‘Tasha, how nice you were able to join us tonight.’
‘A lovely meal and delightful company,’ she complimented with sincerity. ‘Thank you for the invitation.’
‘Our pleasure. One trusts the corporate world is treating you well?’
The mores and vagaries of the legal fraternity were complex, and Tasha managed a suitably innocuous response that earned a solemn smile.
Soleil, she noted idly, had managed to capture Jared’s attention and the image of his head inclined towards hers remained as a photographic visualisation that continued to haunt during the evening.
Tasha was deep in conversation with the wife of a noted prosecuting attorney when she sensed Jared’s presence at her side.
She possessed an internal antenna where he was concerned, almost a sixth sense that was as uncanny as it was surprising. A few weeks ago she would have viewed the feeling with benevolent affection, mentally waxing lyrical they might have known each other in another life…perhaps twin halves of a soul.
Now it was accompanied by an unaccustomed ache in the region of her heart that had little to do with anything she cared to name.
‘You’ll excuse us, Jonathon?’
Jared’s voice was silk-smooth, polite with the merest edge. Tasha wondered at it, and the coil of tension emanating from his powerful body.
This close she could sense the faint drift of his exclusive cologne mingling with the scent of freshly laundered cotton, the elusive smell of expensive cloth used by the Italian tailor who’d fashioned his suit.
Old money, inherited through several generations, wisely invested to ensure wealth built and multiplied during the lifetimes of several highly professional men.
Jared, she knew, was pursued for his wealth and social standing. Beneath the sophisticated façade was an innate wariness, a cynicism prepared to deal with the social climbers and opportunists. An undetectable barrier only those very close to him were aware of.
It had amused him when she’d refused to accept his gifts, with the exception of birthdays and Christmas.
She could recall informing him with solemn dignity that, while she appreciated his intention, she believed the most important gift was beyond price…and he’d already gifted her that. Himself.
Now she wasn’t so sure.
‘You’ll excuse us if we leave?’ Jared inclined, reaching for her hand as he offered Jonathon a salutary compliment. ‘There are a few aspects I need to clarify in my notes before tomorrow’s session.’
Five minutes later Tasha buckled the seat belt as Jared slid in behind the wheel, fired the engine, then he eased the car down the driveway and onto the street.
A sudden shower swept in, lashing the windscreen with rain, only to ease to a light drizzle within minutes.
At this evening hour the traffic had slowed considerably, and Jared brought the car to a smooth halt in a parking bay adjacent to the main entrance to her apartment building, then cut the engine and doused the lights.
Tasha reached for the door clasp. ‘Thanks for the ride.’
He rested a forearm on the steering wheel and leaned towards her. ‘Why the hurry?’
Because if he touched her, she’d be lost. ‘You expressed the need to go through your notes.’
‘Concern for my welfare, Tasha?’
‘Your client,’ she corrected evenly, and her eyes widened as he captured her face.
‘How considerate.’ He lowered his head and brushed his mouth to hers in a slow, sweet kiss.
Dear heaven. It took all her strength not to respond to the light graze of his teeth, and a low groan rose and died in her throat as he took her deep in an evocative sensual onslaught that left her wanting more.
So much more, she despaired, aware just how easy it would be to succumb to his persuasive touch. There was a part of her that wanted to fist his shirt in one hand and drag him indoors, ride the lift to her apartment, and tear off his clothes as she pulled him into the bedroom.
She wanted his mouth at her breast, the feel of his arousal against her belly, his hands…and she wanted to touch him, savour the taste of his skin, absorb his male essence, in a no-holds-barred mating that took sexual hunger to a new dimension.
A faint whimper escaped from her throat as Jared eased back a little, and for a wild moment she clung to him, on the verge of beseeching him for more.
Oh, God. Words rose to the surface, and she held them back with difficulty. The blood drained from her face, leaving it pale in the reflected outdoor lighting, and her eyes were large from shock and unshed tears.
His fingers brushed her cheek, then settled at the edge of her mouth to linger and lightly trace the soft contours of her lips swollen from his kiss.
He wanted to make love with her. Hold her close, and never let her go. And he would…soon. For now, he had to give her the time and space she vowed she needed. But not for long.
‘I left making out in cars behind with my teens,’ he teased musingly.
She had to try for levity. Anything else would be a recipe for disaster…hers. ‘Would that have been the BMW, Jag, four-wheel-drive? Or had you progressed to a Porsche?’
‘I remember the occasion, but not the vehicle.’ His response brought the reaction he coveted…a light-hearted laugh.
‘And the girl?’
‘Some were more memorable than others.’ But none who came close to you, he added silently.
There was an awkward silence, one neither of them rushed to fill. Then Tasha drew apart from him and unlatched the door. ‘Goodnight.’
He watched as she slid from the car. ‘I’ll call you.’
Jared waited as she used a coded key to open the outer door, then bypass the security system. She didn’t look back as she stepped towards the bank of lifts, and he only fired the engine when the lift doors closed behind her.
CHAPTER FIVE
IN a way it was a relief to absorb the extra workload distribution incurred by an associate absent due to emergency family leave, for it kept Tasha busy with little time to think or brood on personal issues.
Or at least that was what she told herself.
In reality Jared’s image was there, so frequently to the forefront of her mind she had to school herself to focus on the work in hand.
Mistakes were inexcusable, and she went to painstaking lengths to ensure none was made. ‘Autopilot’ mode wasn’t an option.
Just as she thought she had a handle on things there was a call from Reception.
‘There’s a special delivery for you,’ Amanda informed.
Tasha checked her watch and verified she had five minutes before a client appointment. ‘I’ll be right out.’
She was expecting a contract via courier service, a document she needed to peruse and compile an overview of before presenting it to an associate colleague the next day. Legalese presented a multifaceted minefield which could prove hazardous to the unwary. Each clause required close examination to ensure there were no loopholes and locked in a client’s express needs.
Except it wasn’t a slim courier package on Amanda’s reception desk. Instead, a large bouquet of red roses bound in Cellophane reposed there, and her stomach lurched at the thought of who had sent them.
‘Special occasion, or something?’
Tasha managed a smile. ‘Or something.’
‘I’ll organise a vase,’ Amanda declared with friendly efficiency.
‘Thanks.’ She caught up the bouquet and waited until she was in her office before extracting the card.
‘Love, Jared’.
Love? That was a joke. Did he even comprehend the true meaning of the word?
His interpretation didn’t match her own. And if he thought a bouquet of roses would soften her resolve, then he was way off base.
In the privacy of her office she took a few seconds to admire the perfect velvet-petalled buds, and she inhaled their scent, remembering other occasions when Jared had gifted her roses.
Don’t go there.
There was a tap on her door, and she hurriedly composed herself as she bade entry.
‘Vase with water,’ Amanda said cheerfully as she deposited it on a credenza. ‘Want some help? Your client is waiting in Reception.’
Tasha offered a warm smile. ‘Thanks. Give me a minute, then show her in.’
The courier duly delivered the contract, which she perused over lunch sent out for and eaten at her desk. She noted down queries, points of reference, then she dealt with what the afternoon threw at her, staying back an hour before driving home.
Although home was a misnomer, and there was a teeth-gnashing moment when she automatically entered a familiar traffic lane on exiting her office block…only to discover at the next intersection it would lead her over the river en route to Jared’s apartment. A muttered imprecation at her absentmindedness was followed by something more explicit when no one would allow her to switch lanes…which meant she was trapped into following a route she didn’t want.
It was several minutes before she could divert and backtrack, and she ignored the insistent peal of her cell-phone, choosing to let the call go to message-bank.
Jared. He could wait, she decided, until she’d had something to eat and taken time to relax and unwind a little from a hectic day. One that was far from done, for she needed to go through her notes, check references, and compile a suitable précis. An early night wasn’t going to be an option.
First she needed to slip out of her stiletto heels and exchange her formal suit for casual attire, then she’d unpin her hair from its smooth twist and cleanse off her make-up.
A chicken salad sufficed as dinner, and she added some fruit, then she took bottled water from the refrigerator and set up her laptop at the kitchen table.
She was on to the third reference analysis when the doorbell pealed, and she stilled momentarily, curious when the only person to her knowledge who knew her new address was Jared. Given the building’s security, he’d have had to buzz her first before gaining entry.
Cautious, she checked the peephole, identified her immediate neighbour, and unlocked the door.
‘Damian.’ His infectious grin brought forth a faint smile. ‘Is this a social call? I’m kind of busy right now.’
‘Social. I’m meeting up with a few friends at a downtown café, and thought you might like to join us.’
‘Thanks, but—’
‘No, thanks?’ he interceded with a quizzical lift of one eyebrow.
‘Another time, perhaps?’
The insistent peal of her cell-phone proved an interruption, and she lifted both hands in an apologetic gesture. ‘I’d better take that.’
She closed the door, then picked up on the call.
‘Rough day?’
Her toes curled at the sound of Jared’s deep drawl, and she closed her eyes in self-directed exasperation at the effect he had on her nervous system.
‘You could say that,’ she managed politely, then memory and good manners rose to the surface. ‘Thanks for the roses.’ She’d left them at the office. In the morning she intended to shift them out to Reception for the firm’s clientele to enjoy.
‘My pleasure.’
Just thinking what his pleasure could involve sent her pulse into overdrive. ‘Is there a particular reason for your call?’
‘Other than to say hello?’
She bit back an expressive sigh. ‘I’ve brought work home, I have at least three hours ahead of me, and I’m—’
‘Have you eaten?’
Her fingers tightened round the cell-phone. ‘What is this? Check-up time?’
‘A simple yes or no will suffice.’
‘Yes.’
‘Shall we start over?’ He sounded vaguely amused.
‘As in?’
‘I was going to suggest we go somewhere for coffee.’
‘I’m not dressed to go anywhere.’
‘We don’t necessarily have to go out.’
Staying in held implications she didn’t care to pursue. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’
Sometimes it was necessary to lose a battle in order to win the war. ‘Not if you need to work late. Goodnight, Tasha. Sleep well.’
Who did he think he was, keeping tabs on her? She felt inclined to call him back and tell him just what she thought of him!
She was about to dial his number when the cell-phone rang.
She activated the call and recited her personalised series of digits, then uttered a curt, ‘Yes?’
‘Is this a bad time?’
‘Eloise.’ She took a deep breath and released it. ‘Hi.’
‘Lunch, tomorrow? That lovely place upstairs in the gallery of the Brisbane arcade? One o’clock?’
‘Love to. Shall I ring and book a table?’
‘I’ll take care of it. Are you OK?’
‘I’m fine,’ she assured, and knew she lied. ‘Just a bad day, staff away, a work overload. You know how it goes.’
‘We’ll talk tomorrow.’
Tasha arrived late through no fault of her own, gave her order, and prepared for a barrage of questions.
Eloise didn’t disappoint, and after requesting a detailed description of the apartment, the move, work…the next subject was Jared.
‘We speak on the phone,’ Tasha admitted and caught a speculative gleam as Eloise queried,
‘Have you been out together?’
‘Not exactly.’
‘Sweetheart, either you have or you haven’t.’
She shrugged. ‘Dinner on Monday in response to an invitation issued a couple of weeks ago.’
‘And?’
‘There is no and,’ she refuted firmly.
‘Like, it was a date? Jared picked you up and dropped you home again? No—’
‘No,’ Tasha interrupted firmly.
‘I’m impressed.’ Eloise offered an infectious smile. ‘Anything else?’
‘You’re unconscionable.’
‘I’m also your very best friend.’
A friendship that extended way back to junior-grade school. They’d shared teenage years, been there for each other during the bad times. Eloise’s parents’ divorce was one of them. Tasha’s father’s succession of failed marriages numbered five at the last count, and the last she’d heard he was courting a wealthy Texan widow. Tasha had no sooner become used to one stepmother when there was another lined up waiting to take her place.
It hadn’t made for a stable upbringing, and boarding-school had become a haven, together with a resolve to get a law degree and succeed.
Tasha covered Eloise’s hand with her own. ‘I know.’ She worried her bottom lip with the edge of her teeth. ‘He sent me roses.’
‘The man adores you,’ Eloise said with certainty.
‘He enjoyed what we had,’ she amended. ‘A comfortable lifestyle, commitment to each other, no strings. At least not the ties that bind.’
‘And you want those ties?’
Her eyes darkened and she dug fingernails into her palm. ‘For the right reasons.’ She picked up her teacup and was surprised to discover her hand was trembling. ‘Do you blame me? My father hasn’t exactly provided a shining example of wedded bliss.’
‘It doesn’t mean you’ll follow the same pattern,’ Eloise said gently.
Tasha replaced the cup and checked her watch. ‘I have to get back. You don’t need to leave. Stay and finish your coffee. I’m taking care of the tab.’
‘No, you’re not.’
‘Humour me. You can pick up on the next one.’
Tasha woke next morning at the sound of the alarm, stretched, then made a dash for the bathroom.
Dear heaven, if this was morning sickness, she didn’t want it!
Hot sweet tea and toast. It had worked yesterday. It had better work today, she vowed grimly as she stepped into the kitchen. The shower could wait…everything could wait until her stomach settled.
Some pregnant women, she’d read in the pregnancy bible, suffered sickness symptoms morning, noon and nigh
t. For the entire nine months.
She placed a hand over her stomach. ‘Baby,’ she admonished huskily, ‘if you do the morning, noon and night thing to me, Mama is going to utter words your tender ears should never hear!’
Within half an hour she felt relatively human, and she hurriedly showered, dressed, and left for the city.
As days went, hers was a doozy.
It was bad enough she was running late, a situation made worse when her car refused to start. No mechanic, she nevertheless checked the rudimentary possibilities, then switched on the ignition. Nothing.
Hell and damnation.
‘Trouble?’ a voice queried, and she turned, recognised Damian, and threw her hands up in the air.
‘It won’t start.’
He popped the hood and fiddled, then slid in behind the wheel, twisted the key in the ignition, then pursed his lips. ‘Battery. Dead as a dodo.’
As she saw it, she had two choices. Organise a replacement and be late in to the office. Or call a taxi.
‘Leave your car key with Management,’ Damian suggested. ‘I’ll drop you into the city, and you can use your cell-phone to arrange with a mobile battery service to instal a replacement and bill you.’
Constructive help was a godsend, and she told him so. ‘I owe you one.’
Nevertheless she was late, a fact that earned a terse reprimand from an important client who made it evident he didn’t appreciate cooling his heels for any reason.
From there on in, things got worse. A meeting ran over time, the secretarial pool was diminished by two absent on sick leave, resulting in documents only ranking high on priority were prepared, and lunch was something she missed entirely.
Mid-afternoon her inter-office line buzzed, and she frowned as she reached for the phone. Her next appointment wasn’t due for another half-hour.
‘Delivery for you,’ Amanda informed with bright efficiency.
‘I’ll come get it.’
A single red rose in a Cellophane cylinder reposed in Reception, and Tasha met the receptionist’s dreamy smile.
The Pregnancy Proposal Page 6
