The Pregnancy Plot

by Paula Roe

  AJ opened her mouth but nothing came out. This was so not going the way she’d planned. Instead of calmly presenting her situation, then laying out the solution in a businesslike manner, she’d let him stall her with one quirk of his sensual lips. Not to mention the heated stare, which melted her senses and sent her body into an anticipatory tingle.

  It was déjà vu, except now they were in his office instead of the Palazzo Versace’s private cabana. And just like before, that evil little voice echoed: you have him ready to go—you don’t actually have to tell him.

  Yet through the growing tangle of desire another more powerful emotion grabbed hold. Honesty. It’s what had stopped her the first time. It’s what would always stop her.

  “Matthew. I...uh....” She hesitated, casting her eyes over his desk. There was a small mountain of files, a laptop, phone, coffee cup, scattered pens and paper. No family photos, no personal mementoes. The wall behind him held his various diplomas, a crazy-looking yearly schedule, medical diagrams and charts; it was the office of someone who’d had a life plan since he was ten years old. He was Matthew Cooper, work-driven, goal-oriented. He had been—and always would be—a career guy. Ten years later that was still blindingly obvious.

  That realization bolstered her courage. “I want a baby.”

  His sharp inward breath was harsh in the sudden silence and she paused. If ever there was a moment-killer, this was it.

  “What?” he choked out.

  “I...” She pressed her lips together, working hard to contain the swelling emotion. A few seconds passed, then a few more before she finally got a handle on it. “I’m thirty-two and single. I’ve met guys but none who—” She swallowed and looked Matt straight in the eye. “I don’t want marriage or a husband—just a baby. I’ve done my homework, even went to a fertility clinic, but my time is running out and it’s so expensive and things fell through and—”

  “And you want me to recommend a doctor for you?”

  “No. I want you to be the donor.”

  He shot to his feet so fast it made her gasp. She stood, too, even as the ferocity of his expression had her inwardly cringing. “I did have someone lined up,” she forged on. “But he—”

  “Who?”

  “Just some guy. A donor—”

  “You thought I was more convenient than ‘just some guy’?”

  She winced. “That’s not what I mean. I’ve been thinking—”

  “Have you?” His lip curled, nostrils flaring. “Since when?”

  “Since you called me the morning after Emily’s wedding.”

  He said nothing, just put his hands on his hips and fixed her with such a furious glare that it felt like her face was on fire. “Look, Matt, I know your job is your life. You’ve invested everything in your career—it’s what you live and breathe every day. I totally get that. Don’t you see this is a perfect arrangement for us both? I’m not asking you to give anything up because I plan on raising this child by myself.”

  She paused deliberately, putting on a brave show of outward calm while her insides hammered away like a windup toy. At his narrow-eyed silence, she pressed her point. “This isn’t a plan to trap you into marriage or demand child support, and I’ll sign anything you want to convince you of that. This would just be a simple...exchange. It wouldn’t disrupt your life. Once I’m pregnant, we’d go our separate ways.”

  She was met with silence.

  He crossed his arms, his expression cold. “You have got to be kidding.”

  She bit her bottom lip. “Can we talk about this? I thought—”

  “No.” He shook his head curtly. “This isn’t a favor, AJ. It’s a goddamn lifelong decision!”

  “For me, yes. Not for you.”

  His eyes raked her with such ferocity that she nearly flinched. “I was right. You have changed.”

  Her bravado crumpled but she refused to let the hurt show. “What makes you so righteous? You don’t know what my life’s been like, Matt.”

  “No, I don’t. I never did, remember? We were just in it for a good time.”

  Another cheap shot. “Can you tell me what you have to lose? I’m not asking for a piece of your life. I don’t expect a relationship or marriage or anything except—”

  “Except sex?”

  “Yes.” She tipped her chin up. “We’ve done no-strings-attached sex before. Why not now?”

  He said nothing as he stood there, hands back on hips, his mouth an angry slash. AJ met his fierce look with one of her own.

  Finally, he glanced down at his watch. “I’m due in a meeting in twenty minutes. Sue at the front desk can arrange a cab for you.”

  “But—”

  He cut her off by striding to the door and swinging it wide-open. His expression had all the hallmarks of battered pride combined with tightly wound impatience.

  She’d insulted him and now he wanted her gone.

  With a dry swallow she cleared her throat, refusing to let the bitter disappointment take the form of tears.

  “If you change your mind...” She started then snapped her mouth shut when he fixed her with a chilly glare. She tried not to let that affect her as she straightened her shoulders and walked out the door. It was only when she strode down the corridor and retreated to the cool privacy of the bathroom that everything inside her collapsed.

  She leaned against the closed stall door, choking back her abject disappointment. It’s not the end. You still have the clinic. And Emily would help her, as much as she loathed asking for money. She’d just have to swallow her pride and her tightly held beliefs and ask.

  Yeah, she really was Charlene’s daughter, wasn’t she? Begging for money, expecting a handout. The only difference was she’d honor her debt, not do a runner in the middle of the night to avoid it.

  The bitter irony of it all made her heart ache.

  Six

  Matt paced his office, swinging from outrage to indignation then back again. He paused at the wall, did an about turn then continued pacing.

  Damn room was way too small. He scrubbed at his chin, then his cheek, before running a hand into his hair.

  What the hell had just happened?

  He was insulted. No, more than that—he was deeply offended. Did she really think he was that kind of guy? He snorted, hands on his hips. These past few days all made sense now: AJ’s initial coldness, then suddenly agreeing to his invitation. She wanted a convenient stud. Not him—just what he could give her.

  His hands curled into fists as fury overcame him.

  And yet...

  He must be the worst kind of idiot, letting his need lead him around like a dog on a leash because he still wanted her. Un-fricking-believable.

  He stopped and glared out the window, studying the slow ascent of a Qantas jumbo jet as it climbed into the sky. So she thought he was some kind of mindless workaholic man whore, did she? That he’d jump at her offer then happily walk away when she’d gotten what she wanted?

  With a curse, he collapsed into his chair, the leather protesting under the sudden weight. AJ Reynolds was trouble. Not worth the stress. Hell, he could pick up the phone and choose from a handful of willing women for an uncomplicated lay. Since his divorce it was all he’d been prepared to give. GEM occupied his every waking moment; he’d deliberately made it that way so there’d be no room to dwell on the bitter disappointment of Katrina’s rejection.

  Yet something stirred inside, reminding him of his deeply buried dreams.

  Dragging a hand over his chin, he tapped one finger on his bottom lip.

  “Why me?” he muttered, his gaze skimming the blue skyline until it latched on to another plane in the distance. Surely there were dozens of eager guys queuing up for the pleasure. Yet when he tried to picture AJ with another man, doing all those things they’
d done, touching her, making love to her, something nasty and painful twisted in his gut.

  No.

  A firm knock startled him from his reverie and he turned to see a familiar figure in the doorway. “Matt? Got a minute?”

  “Sure.” He straightened his shoulders and nodded.

  “Really?” His head of security, James Decker, tipped his chin down and peered over the rims of his dark aviator sunglasses. “Because it looks like you’re thinking hard about something important.”

  Matt sighed. “I’ve had an offer. And I’m not sure I should take it.”

  Decker stepped inside the office, closing the door behind him. As always, he was dressed in black—muscle T-shirt, army pants, boots and gun belt. Matt often teased Deck about his militant vigilante look, and the head of security would always come back with, “At least I save your ass.” The black was for show, for his team to project power and confidence to the public. It often meant the difference between success and failure when faced with life-threatening situations.

  “What’s the offer?” Decker asked, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

  “A woman, no relationship strings attached.”

  Decker’s whistle came out low. “Lucky bastard. A hot woman?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “And your problem is?”

  “She’s...an old flame.”

  Decker’s hands went to his hips. “Crazy chick, then?”

  “God, no. She’s—” Matt paused, his mouth curving in remembrance. “AJ’s perfectly sane.”

  “AJ?” Decker’s brow dipped. “Not the AJ?”

  Crap. He’d wondered when that night would come back to bite him in the ass. A close call in Mexico, the hotel bar, expensive whiskey... He and Deck had gotten comfortably drunk and ended up comparing a handful of regrets.

  “I take it from your silence it’s the same girl,” Decker said, his look knowing. “And you want strings.”

  Matt grabbed the nearest paper and glared at it, feeling his neck flush. “Forget I said anything, okay?”

  “Dude, this is me you’re talking to here.” Decker grabbed a chair, straddled it and crossed his arms over the back. “I’ve saved your life a dozen times. We’ve been in the middle of Vietnam, ass-deep in mud. We’ve run from Zimbabwean vigilantes, dodged bullets in East Timor.” He grinned. “And I wasn’t that drunk. I remember everything you said.”

  Matt sighed. Decker was six feet of contained Yankee firepower, all cocky American attitude and muscle with a huge gun fetish. He also happened to be his best mate, not to mention one of the most brilliant strategists he’d ever met.

  “She wants more than just sex,” Matt said.

  “Marriage?”

  “No. A baby.” Despite the seriousness of the conversation, Decker’s curse made Matt grin. “I knew that’d get you.”

  “She straight up said she wants you to father her kid?”

  “Yep.”

  “What’s the catch?”

  “Nothing. I get her pregnant, then I can walk away.”

  Decker snorted. “Like that’s gonna happen.” He looked Matt over. “So tell her no. Unless...” His eyes turned shrewd. “You want a kid. With her.”

  That was the question, wasn’t it? Did he want a baby with AJ?

  Deck and he had shared some moments, but he’d never told anyone this. It meant he’d have to admit that the complicated wound of losing his brother and Katrina’s rejection was still fresh in his mind, even four years on.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” Decker said.

  Yeah, the guy wasn’t dumb. Not by a long shot.

  Decker drummed his fingers on the back of the chair. “Is it possible she’s lying to trap you?”

  Matt grunted. “Nope. She was painfully clear she just wants a donor.”

  “Huh.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You still have a thing for her.”

  Matt’s frown deepened. “What makes you say that?”

  Decker shrugged. “A, because of what you told me all those years ago, and B, because we’re still talking about it. You’ve never put this much thought into a woman before.”

  “So I have a problem.”

  “Not really. Dude, you live for a challenge. We wouldn’t have half our clients without your Mister Charm-and-Persuasion routine. And do I need to list all the women who’ve succumbed to your moody charm?” He ticked them off on his fingers. “Snooty French heiress. Billionaire ice queen. Italian model...”

  “AJ’s different,” Matt interrupted.

  “I’m getting that loud and clear. Are you?” Decker gave him a meaningful look. “There’s obviously something still there. You won’t know if you don’t make an effort.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “I’m just saying that if anyone can convince a woman to fall in love with them, it’s you. Who wouldn’t want the great and powerful Matthew Cooper?” He grinned and stood. “You know the drill—background, assessment, decision, follow-through. I’ll come back later and we can talk about our Italian job.”

  Long after Decker had left Matt stared at the closed door.

  Background. Assessment. Decision. Follow-through. “BADFIT” was GEM’s standard operating procedure when deciding to take on a new client. Yet this was AJ they were talking about, not another job. It wasn’t designed for this kind of situation.

  Didn’t mean it wouldn’t work.

  There was only one way to find out.

  He reached for the phone and dialed.

  * * *

  “Final call for Flight DJ 512 to the Gold Coast. Would all passengers for Flight DJ 512 please make their way to gate twenty-seven as your plane is now ready for takeoff.”

  AJ rushed off the moving walkway, readjusted the satchel strap across her shoulders, then broke into a jog, wheeling her suitcase behind her. Her sneakers squeaked on the polished floor as the Sydney terminal windows flashed by. Twenty-four, twenty-five...

  Twenty-seven. She ground to a halt, shoving back a loose curl from her ponytail. The line was still a dozen people deep.

  With a relieved sigh, she dug in her bag and grabbed the boarding pass. The cheap ticket was nonrefundable and she wasn’t about to impose on her brother-in-law’s generosity and squat another night in his newly built Potts Point apartment, not when he had potential buyers waiting in the wings.

  Just then her phone rang, and after three rings she finally found it at the bottom of her bag.

  It was Matthew. She shuffled forward in the line. “Yes?”

  “Where are you?”

  She frowned, eyeing the moving queue. “Why?”

  “We need to talk.”

  “Please remember all phones must be turned off,” the flight attendant politely announced, her gaze lingering on AJ as she reached out for her boarding pass. AJ shook her head and stepped out of line, allowing a man in a business suit to grumble past.

  She fiddled with her bag strap. “Look, I’m just about to get on a plane. If you want to yell at me again—”

  “I just want to talk about your...proposal.”

  “Ma’am? Are you boarding?” The flight attendant’s respectful smile flickered with impatience.

  “AJ?” Matt said in her ear.

  AJ wavered as she eyed the cavernous departure tunnel that would take her back to her life. A vaguely unsatisfying life, one that lacked true purpose and follow-through after she’d finally decided what she wanted.

  “What do you want to say?” she finally asked.

  She heard him sigh. “Can we not do this over the phone?”

  “My flight is boarding, Matt. Unless you have a spare ticket to compensate me for my fare—”

  “Done. I’ll pick you up d
ownstairs in twenty minutes.”

  “But—”

  “You wanted to talk. So we’ll talk.”

  She sighed. That didn’t mean he’d say anything she wanted to hear. She wasn’t about to get her hopes up to have him crush them all over again: she’d done that once and look where that had gotten her.

  “You still there?”

  “Yes.” She rubbed at the spot behind her ear, tugging on the lobe.

  “AJ, you’re asking for my help. I need to know details before I commit either way.”

  “Miss,” the flight attendant said, her smile tight. “I’ll need to have your boarding pass.”

  That’s when AJ finally made a choice. “Okay,” she said into the phone, numbly shaking her head at the attendant and turning away. “Twenty minutes.”

  Seven

  AJ waited in the pickup bay, hesitant anticipation congealing in her stomach. The longer she stood there, the tighter her nerves got. Did this mean he’d changed his mind about her proposal? Surely it did. He wouldn’t make her miss her flight just to tell her what a dumb idea it was, right?

  Still, it didn’t stop her from nervously humming The Wizard of Oz theme song under her breath. “Somewhere Over the Rainbow”—a familiar soothing song she used to sing to Emily when they were kids, drowning out their parents on a drunken bender, partying loudly at two in the morning. While strangers passed out in the bathroom or stormed up and down the hall, Emily had crawled into AJ’s bed and they’d held each other in the scary dark. And AJ had waveringly sung that song about hopes and dreams and following them to find a better place.

  Don’t think about them. Think about yourself, about what’s happening right here, right now.

  By the time she spotted the sleek ash-gray Jaguar purring up to the parking bay, she’d worked herself into a state. Yet she still noticed a dozen pairs of eyes swivel to take in the sporty car, their gaze running over the smooth lines with a mix of envy, joy and blatant lust.

  Then Matt eased from the driver’s seat and she could swear she heard the appreciative murmurs, even over the general chaos of Sydney airport.