The Pregnancy Proposal. HELEN BIANCHIN

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      His gaze locked with hers, the force of his will vying with her own for long, timeless seconds, then he moved aside to let her pass.

      The guest room held its own linen closet, and she undressed, donned her wrap, removed her make-up, then she made up the bed, slid between the cool percale sheets and switched off the bedlamp.

      Sleep came easily, but she woke in the early hours of the morning, momentarily disoriented by her surroundings until she remembered where she was and why.

      The bed was comfortable, but she wasn’t curled in against Jared’s muscled frame as he held her close, even in sleep. She missed the steady beat of his heart, his reassuring warmth. The way he seemed to sense when she stirred during the night, how he’d gather her in and press his lips to the curve of her shoulder.

      Inevitably it would lead to lovemaking, and she delighted in the fact he could never get enough of her. Secure in the relationship and what they shared.

      Not any more, a tiny voice taunted. You blew it.

      It was then the tears began to well, spilling over to slip in slow rivulets to her temples and become lost in her hair.

      Tasha lay awake, staring at the darkened ceiling until the grey light of an early dawn crept between the shutters, giving the room shape and form, followed by subtle shades of colour.

      It was too soon to rise and meet the day, and any further hope of sleep was out of the question. She could slip into the master suite and retrieve what she needed to wear into the office. Except she’d encounter Jared…something that was unavoidable, but she’d prefer to face him when they were both dressed. Which meant she’d need to wait until six-thirty, when he left the apartment for his daily workout in the downstairs gym.

      At six-forty she took a leisurely shower in the hope it would ease the tiredness. It didn’t, and she brushed her hair until her scalp tingled.

      With care she tidied the bed, caught up the clothes she’d worn the previous evening, and entered the master suite.

      The large bed bore witness of Jared’s occupation, the covers a tangled mess, the pillows bunched at different angles. So he hadn’t had an easy night of it, either.

      Somehow the thought gave her pleasure as she crossed to the large walk-in wardrobe.

      Clothes were everything, and she began with her sexiest underwear, pulled on the sheerest tights, added a new suit she’d bought only the week before but hadn’t worn, and slid her feet into killer stiletto-heeled shoes. Then she collected her bag of cosmetics and returned down the hall to the guest suite.

      Make-up was both an art form and a weapon, and she took extra care with its application, highlighting her eyes before sweeping her hair into a smooth chignon. A touch of perfume, and she was about as ready as she’d ever be to face whatever the day might bring.

      Any hope of escaping the apartment before Jared’s return died as she entered the kitchen and saw him seated at the breakfast table sipping black coffee as he scanned the morning’s newspaper.

      His usual routine on return from the gym was to shower, shave, dress, eat, then leave for the city.

      This morning he’d chosen to reverse the process, and the sight of him in sweats, his hair ruffled from exertion, and looking incredibly physical sent the blood racing through her veins.

      He lifted his head and his gaze seared hers. It gave him no pleasure to see the carefully masked signs showing she hadn’t slept any better than he had.

      ‘Coffee’s hot.’

      Tasha made tea, added milk, slid bread into the toaster, then peeled and ate a banana as she waited for the toast to pop. When it did, she spread honey, and carried both tea and toast to the table.

      Begin as you mean to go on, she bade silently. Anything less is a compromise you don’t want to make.

      ‘I’ll arrange an apartment of my own within the next few days,’ she said quietly. She took a deep 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.

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