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The Pregnancy Affair
     

The Pregnancy Affair

3.8 8
by Anne Mather
 

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The last person Olivia expected to see when she returned to her hometown was her ruggedly handsome ex-husband. Joel Armstrong was the reason she'd stayed away so long. The breakup of their marriage had been swift, but the scars were raw.
Searing desire still flared between them. But how could they indulge it again…when their passion had led to an unexpected

Overview

The last person Olivia expected to see when she returned to her hometown was her ruggedly handsome ex-husband. Joel Armstrong was the reason she'd stayed away so long. The breakup of their marriage had been swift, but the scars were raw.
Searing desire still flared between them. But how could they indulge it again…when their passion had led to an unexpected pregnancy, with an equally unexpected twist?

Product Details

ISBN-13:
9781460393215
Publisher:
Harlequin
Publication date:
08/17/2015
Sold by:
HARLEQUIN
Format:
NOOK Book
Sales rank:
343,642
File size:
360 KB

Read an Excerpt

The sign informing passengers to Fasten Seat Belts flashed on above Olivia's head and she automatically reached to check that her belt was in place.
"We'll be landing at Newcastle International Airport in fifteen minutes," the saccharine- sweet voice of the flight attendant announced smoothly. "Please ensure that all your hand luggage is put away in the overhead lockers and that your tray tables are securely stowed."
The aircraft dipped to begin its approach to the airport and Olivia's stomach lurched in protest. But it wasn't the amount of coffee she'd consumed that morning that was giving her such a sickly feeling. It was the knowledge that she was returning to Bridgeford after so many years that was tying her stomach in knots.
The landing was swift and uneventful. The airport was busy and the plane taxied efficiently to its unloading bay as passengers and crew alike began gathering their belongings together. There was little chit-chat. This was primarily a business flight, most of the passengers either on or returning from business trips, with only a handful of holidaymakers to make up the numbers.
Olivia's trip was neither business nor pleasure, she thought, and she wasn't at all sure she was doing the right thing by coming here. She doubted her father would want to see her, whatever reassurances her sister had given her, and there'd be no sympathetic shoulder for someone who'd messed up her life, not just once, but twice.
Still, it was too late to have second thoughts now. The plane had come to a complete standstill, the door was open, and her fellow passengers were all jostling to be first to alight. Eventually, of course, she had to get up andfollow them. She should have worn flats, she thought as her ridiculously high heels caught in the metal of the stairway. But pride was a stubborn companion and Olivia was determined not to appear as desperate as she felt.
A short walk across the tarmac and she was in the terminal buildings, offering her passport for inspection and lining up to collect her suitcase from the carousel. She'd only brought one suitcase, leaving the rest of her belongings in storage in London. Because that was where she was going to find herself an apartment, she told herself firmly. This trip to Bridgeford was just to prove to herself—and her family—that she wasn't afraid to come back.
Her suitcase was one of the first to appear and Olivia pulled a wry face as she hauled it off the carousel. OK, she thought, it was time to face the music. Linda, her sister, had said she would come to meet her. Which was a relief. She was likely to be the least-judgemental of the family.
Beyond the doors, a crowd of people was waiting to greet the passengers, many of them carrying name boards to identify themselves. One thing, Olivia thought drily, there was no way she wouldn't recognise Linda. Whether Linda would recognise her was another thing altogether.
And then she stopped dead in her tracks, the suitcase she was towing behind her running on into the backs of her legs. But she hardly noticed the bump or the momentary discomfort it gave her. She was staring at the man who was standing at the back of the crowd of people, and, although she couldn't believe it, it seemed he was waiting for her.
She glanced quickly behind her, half convinced he wasn't looking at her at all but at some other person who'd followed her through the doors. But there was no one immediately behind her, no one else to coincide with his line of vision.
And then, to confirm her disbelief, he moved towards her, pushing his way through the waiting mob to fetch up by her side. "Hi," he said, taking the handle of the suitcase from her unresisting hand. "D'you have a good journey?"
Olivia stared at him blankly. "What are you doing here?" she asked, aware that it probably wasn't the politest thing to say in the circumstances, but she couldn't help it. If she'd been anxious on the plane, she was a hundred times more nervous now. Her heart was pounding, the blood rushing through her veins like wildfire. What the hell was Joel Armstrong doing here? She'd have expected him to avoid her like the plague. "Wh-where's Linda?"
If he noticed the stammer, he gave no sign of it. "At home," he replied evenly, and because he started walking away from her, she was obliged to follow him. "Your father's having a bad day," he continued. "She thought it would be wiser not to leave him alone."
Olivia blinked. She could have said all her father ever had were bad days in her estimation, but she didn't. She was too busy trying to keep up with his long strides. Trying to ally herself, too, to the man who was walking beside her. Fifteen years ago, he'd been little more than a boy. Now he was a man.
And what a man, she thought, permitting herself a covert look in his direction. he'd always been tall, but now he'd filled out, the shoulders of the leather jacket he was wearing owing nothing to padding she was sure. A lean jawline showed just the trace of a five o'clock shadow, while his unruly dark hair was shorter than she remembered, exposing the handsome shape of his skull.
Not that handsome described him exactly. His youthful good looks had given way to a harsher profile altogether. Fans of lighter skin flared from the corners of his cool grey eyes, while deeper ridges framed the narrow-lipped beauty of his mouth.
God, he was attractive, Olivia thought, feeling a pang of awareness she'd never expected to feel again. It hardly seemed possible that they'd once been married. Had she really allowed a sense of pride to rule her reason? Would things have been different if she'd chosen to stay and fight?
She stumbled as they stepped out into the watery sunshine of an April day. It had been cool in London, but it was amazingly mild here. As Joel turned at her muffled exclamation, she regretted the urge she'd had to dress up for the journey. She'd wanted Linda to envy her her trim figure and designer clothes. She'd even chosen the shortest skirt in her wardrobe to show off the slender length of her legs. As for how much it had cost to have the ash-blonde highlights in her honey-brown hair renewed— She must have been crazy to think anyone would care.
"You OK?" Joel asked now and she nodded automatically.
"I'm fine," she said quickly. "Where are you parked?"
"Not far away," he responded, slowing his pace a little. "Be grateful it's not raining. It was earlier."
Olivia pulled a face, but she refused to answer him. Dammit, here they were, meeting one another after fifteen years, and all he could talk about was the weather. Why was she feeling so tongue-tied suddenly, when he was obviously quite at ease with her?
Whatever had happened to him in the last fifteen years had definitely changed him. And for the better, she mused. he'd left school at eighteen and, despite getting excellent results, he'd gone to work for her father. he'd wanted to marry her and they'd done so as soon as she was eighteen. Everyone had expected it would last, even Joel. Or at least she'd thought that was what he'd believed. Looking at him now, she was beginning to wonder if that was just another of her many mistakes.
"So—how are you?" she managed at last, relieved when they turned between the aisles of parked cars. Surely it wouldn't be much further. "It's been a long time."
"Hasn't it just?"he agreed, a faintly mocking twist to his mouth as he looked at her and Olivia knew damn well he'd never looked at her like that before. It was as if she amused him. "You seem OK," he added. "I guess living in the States agrees with you."
It didn't, actually, Olivia was tempted to respond, but that had had more to do with the man she'd been living with than with the country itself.
Joel stopped behind a huge four-wheel-drive and juggled his keys out of his pocket. Flipping open the rear door, he stowed Olivia's suitcase in the back and then went round and opened the passenger door.
Olivia was still admiring the vehicle, its mud-splattered wing in no way detracting from its sleek appearance. Was this Joel's or her father's? she wondered uncertainly. Whosever it was, things at the farm must definitely be looking up.
"Nice car," she said, and wished he wasn't watching her get in. The seat was high and her skirt rode up to her bottom as she levered herself onto it. And she was fairly sure Joel was suppressing another of those mocking smiles.
"I like it," he said, without expression. He walked around the bonnet and climbed in beside her, the high seat offering no obstacle to his long legs. "All set?"
"As I'll ever be," said Olivia tartly, not seeing why he should have it all his own way. Then, as his hands gripped the wheel, she noticed the wedding ring on his third finger. Not the ring she'd given him, she realised, but a much more expensive band altogether. Her stomach tightened unpleasantly. "Are you married?"

Meet the Author

Anne Mather always wanted to write. For years she wrote only for her own pleasure, and it wasn’t until her husband suggested that she ought to send one of her stories to a publisher that they put several publishers’ names into a hat and pulled one out. The rest as they say in history. 150 books later, Anne is literally staggered by the result! Her email address is mystic-am@msn.com and she would be happy to hear from any of her readers.

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The Pregnancy Affair (Harlequin Presents #2629) 3.9 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 8 reviews.
Kats56 More than 1 year ago
This is a good quick read. I love Anne Mather books.
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