Читать книгу The Pregnancy Proposal - HELEN BIANCHIN, Helen Bianchin - Страница 7

THE apartment was quiet as she entered the foyer, and she crossed to the kitchen, withdrew bottled water from the refrigerator and filled a glass, drank some, then she made for the hallway.

Was Jared home?

The sudden thought he might have gone out resulted in a frown. He would have rung, surely? Or at least left a text message on her cell-phone.

‘Enjoy your evening?’

He stood framed in the aperture leading to the room he used as a study. One wall was lined floor to ceiling with bookshelves, another wall contained a long credenza. There was an antique desk which held his laptop surrounded by legal files, and a thick yellow legal pad.

Attired in black jeans, a white chambray shirt unbuttoned at the neck with the sleeve cuffs carelessly turned back, his hair slightly ruffled as if he’d dragged his fingers through it, he looked vaguely piratical, even satanical.

Dark eyes, dark hair, olive skin, his expression unfathomable as he stood regarding her.

Tasha felt vaguely defensive, even wary. Normally she’d have moved in close, reached up and kissed him, sure of her welcome, the feel of his arms closing around her slender form as they pulled her in and he deepened the kiss.

Sometimes they’d talk, but most often he’d simply sweep an arm beneath her knees and carry her into their bedroom. Fast and furious, slow and gentle…one would inevitably follow the other in a long loving far into the night. Often the talking waited until morning as they showered together, ate breakfast, dressed for the day.

Now Tasha remained still, unfamiliar uncertainty meshing with an undeniable sexual attraction. ‘Yes.’

Jared didn’t move, and she contemplated walking straight past him to the spare bedroom.

Except there was a waiting, watching quality to his stance. A silent warning she instinctively knew she’d do well to heed.

‘Working hard?’ It was a light query, and unnecessary. He was one of a few people she knew who could survive on four or five hours’ sleep and face whatever the day held with energy and purpose.

Razor-sharp was a superlative often used in reference to Jared North’s mind power, his memory recall. Very little, if anything, escaped him.

‘A few more hours should do it.’

The faint drawling quality sent prickles of unease up her spine. They were both being excruciatingly polite. Too polite, she perceived, aware there was a degree of anger beneath the surface of his control.

With her? Of course with her! The pregnancy was her fault. Well, not entirely, but she could have, should have been aware of the consequences and ensured extra precautions were taken. Except she hadn’t given the possibility of pregnancy a thought.

Divine intervention? A test by the Deity to determine the strength of their relationship?

Oh, dammit, Tasha cursed silently. She was really losing it!

‘Goodnight.’ She made to step past him, only to pause as his hand closed over her shoulder. Firm fingers cupped her chin, tilting it so she had no choice but to meet his gaze. ‘Don’t.’ Dear heaven, he was so close, too close. ‘Please,’ she added quietly.

Jared touched a finger to her lower lip, and he offered a faint smile. ‘Afraid, Tasha?’

‘Of you? No.’

‘So brave.’ His voice held a mocking tinge she chose to ignore.

It took courage to project cool when her pulse felt as if it was jumping out of her skin. ‘Is there a purpose to this?’

‘Does there need to be one?’

‘Yes,’ she managed evenly.

‘By all means…’ His mouth closed over hers in a gentle exploration, teasing, evocative, as he held her there.

For an instant she began to respond, the instinctive inclination automatic, then reaction set in and she strained against him, unsure whether to feel relieved or disappointed as he let her go.

‘You don’t play fair.’ Her breath hitched a little as she sought control.

‘Did you imagine I would?’

She looked at him, caught the stillness in that dark gaze, and recognised the need to act with her head and not her heart.

‘No.’ Beneath the sophisticated façade there was a primitive ruthlessness apparent, a hard strength coupled with indomitable power. Characteristics that made him a man feared in a court of law…and out of it.

A sensual man, she added silently, practised in the art of lovemaking and pleasing a woman. Intense passion and great tendresse…he employed both with considerable skill. Yet there was also the hint of sweet savagery, well-leashed, but exigent none the less.

A tiny shiver slithered the length of her spine. Jared North was someone no one in their right mind would choose to have as an enemy in any arena.

‘I’m going to bed.’ She turned away from him and took the few steps necessary to bring her level with the spare bedroom.

‘Sleep well.’

Tasha ignored the faint irony in his voice, and chose not to respond as she entered the room. She turned on the light switch, then closed the door quietly behind her and stood leaning against it for several minutes.

She was tired, mentally, emotionally, physically, but she doubted her ability to enjoy an easy night’s sleep.

There were too many thoughts chasing contrarily through her mind, and she endeavoured to dispense with them as she removed her clothes. Make-up came next, then she donned a nightshirt and slid in between the sheets.

She must have slept, for she was caught up in a dream so realistically vivid she was there, living the fight to save her baby from being taken away. She screamed at the nurse to bring him back, but no sound came out, and she screamed again, louder this time, forcing her voice in a bid to be heard. But the nurse kept walking, and Tasha tried to get out of bed to go after her, only she was hooked up to various machines, drips, and she began pulling at the tubes, swearing at her seeming inability to disconnect them as she sought to free herself.

Then there was a familiar voice, hands whose soothing touch provided a calming influence, and although she heard the words, none of them seemed to register. The scene switched to another, one where the baby was now a young toddler, laughing as he played with toys on the lawn out back of a beautiful home, and she was there, watching with maternal pride.

Dreams, fantasy, wishful thinking. Perhaps a little of each. When she woke she retained a vivid recollection, and there was an awareness of the dawn filtering through the shutters, followed by the knowledge this wasn’t the spare bedroom, nor was she alone.

Had she cried through the night? Or had Jared—?

‘You called my name.’ He’d hit the floor running at the first scream, and arrived to pull her into his arms as the next scream emerged from her throat.

The tortured voice had chilled him to the bone, and he’d pulled her close, soothing until she quietened, then he’d brought her into his bed, gathered her in and held her through the night.

Was she aware she’d clung to him in her sleep? Whimpered indistinctly whenever he sought to ease her into a more comfortable position?

Tasha felt the strong, steady beat of his heart beneath her cheek, sensed the warmth and slight muskiness of his skin, and experienced a familiar sensation unfurling deep within. The quickened pulse-beat, the sensitised pores, and an electrifying awareness that curled through her body, rendering it boneless, his, anticipating the drift of his fingers, the touch of his lips.

It was an achingly familiar pattern most mornings as they indulged in a slow lovemaking. Soft sighs, lingering kisses, and the sweet sorcery of seduction.

Then they’d slip from this large bed, share a leisurely shower before dressing for the day ahead, eat breakfast together and take the lift down to the basement car park.

This morning was different. So much had changed in the past forty-eight hours. Gone was the easy camaraderie, the sanctuary of unreserved loving. Now there were barriers, doubts, reservations.

Insecurities and unresolved resentment, she added silently, aware that every second she remained quiescent related to an invitation she was reluctant to offer.

Two years of unrestrained loving, yet at this moment she felt as nervous as she had the first time they’d shared sex.

‘I must get up.’

Jared’s hand slid from her ribcage to her stomach. ‘Stay.’

The breath caught in her throat, and she tamped down the need. If she stayed, there could only be one end, and although she craved the wild, primitive pleasure his touch would provide, she’d only despise herself afterwards for giving in.

‘I can’t.’

There was a lost, almost forlorn edge to her voice that tore at him more than the words she uttered.

‘Stay,’ he repeated gently. ‘With me.’

Did he have any idea how hard it was for her to refuse? Or how easy it would be to give in? But what price a love that wasn’t equal? Self-survival had to be her ultimate goal. And she couldn’t, wouldn’t settle for anything less than his total commitment. Willingly given, not out of duty.

Right now she needed to get out of this bed and put some distance between them, for if he kissed her she’d be lost.

‘I need to go into the office early this morning.’ Even as she uttered the words she was easing away from him, smooth, deliberate movements he made no effort to still as she slid from the bed and crossed to the door. If she chose to shower in the adjacent en suite he might see it as an invitation to join her, and the resulting intimacy would be more than she could bear.

Half an hour later she’d showered and utilised the hair-drier. All her clothes, she qualified with a faint grimace, were in the master bedroom, along with her lingerie, hose, shoes.

With luck, Jared would be in the shower and she could retrieve what she needed without him being aware she was there.

Chance would be a fine thing, she acknowledged on re-entering the bedroom. He was in the process of dressing, a pair of black silk briefs sparing his tall muscular frame from nudity.

She caught a glimpse of broad shoulders, lightly tanned flesh and the fluid movement of muscle and sinew as he reached for a white cotton shirt, aware of the ease with which he closed the buttons before pulling on elegantly tailored trousers to his waist and deftly sliding the zip fastener closed.

There was nothing she could do to prevent the spiralling sensation curling through her body. Trying to stop it was akin to halting an incoming tide…impossible.