Page 37 of Daring the Bad Boy

That initial headfirst plunge into love had been followed by whirlwind trips together to Paris and Amsterdam and Bermuda, a gallery opening in New York, when Cal had been exhibiting more photos he’d taken of her – this time without her trusty sheet. She’d been fated as his muse and nearly died of embarrassment, but Cal had made it up to her that night in their suite at the Plaza. And even more thoroughly the following morning.

They’d even visited Cal’s old home town together and Rosie had met his ‘other father’, Hal Decker – a thoughtful man who shared Cal’s intensity as well as his chocolate brown eyes. Thinking of the two of them together now – Cal a little tense, a lot wary, his biological father proud and persuasive, and keen to deepen their relationship – helped to calm the tangle of nerves in Rosie’s stomach.

Surely Cal wouldn’t freak out at her news. He’d struggled for so long to understand his own family ties, and had told her himself in their motel on the outskirts of West Daley, the night after she’d met his biological father, that he’d discovered how much family meant since they’d started dating.

She smiled inwardly. He wasn’t the only one who’d discovered new things about themselves. The last year hadn’t just been a blur of lavish, romantic getaways, poignant trips into Cal’s past, industrious work, carefree play and epic sex, it had also been a learning experience. Most importantly, she’d made the startling discovery that with Cal at her side she could become the bold, bright, and resilient woman she’d always wanted to be. Brave enough to fight her own demons and win.

Take the decision to move into Cal’s apartment in Clerkenwell six weeks ago. Being typically determined, Cal had suggested she move in about a month after they’d started dating properly – and eventually begun a concerted campaign to get what he wanted, his reasons ranging from the cranky, to the sweet, to the all but irresistible: the bed in her flat was too damn small for his six foot two frame; how was he supposed to sleep at night when he knew she was alone in her apartment, they could have tons more sex if she was in his bed every night!

But she’d resisted the move for months. At first, she’d admired her own strength in standing up to him. And she’d known her reasons had been valid ones. She didn’t want to crowd him, to crowd them, to jump into anything too soon, before they were ready. She needed to maintain her independence, to be absolutely sure she wasn’t doing this for the wrong reasons. Cal was the best thing that had ever happened to her, and she loved him so deeply, she didn’t want to jinx it.

But as the months rolled by, every time she had to leave his bed in the evening on weeknights to grab a cab home, Cal had found it increasingly difficult to understand her continued caution and to let her go. If he loved her, and she loved him, what the hell was the damn problem?

She’d tried to persuade herself, and him, she was just being sensible, and rational, and careful. But eventually she’d come to realize the only reason she had left not to take the next step was fear – the terror that if they lived together, somehow Cal might decide he didn’t love her anymore.

She was finally forced to face the fact she was torturing them both for no good reason on the Sunday before Christmas. She’d gone to Cal’s flat, planning to welcome him home from a particularly grueling week-long assignment in the Ukraine with a home-cooked meal. The stunned pleasure on his travel-weary face when he’d walked through the door and found her waiting, a potted fir decorated in the living area and a fish pie baking in the oven, had been beautiful to see. Then he’d grabbed her round the waist, held her so tight she could barely breathe and whispered: “Please don’t go back to yours tonight? I need you here.”

In that moment, she’d finally accepted that there were no guarantees. And that while taking the next step might be terrifying, waiting any longer to have what they both wanted was idiotic. The last of her foolish fears had been burned to a crisp in the furious love-making that followed… Along with her fish pie!

*

And in the last few weeks, she’d cursed the fact she’d waited so long, because their relationship had deepened and intensified in all sorts of wonderful ways since that night. As they explored the new joys of shared domesticity, waking up together every morning, getting into a breakfast routine before she headed to college and Cal went to work downstairs, watching TV curled up on the sofa, making lazy love on a Saturday morning, or even tearing each other’s clothes off after a night out at an interminably long Ibsen play in the Barbican.

Her hand strayed to her stomach again. Surely, this was just another step, which would yield all sorts of wonderful things too if they took it together?

If?

Her teeth sank into her bottom lip… This wasn’t a next step, though, it was a giant leap, that neither of them had planned for or even discussed…

“Earth to Rosie.” Rosie’s head jerked up to find both Tash and Imo smirking at her. “Were you back on Planet Cal?” Tash teased.

She laughed, the sound hollow and a little strained. “Sorry, I’m not great company,” she said. Perhaps

she shouldn’t have come out tonight? But waiting home alone would just have given her more opportunities to stress. “I just want him home.”

Tash’s smirk died. “Is something wrong? You sound worried.”

She hesitated. How did she explain it to her friends? “Not wrong, exactly.”

Tash took her hand. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“God, yes…” she blurted out. But then she hesitated. “But I don’t know if I should. I should talk to him first.”

“I think you just got your wish,” Imo announced.

“What?” “How?” Both Tash and Rosie spoke together.

“Consider your V-Day curse officially busted.” Imo pointed towards the exit. “Because lover man just walked through the door.”

Rosie swiveled her head, elation and terror charging through her system at the sight of Cal barging his way past the throng of tourists and city workers knocking back cheap cocktails at the bar – at least he didn’t have last year’s pissed penis-wearing hen party to contend with, she thought a bit hysterically.

Her palm settled over her belly. And she sucked in a calming breath.

I love him so much, please let him be okay with this.

He looked tall and gorgeous and washed out, wearing two days’ worth of stubble, his clothing creased, and his travel bag slung over his shoulder. Her heart leapt into her throat. He’d come here straight from Heathrow.

He reached the table, said hello to Tash and Imo, but those chocolate eyes stayed locked on her face.

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