The Pregnancy Plot

by Paula Roe

  Her sigh was envious. “See, that’s my only problem with Australia—we’re too far from the rest of the world.”

  He watched her methodically butter her roll then take a bite, releasing a small murmur of delight as her teeth tore into the bread. “Still love bread, huh?”

  She nodded with a sheepish grin, demurely placing the rest of the roll on her side plate. “I’m surprised you remember. Most men I know have this innate ability to delete great chunks of information from their brains.” She grinned, taking the edge off.

  “Not me.” He leaned in, extending one arm so his hand rested a bare millimeter from hers.

  AJ tried—but failed—to ignore that hand so dangerously close to hers. “That’s right. You’re the only guy I know with total recall.”

  “Now that was a great movie. The original, not the remake.”

  She quirked her eyebrows. “I didn’t know you were an Arnold fan.”

  “Oh, there’s a lot about me you don’t know.”

  “Like...?” It was out before she could stop it, before she could remind herself of her three rules.

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

  But she did care. She was only human.

  He reached out, tracing one finger over her knuckles. “I sang at the Opera House once.”

  “Get out! You did not.”

  “Did so. It was a statewide school thing, with the best from each primary school choir performing for two nights.”

  “So you can sing.”

  He shrugged. “Not spectacularly, but yeah.”

  “Are you trying to impress me?” She smiled as the waitress arrived with their meals.

  “Is it working?”

  “Maybe.”

  He threw back his head and laughed, and the rich deep sound warmed her from the inside out. Lord, she’d missed that laugh. Missed the way his eyes creased at the corners, the way that sensuous mouth curved into something sinful.

  She settled into eating her meal. The chicken was delicious, cooked in a creamy sauce with just a hint of rosemary and oregano. She took another mouthful and murmured under her breath.

  “Good?” Matt asked.

  She nodded. “You should try this.” She’d already cut off a piece, offering her fork, when the memory hit. Another time, another place. Sharing one of many meals, getting through only a few bites before they’d given in to another craving. The food had been stone cold by the time they’d returned, flushed and physically sated.

  He leaned in to take her offering. With a grin he chewed, eyes never leaving hers. “Delicious. Do you want to try mine?”

  Yes. “Okay.”

  She was fully aware of his scrutiny as she parted her lips, slipped the steak in, then let the fork slowly ease from her mouth. The peppery sauce hinted at a few familiar herbs—pesto, basil, a little garlic. She nodded, swallowing. “Wow.”

  “Yeah.”

  The seconds lengthened, intimacy warming the moment. Shadows and light flickered over them and suddenly his eyes turned way too serious.

  AJ broke his gaze and focused on her plate instead.

  They finished their meals and the waitress arrived to take their plates. “Would you like to see the dessert menu?” she asked, stacking everything expertly on one hand.

  Matt raised an eyebrow at AJ in silent question. She shook her head. The meal had dragged on long enough and her nerves were at breaking point.

  “Coffee?”

  She shook her head again, but Matt said, “An espresso would be good.”

  She glared at him as the waitress left but he just smiled. “Always in a rush, Angel. I remember that about you.”

  She leaned back in her chair and huffed out a breath. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Making me...” Impatient. Aroused. Frustrated. She clenched her teeth. “You know, you can be irritating sometimes, Matthew Cooper.”

  He leaned in. “I can be irritating? Let’s see. I remember one particular night in my pool—”

  “Stop.”

  “—when you performed a particularly frustrating striptease for me and—”

  “Stop!” she hissed through her teeth. “Are you trying to embarrass me?”

  “Ah, Angel. The fine art of teasing was never your strong point. At least,” he added, his eyes glinting, “not verbally, anyway.”

  What could she say to that?

  “I’m going to the bathroom.” She grabbed her clutch and rose.

  Teasing? I’ll give him teasing. She deliberately put a sway in her hips, knowing Matt was watching every step she took.

  Serves him right.

  * * *

  She pushed open the door to the ladies’ room with an exasperated huff. Was he punishing her—was that it? But why? Because she’d asked him to father her child? Because he was attracted to her and...what, he was angry about that?

  Or was it something deeper? Something older...maybe ten years old?

  AJ strode over to the long vanity and paused in front of the mirror. With one expert finger she smoothed her eyeliner, then dug around in her bag for her lipstick. He’d broken up with her. He’d moved on, gotten married.

  Her reflection blinked back at her. If he could compartmentalize this, so could she.

  Her heart contracted as she swept the Revlon lipstick across her mouth, then pressed her lips together. He’d not only gone through a demanding childhood, but he’d also had to deal with the death of his brother, turning that loss into the motivation for creating GEM, a major global rescue company. Drive and determination were two qualities that defined Matthew Cooper, no matter what he did in life. He wanted something, so he pursued it; his medical degree and GEM were proof of that.

  Well, she was determined, too.

  AJ capped the lipstick, smoothed her hair down, then scrunched the ends to boost the curl. “Time to move this thing along,” she murmured, taking one last look at her vampy reflection before turning to the door.

  She strode back across the crowded dining floor, ignoring the handful of men watching her progress. Only one guy was in her sights right now, and he was downing his coffee with the smooth efficiency of someone impatient to be somewhere else.

  Alrighty, then.

  When she stopped at their table, Matt glanced up.

  “Are you ready to go?” she said. He took her in for only a second, maybe more, but it was enough to send a shiver over her skin.

  “Yes.” He abruptly stood, and she had to take a quick step back as he invaded her personal space. Then he reached for her hand, linking his fingers through hers, and her insides sent up a little cheer.

  This was it. The moment she’d been waiting for all night.

  She was ready.

  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 sa
id. 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.