LITMIR.BIZ

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returned to the road as the lights changed. “How did the meeting with Sandi finish up?”

      “Did you get the report?”

      “Not yet.”

      “Right.” She tipped her head as he pulled to a stop at the lights at George and Bathurst. “So you don’t know Dr. Adams said we should—mmmmph!”

      He cut her off with a rough kiss.

      It was unexpected but definitely not unwelcome. He just put a hand behind her neck and pulled her in, the move shockingly arrogant yet incredibly sexy.

      She’d missed him. Despite the stern talking to she’d given herself, she’d actually missed him.

      Or maybe she just missed this.

      When he palmed her cheek with his other hand, her breath stuttered.

      Yeah, that was it.

      Finally—regretfully, it seemed to her—Matt pulled back, gave her a lingering look then returned his attention to the lights. They changed a second later and he turned into Bathurst Street.

      “How are you feeling?”

      “Hot.”

      His mouth curved, teasing out the dimple. “I meant that as an inquiry into your general well-being.”

      “Oh. Still hot.” And excited. Aroused. Wanting to—

      “Has Sandi started you on hormone injections?”

      Someone blasted a car horn and Matt smoothly avoided a car braking in front of them. AJ nodded. “Yes.”

      “And I’m scheduled for some tests on Monday, correct?”

      “That’s right. And Matt...”

      “Yeah?” They turned right on Elizabeth, heading west.

      “She also said artificial insemination was our best option.” The brakes tamped for one jerky second before they pulled into the Liverpool Street merge lane. AJ forged on. “Given my low chances of conception, apparently it’s better to do this in a controlled environment. So there’s nothing left to chance.”

      “Of course.”

      Another moment passed. “Which means after insemination, we can’t have sex.”

      He pressed his lips together. “I know what it means.”

      They merged into the traffic and her heart began to pound. He wasn’t happy and she couldn’t blame him. But did that mean he’d go back on their deal?

      She huffed out a breath and turned to stare directly ahead. “Matt, I have to ask...does this change things for you?”

      “In what way?”

      “Well, it’s not exactly what you signed up for.”

      “You think I’d back out because we can’t have sex?”

      “I...don’t know.”

      He sighed, his disappointment clear in that small exhale. “The answer is no.” He shot her a look, then turned back to the traffic. “I gave my word, AJ. You can trust me.”

      “Okay.” She nodded, taking a few slow breaths while she waited for her heart to calm down.

      Silence spread until they stopped at another red light.

      “Do you have a passport?” he asked suddenly.

      She raised her brow. “No, why?”

      “How do you feel about Portugal?”

      “How do I...?” AJ frowned. “I don’t know. They speak Portuguese? They’re part of the European Union? Oh, and I’ve heard the Algarve Coast has a stunning coastline—”

      “I’m due to fly out to Faro next Saturday.” The lights changed to green, Matt eased into First and they turned left on College. “I’d like you to come with me.”

      What? “But I don’t have a passport.”

      “I know some people. I can get one for you in a few days.”

      Of course he knew people. That shouldn’t be a surprise. But what stunned her more was the fact that he was asking her to go with him.

      “Isn’t this a business trip?”

      “Yes. But I’m the boss, so I can do whatever I want.” His brief glance had her heart rate picking up most alarmingly. “You’ve never been overseas. So let me take you.”

      “But your work—”

      “—will be finished in a day or two, max.”

      AJ shook her head, jamming a lid on her swelling excitement. “I don’t want to interfere.”

      “You won’t be.” The traffic slowed and they crawled past Hyde Park. “The flight leaves at eight on Saturday morning. We refuel in Singapore, fly on to Rome, then land at Faro airport Sunday night. My meeting’s Monday afternoon, so we can fly back on Friday. Is five days enough?”

      Enough for what? “What are we going to do for five whole days?”

      “Oh, I’m sure we’ll think of something.”

      “Matt, I don’t think we should—”

      “This isn’t about...that.” She saw his jaw tighten almost imperceptibly as he kept his eyes on the road. “Look, if you don’t want to go, just say so.”

      “I do!” she blurted, then more calmly added, “I do. But...”

      “But what? You get to see another country, catch some sun, charge room service and relax by the pool. All good for your stress levels. Which, in turn, increases our chances of getting pregnant.”

      Our chances. Not your. AJ swallowed a small moan. Deliberate? Or a completely innocent slip?

      Think about it. Five whole days in his company, sharing meals, sightseeing and doing touristy things. Normal holiday couple things. Things she’d never pictured him doing, let alone with her. The Matthew Cooper she knew would never allow anything to interfere with his work schedule.

      Maybe he’s not the Matthew Cooper you remember.

      She gazed contemplatively out the windshield. No, that wasn’t right. Sure, he was no longer head of neurosurgery at Saint Catherine’s, but a man like Matt didn’t just turn off that blinding drive and determination to achieve. It made him who he was, and his company was tangible proof of that.

      “Five days—” She suddenly broke off to stare out the window. “Wait, are we going to the art gallery?”

      “Just wait and see.”

      “Matt. It’s kind of obvious. Unless...” They drove down Art Gallery Road, the expansive grassy Domain parkland on their left, the familiar columned majesty of the art gallery entrance on the right. “There’s nothing at the end of this road except Mrs. Macquarie’s Chair.” When she’d been a Sydney sider, she’d frequently enjoyed the stunning harbor views from that historic chair, which had been specifically carved from a rock ledge for Governor Macquarie’s wife.

      He found a vacant spot and smoothly pulled the car in. “You were right the first time.”

      “But it’s closing in—” She glanced at the clock on the dash. “Ten minutes.”

      “Not for us it isn’t.”

      He switched off the engine and turned to face her, sliding up his sunglasses. His expression was casually neutral, but she sensed something else in those dark, hooded eyes. A question? No, he was waiting for her. She could feel the expectancy heat the air, spreading gently as his gaze held hers.

      She hadn’t given him an answer to the Portugal thing.

      A small bubble of excitement rose inside

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