Brides, Babies And Billionaires. Rebecca Winters

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you counted the confident, charismatic male striding, head high, on the opposite side of the road. At twenty-six, she really ought to be able to control these sudden spikes in her pulse and these inexcusable urges to run to meet him.

      She went to the kerb, keeping track of him between passing vehicles. He stopped when he noticed her, his smile easily visible at this distance, and beckoned her to come across. Took her arm as she reached his side.

      ‘Hi, has anyone ever told you that you are remarkably punctual?’

      ‘For a woman?’ She tilted her head, and raised her eyebrows. Relished the pleasurable quiver in her stomach as he laughed.

      ‘For a human. The car’s not far.’

      He didn’t speak during the short walk, obviously preoccupied. Lauren was all too aware of his guiding touch on her arm. Warm and protective.

      The lights flashed to unlock his car but he didn’t open the door. He leant on it instead, placing his hands on her waist. He looked at the grass under their feet and exhaled.

      ‘When I said dinner, I meant takeaway or home delivery to the unit I’m renting. You and me. No phones, no demands from anyone. No distractions. I should have been explicit. If you’d prefer, there’s a local hotel with good food and friendly atmosphere.’

      His preference matched hers. No noisy chatter or waiters hovering to serve, clear dishes or top up glasses.

      ‘Do I get to choose what we pick up?’

      She hadn’t realised how tense he was until his shoulders dropped.

      ‘Food, wine and anything else you want.’ He moved aside, allowing her to get into the car. ‘You amaze me almost every day, Lauren Taylor.’

      * * *

      Lauren was the one surprised as she entered the modern single-storey town house not far from the city. He’d driven into the garage, led her through the door into a laundry and then along a hallway into one of the most sparsely furnished rooms she’d ever seen.

      There was a long soft leather lounge, a coffee table and a television on a wooden cupboard. No rugs, no cushions. No books, ornaments or pictures.

      She appreciated he was renting, and had been working long hours under extreme pressure, but...

      Matt’s eyes followed her astonished gaze, and for the first time he saw his home as it was. He’d bought the barest necessities, hadn’t been planning on long term or entertaining.

      He shrugged and gave a rueful grin.

      ‘Not exactly home beautiful, but I don’t spend a lot of time here.’

      ‘Are the other rooms the same?’

      Leaving the Thai food and bottle of white wine on the table, he held out his hand.

      ‘Guided tour included with the meal. Any constructive opinions welcome.’

      She didn’t say a word as he pushed open doors to reveal a desk and office chair in one room, suitcases and boxes in another, the bathroom, and finally the main bedroom.

      It contained bedside drawers and a rumpled king-sized bed, which dominated the space but he never slept well in anything smaller. Since moving in he’d crashed every night into deep, unbroken sleep, including a few times in the lounge. Except for the last two nights, and his restlessness was evident from the unmade bed.

      His senses were on super alert, tuned for her slightest reaction. He heard the faint intake of breath, saw her shoulders twitch and the convulsive movement in her throat.

      Berating himself for his insensitivity, he drew her away, and pulled the door shut behind them, praying she didn’t think he had an ulterior motive bringing her here. He couldn’t ignore the picture that had flashed into his head as he’d looked from his bed to Lauren, or its effect on his body.

      ‘I signed the lease in the morning, made the saleswoman’s day in the afternoon, and moved in two days later,’ he said, hoping to distract her as he took her to the kitchen area.

      ‘No dining setting?’

      ‘Not yet. The only person who visits is Alan, and we eat while we watch TV, usually the footy.’

      She winced and he remembered her outburst yesterday morning. She hadn’t exaggerated her dislike of sport. Tonight he was determined to find out why.

      ‘We’d better eat before the food goes cold. Plates are in the corner cupboard. I’ll bring the glasses and cutlery.’

      Clicking on the TV, he scrolled to the relaxing music channel, keeping the volume low. He sat, giving her space, and opened the Riesling, poured a glass and slid it in front of her.

      ‘Thank you. I’m guessing you like leftovers, from the amount of food you bought.’

      ‘It’ll taste as good tomorrow.’ He lifted his glass in salute. ‘To you, Lauren. You have my eternal gratitude for everything you achieved.’

      She tapped her glass to his. ‘Even with all the angst it’s going to cause you?’

      ‘Hard facts can be dealt with. The uncertainty is what fuels suspicion and creates tension. I’ll be guided by the professionals and handle any repercussions.’

      Lauren savoured the tang of the sweet and sour pork, and the mellow taste of the wine, but found the depth of the settee uncomfortable. It was built for taller people or for curling up on. A few thick cushions would solve the problem.

      She put her plate on the table, slid onto the floor, and folded her legs.

      ‘Can we pull this closer so I can lean against the sofa? I don’t have your long limbs.’

      He complied immediately. ‘I’m not rating too well, am I? I’m all set up for myself, didn’t expect to have visitors very often if at all.’

      Then why that huge bed, looking as if there’d been plenty of action there last night? Did he have similar expectations tonight?

      She choked on a piece of pineapple, took a soothing drink of wine, letting it glide down her throat. He’d said only Alan visited and she had no reason to dispute his word.

      ‘Are you all right?’

      No, but admitting it might start a conversation she wasn’t ready for, probably never would be.

      ‘I’m fine. This is delicious.’

      ‘Hmm.’ He relaxed, elbow on the leather arm, his legs stretched out with one ankle over the other. Looking as hassle-free as a newborn baby.

      Unlike her. Sitting down here might be easier on her spine but now he was only in her peripheral vision and other senses heightened. She became aware of muted sounds as he shifted or flexed muscle against the leather, and his ocean aroma teased her nostrils, overriding the piquant sauces of their meal. Occasionally his foot twitched.

      The companionable silence stretched, the music soothed. She picked up her glass and sipped, letting her mind drift to a gentle touch, a guiding hand.

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