Teresa Carpenter - A Pregnancy, a Party & a Proposal

“Nothing for—”

“Thank you, Julie.” Ray cut Lauren off. “Please bring a selection of bagels, fruit, and yogurt.”

Lauren slammed him with a glare at his arrogant disregard for her wishes. She should know if she was hungry.

“May I take your things?” Julie offered. “There’s a closet at the front of the cabin. You’ll have full access during the flight.”

Lauren handed off her purse and coat. She waited until the other woman had disappeared before addressing Ray.

“If you hope to get along on this trip you will refrain from treating me like a child.”

“Then don’t behave like one.”

His gaze roved over her. She felt the weight of it everywhere it touched.

“You’re still pale. Food helped in the car. I can only assume it would be better if you had something more. It would please me if you ate. But the choice is yours.”

She gritted her teeth. To argue further would only make her sound petty.

Luckily the pilot’s voice filled the cabin. “Please fasten your seatbelts. We’ll be departing momentarily.”

Avoiding Ray’s gaze, she glanced out the window as the plane began to move. His reasonableness did nothing to appease her. In fact it only annoyed her, putting her in the position of being unreasonable—an intolerable situation, which was totally his fault.

It would please him if she ate? Seriously?

Right this minute she felt fine. She hoped to stay that way through takeoff. And the thought of food...? Not helping.

As a view of the airport, planes, and air traffic personnel flowed by the porthole window she marveled once again at her current circumstances. The only explanation she could come up with was she must have royally ticked off Lady Karma in another life, because she should not be pregnant.

She’d started on the pill. Ray had worn condoms. Yeah, they’d been frantic for each other, but they’d also been responsible. Okay, there had been that once when the condom broke. Yet—hello?—still on the pill. Sure, her doctor had warned her that it took time for the body to adjust, but it had been a month. Well, almost.

The force of takeoff pushed her back in her seat as the plane began to rise. Her fingers curled into fists on the armrests, her nails digging into the soft leather. She closed her eyes, willed her stomach to behave.

“Are you okay?”

Ray’s voice sounded next to her ear at the same time as a warm hand settled over her clenched fingers.

Her eyes flew open. When had he moved next to her?

More to the point, when had his touch become an instant soother?

It had to be the distraction, her logical mind asserted, but she didn’t care. She turned her hand over, threaded her fingers through his and accepted the warmth and comfort he freely offered.

Tension eased away, taking the rising nausea with it.

“Thank you.” She gave him a feeble smile.

“Nervous flyer?” he sympathized.

“Mmm...” She made a noncommittal sound. Poor guy. Her hormones were all over the place, her emotions likewise. Talk about mixed signals. She didn’t know how she felt—how could he begin to guess?

“Not usually.” She made an effort to participate in the conversation, hoping the resulting distraction would continue to work on her mind and stomach. “I guess I’m nervous about the whole trip. We haven’t truly discussed how we’re going to handle things. I’m not comfortable lying to your grandmother.”

“Me neither,” he said. “So we don’t lie.”

Eying his stoic expression, she felt the muscles in her shoulders begin to tense again. “If you’re suggesting—”

“I’m not.” He squeezed her fingers. “We’re friends. At least I hope you consider me a friend. That’s what we put out there.”

Because his touch felt too good, she pulled her hand free of his. On another level she noticed the plane had leveled out. “But everyone has an expectation there’s more between us.”

“Exactly. We’ll just be ourselves and they’ll see what they want to see.”

She tapped her fingers on the armrest as she considered his approach. “Still seems a little artificial.”

“The power of illusion comes from a collective awareness. People believe what they want to believe. Directors use viewer expectations as a tool to manipulate the audience’s emotions all the time. It doesn’t make what they feel any less real.”

“Do you hear the words you’re using? Manipulate...audience . This is your family we’re talking about, not a theater full of moviegoers.”

She understood the concept he presented, and, yes, she expected it would work as well as he stated. The truth worked for her. Leaving his family with preconceived notions that went well beyond reality was more iffy.

“Look.” His gaze earnest, he picked up her hand, swept his thumb over the pulse at her wrist. “I know the girlfriend front isn’t ideal. Ordinarily I wouldn’t even consider it. But you have no idea how upset my grandmother sounded.” Concern darkened his eyes to a soft azure. “If this plan lifts her spirits, it’s worth a little discomfort on my part.”

“Okay,” she agreed. And again removed her hand from under his. Bottom line: his concern was genuine. And, if she were honest, it wasn’t as if she and Tori hadn’t occasionally manufactured events to gain their mother’s cooperation to get something they wanted.

His family—his call. She’d agreed to come, so she’d do as he wished.

“Teatime.”

Julie had arrived with a cart. She reached past them to pull a table from a wall slot, trapping Lauren next to Ray. The sudden intimacy suffocated her. She wanted to protest. Of course she didn’t.

She was too strong to give in to weakness, too smart to reveal it to the opposition.

Onto the table Julie slid a tray, artfully displaying an array of bagels, both toasted and non-toasted, along with a healthy heaping of cream cheese, butter, and jellies. There were containers of yogurt and a lovely selection of fresh fruit. Next came steaming pots of hot water and a small basket of teas.

A midsized plate and linen-wrapped silverware were placed in front of each of them. “May I serve you?” Julie asked.

“We’ll help ourselves, thank you.” Ray’s charming smile caused the poised woman to blush.

“Please buzz me if you require anything more,” she bade them, and then disappeared to her niche in the front of the plane.

Lauren waited for her stomach to revolt. When it didn’t she reached for the basket of teas, chose a soothing decaffeinated blend and steeped it in one of the pots. When it looked the right color, she poured the brew into a delicate teacup.

Ray slathered cream cheese on a cinnamon bagel and slid melon, pineapple chunks and a few blackberries on his plate.

“Can I fix you anything?” he asked, after she’d taken her first sip.

“Perhaps half a plain bagel, with a light spread of cream cheese.”

He nodded and a moment later placed it on her plate. She cut it into quarters and picked up a corner to nibble on.

“You know, I’m all for sticking to the truth and all...” She set her cup back in its saucer. “But the details are still going to be a bit sketchy. You do realize we’ve never been on an actual date?” She stabbed at a plump berry on his plate and ate it.

His eyes narrowed in thought. He reached for a carton of peach yogurt, opened it and scooped in a few berries. He took a couple of bites before pointing his spoon at her.

“We’ve kept a low profile.”

Her brows lifted. “You’re a little too good at this.”

He grinned and offered her the yogurt carton. “I’m a director. It’s my job to invent and interpret.”

“Convenient.” Not even thinking about it, she accepted the yogurt.