Pregnant by the Playboy Tycoon. Anne Oliver

are saying I’m irresponsible.’

      ‘I don’t want to play word games with you.’

      But a different kind of game…one involving that delectable mouth currently thinned in vexation and tilted towards him…the one he’d soothed and wanted to explore further, for pleasure this time…

      Hell.

      Frowning, he peered at his watch. Drummed itchy fingers against the steering wheel. Too many hours to count. He switched on the ignition and fiddled with the radio, trying to get some reception to fill in the time, but all he got was static.

      Then Anneliese reached into the passenger door’s side pocket and pulled a selection of CDs out of the bag she’d bought earlier in the day. ‘Try these.’

      He frowned at the covers: one with a collage of street violence and wilderness, another with a humanoid form emerging from the jawlike petals of a metallic rose. ‘ “Urban Plunder” and “Metamorphosis”?’