From Paradise...to Pregnant!. Kandy Shepherd

hotel manager explain the ramifications of the earth tremor.

      Mitch had been to Bali before, and knew small tremors like this weren’t uncommon. He’d appreciated the manager’s well-meant reassurances. But still, he’d asked the question about the tsunami because it didn’t pay to ignore possible danger. Mitch was the kind of guy who liked to anticipate and prepare for the next move—‘reading the play’, they called it in soccer. There was a prominent sign on the beach warning people what to do if there was a tsunami warning. Therefore he’d needed to ask about it.

      At his second enquiry the girl in the towel had turned briefly, to see who was asking the scary questions. Recognition had flashed just briefly before she had hastily turned back round.

      He was used to that these days. Strangers recognised him as being an international soccer player. Or from the endorsements for designer menswear and upscale watches he’d posed for—the advertisements were on billboards even here in Bali. This woman might be a young mum who wanted him to sign her child’s soccer ball. Or a fan with much more than signing on her mind.

      He narrowed his eyes. The thing was, she had also seemed familiar to him. Her eyes had only caught his for a split second but there had been something about the expression in them—anxious, in a pale, drawn face—that had tugged at his memory. He’d met so many people over the last years, but he couldn’t place her. He’d dredged his memory with no luck.

      But then she’d hotfooted it away from the group of guests. He’d admired her shapely behind, swaying in that tightly drawn towel as she’d headed for the pathway that led to the private villas. Once she was gone he’d probably never see her again, and would be left wondering who she could possibly have been.

      Then he’d noticed the slight, almost imperceptible limp as she’d favoured her right leg. It was enough to trigger memories of a girl he’d known for a short time in high school.

      ‘Zoe!’ he’d called.

      She’d paused for a moment, her shoulders set rigidly. Then continued to walk away.

      Now he pushed his way to the edge of the row of people and took a few strides towards her to catch up.

      ‘Zoe Summers?’ he asked, raising his voice.

      This time she stopped and turned to face him. For a long moment their gazes met. Mitch was shocked to realise she had recognised him and yet had chosen to walk away. He was swept by conflicting feelings—the most predominant being shame. It was what he deserved after the way he’d treated her all those years ago.

      ‘Mitch Bailey,’ she said, head tilted, no trace of a welcoming smile. ‘After all this time.’

      ‘I knew it was you,’ he said.

      Her expression told him a kiss on the cheek, a hug, even a handshake would not be welcome. He kept his hands to his sides.

      She looked much the same. More grown-up, of course. But the same sharp, intelligent face. The same black hair—only shorter now, and all tousled around her face. The piercings she’d sported so defiantly at school had gone, leaving tiny telltale holes along the top of her right eyebrow and in her nose, and there was just one pair of discreet gold studs in her ears instead of multiple hoops.

      There was something indefinably different about her. Perhaps it was her air of assuredness. He didn’t remember that. Back then she’d emanated a miasma of misery that had made other adolescents uncomfortable around her. The ‘keep away’ glower hadn’t helped either. He’d considered himself privileged to have discovered the amazing person behind it all. Until he’d blown their friendship.

      ‘I didn’t think you’d recognise me,’ she said.

      He’d forgotten what an appealing voice she had: mellow, slightly husky.

      ‘You mean you hoped I wouldn’t.’ He’d intended his words to sound light-hearted, but they came out flat.

      She shrugged. ‘I didn’t say that. It’s been years.’

      He swallowed uncomfortably. ‘Strange way to meet again. In an earthquake.’

      ‘A “tremor” the management called it,’ she said with a wry twist to her lips. ‘Playing it down so as not to freak out the tourists.’

      ‘Whatever name you give it, it scared the daylights out of me.’

      She reacted with a raising of her perfectly shaped black eyebrows. ‘Me too,’ she said, with the shadow of a smile. ‘I thought my end had come. Still think it’s a possibility.’

      ‘Where were you when the quake struck?’

      ‘Having a body massage down at the spa.’

      Where she must have been naked. So that was why she had only a towel wrapped around her.

      Mitch willed his eyes to stay above her neck. Before today he’d only ever seen Zoe in a shapeless school uniform. He hadn’t taken much notice of her body back then—it was her brain that had interested him. Besides, he’d had a girlfriend. Now he realised what great shape Zoe was in—in her own quiet way she was hot.

      ‘Where were you when it hit?’ she asked.

      ‘Just about to dive into my lap pool. Then I noticed the surface of the water shimmering, which was kind of weird.’

      ‘That must have been scary.’ She shuddered as she spoke.

      ‘Yeah. It was.’

      ‘So much for relaxing in a tropical paradise,’ she said, with a bravado that didn’t hide the shadow of unease in her eyes.

      She clutched her towel tighter to her. Mitch refused to let himself imagine what might happen if it slid off.

      An awkward silence fell between them. Zoe was the first to break it. ‘I’m going to head back to my villa,’ she said.

      ‘How about I come with you? Who knows what we’ll find when we get back to our rooms.’

      Her response was more of a cynical twist than a smile, but it was nonetheless attractive. ‘Thank you, but I don’t need a big strong man to protect me. I’m quite capable of looking after myself.’

      ‘I’m sure you are,’ he said. ‘But I... Well, I don’t really want to be on my own if we get any aftershocks.’

      He wasn’t afraid to admit to vulnerability. Just never on a football pitch.

      ‘Oh,’ she said.

      For the first time she seemed flustered.

      ‘You’re not...you’re not with someone?’

      ‘You mean a girlfriend? No. What about you? Are you on your own?’

      ‘Yes,’ she said, with no further explanation.

      He glanced down at her hand. No wedding ring. Though that didn’t necessarily mean no man in her life. ‘I’d like to catch up, Zoe. Find out what you’ve been doing in the last ten years.’

      She paused. ‘I don’t need to ask what you’ve done since we last met,’ she said. ‘You’re quite the sporting hero. The media loves you.’

      He shrugged. ‘Yeah... That... Don’t believe everything they dish up about me. But seriously, Zoe, I’d really like to spend some time with you.’

      * * *

      Zoe looked up at him and her heart gave a flip of awareness. Mitch Bailey. Still the same: so handsome, so unselfconscious, standing before her in just a pair of swim shorts that did nothing to hide the athletic perfection of his body. So full of the innate confidence that came with the knowledge that he had always been liked, admired, wanted. So sure she’d want to spend time with him.

      And she’d be lying to herself if she said she didn’t.

      He was the best-looking man she’d ever met. Had been then—still was now. She couldn’t deny