The Child They Didn't Expect. Yvonne Lindsay

begin to get excited about the task ahead.

      This was the first time she had carte blanche to create everything from the floorboards up. Usually clients had pretty strong ideas already about what they wanted by the time they came to her, so it was a little odd that the parents didn’t seem to have any preferences. But, she rationalized, if the baby was scheduled to remain in the hospital for another few days then he was likely premature. The parents might have thought they’d have more time to make a final decision. And now, maybe they were simply too busy with their new arrival to want to even think about such matters.

      She wondered what business the baby’s parents were in that they could afford both to live out here and to commission a job that would command a very high figure from Best for Baby. Well, whatever they did, Ali was committed to providing an exemplary nursery. Her GPS alerted her to the turnoff coming ahead and Ali slowed her car to take a right into the driveway. At the entrance she announced herself to the console and drove through as the verdigris iron gates gracefully swung open.

      The driveway itself was long, more like a private road, she thought as she drove along it. Cows grazed in fields on either side of the gentle rise and she caught a glimpse of a couple of ponds with a few ducks floating happily on the surface. This really was idyllic. The child who grew up here would be lucky, indeed. The driveway curved up the rise to reveal the home she was visiting. It was difficult not to feel a pang of envy for the owners of the beautiful property that spread out before her. Constructed with a steeply sloping gray slate roof, the cream-toned brick house was both imposing and graciously subtle at the same time. She’d barely noticed it from the roadside, and yet from up here, it magnificently commanded an uninterrupted sweeping view right out over the Waitemata Harbor and out to the Hauraki Gulf.

      Get with the program, she reminded herself as she parked her car near the front door. You’re not here to admire the scenery. You’re here to do a job. She gathered her things and got out of her car. An uncharacteristically nervous tremor passed through her at the prospect of meeting her new clients. Ali chalked it up to the unusual circumstances of the job as she rang the doorbell and then stood waiting in the portico, looking out at the expansive rural scene that spread before her.

      Normally she’d have met with her clients at least twice before coming to their home. She liked to gauge how well they’d work together through preliminary meetings at her office before any contracts were signed. In a couple of cases, she’d even refused contracts because she’d known she wouldn’t be able to get along with the people involved. This was such a personal business, everyone needed to be on the same page from the get-go. Would she get along with this couple? She hoped so. Her imagination fired to life as she waited, the natural setting and water beyond it already stimulating ideas for the nursery. It would be profoundly disappointing, and not just from a financial perspective, if she found she couldn’t work with these clients.

      Hearing the front door open behind her, she turned with a smile on her face. A smile that instantly froze in place as her eyes and her brain identified the person framed in the imposing entrance in front of her. As she recognized the stubbly jaw, the spikey dark blond hair, the intense blue gaze.

      Ronin Marshall. Her one-night lover.

      The last man on earth she’d ever expected, or now wanted, to see again.

       Two

      Ronin did a swift double take before his brain and his mouth kicked into gear.

      “Ali?”

      He’d heard the voice on the intercom at the gate but he’d been distracted, not really listening. Ali stood before him looking as poleaxed as he himself felt, but she seemed to gather herself together a moment later. Dressed in a salmon-pink rolled-collar blouse and pale gray pencil skirt, she was the epitome of professional chic. The color of her blouse did amazing things to her gently sun-kissed skin and made the soft gray-blue of her eyes stand out. Strange, he hadn’t noticed what color her eyes were. Well, not so strange when he considered they’d met at night and most of what they’d done together after that had been by candlelight or no light at all.

      “There must be some mistake,” she said hesitantly. “You contracted our services?”

      “Yes. Well, technically, my P.A. organized it.”

      “But you want a nursery,” she stated.

      “Yes, yes. Please, come in.” He stepped back and gestured for her to enter the foyer. “I had no idea it would be you,” he said involuntarily.

      “Does that make a difference?” Ali asked pointedly, almost with a hint of challenge.

      There was a light in her eyes that implied she was angry about something. It confused him. What on earth did she have to be so mad about?

      “Of course not. I’m sure you’re very good at your job. I just never expected to see you again. I tried to leave a message for you at the hotel, but you’d already checked out.”

      She raised one perfectly plucked brow in response. It was clear she didn’t believe him. He sighed. Believe him or not, they’d have to put their feelings aside. They had a job to do, and he badly needed her help.

      The funeral that morning had been harrowing and his emotions were still raw, his thoughts uncommonly scattered. Seeing Ali here, in his home, compounded that confusion. It’d been a hell of a day so far and, judging by the expression on Ali’s face, it wasn’t going to get better any time soon.

      “Look,” he said. “I owe you an apology. Can we please start again?”

      He put out his hand. She hesitated a moment before grasping it. The second she did, he was instantly struck by that jolt of awareness he’d felt the first time he’d met her. Despite everything that had transpired since he’d left her bed, the connection between them remained. He wanted to cling to it, to her. The notion was both atypical of him and utterly compelling at the same time.

      “Please don’t worry,” she said. She pulled free of his clasp with a jerk. “Now, shall we get down to business?”

      “Business.” He nodded. So that was how she wanted to play it. To act like they’d never met before. To pretend that they’d never touched or kissed. That he had never been buried so deep inside her body that he’d begun to lose all sense of himself, instead reveling in her glory. Was it really possible for her to forget all that? He knew full well it wouldn’t be possible for him.

      If he hadn’t seen the telltale flush of color that bloomed at the opening of her blouse when they’d shaken hands, he might have thought she’d been unmoved by their physical contact. But that hint of color, that evidence of the heat that had burned between them, told him far more than her demeanor. He was the king of compartmentalizing things. Of course he could play it her way. That didn’t mean he’d like it.

      “Come this way.” He led her over the foyer’s parquet flooring and turned right down a short hall. He gestured for her to go ahead of him into the slightly less formal living room, where he spent much of his leisure time while at home. “Please, take a seat. Can I get you something? Tea, coffee? A cool drink?”

      “Just water, thank you,” she said as she settled herself into one of the comfortable fabric-covered chairs arranged conversationally around the large wooden coffee table.

      It only took a moment to grab a bottle of mineral water from the fridge and a couple of tumblers. He returned to the living room and poured water for each of them.

      “I appreciate you being able to come out at such short notice.”

      “We pride ourselves on our service, Mr. Marshall,” she said primly as she unfolded the cover from a tablet. A light touch of her fingertip and he saw the device come to life, much like he had not so very long ago beneath that very same touch.

      “Ronin,” he corrected.

      They’d been intimate together—so deeply intimate. They might be