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      Pregnant?

      Oliver’s head spun and he actually had to shake his head physically to clear it.

      Pregnant.

      He’d been here before. With Justine. Except the baby hadn’t been his, because Justine had lied to him all along. He knew Ella was nothing like Justine; but the past still haunted him.

      The last time those words had been said to him, he’d been just as shocked. The baby hadn’t been planned and he’d still been studying for his specialist exams. He hadn’t been ready for the extra responsibility of parenthood, but of course he’d done the right thing and stood by Justine. It was his duty.

      And then, when Justine had finally told him the truth, he’d been let off the hook. Except by then he’d started to think of himself as a dad. Having that taken away from him had hurt even more than Justine’s betrayal. He’d been shocked by how isolated and lost he’d felt—and he’d sworn that never again would he let himself get emotionally involved or in a position where someone could hurt him like that.

      Now here he was again, hearing a woman tell him that she was expecting his baby. Even though Ella came from a completely different background, and he’d worked with her for long enough to trust her on a lot of levels—the situation brought back all the hurt and mistrust.

      ‘How pregnant?’ he asked carefully.

      ‘My last period was the middle of October. I’m nearly three weeks late.’

      ‘Seven weeks, then,’ he said, calculating rapidly. They’d had unprotected sex on the night of the Hallowe’en ball. That would’ve been two weeks after the start of her last period, from what she’d just said. Which meant they’d had sex right in the middle of her cycle: the most fertile time.

      And she’d been a virgin—something that made him feel guilty and protective of her at the same time. And which put all kind of inappropriate memories in his head: the way her voice had gone all husky with arousal, the way her pupils had gone wide and dark with desire, the way it had felt when he’d finally eased into her...

      Oh, for pity’s sake. He couldn’t think of that now. She’d just told him she was pregnant.

      Of course it was his baby. There was no question that it was anyone else’s baby. Everyone knew that Ella was completely devoted to her job—come to think of it, she hadn’t dated anyone since he’d known her.

      Except for that one snatched evening with him. And he’d been the only man who’d ever shared her bed like that—with the ultimate closeness. Which made it special, because Ella wasn’t the sort to sleep around.

      She looked anxious. ‘So you believe me?’

      ‘That you’re pregnant? Or that it’s mine? Obviously the dates tally. And, given the situation, it’s pretty obvious that the baby’s mine.’ He looked at her. ‘I assume you’ve done a test, to be this sure about it?’

      She nodded. ‘Today.’

      ‘And you didn’t suspect anything before today?’

      She frowned. ‘No.’

      ‘Even though your period was late?’

      ‘I put that down to stress,’ she said. ‘You know it’s been crazy round here, with so many people off sick, plus Sienna’s going off on maternity leave really soon and it’ll take Max a while to settle in properly. We’re all rushed off our feet.’

      ‘So what made you decide to do a test today?’ Then he remembered how she’d run out of his office, admitting afterwards that she’d felt a bit sick. He’d assumed she was going down with the bug. But it hadn’t been that at all. ‘You started getting morning sickness,’ he said, answering his own question.

      She nodded. ‘I can’t bear the smell of strong aftershave and coffee. That’s what made me...’ She swallowed hard, obviously feeling queasy at just the thought of the scents.

      He grabbed one of the bottles of water he kept in his desk drawer and pushed it across the desk at her. ‘Here.’

      ‘Thank you.’ She unscrewed the cap and took a sip of water. ‘Oliver, I didn’t mean this to happen. I wasn’t trying to trap you, or try to sleep my way up the ladder or anything like that. It wasn’t planned.’

      ‘Too right it wasn’t planned,’ he said grimly. He wasn’t angry with her, but he was furious with himself. Why hadn’t he taken proper responsibility when it came to precautions? More to the point, why had he made love with her in the first place, when he’d managed to keep his hands to himself and his libido under control for the last eighteen months? Why had he given into temptation that night, let the single glass of champagne he’d drunk go completely to his head and wipe out his inhibitions enough

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