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

Six

Matt paced his office, swinging from outrage to indignation then back again. He paused at the wall, did an about turn then continued pacing.

Damn room was way too small. He scrubbed at his chin, then his cheek, before running a hand into his hair.

What the hell had just happened?

He was insulted. No, more than that—he was deeply offended. Did she really think he was that kind of guy? He snorted, hands on his hips. These past few days all made sense now: AJ’s initial coldness, then suddenly agreeing to his invitation. She wanted a convenient stud. Not him—just what he could give her.

His hands curled into fists as fury overcame him.

And yet...

He must be the worst kind of idiot, letting his need lead him around like a dog on a leash because he still wanted her. Un-fricking-believable.

He stopped and glared out the window, studying the slow ascent of a Qantas jumbo jet as it climbed into the sky. So she thought he was some kind of mindless workaholic man whore, did she? That he’d jump at her offer then happily walk away when she’d gotten what she wanted?

With a curse, he collapsed into his chair, the leather protesting under the sudden weight. AJ Reynolds was trouble. Not worth the stress. Hell, he could pick up the phone and choose from a handful of willing women for an uncomplicated lay. Since his divorce it was all he’d been prepared to give. GEM occupied his every waking moment; he’d deliberately made it that way so there’d be no room to dwell on the bitter disappointment of Katrina’s rejection.

Yet something stirred inside, reminding him of his deeply buried dreams.

Dragging a hand over his chin, he tapped one finger on his bottom lip.

“Why me?” he muttered, his gaze skimming the blue skyline until it latched on to another plane in the distance. Surely there were dozens of eager guys queuing up for the pleasure. Yet when he tried to picture AJ with another man, doing all those things they’d done, touching her, making love to her, something nasty and painful twisted in his gut.

No.

A firm knock startled him from his reverie and he turned to see a familiar figure in the doorway. “Matt? Got a minute?”

“Sure.” He straightened his shoulders and nodded.

“Really?” His head of security, James Decker, tipped his chin down and peered over the rims of his dark aviator sunglasses. “Because it looks like you’re thinking hard about something important.”

Matt sighed. “I’ve had an offer. And I’m not sure I should take it.”

Decker stepped inside the office, closing the door behind him. As always, he was dressed in black—muscle T-shirt, army pants, boots and gun belt. Matt often teased Deck about his militant vigilante look, and the head of security would always come back with, “At least I save your ass.” The black was for show, for his team to project power and confidence to the public. It often meant the difference between success and failure when faced with life-threatening situations.

“What’s the offer?” Decker asked, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“A woman, no relationship strings attached.”

Decker’s whistle came out low. “Lucky bastard. A hot woman?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“And your problem is?”

“She’s...an old flame.”

Decker’s hands went to his hips. “Crazy chick, then?”

“God, no. She’s—” Matt paused, his mouth curving in remembrance. “AJ’s perfectly sane.”

“AJ?” Decker’s brow dipped. “Not the AJ?”

Crap. He’d wondered when that night would come back to bite him in the ass. A close call in Mexico, the hotel bar, expensive whiskey... He and Deck had gotten comfortably drunk and ended up comparing a handful of regrets.

“I take it from your silence it’s the same girl,” Decker said, his look knowing. “And you want strings.”

Matt grabbed the nearest paper and glared at it, feeling his neck flush. “Forget I said anything, okay?”

“Dude, this is me you’re talking to here.” Decker grabbed a chair, straddled it and crossed his arms over the back. “I’ve saved your life a dozen times. We’ve been in the middle of Vietnam, ass-deep in mud. We’ve run from Zimbabwean vigilantes, dodged bullets in East Timor.” He grinned. “And I wasn’t that drunk. I remember everything you said.”

Matt sighed. Decker was six feet of contained Yankee firepower, all cocky American attitude and muscle with a huge gun fetish. He also happened to be his best mate, not to mention one of the most brilliant strategists he’d ever met.

“She wants more than just sex,” Matt said.

“Marriage?”

“No. A baby.” Despite the seriousness of the conversation, Decker’s curse made Matt grin. “I knew that’d get you.”

“She straight up said she wants you to father her kid?”

“Yep.”

“What’s the catch?”

“Nothing. I get her pregnant, then I can walk away.”

Decker snorted. “Like that’s gonna happen.” He looked Matt over. “So tell her no. Unless...” His eyes turned shrewd. “You want a kid. With her.”

That was the question, wasn’t it? Did he want a baby with AJ?

Deck and he had shared some moments, but he’d never told anyone this. It meant he’d have to admit that the complicated wound of losing his brother and Katrina’s rejection was still fresh in his mind, even four years on.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Decker said.

Yeah, the guy wasn’t dumb. Not by a long shot.

Decker drummed his fingers on the back of the chair. “Is it possible she’s lying to trap you?”

Matt grunted. “Nope. She was painfully clear she just wants a donor.”

“Huh.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You still have a thing for her.”

Matt’s frown deepened. “What makes you say that?”

Decker shrugged. “A, because of what you told me all those years ago, and B, because we’re still talking about it. You’ve never put this much thought into a woman before.”

“So I have a problem.”

“Not really. Dude, you live for a challenge. We wouldn’t have half our clients without your Mister Charm-and-Persuasion routine. And do I need to list all the women who’ve succumbed to your moody charm?” He ticked them off on his fingers. “Snooty French heiress. Billionaire ice queen. Italian model...”

“AJ’s different,” Matt interrupted.

“I’m getting that loud and clear. Are you?” Decker gave him a meaningful look. “There’s obviously something still there. You won’t know if you don’t make an effort.”

“Yeah, but—”

“I’m just saying that if anyone can convince a woman to fall in love with them, it’s you. Who wouldn’t want the great and powerful Matthew Cooper?” He grinned and stood. “You know the drill—background, assessment, decision, follow-through. I’ll come back later and we can talk about our Italian job.”

Long after Decker had left Matt stared at the closed door.

Background. Assessment. Decision. Follow-through. “BADFIT” was GEM’s standard operating procedure when deciding to take on a new client. Yet this was AJ they were talking about, not another job. It wasn’t designed for this kind of situation.

Didn’t mean it wouldn’t work.

There was only one way to find out.

He reached for the phone and dialed.

* * *

“Final call for Flight DJ 512 to the Gold Coast. Would all passengers for Flight DJ 512 please make their way to gate twenty-seven as your plane is now ready for takeoff.”

AJ rushed off the moving walkway, readjusted the satchel strap across her shoulders, then broke into a jog, wheeling her suitcase behind her. Her sneakers squeaked on the polished floor as the Sydney terminal windows flashed by. Twenty-four, twenty-five...

Twenty-seven. She ground to a halt, shoving back a loose curl from her ponytail. The line was still a dozen people deep.

With a relieved sigh, she dug in her bag and grabbed the boarding pass. The cheap ticket was nonrefundable and she wasn’t about to impose on her brother-in-law’s generosity and squat another night in his newly built Potts Point apartment, not when he had potential buyers waiting in the wings.

Just then her phone rang, and after three rings she finally found it at the bottom of her bag.

It was Matthew. She shuffled forward in the line. “Yes?”

“Where are you?”

She frowned, eyeing the moving queue. “Why?”

“We need to talk.”

“Please remember all phones must be turned off,” the flight attendant politely announced, her gaze lingering on AJ as she reached out for her boarding pass. AJ shook her head and stepped out of line, allowing a man in a business suit to grumble past.

She fiddled with her bag strap. “Look, I’m just about to get on a plane. If you want to yell at me again—”

“I just want to talk about your...proposal.”

“Ma’am? Are you boarding?” The flight attendant’s respectful smile flickered with impatience.

“AJ?” Matt said in her ear.

AJ wavered as she eyed the cavernous departure tunnel that would take her back to her life. A vaguely unsatisfying life, one that lacked true purpose and follow-through after she’d finally decided what she wanted.

“What do you want to say?” she finally asked.

She heard him sigh. “Can we not do this over the phone?”

“My flight is boarding, Matt. Unless you have a spare ticket to compensate me for my fare—”

“Done. I’ll pick you up downstairs in twenty minutes.”

“But—”

“You wanted to talk. So we’ll talk.”

She sighed. That didn’t mean he’d say anything she wanted to hear. She wasn’t about to get her hopes up to have him crush them all over again: she’d done that once and look where that had gotten her.

“You still there?”

“Yes.” She rubbed at the spot behind her ear, tugging on the lobe.

“AJ, you’re asking for my help. I need to know details before I commit either way.”

“Miss,” the flight attendant said, her smile tight. “I’ll need to have your boarding pass.”

That’s when AJ finally made a choice. “Okay,” she said into the phone, numbly shaking her head at the attendant and turning away. “Twenty minutes.”

Seven

AJ waited in the pickup bay, hesitant anticipation congealing in her stomach. The longer she stood there, the tighter her nerves got. Did this mean he’d changed his mind about her proposal? Surely it did. He wouldn’t make her miss her flight just to tell her what a dumb idea it was, right?

Still, it didn’t stop her from nervously humming The Wizard of Oz theme song under her breath. “Somewhere Over the Rainbow”—a familiar soothing song she used to sing to Emily when they were kids, drowning out their parents on a drunken bender, partying loudly at two in the morning. While strangers passed out in the bathroom or stormed up and down the hall, Emily had crawled into AJ’s bed and they’d held each other in the scary dark. And AJ had waveringly sung that song about hopes and dreams and following them to find a better place.

Don’t think about them. Think about yourself, about what’s happening right here, right now.

By the time she spotted the sleek ash-gray Jaguar purring up to the parking bay, she’d worked herself into a state. Yet she still noticed a dozen pairs of eyes swivel to take in the sporty car, their gaze running over the smooth lines with a mix of envy, joy and blatant lust.

Then Matt eased from the driver’s seat and she could swear she heard the appreciative murmurs, even over the general chaos of Sydney airport.

He was dressed for serious business—dark gray suit, white shirt, green tie, mirrored sunglasses. He wore the clothes on his lean frame with such casual elegance, a commanding uniform that befitted the CEO of a national corporation. Then he pushed up his glasses and rounded the car in a few strides, leaning down to grab her carry-on. But when his hand went to her shoulder, she instinctively stepped back.

He frowned. “Can I take your bag?”

Embarrassment made her flush. “Oh, yeah. Sure.”

He gently eased the strap down, his knuckles grazing her arm, and she barely had time to get flustered before he was hoisting it over his shoulder, then turning to open the passenger door.

She took the opportunity to note the way his jacket tightened across his back when he leaned in to deposit her bags in the tiny backseat. The touchable skin where collar met neck. And the firm way those long-fingered hands grasped the door as he motioned for her to get in.

AJ took a breath and did just that.

It wasn’t often she got to revel in the luxury of a sleek European car. Zac guarded his Porsche like the thing was made of eighteen-carat gold, and her bomby Getz was hardly in the same league. But this...this was heaven: soft suede seats cupping her bottom, the distinct smell of money, new car and leather permeating the air. She sat low, way too low, and the sensation was an odd mix of indulgence and discomfort.

“Since when do you have a Jag?” she asked as he buckled up.

“I got it last year.” She barely heard the engine kick in before he glanced over his shoulder, turned the steering wheel and merged into traffic while the radio played softly through the speakers. “The Sultan of El-Jahir was very generous.”

She blinked. “El-Jahir? Where’s that?”

“Tiny independent island off the coast of Africa. The palace guards staged a coup and GEM treated the Sultan’s third wife after a hostage drama.”

“And he gave you a Jag.”

“He originally offered one of his daughters.”

AJ snorted out a laugh. “And you turned him down?”

“I’m not the arranged-marriage type.”

Their moment of levity lapsed into elongated silence as they made their way out onto Qantas Drive.

“So you said you wanted to talk,” she finally said.

His eyes remained on the road. “Out of all the men you know, why me?”

Her mouth thinned. “All the men I know? How many do you think I know, Matt?”

His startled gaze met hers. “I didn’t mean it that way. I...” He returned his attention to the road and frowned. “You were a free spirit—impulsive, crazy. Up for anything. And,” he added when she opened her mouth, “I was the one with the rules and the life plan. I’d always figured you’d end up with a guy more on your wavelength.” He flicked her a brief glance. “You didn’t meet someone else after me?”

“I met a few someone elses. You didn’t ruin me for every other man, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“Good to know.”

“You don’t sound glad.”

“I am.” The car purred along the road, dashing past the huge Etihad Airlines billboard and DHL’s avant garde cube sculpture. “Me, I got married.”

“Yeah, so you said. Let me guess...” She paused, taking the moment to study his profile, unashamedly lingering on the aquiline nose and full lips. “A church wedding with lots of influential colleagues on the guest list. The reception was probably at some swanky Sydney restaurant—Rockpool. Maybe Luke Mangan’s place at the Hilton. The bride’s dress would’ve been sleek and classic, something subdued but gorgeously elegant. A society queen—no,” AJ amended, “another doctor, someone beautiful and ambitious and parent-approved.”

Matt said nothing, the Jaguar purring softly in the silence as they drove.

“Am I right?” AJ probed.

He shrugged. “Pretty much.”

Despite everything, the confirmation still stung. Huh. She’d never been parent-approved.

She thought back to a night she’d rather forget, a moment when she’d gone against every survival instinct, every ingrained memory from her fractured past and put herself out there, only to have her hopes destroyed seconds later.

She crossed her arms, pushing back into the leather seat. She had to focus on the here and now, not dwell on the past. It was how she survived, how she’d always survived.

“So why do you want a baby?” Matt asked.

A million reasons that she didn’t have the time or inclination to discuss because that would mean talking about her past and her emotions. And those two things were off-limits. Instead, she settled on the most urgent one. “Because there’s a possibility I can’t. Three months ago I had surgery for ovarian cysts and they found extensive scarring. Apparently, I have a less than a thirty percent chance of conceiving.”

His brief glance spoke volumes yet revealed nothing. “Why me?”

She turned, giving him her full attention. “Why not you? We know each other, and we’re sexually compatible. I won’t make any emotional or financial demands. You not only get no-strings-attached sex, but you also won’t have the hassle of a baby. Life will go on as normal.” She shrugged. “We both win.”

What the hell could Matt say to that?

She wanted him to make a baby. Only she didn’t want him around afterward. The situation was laughable except he’d never felt like laughing less in his entire life.

He made a quick left turn and they pulled into a side street. After he cranked on the handbrake and cut the engine, he turned to face her.

“Well?” she said, arching her eyebrows. She looked confident, her hands clasped in her lap, her head tilted just so, a firm, almost fierce look in her eyes. He remembered that look. He’d missed it.

He’d missed her.

His gut bottomed out. After all these years, after every turn his life had taken, how could that be? But the truth sat right there in his passenger seat, her flame-red hair pulled back in an efficient ponytail, her lean body inadvertently emphasized by jeans and a fitted T.

She’d made it clear what she wanted, and it didn’t include him.

He’d worked hard to get where he was. Whenever he decided to pursue a goal, he committed everything to it. He hated the failure that his divorce had wrought, hated that Katrina had not only ridiculed his suggestion that they start a family but also had refused point-blank to even consider it. And now here was AJ, a ghost from his past, offering up his deepest desire. After Katrina’s refusal he’d managed to bury those feelings deep, focusing instead on forging a new career from the tattered remnants.

The irony was that AJ had no idea. She still thought he was some career-driven workaholic robot, motivated by success and money. Yet he was no longer the man she knew from back then, that young, overscheduled, goal-oriented man for whom career and the great Cooper name came first and foremost.

Decker was right. Everything he’d pursued he’d gotten—his position as chief surgeon at Saint Cat’s, GEM, various bed partners following Katrina. As a doctor, he’d been acutely aware of human frailty, the crazy ways a person’s life could hinge on the actions of others. Yet he was also a big believer in fate. He’d never been able to replicate the magic he’d had with AJ, not even with Katrina. But now, incredibly, he was being handed a second chance.

Fate.

Was he crazy? Maybe. But right now, he had the eerie feeling that if he said no to AJ, if he didn’t put in the effort to make another go of it, he’d lose her and she’d have their happy ending with someone else.

You’re actually going to make a woman fall in love with you? He could imagine Paige’s incredulity just before she burst out laughing.

This was no laughing matter. He had no intention of walking away—didn’t want to walk away. AJ had chosen him, had come to him.

Fate.

He eyeballed her as she waited patiently for his answer.

“So there’s been no one else?”

AJ slowly slid her sunglasses off, placed them high on her head, then met his direct look with one of her own. “One guy loved going out with his mates more than me. One preferred his collection of Lord of the Rings action figures. Another had three girls on the go. And one...” She paused. Those battle scars still stung—no doubt would still sting—for years to come. But their presence also proved she was doing the right thing.

“What happened?”

“He came close.” She shrugged. No naïveté for her again. “But then I found out he was married and cheating on his wife.” At his gently murmured curse she shrugged. “See? Asshats.”

“You’re still young, AJ. Only thirty-two. There’s still plenty of time to—”

“God help me, if you say, ‘you’ll find someone,’ I am so going to smack you.”

He clamped his mouth shut and stared out the windshield, the faint strains of traffic barely discernible in the background. “So you’ve decided to approach motherhood alone,” he said.

“Yes.”

He paused, eyebrow raised, waiting for her to elaborate.

She sighed and gripped the seat belt still strapped across her chest. “Given my single status and my low chances of getting pregnant, I’d booked an appointment with a fertility clinic, but that fell through and I have to wait six months for another.”