The Pregnancy Proposal. HELEN BIANCHINЧитать онлайн книгу.
breath, then released it slowly. Her throat felt as if it were closing over, and she swallowed in an attempt to ease the restriction.
‘You think I’ll allow you to do that?’ His voice was quiet, much too quiet.
She was willing to swear she stopped breathing, and for a few timeless seconds she wasn’t capable of summoning a coherent word.
‘It’s not your decision to make,’ she managed at last.
‘No?’ The silky tone held something she didn’t care to define.
‘My child, my body.’ It was as if she was hell-bent on treading a path to self-destruction.
‘Our child,’ he corrected. ‘Our decision.’ He stood to his feet, aware he outmatched her in height, size and weight. He caught the faint flicker of alarm in her eyes and derived satisfaction from it. Dammit, he’d take any advantage he could get.
She stood her ground. ‘I’ve already made my decision.’
‘Change it.’
She checked her watch. ‘I have to leave, or I’ll be late.’ She collected her briefcase and walked from the apartment, then she took the lift down to the basement car park, slid into the BMW and sent it up to street-level.
Focusing on work took all her concentration, and it didn’t sit well when a para-legal pointed out something she’d missed, when she should have picked up on it. A minor error, but it gave her pause for thought.
Tasha’s lunch was a sandwich she sent out for, which she ate at her desk in between contacting real-estate agents. The sooner she tied up a lease on an apartment the better, and she made appointments to view at the end of her working day.
The afternoon didn’t fare much better, and it was a relief to join the building’s general exodus shortly after five.
Her first appointment didn’t work out. She could have ignored the female agent’s over-the-top presentation if the apartment had lived up to expectations. It didn’t, and what was more the rental was way overpriced.
The second was an improvement, but Tasha didn’t like the location.
‘I can get you anything you want if you’re prepared to pay,’ the agent snapped. ‘Both apartments I’ve shown you are in the price-range you quoted.’
‘I have a few others to see tomorrow,’ she dismissed coolly. ‘I’ll get back to you.’
Going home held a new connotation. She was very aware the apartment and everything in it belonged to Jared. Clothes and select items of jewellery comprised her possessions. She’d given up a lease on her own apartment and her furniture had been put in storage when she’d moved in with Jared.
The muted ring of her cell-phone sounded from inside her bag, and she retrieved it, checked the caller ID and felt her stomach muscles tighten. Jared.
‘Where in hell are you?’
‘Three blocks away at a set of traffic lights,’ she answered reasonably.
‘It’s almost seven. You didn’t think to call and say you’d be late?’
‘I lost track of time.’ The lights changed and cars up front began to move. ‘Got to go.’ She cut the connection before he had a chance to respond.
Jared was standing in the lounge, hands thrust into his trouser pockets, when she entered the apartment. The adopted casual stance belied the tense set of his features.
‘Perhaps you’d care to explain?’
There was nothing like the truth. ‘I was viewing apartments with an agent.’ She began loosening the buttons on her jacket, only to pause part-way when she remembered all she wore beneath it was a bra…a very skimpy number that was little more than a scrap of moulded red lace.
Tasha saw his eyes flare, then harden as she refastened the buttons.
‘A useless exercise. You’re not going anywhere.’
Calm. All she needed to do was to remain calm. ‘I don’t believe you have the right to tell me what I can or can’t do.’
Jared lifted an arm and indicated the room. ‘Why move out when we can share this apartment?’
See you every morning, every night? Separate bedrooms, separate meals, polite conversation? And die a little every time? ‘I don’t think so,’ she responded with a politeness that belied her emotions.
‘Tasha.’ His voice held a silky warning she chose to ignore, and her expression held a mix of fearless pride.
‘I have no intention of denying you access,’ she managed quietly.
‘To you?’
She didn’t misunderstand his implication. ‘To the child,’ she elaborated.
‘Unlimited time. Your place or mine, but I don’t get to stay?’
‘I don’t want the child to sense its father might only be a temporary entity who might choose to walk out of its life at any time.’
His gaze hardened measurably. ‘You must know I would never do that.’
‘Perhaps not.’ She waited a beat. ‘However, your future wife may not be so keen to welcome a child from a previous relationship.’
‘As you will be my wife, that doesn’t apply.’
One fine eyebrow arched in silent query. ‘Another proposal you expect me to accept, when I know that, had it not been for the child, marriage was never your intention? Thanks, but no, thanks.’
A muscle tensed at the edge of his jaw. ‘I don’t recall saying marriage wasn’t my intention.’
He was good, very good. But wasn’t it the skill of his chosen profession to utilise words to their best advantage? To confuse the defendant and cleverly persuade admissions which otherwise might be withheld?
‘You didn’t need to.’
‘You’re being ridiculously stubborn.’
‘Am I?’ She drew in a short breath and released it. ‘I guess that’s my prerogative.’ It took considerable courage to hold his gaze. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I need to go freshen up.’ She checked her watch, and grimaced ruefully. ‘I’m already late.’
‘Late for what?’
Jared’s voice held an ominous thread she chose to ignore. ‘Eloise rang to say Simon is out of town for a few days, and I suggested we meet for dinner.’
‘A girls’ night out?’
‘Yes.’ She moved past him and entered the bedroom she’d occupied the night before. It didn’t take long to freshen up, repair her make-up and re-do her hair.
Jared watched her emerge into the lounge, and experienced the familiar surge of desire. She was everything he wanted, all he needed. Dammit, she was his.
The thought of any other man coming near her…worse, being given the right, almost undid him.
Did she have any conception of how he’d managed to get through the day without seriously impairing his reputation?
‘Tasha.’
She turned as she reached the door, watchful as he closed the distance between them. ‘Yes?’
‘You forgot something.’
A puzzled frown creased her forehead. Purse, keys… ‘I don’t think so.’
‘This,’ he murmured as he cupped a hand to her face and brushed his lips to her own, lingered, then he deepened the kiss to something warmly evocative before lifting his head.
He smiled faintly at her slight confusion, aware of her response for an unguarded instant. ‘Drive carefully.’
Oh,