Nicola Marsh - Impossibly Pregnant

Not bad—black bootleg pants, burgundy fitted top, hair blow-dried to perfection and just a hint of make-up to make the most of what the good Lord had given her.

Not great, but not bad. Hopefully, Lachlan would be impressed.

As she opened the front door and his eyes lit up she had her answer.

‘Hi,’ was all she could manage.

If she thought he’d looked impressive at the office that morning, in suit and tie, it was nothing compared with his casual look. The combination of jeans, white T-shirt and black leather jacket had never looked so sexy on a man—and this was no ordinary man.

‘You look great. Ready to go?’

She nodded, finally managing to tear her gaze away from the way the white cotton moulded to what looked like rock-hard pecs beneath.

‘Just let me grab my bag,’ she said, hoping that the bag was all she managed to grab in the next sixty seconds.

As if she hadn’t had a hard enough time convincing herself that tonight was only about business, he had to turn up here looking like that.

‘Nice apartment.’ He stood at the door looking in and she suddenly realised that the minute she’d caught sight of him all rational thought—along with her manners—had flown out the window.

‘Come in,’ she said, getting more flustered by the minute as she picked up her bag and his file slid to the floor.

Great—she must’ve forgotten to zip it up earlier, when she’d slid a brush and lippy for touch-ups alongside the all-important folder.

‘Here, let me help.’ He bent down and reached for the scattered papers at the same time she did, their heads colliding in a sickening crunch.

‘Ouch!’ She sank back on to the floor and rubbed her forehead, silently cursing. It looked as if her clumsy curse around cute guys had reared its ugly head again.

Thankfully, he laughed and reached out a hand to help her off the floor. ‘Do I make you uncomfortable or are you always this graceful?’

‘It’s you,’ she said, and joined in with a rueful chuckle.

‘Mmm…first you up-end half your desk when I sit next to you, now you drop your bag when I get within two feet and give me a concussion in the process. It must be me.’

He pulled her up as she placed her hand in his and true to form, she stumbled against him. Totally unintentional, of course.

As she braced herself against his chest—yep, those pecs felt every bit as good as they looked—and he gazed down on her with a tender glint in his eyes, she suddenly didn’t mind being such a klutz.

And when he rested his hands on her hips and smiled in that special way he had, as if she was the only woman in the world, she could’ve quite happily caused havoc by stumbling, upending bags and messing up desks every day of the week.

‘If I’m the problem, what’s the remedy?’

‘You’re the doc, why don’t you tell me?’ Her voice came out all soft and breathy while her pulse raced double-time as his hands tightened their grip, sending bolts of electricity shooting through her body.

So much for playing it cool. They hadn’t even made it out of her apartment and the evening had taken on an intimate feel.

‘Take two kisses and call me in the morning.’

O-kay. Think quick. Respond with something light-hearted and witty.

However, all she could do was stand there and stare at him while his gaze stayed riveted to her lips, as if he’d like to follow up on the first part of his advice. As he leaned forward her heart jolted at the clear intent in his eyes and she was sure the air crackled with tension around them.

Work…assignment…client…

The words filtered through her dazed mind and acted like an instant dampener and she reluctantly looked away.

‘If that’s one of your cures, I’m not surprised you’re so popular,’ she murmured, managing a weak smile as her gaze fixed on his chest.

What would he think of her almost letting him kiss her? Totally unprofessional for starters, and as for the rest…

He tipped her chin up, gently forcing her to meet his stare. ‘Don’t second-guess yourself.’

How did he do that? She’d begun to doubt herself the minute she’d averted their near-kiss and he knew it. Despite her intoxicated ranting over the airwaves last week, he did know his stuff. And wouldn’t he have a field-day if he found out why she’d been so riled about his advice to the overweight teenager that night she’d given him a verbal blast?

She opened her mouth to respond and he placed a silencing finger against it. ‘And, no, I don’t dish out that remedy to just anyone.’

‘That’s reassuring.’ She aimed for brevity but her comment came out sarcastic as she pulled away from him completely, needing to establish physical distance between them to gather her thoughts.

Rather than pushing her for an explanation for her erratic behaviour—welcoming his attention one minute, freezing him out the next—as she half-expected him to do, he fixed her with a curious stare before turning away.

‘As much as I’d like to cure your clumsiness, we’d better get to the station. I need to be on the air in less than an hour.’ He picked up her bag and handed it to her as if nothing had happened. ‘All set?’

She managed to nod, follow him out and lock up without further mishap. However, amidst her confused state at what had just occurred, one thought penetrated.

If kisses were part of his cure, she suddenly had a distinct hankering for treatment.

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