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

“I’m perfectly capable of seeing myself to my room,” she said tartly.

He lifted his hand, her thin handbag strap dangling from one finger. “You know, that hairstyle really doesn’t suit you.”

She grasped her bag strap. “I’m supposed to be a demure bridesmaid.”

He refused to relinquish the bag. “Demure?”

She watched his gaze go past her shoulder to the people coming and going from the hotel. “Give me my bag.”

With a small tug, he drew her closer. “I’m staying at the Palazzo Versace. Have lunch with me tomorrow.”

Her heart leaped for one second before she ruthlessly shot down that eager spark. “No.”

“You have something else planned?”

“Yes.”

“You can tell me more about your paintings.”

Oh, you are smooth, Matthew Cooper. From his languid, willpower-melting smile to the way his head tilted, she knew he knew she was attracted. She’d made some colossal mistakes in her past, but denying her body’s desires was not one of them.

How long had it been?

Too long. A familiar sliver of excitement prickled just before she sighed and tugged at her bag again. In response, he tightened his grip and tugged back.

“Damn it, Matt, give me my—”

He took her hand and threaded his fingers through hers. The gentle slide of warm flesh, the firm conviction as he curled his hand around hers had her blood leaping to life.

Matthew had beautiful hands, with smooth sun-darkened skin and lean fingers. Perfect surgeon’s hands, miracle instruments of power and talent, whether he was performing intricate lifesaving surgery or bringing her to a panting climax.

Her breath gurgled in her throat.

He began to stroke her knuckles with his thumb. That shockingly personal intimacy did her in, scattering all rational thought.

Then he firmly drew her forward and, in the middle of the hotel entrance in front of a dozen milling guests, placed a kiss square on her mouth.

Alarm made her pulse skyrocket, yet familiar desire dissolved any objections. His mouth was as warm and skillful as she remembered. Her whole body took barely a second to recover, to remember, then it was off and running, eager for more as her eyes fluttered closed and she kissed him back.

She didn’t care that his lips curved into a knowing, way-too-confident smile beneath hers. All she could think of was that mouth, tasting of coffee and something forbidden, urging hers wider, devouring her; then his tongue as he gently eased her open and dove inside.

Damn him. He knew how to turn a woman on.

A group of hotel guests abruptly surrounded them, cheering and whistling, edging past with alcohol-infused enthusiasm and bringing with them movement and noise and sudden clarity.

She pulled back and Matthew reached out to steady her, his breath warm across her cheek. When their hips bumped, then their shoulders, a frisson of delight shivered up her spine.

AJ barely noticed the brief, cheerful apologies as the crowd moved on. All she noticed were Matthew’s warm palms cupping her elbows, his soapy-fresh scent and his breath as it feathered across her bare shoulder.

“Want to change your mind about me seeing you to your room?” he murmured in her ear, his deep accented baritone making her nerves dance.

“No.”

He grinned. “So lunch tomorrow?”

“Contrary to popular belief, the world doesn’t revolve around you, Matthew Cooper.” She dug in her bag for her phone and checked the time. “I have things to do tomorrow.”

“Dinner, then.”

She sighed. Sharing food with him, making small talk, was the last thing on her wish list, especially after her appointment tomorrow.

He reached out and took her phone. She scowled. “What are you—?”

He flicked it on and dialed. “Here’s my number.” He paused and his phone trilled from somewhere inside his jacket. Then he returned hers. “Lunch tomorrow.”

With a confident grin, he turned and strode back to the car.

She glared at his broad back. Of all the arrogant...

The Bentley finally drove off. With a sigh, she turned on her heel and walked into the hotel foyer. This wasn’t a problem. She’d just call tomorrow and cancel. There’d be nothing he could do about it, after all.

Yet it didn’t stop the niggling feeling that she was throwing away the chance to have Matthew back in her bed again.

Irritated, she punched the elevator button. Sure, she’d lusted. She’d wanted. She’d desired. But she’d never completely offered him her heart and he’d never demanded it. She’d been young and reckless, reveling in life, and he’d been the perfect fling. Yet despite her oh-so-mature outlook on the whole affair, he’d still managed to bruise her.

Matthew Cooper was part of her past, not her future. If she was an expert at anything, it was moving on and letting the past stay buried.

Three

AJ perched on the edge of her chair in the discreet Brisbane fertility clinic, hands clasped firmly in her lap.

She’d managed to get a grasp on her emotions, wrapping them with prudent caution. Yet she couldn’t stop the edginess that rose up, catching her breath and making her heart kick.

Forget about Matthew Cooper and just get on with your original plan.

Dr. Sanjay flicked open the file on his desk. “How are you today, Miss Reynolds?”

“Fine. Nervous.”

He looked up from the file and peered over his glasses with a smile. “So, this is your second consult. Dr. McGregor did your full checkup and discussed the realities of getting pregnant with you?”

“Yes.”

He kept reading. “It says here you had surgery three months ago for ovarian cysts.”

“Yes, my surgeon did say my chances of conception were low. Thirty percent.”

“You have quite a bit of scarring—”

“But thirty percent is better than nothing, right?”

He sighed, then gave a reluctant nod. “It doesn’t mean it’s impossible—just difficult. But it will be time consuming, and fertilization may not happen the first, second or even the fifth time. And it can be draining, physically, mentally and financially.” He glanced back down at the file. “You’ve already chosen a donor from our files, I see.”

She nodded.

“Okay.” Sanjay flipped open the file, then frowned. “One moment.” He reached for the phone and made a call. When he hung up, he slowly removed his glasses, closed the folder and fixed her with a silent, considering gaze.

Uh-oh. She nervously twisted the handles of her handbag. “What’s wrong?”

“Miss Reynolds, I’m sorry but we cannot proceed at this time.”

Her mouth gaped. “Why not?”

“I’ve been advised your donor is no longer available.” He gave her a sympathetic smile.

“What?”

“Your donor cancelled his appointment,” Sanjay said calmly. “This means—”

AJ stared blankly at the manila folder as the doctor’s explanation faded into the background. No. No! This could not be happening.

“Miss Reynolds?” the doctor repeated gently. “Did you hear me? How do you want to proceed?”

“What do you mean?”

He paused, silently studying her as if trying to assess her mental state. “You’ll need to make another donor choice and then we can go from there. You’ll need to make another appointment with reception.”

He slid a business card across his desk, almost as if he’d been waiting for the cue, but all she could do was stare at him. “But...but...I don’t... It took me three months to get this one! Can’t I just—”

“I am sorry about the long wait time but we are fully booked. And I am legally bound to follow procedure.” He straightened the files on his desk, then fixed her with a polite smile. “You need time to make a decision and once you have, we can discuss everything at our next appointment. Now, can I help you with anything else?”

AJ shook her head and took the card, her fingers surprisingly steady.

When she finally strode outside, the bright morning sun seared away the vague clinical aroma and the doctor’s sympathetic but hands-tied expression. Slipping on her sunglasses, she crossed the road to the parking lot and dug out her phone.

She found her car—a third-hand, beat-up red Hyundai Getz—and slipped into the driver’s seat.

Just what was she going to do now?

She stared at the cracked steering wheel, her mind a total blank. Another three months. Could she wait that long? She’d done her research—she knew anxiety and worry played a huge factor in getting pregnant. And there was no guarantee the first time would work anyway. She’d been on a dozen different blogs and forums where women openly shared their stories—the injections, the schedules, prime ovulation times, family pressure, aching optimism and the deep, dark lows of constant negative tests. She’d read about women making the agonizing choice of stopping fertility treatments after years of stress, only to fall pregnant months later when the pressure was off. Her head had spun with overload.

She could spend years chasing this dream. And where would she get the money? She’d never had a loan in her life and there was no way she’d stoop to sponging off Emily. Big sisters looked out for the little ones; they didn’t demand handouts.

Her mind was a whirling mass of chaos, thoughts flying everywhere, so it took a few seconds to realize her phone was ringing. Confused, she finally grabbed it and stared at the screen.

Her sharp laugh shattered the still air. It was Matthew. Great.

“Yes?”

“Just checking you’ll be here for lunch.”

His deep voice, combined with that polished accent, sent her thoughts into further turmoil. She glanced at her watch. Ten o’clock. It felt like she’d been in there for hours. “Probably not. I’m in Brisbane.”

There was a pause. “Later, then. The Versace does an exceptional high tea.”

She opened her mouth to refuse, but a sudden insidious thought struck her speechless.

Oh. My. God.

She shook her head. No.

But wait! What if...? No, you can’t.

Sure, you can.

She took a deep breath, then another.

“AJ?”

“I’m thinking,” she replied, dragging a hand through her hair.

“Don’t take too long,” he murmured. “Time’s ticking away.”

Never a truer word was spoken. Her forbidden idea slowly took shape. Matthew Cooper had the power to grant her most desperate wish. He was the perfect male specimen. The perfect candidate. The key to her plan.

Matt could give me a baby.

Yes! No! Indecision warred inside before she finally overrode her doubts and chose a side.

“I’ll be there at one,” she said and turned the key in the ignition.

* * *

Matt hadn’t actually expected her to say yes. Now, as he waited in the Palazzo Versace’s opulent coffee lounge, he wondered if this was such a good idea.

His entire life was a study in cool-headed decision-making. He made plans, logical moves, well-informed choices. Choices that had furthered his career, challenged his intellect and increased his standing in the medical community. And when he’d reached his personal crisis point, that cool head had led him to a new calling.

Yet he’d impulsively asked AJ out. In the space of an evening, she’d managed to rub off on him.

Hell, he never could control himself around her.

He shook his head and glanced over at the reception area for the fifth time in as many minutes. Circular couches with plump sun-yellow cushions were scattered throughout the foyer and the sleek, intricately tiled marble entrance bore the familiar Versace logo. Some said this five-star Gold Coast hotel blurred the line between lavish and garish, but he loved it. It was private, the staff was discreet and service was top-notch. He never stayed anywhere else when he was in Surfers.

He glanced up again, and when he spotted a familiar figure walking through the huge glass doors, her low strappy heels clicking sharply on the tiled floor, his thoughts fled like predawn shadows at sunrise.

He’d recognize that distinctive red hair anywhere, even if it was tied back in a controlled ponytail. He also noticed how her brow was furrowed in concentration.

AJ had a habit of frowning when she didn’t agree with what was being said, those tiny disapproving lines momentarily creasing her forehead before she opened her mouth and began challenging, questioning.

She may look like a Renaissance painting, but her brain was firmly twenty-first century.

He ran his eyes over her, taking in the beacon of hair, the soft lemon cardigan over a modestly cut cream sundress, the silver sandals on her feet. She looked...demure. Again. A word he’d never consider for a woman who’d worn screaming-orange and electric-blue with impunity, who’d rocked short denim shirts and sexy off-the-shoulder tops, who laughed and loved equally with impulsive, joyous abandon.

Burning curiosity sparked in him as he strode across the foyer.

When she finally noticed his approach, a smile replaced her frown. It was all-encompassing, defining those high cheekbones and creasing her clear blue eyes. It felt as if he was the only guy in the world and she was smiling just for him. And yeah, it also jammed the words in his throat as if he were a boy with his first crush.

Irritating and arousing—that was AJ to a T.

So he did the only thing he could—smiled in return, took her arm and placed a kiss on her cheek. She stilled in surprise, and he immediately pulled back, decorum warring with craving.

“How...?” She swallowed then went on breathily, “How are you?”

Suddenly needing to do more than kiss your cheek.

“Hungry. Are you?” he asked thickly.

“Not particularly.”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, AJ sensed the danger. It was like fire crackling to life, flaring up to bathe her in delicious heat. His eyes were dark, full of forbidden promise, and suddenly AJ recalled another time, another place, where they’d forgone food and instead feasted on each other until dawn crept into the sky.

She dropped her gaze.

His palm cupped her elbow in a soft caress. “I’ve arranged for us to eat outside. Come.”

She let him lead her past the huge windows with a view of a massive, Greco-Roman-style pool and fountains sparkling in the afternoon sun, then out the doors. A bead of sweat formed in the small of her back, and she slipped her sunglasses on. The water looked so inviting.

“Have you been here before?” he asked, his hand a warm brand on her as they wove their way through the pristine cabanas ringing the pool.

“Once, for dinner.” Zac and Emily had treated her, and she’d spent the whole time stroking the chair and lusting after the dinner plates.

They stopped in front of a cabana, where a female server greeted them. “Good afternoon, Dr. Cooper. Your afternoon tea is ready. Would you like me to serve you now?”

“No, that’s fine. Thank you.” When he smiled, AJ swore she saw a blush rise in the girl’s cheeks before she nodded and left them.

Their private air-conditioned cabana looked like a sheikh’s tent. She glanced around, noting the cotton-draped walls and roof and the table on the far side that held coffee and tea jugs warming on heating plates. A love seat against another wall was scattered with a dozen cushions displaying the distinctive Versace pattern. Two recliners flanked a low table that held an elegant three-tiered display of sweet and savory treats that made AJ’s mouth water.

Matt nodded to the chairs. “Take a seat.”

She hesitated, then toed off her shoes before settling into the lounge with a sigh. After her crazy morning this was a welcome respite, despite Matt’s surreal presence amid the luxurious five-star hotel aura.

He took a seat across from her at the low table. She focused on the spread before them.

“Is that smoked salmon? And cream cheese?”

“Your favorite, right?”

She sighed. “You always knew how to make me smile, Matthew Cooper.”

His mouth grazed her bottom lip before he reached for her coffee cup and began to fill it. “I’m planning on doing much more than that.”

Oh, wow. She didn’t care that her answering grin was full of girlish giddiness, nor that anticipation made her hand tremble as she took her cup.

“Really.” She took a sip, eyeing him over the rim.

“You told me you hated playing games, remember?” He met her firm look with one of his own. “I’m just being honest.”

Yes, he was. She looked away, unable to hold his gaze any longer. Here’s your chance. Ask him now. She replaced her cup and reached for a tiny smoked salmon sandwich. “So how long were you married?”

He paused, a sliver of bread roll halfway to his mouth. “Does it matter? It’s over.”

“It doesn’t.” She shrugged. “I’m just curious.”

“Her name was Katrina,” he finally said, then popped the food into his mouth and slowly chewed. “We were married for three years. You?”

“Oh, no. Not me.” A memory flashed by, but she swallowed the bitter ashes with a neutral expression as she selected another morsel from the platter. “And you left Saint Cat’s.” She nibbled on the finger sandwich. Chicken and pesto—delicious.

“To start my own company.”

But why? The question hovered on her tongue but she swallowed it back. Did she really need to know?

She took a sip of coffee, studiously avoiding his gaze as she finished the chicken and pesto, then picked a mini chocolate croissant. She bit into it and gave a small murmur as the buttery pastry crumbled in her mouth.

“Good?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“I thought you’d like it.”

“Oh, you did?” She licked her bottom lip, picking up a stray crumb. And just as she expected, Matt’s gaze honed right on in, watching her as she slowly licked one finger, then her thumb.

Her breath staggered on the intake. There was nothing to stop her from leaning over the table and suggesting she was hungry for something more than food. Hell, this cabana was just as good as a private room—they could get naked right here, right now, and no one would suspect a thing.

Yet something made her hesitate. This was Matt. The guy she’d shared a bed with for six whole months. The guy she’d been prepared to let down all her defensive walls for, only to be dumped that same night. The guy who’d been her benchmark, who’d made her vow never to be that vulnerable again.

“Matt...” she began, then paused when he abruptly stood.

He was staring down at her with such intensity that the rest of her words gurgled in her throat. She knew that look. It still made her legs weak even after all these years.

“Come with me.”

When he rounded the table and held out his hand, she was lost.

His fingers wrapped firmly around hers, slowly drawing her to her feet, to him. Her heart hammered as she stared into those dark eyes, that crazy feeling of anticipation simultaneously scaring and exciting her.

Kiss me.

As if she’d spoken aloud his eyes dipped, then his head, and everything fell out of focus. She felt her eyes close, the familiar arousal bubbling up in her belly. Yet when he was barely a breath away, when her senses were full of his delicious scent, her breath ragged and her belly tight, he stopped.

She’d been leaning in, practically begging for him to kiss her. With a small sound of frustration, she opened her eyes and saw him grinning.

Then he turned and pulled her with him.

They left the cabana in silence, her shoes forgotten as they moved swiftly past the pool. AJ barely had time to register the scorching hot tiles beneath her feet before they were inside the cool foyer, Matt leading her to the long bank of elevators. He pressed the button and then looped his arm around her waist, pressing his warm body into her back.

His solid heat made her mind reel. It had been too long since she’d been this intimate with a man. She’d missed having a pair of strong arms hold her, a hot hard body intimately pressed against hers.

When the elevator pinged open, they rushed inside. He swiped his card, then turned to face her when the doors slid smoothly shut.

And she was staring right back at him.

He was tall, well over six feet, and although she was hardly short, her shoulder barely reached his bicep. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the elevator mirrors—conservative hairstyle, demure dress. Hardly the outfit for a seductress, yet he’d—

He swooped in and kissed her.

It was a hot, determined kiss designed to awaken and arouse, a kiss she recalled stirring her from sleep and into full-blown desire in seconds flat. It was just as good—no, even better than—last night. Her fingers curled around his biceps and the tension in those muscles matched the scorching pressure of his mouth. He took fierce control, forcing her mouth open, and with a squeak of surprise she let him in. Everything throbbed—her skin, her pulse, her groin. His arousal pressed between them, a hard reality against the thin barrier of their clothes.

“Angel,” he breathed. AJ groaned as memories engulfed her. It was the one word he’d always whispered when he brought her to climax again and again.

She barely registered the elevator had come to a stop. Matt suddenly pulled back, spinning her to face the front with a wicked gleam just before the doors slid open.

An elderly woman got on and AJ murmured a polite greeting, her face warm and her blood pounding. Matt was standing behind her, his hands stuck casually in his pant pockets, studying the glowing numbers as they continued their ascent. Yet his thigh nestled firmly against her bottom, heat searing through her thin dress.

She stared at the slowly changing floor numbers until her nerves felt so tight they began to scream.

What on earth do you think you’re doing?

She never dwelled on the past or rehashed it. Moving on was what she did, what she’d always done. She’d come to terms with it all, had matured, grown.

So why was she still thinking about it?

She’d been twenty-three. They’d both gone into their affair with a mutual understanding it was only temporary. Of course his career had come first. Saint Catherine’s up-and-coming neurosurgeon didn’t belong with an addict’s daughter and runaway thief.

When their fellow passenger got off on the tenth floor, AJ took an unsteady breath. I am me. AJ Reynolds. I am not the broken product of those awful people. I have a sister who loves me. I have friends. I am smart. I love animals. I don’t cheat or lie. I’m a good person.

So would a good person manipulate and seduce to get what she wanted?

Matt gently urged her forward, breaking into her thoughts. She glanced up to see they’d reached the top floor just before the doors quietly opened onto the long plush hallway.

Sweat popped out in the small of her back. She could feel the tickle as it slowly slid down, down, until her dress eventually absorbed it.

“AJ?”

She squeezed her eyes shut as his hand cupped her hip, the familiar firmness creating alternate bursts of doubt and desire in her belly.

You can do this.

The corridor was way too long, its walls adorned with exclusive hand-drawn Versace designs in gilt frames. Then finally they were at his door, a huge, dark wooden thing emblazoned with a fresco of classic Greek gods and a gold number three. He opened it with his card and she caught her first glimpse of the amazing decor inside the cavernous penthouse suite along with a sliver of blue sky from the huge patio windows. As she hesitated at the threshold, he gently pulled her against him. Her bottom connected with his groin and his lips went to her nape.

She gasped. With one hand braced on the door frame, he looped the other low across her belly.

“I want you in my bed, Angel,” he murmured in her ear, his hot breath and rough stubble sending tiny waves of longing over her skin. “I want to have you beneath me, above me, around me.”

He shifted, the truth of his arousal solid against her butt.

Sinful memories flooded in to hijack her senses. In his pool, slick and hot in the moonlight. On the beach at sunrise, a scratchy blanket against her bare back. And late one night in the kitchen, naked and laughing when they’d realized they’d left the blinds open so anyone walking past could catch an eyeful.

Yet she couldn’t ignore the overwhelming resonance of the final few months.

You can’t do it, not like this.

Her eyes flew open and she jerked forward, breaking the warm contact of his lips on her neck before quickly turning to face him. She saw confusion in his eyes.

Her fingers dug into the wood door frame, holding her up and keeping her steady while everything inside groaned in abject disappointment.

“I’m sorry, Matt. I...I can’t.”

“What?” He frowned as his hand slowly slid from the frame. “I thought—”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated lamely.

No! No, no, no. Her hands tightened on the door, breath caught in sudden hesitancy. He was right there in front of her, her memories a pale comparison to the reality of his warm body, skilled lips and practiced hands.

No. This wasn’t right.

It took all her willpower to steel herself against those seductive eyes and take a firm step past him, into the hall. “I can’t do this. I’m... Goodbye, Matthew.”

Then she turned on her heel and practically sprinted to the elevators.