Pregnant by the Playboy Tycoon. Anne OliverЧитать онлайн книгу.
and rather than look at the rigid woman beside him, he watched the scenery.
The jolt was still vibrating along his bones. Attraction. Hell, he already knew that, but it was more than he’d imagined, and he’d imagined quite a lot. And different. No other woman had ever managed to…what? Well, he knew better now—he wouldn’t be so quick to touch her again.
They travelled the rest of the way to the town in silence.
‘We’ll stop here, then I’ll drive for a while,’ Steve said as they cruised down the main street.
Anneliese didn’t reply; she seemed to be deep in thought. She parked outside a bakery and they found a clean laminated table with the colour scrubbed out of it.
He ordered his big breakfast while Anneliese ordered coffee and a salad roll. They sat opposite each other to wait for their order.
‘You okay?’
Her reply was a tight-lipped, ‘Fine, thanks.’
No more than he expected. But she looked fragile, as Cindy had said. And it wasn’t just her mother’s passing—he saw more than grief in her eyes. He saw anger and disillusionment for starters. Serious personal issues.
This time he resisted offering her the comfort of touch, but it went against his nurturing nature and left him feeling inadequate and hollow. ‘If you want to unload…’
He didn’t think she even heard him. When they’d eaten they used the town’s public conveniences, then met up back at the car. ‘Sure you don’t want to stock up on chocolate before we hit the road? Chocolate’s a good comfort food.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘Okay, but don’t tell me I told you so when I break open my giant block of Caramello.’ He pulled his sunglasses from his vest pocket. ‘I’ll drive.’
‘Uh…wait up…’ She bit her lip, hesitated a second, then dropped the keys in his hand and took off up the street again.
He watched her go, her low heels clicking on the footpath while his thumb stroked over her keys still warm from her hand. She was compact, he thought, eyeing her cute bottom in those hip-hugging trousers and that demure blouse he couldn’t seem to stop fantasising about. Neat.
And all zippered up like her expensive gold chain-mesh key-holder.
Scowling, he unzipped it, unlocked the door and yanked it open. He was used to girls who were open, flirtatious, and knew how to have fun. Girls who understood the ground rules: nothing serious. When it wasn’t fun any more, for either party, it was time to move on. A girl like Anneliese wouldn’t know fun if it laid her on her back and tickled her tummy.
And why he’d come up with that analogy was beyond his comprehension.
A couple of minutes later she was back with something in a slim carry bag. Somewhat breathless, she slid into the passenger seat. She seemed different. Brighter, lighter, as if she’d shed a little of that load off her shoulders. He couldn’t see her eyes behind her sunglasses, but a tiny Mona Lisa smile tipped up the corners of her mouth.
Perhaps he’d been wrong about the tummy tickle. Perhaps she didn’t know how to have fun because no one had shown her. A flash of heat zapped through his veins, quickly doused. What in hell was he thinking? No, he was sure the ice-maiden act was reserved for him alone—perhaps with another man…
He jerked his gaze straight ahead and slid the key into the ignition. ‘All set?’
‘Let’s go.’
They drove out of town, heading northeast. The sky was lowering, darkening with threatened rain. The trees tossed in the strengthening wind.
Steve was happy to oblige her earlier request for little conversation. After all, what could they possibly have in common?
Except the intense physical awareness of each other.
Yeah, she was aware of him all right. If she’d shifted any farther left, she’d be out the door.
Not that he was looking.
He didn’t need to look to know that her blouse had stretched tighter over her breasts when she’d pushed her hair behind her ears. He couldn’t help hearing her soft sighs when she wiggled her bottom to find a more comfortable position. And all the while her fragrance teased his nostrils.
It was like an endurance test.
They stopped for a late lunch, then a major accident and a hailstorm held them up. Darkness fell suddenly, like a wet blanket.
They’d swapped driving duty an hour ago, which gave Steve nothing to do but concentrate on not thinking about his proximity to Anneliese. The radio had dropped out fifty kilometres back and the silence inside the car was beginning to grate on Steve’s nerves. It was past 10:00 p.m. ‘We’ve got to stop somewhere tonight,’ he said. ‘Any ideas?’
‘Ah…I…was hoping we could drive straight through—’
‘Nope.’ He’d expected that. ‘I need a few hours of horizontal.’
‘Take a nap now, then. I’m right for a while.’ Without taking her eyes off the road, she set the open map on his lap.
He’d hardly closed his eyes when he woke feeling vaguely disoriented. He checked his watch. One hour. Something wasn’t right.
She caught his glance and her frown mirrored his. ‘I expected we would’ve been near Moree by now… I think maybe we took a wrong turn somewhere…’
‘We?’
‘I thought—’
‘The general condition of this road gave you no clue?’ He gestured at the view beyond the windscreen, switched on the car’s interior light. ‘Why didn’t you wake me? Pull over to the side of the road.’
She complied without a word.
‘This is where we’re headed—were headed…’ Taking the map from his knee, she spread it out on the dashboard.
‘Anneliese. No.’ He remained calm—was calm, he told himself—as he reorientated the map ninety degrees, pointed to their route. So it was true what they said about women and maps. ‘I’ll drive.’
‘No.’ She set the car into gear, turned and headed back the way they’d come. ‘What’s that noise—?’
‘Just what we damn well need—’
They both spoke at the same time.
‘Pull over again,’ he ordered.
A chill wind wrapped around him as he climbed out. He confirmed the problem, then poked his head inside to give Anneliese the good news. ‘We’ve got a flat.’ He zipped his vest as high as it would go. ‘Guess we can be thankful it’s not something serious or we might be stuck here for hours.’
CHAPTER THREE
A FLAT.
As in tyre.
As in we need the spare.
The spare with the three-month old puncture she’d forgotten about.
Taking a deep breath, Anneliese closed her eyes. A hole seemed to open up in her stomach and she wished she could just crawl into it and disappear. So much for being independent.
‘Switch off the engine and help me unload your gear from the boot and I’ll change it,’ she heard Steve say. ‘Maybe we can still make Moree this side of midnight.’
She switched off the car but remained where she was. A muffled ‘um’ escaped from between her tight lips.
When she opened her eyes she found Steve leaning over the passenger seat, his gaze fixed on hers. ‘Tell me you have a jack.’
‘I do.’
‘Thank