Pregnant by the Playboy Tycoon

‘When I come back, we’ll talk.’ She straightened. ‘I have to go now to beat the traffic. I’ll be careful, Daddy. I’ll be okay.’

‘I know you will, Annie.’

He sounded more convinced than she was herself, and she breathed a sigh of partial relief in his confidence and kissed his cheek. I love you hovered on her tongue, but somehow she couldn’t bring herself to say the words that had always come so easily.

He squeezed her arms, stepped back.

She picked up her handbag, then walked through the house, not allowing herself even a glimpse of the antique furniture and the porcelain art pieces in the formal lounge, the crystal chandelier gracing the entrance hall. Not even her mother’s straw gardening hat on the stand by the front door. Especially not her hat—one of the few items Anneliese hadn’t been able to remove when clearing out her mother’s things.

She climbed into her car, took a breath as she set the vehicle into motion, pressing the remote to open the gate as she followed the curved lawn-edged drive.

Could she really do this? All those kilometres. All by herself. She’d never had to be independent. But she’d wanted to be—needed to be—and she was starting right now. Her heart sat like a lead ball in her chest, but she tightened her grip on the steering wheel and focused on the view ahead.

That was when she saw the figure of a man in the middle of the driveway as the gates swung open. Her headlights caught the glint of dark hair, the outline of long muscled denim-clad legs, brown eyes…and that familiar black vest. He smiled and his teeth gleamed in the light’s beam as he bent down and swung a backpack over one shoulder.

Oh, no. Her breath catching, she hit the brakes. He set his hands on the bonnet of her car. Strong and tanned and big, and she had the weirdest sensation that Steve Anderson wasn’t putting those hands on the curves of her car so much as laying claim to her body.

CHAPTER TWO

STEVE had the passenger door open and was tossing his bag in the back before Anneliese could lower her window to tell him to get out of her way. Scooping her jacket and handbag off the seat before she could think about where the accelerator was, or remember to lock the passenger door.

‘Good morning, Anneliese.’ Grinning at her, he checked his watch. ‘Right on time. Two minutes past six. I like a woman who’s punctual.’

‘It’s Tuesday.’

He smelled of the wind, damp and male and she knew his jaw would feel cold and bristly against her palm if she slapped it right now as she wanted to. Or if she curled her fingers around it and simply felt.

When he didn’t reply, she gritted her teeth. ‘We were leaving on Wednesday.’

‘But you changed the schedule, I see.’ With that grin still in place, he hauled the seat belt over his shoulder. ‘Well, then, let’s get going—we want to beat the rush hour. Or are you waiting for me to drive?’

‘Oh, no. You are not getting your hands on this baby.’ She blew out a breath, super aware of the silence and his gaze on her, as if he were asking whether she was referring to her car or her person. Both, she thought, pressing the remote to close the gates behind her.

He didn’t speak again, which gave her time to get her brain into gear. And perhaps it was better this way. She wasn’t alone any more. Already her anxiety had slipped a notch. If he kept to his side of the car and didn’t talk to her in that sexy deep voice, she could handle it. If nothing else, Steve Anderson’s presence alone would divert her focus away from all she was leaving behind.

She told herself she was calm, calm, calm. But she accelerated, turning into the road with a screech of tyres on bitumen, and felt the sudden movement as he gripped his seat belt. ‘And no handy hints on how to drive.’

A few moments of silence prevailed. ‘Just an observation…’ he ventured. ‘We should’ve turned right at the last intersection if you want to get onto the interstate before lunch.’

And she realised the waver in his voice was more of a vibration. Of amusement. ‘Habit,’ she muttered, checking her rear-vision mirror and furious with herself for allowing him to make her forget. She turned off, then doubled back.

‘I imagine it is,’ he drawled. ‘All those exclusive Toorak Road boutiques just down the way.’ She felt his gaze slide over her lemon silk blouse and grey light wool trousers. There was probably a sneer somewhere in there, but it was hard to tell because she was so engrossed with the sound of his deep voice rumbling in his chest.

‘The way to my father’s consulting rooms,’ she corrected icily. ‘Where I work.’ And desperately switched the conversation to him. ‘I imagine this trip is seriously impinging on your social life.’

‘Not at all,’ he said comfortably.

Was he between relationships, then? Did he even do relationships, or were they all one-night stands? She felt her face heat and changed topics fast. ‘So you camped outside my house all night?’

‘Heck, no. But I had this gut feeling you might change your mind about the day and forget to call me. Weird, huh?’

Her cheeks heated further and she was grateful for the semidarkness. One hand crept to fiddle with the top button of her blouse, and she wished she could flick it undone to cool the sudden hike in air temperature.

Sweat sprang to her palms and she kept her eyes on the rear lights of the car in front. She could try turning down the car’s heating, but that would be like admitting he’d made her hot. Which wouldn’t have happened if she was alone.

‘Except you didn’t forget, did you?’ he continued in that rumbly voice. ‘You had no intention of calling me.’

‘I already told you, I don’t need a passenger. You could travel at your own speed and convenience. Fly like most business people. It’s not too late. I can—’

‘Maybe I don’t need a driving partner either.’ He cut her off, his tone sharp, all trace of humour gone. ‘Have you considered that maybe I only agreed to this because I want to put Cindy’s mind at rest, not to mention your father’s?’

Guilt stabbed at Anneliese. She’d been so caught up in her own problems she hadn’t given Cindy a thought.

They came to a snarl in the traffic and she slowed to a stop. ‘Okay,’ she conceded. ‘You’re right, I’m sorry. Perhaps you should call her. Tell her not to worry, big brother’s got everything under control.’

‘Too early yet. But I sent her a text before you opened the gate.’ The humour seemed to be back in his voice as he stretched his arms and rolled his shoulders.

She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel and steeled herself to look at him. ‘So sure of yourself, aren’t you?’

He nodded. ‘Pretty much. Whereas you…’ He turned to her. ‘You’re not—never have been. Your face is an open book. A very pretty book, but open nonetheless.’

His look was so potent, so knowing she wanted to shrivel up and die of embarrassment. Because he was right. Instead of the mask she usually retreated behind, anger bubbled up and she stared right back. ‘Maybe I wanted you to read the message that said: I don’t want you with me.’

‘True,’ he said slowly. ‘But then I’d have to ask myself why that is.’ His gaze dipped to her mouth, a glide of sensation as if his fingers were tracing the outline and texture.

A tingle danced down her spine. How would his fingers feel against her lips? Warm or cool? Light and gentle or rough and sure? Would they feel the same on other parts of her body? No. She tipped up her chin. ‘Let me fill you in on why. You’re arrogant and intimidating and…earthy.’

Oh, Lord, had she really voiced that last thought aloud? The corner of his mouth twitched. Yep, she’d said it.

‘Not the suave and sophisticated type you’re used to, Anneliese?’

‘That’s not what I meant.’ She refused to think about the earthy dream she’d had last night involving heat and hands and lots of body lotion. And Steve… ‘I don’t want company because I have a personal and private matter to take care of,’ she snapped, flushed and furious that they were having this conversation but unable to look away. It was as if he held her gaze with some sort of magnetic force.

‘I’m only your travelling companion,’ he said without taking his eyes off her. ‘Traffic’s moving.’

‘I’m aware of that.’ Jolting out of her semi-trance state, Anneliese returned her attention to the road. From the corner of her eye she saw him settle back in his seat as she inched the car forward again and said, ‘I don’t need your conversation taking my focus away from my driving.’ She didn’t need his conversation, period. The road cleared and she planted her foot on the accelerator.

‘By all means, focus away.’ He crossed his arms. ‘And we’re not trying to break any world speed records here. You might want to ease your dad’s worry and let him know I’m along for the ride.’

Who was he to remind her of her responsibilities? Anneliese took a deep breath. Counted to three, let it out slowly, then said, ‘I intend to, as soon as we stop. Have you forgotten it’s dangerous, not to mention illegal, to use the phone while behind the wheel?’

‘No. Speaking of dangerous and illegal…do you always travel at this speed?’

‘When I’m under pressure, yes.’

And no doubt Daddy paid her fines as well. Barely turning his head, Steve studied her covertly. What he was imagining doing to her right now was definitely dangerous, and no doubt illegal, too. But those neat little buttons on her prim little blouse begged to be popped. All the way to her navel. And when he’d eased down her bra and finished exploring her delectable body, he’d just bet that navel was as neat and prim as the rest of her…

He closed his eyes. Quit now. She’s just your travelling companion.