Pregnant by the Playboy Tycoon

Sweat sprang to her palms and she kept her eyes on the rear lights of the car in front. She could try turning down the car’s heating, but that would be like admitting he’d made her hot. Which wouldn’t have happened if she was alone.

‘Except you didn’t forget, did you?’ he continued in that rumbly voice. ‘You had no intention of calling me.’

‘I already told you, I don’t need a passenger. You could travel at your own speed and convenience. Fly like most business people. It’s not too late. I can—’

‘Maybe I don’t need a driving partner either.’ He cut her off, his tone sharp, all trace of humour gone. ‘Have you considered that maybe I only agreed to this because I want to put Cindy’s mind at rest, not to mention your father’s?’

Guilt stabbed at Anneliese. She’d been so caught up in her own problems she hadn’t given Cindy a thought.

They came to a snarl in the traffic and she slowed to a stop. ‘Okay,’ she conceded. ‘You’re right, I’m sorry. Perhaps you should call her. Tell her not to worry, big brother’s got everything under control.’

‘Too early yet. But I sent her a text before you opened the gate.’ The humour seemed to be back in his voice as he stretched his arms and rolled his shoulders.

She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel and steeled herself to look at him. ‘So sure of yourself, aren’t you?’

He nodded. ‘Pretty much. Whereas you…’ He turned to her. ‘You’re not—never have been. Your face is an open book. A very pretty book, but open nonetheless.’

His look was so potent, so knowing she wanted to shrivel up and die of embarrassment. Because he was right. Instead of the mask she usually retreated behind, anger bubbled up and she stared right back. ‘Maybe I wanted you to read the message that said: I don’t want you with me.’

‘True,’ he said slowly. ‘But then I’d have to ask myself why that is.’ His gaze dipped to her mouth, a glide of sensation as if his fingers were tracing the outline and texture.

A tingle danced down her spine. How would his fingers feel against her lips? Warm or cool? Light and gentle or rough and sure? Would they feel the same on other parts of her body? No. She tipped up her chin. ‘Let me fill you in on why. You’re arrogant and intimidating and…earthy.’

Oh, Lord, had she really voiced that last thought aloud? The corner of his mouth twitched. Yep, she’d said it.

‘Not the suave and sophisticated type you’re used to, Anneliese?’

‘That’s not what I meant.’ She refused to think about the earthy dream she’d had last night involving heat and hands and lots of body lotion. And Steve… ‘I don’t want company because I have a personal and private matter to take care of,’ she snapped, flushed and furious that they were having this conversation but unable to look away. It was as if he held her gaze with some sort of magnetic force.

‘I’m only your travelling companion,’ he said without taking his eyes off her. ‘Traffic’s moving.’

‘I’m aware of that.’ Jolting out of her semi-trance state, Anneliese returned her attention to the road. From the corner of her eye she saw him settle back in his seat as she inched the car forward again and said, ‘I don’t need your conversation taking my focus away from my driving.’ She didn’t need his conversation, period. The road cleared and she planted her foot on the accelerator.

‘By all means, focus away.’ He crossed his arms. ‘And we’re not trying to break any world speed records here. You might want to ease your dad’s worry and let him know I’m along for the ride.’

Who was he to remind her of her responsibilities? Anneliese took a deep breath. Counted to three, let it out slowly, then said, ‘I intend to, as soon as we stop. Have you forgotten it’s dangerous, not to mention illegal, to use the phone while behind the wheel?’

‘No. Speaking of dangerous and illegal…do you always travel at this speed?’

‘When I’m under pressure, yes.’

And no doubt Daddy paid her fines as well. Barely turning his head, Steve studied her covertly. What he was imagining doing to her right now was definitely dangerous, and no doubt illegal, too. But those neat little buttons on her prim little blouse begged to be popped. All the way to her navel. And when he’d eased down her bra and finished exploring her delectable body, he’d just bet that navel was as neat and prim as the rest of her…

He closed his eyes. Quit now. She’s just your travelling companion.

Not by choice, he reminded himself, for either of them.

And she didn’t know it yet, but what she got up to when they arrived in Surfers Paradise was still his business. For the sake of Cindy and Marcus and the fact that Steve didn’t trust her not to get into trouble he’d just made it his business.

Her perfume wafted beneath his nose and he felt the subtle air movement as she reached over the console to turn on a CD.

Clean, crisp classical violin.

He groaned inwardly. He might have guessed. This did not bode well for a long trip. Feeling constricted, tight, trapped, he yanked the zipper of his vest down. Yep. A very long trip.

When he opened his eyes again the music was still classical but she’d turned the volume down and the landscape had changed from suburban to rural. Farming and grape-growing land. Rubbing his eyes, he checked his watch and their speed. If his estimation was correct they were somewhere in the Goulburn Valley. Signs of a town in the distance stirred his hunger. ‘Time for breakfast,’ he said, stretching out the kinks. ‘I’m thinking sausages, hash browns, bacon and eggs washed down with a hot frothy cappuccino.’

‘Better make an appointment to see Dad when you get back.’

He turned to look at her to see if she was as serious as she sounded. She’d put on sunglasses so he couldn’t be sure. ‘I work it off. Don’t tell me you’re one of those women who skips breakfast.’

‘Of course not. But all that oily food… You’re hardly going to work it off sitting in a car all day. A balanced—’

‘I don’t need the lecture.’ Obviously she knew it by heart, living with an eminent heart surgeon. ‘I’ll jog when we stop for the night.’

Tonight. He andAnneliese were going to be sleeping… Close.

Disturbing—he might need to lengthen that jog this evening.

‘So you like the classics,’ he said, more to block out the direction his thoughts were taking than anything else.

‘Yes.’ Her answer was automatic, her eyes on the road.

‘Any other music? Rock and roll?’ he asked, hopefully. ‘Country and Western? Elvis?’ Heavy metal?

‘We only have classical at home.’ A statement, flatly spoken.

‘Yeah, but do you like it when you’re on your own?’

‘Mummy says classical’s…’ She trailed off, biting her lower lip and blinking rapidly. Swapped the CD in favour of the radio. When the speakers spat out static she turned it off.

Hell. His fault. Please don’t let her cry. But Steve felt her heartache all the way inside. His own mother hadn’t been a part of his life in for ever. Circumstances might be different—Marlene Anderson had walked out on her husband and two kids twenty years ago—but he still remembered the pain. ‘Hey…’ he said softly, reaching out to soothe a thumb over her shoulder.

A micro-moment as his fingers skimmed over the skin-warmed silk, feeling bone beneath flesh, a ridge of bra strap.

A scant second for the jolt of that first contact to rewire his brain.

He pulled away at the same instant she stiffened and drew a sharp breath. Well, he decided, curling a fist around the unexpected heat, that was something to think about. Or not.

‘It’ll heal with time,’ he said into the silence, and rather than look at the rigid woman beside him, he watched the scenery.

The jolt was still vibrating along his bones. Attraction. Hell, he already knew that, but it was more than he’d imagined, and he’d imagined quite a lot. And different. No other woman had ever managed to…what? Well, he knew better now—he wouldn’t be so quick to touch her again.

They travelled the rest of the way to the town in silence.

‘We’ll stop here, then I’ll drive for a while,’ Steve said as they cruised down the main street.

Anneliese didn’t reply; she seemed to be deep in thought. She parked outside a bakery and they found a clean laminated table with the colour scrubbed out of it.

He ordered his big breakfast while Anneliese ordered coffee and a salad roll. They sat opposite each other to wait for their order.

‘You okay?’

Her reply was a tight-lipped, ‘Fine, thanks.’

No more than he expected. But she looked fragile, as Cindy had said. And it wasn’t just her mother’s passing—he saw more than grief in her eyes. He saw anger and disillusionment for starters. Serious personal issues.

This time he resisted offering her the comfort of touch, but it went against his nurturing nature and left him feeling inadequate and hollow. ‘If you want to unload…’

He didn’t think she even heard him. When they’d eaten they used the town’s public conveniences, then met up back at the car. ‘Sure you don’t want to stock up on chocolate before we hit the road? Chocolate’s a good comfort food.’

‘I’m fine.’

‘Okay, but don’t tell me I told you so when I break open my giant block of Caramello.’ He pulled his sunglasses from his vest pocket. ‘I’ll drive.’

‘Uh…wait up…’ She bit her lip, hesitated a second, then dropped the keys in his hand and took off up the street again.

He watched her go, her low heels clicking on the footpath while his thumb stroked over her keys still warm from her hand. She was compact, he thought, eyeing her cute bottom in those hip-hugging trousers and that demure blouse he couldn’t seem to stop fantasising about. Neat.

And all zippered up like her expensive gold chain-mesh key-holder.

Scowling, he unzipped it, unlocked the door and yanked it open. He was used to girls who were open, flirtatious, and knew how to have fun. Girls who understood the ground rules: nothing serious. When it wasn’t fun any more, for either party, it was time to move on. A girl like Anneliese wouldn’t know fun if it laid her on her back and tickled her tummy.

And why he’d come up with that analogy was beyond his comprehension.

A couple of minutes later she was back with something in a slim carry bag. Somewhat breathless, she slid into the passenger seat. She seemed different. Brighter, lighter, as if she’d shed a little of that load off her shoulders. He couldn’t see her eyes behind her sunglasses, but a tiny Mona Lisa smile tipped up the corners of her mouth.

Perhaps he’d been wrong about the tummy tickle. Perhaps she didn’t know how to have fun because no one had shown her. A flash of heat zapped through his veins, quickly doused. What in hell was he thinking? No, he was sure the ice-maiden act was reserved for him alone—perhaps with another man…

He jerked his gaze straight ahead and slid the key into the ignition. ‘All set?’

‘Let’s go.’

They drove out of town, heading northeast. The sky was lowering, darkening with threatened rain. The trees tossed in the strengthening wind.

Steve was happy to oblige her earlier request for little conversation. After all, what could they possibly have in common?

Except the intense physical awareness of each other.

Yeah, she was aware of him all right. If she’d shifted any farther left, she’d be out the door.

Not that he was looking.

He didn’t need to look to know that her blouse had stretched tighter over her breasts when she’d pushed her hair behind her ears. He couldn’t help hearing her soft sighs when she wiggled her bottom to find a more comfortable position. And all the while her fragrance teased his nostrils.

It was like an endurance test.

They stopped for a late lunch, then a major accident and a hailstorm held them up. Darkness fell suddenly, like a wet blanket.

They’d swapped driving duty an hour ago, which gave Steve nothing to do but concentrate on not thinking about his proximity to Anneliese. The radio had dropped out fifty kilometres back and the silence inside the car was beginning to grate on Steve’s nerves. It was past 10:00 p.m. ‘We’ve got to stop somewhere tonight,’ he said. ‘Any ideas?’

‘Ah…I…was hoping we could drive straight through—’

‘Nope.’ He’d expected that. ‘I need a few hours of horizontal.’

‘Take a nap now, then. I’m right for a while.’ Without taking her eyes off the road, she set the open map on his lap.

He’d hardly closed his eyes when he woke feeling vaguely disoriented. He checked his watch. One hour. Something wasn’t right.

She caught his glance and her frown mirrored his. ‘I expected we would’ve been near Moree by now… I think maybe we took a wrong turn somewhere…’

‘We?’

‘I thought—’

‘The general condition of this road gave you no clue?’ He gestured at the view beyond the windscreen, switched on the car’s interior light. ‘Why didn’t you wake me? Pull over to the side of the road.’

She complied without a word.

‘This is where we’re headed—were headed…’ Taking the map from his knee, she spread it out on the dashboard.

‘Anneliese. No.’ He remained calm—was calm, he told himself—as he reorientated the map ninety degrees, pointed to their route. So it was true what they said about women and maps. ‘I’ll drive.’

‘No.’ She set the car into gear, turned and headed back the way they’d come. ‘What’s that noise—?’

‘Just what we damn well need—’

They both spoke at the same time.

‘Pull over again,’ he ordered.

A chill wind wrapped around him as he climbed out. He confirmed the problem, then poked his head inside to give Anneliese the good news. ‘We’ve got a flat.’ He zipped his vest as high as it would go. ‘Guess we can be thankful it’s not something serious or we might be stuck here for hours.’

CHAPTER THREE

A FLAT.

As in tyre.

As in we need the spare.

The spare with the three-month old puncture she’d forgotten about.

Taking a deep breath, Anneliese closed her eyes. A hole seemed to open up in her stomach and she wished she could just crawl into it and disappear. So much for being independent.

‘Switch off the engine and help me unload your gear from the boot and I’ll change it,’ she heard Steve say. ‘Maybe we can still make Moree this side of midnight.’

She switched off the car but remained where she was. A muffled ‘um’ escaped from between her tight lips.

When she opened her eyes she found Steve leaning over the passenger seat, his gaze fixed on hers. ‘Tell me you have a jack.’

‘I do.’

‘Thank heavens for that, then,’ he said, backing out again. ‘For a moment there, I—’

‘But the spare’s…punctured.’

‘The. Spare’s. Punctured.’ He enunciated each word as if he needed time to absorb the meaning.

‘I never got around to…’ she looked away; she didn’t think he’d appreciate her bringing into it the fact that Dad considered it a man’s job and took care of her car. ‘…getting it repaired.’

‘You planned to drive seventeen hundred k’s without having your car checked over first.’ She flinched at the sound of a frustrated palm slapping the car’s roof. ‘I bet you didn’t forget your perfume, did you?’ He shut the passenger door with a firm thud.

‘For your inf…’ Forget it, he can’t hear you. He doesn’t want to hear you.

And what he’d said was no more than the brutally honest truth.

She watched him in the car’s headlights as he walked away, his unkempt hair whipped by the wind. He turned into the glare and motioned her to turn off the lights as he pulled something out of his pocket.

What in heaven’s name would she have done if she’d been alone? Exactly what he was doing, she thought, watching him punch numbers into his mobile. But she breathed a sigh of relief that he had everything under control and slumped down in her seat.

Except hadn’t she sworn to take control of her own life? She jackknifed up again. Wasn’t that why she’d begun this journey? To make changes? Forget that if she’d been responsible he wouldn’t be making calls on a lonely road in the middle of the night. Someone else taking charge. Again. Worse, it was Steve, the man she always seemed to fall apart in front of.

She couldn’t take her eyes off him. Ratty vest aside, he was…what? She’d never been so aware of any man the way she was aware of Steve. Because he was different? Because he didn’t treat her the way her usual dates did?

Her mind spun back to her twenty-first party at an exclusive Melbourne club. Most of the guests had left and he’d turned up late to collect Cindy and somehow Anneliese had found herself alone in the car park with Steve…

‘Happy birthday, Anneliese.’

His deep-timbred voice resonated along her bones, sending excitement fizzing through her veins like the celebratory champagne she’d been drinking all night, and she quite simply froze.

‘Thank you,’ she managed—barely—mesmerised by a smile that was as potent as the intensity of his dark eyes. She’d have walked past him, but even motionless he seemed to be blocking her way. Her feet remained glued to the concrete.

His hair stood up in spikes, and that facial fuzz had to be at least three days old. There was a smear of grease on his arm, as if he’d been playing mechanic. In tattered jeans and sneakers and a black T-shirt that looked as if it had been spray-painted over that mile-wide chest, obviously he didn’t care that this place had a dress code, even if he was only on driving duty.

And yet her pulse took no notice of the fact that this was the type of man she avoided.

‘You look sensational tonight,’ he said when she didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

Just stood like a statue in her filmy white organza gown, eyes fused with his while his body heat radiated across the too-close space between them. ‘Thank you again.’ She cleared her throat and attempted to paste a smile on her stiff lips. ‘Cindy’s inside.’

‘Sorry I’m late—I’ve been working on her car.’ He hesitated a beat before saying, ‘Do I get a birthday kiss?’ He must have presumed she’d comply because he promptly stepped in and she got a whiff of motor oil and healthy sweat.

Her heart thundered; her breath stalled. Terror invaded her body. Terror that she’d fall at his feet in a mindless quivering heap. She flung out a hand in front of her. ‘Touch me and I’ll…’ She trailed off. Already her lips were tingling, her hand falling limp to her side, her body swaying towards him.

Her numbed brain registered a flicker of hurt behind the heat in his gaze. ‘And you’ll…what, Anneliese?’

She could feel the vibration of his lips, his breath, in the air between them and closed her eyes for the final assault.

Then…nothing.

‘No. On second thoughts, I don’t think so,’ he murmured. ‘You’d just spend the rest of the night awake and restles and wishing for more than just a kiss.’

She gasped as her eyes snapped open. His mouth was still a whisper away from hers. But not close enough.

Never going to be close enough.

Her cheeks stung with humiliation while her hands itched to slap that arrogant smile off his face. And her lips still ached.

Straightening, he stepped away. ‘And you’d hate yourself in the morning…’

Anneliese relived the emotions as she watched him through the windscreen. On the few occasions they’d run into each other, neither of them had mentioned that evening again. But it was always there, a silent wall between them.

So of course he hadn’t invited himself on this trip. He’d done it for Cindy’s peace of mind, and her father’s. She watched him rake a hand through his over-long hair and promptly dismissed the image of that hand touching her with the same wild abandon.

He looked thoroughly untamed right now with the wind flapping against his vest and the threadbare patches in the knees of his jeans. Some women went for that look. A lot of women apparently. A disconcerting blip interrupted her pulse… That was how she knew it wouldn’t be a chaste kiss at the front door.

As for her birthday non-kiss… Well, she’d never know.

He turned and headed back to the car and even in the night’s dimness she didn’t miss the impatient snap in his long strides, the grim face as he shoved the mobile in his jeans pocket. Chill air bowled into the car, sweeping away the residual warmth from the car’s heating as he swung the door open and slid inside. He smelled of spice and winter grass and she had to force herself not to gulp it in.

‘First off, I apologise,’ he clipped. ‘That gibe about the perfume was uncalled for.’

She inclined her head. ‘You called it as you see it. What now?’

‘Can’t get a signal.’ He closed his eyes briefly, then turned to her, his jaw tight and shadowed with the day’s stubble. ‘I’ll try again later. Unless a car comes by, we’re stuck here. And since we’ll need a tow, we’re here for the night in any case.’

She told herself the tight clench in the region of her stomach was because she hadn’t eaten, that the only reason her skin prickled was because she was cold. But it was more than that. Her irresponsibility had got them into this mess. And now they were stranded. Together. Close together. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘These things happen.’ He squeezed her shoulder in a totally non-sexual way and his expression relaxed a little, but warmth spiralled from his touch down to her fingertips.

She’d just bet these things didn’t happen to Steve.

He blew on his hands. ‘Do you have a rug, or something we can share while we wait?’

Share body heat with Steve Anderson? Her pulse accelerated and her skin prickled anew and she shivered involuntarily. For a moment she considered saying no, but that was about as dumb as travelling without an inflated spare tyre.

‘There’s a quilt in the boot.’ Scrambling out, she hugged herself against the wind as she headed to the back of the car, then began pulling out bags.

Steve appeared at her side, shrugging off his vest. ‘Here. You’re shivering.’ Before she knew what he was about, he’d slung the vest around her shoulders, enveloping her in his spicy warmth.

She didn’t need it. She didn’t need to feel the slippery sensation of the lining against her breasts through her jumper, didn’t want to be surrounded by his masculine scent. ‘No… I’m okay.’

Irritation and impatience sparked in his eyes as she looked up at him. ‘Keep it, I don’t feel the cold,’ he said, pulling the quilt out. ‘Get back in the car, I’ll finish up here.’

She did as he requested, dragging her arms through the openings in the vest on the way. Steve joined her a couple of minutes later with the quilt—her bedroom quilt with the extra down filling that seemed to shrink the limited space even further.

‘Slide your seat back.’ His breath tickled her ear and his hands looked big and dark and masculine on the familiar pink floral fabric as he adjusted it over them both.

Whoa. Her whole body went rigid; her heart stalled. It was like being in bed with him. She only had to lean a little more to the left to find out how his lips would feel against hers, and she was tempted. She’d never acted out anything like that in her life.

‘The steering wheel’s going to get in your way,’ he said patiently. ‘And if we want to maximise the quilt’s effectiveness we need to be close.’

‘Close?’ she repeated, her eyes drifting to his mouth again. Her voice came out as a whisper.

Then she realised he was waiting for her to oblige with the seat. She slid it back a couple of notches so that they were shoulder to shoulder. His heat burned through her jumper where they touched. Only the handbrake prevented their thighs from abrading. Thank heavens. She remained rod-stiff, closed her eyes and counted. One, two—

‘I won’t hurt you, Anneliese.’