Читать книгу Pregnant by the Playboy Tycoon - Anne Oliver, Anne Oliver - Страница 7

CHAPTER TWO

STEVE had the passenger door open and was tossing his bag in the back before Anneliese could lower her window to tell him to get out of her way. Scooping her jacket and handbag off the seat before she could think about where the accelerator was, or remember to lock the passenger door.

‘Good morning, Anneliese.’ Grinning at her, he checked his watch. ‘Right on time. Two minutes past six. I like a woman who’s punctual.’

‘It’s Tuesday.’

He smelled of the wind, damp and male and she knew his jaw would feel cold and bristly against her palm if she slapped it right now as she wanted to. Or if she curled her fingers around it and simply felt.

When he didn’t reply, she gritted her teeth. ‘We were leaving on Wednesday.’

‘But you changed the schedule, I see.’ With that grin still in place, he hauled the seat belt over his shoulder. ‘Well, then, let’s get going—we want to beat the rush hour. Or are you waiting for me to drive?’

‘Oh, no. You are not getting your hands on this baby.’ She blew out a breath, super aware of the silence and his gaze on her, as if he were asking whether she was referring to her car or her person. Both, she thought, pressing the remote to close the gates behind her.

He didn’t speak again, which gave her time to get her brain into gear. And perhaps it was better this way. She wasn’t alone any more. Already her anxiety had slipped a notch. If he kept to his side of the car and didn’t talk to her in that sexy deep voice, she could handle it. If nothing else, Steve Anderson’s presence alone would divert her focus away from all she was leaving behind.

She told herself she was calm, calm, calm. But she accelerated, turning into the road with a screech of tyres on bitumen, and felt the sudden movement as he gripped his seat belt. ‘And no handy hints on how to drive.’

A few moments of silence prevailed. ‘Just an observation…’ he ventured. ‘We should’ve turned right at the last intersection if you want to get onto the interstate before lunch.’

And she realised the waver in his voice was more of a vibration. Of amusement. ‘Habit,’ she muttered, checking her rear-vision mirror and furious with herself for allowing him to make her forget. She turned off, then doubled back.

‘I imagine it is,’ he drawled. ‘All those exclusive Toorak Road boutiques just down the way.’ She felt his gaze slide over her lemon silk blouse and grey light wool trousers. There was probably a sneer somewhere in there, but it was hard to tell because she was so engrossed with the sound of his deep voice rumbling in his chest.

‘The way to my father’s consulting rooms,’ she corrected icily. ‘Where I work.’ And desperately switched the conversation to him. ‘I imagine this trip is seriously impinging on your social life.’

‘Not at all,’ he said comfortably.

Was he between relationships, then? Did he even do relationships, or were they all one-night stands? She felt her face heat and changed topics fast. ‘So you camped outside my house all night?’

‘Heck, no. But I had this gut feeling you might change your mind about the day and forget to call me. Weird, huh?’

Her cheeks heated further and she was grateful for the semidarkness. One hand crept to fiddle with the top button of her blouse, and she wished she could flick it undone to cool the sudden hike in air temperature.

Sweat sprang to her palms and she kept her eyes on the rear lights of the car in front. She could try turning down the car’s heating, but that would be like admitting he’d made her hot. Which wouldn’t have happened if she was alone.

‘Except you didn’t forget, did you?’ he continued in that rumbly voice. ‘You had no intention of calling me.’

‘I already told you, I don’t need a passenger. You could travel at your own speed and convenience. Fly like most business people. It’s not too late. I can—’

‘Maybe I don’t need a driving partner either.’ He cut her off, his tone sharp, all trace of humour gone. ‘Have you considered that maybe I only agreed to this because I want to put Cindy’s mind at rest, not to mention your father’s?’

Guilt stabbed at Anneliese. She’d been so caught up in her own problems she hadn’t given Cindy a thought.

They came to a snarl in the traffic and she slowed to a stop. ‘Okay,’ she conceded. ‘You’re right, I’m sorry. Perhaps you should call her. Tell her not to worry, big brother’s got everything under control.’

‘Too early yet. But I sent her a text before you opened the gate.’ The humour seemed to be back in his voice as he stretched his arms and rolled his shoulders.

She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel and steeled herself to look at him. ‘So sure of yourself, aren’t you?’

He nodded. ‘Pretty much. Whereas you…’ He turned to her. ‘You’re not—never have been. Your face is an open book. A very pretty book, but open nonetheless.’

His look was so potent, so knowing she wanted to shrivel up and die of embarrassment. Because he was right. Instead of the mask she usually retreated behind, anger bubbled up and she stared right back. ‘Maybe I wanted you to read the message that said: I don’t want you with me.’

‘True,’ he said slowly. ‘But then I’d have to ask myself why that is.’ His gaze dipped to her mouth, a glide of sensation as if his fingers were tracing the outline and texture.

A tingle danced down her spine. How would his fingers feel against her lips? Warm or cool? Light and gentle or rough and sure? Would they feel the same on other parts of her body? No. She tipped up her chin. ‘Let me fill you in on why. You’re arrogant and intimidating and…earthy.’

Oh, Lord, had she really voiced that last thought aloud? The corner of his mouth twitched. Yep, she’d said it.

‘Not the suave and sophisticated type you’re used to, Anneliese?’

‘That’s not what I meant.’ She refused to think about the earthy dream she’d had last night involving heat and hands and lots of body lotion. And Steve… ‘I don’t want company because I have a personal and private matter to take care of,’ she snapped, flushed and furious that they were having this conversation but unable to look away. It was as if he held her gaze with some sort of magnetic force.

‘I’m only your travelling companion,’ he said without taking his eyes off her. ‘Traffic’s moving.’

‘I’m aware of that.’ Jolting out of her semi-trance state, Anneliese returned her attention to the road. From the corner of her eye she saw him settle back in his seat as she inched the car forward again and said, ‘I don’t need your conversation taking my focus away from my driving.’ She didn’t need his conversation, period. The road cleared and she planted her foot on the accelerator.

‘By all means, focus away.’ He crossed his arms. ‘And we’re not trying to break any world speed records here. You might want to ease your dad’s worry and let him know I’m along for the ride.’

Who was he to remind her of her responsibilities? Anneliese took a deep breath. Counted to three, let it out slowly, then said, ‘I intend to, as soon as we stop. Have you forgotten it’s dangerous, not to mention illegal, to use the phone while behind the wheel?’

‘No. Speaking of dangerous and illegal…do you always travel at this speed?’

‘When I’m under pressure, yes.’

And no doubt Daddy paid her fines as well. Barely turning his head, Steve studied her covertly. What he was imagining doing to her right now was definitely dangerous, and no doubt illegal, too. But those neat little buttons on her prim little blouse begged to be popped. All the way to her navel. And when he’d eased down her bra and finished exploring her delectable body, he’d just bet that navel was as neat and prim as the rest of her…

He closed his eyes. Quit now. She’s just your travelling companion.

Not by choice, he reminded himself, for either of them.

And she didn’t know it yet, but what she got up to when they arrived in Surfers Paradise was still his business. For the sake of Cindy and Marcus and the fact that Steve didn’t trust her not to get into trouble he’d just made it his business.

Her perfume wafted beneath his nose and he felt the subtle air movement as she reached over the console to turn on a CD.

Clean, crisp classical violin.

He groaned inwardly. He might have guessed. This did not bode well for a long trip. Feeling constricted, tight, trapped, he yanked the zipper of his vest down. Yep. A very long trip.

When he opened his eyes again the music was still classical but she’d turned the volume down and the landscape had changed from suburban to rural. Farming and grape-growing land. Rubbing his eyes, he checked his watch and their speed. If his estimation was correct they were somewhere in the Goulburn Valley. Signs of a town in the distance stirred his hunger. ‘Time for breakfast,’ he said, stretching out the kinks. ‘I’m thinking sausages, hash browns, bacon and eggs washed down with a hot frothy cappuccino.’

‘Better make an appointment to see Dad when you get back.’

He turned to look at her to see if she was as serious as she sounded. She’d put on sunglasses so he couldn’t be sure. ‘I work it off. Don’t tell me you’re one of those women who skips breakfast.’

‘Of course not. But all that oily food… You’re hardly going to work it off sitting in a car all day. A balanced—’

‘I don’t need the lecture.’ Obviously she knew it by heart, living with an eminent heart surgeon. ‘I’ll jog when we stop for the night.’

Tonight. He andAnneliese were going to be sleeping… Close.

Disturbing—he might need to lengthen that jog this evening.

‘So you like the classics,’ he said, more to block out the direction his thoughts were taking than anything else.

‘Yes.’ Her answer was automatic, her eyes on the road.

‘Any other music? Rock and roll?’ he asked, hopefully. ‘Country and Western? Elvis?’ Heavy metal?

‘We only have classical at home.’ A statement, flatly spoken.

‘Yeah, but do you like it when you’re on your own?’

‘Mummy says classical’s…’ She trailed off, biting her lower lip and blinking rapidly. Swapped the CD in favour of the radio. When the speakers spat out static she turned it off.

Hell. His fault. Please don’t let her cry. But Steve felt her heartache all the way inside. His own mother hadn’t been a part of his life in for ever. Circumstances might be different—Marlene Anderson had walked out on her husband and two kids twenty years ago—but he still remembered the pain. ‘Hey…’ he said softly, reaching out to soothe a thumb over her shoulder.

A micro-moment as his fingers skimmed over the skin-warmed silk, feeling bone beneath flesh, a ridge of bra strap.

A scant second for the jolt of that first contact to rewire his brain.

He pulled away at the same instant she stiffened and drew a sharp breath. Well, he decided, curling a fist around the unexpected heat, that was something to think about. Or not.

‘It’ll heal with time,’ he said into the silence, 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.’