Expecting His Child: The Pregnancy Plot / Staking His Claim / A Tricky Proposition

Nine

They barely made it to the car before he pushed her against the passenger door and kissed her.

The cool metal seared through her dress, a stark contrast to the warm hardness of eager male. He was in her senses, her every breath, her very blood. His kiss was so good, so hot. She had missed this, missed the familiarity of his touch, the way he boldly took control. She’d spent too many years controlling herself and having the chance to release that burden—even for a brief time—was such a welcome relief. And yes, he knew exactly what he was doing, from his hands cupping her bottom, to his mouth sliding across hers, to his questing tongue parting her lips and diving deep inside.

She moaned. Yes. Yes. So very good. So good she could hardly take the time to breathe for fear she’d miss something.

“Let’s do this in the car,” she whispered against his mouth.

He groaned. “Angel. We can’t—”

“Of course we can,” she said. Her hands went to his belt then crept lower, and she gasped when she encountered the hard bulge.

With an oath he wrenched his mouth from hers. “Not here.”

“Why not?”

He sighed, gently placing his forehead on hers. “Because it’s a public place and I don’t want to get arrested.”

Oh, yeah. She grinned. “Then let’s go.”

“Hello, Matt. Are you coming or going?”

AJ couldn’t miss the way Matt’s entire body suddenly tensed.

Then he inhaled, deliberately relaxed and turned. “Hi, Katrina. We’re just leaving, actually.”

Katrina. His ex-wife. AJ glanced past Matt, taking in the Amazonian ice blonde with amazing cheekbones. She was all legs, flat stomach and slim boyish hips, dressed in an oyster-colored knit dress and matching shoes, setting off her tan and thin arms to graceful perfection. Her bright green eyes returned AJ’s stare.

She wondered what the other woman could see, whether she felt as gauche as AJ suddenly did.

Highly doubtful. She didn’t appear to have a single unsure bone in her body as she stood there on the sidewalk.

“Who’s your friend?” Katrina said now, offering a long-fingered hand. Soft skin, firm handshake, AJ noticed.

“AJ Reynolds, this is Katrina Mills.”

“Nice to meet you,” AJ lied smoothly, suddenly feeling way too loud and dramatic next to this elegant vision.

“Same here. Well.” Her smile returned to Matt. “I have a date. Have a nice night.”

“You, too.” He nodded, watching her go with his hands deep in his pockets.

Finally, he turned back to AJ. “Sorry about that. I honestly didn’t know she’d be here.”

AJ shrugged, going for nonchalance. “It doesn’t bother me. You said you were over, right? So you’ve got nothing to apologize for.” She glanced back at Katrina as the woman disappeared into the restaurant. “She’s gorgeous. I can see why you married her.”

“Hmm.”

What kind of answer was that? Stung, AJ slid into the passenger seat without a word, the mood well and truly broken.

They drove back to Matt’s apartment, faint music from the radio filling the silence.

This was awkward. Way more than awkward—excruciating. Was he thinking about Katrina? Was that why he’d suddenly gone from white-hot to cold? Worse, was he comparing them? And if so, did she come out the winner or the loser?

Matt jabbed a button on the radio and the music changed to some crazy club tune, heavy on the bass and light on originality. AJ stared out the window, her thoughts becoming grimmer.

When they finally drove into the parking garage, AJ turned to him. “What’s wrong?”

He turned off the engine. “Nothing. Why?”

“Do you usually drive around in ominous, brooding silence? I’m a pretty good judge of mood, and you, Matthew Cooper, are in a pissy one. Is it your ex-wife?”

He swung open the door and threw a look over his shoulder just before he got out. Bingo. She followed suit, slamming the door and rounding the front of the car. “So it wasn’t an amicable split?”

He clicked on the car alarm before turning to the elevators. AJ hurried to match his stride. “Oh, it was perfectly amicable.” He sighed, punching the button. “Katrina is all about appearance, and our divorce was nothing if not polite and quick.”

“So why—?”

“I have to deal with her on a monthly basis, which is once a month more than I’d like. She’s Saint Cat’s admin director,” he added as the elevator doors opened and he walked in. “And my company depends on a mutual arrangement with their doctors and staff.”

“I see.” She followed him in and the doors slid closed.

“She’s damn good at her job.” He waved his key at the sensor and the elevator began to move. “My parents were thrilled when we got married. But she and I...”

“Weren’t a good match.”

“Not really, no.”

She couldn’t imagine Matt with someone like Katrina. He was too...passionate. Intense. Sensual. And Katrina looked like she could freeze an ice cube off her perfectly sculpted cheekbones.

So what had happened? Curiosity burned yet she let it simmer instead of putting it all out there. She didn’t want to know. Talking meant sharing, sharing meant intimacy and intimacy meant...

No. Think about your goal. That’s what you’re here for.

Never count on anyone. Never get close enough to care. Never, ever get comfortable.

She shifted from foot to foot. Living by those three rules had protected her from the worst of everything—heartbreak, disappointment, setback. Yet after she’d reconnected with Emily and had started to put down tentative roots, those rules had begun to fray around the edges. Her sister had gradually earned her trust until she’d become the one person she loved more than anything in the world. Plus, she’d been sharing a three-bedroom house in Mermaid Beach with a corporate lawyer and her personal trainer cousin for two years, which, she had to admit, was pretty comfortable.

But those were anomalies.

The elevator doors slid open, and she followed Matt into his apartment.

She’d dated a psychologist for a while and apart from the annoying way he’d never bite back when they argued, he’d taught her a lot about the intricacies of human behavior and what drove people to do what they did. Yet knowing that, people still surprised her. Like now. Matt had been so into her at the restaurant, but now... He walked in, loosened his tie and headed straight for the kitchen without a backward glance.

Invisible much?

She sighed, suddenly at a loss. And I even waxed...

“Do you want a drink?” he called while she stood in the middle of the living room, contemplating her next move.

“Tea would be good.” She glanced at the pristine chocolate-brown corner lounge and the smoked-glass coffee table. She’d been in his apartment less than a day and had already made her chaotic presence known with a water ring and a handful of smudges on the glass top.

“Do you have a cleaning service?” she called.

“No, why? Do I need one?”

She cast her eye around with a frown. “Not at all,” she muttered. “You just—”

He emerged from the kitchen, tie askew and top button undone, revealing the inviting vee of his neck. She glanced away.

“What?”

Filter, AJ, filter. She sighed. “You need a little color to brighten up your walls is all.”

He glanced around. “You don’t like my place?”

“Well, it’s nice. Elegant,” she added. “I mean, I’m no Picasso, but I have a painting that would—” She suddenly snapped her mouth shut.

“What?”

She shook her head. “I can’t believe we’re discussing your decor right now.”

His brow went up. “What would you rather be discussing?”

Her breath quickened and her eyes zeroed in on his neck again, then went back up to meet his eyes. “Nothing. I’d rather be doing.”

Man, he’d forgotten how direct this woman could be! After years of office politics, international red tape, playing nice and pretending with the best of them, Matt had missed that directness. She told it like it was, one of the things that had drawn him to her.

“C’mere.”

She was in his arms quicker than he could blink, lips tilting up, eager for his. With a groan, he obliged, slowly covering her mouth.

Yes. She welcomed him inside, teasing his tongue as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. The warm press of her breasts against his chest, her lean body and gently curving hips as they bumped urgently into his groin sent his pulse racing.

She murmured something low and encouraging, firing a spark deep inside his belly. Her thighs pressed into his, her arms tight around his neck as she angled her mouth so he could take her deeper.

And just like that, he was hard and ready to go.

“Matt,” she gasped, pulling back to stare at him through passion-heavy lids. “Take me to bed.”

Then she took his hand and placed it on her breast. The guttural growl came from deep in his throat, wrenching out one word. “Angel...”

He could barely think when her pebble-hard nipple pressed eagerly into his palm. Damn it, he wanted to take his time, seduce her the right way so she’d begin to trust him. A quickie in the middle of his lounge room was not a good place to start, even if it would satisfy his lust.

But it was hard to stop when she was rubbing up against him, the firm globe of her breast in his hand, her nipple erect and ready. His fingers convulsed and he let out a groan, curling them for one agonizing second around that wonderfully soft mound, then slowly dragging his palm across the engorged nipple. She whimpered, sighed and stretched her head back, exposing her long neck.

Furious need thundered through every vein, and he took a deep breath to steady his racing thoughts. Then another.

Plans had a way of derailing, and if he didn’t put a stop to this he’d lose the ground he’d already gained. Even as his body screamed in protest, he released her and took a step back. Her eyes sprang open and the dark desire in those depths coupled with a soft moue of disappointment speared him right in the groin.

You can do this. “AJ, we need to—”

A sharp, familiar tune suddenly echoed in the heated silence.

AJ groaned. Her phone.

He frowned. “Is that...?”

“‘Young Turks’ by Rod Stewart. My sister’s choice.”

“Then you’d better get it,” he said, taking another step back.

Are you insane? AJ gave him an incredulous look. “It can wait.”

“Could be important.” His expression was shuttered and the distance he’d created spoke volumes. She blinked, watching Matt stride back into the kitchen, undoing his tie as he went, and her confusion was magnified a thousandfold. Still, Rod continued to sing, and with a sigh she reached into her clutch.

“Do you know what time it is?”

“What, did I interrupt you getting ready to go out, Miss Party Queen?” Emily said.

“No.” She turned toward the windows with a scowl. “And shouldn’t you be doing something more interesting on your Paris honeymoon than calling me?”

“Zac and I had a bet. I thought my carrier had canceled my international roaming and he disagreed.”

“You know you can check that in your settings, right?”

“And deny myself the pleasure of hearing your voice?”

AJ felt a reluctant smile form. “Well, tell Zac congrats, he won. Won what, I don’t think I want to know.”

“You hear that, darling?”

“Smart girl,” she heard Zac murmur, then came a pause, followed by a giggle. AJ’s heart twisted briefly before she brushed it off.

“If you’ve quite finished flirting with your husband, Mrs. Preston—”

“Hang on. You left a message about the apartment. How long do you need it for?”

“Not sure. A few months?” She toed off her heels and let her feet sink into the plush carpet with a sigh.

“What?” She heard her sister shift then mumble something to Zac. “What’s keeping you in Sydney that long?”

AJ paused, then finally said with a wince, “A...man?”

“You don’t sound too sure.”

“I am. I think.” She couldn’t help it—she flicked a glance toward the kitchen. The man in question was exiting with two steaming cups, tie dangling loose and hair still sexily rumpled. She glanced away and shoved a stray lock of her own hair behind her ear.

“What about your stall?” Emily said.

“I can set one up at The Rocks.”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm—what?”

“Oh, nothing. But Zac’s planning on having an open house so we’ll need the apartment by October third.”

AJ did a quick mental calculation. “Seven weeks away?”

“If you say so...” She ended on a gasp, then the phone clunked ominously in AJ’s ear.

“I’m hanging up now,” AJ called. “Bye, Zac!”

“Bye, AJ,” came her brother-in-law’s deep voice on the other end before the line cut out.

“Having a good time, are they?” Matt asked, placing her cup on the coffee table.

AJ nodded. “They’re in Paris. Who wouldn’t have fun?”

“How did they meet?”

AJ eyed him, tapping the edge of her phone gently on her chin. “He was her boss.”

“An office romance, hey?”

“Something like that.” Emily deserved to be happy. And Zac was perfect for her, despite their rocky start. Clandestine affairs didn’t always turn out well, but theirs... Well, you only had to see them together to know they were completely and totally in love. “Emily planned the perfect wedding and the perfect honeymoon.” She gave a small smile. “She’s such an organizer—unlike me. She likes things just right. She’s a true believer in love and romance and all that ‘hearts and flowers’ stuff.”

“And you’re not?”

AJ shrugged. “Oh, I believe in attraction, in passion. Love, sure. But fidelity? Soul mates?” She shrugged.

He frowned. “That’s a bit cynical. What about the millions of couples who’ve been together and stayed faithful over the years?”

“I didn’t say it doesn’t work. Just not for me.”

“Why not? What makes you so different from anyone else, AJ?”

She scowled. “Our past defines us,” she said tightly. “It makes us into the people we are.”

“So you’re saying you have no free will? That you’ll let an event or person tell you how to think and feel?”

“No!” She scowled. “But people are conditioned for self-preservation. We’re either in pursuit of things that make us feel good or protecting ourselves from hurt. And growing up, it was always the latter. My mother—” She abruptly clamped her mouth shut. That subject was a major mood killer. “Look, are we going to talk about my past or have sex?”

He took her in through hooded eyes as he slowly placed his cup on the coffee table.

She swallowed, realizing she’d said entirely the wrong thing.

“I have some work to do. I’ll probably be up awhile.”

Yep. Wrong thing. Flustered, AJ couldn’t hide her disappointment, yet he didn’t say a word, just pulled his tie free. “I’m leaving for Italy on Sunday.”

“Italy?” she said, trying to ignore the sudden feeling of loss. “Lucky you.”

He shrugged, folding his tie slowly and precisely. “It’s for work. I don’t have time to sightsee.”

“Right.” Work. It would always come first. She’d known from the start she’d have to fit in around his work schedule. But was it foolish to be just a little disappointed?

“Good night, AJ.” He picked up his coffee then turned and strode toward his office.

She glared at the door as he closed it behind him. If that wasn’t a rejection, she didn’t know what was.

It was obvious that he wanted her. So why weren’t they naked on his couch right now?

“Work,” she muttered in the cool, dark silence. “Or the ex.” Really, what other explanation could there be?

She stared at the carpet, hands on her hips. She had no reason to be angry, not when she’d actively pursued this arrangement. Hell, she should be thankful he was so work-focused because didn’t that just make everything easier?

She huffed out a sigh and stared at the closed door. “Cold shower, I guess,” she muttered, then turned toward the bathroom.