Mistresses: The Consequences Of Desire. Оливия Гейтс

her chances of conceiving naturally were probably remote, and getting remoter by the second—she had referred her to a specialist. Plus she and Ruby had discussed the feasibility of other options, when and if she found a life partner.

      The good news was, after her wild night with Coop, there was every reason to be a lot more cheerful about her prospects when it came to relationships. Or at least sexual relationships.

      Coop.

      Her stomach clutched and released, the queasiness returning.

      Maybe it was about time she admitted that her fertility problems weren’t the only thing that had had her down in the dumps? That her nervous stomach wasn’t just a symptom of her stress over the test results she’d got from Myra two months ago, but also her ridiculous overreaction to her one night with Cooper Delaney.

      Somehow, she’d got fixated on him, picking over every minute detail of their day and night together—instead of assigning the experience to its rightful place in her past, and moving on with her real life.

      So what if he’d disappeared the following morning, without leaving a note to say where he’d gone? They’d had a one-night fling. He’d owed her nothing. They lived thousands of miles apart, and he was only twenty-eight, for goodness’ sake. Not that their age difference had bothered him... Then again, maybe it had, more than he’d let on. Could that be why he’d disappeared so abruptly? Before she’d even woken up? Without bothering to say goodbye?

      She folded the oven mitt she’d used into the drawer and slammed it shut.

      Stop right there, you’re doing it again.

      The hollow feeling of inadequacy opened up in her stomach, and the weary ache in her chest pinched her heart.

      Maybe if she had left him a note...

      She sighed and glanced up to see Ruby and Cal standing together on the pavement outside the shop—bidding each other goodbye as they did every morning before Cal headed for the tube station and his work as a top defence barrister in the City. The hollow weight became a gaping hole as she watched them.

      Ruby threw her head back and laughed at something her husband had said. Callum said something else, that seemed to make her laugh more, but then he gripped the lapels of her coat and jerked her up onto her tiptoes, before silencing the laughter with a hungry kiss.

      Ella felt the nasty dart of envy as Ruby’s arms wrapped around Cal’s neck to pull him closer. The kiss heated to scorching, Cal’s hands finding Ruby’s bottom beneath the hem of her coat. Anyone passing by would have mistaken them for newlyweds, instead of a couple who had recently celebrated their seventh wedding anniversary and had three very energetic children ranging in age from two to six.

      Ella dropped her chin, and concentrated on rearranging the cookies on the display, feeling like a Peeping Tom as the nausea pitched and rolled in her belly. The doorbell tinkled, then the creak of the café door opened and slammed shut followed by the click of Ruby’s stilettos on the tiled floor.

      ‘Sorry I’m late. I’ll close up today to make up for it.’ Ruby’s voice sounded upbeat and pleasantly mellow, as it often did first thing in the morning. Ella frowned, dusting icing sugar over the tarts. Hard to remember now that her business partner had once been the biggest grump on the planet until she’d downed at least two cups of coffee in the morning, but that was before her fender bender with Callum Westmore nearly eight years ago.

      ‘That man sweet-talked me back into bed,’ Ruby added with a huff. ‘After Helga picked up the kids.’

      ‘Poor you,’ Ella muttered under her breath, then bit her lip to contain the sour note of sarcasm, and the bile rising up her throat.

      What was the matter with her? She’d always been so happy for Ruby and Cal. It wasn’t as if their path to true love had exactly been smooth. And as for Max and Ally and Art, Ruby and Cal’s three irrepressible children, she adored them. And adored having a special place in their lives as their favourite ‘auntie’. That relationship would only become more treasured if the possibility of a childless future became a reality.

      ‘Ella, is everything okay?’

      She put down the icing sugar to find Ruby watching her. Far too closely. Oh, no. Had she just heard that cutting remark? How was she supposed to explain it? ‘Yes, of course...’

      ‘Are you sure? You’re a rather strange colour.’

      ‘Really, I’m perfectly—’ The gag reflex struck without warning, punching Ella’s larynx and slamming her stomach into her throat. She slapped her hand over her mouth, and raced around the counter and into the restroom—getting there just in time to lose in the toilet the tea and dry toast she’d managed to force down that morning for breakfast.

      * * *

      ‘Okay, deep breaths.’ Ruby rubbed Ella’s spine as the nausea retreated. The cool cloth felt glorious on the back of her neck as she dragged in several deep breaths.

      ‘How’s your stomach? All finished puking?’

      ‘Yes, I think so.’ Ella pressed her hand to her belly to double-check. But her stomach seemed to have settled after the retching, the strong scent of the disinfectant in the toilet nowhere near as abrasive as the brownie scent had been earlier.

      Ruby flushed the toilet and anchored her arm around Ella’s waist. ‘Good, then let’s get you more comfortable.’

      By the time they’d both settled in the two armchairs at the back of the café, Ruby’s careful scrutiny had Ella’s cheeks burning.

      ‘Any idea what caused it?’ Ruby asked.

      Ella took a moment to examine the hands she had clasped in her lap.

      ‘From that delightful shade of rosé on your cheeks I’m guessing you do know.’ Ruby’s hand covered hers and squeezed. ‘But you don’t want to say.’

      ‘It’s silly.’ Ella shrugged, forced to face her friend. ‘I’m totally overreacting to a stupid holiday fling—which didn’t mean anything.’

      ‘Of course it meant something. You wouldn’t have slept with him if it didn’t. You’re not the casual-sex type.’

      Ella breathed a heavy sigh. ‘Kind of annoying that I didn’t figure that out before I decided to jump into bed with him for a night of casual sex, isn’t it?’ The clutching sensation in her chest was back with a vengeance. ‘I miss him. I wish I’d hung around to tell him goodbye properly. Got closure. Then maybe I could stop giving myself an ulcer thinking about him constantly.’

      Ruby nodded, her expression far too intuitive. ‘All excellent points. But can I suggest another possible explanation for the puking?’

      Ella frowned. Why was Ruby looking at her like that? As if she was struggling to suppress a smile. ‘There is no other—’

      ‘Because you’re no more the highly strung, give-yourself-an-ulcer type than you are the casual-sex type.’

      ‘Your point?’ Ella replied a little sharply.

      ‘Look, you’ve been stressing about your holiday fling for weeks, I know that. But isn’t it at all possible—given the extremely hot description you gave me of your bedroom aerobics with Captain Studly—that what we just witnessed might be something more substantial than a nervous tummy?’

      ‘Such as?’

      ‘Morning sickness.’

      Ella stiffened. ‘You know that’s not possible.’

      ‘According to Dr Patel it isn’t impossible.’

      Ella’s frown became a scowl. ‘It’s only a very slight possibility. And we used condoms the whole time.’

      ‘As did Cal and I before we got pregnant with Arturo,’ Ruby shot straight back.

      ‘It’s not the same thing.’ The sour note was back.