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Now it was Blake’s laughter filling the space between them. “Marry me.”
Her smiled died faster than it had ignited, falling from her mouth. She stared back at him, eyebrows drawing slightly closer together. “I think I misheard you.”
“Look,” he said, spreading his hands wide as he watched her. “If you married someone like me, you would have access to the best medical treatments, and you could stay in New York without any worries.”
She did a slow nod. “Funnily enough I’ve been joking with my friends for weeks that I need to find a wealthy husband. Not that I would ever be some kind of gold digger,” she added quickly. “I’m used to having a successful career and standing on my own two feet.”
Blake shrugged. “What if we did it? If we got married so you could stay in New York? I could pay for any specialist treatment you need to get you dancing again.”
Her gaze was uncertain, maybe even cool. He couldn’t figure out exactly what she thought now that her smile had disappeared. “I know why it would be good for me, I just don’t get why you’d want to do it. What’s in it for you? Why would you want to help me?”
“Marriage to a beautiful ballerina?” he suggested.
“Blake, I’m serious. Why would you marry me unless there’s something in it for you?”
Married for
Their Miracle Baby
Soraya Lane
As a child, SORAYA LANE dreamed of becoming an author. Fast-forward a few years, and Soraya is now living her dream! She describes being an author as “the best job in the world.” She lives with her own real-life hero and two young sons on a small farm in New Zealand, surrounded by animals, with an office overlooking a field where their horses graze.
For more information about Soraya, her books and her writing life, visit www.sorayalane.com.
For my mother, Maureen.
Thank you for everything.
Contents
BLAKE GOLDSMITH TOOK a slow sip of whiskey, enjoying the burn of the straight liquor as he swallowed. He wasn’t a big drinker, but he’d fast developed a taste for whiskey on the rocks to help get him through the torturous task of attending cocktail parties and gala events. He gazed down at the ice sitting forlorn in the glass. Darn. He either had to go without or brave the crowd mingling near the bar again. Neither option appealed to him right now.
Instead he decided to stretch his legs and head outside. If anyone stopped him, he could blame his departure on needing some fresh air. As soon as the auction was over, he was heading home anyway. He craved the solitude of flying, the closeness of being with his unit when he was serving. If he had half the chance, he’d be hightailing it to wherever they were stationed and not coming back. If only that were an option.
“Excuse me,” he muttered, touching a woman’s elbow as he passed, eyes downcast so he didn’t have to engage.
After a while, everyone started to look the same—a sea of black tuxedos and white shirts mixed with elegant women in sparkly dresses. He should have been used to it by now, but playing the black sheep turned good wasn’t a part he’d ever wanted, and neither was being part of glittering society parties.
Wow. Blake squared his shoulders, stood a little straighter as he stared across the room. She was standing alone, back to the large windows that overlooked a twinkling New York City below. Her dark red hair was loose and falling over her shoulders, lipstick bright in contrast to her pale skin. She was like a perfectly formed doll, her posture perfect, one hand holding a full glass of champagne, the other clasping a tiny purse. In a room where all the women were starting to look scarily similar with their perfectly coiffed updos and black dresses, she was like the breath of fresh air he’d been
