Nicola Marsh - Impossibly Pregnant

From her rigid posture and fiddling fingers to her tapping foot, she seemed nervous.

And so she should be.

The sophisticated woman doing her best to impress him with her knowledge had a secret and, though he hadn’t said anything yet, he was on to her.

Cops never forgot a face, and in his profession, after three years on the radio, he never forgot a voice. Though his late-night caller last week had sounded intoxicated, he remembered every cadence, every modulation of the melodious voice that had scrutinized his character and found it lacking.

He’d been angry at the time, and now that his beautiful heckler had been unexpectedly dropped in his lap, could’ve fired both barrels at her. However, he was in a playful mood today. Perhaps he would string her along till he felt like doing a little heckling of his own?

‘Do you have any ideas about the image you want portrayed on your web page?’

She picked up a pen and tapped it against her thigh as she waited for his answer, and all he could think about was the way her hazel-coloured eyes sparkled with intelligence, how the trendy black pinstripe suit fitted her curvy body to perfection, and what he would give for another glimpse of the cheeky dimple that appeared like an unexpected bonus when she smiled.

‘I’ve been in radio for a while. Perhaps you’ve listened to the Brant Show?’

Bull’s-eye! He watched her blush, the faint pink staining her cheeks lending her face a glow, and suddenly he wondered if any other activities could bring that tinge of colour to her face.

She nodded and looked at some distant point over his left shoulder. ‘I’ve listened to your show on the odd occasion. It’s very interesting.’

‘What do you think of my advice?’

To his delight, her blush deepened. ‘You seem to know what you’re talking about.’

The pen she held increased its staccato tempo against her thigh and, despite the fun he was having in baiting her, he decided to put an end to her obvious discomfort.

‘Thanks. The producers of my prospective TV show want to capture some of my expertise from radio while adding a fresh look at the same time. Think you can help me out?’

Tucking the pen behind her ear and swivelling to face the PC monitor, she smiled and his blood pressure rocketed. God, she was beautiful—from her shoulder-length sleek chocolate-brown hair to that adorable dimple.

He hadn’t dated anyone in a while, after the last disaster. His ex-girlfriend hadn’t tolerated a man who worked all hours and, though he’d spent quality time with her, she’d ended the relationship after four short months.

Maybe it was time to get back into the dating scene? Starting with the lovely Keely, who had switched her attention to the screen in front of her as she navigated through a host of complex computer programs while he studied her.

‘I’m sure I can help. Is this like something you had in mind?’

He glanced at the screen, surprised at the speed with which she’d conjured up a pro forma. ‘Wow, you’re a whiz on that thing.’

She shrugged and turned away, as if uncomfortable with his praise. ‘It’s what I do. If you don’t like the layout or colour scheme we can change it easily, but I thought you might like this?’

She’d chosen a bold template with a black background and royal blue font—very contemporary, very eye-catching.

‘I like it. I’m that easy to read, huh?’

Once again, he caught a spark in her eyes that had him itching to close the short distance between them and haul her into his arms. He’d never had caveman tendencies before, but there was something about her that just begged him to show her his club and coerce her into heading back to his cave.

She folded her hands in her lap, probably to stop them fiddling, and looked directly into his eyes. ‘It’s a talent I have, reading people. It helps in my job, in delivering exactly what the client is after. And you seem easier to read than most.’

‘Is that so?’

She nodded, and he resisted the urge to reach out and tuck the strand of hair that swung across her face behind her ear. ‘You’re a successful man, determined to make it to the top of your profession. Image is everything to you and you don’t like people questioning your beliefs. Well-groomed, personable, charming—it’s all part of the persona.’

Oh, she was good.

‘Anything else to add?’

‘I know just the thing to complete the package.’

He leaned forward, eager to hear what she had to say. She’d switched to teasing mode and, with her eyes twinkling and her glossy lips curved in a semi-smile, she had him intrigued.

‘What’s that?’

She hit a button on the keyboard and the screen became animated with a host of fancy graphics flashing across it.

‘Ta-da! The perfect website, of course.’ Her proud grin sent a thrill through him. If she got this excited about her work, imagine her enthusiasm for pursuits outside the office…

He smiled, making an instant decision to take a risk.

‘I like it, though there’s something else that would complete the package much better.’

Her face fell for a moment, as if he’d unjustly criticized her. ‘What’s that?’

Before he could stop himself, he reached across, tipped her chin up with his finger and stared into her remarkable eyes. ‘The perfect woman.’

‘Accessorise wisely. Choose a man with as much care as you would a handbag to go with those divine shoes.’

Tahlia Moran, long-time friend and expert on men.

‘WHAT happened then?’ Emma leaned forward, hanging on every word.

Keely took a sip of her sparkling mineral water and shrugged. ‘Nothing. Lucy came barging into my office and we sprang apart like we’d been doing something wrong.’ She stabbed the last piece of lettuce from her Caesar salad and forked it into her mouth.

Tahlia swivelled her head between the two of them as if watching a Wimbledon Final. ‘So you think he was implying you’re his perfect woman?’

Emma frowned and answered before Keely had a chance. ‘Of course. What else could he mean? Besides, she said he was flirting with her before then anyway.’

Tahlia ignored Emma’s response. ‘Em, you’d see the romantic side of two ants meeting on a crack in a footpath.’

Keely grinned as her two best friends discussed her love life—or lack of one, more like it—as if she wasn’t even there.

‘Romance makes the world go round.’ Emma pronounced it as a fact rather than one of her favourite theories.

‘I think you mean money,’ Tahlia said dryly, beckoning the waiter over to take their coffee order before they rushed back to the office.

Emma shook her head. ‘Not everyone’s as money-oriented as you, Miss Director of Sales.’

‘I’m goal-oriented, not money-oriented. There’s a difference. Nothing wrong with wanting to make it to the top.’

‘What about the glass ceiling?’ Keely teased, knowing her response was guaranteed to get a reaction out of Tahlia every time and thankful that the focus of the conversation had turned away from her encounter with Lachlan Brant.

Tahlia’s green eyes flashed as she waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. ‘No such thing, honey. I’m going places in this company, just watch me. All the way to the top.’

‘Won’t the Rottie have something to say about that?’

Personally, Keely had every confidence that Tahlia would make it to CEO of WWW Designs, and she couldn’t wait for the day when Raquel was ousted from the top job. In fact, every employee would throw the party of the decade when that day came.

Tahlia tucked a strand of chestnut hair into her signature topknot and made an unladylike noise akin to a snort. ‘She won’t have a chance to say anything. I’ll muzzle her before keeping her on a short leash and locked away in her kennel.’