Free Not Quite Married by Lorhainne Eckhart

Chapter 1
    “S o when do you want to set the date for the wedding?” Logan asked, clipping his holstered gun to his belt and swallowing the last of his coffee.
    As he took in the girlie kitchen done in pinks and white—neat and tidy, with matching canisters, dishes, and cups—Logan couldn’t help but be amused. Like most guys, he didn’t really care about color-coordinating, but he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut. He stared at the sterling silver serving spoon in the dish drain, remembering how Julia had shrieked when he tried to use it to stir a pot of soup, insisting he use a wooden spoon and explaining that the silver one was for the spaghetti they would be having for dinner. He had said nothing and done his best to hide his amusement. The only thing Logan cared about was having something to eat!
    But Julia...liked nice things. She took pride in what she had, and this small three-bedroom house was nice and homey, with framed drawings, fresh flowers, and ceramic coasters on the matching side tables. Logan had moved in the day after they found Trinity, who had been abducted by her math teacher, Brent Maloney. The man had set his sights on Julia, and for some reason, unbeknownst to Logan, the guy had figured in his sick mind that kidnapping Trinity was the way to get Julia’s attention. Then again, Brent had lied about who he truly was—a man with a history of stalking women.
    It took Logan a moment to realize that Julia hadn’t answered him after he closed up the dishwasher and poured the milk out of Dawn’s half-eaten bowl of cornflakes. Ten-year-old Dawn, like her twin sister, Trinity, was a handful for her mother.
    “Julia?” Logan wiped his hands, put the rag in the sink, and stepped over to his dark-haired fiancée as she leaned against the counter, working her lower lip between her teeth. She peered up at him with those green eyes of hers, which could make him do anything. He put his hand against her rounded cheek, and she leaned into it.
    She sighed and said, “I’m late.”
    Logan glanced at the clock. “It’s only eight thirty,” he said. “You don’t open until ten. You have lots of time—or is there something you have to do at the café?” Sometimes suppliers showed up with deliveries, but that was usually on Tuesday. Today was Wednesday, and Julia always told him who was coming and when. After what had happened with Brent, she understood his need to know when strangers would be showing up.
    What stared back at him now was an expression of annoyance. “No, I’m late late,” she said, waving her hand as if he should understand what she was getting at. She worked her lip nervously again.
    What was she talking about? He rested his hand on her shoulder, rubbing her arm and the soft cotton of her green t-shirt. She took a deep breath, her breasts rising, and of course his gaze went right there, to those generous handfuls, remembering how he’d awoken her that morning. He loved her breasts, her ass, her slender legs, the curves of her hips, how she fit so nicely against him…and the way she responded to him when he slipped inside her. She was his everything.
    Julia looked up at him now as she squeezed her fist and then pressed her hand flat against his chest, letting out a breath. She smoothed her palm over his chest, not meeting his gaze, as if she was having trouble finding the words for what she needed to say. When she flicked her gaze to him again, he felt something tighten in his gut.
    “I’m never late, Logan. I think I’m pregnant.” She glanced away, worrying her lower lip between her teeth, and it took him all of two seconds to realize the implications of what she was saying. Maybe she didn’t want any more kids. He’d never considered that.
    “You don’t want kids?” he asked, wondering where she was coming from. There were so many what-ifs they hadn’t even discussed.
    She widened her eyes. “How am I going to manage the café with a baby, Logan? I mean, you never