an obvious attempt to direct the conversation elsewhere.
“Really good. Mac’s submitted the plans for building approval and is ready to start as soon as they get the go-ahead. Lachlan’s already cooking up a storm creating a new menu.”
“Those brothers of yours don’t let the grass grow when they get an idea, do they?” Bailey said with an affectionate smile.
Quinn tried to smile back, but it was clear she didn’t include him in the same category as his aspirational siblings. No wonder she didn’t think him father material. Having no idea how to respond, he was glad when Daphne arrived with their meals.
“Thanks,” they said in unison.
“You’re welcome. Shout if you need anything else.”
As Daphne left again, Quinn picked up one half of his sandwich and took a bite. It was good, but he couldn’t fully enjoy it. He glanced across at Bailey and saw that she seemed to be having similar issues. Although she’d torn off a piece of frittata with her fork, she didn’t look too keen on the idea of putting it in her mouth.
He nodded toward her plate. The frittata looked and smelled amazing, but she’d turned a little green again. “Is something wrong?”
“No.” She shoved the fork in her mouth and looked as if she might gag.
“So,” she said when she’d swallowed that mouthful, “1950s rock ’n’ roll. Do you want me to talk directly to Lachlan about the food? See what he can do in keeping with the theme?”
When he nodded, she continued. “Would you like a band or a DJ? I know a group that specializes in music from that era. They are the best, but they might be a little pricey.”
“Money isn’t an issue. I want this night to be special for Mom. Can you see if this band is available?”
She nodded and jotted down another note. “Do you still want to hire a marquee?”
“Yes, I think so. Pity the new restaurant won’t be ready in time.”
“I’ll also need a guest list for numbers. And we’ll need to work out tables and chairs and...” She continued listing off various things.
Quinn’s head spun with the decisions to be made, but he didn’t want her to think he couldn’t even handle a simple birthday party, so he attempted to keep up.
“If you have time, we can head on over to the stationers after lunch and select the invitations, or would you prefer to use the Paperless Post app?” Bailey took another sip of her soda.
“Nah, let’s do proper invitations.” He continued with his sandwich as she chattered on about other things they needed to decide on. He tried to sound enthusiastic, but he guessed that later he likely wouldn’t be able to remember half of the things they’d discussed. His head was too full of baby. Bailey pushed her food around on her plate, but he couldn’t help noticing she didn’t eat any more. He bit his tongue to stop himself from asking her how bad the morning sickness was and suggesting she try some ginger tea.
As he swallowed the last bite of his sandwich, a woman with a pram approached their table. It took a second for Quinn to recognize her, as he was so focused on the baby. He guessed it was about six months old and it had thick, dark curls framing its cute, dimpled face.
“Oh, my God,” exclaimed the woman. “Bailey Sawyer? Quinn McKinnel?”
Bailey glanced up and her eyes widened in surprise. “Cindy Lemmon! I didn’t know you were back in town.”
“And I didn’t know you and Quinn were together,” said the woman, whom he now recognized as a girl who’d been in their year at school. If he remembered rightly, she’d left town to pursue an acting career right after graduation, but he’d never seen her in anything.
“Oh, we’re not together.” Bailey sounded appalled by the idea. “We’re...” While she fumbled to explain their relationship, Quinn held out his arms and smiled at the baby as if it was the most delightful thing in the world. This couldn’t have worked out better if he’d planned it.
“That’s one gorgeous little baby you got there, Cindy. Can I hold her?”
* * *
Bailey felt her eyes goggling when Quinn took hold of the baby as if doing so were the most natural thing in the world. He smiled down at the little girl now sitting in his lap, then made a goofy face and silly noises. The baby giggled in the way that only babies could; Cindy grinned down at the sight and Bailey felt her heart clenching inside her.
“You’re so good with her,” Cindy said.
Quinn barely looked up as he shrugged one shoulder. “I love babies. I can’t wait to be a dad one day.”
Bailey almost choked on nothing. Thank God she hadn’t just taken a sip of her drink or she would surely have spurted it out all over the table at this announcement. How did fatherhood pair up with his dedicated bachelorhood?
“Since when?” she found herself asking.
He glanced over at her, his expression bemused, as if that was an utterly ridiculous question. But instead of answering it, he hit her with another one. “Don’t you want to have children?”
“Well, of course I do,” she spluttered, which was a darn good thing considering her current predicament. “I just never imagined you as the settling-down and starting-a-family type.”
Quinn didn’t reply; he merely returned his attentions to the cherub in his arms and continued to make silly baby noises. He did look very comfortable wit
h the child. Just goes to show you don’t know everything about me, Bailey Sawyer. His words of earlier repeated inside her head. She’d always thought of Quinn as an open book, but he’d surprised her twice today. Had she been too quick to think the worst of him?
“Well,” Cindy announced, leaning against the stroller and smiling down at the laughing duo, “I reckon you’ll make an awesome dad. Pity I can’t say the same about Daisy’s father.”
“Is her dad not around?” Quinn asked, his laughter fading.
Cindy sighed and flicked her long golden hair over her shoulder. “Oh, he gets around alright, but unfortunately a wife and child cramped his style, so he cut us loose. I’ve moved back home with my parents.”
“That sucks.” Quinn offered Cindy a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry, but he’s the one missing out.”
Cindy blushed a little and actually fluttered her eyelashes. “I know not all men are like him. We’ll find Mr. Right one day.”
Was she flirting with Quinn? Bailey fought the urge to tell her to back off, that Quinn couldn’t take the role of Daisy’s pseudo-father because he was going to have a biological child very soon. But it wasn’t just the baby. Bailey had to admit, if only to herself, that she didn’t like the idea of any other woman getting her claws into Quinn. Her head might not think him Mr. Right, but, after their one night together, her heart and body very much disagreed. This was why, if she wanted to protect her heart, she had to be so very careful around him.
She cleared her throat. “We’re actually working right now.” She knew she sounded rude, but being so close to Quinn had been hard enough before he started bouncing a baby on his knee. “I guess if you’re back in town we might see you round.”
“Oh, right. I’m sorry.” Cindy blinked and reached out to take Daisy.
“We should all catch up sometime,” Quinn said. “And if you ever need a babysitter, you know, while you’re out on a date or something, I’m your man.” He tapped himself on his chest.
“Right. Thanks.” Cindy smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Bailey could tell she’d rather Quinn be the date than the babysitter, whereas she would rather he stay clear of Cindy altogether.
They said their goodbyes, and as Cindy pushed the stroller away, Quinn leaned back in his seat. “That was a little rude.”
“She was all over you,” Bailey blurted, before thinking better of it.
“You’re not jealous, are you?” His eyes danced with amusement.
“Of course not,” she scoffed, her own cheeks heating. It was the closest they’d come to discussing their night together. Maybe now would be the perfect time to tell him the results of that night. If he could get so excited over an old friend’s baby, maybe she’d underestimated how he would feel about his own. About their own. Her heart quickened and she opened her mouth, but shut it again immediately.
Would telling him now be for the right reasons? She didn’t want to do so because she was jealous of his friendliness to Cindy and her baby. And it was still early days. Wasn’t the rule not to tell anyone until the three-month mark? Granted, that probably didn’t include the father, but these were extenuating circumstances.
Quinn gestured to her barely touched plate. “Are you going to eat any of that?”
She glanced down at it and her stomach churned at the thought as she pushed it away. “I’m not that hungry.” He’d already finished his sandwich and she needed some fresh air to clear her head. “Shall we head on over to the stationers?”
Quinn nodded. “Let’s do it.” He pushed back his seat, the legs of the chair scraping against the polished cement floor as he stood. She stood as well and tried not to stare as he pulled on his jacket. She contemplated asking him not to wear it anymore in her presence because it only amplified his sex appeal, which was the last thing she needed to be thinking about right now. So much for thinking that spending more time with him would dilute the attraction and tame her lust-crazed, pregnancy-affected hormones.
She swallowed and dug her wallet out of her purse.
“I’m paying,” Quinn announced, taking his own wallet from his jacket.
“But you’re my client.”
He raised one eyebrow and hit her with a look that dared her to continue with this argument. “Yes, and we need to discuss your fees, but as I haven’t paid you anything yet, getting the lunch you didn’t even eat is the least I can do.”
Bailey didn’t have the energy to argue and knew that, where Quinn was concerned, it was best to pick her battles. She let him pay and waited by the door as he did so.
“How far is this shop?” he asked a few minutes later.
“Not far at all. We may as well walk.”
He nodded and opened the door, holding it as he gestured for her to go through. She stepped past him and almost shrieked when he placed his hand in the small of her back. Her insides heated as if flicked by a match and she bit her lip, praising the Lord he couldn’t see the expression on her face. It was stupid to be so affected by a tiny brush of his hand, especially when he didn’t mean anything by it, but the problem was her body had a perfect memory. The moment he touched her, it recalled all too clearly the sparks they’d created the last time they were up close and personal, and it wanted an encore performance.
Totally flustered, Bailey walked quickly down the sidewalk, putting as much distance between them as she could. Quinn caught up and chattered casually about the weather—how they were having a particularly cold spell. Funny, right now she didn’t feel cold at all, and the last thing she wanted to talk about with him was the weather.
Finally, they arrived at her favorite little stationery shop. This time Bailey held the door open and made sure Quinn had stepped right inside before she followed. She averted her gaze so as not to be distracted by his delicious behind and then made a beeline to the preprinted invitations along one wall. The sooner they made a decision, the sooner she could escape Quinn’s tantalizing company.
“See anything you like?” She pointed to a row of sixtieth birthday invitations. “We can go with a classic sixtieth design or we could choose a fun 1950s one like this instead. We just give the printers the details of the party and they’ll have them done up specially.” The design in question had a vintage jukebox on the side and the slogan Bop Till You Drop across the top. There were others with milk shakes, poodles and swing skirts, all of which would suit their theme.
Quinn screwed up his face as if he didn’t approve of any of them and turned slowly to glance over to the other side of the store at the supplies for creating handmade cards. “I’d prefer something a little bit more unique, more personal. Know what I mean?”
“You want to make the invitations yourself?” Once again, Bailey found herself surprised and unable to hide it.
“Well, I was hoping you’d help,” he said, winking as he grabbed hold of her hand and pulled her across the room.
Oh, help me, God, she thought as electricity shot from his hand right up her arm. What on earth has gotten into him?
He paused in front of rows of card stock, paper punches, ribbons, stickers and a whole host of other cutesy things one could purchase to create a truly unique invitation. Bailey agreed that some of the samples on display were gorgeous, but did Quinn have any idea how much time and effort they’d need to put into making something like that?
He dropped her hand and picked up a tiny yellow rubber ducky. “How adorable is this?”
“Not really the image we’re going for,” she said while inwardly thinking how perfect it would be for a baby shower party or even a birth announcement. It was almost like Quinn knew, but that was impossible. Despite having eaten next to nothing, her stomach rolled at the thought.
He sighed. “You’re probably right. But those are perfect.” And then he stretched past her in his efforts to grab a handful of tiny black vinyl records, and she ca
ught a whiff of his aftershave, a woodsy, musky scent with a hint of vanilla that had always driven her wild. Even if she’d never allowed herself to admit this.
When he straightened again, he was somehow even closer. So close she could feel his breath against her face. Again, memories she’d been trying to forget were invoked and all she could think about was what he’d tasted like and how his lips had felt against hers. The skin at the back of her knees tingled at the recollection and she squeezed her legs together trying to ignore the sensations that erupted between them.
“What do you think?”
For the life of her she couldn’t work out what he was referring to. Oh, that’s right, the invitations.
Normally she could plan events and choose invitations with her eyes closed, but normally she wasn’t working alongside Quinn and harboring the biggest secret of her life.
She swallowed. “The choice is yours. It’s your party.”
He met her gaze full-on. “But I value your opinion. And I’ll need your help. You’re the creative one.”
She should tell him that she didn’t have time, that the predesigned invitations would do the job perfectly, but her mouth had a mind of its own. Somehow she found herself agreeing to spend a whole lot more time with him.
Chapter Four
On Wednesday afternoon—the day she’d arranged for Quinn to come around in the evening and work on crafting the party invitations—Bailey skived off work early and came home to have a nap.
The alarm woke her just before 6:00 p.m. and she showered and made herself presentable, having vowed never to be caught in her pajamas by him ever again. She ate a TV dinner of mac ’n’ cheese—not the healthiest option, she knew, but she didn’t have the energy to clean up after cooking. After dinner, she set out all the craft and paper supplies they’d bought and then paced up and down her living room, trying to ignore the butterflies dancing in her belly. Truthfully, they felt more like birds of prey than butterflies.
The guilt of not telling Quinn about the baby was weighing heavy on her heart. There still hadn’t been an answer to her letter in the paper, and deep down she knew this was a decision she needed to make for herself.
Pregnant by Mr. Wrong Page 5