Their precious Christmas surprise...

Midwife Ella O’Brien loves babies, but she believes she can’t have her own. Until at a charity ball the chemistry between her and dashing obstetrician Oliver Darrington explodes into a night of passion that proves her wrong!

Aristocratic Oliver has been here before, but the baby wasn’t his! Now he’s guarding his emotions—even from lovely, innocent Ella. Can the baby they both want so much help them to trust in their love this Christmas...and become the family they really long for?

Dear Reader,

This book is all about a Christmas miracle.

Ella struggled against the odds to become a midwife, and then discovered that it was almost impossible for her to have a baby. Oliver was badly hurt by a previous partner who took away something precious. Neither of them is prepared to have a serious relationship, and they bury themselves in work, suppressing how they really feel about each other.

But one unexpected night leads to an even more unexpected consequence.

And they discover that miracles really do happen.

I hope you enjoy their journey!

With love,

Kate Hardy

The Midwife’s Pregnancy Miracle

Kate Hardy

www.millsandboon.co.uk

KATE HARDY has always loved books, and could read before she went to school. She discovered Mills & Boon books when she was twelve and decided this was what she wanted to do. When she isn’t writing Kate enjoys reading, cinema, ballroom dancing and the gym. You can contact her via her website: katehardy.com.

Books by Kate Hardy

Mills & Boon Medical Romance

Her Real Family Christmas

200 Harley Street: The Soldier Prince

It Started with No Strings...

A Baby to Heal Their Hearts

A Promise...to a Proposal?

Her Playboy’s Proposal

Capturing the Single Dad’s Heart

Mills & Boon Cherish

Falling for Mr December

Billionaire, Boss...Bridegroom?

Holiday with the Best Man

Visit the Author Profile page at millsandboon.co.uk for more titles.

For Scarlet, Susanne and Tina—

really enjoyed working with you all on our quartet!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

PROLOGUE

Hallowe’en

ALMOST AS IF someone had called his name, Oliver Darrington found himself turning round and looking at the doorway.

Ella O’Brien, one of the junior midwives from his department, was standing there. Despite the fact that she was wearing a mask that covered half her face—because tonight was the annual Hallowe’en Masquerade Ball, the glitziest fundraiser in the Royal Cheltenham Hospital’s social calendar—he recognised her instantly.

Desire shimmered at the bottom of his spine and he dragged in a breath. He really needed to get a grip. Ella was his colleague. His friend. He’d been attracted to her since the very first moment she’d walked into Teddy’s, the centre for birth and babies at the Royal Cheltenham Hospital. Her striking red hair, worn tied back in a scrunchie, had snagged his attention. Then he’d noticed her clear green eyes and the soft curve of her mouth. He’d wanted her immediately, though he’d held himself back. Since the fallout from dating Justine, Oliver didn’t do serious relationships; plus he hadn’t wanted to risk making things awkward on the ward between them, so he’d managed to keep things strictly professional between himself and Ella.

Though several times when they’d worked together, his hand had brushed against hers and it had felt as if he’d been galvanised. And sometimes he’d caught her eye and wondered, did she ever feel that same secret pull?

Though he’d dismissed it: Ella O’Brien was one of the most grounded and independent women he’d ever met. He knew she was dedicated to her career and she wasn’t the type to let herself be distracted by a fling—which was all he could offer. Besides, over the last eighteen months, he’d discovered that he liked Ella: she was easy to work with, being both sharply intelligent and yet able to empathise with the mums on the unit. He didn’t want to risk spoiling that.

But tonight...

Tonight was the first time he’d ever seen her all dressed up, and it threw him. At work, Ella wore uniform or scrubs, and on team nights out she’d always dressed casually in jeans and a T-shirt. Oliver couldn’t quite square the no-nonsense midwife he was used to with the woman in the navy satin prom dress. Her dress had a sweetheart neckline and was drawn in sharply at the waist to highlight her curves before flaring out again to the knee, and she was wearing high heels which made her legs look incredibly long. She looked utterly gorgeous. Right at that moment, Oliver really wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her until they were both dizzy.

‘Stop being so shallow, Darrington,’ he chided himself.

And then he realised that Ella had hesitated in the doorway; she was clearly scanning the room, trying to work out where the rest of the team was. For just a moment, she looked vulnerable—which was odd for someone who was always so confident and cheerful at work. And that look of uncertainty made him go straight to her rescue.

‘Good evening, Ella. You look lovely,’ he said as he joined her in the doorway.

Her fair Irish skin turned a delicate shade of pink. ‘Thank you, Oliver. But you’re not supposed to recognise me with a mask on, are you?’

‘Your hair’s a tiny bit of a giveaway.’ That glorious dark red. And tonight it was in a sophisticated updo, with a few loose, soft curls framing her face, making him want to release the pins and let it fall like silk onto her shoulders... Oh, for pity’s sake. Now was definitely not the time to start fantasising about her. He forced himself to concentrate. ‘So how did you recognise me?’ he asked.

‘Your voice is pretty distinctive.’

As was hers, with that soft Irish accent. ‘Fair cop,’ he said easily. ‘The rest of the team from Teddy’s is over there.’ He gestured in the direction of their table. ‘Come and have a glass of champagne.’

* * *

Even though Oliver was a good six inches taller than she was, Ella noticed that he kept his stride short to match hers as they skirted round the edge of the dance floor. She was really grateful; the last thing she wanted to do was to make a fool of herself by walking too fast and tripping over in her unfamiliar high heels. Especially here, at such a glamorous do. Right now, she felt seriously out of her depth. She’d never really been much of a one for parties and balls; at university, she’d missed out on most of the big events, because she’d been concentrating so hard on her studies. It had been such a struggle to get to university in the first place, she hadn’t wanted to jeopardise her career by partying when she should’ve been studying. And it was one of the reasons why she was still a virgin at the age of twenty-six: she’d concentrated on her studies rather than on serious relationships. Part of her felt ridiculously self-conscious about it; in this day and age, it was so old-fashioned to still be a virgin. Yet, at the same time, she felt that sex ought to mean something. She didn’t want to have a one-night stand with someone just for the sake of it.

Last year, she’d been on duty so she hadn’t been able to make it to the famous Royal Cheltenham Masquerade Ball; this year, she was off duty so she didn’t have a good excuse to avoid it. But either Oliver hadn’t noticed that she was a bit flustered, or he was too sensitive to make an issue of it. He simply chatted to her as they crossed the dance floor to join the rest of the team.

Ella, you look lovely.

Typical Oliver: charming and kind. It was one of the skills that made him popular to work with on the ward, because he always managed to make their mums-to-be feel more at ease and stop worrying. Just as he was clearly trying to put her at her ease now.

Ella had worked with the consultant for the last eighteen months; although she’d been instantly attracted to him, she’d been very careful not to act on that attraction. Although there had been moments when they’d accidentally touched at work and it had made her feel as if her heart was doing a backward flip, and sometimes she’d caught his eye in an unguarded moment and wondered if he felt that same pull, she hadn’t acted on it because Oliver Darrington was way, way out of her league. According to the hospital grapevine, the string of women he dated all looked like models or had aristocratic connections; no way would he be interested in a junior midwife who came from a very ordinary family in County Kerry. So she’d kept things strictly professional between them at work, not even confessing to her best friend Annabelle how much she liked Oliver.

And she’d be strictly professional tonight, too.

Which was a real effort, given how gorgeous Oliver looked right now. He usually wore a suit to work, but she’d never seen him wearing evening dress before. He reminded her of Henry Cavill in his The Man from U.N.C.L.E. role: tall and handsome, debonair even, with his dark hair perfectly groomed. Except Oliver’s eyes were grey rather than blue, and his mouth was even more beautiful than the actor’s...

Get a grip, Ella O’Brien, she told herself, and she managed to smile and say the kind of things everyone expected to hear when she and Oliver joined the rest of the team.

The warmth of their welcome dispelled the remainder of her nerves, and she found herself chatting easily.

‘Dance with me?’ Oliver asked.

This was the stuff dreams were made of: waltzing around a posh ballroom with Oliver Darrington.

Except Ella couldn’t dance. She’d always been horribly clumsy. The only thing that she was worse at than dancing was spelling, thanks to her dyslexia. And she’d spent so many years as a child believing that she was stupid and slow and hopeless at everything that she didn’t trust herself not to make a mess of dancing with Oliver.

‘I should warn you that I have two left feet,’ she said. ‘And I’ve never danced to this sort of music.’ She gestured to the jazz trio on the stage. ‘I’ve only ever watched Strictly Come Dancing on the telly. So on your head—or toes—be it, if you really want me to dance with you. But now’s your chance to escape with all your toes unbruised.’

‘You won’t bruise my toes.’ He smiled. ‘Just follow my lead and it’ll be fine.’

Was it really going to be that easy? Ella didn’t share his confidence. At all.

But then Oliver led her onto the dance floor and they actually started dancing together.

It felt like floating on air. The way he guided her meant that she was moving in the right direction and her feet were always in the right place. And she’d never, ever experienced anything so magical. It was even better than she’d dreamed. Right at that second she felt like a fairy-tale princess in her swishy-skirted dress, dancing with the handsome prince. And she loved every moment of it. Being in his arms felt so right—as if this was where she’d always belonged. It made her feel warm and safe and cherished; yet, at the same time, there was the slow, sensual burn of attraction, dangerous and exciting.

Oliver danced with her for three songs in a row; and she was greedy enough to want to dance with him all night. Except this was the hospital’s charity ball and Oliver was a consultant. He should be mixing, like the rest of the senior staff.

‘Shouldn’t you be—well—dancing with someone else?’ Ella asked, feeling guilty both for being selfish and for wanting Oliver all to herself.

His eyes glittered behind his mask. ‘No. It’s up to me to decide who I dance with—and I want to dance with you.’

Her heart skipped a beat. Was Oliver telling her that he’d noticed her, the way she’d noticed him over the last few months? That for him, too, this had been building up for a long time? Or was she misreading him and hoping for too much?

‘Though would you rather be dancing with someone else?’ he asked.

‘No, no—not at all.’ Though she rather thought that Oliver might have spoiled her for dancing with anyone else, ever again. Not that she was going to admit that to him.

‘Good.’ He kept her in his arms, and Ella’s pulse went up a notch as they moved round the dance floor.

* * *

Oliver knew he shouldn’t be doing this. He’d meant to dance with Ella once, to be polite and friendly, then keep his distance.

The problem was, he really liked the feel of her in his arms. Which again was ridiculous, because Oliver didn’t do proper relationships. Not since Justine. He was well aware that the hospital grapevine had labelled him a heartbreaker, a playboy who had an endless string of one-night stands. There was a grain of truth in the rumours, because he never got involved with anyone for the long term; but he really wasn’t a heartbreaker and he was picky about who he slept with. He always made sure that every woman he dated knew the score right from the start: that it was just for fun, just for now and not for always. He definitely didn’t leave a trail of broken hearts behind him, because that would be unkind and unfair.

But there was something about Ella that drew him. A simplicity of heart, maybe?

Which was precisely why he ought to make an excuse and get her to dance with someone else. Put some space between them until his common sense came back. He didn’t want to mess up their working relationship. Even though right now he really, really wanted to dance her into a quiet corridor and kiss her until they were both dizzy.

Then he became aware that she was speaking and shook himself. ‘Sorry, Ella. I was wool-gathering. What did you say?’

She gave him the sweetest, sweetest smile—one that made his heart feel as if it had just turned over. ‘Nothing important.’

‘I guess I ought to stop monopolising you and let you dance with someone else,’ he said.

* * *

Which was Oliver being nice and taking the blame for her social mistakes, Ella thought. ‘Yes,’ she agreed. She kept the bright smile pinned on her face as they went back to join the rest of the team. Then Charlie Warren, one of the other doctors from Teddy’s, asked her to dance. Although Charlie was usually quite reserved, his offer was genuine enough, so she accepted.

‘So are you enjoying the ball, Ella, or here under sufferance like me?’ Charlie asked.

‘I’m enjoying myself.’ In fact, much more than she’d expected to. Though she had a nasty feeling that Oliver was the main reason for that. ‘I’m sorry you’re not.’

‘I never do, really,’ Charlie began, then grimaced when she trod on his toes.

‘Sorry,’ she said instantly. ‘I’m afraid I have two left feet.’

‘I thought all Irish people were supposed to be natural dancers? I guess you have Riverdance to blame for that.’ It was an attempt at humour, as he was obviously trying to make polite conversation, but for as long as Ella had known Charlie, he’d always been distant with everyone at work. Quite the lone wolf.

‘Sadly, that gene bypassed me,’ she said. ‘I’m more Flatfeet than Flatley.’

‘I think my toes have already worked that one out for themselves but, even though we’re no Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, you look lovely tonight, Ella.’

‘Thank you,’ she said smiling. ‘I think you look more like James Bond than Fred Astaire anyway.’

‘You’re very sweet, Ella.’ He gave her a shy half-smile. ‘And you’ve made an otherwise dull evening much nicer.’

Ella found herself going through a similar routine with the colleagues she danced with from the Emergency Department.

‘You know, we’re going to have to set up a special broken toe department in the unit, just for the men you’ve danced with tonight,’ Mike Wetherby teased.

‘So I’d be better off sticking to delivering babies than dancing, hmm?’ she teased back, knowing that he meant no harm by the comment.

‘You can dance with me any time you like, Ella O’Brien,’ Mike said. ‘As long as I have fair warning so I can put on my steel-toe-capped boots first.’

She just laughed. ‘In steel-toe-capped boots, you’d be clomping around the dance floor as badly as me.’

‘Then we’d be the perfect match.’

‘Yeah, yeah.’

And then Oliver rested his hand on Ella’s shoulder. ‘The next dance is mine, I believe.’

The warmth of his fingers against her bare skin sent a shaft of pure desire through her. She reminded herself crossly that this was a charity ball and Oliver had danced with at least half a dozen other women. He’d treated them in just the same way that he’d treated her, with courtesy and gallantry, so she was kidding herself and setting herself up for disappointment if she thought that his behaviour towards her tonight was anything more than that of a colleague. And she wasn’t going to embarrass herself by throwing herself at him and being turned down.

Was it wishful thinking or did the lights actually dim slightly as they moved onto the dance floor?

Oliver drew her closer, and she shivered.

‘Cold?’ he asked.

‘No, I’m fine,’ she said, not wanting him to guess that her reaction had been something so very different.

He pulled back slightly and looked her in the eye. For a second, Ella could’ve sworn that the same deep, intense yearning she felt was reflected in his eyes. But that had to be imagination or wishful thinking. Of course he didn’t feel like that about her. Why would he?

She stared at his mouth, wondering for a crazy second what it would be like if Oliver kissed her. It must be that second glass of champagne affecting her, she thought, vowing to stick to water for the rest of the evening.

But dancing with Oliver was headier than any amount of champagne. And she noticed that, although she’d been clumsy with her other partners, with Oliver she didn’t seem to put a foot wrong. Dancing with him made her feel as if someone had put a spell on her—but a nice spell, one that made her feel good.

And when he drew her closer still, she rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. Just for these few moments, she could believe that she and Oliver were together. Just the two of them, dancing cheek to cheek, with nobody else in the room. Just them and the night and the music...

At the end of the evening, Oliver said casually, ‘I think you’re on my way home, Ella. Can I give you a lift?’

The sensible thing to do would be to smile politely and say thanks, but she’d be fine—though she hadn’t remembered to book a taxi, and there was bound to be an enormous queue so she’d have to wait for ages in the cold. It was a twenty-minute drive from here to her flat. She could manage that without making a fool of herself and throwing herself at Oliver, couldn’t she?

‘Thank you. That’s very kind of you,’ she said. ‘It’ll save me having to wait ages for a taxi.’

‘Pleasure,’ he said. ‘Shall we go?’

She walked with him to his car. It was icy outside, and the thin wrap she’d brought did nothing to protect her from the cold.

‘Here,’ he said, shrugging out of his jacket and sliding it across her shoulders.

‘But you’ll be cold,’ she protested.

‘Not as cold as you,’ he said.

Typical Oliver: gallant and charming. But she appreciated the warmth of his jacket, and tried not to think about the fact that it had been warmed by Oliver’s body heat.

Just as she’d half expected, his car was sleek and low-slung. When he opened the door for her, Ella nearly tripped getting in and was cross with herself for being so stupid and clumsy.

‘Ella, relax. There aren’t any strings. This is just a lift home,’ he said.

More was the pity, she thought, and was even crosser with herself for being such an idiot.

‘Sorry. Too much champagne,’ she fibbed.

When she fumbled with the seat belt, he sorted it out for her. Her skin tingled where his fingers brushed against her.

Stop it, she told herself. He doesn’t think of you in that way. And you’re too busy at work to get involved with anyone—especially a colleague who apparently never dates anyone more than twice. Keep it professional.

‘What’s your postcode?’ he asked.

She told him and he put it into the sat nav. Then he switched on the stereo and soft classical music flooded the car. ‘Do you mind this?’ he asked. ‘I can change it, if you like.’

‘No, it’s lovely. I like piano music,’ she said. ‘We have a piano at home.’

‘You play?’

‘No, Mam does. I meant home in Ireland, not here,’ she said. ‘Mam’s a music teacher. She plays the piano at school in assembly and in the Christmas Nativity plays for the little ones.’

‘Did you ever think about being a teacher?’ he asked.

‘No.’ Everyone had thought that little Ella O’Brien was very sweet but not very bright, and would never get through her exams. Until the new biology teacher had started at her school when Ella was fifteen, worked out that Ella was dyslexic rather than stupid, and batted her corner for her. ‘I always wanted to be a midwife, like my Aunty Bridget.’ Everyone had thought that Ella was being a dreamer when she’d said what she wanted to do, but she’d put in the effort and worked so hard that she’d managed to get through her exams with good enough grades to get a place in London to train as a midwife. ‘It’s so special, sharing those first few minutes of a new life coming into the world.’ She paused. ‘What about you? Did you always want to be a doctor?’

‘Yes.’ Though there was something slightly shuttered in Oliver’s voice, and Ella wondered if he’d had the same kind of struggle she’d had about her choice of career. Although her parents supported her now, they’d worried throughout the whole of her degree and her training as a midwife, even though her tutors knew about her dyslexia and were really supportive. Her parents had told her all the time that she ought to give it up and come home to Ireland—particularly when she’d had her operation for a ruptured ovarian cyst and fallen behind in her studies. Thankfully Ella had been stubborn about it, and her parents had eventually come to terms with the fact that she was staying in England. She tried to make it home for a visit every couple of months, as well as video-calling them at least once a week through her laptop. And nowadays she knew her parents were more proud of her than worried about her.

Oliver didn’t elaborate on his comment, and she felt too awkward to ask anything more. Particularly as she was so physically aware of him sitting next to her.

Well, she was just going to have to be sensible about this. But, when he pulled up on the road outside her flat, her mouth clearly wasn’t with the programme, because she found herself saying, ‘Thank you for the lift. Would you like to come in for a coffee?’

* * *

This was where Oliver knew that he was supposed to say no. Where he was supposed to wish Ella goodnight, wait until she was safely indoors and then drive away. But he discovered that his mouth wasn’t working in partnership with his common sense, because he found himself saying yes and following her into her flat.

Her tiny flat was on the ground floor in one of the pretty Regency squares in Cheltenham.

‘Come and sit down.’ She ushered him into the living room. ‘Black, one sugar, isn’t it?’

‘Yes. Thanks.’

‘I’ll be two seconds,’ she said, and disappeared off to what he presumed was her kitchen.

He glanced around the room. There was enough space for a small sofa, a bookcase full of midwifery texts, and a very compact desk where there were more textbooks and a laptop. It looked as if Ella spent a lot of time outside work studying.

There was a framed photograph on the mantelpiece of her at graduation with two people who looked enough like her to be her parents, plus several others of a large group of people in a garden. Clearly she was at some family party or other, and everyone seemed to radiate love and happiness. Oliver felt a momentary pang. His own family wasn’t like that, though perhaps part of that was his own fault for distancing himself from them. He could hardly be close to his brother while avoiding his parents, though; and when he saw his parents he was always on the receiving end of their disappointment.

Sometimes he thought that most parents would’ve been proud of their son for sticking through fourteen years of training and qualifying as an obstetrician. But the Darringtons had had rather different expectations for their son...

He really ought to make his excuses and leave. Ella was the last person he should get involved with. Apart from the fact that she was obviously much closer to her family than he was to his, she was his colleague and he didn’t want things to get messy at work. Nothing could happen between them.

But when he went into her small kitchen to tell her that he needed to go, she turned round and smiled at him and all his common sense fled. Her beautiful green eyes held him spellbound. And right at that moment he felt the strongest connection to her. Her mouth looked warm and sweet and soft, and he really wanted to kiss her. When his gaze flicked up to her eyes again, he realised that she was doing exactly the same: looking at his mouth. So was she, too, wondering...?

Instead of saying goodnight, he stepped forward and brushed his mouth very lightly against hers—just as he’d wanted to do all evening. Not just all evening, if he was honest with himself: he’d wanted to kiss her for weeks and weeks and weeks.

Every nerve-end in his lips tingled, so he couldn’t stop himself doing it again.

And this time she kissed him back.

‘Ella,’ he said when he broke the kiss. ‘I’ve wanted to do that for months.’

‘Me, too,’ she whispered.

So she’d noticed him in the same way?

His common sense made a last-ditch bid to extract him. ‘We shouldn’t do this.’

‘I know—we work together and we ought to be sensible,’ she agreed.

‘Exactly,’ he said, relieved that he hadn’t quite ruined their working relationship by giving in to that mad urge to kiss her. They could still salvage a professional friendship after tonight.

But then she rested her hand against his cheek. Her touch was light and gentle, and he found himself twisting his head to kiss her palm.

Her beautiful green eyes darkened.

Then the kissing started all over again, this time in earnest, and Oliver forgot all his good intentions. He loosened her hair, the way he’d wanted to do all evening, and let it tumble down to her shoulders.

Her eyes widened. ‘Oliver!’

‘I know.’ He kissed her again. ‘But I can’t help this—I really want you, Ella. I have done since the first time I met you.’

‘Me, too,’ she said.

His whole body tingled with desire. She wanted him as much as he wanted her?

‘So what are we going to do about this?’ she asked.

‘Right now, I can’t think straight,’ he admitted. ‘I just want to make love with you.’

For a moment, he thought she was going to back away. But then she inclined her head very slightly and took his hand to lead him to her bedroom.

‘Are you sure about this?’ he asked softly as she switched the bedside light on.

‘I’m sure,’ she said, her voice low and husky.

He kissed her, and it made his head spin. Hardly able to believe this was happening, he slid the zip down at the back of her dress. Seconds later, he stroked the material away from her shoulders and it fell to the floor.

She undid his bow tie, then unbuttoned his shirt with shaking fingers, smoothed the material off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor next to her dress.

He unsnapped her bra. ‘You’re beautiful. All curves.’

She gave him a shy smile. ‘You’re beautiful, too. All muscles.’

And suddenly the faint awkwardness was gone—there was just Ella, kissing her, and feeling the warmth of her skin against his.

Oliver wasn’t sure which of them finished undressing whom, but the next thing he knew he was kneeling between her thighs and her hair was spread over the pillows, just as he’d imagined it.

And then he stopped. ‘Protection. I don’t have a condom.’

‘You don’t need one,’ she said, flushing slightly.

So she was on the Pill? Part of him remembered Justine’s treachery and the repercussions. But he knew that Ella wasn’t like Justine. The woman he’d got to know over the last eighteen months was open and honest. She wasn’t going to cheat on him with someone else, get pregnant, and then try to make him believe that the baby was his. He knew that without having to ask.

‘Oliver?’ She looked worried, now. ‘I don’t sleep around. I’m not...’ The colour in her cheeks deepened. ‘You know.’

‘I know.’ He stroked her face. ‘And the rumours about me aren’t true. I don’t have sex with every single woman I date.’ He shouldn’t be having sex with Ella, either; but right now her skin was warm against his, this had been a long time coming, and he wanted to do this more than he’d wanted to do anything in years.

‘I know,’ she said, and kissed him.

That kiss made him relax with her, and he slowed the pace down, wanting to explore her. He kissed and stroked his way down her body, starting with a dip beneath her collarbones and paying attention to exactly what made her sigh with pleasure, from the curve of her inner elbow to the soft undersides of her breasts, then starting with the hollows of her anklebones and feathering his way upwards until she was making tiny, involuntary noises and clutching at his shoulders.

‘Now?’ he asked softly.

‘Now.’ Her voice was raspy and husky with desire. Which was exactly what he’d wanted.

As he eased into her, he felt her tense.

‘OK?’ he asked.

She nodded. ‘I just never thought it would be like...’

Her words slammed into his brain and he realised the implication of what she’d just said.

Ella was a virgin. And he’d just taken her virginity.

Oh, hell. But it was too late now. He couldn’t reverse what he’d done. All he could do was try to make this as good for her as he could.

‘Oliver?’ And now she looked panicky. As if she thought she’d done something wrong.

It wasn’t her. He was the one in the wrong. He should’ve thought. Should’ve checked. Should’ve walked away, instead of giving in to that desperate need to be close to her.

‘You’re beautiful,’ he said, staying perfectly still so her body would have the time and space to get used to him, and kissed her. Because then he wouldn’t have to talk and make a mess of things.

Slowly, she relaxed again, and kissed him back. And he paid close attention, finding out what made her whimper with desire, taking it slowly until he finally felt her body rippling round his and it tipped him into his own climax.

He held her close. ‘Ella. I feel so guilty about this.’

‘Don’t. You didn’t do anything wrong.’ She stroked his face.

‘But you were a—’

‘Virgin. I know.’ She bit her lip. ‘Which is so stupid in this day and age. It makes me feel... Well, who on earth is still a virgin at the age of twenty-six?’ She grimaced.

He knew the answer to that. ‘A woman who’s waiting for the right person.’

‘There’s no guarantee that Mr Right will ever come along.’

Or Ms Right. She had a point.

And right now she was clearly embarrassed by the situation, because her fair skin was flushed.

‘I’m not judging you,’ he said awkwardly. ‘Ella, you’re lovely.’

The ‘but’ was a mile high in flashing neon letters, and she obviously saw that straight away. ‘But you don’t do relationships,’ she said. ‘I know.’

‘I’m sorry. I should go.’ He dragged in a breath. ‘But at the same time I don’t want to leave you. I don’t want to leave it messy like this.’

‘I’m not expecting anything from you, Oliver.’

But he’d seen the flicker of disappointment in her eyes before she’d managed to hide it. She’d just given him her virginity. To simply walk away from her immediately after that would make him feel like a real lowlife.

Plus he didn’t actually want to go. Having Ella in his arms felt so right.

‘Can I stay for a bit and just—well, hold you?’ he asked.

‘Why?’

One answer slammed into his head, but he wasn’t ready to consider that. He took a deep breath. ‘Because I feel horrible. I can’t just get up and leave you. I just took your virginity, Ella.’

‘That isn’t an issue.’

He rather thought it was. ‘I feel bad about it.’

‘Don’t. It was my choice.’ She paused. ‘But you don’t want a relationship with me.’

Trust Ella to hit the nail on the head instead of avoiding the issue. His no-nonsense colleague was back. ‘It’s not you. It’s anyone.’ He raked a hand through his hair. ‘I’ve got an interview for the Assistant Head of Obstetrics job next week. If I get the post, then all my attention’s going to be on my new job. It’s the wrong time for me to get involved with anyone.’

‘And I’m not your type anyway.’

Actually, she was exactly his type, warm and sweet and lovely; though his family wouldn’t agree with him. His brother would be fine, but his parents would see her as the girl from a very different background—an unsuitable background. Not that anyone at work knew about his family. He’d been careful to keep his background very quiet. The fact that his father had a title had absolutely nothing to do with Oliver’s ability to do his job, and he wanted people to judge him for himself, not for whose son he was.

He took her hand. ‘Ella. I like you a lot. I respect you. And I’ve been attracted to you ever since the first time I met you. What happened tonight...I think it’s been a long time coming.’

‘It has.’

So she felt that weird, almost elemental pull, too?

‘But we’re not going to repeat it.’

He couldn’t tell a thing from her expression or from the tone of her voice. Everything was neutral. ‘It’s not you, Ella. It’s me.’ The last thing he wanted was for her to take the blame. He knew the whole thing was his fault. He should’ve kept himself under his usual control.

‘As far as everyone else is concerned, you gave me a lift home from the ball—as your colleague—and you stayed for a cup of coffee,’ she said. ‘And that’s it.’

‘Thank you.’ She really was letting him off the hook—and it was a lot more than he deserved.

‘If you, um, need the bathroom, it’s next door. The towels are clean. Help yourself to anything you need.’

‘Thanks.’ He pulled on his underpants and padded to the bathroom.

When he returned from his shower, with the towel still wrapped round his waist, she’d changed into a pair of pyjamas. Totally unsexy striped flannel pyjamas that buttoned right up to the neck.

And how bad was it that he wanted to unbutton them and slide the material off her skin again? To kiss every centimetre of skin he uncovered and lose himself in her warmth?

Then again, those pyjamas were also a statement. She was dressed—and he was wearing only her bath towel. ‘Do you want me to go?’ he asked.

‘I think it would be best,’ she said.

He knew she was right, and that leaving would be the sensible thing to do, but he still felt bad. As if he should’ve stayed a bit longer, and at least held her until she fell asleep. Going now felt as if he was deserting her.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

‘I’m not.’ She lifted her chin. ‘We did nothing to be ashamed of.’

He had. He’d taken her virginity without a second thought. But if he pressed the issue, he had a feeling she’d take it the wrong way and think he was ashamed about sleeping with her—that she was the problem, not him. Which wasn’t true.

‘Uh-huh,’ he said awkwardly. Normally he was good with words, but tonight that ability had completely deserted him. ‘Ella—we’ve worked together well for eighteen months. I don’t want that to change.’

‘It won’t. Nobody at the hospital needs to know anything about what just happened.’

She didn’t meet his eye, he noticed. So that comment about not being ashamed had obviously been sheer bravado.

‘I’m not a good bet when it comes to relationships, Ella,’ he said softly. Though he didn’t want to tell her why. How stupid was he not to have realised that Justine had been seeing someone else, and that he was her golden ticket to the good life for her and the baby that wasn’t his? He knew that Ella wasn’t a gold-digger, the way Justine had been; but he still couldn’t face taking a risk with a relationship again. Making another mistake. Having his heart trampled on again. So it was better to stay exactly as he was, where everyone knew the score and that all his relationships were just for fun.

* * *

Not a good bet when it comes to relationships.

Neither am I, Ella thought ruefully.

What did she have to offer anyone? Thanks to the endometriosis that had dogged her for years and caused the ovarian cyst to grow and rupture, Ella couldn’t have children. It was one of the reasons why she’d avoided relationships; what was the point of starting anything when you knew you were taking someone’s future choices away? Who would want a wife who couldn’t give him a family? She’d seen first-hand from her own best friend’s experience how the pressure of infertility could cause even the strongest marriage to crack.

So she knew she was better off as she was. She’d come to terms with the situation over the last few years; now she had the chance to concentrate on her job and prove that she was better than her grades at university suggested—that she was worthy of her job. And her job would be enough for her.

‘I don’t want a relationship with you, Oliver,’ she said. It wasn’t strictly true, but she wasn’t stupid enough to long for something she knew she couldn’t have. ‘Except a working one.’

The relief in his expression was so dazzling, it almost blinded her.

Well, she could be just as bright and chirpy. She wasn’t going to let him see how much his relief had hurt her. ‘Shall I make you a cup of tea while you’re getting dressed?’

‘No, it’s fine, thank you. I’d probably better go.’

‘I’ll, um, let you get changed,’ she said, and headed for the kitchen to give him some space.

The two mugs of instant coffee—never made—sat accusingly in front of the kettle. She tipped the coffee granules in the bin, rinsed out the mugs and made herself a strong cup of tea. Mam’s solution to everything, she thought wryly. Though she had a feeling that it would take an awful lot more than a cup of tea to sort this out.

She’d just have to pretend that tonight had never happened. And hopefully things wouldn’t be awkward between Oliver and her at work.

CHAPTER ONE

Saturday 3rd December

‘EXCUSE ME, PLEASE. I’ll be back in a second.’ Ella held her breath and made a dash for the door. This was hardly professional behaviour, but it would be better than throwing up in front of the poor mum-to-be and her partner.

She made it to the staff toilet with seconds to spare. And then, weirdly, as she leaned over the bowl, she stopped feeling sick.

Huh?

If she was coming down with the sickness bug that was sweeping its way through the hospital and leaving all the departments short-staffed, she should’ve been throwing up right now. Big time. But the queasiness that had left her feeling hot and sweaty in the consulting room seemed to have vanished.

She frowned. The last thing she’d been aware of was how strong the dad-to-be’s aftershave had been.

Sensitive to smells and feeling sick...

Had any other woman listed those symptoms, Ella would’ve suspected early pregnancy. But she knew that she couldn’t possibly be pregnant. Her doctor had given her the bad news more than five years ago, after her ovarian cyst had ruptured. Between the cyst and the endometriosis that had dogged Ella and caused her to fall behind in her studies, her Fallopian tubes were in a bad way and she’d been told she’d never have children of her own.

How ironic that she’d specialised in midwifery. Cuddles with a baby she’d just delivered, or with a friend’s or cousin’s child, were all she would ever have. But after a lot of heartache and tears she’d come to terms with the situation. She loved her job. Trying to find a Mr Right who wouldn’t mind that she couldn’t ever give him a baby of his own—well, that was just being greedy and expecting too much.

She splashed water on her face, took a deep breath and returned to the consulting room to finish the antenatal appointment with her parents-to-be.

But when exactly the same thing happened at her next antenatal appointment, Ella began to wonder quite what was going on.

She and Oliver hadn’t used protection, the night of the Hallowe’en masked ball. But she’d thought it wouldn’t matter.

Of course she wasn’t pregnant. She couldn’t be.

As for the fact that her bra felt a bit too tight and her breasts felt slightly sore... That was purely psychological. Her imagination was simply running riot and coming up with other pregnancy symptoms. There was no way this could be a miracle baby. No way at all.

But, now she thought about it, her period was late. A quick mental count told her that it was two and a half weeks late. She hadn’t had time to notice because they’d been so short-staffed and busy in the department lately. Actually, that was probably the reason why her period was late in the first place; she’d been rushed off her feet and working crazy hours, so it wasn’t surprising that her menstrual cycle was protesting.

‘Ella O’Brien, you’re being a numpty,’ she told herself crossly. ‘Of course you’re not pregnant.’ All the same, during her break she took one of the pregnancy test kits from the cupboard. Just to prove to herself once and for all that she was being ridiculous, and then she could get on with the rest of her life.

She peed on the stick, then waited.

A blue line appeared in the first window, to show that the test was working properly.

And then, to her shock, a blue line appeared in the second window.

But—but—this couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t. How could she possibly be pregnant?

She sat there staring at the test, in turmoil, emotions whirling through her.

The test result was clear: she was expecting a baby. The one thing she’d been told would never happen, by specialists she’d trusted absolutely. From what they’d said, the odds were so stacked against her falling pregnant, she’d have more chances of winning a huge prize on the lottery.

Though in some ways this felt better than winning the lottery. A baby. The gift she’d never dreamed she’d ever be able to have, except from the sidelines. Although she’d smiled and been genuinely pleased whenever one of her cousins or one of her friends had announced she was pregnant, a tiny part of Ella had mourned the fact she’d never know the joy of being a mum. And now she was actually going to be a mum. Have a baby of her own. For a moment, sheer joy flooded through her. Despite almost impossible odds, she was going to have a baby. A Christmas miracle.

But then panic took over. What about her career? She’d already lost a lot of ground during her studies, thanks to the combination of her dyslexia and the pain of the endometriosis. Some days, the pain had been so debilitating that she hadn’t been able to sit through lectures, and she’d had to borrow notes from friends instead of recording the lectures, and struggled as the words danced across the page. Even when her doctor had finally found some medication to help deal with the pain, things hadn’t got much better, because then she’d had the ruptured cyst...

She’d worried that if her tutors knew the truth about her illness, they’d make her drop the course. They knew about her dyslexia and they’d already given her so much help, letting her record lectures so she could listen to them and absorb the knowledge that way. She couldn’t possibly ask for yet more help. It’d be greedy and selfish. Ella almost gave in to her parents’ suggestion to forget all about being a midwife and go home to Ireland. But then she’d had a work placement and she’d loved working on the ward so much. It had made her more determined to follow her dream of being a midwife, so she’d struggled on and scraped through her exams.

And she was always aware that she should’ve done better as a student, that her grades had let her down. It drove her to work harder on the ward, to prove to everyone round her that she was better than her exam results said she was. All the way through her medical career, she’d asked to use computer software to dictate notes rather than rely on her terrible handwriting, she’d used coloured lenses in her glasses so she could manage with bright paper or a screen, and she’d asked colleagues to proofread her notes—because she’d never, ever put a patient at risk by not double-checking that everything in the notes was absolutely correct. And, even though people weren’t supposed to discriminate against you at work if you had a medical condition, Ella had always felt the need to work extra hard, just to prove that her dyslexia wouldn’t make any difference to her ability to do her job.

But going on maternity leave in six months’ time would have a huge impact on her career. She’d lose experience and study time. And what would happen when her maternity leave had ended? Juggling work and still managing to spend a decent amount of time with the baby, as a single parent, was going to be tricky. Arranging childcare to fit round her shifts would be tricky, too.

Though she wasn’t the baby’s only parent.

And that was something else that worried her.

There was only one man who could be the father, because she’d only ever slept with Oliver.

Once.

How, how, how had she managed to get pregnant? Then again, how many times had a young mum-to-be cried on her shoulder that it had been the first time she’d had sex and she’d been so sure you couldn’t get pregnant if it was your first time?

But, that night, Ella had told Oliver it was safe not to use a condom. Her doctors had been so sure that she couldn’t have children—that her Fallopian tubes were so badly damaged that she probably wouldn’t be able to have children even with the help of IVF—that she really had believed it was safe not to use a condom.

And now here she was: single, and pregnant with Oliver’s baby after a one-night stand. How on earth was she going to tell him about the baby?

She had absolutely no idea what Oliver would say or how he’d react to the news. Since the night of the ball, things between them had cooled considerably. She wasn’t sure which of the two of them was the more embarrassed about what had happened. He’d really reacted badly once he’d realised that she’d been a virgin. Working together had been awkward, and both of them had made excuses to avoid work social events where the other might be there.

Things had cooled even more when it turned out that Oliver had got the job as Assistant Head of Obstetrics. Although he wasn’t directly Ella’s boss, he was very much her senior. The last thing she wanted was for him—or anyone else at Teddy’s—to think that she’d slept with him in an attempt to boost her career. She’d never do anything like that.

At least Oliver wasn’t dating anyone else, as far as she knew, so that was one less complication to worry about. But how did you tell someone that you were expecting his baby, when you weren’t even in a relationship with him and you had no idea how he’d react?

She couldn’t even begin to frame the right words.

She knew she wasn’t going to get a happy-ever-after, where Oliver went down on one knee with a hand clutched to his chest, declared his undying love for her and asked her to marry him. Though she wasn’t naive enough to expect that. And if he did ask her, she certainly wasn’t going to marry a man who didn’t love her, just for the baby’s sake. That wouldn’t be fair to any of them.

But Ella did want Oliver to be involved with the baby. She’d had a really happy childhood. She’d been an only child, but her parents had both come from big families and she’d had plenty of cousins around, so it had been almost as good as having siblings. She wanted that for her baby, too: that feeling of being loved and wanted, of being part of a family. And, even though she wasn’t expecting Oliver to resurrect anything more than a distant kind of friendship with her, she hoped that he would at least be there for their child as the baby grew up. It would be a terrible shame for either of them to miss out on any of that.

But what if Oliver didn’t want anything to do with the baby at all? What if he expected her to have a termination?

Then she’d have to rethink her situation at the Royal Cheltenham. Seriously. She already knew that she absolutely didn’t want a termination. Though working with Oliver in any way, shape or form would be impossible if he expected her to take that option. She’d have to leave the hospital and find a job somewhere else.

Even though she loved her job here at Teddy’s, Ella knew she would need some support with the baby. Even if Oliver didn’t expect her to have a termination, if he didn’t want to be involved with the baby, then she’d have no choice but to go home to Ireland. Although her parents would be shocked and a bit disappointed in her at first, she knew they loved her and wanted the best for her. And she knew how much they’d wanted to be grandparents, even though they’d assured her that of course they weren’t bothered by her infertility. They’d be on her side and help her with the baby, and maybe she could work part-time as a midwife in Limerick. Have the best of both worlds.

She cupped her hands protectively around her abdomen. ‘Right at this moment, I have no idea how this is going to work out, baby,’ she said softly. ‘But one thing I do know: I definitely want you. I never dreamed I’d be lucky enough to have you, and I’m so glad I am. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me—and I’m going to try my hardest to be the best mum to you I can.’

She splashed water on her face, wrapped the test kit in a plastic bag and stored it in her pocket, then returned to the ward.

‘Are you all right, Ella?’ Annabelle, her best friend and the head neonatal nurse on the ward, asked.

‘I’m fine,’ Ella fibbed. ‘You haven’t seen Oliver anywhere, have you?’

‘I think he’s in a meeting. Is it urgent, or can one of the other doctors fill in for him?’

It wasn’t urgent exactly—her pregnancy wouldn’t show for a few weeks yet—but absolutely nobody else could fill in for him on this. Not that she could tell Annabelle without telling her the rest of it. And, given the reasons why Annabelle’s marriage to Max had collapsed, Ella wanted to choose her words carefully so she didn’t rip open her best friend’s old scars. Particularly as Max was now working at Teddy’s, easing in to a role as Sienna’s maternity cover. Annabelle had opened her heart to Ella about the situation, the previous day, and Ella just couldn’t say anything that might hurt her best friend.

‘It’ll wait,’ Ella said, trying to keep her voice light.

And it was probably for the best that Oliver wasn’t available right now. It would give her some space and time to think about how she was going to tell him the news.

The afternoon was also filled with antenatal appointments; one mum in particular was really worried.

‘So this baby’s in the same position that her brother was in?’ Sara Reynolds asked.

‘Back to back—yes,’ Ella confirmed.

‘So that means another long labour followed by an emergency section?’ Sara grimaced. ‘I know I agreed to a trial of labour, but I’m so scared my scar might come open halfway through and I’ll have to be rushed into the operating theatre. And the idea of being in labour for two days again and then being stuck in bed for a week, feeling as bad as I did last time, when Jack’s so lively...’ She shook her head. ‘I can’t do it. I can’t, Ella.’

‘It’s not going to be like that,’ Ella reassured her. ‘We’ll keep a really close eye on you, and we’re not going to let you struggle. Though you’re right about a back-to-back labour taking longer, and this little one’s been very happily settled in that position for the last three appointments.’

‘You don’t think she’ll move round?’

‘At this stage, no. I’ll go and have a word with your consultant,’ Ella said, ‘but I’m pretty sure he’ll agree with me in the circumstances that we should be able to offer you an elective section.’

‘But if I have a section, doesn’t that mean I’ll be stuck in bed for a week and I won’t be able to drive for a month?’ Sara looked worried. ‘And I need the car to get Jack to nursery. It’s four miles away and there isn’t a bus.’

‘Last time,’ Ella said gently, ‘you’d had a two-day labour before the section. It’s not surprising that it took it out of you. This time round, you won’t have to go through that first, so it’ll be easier and you’ll be a lot more mobile. Nowadays we say you can drive when you feel ready, though if you can give it three weeks to let yourself heal that would be good. Maybe one of your family or friends nearby can help with the nursery run?’

Sara bit her lip. ‘My cousin said she’d come and help.’

‘Well, that’s great.’ Ella smiled at her and squeezed her hand. ‘Give me five minutes and I’ll have a chat with your consultant.’

Who would have to be Oliver, she saw with dismay as she looked at Sara’s notes on the computer screen.

Provided she didn’t let herself think about the situation she hadn’t had a chance to discuss with him, she should be able to deal with this. Her patient had to come first.

Thankfully, Oliver was out of his meeting. Ella could see him sitting at his computer, typing away and looking slightly grim. Working on notes following his meeting, maybe? Hopefully he wouldn’t mind the interruption. She rapped on his open door. ‘You look busy, but please can I interrupt you for three minutes on behalf of one of my mums, given that you’re her consultant and you need to be the one to sign off on the decisions?’

‘Sure.’

He didn’t smile at her, but that was OK. This was work. She ran through the brief. ‘The mum is Sara Reynolds, thirty-six weeks, second baby. Last time round, the baby was back-to-back and she had a two-day labour followed by an emergency section. This baby’s been in the same position for the last three appointments, and I don’t think she’s going to move now. Sara originally agreed to a trial of labour, but she’s really worried that she’ll end up with another long labour, and she’ll have to have another emergency section that’ll leave her unable to function for weeks. Given the baby’s position and that Sara’s got a really lively toddler to cope with as well, I really think she’d be better off having a planned section.’

‘Let me look at her notes so I can bring myself up to speed with exactly what happened last time,’ Oliver said.

‘OK.’ And please don’t let him be long, Ella thought. She was starting to pick up the smell from his coffee cup and it was making her stomach roil.

But clearly his computer system was on a go-slow when it came to retrieving the patient’s notes, and it got to the point where she couldn’t bear the smell of coffee any more.

‘Excuse me a moment,’ she said, and fled to the toilet. Thankfully it was queasiness again rather than actually being sick, and she splashed water onto her face until she felt able to cope again.

When she got back to Oliver’s office, he’d clearly had time to review Sara’s notes.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

‘Yes. I just felt a bit...’ No, now really wasn’t the time for her to tell him that it was morning sickness. She stopped. ‘I’m fine.’

‘If you’re going down with that sickness bug, I want you off the ward right now before you pass it on to anyone else,’ he said. ‘Go home, Ella.’

‘It’s not that.’ She didn’t want to tell him the real reason right now. It wasn’t the time or the place, and she still didn’t have the right words to explain the situation to him. ‘So do you have an answer for Sara?’

‘Yes. I agree with you, so I’ve marked on her notes that I’m happy for her to have an elective section. I’ll get it booked in with Theatre. Do you want me to come and have a word with her?’

‘No, it’s fine.’ Especially as that coffee was making her feel queasy again and she didn’t want to have to dash off to the toilets again and risk him working out what was really going on. ‘Thanks. I’d better get back to my patient. Catch you later.’

* * *

Ella was acting really oddly, Oliver thought. Rushing out of his office like that. Yet she’d been adamant that she wasn’t going down with the sickness bug that was sweeping through the hospital.

So what was the problem?

Things had been awkward between them ever since the night of the masked ball. The night when he’d taken her virginity. He still felt guilty about it; and as a result he’d probably been even more cool with her than she was being with him.

He really ought to have a chat with her and try to get things back on an even keel between them. Especially as he was the Assistant Head of Obstetrics now. There was absolutely no way they could get involved with each other; although he wasn’t directly her boss, he was her senior. Though it would be nice to salvage some kind of working relationship, so they were at least on semi-friendly terms in the department. He liked Ella. He missed the easiness between them.

As for anything more... Well, he’d told her the truth. He wasn’t a good bet when it came to relationships. Even though Ella was the one woman he thought might actually tempt him to try, it just couldn’t happen. It would all go wrong and wreck their working relationship for good.

He knew she’d be writing up her notes after her appointments, so he quickly typed out a message on the hospital’s internal email system.

We need to have a chat. Come and see me when you’re done today.

Before he hit ‘send’, he added ‘please’, so she’d know he wasn’t being cold and snooty with her. And hopefully they could sort things out.

* * *

We need to have a chat. Come and see me when you’re done today, please.

Oh, help. That sounded very formal and very ominous, Ella thought as she read the email at the end of her shift. Why did Oliver want to see her?

She hadn’t put a foot wrong in her job ever since she’d moved from London to Teddy’s eighteen months ago. But, now Oliver was Assistant Head of Obstetrics, he was bound to have read everyone’s file, to help him get a handle on the team and see where anyone might need more training. If he’d read her file, then he’d know that she’d only just scraped through her exams at university. Was this why he wanted to see her? Did this mean he was going to expect her to prove herself all over again?

Great. Just the thing to start off a Saturday evening. Not.

Dreading what he was going to say, she went to Oliver’s office. ‘You wanted to see me?’

He looked up from his desk. ‘Yes. Close the door, please.’

Now that was really worrying. Was he about to tell her that he was reorganising the team and there wasn’t a space for her? She couldn’t think why else he would reverse his usual open-door policy.

Adrenalin slid down her spine, and she did as he’d asked.

‘We need to talk,’ he said, gesturing to the chair opposite his.

‘Right.’ She sat down.

‘Coffee?’

Even the thought of it made her gag. She tried really hard to stop the reflex, using the trick her dentist had taught her last time she’d had to have an X-ray by making a fist of her left hand, squeezing her thumb with her fingers. Except it didn’t help and she still found herself gagging.

‘Are you all right, Ella?’ Oliver asked.

‘Mmm,’ she fibbed. ‘Maybe some water would help.’

He narrowed his eyes at her. ‘What aren’t you telling me?’

Oh, help. She wasn’t ready for this conversation. At all. And it made it worse that every time she looked at him, she remembered what it felt like to be in his arms. What it felt like to kiss him. What it felt like when his bare skin was sliding against hers...

And this wasn’t the time and the place for remembering that, either. ‘Why did you want to see me?’ she asked instead of answering his question. ‘Am I losing my job?’

‘Losing your job?’ Oliver looked surprised. ‘Of course not. Why would you think that?’

‘Your note was pretty ominous.’

He frowned. ‘It was meant to be polite.’

‘And you just asked me to close the door...’

‘I’m not sacking you, Ella, and this isn’t a disciplinary meeting, if that’s what you’re thinking.’ He raked a hand through his hair. ‘Things are a bit strained between us and I wanted to clear the air, that’s all. Look, let me grab you some water or some coffee, and we can—’ He stopped abruptly. ‘Ella, you’ve gone green. Are you quite sure you’re not going down with the sickness bug?’

‘I’m sure.’

‘Then what’s wrong?’

She couldn’t see her way out of this. She was going to have to tell him at some point, so it might as well be now. And she’d had all afternoon to think about how to tell him and still hadn’t come up with the right words. Maybe short and to the point would be the best option. ‘I’m pregnant,’ she said miserably.

* * *

Pregnant?

Oliver’s head spun and he actually had to shake his head physically to clear it.

Pregnant.

He’d been here before. With Justine. Except the baby hadn’t been his, because Justine had lied to him all along. He knew Ella was nothing like Justine; but the past still haunted him.

The last time those words had been said to him, he’d been just as shocked. The baby hadn’t been planned and he’d still been studying for his specialist exams. He hadn’t been ready for the extra responsibility of parenthood, but of course he’d done the right thing and stood by Justine. It was his duty.

And then, when Justine had finally told him the truth, he’d been let off the hook. Except by then he’d started to think of himself as a dad. Having that taken away from him had hurt even more than Justine’s betrayal. He’d been shocked by how isolated and lost he’d felt—and he’d sworn that never again would he let himself get emotionally involved or in a position where someone could hurt him like that.

Now here he was again, hearing a woman tell him that she was expecting his baby. Even though Ella came from a completely different background, and he’d worked with her for long enough to trust her on a lot of levels—the situation brought back all the hurt and mistrust.

‘How pregnant?’ he asked carefully.

‘My last period was the middle of October. I’m nearly three weeks late.’

‘Seven weeks, then,’ he said, calculating rapidly. They’d had unprotected sex on the night of the Hallowe’en ball. That would’ve been two weeks after the start of her last period, from what she’d just said. Which meant they’d had sex right in the middle of her cycle: the most fertile time.

And she’d been a virgin—something that made him feel guilty and protective of her at the same time. And which put all kind of inappropriate memories in his head: the way her voice had gone all husky with arousal, the way her pupils had gone wide and dark with desire, the way it had felt when he’d finally eased into her...

Oh, for pity’s sake. He couldn’t think of that now. She’d just told him she was pregnant.

Of course it was his baby. There was no question that it was anyone else’s baby. Everyone knew that Ella was completely devoted to her job—come to think of it, she hadn’t dated anyone since he’d known her.

Except for that one snatched evening with him. And he’d been the only man who’d ever shared her bed like that—with the ultimate closeness. Which made it special, because Ella wasn’t the sort to sleep around.

She looked anxious. ‘So you believe me?’

‘That you’re pregnant? Or that it’s mine? Obviously the dates tally. And, given the situation, it’s pretty obvious that the baby’s mine.’ He looked at her. ‘I assume you’ve done a test, to be this sure about it?’

She nodded. ‘Today.’

‘And you didn’t suspect anything before today?’

She frowned. ‘No.’

‘Even though your period was late?’

‘I put that down to stress,’ she said. ‘You know it’s been crazy round here, with so many people off sick, plus Sienna’s going off on maternity leave really soon and it’ll take Max a while to settle in properly. We’re all rushed off our feet.’

‘So what made you decide to do a test today?’ Then he remembered how she’d run out of his office, admitting afterwards that she’d felt a bit sick. He’d assumed she was going down with the bug. But it hadn’t been that at all. ‘You started getting morning sickness,’ he said, answering his own question.

She nodded. ‘I can’t bear the smell of strong aftershave and coffee. That’s what made me...’ She swallowed hard, obviously feeling queasy at just the thought of the scents.

He grabbed one of the bottles of water he kept in his desk drawer and pushed it across the desk at her. ‘Here.’

‘Thank you.’ She unscrewed the cap and took a sip of water. ‘Oliver, I didn’t mean this to happen. I wasn’t trying to trap you, or try to sleep my way up the ladder or anything like that. It wasn’t planned.’

‘Too right it wasn’t planned,’ he said grimly. He wasn’t angry with her, but he was furious with himself. Why hadn’t he taken proper responsibility when it came to precautions? More to the point, why had he made love with her in the first place, when he’d managed to keep his hands to himself and his libido under control for the last eighteen months? Why had he given into temptation that night, let the single glass of champagne he’d drunk go completely to his head and wipe out his inhibitions enough to let him kiss her and take her to bed?

Though he really wasn’t prepared to answer those questions right now.

Instead, to cover up his guilt and confusion, he snapped at her. ‘So what was it? The Pill didn’t work?’

She flinched. ‘I’m not on the Pill.’

What? He could hardly believe what he was hearing. ‘You led me to believe you were.’ So, in a way, she’d been as devious as Justine. Clearly his judgement was incredibly poor when it came to relationships.

‘I didn’t say I was on the Pill.’

‘You hinted at it.’ He remembered it very clearly. ‘You said I didn’t need a condom. Why would you say that unless you were taking the Pill?’

‘Well, that lets you very nicely off the hook, doesn’t it? Because it’s all my fault. That’s fine. I accept the entire blame for the situation.’ She screwed the cap back on the water bottle. ‘Don’t worry, Mr Darrington, I’m not expecting anything from you. I just thought you had the right to know about the baby.’ She stood up. ‘I’m officially off duty right now, so I’m going home.’

‘Wait. Ella.’ He blew out a breath. ‘You’ve just told me you’re expecting my baby. At least give me time to process the news. And what do you mean, you’re not expecting anything from me? As the baby’s father, of course I’ll support you financially.’ Just as he’d supported Justine when he’d thought that she was pregnant with his baby. A Darrington always did the right thing.

‘I don’t want your money.’

‘Tough. Because I have no intention of letting you go through this unsupported and on your own.’ He stared at her. One thing he was very sure about: this time he wasn’t going to have fatherhood snatched away from him. This time he was exercising his rights, and he was going to have choices. ‘It’s my baby, too, Ella. So that means I get a say. In everything.’

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