Read Online A Baby on Her Christmas List by Louisa George - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Louisa George
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want.’
She wanted him to be happy about the baby
—
the single most important thing, and which he’d hardly mentioned. That was all. Well, and to hold her again. Possibly kiss her. Make out, maybe... But that would be a wish too far.
‘
What do you want, Liam?’
‘To make sure you’re safe, crazy lady. That’s all.’
As he peered through the dust and grime he scratched his head, fluffing his short dark hair into little tufts.
‘Bloody hell, Georgie. It’s worse than I imagined
.’
He stepped in, walked across the floor, leaving large thick footprints in the grey film that coated everything.
‘
What the hell have you done?’
She hid a smile as she followed him into the house where she’d half knocked through the wall, making her downstairs pretty much open-plan. She had grand plans for this room, plans she’d been aching to share with someone. Him, mainly.
And even though she’d been beyond angry with him for the last couple of months, it was good to be able to see him
—
through her one useful eye
—
and talk to him. Because she’d been honest when she’d said she’d missed him.
She hadn’t expected to have those strange feelings rattling through her again, though. She’d put it down to a cluster of hormones, but when he’d held her, cradling her head like she was something very precious, her heart had done a little leap. More, her body had started to hum with something dangerous. It was a bad idea, having him in her space. ‘Personally, I think it’s looking great. That old partition wall made everything dark and dingy. Just needs a little bit of cosmetic work and it’ll be fine.’
‘Plus finishing off. Cornices, a new floor.’ He tapped along what remained of the plasterboard wall. ‘You go and sit down in the lounge, if you can find the sofa under all this mess. I’ll finish this off, clear up, then sort out something to eat.’
‘You’re hardly dressed for it.’
He looked down at his ex-army fatigues. ‘They’re old. I don’t care. You just sit tight. That is, Miss Independent, if you know how to let someone else do the work.’ He picked up the hammer and his forearms tightened. Capable hands, plus mussed-up hair already, and he hadn’t even lifted a finger. How was she going to cope?
For a few minutes she lay back on her couch, closed her eyes and let relaxation take hold. It was lovely to lie there, listening to the crash of the hammer. The crumble of plaster, his deep male grunts as he swung and hit. He worked for a while then there was silence.
It stretched.
Suddenly interested in what was happening
—
or not
—
Georgie opened her eye and peered across the settling dust.
Oh, good Lord
. Her stomach contracted as she inhaled a mouth full of dust. He’d taken off his shirt and was now measuring across the space with an industrial tape measure. Defined muscles stretched and contracted as he moved. Tight abs ridged down to his trouser waistband, a sexy smattering of dark hair pointed to a promised land. The man had no business looking like that, all sunburnt and muscular and just too damned hot. She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. Her throat was tight. Her breathing came quick and fast.
Staring was rude.
She reclosed her eye.
No good.
She wanted to look again. It was like watching bad reality TV: she knew she shouldn’t watch, but she couldn’t help herself. The man was gorgeous. And, heck, she’d always known what his body was like. Days spent with him at the beach had had little effect on her in the past. But now... Wow. He’d developed strength and solidity and muscles. Filled out into those broad shoulders. Her body hummed with need.
He turned to face her. ‘You okay? You need anything?’
Not the kind of thing he’d want to give her. ‘I’m just fine, thanks. But I wanted to let you know I’m sorry that you left and we’d fallen out. I was worried about you, you know, the whole time.’
He winked at her. ‘Forgiven. Just about. I hate this
She wanted him to be happy about the baby
—
the single most important thing, and which he’d hardly mentioned. That was all. Well, and to hold her again. Possibly kiss her. Make out, maybe... But that would be a wish too far.
‘
What do you want, Liam?’
‘To make sure you’re safe, crazy lady. That’s all.’
As he peered through the dust and grime he scratched his head, fluffing his short dark hair into little tufts.
‘Bloody hell, Georgie. It’s worse than I imagined
.’
He stepped in, walked across the floor, leaving large thick footprints in the grey film that coated everything.
‘
What the hell have you done?’
She hid a smile as she followed him into the house where she’d half knocked through the wall, making her downstairs pretty much open-plan. She had grand plans for this room, plans she’d been aching to share with someone. Him, mainly.
And even though she’d been beyond angry with him for the last couple of months, it was good to be able to see him
—
through her one useful eye
—
and talk to him. Because she’d been honest when she’d said she’d missed him.
She hadn’t expected to have those strange feelings rattling through her again, though. She’d put it down to a cluster of hormones, but when he’d held her, cradling her head like she was something very precious, her heart had done a little leap. More, her body had started to hum with something dangerous. It was a bad idea, having him in her space. ‘Personally, I think it’s looking great. That old partition wall made everything dark and dingy. Just needs a little bit of cosmetic work and it’ll be fine.’
‘Plus finishing off. Cornices, a new floor.’ He tapped along what remained of the plasterboard wall. ‘You go and sit down in the lounge, if you can find the sofa under all this mess. I’ll finish this off, clear up, then sort out something to eat.’
‘You’re hardly dressed for it.’
He looked down at his ex-army fatigues. ‘They’re old. I don’t care. You just sit tight. That is, Miss Independent, if you know how to let someone else do the work.’ He picked up the hammer and his forearms tightened. Capable hands, plus mussed-up hair already, and he hadn’t even lifted a finger. How was she going to cope?
For a few minutes she lay back on her couch, closed her eyes and let relaxation take hold. It was lovely to lie there, listening to the crash of the hammer. The crumble of plaster, his deep male grunts as he swung and hit. He worked for a while then there was silence.
It stretched.
Suddenly interested in what was happening
—
or not
—
Georgie opened her eye and peered across the settling dust.
Oh, good Lord
. Her stomach contracted as she inhaled a mouth full of dust. He’d taken off his shirt and was now measuring across the space with an industrial tape measure. Defined muscles stretched and contracted as he moved. Tight abs ridged down to his trouser waistband, a sexy smattering of dark hair pointed to a promised land. The man had no business looking like that, all sunburnt and muscular and just too damned hot. She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. Her throat was tight. Her breathing came quick and fast.
Staring was rude.
She reclosed her eye.
No good.
She wanted to look again. It was like watching bad reality TV: she knew she shouldn’t watch, but she couldn’t help herself. The man was gorgeous. And, heck, she’d always known what his body was like. Days spent with him at the beach had had little effect on her in the past. But now... Wow. He’d developed strength and solidity and muscles. Filled out into those broad shoulders. Her body hummed with need.
He turned to face her. ‘You okay? You need anything?’
Not the kind of thing he’d want to give her. ‘I’m just fine, thanks. But I wanted to let you know I’m sorry that you left and we’d fallen out. I was worried about you, you know, the whole time.’
He winked at her. ‘Forgiven. Just about. I hate this
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