Forbidden Secrets: His Secret Baby Bombshell. Michelle Celmer

not bedridden. I can make myself something to eat.”

      “I’m sure you can, but I’m here.” Graham stepped back when Eve swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Stubborn, aren’t you?”

      Even with her red-rimmed eyes and pink-tipped nose, her smile was like a kick to his chest.

      “A trait we both possess. Sounds like we’ll have a strong-willed child.”

      Graham smiled. The idea of his child being strong, independent and a go-getter was absolutely perfect. A healthy combination of mother and father...he’d never given it much thought, but their child would be a perfect Newport.

      Eve got to her feet and attempted to readjust her hair. Finally, she jerked the ponytail holder out and gathered up the fallen strands. In a flash, she had the mass of hair piled back atop her head.

      “You don’t have to stay,” she told him. “I’m just going to make a quick sandwich and go to bed.”

      “You’re trying so hard to get me out of here.” He tipped her chin up and stepped in closer, so close the heat from her body warmed him. “I’m going to make sure you eat and then I’m going to make sure you’re all settled in. We’ll make small talk—we may even share a laugh. We can talk about the weather or we can talk about the baby. Up to you. But I’m not leaving, Eve. I’m going to be here, so you better get used to it.”

      “Is that a threat?” she asked with a soft smile.

      He kissed her, hard, fast, then released her. “It’s a promise.”

       Nine

      Eve rolled over in bed, glanced at the clock and closed her eyes again.

      Wait. She jerked up in bed and stared at the glaring numbers. How did it get to be so late? Sleeping in had never been an issue for her. She always showed up before anyone else and got a jump start on her day. At this rate, she was never going to make it into the office on time.

      The sudden jolt of movement had her morning sickness hitting her fast. She rushed to the en suite bathroom and fell to her knees.

      She’d had worse mornings, but still, she didn’t like this feeling one bit. How could she remain professional if she was showing up late and looking like death?

      Once she was done, she wiped her face with a cool, damp cloth and realized two things: one, it was Sunday so she wasn’t late for anything. And two, there was a glorious smell coming from the kitchen and overtaking her home.

      Surprisingly, whatever that scent was, it didn’t make her more nauseous. If anything, her stomach was ready to go. This roller coaster of emotions and cravings was extremely difficult to keep up with.

      Eve thought back to last night when Graham had made a simple grilled cheese sandwich and cut up an apple for her. Then he’d practically patted her on the head and sent her to bed, saying he’d lock up.

      So, either he’d stayed and that was him in the kitchen, or one of her sisters was here. She highly doubted Nora or Grace had come by just to do some cooking, so she had to assume Graham had made himself at home.

      Considering that she’d just tossed her cookies, so to speak, she opted to brush her teeth before heading down. By the time she hit the bottom steps, her mouth was watering. The magnificent aroma filled the entire first floor. Suddenly her belly growled and she had no idea how she could go from sick one second to hungry the next. Pregnancy sure wasn’t predictable.

      Heading down the wide hall toward the back of the house and the kitchen, Eve tried to figure out what to say to Graham. She’d seriously had a meltdown last night. He’d been so concerned about the baby, about her. But she hadn’t been able to control those insane emotions.

      Years ago when she’d thought herself in love, she’d have given anything for her boyfriend to have cared about her, about their baby. But she’d endured the first trimester and part of the second alone. Then she’d struggled through the miscarriage, the D & C, the grieving. All of it on her own. She’d pushed her sisters away because nobody could fix her broken heart. Nobody could bring back her baby and she wanted to be left alone.

      Graham was most likely worried about his place in their child’s life. He wasn’t the type of man to sit back and let someone else raise his child. Still, the fact he’d stayed last night showed the type of man he was. He could’ve walked away.

      So what did this mean? Did he want more than just shared parenting? Did he want to try at a relationship?

      Good morning, shoulders.

      Freezing midstride, Eve stared straight ahead to the sexiest cook she’d ever seen. She’d seen Graham countless times with nothing on, but finding him in just his jeans standing at her stove was like some sort of domestic porn. Seriously. This was calendar material. Forget the firefighters, sign Graham up. The way those back muscles flexed and relaxed as he did...whatever it was he was doing.

      There was a man cooking in her house. The sexy, hot father of her baby was cooking in her house.

      This sight alone was enough to make her want to strip and see if they could make use of that kitchen island, but she’d promised herself no more. She needed to focus on so many other things and her sex life was going to have to take a backseat for a while. What a shame, when she was facing such a delectable sight.

      “You’re just in time.”

      He didn’t turn around as he spoke, just continued to bustle about getting breakfast ready as if this were the most normal thing in the world. As if he belonged here.

      Eve couldn’t move from the doorway. Between last night and this morning, she had no clue what Graham had planned next. Not one time did he try to get her undressed. Maybe he didn’t find her as appealing as he used to. Perhaps pregnant women were a turnoff. Granted, it wasn’t like she felt sexy at the moment.

      No matter, she wasn’t looking for more. At this point, her only hope was that she could keep the peace in her family when they found out she was carrying a Newport’s baby.

      “Why did you stay?”

      Graham froze, plates in hand. Throwing a glance over his shoulder, he held her with his intense stare. “Because someone needs to make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”

      “So you’re my keeper now? I’m old enough to take care of myself.”

      She didn’t mention the fact that he was younger than her. There was no need to state the obvious. But the fact that he’d stayed out of pity didn’t sit well with her. Maybe she’d gotten her hopes up too high to think he’d stayed simply because he cared.

      “I’m not saying you can’t.” He dished up some type of casserole and...was that fried apples? “It’s the weekend. I wanted to stay and make you breakfast, so I did.”

      She wanted to argue, but the second she took a seat at the island and he placed that plate in front of her, she had no idea what they’d been on the verge of bickering about.

      Eve stared down at her plate of food, which looked like it came from some cooking magazine—not the kind featuring light cuisine, either. Then she glanced at Graham, who was scooping up his own servings.

      “You cook?” Okay, that was a stupid question. Clearly elves weren’t involved. “I mean, this is more than just oatmeal or cereal for breakfast. Where did you learn this?”

      Graham set his plate down and went back for two large glasses of orange juice. After putting everything on the island, he took a seat on a stool next to her.

      “My grandma Gerty taught us all about cooking. It may have seemed like punishment at the time, but looking back I can see she did it out of love, and as a way to bond.”

      The wistfulness layered with the love in his tone told her this grandmother was one special lady. Eve