Paula Roe - The Pregnancy Plot

That realization bolstered her courage. “I want a baby.”

His sharp inward breath was harsh in the sudden silence and she paused. If ever there was a moment-killer, this was it.

“What?” he choked out.

“I...” She pressed her lips together, working hard to contain the swelling emotion. A few seconds passed, then a few more before she finally got a handle on it. “I’m thirty-two and single. I’ve met guys but none who—” She swallowed and looked Matt straight in the eye. “I don’t want marriage or a husband—just a baby. I’ve done my homework, even went to a fertility clinic, but my time is running out and it’s so expensive and things fell through and—”

“And you want me to recommend a doctor for you?”

“No. I want you to be the donor.”

He shot to his feet so fast it made her gasp. She stood, too, even as the ferocity of his expression had her inwardly cringing. “I did have someone lined up,” she forged on. “But he—”

“Who?”

“Just some guy. A donor—”

“You thought I was more convenient than ‘just some guy’?”

She winced. “That’s not what I mean. I’ve been thinking—”

“Have you?” His lip curled, nostrils flaring. “Since when?”

“Since you called me the morning after Emily’s wedding.”

He said nothing, just put his hands on his hips and fixed her with such a furious glare that it felt like her face was on fire. “Look, Matt, I know your job is your life. You’ve invested everything in your career—it’s what you live and breathe every day. I totally get that. Don’t you see this is a perfect arrangement for us both? I’m not asking you to give anything up because I plan on raising this child by myself.”

She paused deliberately, putting on a brave show of outward calm while her insides hammered away like a windup toy. At his narrow-eyed silence, she pressed her point. “This isn’t a plan to trap you into marriage or demand child support, and I’ll sign anything you want to convince you of that. This would just be a simple...exchange. It wouldn’t disrupt your life. Once I’m pregnant, we’d go our separate ways.”

She was met with silence.

He crossed his arms, his expression cold. “You have got to be kidding.”

She bit her bottom lip. “Can we talk about this? I thought—”

“No.” He shook his head curtly. “This isn’t a favor, AJ. It’s a goddamn lifelong decision!”

“For me, yes. Not for you.”

His eyes raked her with such ferocity that she nearly flinched. “I was right. You have changed.”

Her bravado crumpled but she refused to let the hurt show. “What makes you so righteous? You don’t know what my life’s been like, Matt.”

“No, I don’t. I never did, remember? We were just in it for a good time.”

Another cheap shot. “Can you tell me what you have to lose? I’m not asking for a piece of your life. I don’t expect a relationship or marriage or anything except—”

“Except sex?”

“Yes.” She tipped her chin up. “We’ve done no-strings-attached sex before. Why not now?”

He said nothing as he stood there, hands back on hips, his mouth an angry slash. AJ met his fierce look with one of her own.

Finally, he glanced down at his watch. “I’m due in a meeting in twenty minutes. Sue at the front desk can arrange a cab for you.”

“But—”

He cut her off by striding to the door and swinging it wide-open. His expression had all the hallmarks of battered pride combined with tightly wound impatience.

She’d insulted him and now he wanted her gone.

With a dry swallow she cleared her throat, refusing to let the bitter disappointment take the form of tears.

“If you change your mind...” She started then snapped her mouth shut when he fixed her with a chilly glare. She tried not to let that affect her as she straightened her shoulders and walked out the door. It was only when she strode down the corridor and retreated to the cool privacy of the bathroom that everything inside her collapsed.

She leaned against the closed stall door, choking back her abject disappointment. It’s not the end. You still have the clinic. And Emily would help her, as much as she loathed asking for money. She’d just have to swallow her pride and her tightly held beliefs and ask.

Yeah, she really was Charlene’s daughter, wasn’t she? Begging for money, expecting a handout. The only difference was she’d honor her debt, not do a runner in the middle of the night to avoid it.

The bitter irony of it all made her heart ache.

Six

Matt paced his office, swinging from outrage to indignation then back again. He paused at the wall, did an about turn then continued pacing.

Damn room was way too small. He scrubbed at his chin, then his cheek, before running a hand into his hair.

What the hell had just happened?

He was insulted. No, more than that—he was deeply offended. Did she really think he was that kind of guy? He snorted, hands on his hips. These past few days all made sense now: AJ’s initial coldness, then suddenly agreeing to his invitation. She wanted a convenient stud. Not him—just what he could give her.

His hands curled into fists as fury overcame him.

And yet...

He must be the worst kind of idiot, letting his need lead him around like a dog on a leash because he still wanted her. Un-fricking-believable.

He stopped and glared out the window, studying the slow ascent of a Qantas jumbo jet as it climbed into the sky. So she thought he was some kind of mindless workaholic man whore, did she? That he’d jump at her offer then happily walk away when she’d gotten what she wanted?

With a curse, he collapsed into his chair, the leather protesting under the sudden weight. AJ Reynolds was trouble. Not worth the stress. Hell, he could pick up the phone and choose from a handful of willing women for an uncomplicated lay. Since his divorce it was all he’d been prepared to give. GEM occupied his every waking moment; he’d deliberately made it that way so there’d be no room to dwell on the bitter disappointment of Katrina’s rejection.

Yet something stirred inside, reminding him of his deeply buried dreams.

Dragging a hand over his chin, he tapped one finger on his bottom lip.

“Why me?” he muttered, his gaze skimming the blue skyline until it latched on to another plane in the distance. Surely there were dozens of eager guys queuing up for the pleasure. Yet when he tried to picture AJ with another man, doing all those things they’d done, touching her, making love to her, something nasty and painful twisted in his gut.

No.

A firm knock startled him from his reverie and he turned to see a familiar figure in the doorway. “Matt? Got a minute?”

“Sure.” He straightened his shoulders and nodded.

“Really?” His head of security, James Decker, tipped his chin down and peered over the rims of his dark aviator sunglasses. “Because it looks like you’re thinking hard about something important.”

Matt sighed. “I’ve had an offer. And I’m not sure I should take it.”

Decker stepped inside the office, closing the door behind him. As always, he was dressed in black—muscle T-shirt, army pants, boots and gun belt. Matt often teased Deck about his militant vigilante look, and the head of security would always come back with, “At least I save your ass.” The black was for show, for his team to project power and confidence to the public. It often meant the difference between success and failure when faced with life-threatening situations.

“What’s the offer?” Decker asked, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“A woman, no relationship strings attached.”

Decker’s whistle came out low. “Lucky bastard. A hot woman?”