Her Pregnancy Bombshell

by Liz Fielding

  “Annabelle just phoned me.” His gaze didn’t quite reach Elena’s. “And I just needed to tell you.” He paused as though considering his words. “I guess if I’d been thinking straight, I should have realized your mother would tell you.”

  Elena reached out and briefly squeezed his hand. “I’m glad you’re the one who told me.”

  “You are?”

  She nodded. “I’m so sorry this happened to you and your family. I hope the murderer’s capture will help in some small way.”

  “Me, too.”

  There was something different about him. Instead of the usual cool aloofness that he wore like armor, he was uneasy, and there was a glimmer of vulnerability in his blue-gray eyes. Had he come here for yet another reason?

  Refusing to let herself imagine that Luca was ready to become a part of her life again, she busied herself. She bent over and slipped on a pair of bright white tennis shoes with pink laces. Now that her makeup had been wiped away and the glittery, gauzy creations had been returned to the clothes rack, she felt like herself. Plain old Elena.

  When she straightened, she found Luca staring at her. Her heart thump-thumped. She swallowed hard. “What is it?”

  “Nothing. I was just looking at you.”

  Worried that she’d missed removing some of the sparkly blue eye makeup they used to make her up as a fairy for the new magical fashion line, Elena turned to the mirror. She didn’t see anything but her own complexion. Her cheeks were a little rosy from the cleanser, but it was all her in the reflection. So why had Luca been looking at her so strangely? She shrugged it off.

  “Can I persuade you to stay long enough to eat?” She hadn’t eaten a bite all day. She’d been a nervous wreck about the show, and now that it was over, she was ravenous. “Or we could get one of your favorite pizzas from Pierre’s and take it back to my flat.”

  “Your flat?” Luca shook his head. “Not going to happen. I hear you have some exciting news.” He moved to the end of her makeup table and retrieved a champagne bottle. “We have to celebrate. It’s nonnegotiable.”

  She wasn’t sure either of them was up for celebrating. Before she could vocalize her protest, Luca popped the cork and Elena watched as pink bubbles rushed down the side of the bottle. Luca reached for a champagne flute and filled it up.

  “For you.” He held the glass out to her.

  She accepted it. Luca was certainly acting out of character. Her gaze lowered to the glass as the pink bubbles rose and popped. If Luca and the designer of the line Elena now represented only knew of the mess she’d made of her private life, they wouldn’t help her celebrate being chosen as the new face of the Lauren Renard line.

  Elena felt like a fraud. They all thought she was so good—so deserving. But she was none of those things. Her judgment was way off where men were concerned. She’d been too trusting—too open—and in the end, she’d been lied to in the worst way. Now she didn’t trust herself or men.

  “Elena?”

  She glanced up. Her gaze met Luca’s. Tears suddenly rushed to her eyes. She blinked repeatedly, refusing to unleash the turbulent emotions that had been threatening all day.

  “Hey, none of that.” Luca raised his glass. “This is a moment for celebrating.”

  Elena forced a smile to her lips and lifted her glass.

  Luca held his glass close to hers. “To the most amazing, wonderful tomboy I’ve ever known. And I might add that you clean up pretty good, too.”

  Her mouth gaped as their glasses clinked together. “That’s not fair. I haven’t been a tomboy since we were kids.”

  His eyes studied her. “I have one question for you.”

  “You can ask it, but I reserve the right not to answer.” A nervous shiver rolled through her stomach. Had he heard about her romantic debacle? She groaned inwardly before taking another drink of champagne—a much bigger drink.

  “When did you become so beautiful?” Luca’s gaze caressed her, leaving her insides aflutter.

  Heat rushed to her cheeks. “Be careful, Luca. If I didn’t know better, I might think you were flirting with me.”

  “I am.”

  Her heart lodged in her throat. What had come over him? Luca was a constant flirt, but always with every other woman in the room. And now she didn’t know how to react to him.

  Luca grabbed the champagne and refilled their glasses. “Drink up. I’m taking you out on the town tonight. I’m going to show off the hottest lady in Paris.”

  He thought she was hot?

  Maybe he was referring to the blush that had engulfed her face. She resisted the urge to fan herself. Instead, she gulped another mouthful of bubbly.

  Luca was far too sexy, and he was saying all the right things to sneak right past her meticulously laid defenses. If she wasn’t careful, this evening was going to blow up in her face.

  She swallowed hard. “But I’m tired—”

  “Trust me. What I have in mind will wake you right up.” He winked at her.

  Her heart skipped a beat. She didn’t know what to say. Instead she busied herself with another sip of champagne. As the alcohol hit her empty stomach, she realized that it wasn’t her wisest idea and set aside the glass. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

  “Of course it’s a big deal. It’s a huge deal.” He smiled at her like he had something in mind. He’d been giving her that look since they were kids playing in the fields of wildflowers on the palace grounds in Mirraccino, and she knew it meant he had mischief on his mind. “We have to celebrate. And I have the perfect idea.”

  Why did it suddenly feel like Luca’s reaction to her new role for the world-renowned Lauren Renard line was over the top? After all, Luca was an earl. He was royalty, for goodness’ sake. His father was the Duke of Halencia. And Luca’s mother had been the sister of the King of Mirraccino. Elena knew that her accomplishments didn’t come close to stacking up to Luca’s impressive lineage.

  “Luca, it’s really not that big of a deal.” Heat rushed to her cheeks.

  “Quit being so modest. You worked hard for this.” He walked over to her and put his arm over her shoulders. “I’m proud of you. Just wait until my sister hears about this. In fact, she was just asking about you.”

  “She was?” When he nodded, Elena said, “Tell her I said hi.”

  “I will. Right after I tell her about you being world famous and the face of her favorite clothing line.”

  In truth, being the face of such a renowned line was truly a turning point in Elena’s career. She wouldn’t just have her face on the middle pages of a magazine. She would now dominate the covers. Her calendar would be filled with photo sessions. Finally, she was no longer just the daughter of the King of Mirraccino’s secretary or the tomboy who followed Luca all around the palace grounds and played football with him until long after the sun set. She was now a successful international model—for however long it lasted.

  “But after your news, I’d really understand if you didn’t want to make a big deal of it.”

  “Indulge me,” Luca said.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means while you were taking your final stroll down the catwalk, I was on the phone.”

  “And? You were finding out the location of the next hot party?” She had no doubt there were parties with so many notable people in town this week for the line reveal, but that just wasn’t her scene.

  “There’s only one party on my mind.” He looked at her rather intently.

  Her heart raced. “Luca, when did you become so mysterious?”

  “Mysterious?” There was a glint of mischievousness reflected in his eyes. “I’ve been accused of a lot of things, but never that.”

  “Well, then out with it. What plans did you make?”

  “Trust me. You’ll find out soon enough.”

  She moved to retrieve her purse and turned back to say something when his lips landed on hers. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Her heart jumped into her throat. So why was
n’t Luca pulling away? Why wasn’t she?

  Maybe if she had held still just a moment longer, his kiss would have landed on her cheek. Yeah, that was probably it. But now that they were in this awkward situation, neither moved. Could he hear the pounding of her heart?

  Over the years, she’d wondered what it’d be like to feel Luca’s mouth pressed to hers. But she’d never, ever thought that it would actually happen.

  And then his lips moved over hers, tentatively and slowly, as though figuring out where they went from here. Her pulse raced, and any rational thoughts slipped out of reach. At last, her dream was coming true.

  Her purse slipped from her hand as she reached out to him. Her fingers slid beneath his gray sports jacket to the black T-shirt beneath. As her palms slid over the defined contours of his chest, a moan swelled in the back of her throat.

  Oh, yeah… This kiss—this moment—was so much better than she’d ever imagined. She definitely approved of this change in Luca.

  His arms wrapped around her, pulling her close. Need, wonderment and eagerness consumed her. The rush of emotions was more intoxicating than the bubbly they’d just shared.

  As their kiss intensified, his tongue slipped past her compliant lips. She leaned in closer, pressing the length of her body against his. If this was a dream, she didn’t want to wake up.

  A whistle followed by applause from the stage crew had her reluctantly pulling away. She wasn’t sure what she expected to find when she gazed into Luca’s face. Perhaps disappointment or regret, but instead he was smiling at her. It was one of those smiles that made his eyes twinkle.

  “Are you ready to go?” Luca whispered into her ear, sending goose bumps racing down over her body.

  “Um…yes.”

  “Good. I want to make this a very special evening for you.”

  It was already special. That kiss had been so unexpected and so much better than she’d ever imagined. This was a different side of Luca, and she liked it—she liked him—a lot.

  After retrieving her purse from the floor, she slipped her hand into his and they rushed out the door. She refused to second-guess this decision. It was her one chance to be something so much more than Luca’s friend.

  At last, he’d seen her as a desirable woman.

  Copyright © 2017 by Jennifer F. Stroka

  ISBN-13: 9781488014932

  Her Pregnancy Bombshell

  Copyright © 2017 by Liz Fielding

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