A Pregnancy, a Party & a Proposal. Teresa Carpenter
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He watched the soft rise and fall of her breasts and struggled with the desire to pull her into his arms.
No, his feelings about their relationship didn’t match hers at all. Sure, he believed in keeping things short and light, but he usually called the where and when.
And when he looked at her he saw unfinished business.
LAUREN ACCEPTED RAY’S suggestion to rest as an opportunity to avoid conversation for the rest of their trip to the airport. She shrugged out of the brown cropped jacket she wore over a cream sweater and jeans, then settled back against the seat and watched the road through the veil of her lashes.
Thank goodness seeing where they were headed had helped to calm her queasy stomach.
One thing was for certain. She needed to get this morning sickness under control or she’d be making explanations before she was ready. Ray was too intelligent not to put the pieces together with them living in each other’s pockets.
And then there was his grandmother, aunt and cousin. Hopefully they’d be too caught up in Ray’s visit and Mamó’s birthday to pay much attention to her.
At the airport they departed from the commuter terminal. Expedited VIP service streamlined their boarding process and within minutes she climbed the steps to a mid-sized jet. The scent of fine leather hit her as soon as she entered the plane. Fortunately the baby had no objection to the smell.
Lauren made her way down the aisle between half a dozen armchair-style seats in creamy beige. The second half of the cabin contained two face-to-face couches of the same color in a soft ultra-suede fabric. At the end a door stood open on a full-sized restroom.
Just wow. This was totally going to spoil her for flying coach.
Pretending a sophistication she didn’t feel, she turned to Ray. “Where do I sit?”
“Wherever you want.” He indicated two armchairs facing each other. “Why don’t we start here? I asked the attendant to bring you some tea once we’re in the air. She’ll also bring you something to eat. Do you want eggs and bacon? Bagels or muffins? Fruit?”
“I don’t care for anything right now.” She sank into the chair next to the window.
“A few bites of protein bar aren’t much,” he protested. “You need something more.”
“Welcome aboard.” The attendant, an attractive brunette in a gray pantsuit, appeared at her elbow. “My name is Julie. I’ll be serving you today. If you need anything you can call me via the remote, or just push this button.” She showed Lauren on her armrest. “I’ll bring tea when we’ve reached cruising altitude. What more would you like?”
“Nothing for—”
“Thank you, Julie.” Ray cut Lauren off. “Please bring a selection of bagels, fruit, and yogurt.”
Lauren slammed him with a glare at his arrogant disregard for her wishes. She should know if she was hungry.
“May I take your things?” Julie offered. “There’s a closet at the front of the cabin. You’ll have full access during the flight.”
Lauren handed off her purse and coat. She waited until the other woman had disappeared before addressing Ray.
“If you hope to get along on this trip you will refrain from treating me like a child.”
“Then don’t behave like one.”
His gaze roved over her. She felt the weight of it everywhere it touched.
“You’re still pale. Food helped in the car. I can only assume it would be better if you had something more. It would please me if you ate. But the choice is yours.”
She gritted her teeth. To argue further would only make her sound petty.
Luckily the pilot’s voice filled the cabin. “Please fasten your seatbelts. We’ll be departing momentarily.”
Avoiding Ray’s gaze, she glanced out the window as the plane began to move. His reasonableness did nothing to appease her. In fact it only annoyed her, putting her in the position of being unreasonable—an intolerable situation, which was totally his fault.
It would please him if she ate? Seriously?
Right this minute she felt fine. She hoped to stay that way through takeoff. And the thought of food...? Not helping.
As a view of the airport, planes, and air traffic personnel flowed by the porthole window she marveled once again at her current circumstances. The only explanation she could come up with was she must have royally ticked off Lady Karma in another life, because she should not be pregnant.
She’d started on the pill. Ray had worn condoms. Yeah, they’d been frantic for each other, but they’d also been responsible. Okay, there had been that once when the condom broke. Yet—hello?—still on the pill. Sure, her doctor had warned her that it took time for the body to adjust, but it had been a month. Well, almost.
The force of takeoff pushed her back in her seat as the plane began to rise. Her fingers curled into fists on the armrests, her nails digging into the soft leather. She closed her eyes, willed her stomach to behave.
“Are you okay?”
Ray’s voice sounded next to her ear at the same time as a warm hand settled over her clenched fingers.
Her eyes flew open. When had he moved next to her?
More to the point, when had his touch become an instant soother?
It had to be the distraction, her logical mind asserted, but she didn’t care. She turned her hand over, threaded her fingers through his and accepted the warmth and comfort he freely offered.
Tension eased away, taking the rising nausea with it.
“Thank you.” She gave him a feeble smile.
“Nervous flyer?” he sympathized.
“Mmm...” She made a noncommittal sound. Poor guy. Her hormones were all over the place, her emotions likewise. Talk about mixed signals. She didn’t know how she felt—how could he begin to guess?
“Not usually.” She made an effort to participate in the conversation, hoping the resulting distraction would continue to work on her mind and stomach. “I guess I’m nervous about the whole trip. We haven’t truly discussed how we’re going to handle things. I’m not comfortable lying to your grandmother.”
“Me neither,” he said. “So we don’t lie.”
Eying his stoic expression, she felt the muscles in her shoulders begin to tense again. “If you’re suggesting—”
“I’m not.” He squeezed her fingers. “We’re friends. At least I hope you consider me a friend. That’s what we put out there.”
Because his touch felt too good, she pulled her hand free of his. On another level she noticed the plane had leveled out. “But everyone has an expectation there’s more between us.”
“Exactly. We’ll just be ourselves and they’ll see what they want to see.”
She tapped her fingers on the armrest as she considered his approach. “Still seems a little artificial.”
“The power of illusion comes from a collective awareness. People believe what they want to believe. Directors use viewer expectations as a tool to manipulate the audience’s emotions all the time. It doesn’t make what they feel any less real.”
“Do you hear the words you’re using? Manipulate...audience. This is your family we’re talking about, not a theater full of moviegoers.”
She understood the concept he presented, and, yes, she expected it would work as well as he stated.