“Wow,” Marisa murmured. “Nice ride. I picked you for something a lot more…uh…sedate.”
“I like sports cars and this one is safe. Wait here a moment. There was a problem with the clutch earlier and I need to check it,” Luke said, taking the keys and tipping the guy. Then, he strode over to the car and opened the passenger’s door, leaning in and fiddling around with things inside the car. After a minute or two, he straightened, then went around to the other side of the car and repeated the routine.
Marisa admired the car while Luke did whatever he was doing with the clutch. She did like a nice sports car, especially long, lean, and sexy sports cars.
Five minutes later, clearly satisfied by whatever he’d done, he said, “I think it’s okay. You can get in now.”
She did so, glancing at him as she put her seat belt on. “What was all that about?”
“Oh, the clutch was a little stiff earlier. Probably have to take it to a mechanic at some point.” He adjusted his mirror, touched the gearshift, then the hand brake. Then put his hands on the wheel. “Ready?”
“Yeah.”
Luke pulled the car out into the traffic, his hands lean and strong on the wheel.
“So, why an Aston Martin?” Marisa asked, curious. “You look more like a Volvo kind of guy to me.”
“I don’t like Volvos.”
“Why not? What have you got against Volvos?”
“I prefer fast when it comes to my cars.”
An uptight guy who liked fast cars. That was way more intriguing than it had any right to be. “Hmmm, which implies you have more than one.”
“I do have more than one. I collect sports cars.”
Marisa blinked. “Wow, really? That’s an expensive habit.”
“It’s the one indulgence I allow myself.”
Marisa glanced at him. The lights of the city passed over his features, highlighting the amazing architecture of his face. Strong jawline, high cheekbones, blade-straight nose. And a surprisingly sensual mouth. Surprising in that he wasn’t a man who gave the impression of sensuality in the slightest. Or that he would indulge himself with anything. He was always so contained. Detached.
Except when he touched you.
Oh yeah. Soooo not detached then.
An unwelcome shiver of awareness went through her, which was insane. Apparently her body had no sense of timing.
“So you collect sports cars and don’t like Volvos,” she said. “Excellent. Both vital facts.”
He flicked her a glance. “You use a lot of sarcasm, don’t you? Especially with me. Any particular reason?”
The question was unexpected, disconcerting her that he’d noticed. She tried to think of some kind of witty response and failed. “I guess it’s because you irritate me.”
“You irritate me, too.”
“Oh. Right. Fair enough, then.” She twisted her purse again, not liking the flat statement and unable to pinpoint why. Because what kind of toss did she give about his opinion? Zero toss. “I think we’ve already established that anyway, right?”
“This is true.” He slowed for a traffic light. “But we can’t let our personal feelings about each other affect any decisions we make about the baby.”
Marisa folded her hands over her stomach, sick at the words “decisions” and “baby.”
God. I am so not ready for this.
“I think the first decision we really have to discuss is whether to keep it or not,” Luke’s incisive voice cut through the sudden flood of emotion.
The knot in the pit of her stomach tightened further.
“Because there are options these days,” he went on relentlessly. “You can give the child up for adoption or you can—”
“Please, you don’t need to say it.”
“So which is it to be?” Demand echoed in his tone.
Why did he insist on a decision now? When she’d barely gotten her head around it? She needed time, she needed space, she needed…
You know what you’re going to do.
Her palm flattened against her belly as an old and primal instinct sparked to life inside her. Yeah, she knew. Oh, she had enough self-doubt about her abilities to sink the Titanic, not to mention the fact that a kid would threaten all the plans she’d made. The plans for leaving work and taking an art course, perhaps going to university and getting a fine arts degree. For setting up a glass studio and doing what she wanted for a change, not what other people thought she should be doing.
That didn’t mean she wanted to get rid of this baby. Her baby. She’d made a lot of mistakes in her life, a lot of bad decisions. But this child wouldn’t be one of them.