Prognosis Baby Daddy - Amy Andrews Page 0,7

a warm, loving and supportive mother. She was affectionate. And also obviously worried about Ben.

As far as motherly role models went, Katya figured you couldn’t get any more exemplary. But her? What role model did she have? What examples did she have to draw on, even subconsciously, to raise this baby right?

None.

From the age of eight she’d been the mother in their house. Had raised four siblings while her mother went out. She knew enough about psychology to know that such cycles were too often repeated, and she was scared she’d fail. And she couldn’t risk a child’s life on it.

And, frankly, at twenty-seven, she was all mothered out.

Finally hearing some movement downstairs. She showered and dressed quickly, zipping up her bag and carrying it with her, leaving it at the front door as she headed towards the kitchen.

Ben looked up from his coffee as she entered and gave her one of his killer smiles. ‘Buongiorno, Katya.’

Katya faltered a little. He looked very sexy this morning, sitting at the table like he was king of the castle. His hair was damp and his shirt was open at the throat, giving her a peek of the tanned column of his neck and a hint of chest hair. His brown eyes glowed warm and rich and tempting.

‘You don’t look like you slept very well.’

This man was too damn perceptive by half. ‘Well, that’s because I kept expecting to turn back into a pumpkin.’

Ben threw his head back and laughed. ‘You think this is a fairytale?’ He pushed a plate of sweet pastries her way and poured her a shot of espresso.

No. Fairytales had happy endings and Katya knew that for her there would be no happily-ever-after. But if she could secure one for her baby then she could rest easy knowing she had given it the best chance in life.

‘I think you live a pretty charmed life,’ said Katya, sitting and biting gratefully into a fruit-filled croissant with a sticky glaze.

Ben paused, his cup halfway to his mouth. He bit his lip to prevent a derisive snort from escaping his throat. He’d stopped feeling charmed a long time ago. About the time his older brother had stolen his fiancé. Katya’s assumptions about his life goaded him to respond. If that was the way she still thought of him after their night together then so be it.

‘Is there something wrong with that, Katya?’

His voice was soft and silky, the hint of flint in it scraping seductively over Katya’s skin and she paused mid-chew. Her breath caught in her chest at the intensity of his gaze. He seemed to be searching her soul, looking for the answer he wanted. Her nipples beaded against the lacy fabric of her bra at the frank hunger in his eyes.

She shrugged. ‘If you consider living in the lap of luxury and pandering to the hedonistic lifestyle of the rich and famous at your clinic a worthwhile way to spend your time then who am I to say?’

Ben bit back the urge to set her straight. She could judge him at her own peril. ‘Oh, come, now, Katya, don’t tell me you could turn your back on all this? In fact, I could show you a really good time while you’re here. Are you sure you don’t want to pick up where we left off?’

Katya wasn’t sure where this conversation was heading or even what it was really about any more. There was a dangerous glitter to his eyes. Gone was the teasing, flirty Ben. He looked every inch the aristocrat. A little ruthless and exceedingly virile.

She didn’t know this man at all.

Swallowing, Katya ignored both the edge and seduction in his voice. ‘Strictly business, Ben. I meant what I said.’ She forced her voice to be firm despite the quaking inside.

‘Are you sure, cara?’ he purred. ‘We were good.’

Ben’s soft, deep voice held her captivated. It had been good. Very, very good. ‘It was a mistake,’ she said, dismayed to hear the words coming out all husky.

Despite that, she swore she caught a slight flinch. He covered for it quickly with, ‘It could be fun, Katya Petrova.’

Her eyes widened at the promise in his words. Now, that would be a first. Since when had life been just pure fun?

Stop this, Katya. Only the baby mattered now.

‘I’m not the fun type.’ Brushing the flaky crumbs of pastry from her hand, she swallowed her espresso in one hit and stood. ‘Shouldn’t we be going?’

Ben chuckled, shrugging off the darkness she