It Started With A Pregnancy. Christy Jeffries

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It Started With A Pregnancy - Christy Jeffries Mills & Boon True Love

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her shoulders, Rebekah commanded her body to get itself together. This reaction must be some sort of pregnancy-induced hormonal imbalance.

      Not that she was exactly mother material herself, but Grant was the complete opposite of the type of guy she would choose to father her baby. What made things even more unbearable was the way his elderly aunts doted on him and acted as if he’d hung the moon, making his job down in Jacksonville sound like the most important career in the world. In reality, he worked for a tech company that encouraged beach days and flexible hours and spontaneous yoga sessions in their cubicle-free environment. While some might describe him as easygoing and charming, to Rebekah, Grant seemed like one of those men who’d never really grown up. Maybe it was because she’d yet to see him dressed in a shirt with a collar.

      Or a shirt that didn’t highlight his strong, broad shoulders.

      As she stared at the faded logo on the soft cotton tee stretched across his muscular chest, she ignored the desire curling inside her and wondered for the hundredth time this morning how she’d ended up in this situation with this man, of all people.

      Because he was sexy as hell. That’s how.

      “Rebekah.” Grant finally rose to his feet before walking over to stand in front of her. When she ducked her head to avoid those piercing eyes, he softly placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face to meet his gaze. “I won’t say a word to anyone until we get the green light from the doctor.”

      All she could manage was a slight nod and a slow release of air from her too-tight lungs. She didn’t want to talk about green lights or anything else with him until she had a concrete plan in place.

      A plan that most likely wouldn’t involve her spending any more time with Grant Whitaker.

      * * *

      Standing face-to-face, Grant didn’t immediately remove his hand from the curve of Rebekah’s cheek as he studied her resigned expression.

      It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her. Despite the fact that he doubted she would’ve told him about the pregnancy quite so soon if she hadn’t nervously knocked over that bag, he did believe she was honest and honorable. But there was something about the woman that always threw him off-balance. Something that she kept locked up tight behind the professional clothes and the detailed financial reports and the organized meeting notes she always passed off to his aunts, who would inadvertently leave the meticulously typed documents behind in the kennel of a sick Labrador or under a pallet of kitty-litter bags. In fact, while he’d been waiting for Rebekah in the parking lot this morning, he’d wandered over to the stables and found one of the llamas eating the cell tower proposal that Rebekah had drafted for a city council meeting.

      Rebekah was nothing if not thorough. Which made it difficult for him to believe that she hadn’t already formulated a specific course of action.

      Eventually, she took a step back, forcing his hand to drop as she pivoted to rearrange some papers on her desk. Without making eye contact, she began to speak. “Well, I appreciate you stopping by and...you know...”

      “Bringing you your keys?” he suggested, not about to let her simply dismiss him without some sort of confirmation that she would be in contact with him soon. “Oh, and for offering my unflagging support at the doctor’s appointment as well as with any decisions that need to be made?”

      “Are you hoping for a certain decision, Grant?” Even from this side view, he could see her shoulders square off as though she was preparing for battle. So it was no surprise when she fully faced him with the dimples in her cheeks completely hidden as she forced out a heavy breath. “Perhaps one that lets you off the hook?”

      For the first time in his life, he felt completely unequipped to handle the situation before him. Grant was the problem solver in his family, the one who dropped everything to help those who needed him. However, the determined line of Rebekah’s clenched jaw suggested that she didn’t want his assistance in solving this problem.

      Not that her being pregnant was a problem, he corrected himself as he rolled his shoulders backward to loosen the tense muscles.

      He carefully thought about his next words. “Actually, if the decision were up to me, I’d have a house full of kids.”

      Her perfectly arched brows shot nearly to her hairline, and before she could open her mouth, he already knew what she was thinking.

      “Not that I would have purposely gotten you pregnant!” The words tumbled out of his mouth defensively and his right hand lifted as though he were swearing a solemn oath.

      “Shhh!” Her eyes darted right past him and toward the reception desk. From outside the office, he could hear a door opening and what sounded like a couple of volunteers discussing last night’s episode of Top Chef.

      He lowered his voice. “I’m just stating for the record that none of this was my intent. In fact, I even used that hot-pink condom that left glitter all over my...”

      She immediately clapped her hand to his mouth.

      He mumbled more words behind her palm, but she didn’t remove it. So he did what any man would do when presented with a beautiful woman’s skin so close to his lips. He kissed the sensitive spot right between her thumb and forefinger.

      Rebekah yanked her palm back and her eyes narrowed into a warning glance. Her voice came out in a fierce whisper. “Well, at least I had...protection.”

      Her implication hung in the air between them.

      “Listen, I’m sorry for not being better prepared.” It was an odd feeling, being on the defensive like this, and for a moment it was difficult for him to get the words out. “As much as you might want to think otherwise, I usually don’t go home with—”

      “Grant,” Aunt Bunny interrupted as she swept into the office. Rebekah jumped away from him so quickly, he heard a thunk against her desk. The sweet older woman glanced down at his preferred beach attire. “I wasn’t expecting you this early. Were the waves too small to hold your interest this morning?”

      “You know me too well, Aunt Bunny.” Grant lifted his arms and shrugged his shoulders. “When I saw that the surf was under two feet, I caught an earlier flight into Raleigh–Durham and figured I’d rent a car and swing by to go over the marketing plans for the upcoming adoption events.”

      Bunny’s attention turned to Rebekah, who was holding herself so rigidly she could’ve been one of his surfboards. Except with many more curves. Did it make him a bad person to want to pull the sexy and stiff woman close to him and run his hands along her waist and over her full hips until she relaxed and melted in his arms?

      His normally absentminded aunt might tend to pay more attention to animals of the four-legged variety than she did to humans, but her eyes were uncharacteristically sharp as her glance bounced back and forth between Grant and Rebekah. Finally, Bunny asked, “Where are they?”

      “Where are what?” Grant sidestepped around the upholstered chair, pivoting his body in the hopes of blocking Bunny’s view of the empty pharmacy bag threatening to fall off Rebekah’s desk again. He had to command his own eyes not to scan the room for the prenatal vitamins.

      “Your marketing plans?” His aunt lifted a thin gray brow.

      “Oh. On my laptop,” Grant replied, hoping she wouldn’t

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