The Pregnancy Proposal. HELEN BIANCHIN

where lust formed a large part of its foundation.

      Now, two years down the track, they shared his luxurious apartment in one of Brisbane’s prestigious inner suburbs overlooking the river.

      Life was good. Better than good. They devoted a lot of time to their individual careers, and each other, socialising on occasion. There was an apartment on the Gold Coast, less than an hour’s drive south, where they frequently escaped for the weekend. Sun, sand and relaxation, it provided a different lifestyle to the one they each led through the week.

      At no time had marriage been mentioned.

      Tasha didn’t want it mentioned, unless it was for the right reason…love. The everlasting, ever-after kind.

      The beep from her pager was an intrusive sound, and she reached for it, read the message to call her office, and retrieved her cell-phone.

      Minutes later she fired the ignition, eased her BMW out from the medical centre car park and gained the arterial road leading into the city.

      It was a glorious day, the sky a clear azure with the merest drift of cloud. Lush green lawns, late-spring flowers provided colour and there was the promise of summer in the sun’s warmth.

      Brisbane’s city-scape loomed in the distance. Splendid architecture in varying office towers and apartment high-rises of concrete, glass and steel. The wide river was a focal scenic point, together with a university, arts centre and the bustling Southbank with its many attractions.

      Within minutes Tasha turned into a private key-operated inner-city car park, then drove to her allotted space and took the lift to the fifteenth floor.

      The receptionist manning the front desk resembled a model from Vogue magazine. An admirable reflection of the head partner’s dictum professional image was everything. Amanda certainly aided that, and then some.

      ‘Your two-thirty appointment is delayed; you have messages on your desk.’

      ‘Thanks.’ Tasha summoned a smile in acknowledgement as she passed through Reception en route to her office.

      Work proved a necessary distraction, and she checked her appointment schedule, ensured her secretary had the requisite paperwork ready for perusal, and gave instructions for three follow-up calls.

      Two client consultations and a late-afternoon meeting brought the working day to a close. Something she viewed with relief, for her powers of concentration seemed to have zoomed off to another planet.

      There had been moments when she was totally focused, others when a coloured illustration of a tiny foetus from the pages of the doctor’s medical book proved a haunting intrusion.

      So tiny, so alive.

      For a moment she stood perfectly still, consumed by a fierce protectiveness that drove out rational thought.

      Then she extracted her briefcase and slid in printouts with various notations she needed to examine in preparation for a meeting tomorrow, collected her laptop, walked out to the foyer and took a lift down to the car park.

      The best thing to be said about peak-hour traffic was that it moved… This evening, the speedometer didn’t register a notch over ten kilometres an hour through the inner city.

      Her cell-phone beeped, signalling an incoming text message, and she activated it while she sat waiting for the lights to change.

      Jared… Delayed an hour.

      Tasha wasn’t sure whether to be peeved or relieved. While there was a part of her that wanted to get Jared’s reaction out of the way, there was also a certain reluctance.

      Neither of which made much sense, she determined as she garaged her car and rode the lift to their apartment.

      Situated on a high floor, it was one of two sub-penthouses in a prestigious apartment block on the river with splendid views of the city.

      Spacious with cream marble-tiled floors, large expanses of floor-to-ceiling tinted glass, there were oriental rugs, modern furniture in cream and beige, with splashes of colour provided by modern works of art adorning the walls.

      The lounge and dining-room were large, the kitchen and utilities modern, and the master suite was a dream with its large bed and adjoining bathroom. Of the three remaining bedrooms, Jared had converted one into a legal reference library with a desk, computer and electronic equipment for his own use. Another room held a day bed, and a desk which Tasha could use for her own needs. The third bedroom was a guest suite.

      Tasha crossed into the kitchen, extracted a bottle of juice from the refrigerator and poured some into a glass, drank some, then she sliced cheese onto a biscuit and ate it.

      Over the past week or two she had seemed inclined to want to nibble food at frequent intervals. Another symptom of pregnancy?

      She’d have to buy a book and study it, she perceived as she walked through to the master suite.

      Choosing what to wear didn’t pose too much of a problem, and she tossed an elegant black evening suit onto the bed, then made for the shower.

      It was a while before she emerged and, dry, a towel wound round her slender form, she began style-drying her hair. Dark sable, it tumbled in wavy curls down onto her shoulders.

      Next came make-up, and she chose subtle shadings to highlight her gold-flecked dark brown eyes, then she donned fresh underwear and entered the bedroom.

      Dressed, she slid her feet into black stiletto pumps which added four inches to her petite frame.

      Selecting jewellery, she was in the process of fastening a pendant at her nape when Jared walked into the room.

      Her gaze met his, and her stomach fluttered at the warmth evident in those dark grey, almost black eyes.

      His jacket was hooked over one shoulder, he’d loosened his tie and he’d undone the top button of his shirt and removed his cufflinks.

      He bore the faint shadow of a man who needed to shave twice a day, and it lent him a slightly dangerous air.

      Lethal, she amended as she felt her body stir in recognition of her attraction to him.

      Passion, even in its mildest form, had the ability to liquefy her bones. All he had to do was look at her, and she was lost.

      His mouth curved into a musing smile as he crossed to her side.

      ‘Let me fix that for you.’

      He was close, much too close. She felt her body quiver as his fingers brushed her skin, and she was conscious of every breath she took, the heightened sensuality as she caught the faint aroma of his cologne, the male heat that was uniquely his.

      Tasha felt his hands shift to her shoulders, the brush of his mouth against the sensitive curve at the edge of her neck.

      ‘Beautiful.’

      She caught the slight huskiness in his voice, and deliberately stepped away. ‘If you don’t shower and change we’re going to be late.’

      There was a moment’s silence, then he shifted and turned her round to face him. ‘Bad day?’

      The query was softly voiced, and she met his narrowed gaze with equanimity.

      ‘Something like that.’

      ‘Want to talk about it?’

      Tasha shook her head. ‘We don’t have time.’

      Jared caught hold of her chin between thumb and forefinger, and tilted it. ‘We can make time.’

      No, they couldn’t. This was going to take a while if she was going to do it right. And there shouldn’t be any distractions or time restriction.

      She knew if she said the word, he would delay their departure for as long as it took. And part of her wanted to, very much.

      His presence at tonight’s event was expected. Reneging without good reason was unthinkable.

      She