Read Online Pregnant with a Royal Baby! by Susan Meier - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Susan Meier
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exactly need help. I just love your opinions.”
Her mom said, “Even better.” Then she faced Joshua and Sally, both of whom had risen. “And you must be Sally and Joshua.”
Sally bowed slightly. Joshua said, “She’s actually very clear about what she wants. I think she just needs your reassurance.”
“Joshua, Sally, this is my mother, Rose Jones.”
Ginny’s mom smiled broadly. Her pretty blond hair had a hint of pink in it, because—well, she was a Texas girl, who’d grown up dancing to the Beach Boys and riding horses, and that crazy part of her had no intention of dying. “Let me see the designers and the dresses.”
Joshua immediately handed over the photo array panels, but Ginny stepped away and slid around to the back of the couch where Dom stood.
He raised his eyebrows in question. “What?”
“You told my mom I needed help?”
He shook his head. “No, I called her and said I wanted you to be happy planning this wedding.”
The sweetness of the gesture filled her heart. “I would have been okay.”
“And the wedding would have looked fake.”
This time the reminder that he didn’t want the wedding to look fake didn’t go through her like a knife. It was their deal. He’d always been up-front about their deal.
The crazy feeling she got around nice Dom morphed into something soft and happy. “We’re going to have a beautiful wedding.”
He smiled. “Yes, we are.”
The air between them changed. For a few seconds, she debated springing to her tiptoes and hugging him, but that wasn’t really acceptable, either.
Holding his gaze, she took a step back, then another, suddenly realizing why she kept getting odd nudges. After decades of surface relationships that she’d ended before she even knew the guy she was involved with, she’d managed to never really know anyone, never get beyond platitudes. But planning a fake wedding? Living in the same apartment with Dom? Coconspirators to protect their child? She was getting to know him. And she liked him. A lot more than she’d ever liked any man.
And he’d warned her not to spin a fairy-tale fantasy because he didn’t want a marriage with emotion.
CHAPTER SIX
T WO DAYS LATER , Dom strode down the marble-floored hall to the double doors of his apartment. Since Rose had arrived, his home had become like a beehive. Where Ginny might be shy about creating a wardrobe, Rose had taken to the task as if she was born to it. Designers had been called in. Dresses and pants arrived for fittings. Two styles of wedding dresses had been chosen and Alfredo Larenzo, an Italian designer, had been hired to create them.
With a wince, he partially opened one of the two double doors, sticking his head in far enough to see into the living room. Which was, mercifully, empty. For a second, he hoped that Ginny and her mom had gone out for lunch, but his chest pinched. Since Rose had arrived, he’d also barely seen Ginny.
Not that he missed her. He didn’t really know her. They were in a fake situation. There was nothing to miss. The thing was, he liked seeing her. Usually, she was funny. After four-hour sessions in parliament, funny was welcome. So he didn’t miss her. He missed her silliness.
Comfortable with that assessment, he walked past the double sofas, over to the bar. When he turned to pour his Scotch, he saw the door to Ginny’s suite door was open. And there she stood, in little pink panties and a pink lace bra. A short man wearing spectacles and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows had a tape measure around her hips. Her mom stood with her back to the door, obviously supervising.
Dom stared. He’d forgotten how perfect she was. With full breasts, a sweet dip for a waist and hips that flared just enough for a man to run his hand along, she had what most men would consider a perfect figure.
The short, dark-haired guy raised the tape measure to her waist and Dom followed every movement of the man’s hands, remembering the
Her mom said, “Even better.” Then she faced Joshua and Sally, both of whom had risen. “And you must be Sally and Joshua.”
Sally bowed slightly. Joshua said, “She’s actually very clear about what she wants. I think she just needs your reassurance.”
“Joshua, Sally, this is my mother, Rose Jones.”
Ginny’s mom smiled broadly. Her pretty blond hair had a hint of pink in it, because—well, she was a Texas girl, who’d grown up dancing to the Beach Boys and riding horses, and that crazy part of her had no intention of dying. “Let me see the designers and the dresses.”
Joshua immediately handed over the photo array panels, but Ginny stepped away and slid around to the back of the couch where Dom stood.
He raised his eyebrows in question. “What?”
“You told my mom I needed help?”
He shook his head. “No, I called her and said I wanted you to be happy planning this wedding.”
The sweetness of the gesture filled her heart. “I would have been okay.”
“And the wedding would have looked fake.”
This time the reminder that he didn’t want the wedding to look fake didn’t go through her like a knife. It was their deal. He’d always been up-front about their deal.
The crazy feeling she got around nice Dom morphed into something soft and happy. “We’re going to have a beautiful wedding.”
He smiled. “Yes, we are.”
The air between them changed. For a few seconds, she debated springing to her tiptoes and hugging him, but that wasn’t really acceptable, either.
Holding his gaze, she took a step back, then another, suddenly realizing why she kept getting odd nudges. After decades of surface relationships that she’d ended before she even knew the guy she was involved with, she’d managed to never really know anyone, never get beyond platitudes. But planning a fake wedding? Living in the same apartment with Dom? Coconspirators to protect their child? She was getting to know him. And she liked him. A lot more than she’d ever liked any man.
And he’d warned her not to spin a fairy-tale fantasy because he didn’t want a marriage with emotion.
CHAPTER SIX
T WO DAYS LATER , Dom strode down the marble-floored hall to the double doors of his apartment. Since Rose had arrived, his home had become like a beehive. Where Ginny might be shy about creating a wardrobe, Rose had taken to the task as if she was born to it. Designers had been called in. Dresses and pants arrived for fittings. Two styles of wedding dresses had been chosen and Alfredo Larenzo, an Italian designer, had been hired to create them.
With a wince, he partially opened one of the two double doors, sticking his head in far enough to see into the living room. Which was, mercifully, empty. For a second, he hoped that Ginny and her mom had gone out for lunch, but his chest pinched. Since Rose had arrived, he’d also barely seen Ginny.
Not that he missed her. He didn’t really know her. They were in a fake situation. There was nothing to miss. The thing was, he liked seeing her. Usually, she was funny. After four-hour sessions in parliament, funny was welcome. So he didn’t miss her. He missed her silliness.
Comfortable with that assessment, he walked past the double sofas, over to the bar. When he turned to pour his Scotch, he saw the door to Ginny’s suite door was open. And there she stood, in little pink panties and a pink lace bra. A short man wearing spectacles and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows had a tape measure around her hips. Her mom stood with her back to the door, obviously supervising.
Dom stared. He’d forgotten how perfect she was. With full breasts, a sweet dip for a waist and hips that flared just enough for a man to run his hand along, she had what most men would consider a perfect figure.
The short, dark-haired guy raised the tape measure to her waist and Dom followed every movement of the man’s hands, remembering the
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