Expecting His Child. Tessa Radley

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 her. An actual trip overseas! She’d finally get to see another country, another culture, experience the sights, the smells, the tastes. She’d have a chance to observe color and movement, to stretch her drawing skills.

      How could she pass this up?

      She nodded, biting down on her lip to stop a goofy grin from forming. “Okay. I’ll go.”

      His expression transformed for a brief second, his smile widening as he pulled the keys from the ignition. “Good.”

      She hadn’t missed that look: a flash of elation before he’d glanced away. He was happy she’d said yes, and boy, that thrilled her way more than it should.

      She swung her door open. “So are you going to tell me why we’re here?”

      He shook his head and reached into the back of the car. “First, you’ll need these.”

      Odd. With a curious smile, she opened the paper bag he offered, then stuck her hand in.

      She gasped, slowly pulling out a thick, A5-sized leather-bound journal, then a set of Derwent sketch pencils, followed by a box of top-quality HB leads.

      “Matt,” she breathed, taking in the wonderful smell of new paper and wood before refocusing on him. “You don’t have to buy me stuff.”

      He shrugged but AJ could see the satisfaction in his smile. “There’s more.”

      “What?”

      “I’ll show you.”

      * * *

      AJ stood in front of Van Gogh’s famous Sunflowers painting and let the beauty of the moment wash over her in stunned silence.

      A private showing. For her. That was just... He was...

      For the first time in her life, someone actually got her.

      It was way too much.

      She quickly blinked away a sudden well of tears, then took a deep breath while her heart kept on pounding.

      “The Starry Night,” she said softly, staring at the gorgeous swirl of blue night sky scattered with yellow stars. “Oh, the self-portrait. Irises. Oh, wow, that’s Café Terrace at Night!” She gave a small clap and surged forward until she was standing right in front of the painting, taking in the bold strokes and rainbow colors.

      “I have a poster of this on my bedroom wall at home. This is amazing. How did you manage to pull this off?”

      He shrugged. “I know people.”

      “Well, thank you so much.”

      “You’re welcome.”

      She knew she was grinning like a crazy woman but she couldn’t help it. Joy welled up, overwhelming her, propelling her forward.

      A second later she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him.

      His arms automatically went around her, pulling her deep into his warmth, and when she eased back, the kiss was inevitable. A breathless, hot kiss that AJ wasn’t sure she’d initiated. Either way, she welcomed it, welcomed his mouth, his hands, his chest pressed up against hers. And when he finally broke away with a soft groan, her disappointment echoed his.

      “Take your time,” he said thickly, taking a step back and shoving his hands in his pockets. “We have two hours.”

      She nodded, unable to speak, then quickly turned to the journal she’d left on the leather lounge. She fumbled with the pencil box, but she finally managed to get one out. He’d not only bought her art supplies, but he’d also had the freaking art gallery open just for her.

      Whoa, hold on a second. She suddenly panicked.

      This was just Matt being thoughtful. She’d mentioned it days ago and he’d remembered. That was all. Yet she still couldn’t stop a thread of delight spreading through her belly. Something that felt this good couldn’t possibly be bad, right?

      Right.

      She pressed her lips together and opened the journal, smoothed out the unlined pristine page and switched her focus to the amazing art before her.

      * * *

      The next few days passed in a blur, and by the time Saturday rolled around again, AJ felt like she was about to explode from the anticipation.

      After the art gallery, they’d eaten a late dinner at the Quay, then he’d dropped her off at Zac’s apartment. His gentle good-night kiss seared her lips, and she’d practically floated to the top floor.

      The routine was set for the next few days: Matt would call in the morning to let her know what time he’d be by, then when the time rolled around, he’d pick her up and they’d go out to dinner. AJ asked about his travels and his job, listening with single-minded attention, determined not to stare at his mouth, those expressive hands. A couple of times she must’ve lapsed because he’d suddenly stop midsentence and give her such a heated look that it made her skin go all prickly.

      The first few days they’d been the picture of restraint. He’d taken her back to Zac’s apartment, kissed her on the cheek and left. But after the third night, his patience had obviously worn thin. She’d turned to say good-night and found herself caught up in a rush of lips, eager fingers and panting breath. When Matt finally stepped back with a groan, his frustrated expression echoed her own.

      “A suggestion, not an unbreakable rule,” AJ muttered in the cool silence now, staring at the shadowed bedroom ceiling. Dr. Adams had confirmed it today. She was due for her first procedure in two weeks’ time and a lapse beforehand certainly wouldn’t ruin her chances.

      So what was the problem?

      With a grunt, she rolled over on her side and punched the pillow.

      She liked spending time with him. Liked holding his hand. Liked ending the evening with a kiss that left her wanting more. This time, their relationship wasn’t just about sex, even if the desperate need for it was killing her.

      And he hadn’t pushed.

      Now here she was, about to spend a week with him, and suddenly all she could think about was his slow smile as he pushed her hair behind one ear. His warm mouth as he kissed her.

      “Damn it!” She groaned and pressed her thighs together.

      Five days. It’d probably kill her. And after her first procedure, her opportunities to make love would be zero.

      She sighed. She’d drawn a line and unless she crossed it herself, she was pretty sure Matt wouldn’t.

      It was up to