Whitehall Baby: A Surprise Pregnancy, Fake Relationship Romantic Comedy Perfect for Chick Lit Fans Read online

  So that’s how I find myself sat at a small table for two by the window. I wait on my coffee and text her to ask where the hell she is. I hate how she’s allowed to be late but whenever I am she gets annoyed. She’s been doing this since school.

  I’m just stirring sugar into my coffee when I see a huge hulk of a man cross the street, heading for the same cafe. Yum.

  Uh-oh. My stomach wobbles as I remember those broad shoulders. How those arms wrapped round me and held me close while those lush lips attacked me. It’s Arthur Ellison. Shit.

  I quickly look down, using my hair as a protective curtain. Please don’t let him see me. The bell above the door rattles and I smell him immediately. God, he smells divine. How could I have ever forgotten that smell? Like florals mixed with citrus notes. Somehow manly, it kind of reminds me of smelling the orange trees on holiday in Spain when I was young.

  He hasn’t recognised me yet, thank God. I mean, he might not even remember me. Maybe he kisses a different woman each night? He could with that face.

  The bell above the door dings again. I briefly look up as Eloise spots me.

  ‘Char! Sorry I’m late, but we had a bastard getting our proposal approved.’

  At Eloise’s booming voice, Arthur turns his head. Our eyes meet and that same electric intensity sizzles between us.

  ‘Oh, hi. I didn’t see you there.’ He takes his coffee from the barista and strides over with a confident smile.

  It’s actually unfair how gorgeous he is while I’m wearing a dress from Primark and miss-match underwear. Don’t get me wrong, I make this plum-coloured body con dress look like its Gucci, but I know. Hardly the glamour puss he met Saturday night. He surveys me and it’s as if he knows too.

  ‘Hi.’ I do a stupid wave. I’m such a dork.

  ‘Eloise,’ he nods curtly before thankfully leaving.

  As soon as the door shuts, I let out the large breath I’m holding tight in my lungs. Jesus, that man is stressful.

  ‘Keep it in your knickers, Char,’ Eloise cackles. ‘Jesus, you’re as red as a tomato.’

  ‘Great. Just great.’

  I’ve just about recovered later that afternoon when an unknown number starts calling my mobile. Could it be him? Nah, I’m obviously just getting excited for no reason, although I’ve no idea why. I want nothing to do with him. The pompous gorgeous bastard.

  That doesn’t stop me rushing to the toilets. I don’t normally do this when I assume it’s just a call asking if I’ve had PPI insurance.

  I take a quick deep breath and press answer.

  ‘Hello?’

  My body is praying to God it’s him, while my brain tells me to stop being stupid.

  ‘Hi Charlotte, it’s Arthur Ellison.’ I can almost hear that amused smirk down the line.

  ‘Oh, hi.’ I’m actually out of breath. What is wrong with me? I have zero game when it comes to dating. This is why I stay away from it.

  ‘I was wondering if you were free for dinner tonight?’

  Wow, straight in there. No hesitation at all. He really wants to take little old me out to dinner? Maybe it’s some kind of bet his friend made? Don’t get me wrong I’m not ugly but being around fashion models all day does batter your confidence.

  ‘Um…’

  I don’t have plans, but I’m also not sure if I want to jump into whatever the hell this is. Would he have given me a second thought if we hadn’t have bumped into each other today?

  ‘I don’t know if I’m free,’ I say vaguely, playing for time.

  ‘Come on,’ he encourages. ‘You came to see me today, didn’t you?’

  Oh so that’s it. He thinks I was hoping to bump into him. Thinks I’m a little bunny boiler. What an idiot. I have no time to play stupid games.

  ‘It was a coincidence. Eloise wanted to meet there.’

  ‘Of course she did.’ Amusement laces his tone. ‘We had fun together, didn’t we?’

  Ah, so he’s just looking for a quick hook up from the woman he thinks is following him. Easy pickings for someone like him.

  ‘I mean, for the brief time we were together, yeah… I suppose.’ I try to sound bored but it comes out uneven and jittery.

  ‘So let me make it up to you tonight. We can get to know each other.’

  He’s very persuasive. No wonder he works in politics.

  ‘Err…’ I suppose I still have to eat, and God knows I have no food in at home. ‘Okay then.’

  It seems easier to just go with it. I’ve a feeling he wouldn’t let me out of it if I tried.

  ‘Yes,’ he says in triumph. ‘Whereabouts do you work?’

  ‘Not far from Embankment.’

  Already the thought of having to redo my make-up and engage in small talk feels emotionally draining. I was looking forward to a night of Netflix.

  ‘Great, I’ll have my PA book us a table somewhere close by and send you the details.’

  God, he’s a pompous dick. I am that overworked PA.

  I already feel sick with worry, my stomach doing a million somersaults. I despise all of this awkward first date stuff. But then when I think of that kiss I find myself blushing at just the memory of his tongue in my mouth and his hands fisting my hair. Maybe it won’t be so bad.

  Arthur

  Dammit. I was a stupid bastard to think seeing her today was some kind of sign, either from her or the universe. I just bloody knew as soon as I’d make plans they’d be some sort of emergency. It’s just my luck. It’s why I don’t date. Too many complications when there’s already enough turmoil in my life. The Prime Minister’s requested an update on the budget crisis, so I’ve had to drop everything and rush to Number Ten.

  I check my watch. 6 p.m. already. Dammit. I’ll have to push the date back. I bring up her number and call her.

  ‘Hello?’ she answers, her voice quiet and unsure.

  ‘Hi, I’m really sorry but I’m going to have to push dinner back an hour. I’ve been called into an urgent meeting.’

  ‘Oh, okay. If you’d rather reschedule I really don’t mind at all.’

  She’s not getting out of it that easily. ‘No, no, I have to eat anyway. Would you be able to meet me at my apartment instead? It’s closer to the office.’

  ‘Err…okay,’ she says, seeming unsure.

  ‘Great, got to go. Bye.’

  I quickly type out an email to my PA Rachel.

  Please push dinner reservation back to 8pm.

  Phones aren’t allowed at Number Ten so I hope she replies quickly. I text Charlotte my address.

  Of course, will do my PA Rachel replies.

  This is why I’ll never fire her. She’s always at my beck and call.

  I turn my phone off and leave it in the pigeonhole. I look at my wristwatch again. I can make it. Ever the optimist.

  Charlotte

  I’ve heard of some weird first impressions but this one really takes the biscuit. He rang me around six p.m. sounding completely hassled and asking if I could meet him an hour later instead. I gave him the chance to back out, explaining that I really didn’t mind, but he told me no, that he had to eat anyway. What a bloody romantic.

  Then he asked if I could meet him at his apartment. I just really hope it’s not a ploy to get me at his house without having to take me out. Not that he seems short of cash.

  I walk out of the lift and knock on his door. He’s in some swanky apartment right across from the Thames. I wonder if he has a view.

  Hmm, no answer. That’s weird. I look to my watch; eight p.m. He told me to meet him here. I didn’t have a chance to get home and changed so I’m still in my Primark plum dress with freshly applied make up.

  Fucking arsehole, can’t even be bothered to answer the door. I begrudgingly call him, hopping from foot to foot. Why did I even agree to this? I could be at home in my pyjamas—bra free—by now.

  ‘Hey,’ he answers, sounding more hassled than before. ‘I’m so sorry, I’m still at work, it’s been mental. But I have a key hidden above the do
or. Let yourself in and I’ll be there as soon as I can.’

  ‘Oh… um…’

  ‘Speak soon.’ He hangs up.

  I can’t help but feel like I’ve been handled. He told me to wait for him, didn’t ask, told. I don’t like being bossed around. At least not by dates.

  Regardless, and feeling like an idiot, I reach for the key and let myself in. Wow, his place is stunning; floor to ceiling windows frame a perfect view of the Thames. His apartment is like a show home, all marbled floors, light grey walls and bright vibrant pictures on the wall that I’m sure cost more than my yearly salary.

  I sink into his huge cream corner sofa, finding the remote control, and flick on the giant TV which must be at least a fifty-five inch. It’s on Sky News and they’re talking about some kind of political budget crisis. Boring.

  I flick it over and then wonder if this is the political problem that he’s currently dealing with. I don’t even know what a Cabinet Secretary does. I pull out my phone and do a quick google search, squinting at what comes up. Well that’s a long arse list that I can’t be bothered reading. I shouldn’t be with this guy. We couldn’t be more different if we tried. I have zero interest in all that shit. Whenever I see politicians arguing on TV my automatic reaction is to turn over. This is his life.

  Ah well, while I’m here I might as well make myself comfortable. I raid his fridge, starving for that dinner I was promised, and grab a bag of Maltesers. Relaxing into his squishy couch, I settle on a re-run of Friends, and decide to wait him out.

  About an hour later the door opens and in he walks, sex on legs in a navy suit with matching pinstripe tie, carrying a plastic bag.

  ‘I am so sorry,’ he says with a grimace. Even from here I can tell he’s had a shit day. His broad shoulders are tensed, a vein in his neck protruding, and his eyes are bleary.

  ‘It’s fine, really.’ It’s not, but I’ve been comfortable enough waiting.

  He lifts the bag. ‘I grabbed us a Chinese. I hope you don’t mind. I just really didn’t fancy sitting in a restaurant after the day I’ve had.’

  ‘What happened?’ I leap up, grabbing the bag eagerly from him, wondering if he has any of my favourites.

  ‘You didn’t see it on the news?’ He raises his eyes up in surprise.

  ‘I have a confession,’ I admit, getting out what looks like a sweet and sour chicken. Yes, one of my faves! ‘I don’t really watch the news.’

  His mouth drops open. ‘You have to be joking.’

  I sound like such a bimbo. Eloise would be so ashamed of me right now.

  ‘No. I mean, sometimes, but if anything political comes on I turn it over straight away. I can’t stand it.’

  He shakes his head in disbelief. ‘Jesus, and you’re friends with Eloise how?’

  I snort a laugh. ‘People always ask me that. We’ve been friends since secondary school, we come from the same hometown.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘Yep.’ I nod. ‘I went off to do my fashion degree and she went to Oxford to study politics.’

  ‘Yet you still remained close friends?’ He frowns as if genuinely wondering how that could have happened.

  ‘Yeah, of course. I mean, no one knows you like your school mates, right?’

  He thinks about it a second as he spoons out some food to a plate. ‘I suppose you’re right. Although I’m not friends with anyone from school. Only university.’

  I raise my eyebrows. ‘Well, by the looks of it you don’t have much spare time.’

  He snorts a laugh. ‘That’s an understatement.’

  We tuck into our food in silence. I hope he likes girls who eat because I am not holding back. I’m starved. I can’t remember the last time I treated myself to a takeaway. As I stuff the last prawn cracker in my mouth I lean back, hoping he won’t kiss me. I’d likely burp in his face.

  ‘How did you know to get my favourites?’

  He grins. ‘I called Eloise. Who didn’t even know we were going out.’ He glances at me and arches a brow.

  ‘Well, yeah, she doesn’t live in my pocket.’ I roll my eyes.

  ‘Good to know that you’re discreet,’ he says, almost absentmindedly.

  Discreet? Does he want to keep this all a secret? Whatever the hell this is. I help him clear up in an awkward silence.

  ‘Great apartment by the way.’

  ‘Thanks.’ He smiles, his eyes tired. It’s only now I can see how exhausted he is; his eyelids heavy and drooping as he rubs at them. ‘Just a shame I don’t get to spend more time here.’

  He plonks himself down on the sofa, loosening his tie and undoing his top button. It’s annoying how sexy it is. I get the smallest glimpse of tanned skin. I wonder if he has hair on his chest. With dark hair like that I’d bet he does.

  He holds out his arms for me, without even breaking his glance from the screen.

  O… kay. He wants to cuddle? I slowly lower myself down next to him and automatically he wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me close, my other shoulder rests against his broad chest. Wow, he’s friendly. He’s acting like we’ve done this every night for two years, not a first date. Although I suppose you can’t even call it that.

  He hands the remote over to me. ‘Anything but the news, right?’

  I grin back at him. He’s quite funny, even if it is at my expense.

  I turn on a film that’s already been on an hour. It seems an easy one. I allow myself to relax into his touch. The feminist in me hates to admit it, but there’s something about being in a big strong man’s hold that settles your nerves.

  Barely ten minutes have gone by before I realise he’s asleep, his light snores heard over the film. It gives me an excuse to shamelessly look over him. The glow from the TV highlights his perfect profile with its strong, square jaw. He has a small bump on his nose. I wonder if he broke it in a bar fight or something. He also has a slight bend to his ears. You wouldn’t notice it unless you were staring at him. For some reason I find it adorable. It doesn’t stop him from being perfect though.

  His black hair is pushed off his face and held back by gel or something. Almost like he’s fresh and wet from the shower. It has a curl to it I hadn’t noticed before.

  I sigh. We’re so different. Definitely not meant to be.

  I make to get up, but he tightens his grip on me.

  ‘Stay,’ he whispers, his voice raspy.

  I look over him, eyes still shut. I should really get back. I need to get the last train home.

  ‘Please.’

  I hear the desperation in his voice. It’s then that it hits me. This man, although powerful and successful, is lonely. He craves human connection, just like everyone else.

  ‘Okay.’ I cuddle myself back into him, pressing my cheek into his chest and swinging my legs over his lap. I don’t know how I feel about this man, but the thought of him needing me… it makes me feel useful for once. So I close my eyes and try not to think about what it means.

  3

  Tuesday 28th April

  Charlotte

  I’m woken by the clatter of cups and begrudgingly open my eyes. My neck’s stiff and I crank it slightly to see Arthur sat on the coffee table in front of me. He’s freshly showered by the smell of him and already dressed in another suit, this time a grey pinstripe. His taunting smirk is back on his lips.

  ‘I made you coffee,’ he says, pointing to my cup as he sips his own.

  I grunt in response.

  ‘I’m going to go out on a limb here and say you aren’t a morning person.’ His eyes spark with humour.

  I grab the coffee and drink from it like my life depends on it. God, he’s annoying, but this is damn good coffee, almost coffee shop quality.

  ‘I’m a night owl,’ I croak. ‘Why would anyone like the mornings?’

  He grins. ‘You’ve got to catch the early worm and all that.’ He clears his throat, his eyes quickly switching to serious. ‘Well, listen, I wanted to talk to you, but now I’m thinking I should see you tonigh
t when you’re more awake.’

  ‘Better idea,’ I croak, already trying to fall back asleep when I see its only seven a.m.

  I can squeeze in at least another half hour.

  ‘Okay. I’m off then. Keep the key and let yourself in tonight.’

  I’ve no idea why I agreed to come back. The guy is clearly just going to let me down gently. Either that or fancy a quick shag before he asks me to leave, but… well his apartment is so pretty. Especially when you compare his apartment to the room I rent in a house in Watford. Three other girls live there so there’s a constant stream of noise and drama. Plus the guy has Sky TV. I haven’t been able to watch Sky since I was at my parents. It’s also just down the road from work. So convenient.

  I’ve not been settled into the comfiest couch in the world for long, when I hear him at the door. Shit. It’s only 7 p m. I thought he’d be way later than this. I scramble around, desperate to make myself appear prettier. I didn’t have time to go home so just stole a hot pink sample panel dress from work. No time for lipstick so I just smooth my hair down and smile.

  He hurries in, throwing his satchel down by the door.

  ‘Hey.’ He smiles.

  God he’s dreamy. That suit fits him like a glove. Definitely handmade. Damn, to be his tailor. Focus, Charlotte. Focus.

  ‘Hi.’ I wave awkwardly.

  He grins back like he finds my dorkiness hilarious. Glad I can be of some service.

  ‘Would you like a wine?’ He asks already going to the fridge and getting out a bottle of white.

  ‘Ooh, yes please.’ Unless you’re about to kick me out that is.

  Standing up, I walk over to the breakfast bar, accepting my drink with a shaking hand. Why does he make me so nervous? He’s just a guy.

  ‘So… you wanted to talk?’ I ask, taking a larger than classy gulp. I want to get this over and done with.

  He smiles, his eyes wandering down to my lips. ‘Yeah… I…’ He clears his throat as if he’s forgotten what he’s saying. ‘I want to be honest with you.’