A Baby on Her Christmas List by Louisa George Read Free Book Online

jumped to get it. Failed. Jumped again. Then she playfully poked him in the stomach so he flinched. ‘Ouch!’
    ‘Yes! Got it.’
    He grabbed her arms and pulled her into a hug. Tickled her ribs until she yelped for mercy. Felt the soft heat of her breath on his skin. The way she moulded into him. Warm. ‘Play fair.’
    ‘Says the man with elastic arms. You have a natural advantage.’
    ‘And you...’
    Grinning and breathless, she pulled away, but not before he’d got a noseful of her flowery scent. She smelt like everything good. Everything fresh and vibrant and new. Something spiralled through him. A keening need. Rippling to his heart, where it wrapped itself into a ball of content, then lower to his groin, where content rapidly turned into a fiery need.
    He let her go as his world shifted slightly. This could not be happening.
    She sat back down, pink-cheeked but smiling. ‘Actually, I thought I’d rip up the carpet in the spare room and see what’s underneath. I’m hoping it’s going to be one of those miracle moments—
Ooh, look, the last owner covered a perfectly intact parquet floor
—like on the DIY TV shows. But somehow I doubt it.’
    ‘So do I. You’ll be lucky if there’s a decent layer of concrete there. Thinking about your dilapidated house makes me laugh. Either that or I’d cry. It needs serious work.’ And thinking about something tangible and solid made a lot more sense than thinking about the searing lusty reaction he’d just had that had thrown him way off kilter. ‘Don’t get your hopes up. I’ve seen that old scabby carpet. The walls. The roof. My guess is that the previous owners only spent time covering up just how badly falling down the place was.’
    ‘Aw, you know it was all I could afford. And it’s a nice neighbourhood, good school zone, so will be worth a lot more by the time I’ve finished. Worst house on the best street and all that. And the roof is sound, it just needs some TLC.’ She pouted a little and his gaze zeroed in on her mouth. Plump lips. Slightly parted. The tiniest glisten of moisture. He leaned over and dabbed a drop of ketchup away from her bottom lip. His thumb brushed against warmth. And his body overreacted again in some kind of total body heat swamp, accompanied by a strange tachycardia that knocked hard against his rib cage. The beach seemed to go fuzzy out of his peripheral vision as she blinked up at him, surprised by the sudden contact. Her lips parted a fraction more and if he leaned in he could have placed his over them.
    And now he was seriously losing his mind.
    Clearly he needed to get laid and quickly. With someone else.
    Georgie moved away, frowning. She might have said his name. He didn’t know. He willed his breathing back to normal.
    Where were they?
Oh, yes. The house. For God’s sake, he needed to get up and go. This was crazy. This irrational pointless need thrumming through his veins. Crazy and sudden and he didn’t know what the hell he was doing any more. Or where this had come from. But he wished it would go as suddenly as it arrived. ‘It’ll be great when you’re done. Lots of potential.’
    ‘So you said when I bought it. But now I’ve got to capitalise on that. I’ve chosen some paint. I thought a soft cream would be nice and I’ll add colour with blinds and cushions, nursery furniture. I saw a great changing table in a second-hand shop down the road from work—all it needs is a lick of paint, I’m not going to be one of those mums who—’
    ‘A bit early for nesting, surely?’ He gathered all the wrappers up then stood, offering his hand to pull her up.
    She threw him a look filled with hurt, brushed her clothes down and reached for her bag. ‘Well, I’ve got to start somewhere. Nine months flies by, believe me. I see it all the time at work—people often don’t even come up with a name in that time.’
    Ignoring his hand, she stood without help and looked out at the ocean. Her shoulders taut, back rigid.