Expecting His Child: The Pregnancy Plot / Staking His Claim / A Tricky Proposition. Tessa RadleyЧитать онлайн книгу.
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.”
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