Tessa Radley - Expecting His Child - The Pregnancy Plot / Staking His Claim / A Tricky Proposition

They ordered. When they were alone again, silence reigned. Matt watched the way AJ’s gaze dropped, her eyelashes fanning down over her cheeks. She tucked her hands under the table and leaned forward, forearms pressed against the table edge. She still didn’t meet his eyes, instead focusing solely on the fractured light streaming through the blue glass water bottle centered on their table.

“So.” He poured a glass of water. “You’re an artist.”

She glanced up. “You could say that.”

“People buy your stuff, right? So I’d say that makes you one.” He pointed to her glass, and she nodded. They both watched him pour, the awkward tension punctuated only by the soft glug of water filling the glass. “What medium do you work in?”

“I don’t mind oils but much prefer watercolors.” She wrapped her fingers around her glass and pulled it across the table. “They dry quicker and the customers don’t have to wait long.”

“Did you study art at uni?”

“No. All self-taught.” She took a sip of water. “Story of my life, really.”

He was ready with a dozen more questions but he clamped his mouth shut instead.

A few more moments passed, moments in which she refused wine, then casually cast her eye around the restaurant, observing the diners, the staff, the decor. And he, in turn, took his time and studied her with leisurely pleasure. The curve of her cheek that he knew was just as soft as when he’d first touched it. The delicate earlobe full of sensitive nerves that made her alternately shiver then gasp. The stunning hair that curled around his fingers with a life of its own.

When her gaze finally returned to him, his expression must have given him away.

“What?”

He couldn’t help but smile. “Nothing.”

“Tell me,” she persisted, a cautious, curious smile matching his. So he crooked his finger, beckoning her closer.

“Ten years has made you more beautiful.” Startled, she pulled back, looking down at the table. “Angel, are you blushing?”

“I don’t blush.”

“I think you are.”

She snapped her gaze back to his, eyes sparkling. “Fine. I am.”

“I never knew a woman to take such offense at being called beautiful.”

“Oh? So you’re free and easy with your compliments, are you?”

“Women like compliments.”

“I’m sure they do,” she replied archly.

He grinned. “But you are...unique.”

“Thanks. I think.”

“You’re welcome, Angel.”

He heard her tiny intake of breath. “Can you stop calling me that?”

“Why? You liked it once.”

She tightened her grip on the glass and glared for a few seconds. Then she shrugged and took another sip of water. “Fine, whatever.”

Oh, he was getting to her, all right.

“Matt,” she started casually, steadily focused on rotating her wineglass by the stem.

“Yes?”

She paused, then shook her head. “It’s none of my business.”

Matt leaned in. “I’ll tell you if that’s the case. Ask me anyway.”

Her shoulders straightened, then she gave a little head tilt. “Why did you quit Saint Cat’s?”

He cupped his glass in his hand, swirling the contents. “Jack—my younger brother—died four years ago.”

Her gaze softened as she looked into his eyes. “Oh, Matt, I’m—”

“It’s okay.” He raised a hand, shaking his head. “It’s fine.”

It wasn’t. It never would be. But she didn’t need to know that.

“What happened?”

“He fell while climbing the Taurus mountain ranges in Istanbul. If emergency response had been quicker, he probably would’ve made it.”

“Is that why you set up GEM?”

“After I dropped off the grid for a year, yeah.”

“Where’d you go?”

“Nepal. China. Europe.” He automatically slid the butter tray across the table as she broke her roll apart.

“How’d your parents take it?”

“Like I’d committed professional suicide.”

That year consisted of a bunch of strung-together blurry memories, not much more. He’d experienced a life other than his perfectly mapped out one, drifting around on a whim, helping where he could, getting dirty and frequently drunk without having to think about the consequences. The world was huge and there’d been so many places he’d tried to lose himself.

“But did you enjoy it?” AJ asked.

“Yes. I met people, made friends.” He paused, remembering. “One good mate who’s now head of security at GEM. I did some amazing stuff.”

“Like?”

Lord, when she smiled like that the tight ache in his heart eased. “I hiked the Andes, backpacked the Greek Islands. Biked around France, joined a rebuilding project on some dilapidated castle in southern Italy...”

Her sigh was envious. “See, that’s my only problem with Australia—we’re too far from the rest of the world.”

He watched her methodically butter her roll then take a bite, releasing a small murmur of delight as her teeth tore into the bread. “Still love bread, huh?”

She nodded with a sheepish grin, demurely placing the rest of the roll on her side plate. “I’m surprised you remember. Most men I know have this innate ability to delete great chunks of information from their brains.” She grinned, taking the edge off.

“Not me.” He leaned in, extending one arm so his hand rested a bare millimeter from hers.

AJ tried—but failed—to ignore that hand so dangerously close to hers. “That’s right. You’re the only guy I know with total recall.”

“Now that was a great movie. The original, not the remake.”

She quirked her eyebrows. “I didn’t know you were an Arnold fan.”

“Oh, there’s a lot about me you don’t know.”

“Like...?” It was out before she could stop it, before she could remind herself of her three rules.

Never count on anyone. Never get close enough to care. Never, ever get comfortable.

But she did care. She was only human.

He reached out, tracing one finger over her knuckles. “I sang at the Opera House once.”

“Get out! You did not.”

“Did so. It was a statewide school thing, with the best from each primary school choir performing for two nights.”

“So you can sing.”

He shrugged. “Not spectacularly, but yeah.”

“Are you trying to impress me?” She smiled as the waitress arrived with their meals.

“Is it working?”

“Maybe.”

He threw back his head and laughed, and the rich deep sound warmed her from the inside out. Lord, she’d missed that laugh. Missed the way his eyes creased at the corners, the way that sensuous mouth curved into something sinful.

She settled into eating her meal. The chicken was delicious, cooked in a creamy sauce with just a hint of rosemary and oregano. She took another mouthful and murmured under her breath.

“Good?” Matt asked.

She nodded. “You should try this.” She’d already cut off a piece, offering her fork, when the memory hit. Another time, another place. Sharing one of many meals, getting through only a few bites before they’d given in to another craving. The food had been stone cold by the time they’d returned, flushed and physically sated.

He leaned in to take her offering. With a grin he chewed, eyes never leaving hers. “Delicious. Do you want to try mine?”

Yes. “Okay.”

She was fully aware of his scrutiny as she parted her lips, slipped the steak in, then let the fork slowly ease from her mouth. The peppery sauce hinted at a few familiar herbs—pesto, basil, a little garlic. She nodded, swallowing. “Wow.”

“Yeah.”

The seconds lengthened, intimacy warming the moment. Shadows and light flickered over them and suddenly his eyes turned way too serious.