LITMIR.BIZ

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most prominent historical church. “Then my private cruiser on Sydney Harbour for the reception. How does August the first suit you?”

      “That’s less than…” she calculated in the pause, “two months away. Why the rush?”

      “You have a problem with that?” He eyed her stomach, then nodded. “You’ll be five months pregnant, obviously showing…”

      “That’s not the point,” she said tightly. “Aren’t there waiting lists?”

      “Probably.” He quirked up an eyebrow. “I can organize a wedding planner.”

      That threw her. “No! Okay, August the first it is,” she finished lamely. “So, getting back to tonight. Tell me more about your parents.”

      He let her change direction without comment. “My mother, Isabelle, lived in the Hunter Valley. She met Victor when I was eleven and they married a year later.”

      “You have a brother,” she said.

      “Stepbrother. Zac.” With all traces of amusement gone, he felt the sudden need for distance. He rose, went to the railing, then turned to face her, his back against the cold metal. “He’s three years younger than me and Victor’s real son.”

      She smiled tentatively. “I’m sure your stepfather thinks you’re just as—”

      “Don’t.”

      Her smile slowly faded. “I’m just trying to—”

      “You don’t read the tabloids, do you?”

      Mutely she shook her head.

      “Zac left VP Tech a few years back,” he said less harshly. “From what I hear he started up his own company on the Gold Coast.”

       I stayed. I remained loyal. And yet Victor still insists on playing this stupid game with the future of the company.

      “Have you spoken to him?”

      “What?” He shook his head, trying to dislodge the remnants of bitterness.

      “Have you spoken to Zac since he left?” She studied him way too closely, a thread of concern in her bright blue eyes. “You’re brothers. Don’t you—”

      “No. We need to get going if we’re to make our reservation,” he said gruffly, glancing away with an odd sense of guilt.

      Ava hesitated for a brief second as he held out his hand. When she finally took it and he gently pulled her to her feet, she sucked in a breath. There it was again—the jolt of heat, the quickening of her heartbeat, the low ache of desire in her belly. When she instinctively placed a hand on her stomach, his eyes followed.

      “Can you…feel anything?”

      The sudden flash of wonder in his face was a low, primeval blow, leaving her breathless. What she felt had nothing yet everything to do with the life growing inside her. Her body was changing, growing, and hot, dark need throbbed through her veins. Her skin itched to be touched, to be kissed. By this man.

      And there was no way she’d admit that, not when it’d taken all the control she possessed to recover from that near kiss.

      “Just a few…flutters,” she managed. “It’s normal in the first trimester.”

      “Do you need anything?”

      You. “No.”

      Ava swallowed thickly as he placed a hand on her back, guiding her into the apartment. Great. Just great. How on earth was she going to survive another thirty-one weeks of this?

      “Do you have a special diet?”

      She closed her eyes briefly as the warm brand of his palm seared through her thin dress. “No caffeine or shellfish. Lots of greens, water. And sleep. I’ve been spending a lot of time in bed…”

      She glanced up, caught his flash of amusement and felt her skin prickle hotly.

      Get a grip, Ava! It was just…biological. Hormonal. He was a great-looking guy and her body instinctively responded to that. That’s all.

      When she reached to grab her wrap draped across the back of his leather couch, she noticed a small velvet box perched on top. Her eyes flew to his.

      “To add reality to our newly engaged bliss,” he explained, plucking the box from her fingers and flicking it open.

      Despite herself, she gasped. There, nestled on a bed of black velvet, was the most gorgeous ring she’d ever seen. It was stunning in its simplicity: a claw-set single teardrop diamond, the gold band studded with tiny emeralds. It must be worth thousands…or more. She hesitated, almost afraid to touch it, until Cal eased the ring from its nest and held it out.

      “It’s beautiful,” she sighed.

      “I know.” She glanced up, only to lose herself in the dark drug of his unfathomable eyes. Quickly she refocused on the ring, willing her hand not to shake as he slid it over her knuckle. It sat there, winking at her, teasing with its carat-laden sparkle.

      “A little loose,” he murmured, still holding her fingertips as he ran his thumb over the band. Shivers tripped down her skin and she gently eased away.

      “Not for long.” At his questioning look, she added, “Weight gain.”

      “Ahh.”

      When his mouth tilted, the overwhelming need to kiss him stunned her. It shouldn’t be. But there it was.

      Her whole body tingled with awareness, making her skin burn from the inside. She’d read about pregnancy hormones heightening a woman’s sexual appetite, had laughingly listened to the explicit stories her married girlfriends had revealed. But were those hormones supposed to be this intense? Like she had a sudden need to rip off her clothes and demand he ravish her on the floor?

      She wanted him. Craved him, even. Like she was a chocolate addict, and one taste just hadn’t been enough.

      A groan rattled in her throat. She couldn’t give in to a moment of weakness, no matter how amazing it promised to be. Sleeping with a man who thought her capable of blackmail would leave a deep and lasting scar, and she’d had enough of those to last a lifetime.

      With supreme control she took one step back, away from the warm intimacy that had enveloped them as they stood almost touching. She drew her wrap around her, wishing it were solid armour.

      “Shall we go?”

      A shutter fell over his face, his nod cool and curt. And just like that, the moment was broken. But damn, a part of her wished it hadn’t, wished she possessed the world-liness, the detachment to make the first move and bring relief to her growing need.

      But as Cal coolly guided her out the door, she’d have to instead focus on the night ahead, and put all her energies into getting through it.

      Chapter Four

      Determined to follow Cal’s lead and ignore the whispered glances that accompanied their journey through Tetsuya’s, Ava lifted her chin and kept walking, fully aware of his warm, possessive hand on the small of her back guiding her forward. Then they were inside the private dining room and the door was closed with a discreet click.

      She got a glimpse of the interior—sparsely elegant, with delicious aromas coming from the warming station at the far end—before Cal looped an arm around her waist. It was an intimate brand of ownership, one that did nothing to quash the butterflies in her stomach, and she itched to squirm away. But then he was saying, “Ava. I’d like you to meet my mother, Isabelle,” and her fate was sealed.

      A deep breath calmed her panic, leaving behind nervous anticipation. Isabelle Prescott had to be in her fifties at least, but moved with the grace and charm of someone decades younger. Outwardly, she looked perfect, from the hem of her elegant black knee-length shift dress to the top of her

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