Executive Mother-To-Be Read online

  She’d appeared deliciously rumpled and flustered when he’d picked up her coat, and nothing like the ice-cool blonde who’d locked gazes with him a minute before with her big, sad eyes and grim expression.

  He’d watched her for a while, toying with her drink, stabbing at the lemon wedge, her mouth muttering words he couldn’t hear. He would’ve laughed if her expression hadn’t been so fragile, and, though he’d had his own problems to deal with, he’d been unable to walk past her without reaching out and giving her some indication that she wasn’t alone in the world, some indication that he understood.

  Boy, did he understand.

  People said grief eased with time, that time healed all wounds.

  People didn’t know jack.

  ‘You know, dessert is optional. You don’t have to try it if you don’t want.’

  Hating the realisation that his mask had slipped for a moment, and she must have glimpsed some of what he was feeling, he said, ‘Sorry, just thinking.’

  ‘About something not very pleasant, by the looks of it?’

  The question hung between them, softly probing but intrusive nonetheless.

  ‘Guess being away from home has me in a mood.’

  ‘Being homesick is the pits,’ she said, replacing her serviette on the table and sitting back. ‘I missed Sydney like crazy when I first came here, but you want to know the secret to getting past it?’

  ‘Sure.’

  Leaning forward, she tapped the side of her nose as if about to depart a secret lost in time. ‘Orang-utans.’

  Maybe the jet lag was worse than he’d thought. He could’ve sworn she’d just said something about homesickness being cured by great apes.

  She nodded, a smile playing about her mouth. ‘You heard me. Orang-utans. The biggest, goofiest guys on the planet. You can’t help but love them. I was feeling pretty lousy my first week here, so I took a trip to the Singapore Zoo and spent an hour with the hairy goofballs, having breakfast with them, laughing at their antics. Suddenly, no more homesickness. Instant cure, just like that.’

  She snapped her fingers and he blinked, wondering what it was about this cool yet kooky woman that had him so captivated.

  ‘I’ll keep that in mind,’ he said, shaking his head in disbelief, torn between wanting to bolt from the table before she enthralled him any further and hauling her into his arms to see if she was real.

  She flitted between serious and funny, sad and happy, changing emotions like the frenetic activity of the stock market on opening.

  He hardly knew a thing about her, yet he wanted to know it all.

  He didn’t know her surname yet he knew she loved seafood, had a brain behind her beauty, and had a thing for big, orange apes.

  They had little in common, yet he suddenly knew he didn’t want this evening to end.

  He wanted to know more, he wanted her with a staggering fierceness that clawed at him, begging to be let out and soothed by her touch, in her arms, all night.

  ‘Uh-oh, you’re having more of those unpleasant thoughts.’

  She picked up the wine bottle and topped up his glass, as if a fine Shiraz would fix what ailed him. If it were that easy, he would’ve bought out every vineyard in Australia by now.

  Direct to the point of bluntness in business, he took a deep breath, opting for the same approach now and hoping it didn’t earn him a thundering slap.

  ‘Actually, my thoughts aren’t so unpleasant.’

  ‘Oh?’

  Her eyebrow kicked up, highlighting the curious glint in her blue eyes.

  ‘I know this is going to sound crazy, and you have every right to walk away from this table when I’ve finished, but I was just thinking how we have a connection and I don’t want this evening to end.’

  Surprise flashed across her face, closely followed by—indignation?

  Fear?

  Hope?

  He had no idea. It had been a long time since he’d spent this much time with a woman, let alone tried to fathom her emotions.

  ‘Are you asking me to spend the night with you?’

  Put like that, he tried not to cringe. It looked like he wasn’t the only one who favoured the direct approach.

  ‘I don’t know what I’m asking,’ he muttered, eyeing the door and wondering if it was too late to make a run for it. ‘I don’t do this very often. Hell, I haven’t been out with a woman for years. But I know one thing—I’m attracted to you. You make me feel good. And I don’t want to lose this feeling, no matter how temporary.’

  Suddenly, it was as simple as that. No more, no less.

  This stunning woman with her expressive eyes and lush mouth had him feeling good for the first time in a long time, and he wanted more.

  ‘I think you do know what you’re asking,’ she said, her gaze locked on his, her smile uncertain as she toyed with the end of the tablecloth, twisting the damask over and over. ‘I think we both do, and my answer is yes.’

  ‘Yes?’

  He exhaled, unaware he’d been holding his breath, filled with elation and anticipation and myriad emotions he couldn’t describe as she stared at him with excitement glittering in her expressive eyes.

  ‘Yes.’

  From that moment everything faded into oblivion as he stood up, held out his hand, experienced an electrifying jolt as she placed hers in it, and led her from the restaurant to the lifts leading up to his room.

  They didn’t speak.

  They didn’t need to.

  Words seemed superfluous as they entered his room, closed the door and fell into each other’s arms like two drowning people hanging onto the last lifebuoy: desperate, frantic, caught up in a storm bigger than the both of them.

  As her lips clung to his and he deepened the kiss, his arms sliding around her waist to mould her to him, a thrill shot through him.

  He’d never done anything so rash, so reckless, so damn impulsive, and it felt good.

  It felt great.

  Thanks to the beautiful woman in his arms, he suddenly realised it was time to start living again.

  CHAPTER TWO

  KRISTEN never did anything on impulse.

  She’d never understood the rash decisions people made on the spur of the moment and then lamented later. She was a thinker who weighed up options carefully for everything, from buying a pair of killer black stilettos to hiring the best grip boy.

  Yet here she was lying next to the sexiest guy she’d ever met after having amazing sex. Twice!

  Logical? No.

  Well thought out? Uh-uh.

  Satisfying, cataclysmic and exciting? Oh yeah!

  Wriggling under the cotton sheet covering them, she stretched, tensing every muscle from her toes to her fingers, before relaxing, savouring the warm, sated sensation creeping through her tired body.

  To say she’d never felt like this before would be the understatement of the year.

  Risking a quick glance at him, she smiled, lost in delicious memories of how he’d kissed her, held her and made love to her with every inch of his body, and corny as it might sound, she knew it had been more than a physical connection.

  Quite simply, they’d clicked.

  For whatever reason—whether it had been his underlying vulnerability, his innate sadness or the fact he was a refined, well-mannered, genuinely nice guy—she’d thrown caution to the wind and made love with a virtual stranger.

  She should be mortified, or cringing with embarrassment at the very least. Instead, she rolled onto her side and watched him sleep, filled with a calmness she’d never known.

  With his lips relaxed into a half smile, and his long, dark eyelashes fanning his cheeks, he looked a lot younger than when he’d been awake and carrying around the inherent sadness like a backpack weighing him down.

  What would make a successful, wealthy guy who looked like he could model underwear on billboards around the world so sad?

  Guys his age with money to burn were usually chasing women, striving for the next big thing, and wh
ooping it up in general—not necessarily in that order. She should know; she mixed in those circles and held those players at arm’s length constantly.

  Yet here was a guy who probably moved in that social sphere wearing his sadness like a badge of honour. He appeared to be a loner, not that she really knew anything beyond the basics about him. Heck, she didn’t even know his surname!

  However, there was something about him…She hadn’t conjured up their connection out of thin air. It was there, it was real, and for the last few hours everything else had faded into the background while she’d linked up with a kindred spirit.

  Weird, whacky, but true. No one would believe her, but then who would she tell?

  ‘You’re awake.’

  Blinking away her memories she focussed on Nate, smiling at his heavy-lidded, half-asleep expression.

  ‘Can’t sleep. Guess I’m not used to sharing my bed.’

  Ain’t that the truth!

  Not that it bothered her. She valued her independence, and hated having to fight over the duvet with a guy hogging half the bed.

  ‘Whose bed?’

  He smiled, his tone, soft and husky, washing over her like a warm spring shower and making her want to throw her arms wide and dance from the sheer beauty of it.

  ‘Good point. Make that your bed,’ she said, wondering how this could feel so right.

  She’d expected a tense, awkward conversation on waking, perhaps the odd excuse or two. Instead they lay there, grinning at each other like a couple of goofy teenagers, barely inches apart, buck naked.

  ‘You’re okay with all this, right?’

  His smile waned as the light in his eyes faded.

  Uh-oh, here goes the whole ‘this was a mistake, see you around’ chat.

  She nodded, making sure her smile didn’t slip. ‘Of course. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be. We’re two consenting adults, we made a decision to spend the night together. No big deal.’

  Then why the empty ring to her words? Or the hollow feeling in her heart, when she had no right to feel anything other than physical attraction for this guy?

  ‘You’re right,’ he said, dropping his gaze to her hand bunching the sheet, and she relaxed with effort.

  He might have just agreed with her mature, rational assessment of a rather awkward situation, but the guilty expression ripping across his face said otherwise.

  She could’ve reached out to him, prompted him to tell her what was wrong, but she didn’t have the right. In fact, apart from sharing one fabulous night of scintillating sex and an unexpected connection, she didn’t even know him, at least not enough for him to share confidences with her.

  Still wanting to ease the sadness now mingling with the guilt on his expressive face, she said, ‘Look, I don’t usually do this sort of thing, and by your reaction I’m guessing it’s the same for you.’

  He raised his gaze slowly upwards, remorse darkening his eyes to almost black. ‘I never do this sort of thing. Why, does it show?’

  Great, now he thought she’d insulted his prowess!

  Reaching out to him, she covered his hand with hers, hoping the simple physical contact would convey half of what she was feeling.

  ‘Last night was fabulous. I just meant that dealing with all this aftermath stuff is kind of icky.’

  ‘Icky, huh?’

  His lips twitched, and she silently congratulated herself for bringing a smile back to his face.

  Returning his smile, she said, ‘I guess what I’m trying to say is you’ve got nothing to feel bad about. We both wanted to be with each other last night, let’s leave it at that.’

  His smile flickered as something akin to shame flashed in his eyes, and she knew she’d somehow said the wrong thing again.

  ‘You’re an incredible woman, Kris. Thank you for last night.’

  He reached out and cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing her bottom lip in the slowest, most tender, barely-there movement before letting go, leaving her wanting more, craving his touch when she hardly knew it.

  This wasn’t good.

  She was neither drunk nor stupid, so lying here lost in useless wishes of ‘what may be’ was pointless.

  Nate had a plane to catch and a life to get back to, she had a new job in Australia to look forward to.

  Time to start looking to the future, and chalk up this incredible encounter to a fate she didn’t believe in.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, brushing a hasty kiss across his lips before slipping out of bed, clutching the bottom sheet around her. ‘You have a plane to catch in a few hours, so I’ll leave you to it.’

  ‘Kris?’

  She paused, wishing she could skip the farewell and fast-forward to when she’d be back on solid ground, away from the seductive powers of a virtual stranger in an exotic place, caught up in the type of magical romance she knew didn’t exist in the real world.

  ‘Yes?’

  Nate stared at her, his dark, intense gaze trying to send her a message she couldn’t fathom. Once again his sad mask had slipped into place, and for a split second she wondered if their impending goodbye had anything to do with it.

  Yeah, like he’d be heartbroken over a woman he barely knew.

  ‘I wish things were different.’

  For one heart-stopping moment, she felt the same zing, the same spark she’d felt back in the bar when they’d first met, the same tenuous connection that this was right, was meant to be, and she almost ran back to the bed and flung herself into his arms.

  But that wasn’t the sensible thing to do, and right now logic was about all she had left.

  ‘I do too,’ she finally said, opting for honesty, yet knowing it wouldn’t make a difference as she slipped into the bathroom to get dressed and head back to her well-organised life and out of his.

  CHAPTER THREE

  KRIS strode up to the shiny chrome desk of Channel RX, feeling every bit the new kid on the block and hating it. No matter how confident she was, or how carefully she chose her clothes, she always felt the same terrifying insecurity she’d felt every time she’d started a new school or been introduced to a new foster family. And that had been way too many times for her liking.

  Pasting her sparkly toothpaste-smile on, she leaned on the desk and fixed the young receptionist with a confident stare. ‘Hi, I’m Kristen Lewis, the new executive producer.’

  The receptionist, a young version of Julia Roberts, held up her hand as she fielded what looked like five calls at once as the switchboard lit up, and Kristen relaxed, feeling at home straight away.

  At least this wasn’t any different. She could walk into any television studio around the world and find the same harried receptionist, the same flood of incoming calls from irate or scandalised viewers, and a buzz out on the studio floor you just couldn’t beat.

  She loved working in television: the drama, the rush, the constant push to be better and strive higher than the competition. She was good at what she did, which was why she’d been lucky enough to land this plum job at Melbourne’s premier station.

  She couldn’t wait to take up the challenge, something new to take her mind off Singapore, and that fateful night she couldn’t forget no matter how hard she tried.

  ‘Right, sorry about that. I’m Hallie, general dogsbody around this place. Would you like to head on through, or shall I call the boss and let him know you’re here?’

  ‘I’ll find my own way, thanks. Give me a chance to look around.’

  Hallie sent her a relieved smile as she cast a frantic look at the switchboard which had lit up like a Christmas tree again. ‘No worries. If you need anything, holler.’

  Kristen waved and headed for the imposing black swing doors.

  This was it.

  The start of a new job, life in a new city without the complications of memories of a guy with unforgettable dark-chocolate eyes.

  ‘Kristen?’

  She stopped and swivelled to face Hallie. ‘Yes?’

  ‘The boss man just
buzzed through to ask if you’d arrived. He wants to see you in his office asap. Through the doors, down the corridor on your left, last office on the right.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Kristen pushed through the doors and into the swankiest studio she’d ever seen. Polished floorboards lined the endless corridors stretching left and right, with countless doors off each one, while straight ahead lay a huge auditorium-like space enclosed in glass with a small army swarming around a mock-kitchen set.

  No one stopped to stare at the new girl, not even to give the odd curious glance. She knew what it was like. Once the cameras were set to roll it was heads down, bottoms up, as everyone performed their roles to perfection. The cameras didn’t lie, and the slightest mistake could cost a whole take or, worse, be aired live to an unforgiving audience.

  A tingle raised the hackles on her skin, and she shivered. Damn, she loved her job.

  Feeling more confident with every passing second, she headed off down the left corridor as instructed, resisting the urge to peek into every office. Many doors were wide open, the hum of voices and the smell of brewed coffee heavy in the air, and she hoped her new boss would offer her a cup. She’d kill for a caffeine hit right now, what with the move to Melbourne on top of her recent sleepless nights—courtesy of Mr Handsome, who she really hoped would turn into Mr Forgettable any time now.

  She knew nothing about her new boss. After having been headhunted by a producer here at RX, she’d barely had time to study the channel’s prospectus as she’d rushed around like a maniac, wrapping up her work and life in Singapore, let alone learn who the head honcho was.

  Thankfully, she rarely dealt with the CEOs of outfits like this: slick, go-get-’em types who were focussed on the bottom line and little else. She’d much rather concentrate on the enjoyable task of creating great TV than counting the behind-the-scenes wheeling and dealing.

  Reaching the final door on the right, she pulled up short.

  ‘Nathan Boyd, CEO’.

  She blinked, hating the irrational surge of heat the name Nathan sent through her.

  Damn it, she should be over this, over him.