The Pregnancy Proposal. HELEN BIANCHIN

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      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, God, she agonised as she rode the lift down to the basement car park. Why did he have to do that? She could still feel the slow sweep of his tongue on her own, the pressure of his mouth. Not to mention the quickened beat of her heart.

      She made a quick call to Eloise from her cell-phone to say she was running late, then she drove the car to street-level.

      Traffic was heavy, with a number of vehicles heading for the city, and it was almost eight when she entered the restaurant.

      ‘I’m so sorry,’ Tasha offered as she slid into the seat opposite Eloise.

      The attractive blonde smiled and indicated her half-empty glass of wine. ‘A gentleman had the waiter bring me champagne with his compliments. And a note offering his—er—services for the evening.’

      ‘Naturally you declined.’

      ‘It was tempting,’ Eloise relayed solemnly, and Tasha bit back a mischievous laugh. She’d known Eloise since their pre-teen years when they’d commiserated over pimples, teeth braces, and lusted after the male television and movie stars of the moment.

      Relationships, they’d experienced a few, and supported each other when they fell apart. Now Eloise was happily married to Simon, and Tasha was with Jared…and pregnant.

      Tasha picked up the menu. ‘OK, what are we eating?’

      The drinks waiter arrived, and she requested chilled mineral water.

      ‘I’m driving.’ It was a weak excuse, and she knew it. ‘So am I,’ Eloise stated. ‘But one glass won’t pitch either of us over the legal limit.’

      They ordered, choosing an entrée, skipped the main, and settled on fresh fruit, cheese and crackers instead of dessert.

      ‘It’s no fun being virtuous.’

      Tasha sipped from her glass, then replaced it onto the table. ‘Speak for yourself.’

      ‘I thought Jared might have been with you.’

      ‘Disappointed?’

      ‘Not in the least. We rarely get to go out on our own.’

      ‘Without the men of the moment.’

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