Kitabı oku: «One-Amazing-Night Baby!: A Wild Night & A Marriage Ultimatum / Pregnant by the Playboy Tycoon / Pleasure, Pregnancy and a Proposition»

One amazing, passionate night of pleasure, one pregnancy …

One-Amazing- Night Baby!

Three sexy romances from three favourite Mills & Boon authors!

ONE-AMAZING-NIGHT BABY!

A Wild Night & A Marriage Ultimatum

Robyn Grady

Pregnant by the Playboy Tycoon

Anne Oliver

Pleasure, Pregnancy and a Proposition

Heidi Rice

www.millsandboon.co.uk

A Wild Night

& A Marriage

Ultimatum

Robyn Grady

Dear Reader,

What does “a marriage of convenience” mean today? Proposals underpinned by notions of security or duty are largely relics of the past. Now, more than ever, why would we choose to marry outside of love … unless this question needs to be asked: What will be best for the baby? Then all the hard-won independence in the world can’t supply a cut-and-dried answer.

One impulsive night and a positive pregnancy test later, confirmed bachelorette Sophie Gruebella finds herself in such a dilemma. Millionaire lawyer Cooper Smith might be a dynamite lover, but they can’t agree on the time of day. From her own childhood, Sophie knows her baby will do better in a single-parent home than with a couple that argue non-stop. Marrying without love, or compatibility outside of the bedroom, isn’t an option.

On the other hand, Cooper’s traditional ideals and plans for a family demand a wedding take place—for better or for worse. Trouble is, whenever they kiss, Sophie forgets about “worse” and only remembers “better”.

Best wishes,

Robyn

About the Author

One Christmas long ago, ROBYN GRADY received a book from her big sister and immediately fell in love with Cinderella. Sprinklings of magic, deepest wishes come true—she was hooked! Picture books with glass slippers later gave way to romance novels, and, more recently, the real-life dream of writing for Mills & Boon.

After a fifteen-year career in television, Robyn met her own modern-day hero. They live on Australia’s Sunshine Coast with their three little princesses, two poodles, and a cat called Tinkie. Robyn loves new shoes, worn jeans, lunches at Moffat Beach and hanging out with her friends on eHarlequin. Learn about her latest releases at www.robyngrady.com, and don’t forget to say hi. She’d love to hear from you!

For Tabitha, Holly and Ashleigh—dream big, stay

strong, be happy.

CHAPTER ONE

‘WOULD all the eligible ladies please move to the centre of the room? The bride will now throw the bouquet!’

Sophie Gruebella’s gaze jumped from her fingertip, slowly rimming her glass, to the middle-aged DJ, then over to the women jostling for position on the Sydney ballroom dance floor. Her emerald-green gown rustled as she sat up straight and set her hands resolutely in her lap.

Uh-uh. No way. She was pleased her friend had found Mr Right. Wendy and Noah looked perfect together, particularly now, as he brushed a kiss over his wife’s lips and Wendy swished her snow-white train out of the way, preparing to lob her roses into the excited skirted throng. But sadly, as far as Sophie was concerned, showing up today had been effort enough.

Practically everyone here knew she’d been unceremoniously dumped three months earlier. Self-medication consisted of a nightly overdose of anything resembling chocolate, and a cycle of romantic comedy DVDs, the happy endings of which made her all the more morose. She’d gained ten pounds—and that was only under her eyes.

The humiliation of being tossed aside for a younger, thinner, more attractive woman was gradually losing its sting; she no longer considered herself in love with Ted, thank heaven. However, being the unassuming rather than assertive type, the blow to her self-esteem had been crushing. The notion of ever falling in love again, let alone literally chasing a wedding bouquet, left her feeling ill.

The DJ’s dulcet tones resonated around the ballroom, which was decorated with the finest linen and flickering candelabra. ‘Last chance, ladies. Who will catch the bouquet? Who’s next in line?’

Sophie sighed. Would the happiness Wendy and Noah shared today ever be hers? Could she bear to open up and risk her heart again? Though it pained her to admit it, as more time passed, the less she believed. And heaven knew an extravagant ceremony and a licence were no guarantee any rainbow would last for ever.

As Sophie pondered, a striking masculine figure crossed her path. Her heartbeat skipped, and for a giddy moment that sick feeling in her stomach faded. Handsome in a dangerous 007 kind of way, he stopped slightly ahead and to the right of her. The tuxedo jacket, which emphasised the breadth of his shoulders, shifted as he retrieved a phone from his breast pocket. Profile earnest, long legs braced apart, he checked his watch, shook his head and, after a few indecipherable words into the cellphone, terminated the conversation.

A business call? Odd for a Saturday night. Sophie surveyed the room. His girlfriend must be among that mob limbering up. Because confident, killer-sexy guys like that always had girlfriends—and not well-padded, down-hearted specimens like herself.

Sophie pushed her glass aside.

In fact, it was high time she left.

As she scooped the last heart-shaped chocolate into her handbag, a collective whoop went up to the ceiling and something bright and fragrant landed in her lap. She looked down and gasped.

How on earth had Wendy’s bouquet flown all the way back here? More importantly—oh, Lord—where could she hide?

With every eye drilled upon her, Sophie withered in her seat and the DJ hooted. ‘Great throw, Wendy! Let’s put our hands together for the shy little lady up the back.’

Over a smattering of applause, Sophie executed a wobbly smile. Even sent a little wave. When the show was finally over, and couples began to reunite, her friends Penny Newly and Kate Tigress hurried over.

Above the plunging neckline of a silver-sequinned gown, Penny’s mouth twisted on a pout. ‘I don’t get it. Why would you want to catch the bouquet?’

Kate slapped Penny’s arm. ‘Don’t be mean.’

Penny winced and rubbed the spot. ‘I only meant that she’s single at the moment. It’s a bit of a waste.’

As far back as high school, Penny had been known for her beautiful blonde mane, ample bosom and lack of tact. However …

Sophie exhaled. ‘You’re right. I’m the least likely to marry next.’

Kate sat down and squeezed Sophie’s hand. ‘You’ll get back in the game, Soph. You’ll find your soul mate. A man so well suited he’ll practically be your twin.’

Sophie found a self-deprecating smile. ‘Can we organise a twin without my spare tyre and tangle of hair?’

Preferably someone sleek and built.

Past Kate’s shoulder, Sophie watched 007 frown into the crowd as he folded impressive arms over an equally impressive chest. Sophie frowned too. Where was the girlfriend?

A skilled hairdresser, Kate swept back a curl which had escaped from Sophie’s upsweep. ‘Just for the record, your cappuccino curls are gorgeous. And if you cut even an inch, you’ll answer to me.’ Her playful scowl eased. ‘You should flaunt what you have, instead of always trying to hold it back.’

Penny shrugged on a nod. ‘And once your clothes fit again …’ She came as close as Penny could to offering a sympathetic face. ‘Well, you’ve always been quite pretty. Really.’

Kate shot Penny a daggers look at the same time as the music kicked off again and their respective boyfriends—brothers they’d met a month earlier—arrived to whisk both away for a romantic cheek-to-cheek.

Sophie gnawed her lower lip, refusing to give in to the tears prickling at the backs of her eyes. Kate meant well, but Sophie didn’t want her pity. And, frankly, she was over wallowing in her own.

Yes, she’d recently limped away from her only long-term relationship. No, she wasn’t Miss World. Truth was she might never find her true love, the man destined to sweep her off her feet. Lots of people didn’t. Maybe, rather than the wedding-bell toll of tradition, she was meant to follow her own beat.

And, heck, perhaps that wasn’t such a bad thing. Looking back now, she could see that the Sophie who’d been with Ted was a pale imitation of the woman she wanted to be. She’d been a shadow. An appendage who’d nodded and never made waves. Story of her life, really.

But no more. Starting now, this minute, she wouldn’t fall back from speaking her own mind. Surely the last thing she needed was a husband setting her boundaries, making the rules?

On a burst of adrenaline, Sophie pushed up out of the chair. She was done worrying over what other people thought—Penny Newly doubly so.

She hadn’t taken two steps towards the exit before a hand on her elbow held her back. Puzzled, she pivoted around. She craned her neck back and her stomach looped the loop at the pair of diamond-blue eyes smiling down at her.

The man with the phone, and the shoulders and the chest, pressed the bouquet into her hand. ‘You dropped this.’

As she absorbed the heat of his fingers curled over hers, his deep voice—a blend of steel and richest sable—vibrated through her. When his gaze slid to her mouth, the ground shifted beneath her feet and the room began a slow spin.

Thankfully, before she could make a complete fool of herself, Sophie’s brain decided to work.

He’d seen the flowers fall from her lap when she’d stood. He was merely being a gentleman, filling in time.

Managing an unaffected smile, Sophie urged the flowers back. ‘You keep them. For your girlfriend.’ Or your wife.

‘I’m unattached.’ He took the bouquet and blindly set it on the tabletop. ‘In fact, I wondered if you’d like this dance.’

Sophie blinked, then stole a wary glance around the room. This man was so out of her league. Was this some kind of joke? But when she met his gaze again, the sexual awareness that had started with a touch began to pour through her veins like thick warm cream.

Hooked by those eyes, she lifted one shoulder and let it drop. ‘I was about to leave.’

Claiming her hand, he spoke over a shoulder as he escorted her away. ‘Then I’m fortunate I caught you in time.’

Only upon reaching the middle of the floor did he fold her into the circle of his highly capable arms. Without another word he set a large palm against her back and began to dance.

Conscious of how her feet moved, as if programmed to follow his lead, she let herself relax against the hard plateau beneath his dress shirt and soak up the fresh, hot scent. When his thumb grazed the back of her hand she bit her lip as parched kindling sparked low in her belly.

Her eyes drifted shut.

Don’t get excited. This is just a dance.

His deep voice hummed near her ear. ‘Your dress is lovely.’

Her cheek all but resting against his shoulder, she melted a little more. ‘It’s been a while since I wore it last.’ She shunted aside a vision of Jolly Green Giant satin stretched over her behind.

Yet he liked her dress. Had her luck changed? And to this extent? She was certain they hadn’t met before. Had Noah ever made mention of this man? A work colleague from the bank, perhaps?

And why was she even asking herself these questions? She was supposed to be off men.

At least she kind of remembered thinking something like that …

Her dance partner picked up the conversational thread. ‘Black tie isn’t a weekly dress requirement for most people.’

Maybe not. Still … ‘That tuxedo doesn’t look so out of place on you.’

‘It gets a decent workout. Hasn’t seen a wedding in a while, though. It’s been a nice day, with the church ceremony and the speeches—’ he whirled her around in a flawless move ‘—the bridal waltz.’

Yep—all perfect. Right down to the hired Rolls-Royce. She scanned the opulent ballroom, wrapped in silk bows, glowing light and soft music. ‘It must have cost of fortune.’

‘I’m sure Noah thinks it’s worth every cent.’

‘Wendy too.’ With both sets of parents passed away, she and Noah had covered all the expenses. Wendy’s designer gown alone had cost thousands.

His voice lowered. ‘You sound unconvinced. Don’t you think a traditional day with all the trimmings is worth the expense?’

She pressed her lips together. ‘Not my place to say. It’s not my day.’

‘And if it was your day?’

She suppressed a sigh, wishing she could feel as enthusiastic as she should for the deserving couple. A few moments ago she’d made a vow to lift herself out of her sadsack hole. Even given the benefit of her mystery man’s unexpected attention and this wonderful dance, she guessed she still had a way to go.

She shook her head. ‘I’m not the person to ask right now.’

‘Because of what your thoughtless friend said a moment ago?’

As his words sank in, her stomach flipped. She searched those hypnotic blue eyes. Did she have it right? It hurt to even say it. ‘You overheard that conversation?’

One dark brow arched. ‘I heard enough.’

Once your clothes fit again … Quite pretty. Really. Bit of a waste …

Her throat convulsed on rising humiliation and her cheeks flamed for a second time that night. She cringed, imagining the ‘L’ burning into her forehead. ‘Is that why you asked me to dance? You felt sorry for me?’

His lower lip jutted slightly. ‘At first. Until I looked more closely.’

She blinked. Was that another compliment? Was the heat she imagined surging between them real?

‘And now?’ she asked.

The hand on her back manoeuvred her closer. ‘I answered your question. Your turn to answer mine. How do you envisage your perfect wedding day?’

He held her with his gaze, defying her not to answer, and—dammit—she backed down. But not in the compliant way she might have in the past. She might feel like a dream in this man’s arms, but she couldn’t forget that foremost it was pity that had landed her here. Frumpy, unfortunate, wallflower Sophie. She was so sick of seeing herself that way, worrying about how she looked and what people thought—well-meaning hunks included.

Did she want a traditional wedding?

She found her inner strength, lifted her chin and spoke her mind. ‘Until tonight I would’ve said I wanted a big wedding, with a big cake and a big bill.’

His eyes lit. ‘That’s changed?’

She allowed herself a smile. ‘Deep down I’ve always wanted a wedding on the beach. A party with finger-foods and bare toes digging into cool sand. If I ever get married,’ she qualified.

‘Surely you want a husband? A family?’

So aware of the hard length of his body moving in a seductive rhythm against hers, she assessed his curious expression and threw out the challenge. ‘Is it so strange for a woman to admit she might not see herself tying any knots?’

He swayed her around. ‘Frankly, yes. It’s men, not women, who usually run from any altar.’

‘Is that based on your own predilections?’

Was he the playboy type? Hands down, he had all the right equipment.

His shadowed jaw shifted. ‘Actually, I have nuptials planned for the near future—complete with the big cake and big bill.’

Okay, now she was confused. ‘You’re unattached, but getting married soon?’

‘I have a list of requirements. I simply need to find the woman who fits.’

She coughed out a laugh. ‘A list? Are you checking it twice? I mean, you’re kidding, right?’

His serious look said not. ‘Every day I deal with unhappy couples who married without giving enough thought to long-term compatibility. I devised the list for a clueless client a couple of years back, to help him guard against future mistakes.’

Talk about setting boundaries! She almost pitied his future bride. What kind of person thought it necessary to wield such dispassionate control over something like falling in love? ‘What are you? A therapist?’

‘Divorce attorney.’

‘A divorce attorney with a list?’ His expression would have been condescending if it hadn’t been so charming. She decided to serve it up straight. ‘I don’t think I’ve heard anything less romantic.’

‘Try angry people fighting over assets, using children as pawns. Impulsive love, careless marriages—most often they turn to frustration, regret, and sometimes even hate.’

She thought it through and made up her mind. She might feel particularly jaded after the Ted incident, and admittedly she was having real trouble believing in rainbows, however … ‘Sorry, but if I had to choose I’d take falling head over heels in love over checklists any day.’

His square jaw hardened and his gaze left hers to drift over the heads in the room. ‘In that case, you’re right. You shouldn’t tie any knots.’

She stiffened.

Not with you, anyway.

After doubling her defences against the steam radiating from his body through to hers, she dished out another observation. ‘You’d have to find someone pretty special to go along with a checklist.’

His untroubled gaze swung back to lick her lips. ‘Ah, but finding someone special is what it’s all about.’

As she tried to push their difference of opinion from her mind his hips seemed to press closer, and the spark in her belly leapt higher. Sophie dropped her chin as her eyes drifted closed against the threat of unbidden pleasure and mounting frustration.

Should she even try to respect this man’s clinical viewpoint? Normally manners and ‘what was expected’ would win out, but when that bouquet had fallen from her lap tonight something had changed. She’d turned a corner, grown taller, broken free, and now, no matter what, she couldn’t go back to being a mouse. She simply couldn’t do what decorum required and let this rest.

When her gaze skewered his again, he didn’t appear the least surprised.

‘So, if you fell madly in love,’ she said, ‘but she got, say, three strikes on your list, she’d be out of the door?’

‘A parting of the ways would be best. The relationship simply wouldn’t survive long-term.’

She and Ted had liked many of the same things. Her parents had started out sharing interests. Now they barely spoke. On the other hand, her nan and grandpa had zilch in common, yet they still looked at each other all gooey and held hands walking down the street.

Common interests. No common interests. This man’s logic was obviously flawed, and she was going to tell him.

She gave him a level look. ‘I think finding the right one is more about luck than arrangement.’

Crisp black fabric brushed beneath her fingers as he rolled back a shoulder. ‘Your prerogative.’

She pressed her lips together. No, she wouldn’t ask. She’d bite off her tongue before giving him the satisfaction.

She set her teeth, but the question escaped anyway. ‘What’s at the top of your list?’

He pinned her with a mock stern glare. ‘Someone who won’t argue.’

That settled it. GQ material or not, clearly he rubbed her the wrong way. Why prolong the aggravation? She’d make it easy for them both.

After disengaging herself, she stepped back, straining to keep her voice even. ‘Guess you asked the wrong girl to dance.’

His head cocked. ‘Why? Because we have opposite ideas on how a couple should meet, court, then celebrate their union—in fact, pretty much everything there is to securing a lifelong companion?’

Ridiculous. She’d known him barely ten minutes, yet her silly heart squeezed as she nodded.

A smile curved a corner of his mouth as he scratched his temple. ‘Trouble is, I enjoyed our dance.’ When he stepped into the space separating them, her body responded with a knee-quaking wave of warmth. ‘But it was just a dance. No budding romance. No broken hearts. No harm done.’

Sophie finally released the air burning in her lungs. Oh, hell. She hated to admit it, but he was right. She’d been on a razor-sharp edge all night, and while the idea of his list irked, she had no need to throw down her glove. That was his business, not hers. The new assertive Sophie needed time to adjust.

His expression softened as he held out a hand. ‘Truce?’

She succumbed to a small smile. ‘Sure. Why not?’

She imagined his hand held hers a moment longer than was necessary before his chest inflated and he nodded towards the doors behind her.

‘I need some fresh air. Care to join me on the balcony?’ His mouth twitched. ‘On a purely platonic basis, of course.’

Sophie hesitated, then saw the humour shining in his eyes.

Should she join him on the balcony? She would never be affected by his list; he couldn’t impose any boundaries on her. But, irrespective of his quirks, this man’s company was the most stimulating she’d ever had. If he had nothing better to do, heaven knew neither did she. And after the last few heated moments some fresh air would be nice. A rerun of The Wedding Date could wait.

They mounted three stairs and, after passing through a set of wall-to-wall French doors, left the party noise and dressed tables behind. Crossing the patio, adorned with trellises of perfumed lemon and maroon hibiscus, they moved towards a view that included the twinkling rainbow of lights decorating Sydney’s coat-hanger bridge. He leant back against the sculptured stone railing, crossed his arms and met her gaze.

A steady pulse beat in his jaw while a lock of hair bounced on the salty autumn breeze drifting in off the glimmering harbour. Sophie’s heartbeat hitched. Even if he was insufferably superior, she had to concede James Bond had zip on this guy.

She looped her loose spiral of hair behind an ear. ‘When did you decide you wanted to get married?’

‘Tonight.’

She hiked a brow. ‘This from a guy who won’t act on impulse?’

His sexy grin said, Touché. ‘I’ve known Noah since school. We lost touch until recently. Seeing him get settled made me realise I’m not getting any younger. I want a wife. A son. It’s time.’ He turned to face the view and rest his forearms on the railing. ‘And you? I’m sure at some stage you want children.’

Hands cushioning the small of her back, Sophie leant against the railing. Normally she wouldn’t consider discussing such intimate matters with a stranger. After a year’s dating, she and Ted hadn’t even touched upon the subject of rattles and playpens.

But hadn’t she decided not to be a shrinking violet? What possible harm could come from a little sharing? In fact, she’d bottled so much up from her friends and colleagues over these last three months it would be a relief to let some of it go.

‘I love kids.’ It was a big reason she’d become a schoolteacher. ‘I always thought when the time was right, when I found the right one …’ Her voice trailed off.

When? Or did she mean if?

One thing she did know: she would never say I do unless she was totally, one hundred per cent certain of an unshakable love: no compromise. And right now, miserable though it might sound, she couldn’t see it anywhere in her near future.

Shifting to hug herself against the chill in the air, she tried to make light. ‘Guess I’ll put any plans for a family on the backburner.’

‘While I bring it to the front.’ His voice lowered. ‘Seems we’re at odds again.’

Her arms dropped and she pushed off the rail. She’d had enough air. ‘If I think of anyone who might help, I’ll send her on. Thanks for the dance.’

He spun around. ‘Where are you going?’

‘Time to call it a night.’ The last of the Cadbury’s block in her chocolate bin beckoned. Come Monday she’d join the gym. Maybe a new body would help reinforce a new frame of mind.

She started off, but his disapproving tone pulled her up. ‘You’re going to let them see you walk out of here alone?’

Puzzled, she shrugged. ‘That was always going to happen.’

‘There is an alternative.’

She read his mind and shuddered. No more pity, please. ‘You don’t have to escort me out.’

He sauntered forward, his dynamic silhouette breathtaking in the slanted moonlight. ‘I had something a little more eye-catching in mind.’

She waved her hands. ‘Whatever it was, I’ve had enough attention heaped on me tonight.’

His tall, athletic frame backed her up towards the doors. Moving in reverse, she swallowed, wondering at the devilish look stealing across his face. ‘What were you planning?’

He grinned. ‘Sweet revenge.’

The moment they re-entered the room, he swept her up into the powerful bands of his arms and the air left her lungs in a shriek. She was weightless! Floating high above the usual normality of her world. It must be a dream. Things like this didn’t happen to her. Soon the alarm would go off.

A nervous laugh spilled out. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Giving your friend an exit to remember. She can stick this in the back of her yearbook.’

It clicked. ‘You’re going to carry me out in front of everyone?’

He looked disappointed. ‘That’s only half of it.’

Parading themselves certainly made an impression. A Mexican wave erupted across the room as, one by one, the crowd turned to gape at the picture they must have created—she nestled in her knight’s arms like a rescued damsel, gauzy curtains billowing all around. Standing together with their boyfriends, Penny and Kate gazed on, frozen in awe like life-size garden statues. Kate began to smile.

When they had everyone’s attention, and even the music had died, her modern-day Sir Galahad descended each step, not once looking down or cracking a smile. As he moved forward the wedding guests parted—a wheat field divided by the hot blast of a breeze.

Not certain how she should react, but helpless not to relish every moment, Sophie linked her arms around his neck and whispered, ‘What am I supposed to tell them later?’

With no word of warning, he stopped and dropped his mouth over hers.

He kissed her so deeply, so thoroughly, jets of colour-filled fireworks exploded in her head. When their lips softly parted, she was vaguely aware of their audience and a round of booming applause. Bowled over, she melted into the rocking motion as he started out again.

‘Tell them you only used me for sex,’ he said as they left the room, ‘and that I’m the biggest notch on your bedpost yet.’

CHAPTER TWO

COOPER SMITH stopped into the deserted hotel corridor outside a pair of metallic lift doors. He shucked back his shoulders, then considered the stunned package cradled in his arms.

He grinned. ‘I think they enjoyed the show.’

God knows he had. That exit had been the first entirely wild thing he’d done in ages. He’d read somewhere that breaking loose every so often was a tonic for the soul. He had a feeling it could also be highly addictive, which—given his professional knowledge about impulsive behaviour—was probably not a good thing.

She took him in, big green eyes luminous with shock. He was starting to wonder if it might be permanent when she smiled, then began to laugh. Her jiggling body, that infectious sound—he had to chuckle too.

Eyes watery with effort, she finally got her breath. ‘I bet Penny’s jaw is still on the floor.’ She shook her head in astonishment. ‘I can’t believe we just did that.’ Then she frowned. ‘I can’t believe you didn’t warn me.’

‘You’d only have argued.’

She dealt him that haughty look. ‘Maybe not.’

If anything she was consistent.

Consistently disagreeable.

Normally he wouldn’t get involved, but the sight of an attractive woman on her own, a colourful bouquet sitting like a death sentence in her lap, had reeled him in. His heartstrings had tugged him all the way into asking her to dance. That he’d enjoyed their time together was a bonus, even after her stubborn streak had made it crystal-clear she most definitely was not ‘the one’.

She wasn’t an advocate of tradition, marriage or, it seemed, even having a family. Most alarming … she believed a successful union was based on luck. A time bomb waiting to explode. He needed someone who looked at life and love level-headedly.

A person made his own luck.

Still, regardless of their differences, despite the fact there could be nothing between them, he couldn’t regret that kiss. Not that it would happen again.

He inspected the closed lift doors. ‘So, up or down?’

‘To the lobby and a taxi … so, down.’

Adrenaline was pumping through his body, bunching his muscles, firing the synapses over his skin. He wasn’t the least bit tired. They couldn’t go back to work off their energies at the wedding reception, however.

‘It’s too early to go home.’

‘It’s almost eleven.’

Hardly late. ‘Are you tired?’

Her mouth twisted to one side. ‘I thought I was.’

Solution. ‘Join me for coffee.’

‘I don’t drink coffee.’

He raised a brow. How could he forget? If he wanted to walk left, she would insist they go right.

He persisted. ‘Something cool, then?’

‘Tell you what, put me down and I’ll think about it.’

Cooper paused, then cleared his throat. How had that detail slipped his mind?

He lowered her and she brushed off her gown. Her scent lingered—cinnamon and perhaps vanilla, a combination of spicy and sweet that suited her down to the ground.

A spiral of hair spilled across her heart-shaped face as she angled her head to study him. ‘I’ll be honest. I don’t know how to take that invitation.’

On the surface it might look like more pity, or an attempt to slip that notch on his bedpost, or, at best, a waste of time. But it was much simpler than that. Maybe it was seeing his friend happily married, but if she was feeling a little lonely tonight, so was he.

He scooped his hands into his pockets.

Of course, a more rational explanation was that he’d been working too hard for too long. But all that was too much information.

‘We know we’re not suited in a romantic sense, so you needn’t worry that we’ll somehow fall into bed.’ Hurt flooded her eyes and he inwardly cringed. Damn. And he’d thought her friend was tactless. He pushed on. ‘We’d just be two responsible adults, who have mutual friends, sharing a drink and some conversation after a wedding.’

A faint line formed between her brows. She nibbled her lower lip and studied him.

He withdrew his hands from his pockets. ‘Or I can ride with you down to the ground floor and see you get a cab.’

The doubt in her face faded. She had the most exquisitely shaped lips—soft, luscious, made for kissing, not warring. But that was getting off-track.

She tipped her head. ‘There’s a coffee shop off the lobby. Guess I could enjoy one quick hot chocolate on the way out.’

Surprised, but pleased, he thumbed the lift button. ‘One quick one it is.’

An elderly lady appeared and squeezed between them to hit the ‘up’ arrow. ‘That shop closes at ten,’ she told them, rearranging a cerise shawl around a pair of robust shoulders. ‘If you’re after hot chocolate, I recommend Room Service. Best I’ve tasted.’

A lift arrived, and the lady disappeared behind the doors. At the same time the next lift pinged … going down.

Cooper scrubbed his jaw. ‘Guess that does that.’

‘You have something against Room Service?’

He looked at her hard. He must have it wrong. ‘Are you saying you’d come to my room?’

‘Depends. Do you have one?’

‘As a matter of fact, I do.’ Despite his attempt at blasé, surprise must have shown on his face.

‘We’re both over twenty-one,’ she pointed out calmly. ‘Besides, you just finished telling me seduction is the last thing on your mind. In case you’re worried, the same goes for me.’

He grinned at her impudent look. Or was it saucy? If she wasn’t such a pain in the rear end …

But she was right. He had a plan. A list. Now it was set in his mind, nothing would dissuade or distract him. He wouldn’t seduce her, though others might. He constantly cautioned his kid sister to be careful. Guys loved sex. Most would do almost anything to get it. And plenty ran a sprinter’s mile if precautions failed and suddenly baby made three.

A couple of minutes later they arrived at the penthouse floor and he let her into the apartment. She crossed the Italian marble floor to sample the expansive harbour view that featured the Opera House’s majestic shells.

‘You reserved a whole loft apartment for the night?’ she asked, moving to the far wall to inspect his favourite painting—a warm, brightly hued abstract he’d picked up in Hanoi. ‘Must’ve cost a packet.’

He shucked out of his jacket and hung it on the hall stand. ‘I own it.’

‘Oh, you do not.’ Her sceptical face slid. ‘In this hotel?’

Making his way to the expansive black granite wet bar, he nodded.

‘This is the sort of space I imagine movie stars hire,’ she murmured, taking it all in. ‘Do you actually live here?’

He picked up the bar’s phone extension. ‘I have a house in the northern suburbs.’

Making herself at home, she folded into the couch, the emerald of her gown striking against the beige suede cushions. His gaze skimmed her hair.

What would those upswept dark waves look like dancing around her shoulders? Stunning, would be his guess. Long and bouncy.

‘I bet it’s big?’

With a start, his mind skipped back. The line connecting him to Room Service rang in his ear. ‘Excuse me?’

‘Your house,’ she said. ‘I bet it’s big.’

The agent had described it as a mansion, but it was more an investment—like this double-storey loft. ‘It’s comfortable.’

He ordered their drinks, then poured two ice waters.

Her grin was knowing. ‘You look like you come from money.’

He hadn’t thought about it. ‘My parents were well off, but far from rich. When they died, five years ago, I had to provide for my younger sister. So I pumped more energy into my law firm and at the same time invested well. Shares, bonds, property. The usual portfolio.’

‘You must have lucked out on some great choices along the way.’

Luck had had little to do with it. His success was based on good planning.

Frowning, he moved to join her. ‘You have a real thing with superstition, don’t you?’

‘Only about certain things.’

‘For instance?’

‘Spilt salt. You have to throw it back over your left shoulder for good luck.’

‘What about black cats?’

‘They bring good luck. Even better if you stroke their head three times.’

Stopping before her, he laughed. ‘You honestly believe that?’

‘King Charles I of England loved his black cat and had it guarded every minute. The very day after it died he was arrested and later beheaded for treason. Thank you …’ Accepting her water, she tilted her head at him. ‘I don’t even know your name.’

Easing down beside her, he pulled loose his black bow tie. ‘Cooper Smith. Yours?’

She swallowed a mouthful. ‘Sophie will do. I hate my last name.’

‘Couldn’t be any worse than Smith.’

‘That’s a note from heaven compared to mine.’ She heeled off her silver stilettos and wiggled two sets of dainty toes. Painted deep red. Very nice—particularly against her creamy skin. ‘My mother said not to worry because I could dump it when I got married.’

A feat she wasn’t certain of accomplishing now.

He put her toes, and marriage, from his mind and eased back into the cushions. ‘You could change your name by deed poll.’

‘A bit drastic, don’t you think?’

He grunted. Had she agreed with anything he’d said tonight? Pity the poor fool who fell in love with her. She’d have him hopping all over the place.

‘Statistics confirm both men and women are waiting longer to marry.’ He hid a wry grin behind his glass. ‘So you might get lucky yet.’

She smiled sweetly. ‘So might you.’

Like an avalanche, the memory of his mouth covering hers suddenly crashed the cells of his body and his mind. He rubbed his eyes with an index finger and thumb. Obviously he was more tired than he’d thought. He had been up past two last night, going over some briefs for a big court case next week.

Professions. Yes, that was safe subject.

His stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankles. ‘So, you know I’m a lawyer. What do you do for a living, Sophie Last-name-withheld?’

‘I’m a schoolteacher, and love it.’ She smiled as if she had a secret. ‘Well, most days.’ Hooking an arm behind her over the couch, she sighed at the ceiling. ‘Teenage girls can be so single-minded.’

He raised his brows. Tell him about it. He had one at home, always trying to bend the rules. Not in his house.

‘Half are great with homework and focusing,’ she continued. ‘All the other half think of is playing house and having babies.’

As she spoke, his gaze ran over her … Big green eyes, pert little nose, flawless skin. Feeling every inch like a rippling touch—around her face, up her arm—a bright-tipped wave reeled over him. Tingling.

Hot.

He shifted and sat taller. More residual effects from that kiss. Nothing he couldn’t handle if he put his mind to it. She was attractive—sexy, even—but no one to become romantically involved with. Absolutely not. He had a list, a plan, and someone with Sophie’s traits was exempt.

He cleared the thickness from his throat. ‘Your students … do they come to you for advice?’ He used to have a favourite teacher he’d confided in. Paige, his sister, had mentioned one too.

Sophie nodded. ‘One girl in particular. She’s a darling—sixteen—and I think her boyfriend must be putting the hard word on her.’

Paige was sixteen, but thankfully no boyfriend dominated the scene. Because Cooper knew all about teenage boys—virile, myopic, bursting with testosterone. But honestly, when all was said and done … ‘I guess you can’t blame boys for constantly thinking about …’

Thinking about …

Sex. Dammit, they were thinking about sex. He was thinking about it now. The slope of Sophie’s throat, the rise of her breasts, that silver charm bracelet on her left wrist winking in the light, as if beckoning.

Tensing every muscle, he dropped his focus to the glass he now held tight enough to break.

For God’s sake, Smith, snap out of it! Get your mind out of the bedroom.

Sophie’s raised arm fell onto her lap. ‘I understand that human beings are built that way. Hormones, raging sexual cravings to get close … so close you’re practically living in each other’s skin—’ Her gaze cut back to him and she tipped forward, frowning. ‘Are you all right? You look uncomfortable. Are you hot?’ She flipped a finger at his collar. ‘You should undo that top button.’

With adrenaline pumping a million to one beneath his ribs, his next words came out strangled. ‘I think I’ll leave it fastened.’

Her concerned gaze skated over his brow. ‘You might be coming down with something. A horrible flu ripped through my school last week. One minute you’re fine, the next you’re flat on your back.’

She leant closer and his blood began to sizzle. He didn’t need to hear about anyone being on their back.

‘A cold compress might help.’ She thought for a second, then slid her cool glass over his brow. ‘Better?’

He groaned. Oh, dear Lord, yes.

Closing his eyes, he dissolved against the sensation of hot against cold. Her soft body inches from his hard one. He wondered if she would guess his thoughts … how she’d react … what she’d feel like under that dress.

His eyes sprang open.

Enough, already!

As he jumped back his arm bumped hers, and water splashed a cold patch on his crotch. He sprang to his feet at the same time she sprang to hers.

Automatically she brushed his wet trousers, then realised what she was doing. Not that he minded her hands-on attention—not one bit.

Stepping back, she blinked at him several times as a moment of blinding understanding and awareness flashed between them. His gaze ended on her lips, which she wet nervously before announcing, ‘I should go.’

It was the wedding, the talk about sex, the memory of that sensational kiss. That explained why he felt this kind of attraction—hard, fast, totally unreasonable. It had crept up on him like a cat on a mouse. A lucky black cat with big green eyes.

She moved to leave, but his hand snapped out to grasp her charm braceleted wrist. She turned back slowly, chest rising and falling as if she couldn’t get enough air. Mirrored in her eyes he saw the same desire he felt surging through his veins. Right or wrong—possibly both—he had to act.

‘I don’t want you to go.’ Seemed he’d been saying that all night. This minute he meant it more than ever.

Her slender throat bobbed as she swallowed. ‘Why?’

He ground out, ‘You know why.’

He felt her holding her breath, evaluating the situation, going over their conversations. Her words came out a threadbare whisper. ‘We weren’t going to do this.’

‘I changed my mind.’ He had no other explanation. ‘I think you might have too.’

To test his theory, he skimmed a palm up the silken texture of her arm and those earlier tingles caught light. When she didn’t move, he slid that hand around her waist. She examined the motion, then searched his eyes while her own glistened in the soft light. ‘We’re totally incompatible.’

As if drawn by a magnet, he lowered his head to touch her lips oh-so-softly with his. Physical longing curled like a fist in his stomach. ‘Without a word of a lie, right now I only remember how you taste.’

When his mouth met hers again, she kissed him back. As he pulled away, her eyes drifted open. Her sigh was a sound near surrender. ‘I remember too.’

He tugged her closer and her body melded with his—supple, curvaceous, inviting. Nose touching hers, he murmured against her lips, ‘I want you to know I didn’t intend for this to happen.’

She looked both anxious and decided. ‘This is purely physical, right?’

Yes. ‘Purely physical.’ Overpowering, irresistible. No for ever tied in romantic ribbon here.

‘We’re agreed. We won’t pursue this. I’m not what you want. You’re not what I need. We have no future.’

‘But we can have tonight.’

The next kiss left his breathing ragged and left her clinging to his shirt like a lifebuoy. He went in deep, feeling his pulse rate spike, his energies harden, knowing, regardless of what was said next, there was no turning back.

When he let her surface, she was looking over his shoulder, a little amazed. ‘Cooper, you have a painting of butterflies on the wall.’

Tasting her temple, he carefully released the zip down her back. ‘Do I?’ He couldn’t remember.

‘Three white butterflies together. That’s very good luck.’

‘Have you heard the saying, make love three times before dawn and your life will be long and happy?’

She grinned. ‘Think that’s true?’

‘Only one way to find out.’ For a second time that night, he swept her up into his arms.

Their eyes remained glued as he carried her up to his master bedroom.

‘When I first saw you,’ she murmured, ‘I thought you looked dangerous.’

‘And now?’

She touched his cheek. ‘Now I need to know for sure.’

CHAPTER THREE

WHEN they reached the bedroom, Cooper nudged a light switch with his elbow and the glow from a corner lamp faded up. Sophie’s breath caught in her chest as he smiled down at her slung in his arms, lidded eyes compelling and hot.

Neither had planned this. When she’d agreed to accompany him to his room she’d believed they both meant what they’d said. Cooper had made it clear she didn’t fit his requirements. She’d made it just as clear she considered his attitude towards finding a match puritanical. She was through with overbearing men, and one thing she’d learned about Cooper in their short acquaintance was that he absolutely wanted to be boss.

Yet their bodies had overwritten their concerns and made up their minds for them. In the end Cooper Smith’s unique and potent brand of sex appeal was simply too convincing to resist. What he saw in her she couldn’t say. This had never happened before—not even in her dreams. Was it a by-product of her assertiveness when they’d danced—her decision to speak up rather than suppress? How had Kate put it? ‘You should flaunt what you have, instead of always trying to hold it back.’

Either way, being desired by a sexy, powerful man was flattering. Now she was here, she wouldn’t back down. Rather, she would enjoy every stimulating moment. Tonight, for the first time, she would completely lose herself and reach for a handful of far-flung stars.

And tomorrow she would have no regrets. The only consequence would be a boost to her confidence. God knew, it was time.

He carried her to the side of an ominous-looking king-sized bed, then carefully angled her to set her on her feet. Cupping her cheek, he dropped the most tender of kisses at one side of her mouth. His attention drifted to her shoulder, and the slide of his hand helped the strap fall to her elbow. ‘I should cancel the hot chocolates.’

As his kiss tasted her lips more fully, and the other strap fell too, delicious warmth flooded her belly and seeped through her limbs. She didn’t want him to temper the mood by picking up the phone.

With the zip already undone, the dress dropped in a rustling puddle at her feet. She shivered as the air, enhanced by his mesmerising masculine scent, brushed her breasts. She felt exposed, vulnerable, yet at the same time smouldering with anticipation.

When she answered, her voice was unrecognisably thick. ‘What’ll happen if we don’t answer the door?’

Clearly he wasn’t keen to hit ‘pause’ either. Without releasing her forearm, he grabbed a corner of ocean-blue doona in his other hand and, with a decisive action, flicked it back. ‘They’ll get the hint.’

In a dreamy haze, she helped release his dress shirt buttons, then peeled the fabric from his broad, steamy back. As it dropped to the floor he embraced her again, somehow managing to manoeuvre her back and onto the mattress as he made love with his mouth and his hands. Quaking inside, she let her eyelids flutter shut. She felt almost desperate—in a way starving to know every mouthwatering inch of him. As he settled down beside her and his undiluted power radiated out, she knew that wish would soon be granted.

After he softly broke their kiss to sit on the edge of the bed, she heard his shoes ‘thunk-thunk’ onto the carpet. Tipping onto her side, she briefly wondered if he considered her shape ‘puddingy’ or curvaceous, but she buried the thought and cupped her head in a palm, ready to savour the fascinating vision unfolding before her.

His tanned, toned abdomen rippled and flexed as he slid off his trousers, then his shorts. Then he swung a crooked leg onto the bed and faced her. Awed by the complete bared-all package, she dared a two-finger stroke of his thigh—a surface that compared with sun-warmed granite. Cooper Smith had the body of a male swimwear model—tight, polished, bulging in all the right places. And that included south of the border.

Her mind was stuck on glorious freeze-frame when he urged her onto her back and, reclining beside her, smiled down, as if pleased by her level of interest. He held her hand and placed it on his sternum. Her more romantic side was convinced he had imprinted her touch on his heart.

The sound of his pleasure rumbled beneath her palm, deep and seductive. ‘Your turn.’

Ready to return his smile, Sophie instead found herself holding her breath. All at once the shadow on his strong jaw seemed darker, the blaze in his eyes more intense.

No! She’d promised herself she wouldn’t change her mind. But now the former, far more anxious Sophie whispered in her head. Don’t be a fool. You’ve bitten off more than you can chew.

As if reading her thoughts, Cooper’s smile vanished. Hair fallen over one side of his brow, he pushed up to support his weight on one arm as his gaze skimmed her lips, then examined her eyes. ‘You’re trembling.’

Sophie inhaled his fresh, earthy scent, drank in his concerned expression, and, suddenly feeling childish, shook her head. She wanted this. Would always remember it. All she had to do was take this last step. ‘It’s just that it all seems a little … surreal.’

The air compressed, then pulsed around them as he leaned in close to draw his bristled chin up her jaw. ‘Great, isn’t it?’

His reply was so gravelled and honest, so what she felt as well, that Sophie laughed. Smiling again too, he rolled, sweeping her over on top of him with the movement. She went with the flow and, naked but for her panties, pushed upright to straddle his hips.

A moment of something like reverence passed between them before he reached around, held her behind and, his gaze lowering to caress her body, began to rotate his pelvis—back and forth, up and down. As she let herself go, closed her eyes and gently rocked above him, she felt his physical appreciation increase along with her own. Head lolling forward, then back, she worked with him—against him—till nothing barred their joining but crumbling restraint and an annoying strip of damp cotton brief.

Lost to the swirling depths of sensation, she was about to clear the obstruction when a hot fingertip began a tantalising ascent up her spine. Starting with circling at the base, his touch traced up over each vertebra—an action so subtle yet so exceptionally seductive it raised her skin to goosebumps and her soul to even dizzier heights.

By the time his touch arrived at her tingling nape Sophie’s backbone had not only straightened, she’d over-arced. Her fingers dug behind her into his thighs, while her face worshipped those stars in her own private sky.

As she sizzled with need, he pivoted to a sitting position and, framing her face with his hands, kissed her so deeply she thought she might pass out. When he tried but failed to work a set of fingers through her coiffed hair, his husky murmur brushed warmth across her lips.

‘I want it down.’

She smiled, blindly withdrew some hairpins, then shook out her waist-length hair. More freedom!

Teasing, she hitched up one shoulder and staged a pout. ‘Ready for the wild Lady Godiva look?’

His brows opened up as he twirled one of too many curls. ‘Wild is right.’

Her elation dipped. She combed a fall of spirals away from her cheek. She hated her hair. She only kept it long because it was impossible short. ‘Is it too wild?’

‘Absolutely feral.’ He leaned in, dragged his teeth over her neck and growled, ‘I love it.’

As exhilaration washed through her, his warm, wet mouth discovered the tender peak of her breast. She hummed with unabashed delight as his tongue worked its magic and the friction sparking low in her belly spread a marvellous liquid heat through the streams of her body. An arm bracing her back, he gently twirled her and lowered her upon the sheet.

The exquisite suction and occasional nip on her breast gradually eased. Sophie let out a long pleasure-filled sigh as his lips—his entire frame—began to travel down … over her lightly panting ribs, across her quivering tummy. The warm tip of his tongue trailed around and around her navel till she thought she might go mad.

Biting her lip, she pushed his head aside. ‘That tickles!’

By the lamp’s glow, she watched shadows move over the chiselled planes of his face. His eyes glittered with an authoritative style of mischief that left her weak all over. ‘I’ll have you know I’m being serious here.’

Oh, she believed him.

Her previous thoughts floated back, ribboning around the ecstasy of his mouth’s moist caress as he angled closer to the juncture of her thighs. Inside, she held herself tight as the delectable ache of arousal grew stronger and deeper, until a fine spray of flaming arrows began to fly at her core. The intensity built to such a degree she barely knew she was writhing, or that her fingers were knotted in his hair. She could literally taste the ultimate satisfaction waiting a heartbeat away.

His slightly roughened palm skied down her waist, over her hip, till his touch delved past her panties’ elastic and, curling beneath, met with the unmistakable evidence of her need. At the same moment she gasped at the contact, he snatched the scrap of fabric down and fully off her legs.

Bunched up inside, she shook like a kitten as he kissed her there, with such tenderness and obvious enjoyment that after a moment she forgot every concern other than being an aroused woman with urgent burning needs. She followed where he led, ever closer to the cliff, more than willing to freefall into the blazing whirlpool he had so effortlessly created within her.

Her climax crept up, then knocked her flying. An unfamiliar noise escaped her throat as she gripped his head and held on tight. The release was a continuous detonation of throbbing pleasure that kicked her hips off the bed and sent her soul soaring towards those far-flung stars.

She rode the rolling crest until the intensity gradually ebbed, and bit by bit she washed up on the shore. As the delicious ripples faded and real time began again, she dragged herself back and sighed on a smile. She needed to take a good deep breath.

Her eyes sprang open.

Oh, God, so must he!

Smothering a whimper, she released her hold. But when he peered up over the length of her body he didn’t look concerned, or the least bit annoyed. In fact, he looked positively pleased as he prowled up on all fours, a sleek-muscled jungle cat stalking its second course.

A strong arm drew her near as, propped up on an elbow, his pure masculine perfection hovered close. ‘Any regrets so far?’

Her heart squeezed.

Yes—but she wouldn’t say it. She didn’t want to even think it. This was the best she’d felt about herself in—well, since for ever. Her regret was that tonight would end; they would say goodbye. They were fundamentally different people, who thought and operated in very different ways. Cooper would find a beautiful agreeable woman who fitted his list, while Sophie Gruebella would carry on with her life.

The silver lining? Hers would be a new life, a metamorphosis, so to speak; tonight had proved that as nothing else could. From this time forward she made her own rules. The husk of ‘pushover Sophie’ would be left behind for ever. She couldn’t wait to see Penny and Kate’s reaction when she saw them next.

Cooper’s voice was so low he sounded as dangerous as he looked. ‘Miss Sophie Schoolteacher? That question requires an answer.’

Her lips curved as she twined her arms around the thick column of his hot damp neck. Thatching her fingers up through the back of his silky black hair, she shook her head. ‘No regrets. No going back. Only forward.’

And, although her body buzzed with deep satisfaction, her sizzling nerve-endings already anticipated the next round. The best was yet to come. Three times, if she was lucky.

As he searched her eyes, his expression changed.

‘You’re beautiful.’

He said it simply, seemingly without artifice, and for a moment the breath caught in her throat. But, come on … She knew what lay behind that statement. Cooper might be alpha, and built, and sexy and rich. He also had a conscience. And right now that conscience told him to be kind to the girl he was about to know in the most intimate way possible.

She traced a fingertip around his cleft chin and lower, to circle his prominent Adam’s apple. ‘I know one thing,’ she murmured.

A faint line brushed between his brows. ‘Tell me.’ All warm inside, she tugged some chest hair and

grinned. ‘I’ll remember this night.’

Returning her smile, he grazed the hard, ready

length of his body against her. ‘You won’t need a

memento?’

She pretended innocence. ‘You could arrange one?’ ‘I do have something you might remember fondly.

Unfortunately you can’t take it with you when you go.’ He found her hand and redirected her attention …

The rest of the night and half the next day, Sophie enjoyed Cooper Smith’s extraordinary hospitality. They didn’t exchange addresses or any personal details. Exactly the way she wanted it. Him too. They’d agreed. They had no future together. This was one night and one night only. Neither needed to pretend to the other it was anything more.

Over the following weeks Sophie thought often of Cooper, but she tried never to dwell on his offhand suggestion of fond remembrances or mementoes. Until one Saturday morning when, alone in her apartment’s bathroom, she gazed at the test stick and her jaw came unhinged.

Pink. Two lines. Positive.

In eight months’ time she would be a parent.

Sophie crumpled back onto the pedestal seat.

And, like it or not, millionaire Mr Smith would be one too.

CHAPTER FOUR

COOPER scowled at the Roman numeral clock above his home office filing drawers and bit down as his stomach muscles clenched.

Eleven-twenty on a late autumn day. His surprise visitor would soon be here. Question was … what did Sophie want so many weeks after the event?

Frowning, he pushed out from his high-backed leather chair, rounded his desk, and absently rearranged a stack of depositions he should have finished assessing that morning. Instead, most of the time he’d merely stared at them in a slightly vexed, preoccupied daze.

The hotel had passed on her message asking him to call. Since their brief phone conversation yesterday, when she’d asked to meet with him here, he’d thought of little else. He loathed wasting time, but this morning he’d been dressed by six, had finished his workout by seven, after which he’d achieved nothing more than washing down endless cups of strong black coffee.

He glanced at the clock.

Eleven twenty-one. Nine minutes to go.

‘Cooper, can you spare a few dollars?’

He jumped at the bright voice at his back, and the depositions scattered across the desk onto the floor. He spun to find his sister, dressed in worn low-slung jeans and a luminous pink midriff top. Her cropped blonde hair was styled to perfection. Shoulder propped against his office doorjamb, she munched on a bowl of rabbit food.

His arms folded over his chest. ‘Is that what’s going to fuel your day? A handful of lettuce?’

She was naturally small and lean, but a person needed sustenance—particularly when she was headed off in two weeks’ time on a students’ overseas exchange programme. The provincial city of Aurillac, France, was known for its chilly mornings. A little natural padding wouldn’t go astray.

Paige arched a brow. ‘And you’ve had … how many cups of coffee already today?’

He suppressed a grin. Smart Alec. ‘We were talking about you.’

She mumbled something like ‘bossy-boots’, then issued a put-upon sigh and pushed off the jamb. ‘Marlo and I will have lunch in between shopping, okay?’

His arms dropped to his sides. ‘More shopping?’

She stared at him, puzzled. ‘Why else would I ask for money?’

He scrubbed at his jaw. ‘Sometimes women’s logic frightens me.’

‘I need to upgrade my BlackBerry,’ she explained, setting her china bowl on the sideboard. ‘Treena Allen says mine is two whole models ago.’

He slid his wallet out from his back chinos pocket as he moved towards her. ‘How much?’

‘A debit card might be easier.’

He didn’t flinch. ‘No doubt it would.’

He handed one over, but she handed it straight back. ‘Not this one.’

He grinned. No flies on Paige.

The card boomeranged back. ‘It has a limit, Paige, but a very generous one. I’m sure you won’t run into trouble.’

Knowing she was beaten, Paige succumbed to give a grateful smile. When she craned up, he bent down to accept a kiss on his cheek. ‘Thanks, Coop.’

No big deal. Hell, if keeping his sister’s techno needs in superior shape was the least of their concerns, he wouldn’t grumble. When she started having trouble with boys, then he’d have something to say.

He blew out a long breath. God, he wished their parents were alive, then he wouldn’t need to say things like this old favourite. ‘No talking to strange men while you’re out today.’

Paige groaned and rolled her eyes. ‘Do we need to go through this every single time?’

While he had her attention, he’d slip in another one. ‘And if anyone tries to pull you into their car, you scream and kick—’

‘And run the other way. I know, Cooper. I know.’ She slotted the plastic into her designer handbag. ‘I’m not a baby.’

He placed his hands on her small, vulnerable shoulders. ‘You’re my responsibility, and I take that responsibility seriously. You might not agree with what I say, but there’s only one boss in this house. While you live under this roof I set the rules, and I expect those rules to be obeyed.’ His voice lost some of its sternness. ‘So, remember … home before dark.’

The doorbell chimed. Her expression alive again, Paige sprang around. ‘I’ll get it.’

Heartbeat slamming into overdrive, Cooper strode past. ‘That’s for me.’

Paige sideswiped his arm as she skipped past and overtook him. Naturally he couldn’t let that offence go unchallenged, and he stepped on the gas. Paige crashed against the timber as they both skidded to a stop in the foyer.

Laughing, Cooper swung open the front door.

Sophie stood on the porch, wide-eyed and stiff.

He’d expected her to be glowing, like the last time he’d seen her. But in dark trousers, a white blouse buttoned to her throat and a black cardigan she looked staid and rather pale. Even her long tousled hair looked unfamiliar, tied back in a high, tight ponytail, though it was still super-sexy, with those haphazard spirals on either side.

But he wouldn’t think along those lines. Sexy or not, no encore was permitted. They were as incompatible as oil and water—bedroom activities obviously excluded.

Paige wheeled in front of him and gasped. ‘What are you doing here?’

Cooper squeezed his sister’s shoulder. ‘Paige, don’t be rude.’ No matter if she thought Sophie was a salesperson who’d ignored the sign at the entry gate. She needed her manners. ‘This lady is here to see me.’

Paige squeaked at Sophie, ‘You know my brother?’

Sophie’s eyes shot wider. ‘Cooper’s your brother?’

Groaning, Paige smacked her forehead. ‘Now it’s coming together. Cooper must be the guy you’ve been getting all dressed up for.’

Sophie shrank into her collar and gave an awkward half-shrug. ‘Who said I was getting dressed up for anyone?’

Paige laughed. ‘It’s kinda obvious. All the girls are saying so. It’s like these past weeks you’ve had a makeover. New clothes, hair down—not like today,’ she noted, inspecting the ponytail. ‘Even the way you walk has changed. It’s fantastic!’

Trying to track the conversation, and now hopelessly lost, Cooper held up his hands. ‘Slow down. Someone fill me in on the missing piece of this puzzle.’

Paige spoke over her shoulder. ‘Ms Gruebella is a teacher at Unity.’

Belated colour bloomed in Sophie’s cheeks, but Cooper didn’t allow his expression to let on either way. If a person had to hide a last name, Gruebella was one worth hiding.

And what about that second lot of information?

‘You’re Ms Gruebella from school?’

He’d imagined a fifty-year-old with wiry hair and Victorian morals. Not a desirable goddess of a woman with a voluptuous body, who had left him sated and then instantly craving more. When he lay down at night her unique vanilla scent flooded his imagination. The vision of her reaching for him gripped and didn’t let go. Instead of their night fading, memories had become stronger, until when he closed his eyes to sleep she was all that he saw.

But he needed only to recall those qualities which could not and would not be ignored for sanity to return. Argumentative, ambivalent about marriage and having children. And let’s not forget her impulsive nature. Of course he took full responsibility for making the first move … the second and third, as well. However, the fact remained she’d fallen into bed with him in record time. Outstanding mistress material? Absolutely. But he wanted a wife, dammit. Not sex on the side.

He half wished he’d known the drawbacks before asking her to dance. He could have saved himself some sleepless nights, as well as what promised to be an awkward meeting today if she planned on breaking their agreement and seeing him again. As much as his body might sit up and respond, this time he would listen to common sense and years of field experience. He had enjoyed their time together, but the answer to any future liaisons would be a resounding no.

He knew best, and this was best for all.

A late model black Mercedes glided up and around the paved circular drive lined with soaring pencil pines. Paige’s friend, Marlo Daniels, popped her head out of the lowering back window. Her large freckled nose scrunched. ‘Is that you, Ms Gruebella?’

Paige wrung her handbag and addressed Sophie. ‘You’re not here over anything we’ve talked about, are you?’

Unease looped in Cooper’s gut. He swung a furrowed glance between the two. ‘And just what have you two been discussing?’

Sophie’s face softened and she touched Paige’s arm. ‘I’m here to see Cooper about something else entirely.’

Paige seemed to think it through before she smiled, her teeth straight and white. Those braces had been worth every dime.

‘Okay. But be good.’ In a running skip, Paige headed off towards Marlo. ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’

As the passenger door closed and the Merc, Mrs Daniels driving, eased off, Cooper swept an arm through the air, ushering his guest in. Damn, she looked hot—

He set his jaw.

But not too hot to resist. When he made a plan he stuck to it. No detours.

Sophie edged in across the threshold. ‘Small world, big school. There are quite a few Smiths. I didn’t put it together.’

He brushed it off. ‘Totally understandable.’

But her visit today had nothing to do with her being Paige’s teacher—although he was grateful to have heard only stellar compliments regarding the mysterious Ms Gruebella. It made his impaired judgement that night seem slightly less unreasonable.

Passing a cosy sitting room, he automatically cupped her elbow. Even through her shirt’s fabric, the powerful physical response sent lit fuses hopscotching across his nerve-endings. The impulse to linger and enjoy the sensation was crushing.

Inhaling deeply, he let go of her arm and slid his hand into his pocket. Small talk needed to be dispensed with.

He walked in step beside her. ‘So, Sophie, keeping well?’

She swept her heavy ponytail over a shoulder and her gaze connected with his. Ah, yes, he remembered those eyes.

‘Pretty much,’ she replied. ‘What about you?’

He shrugged. ‘Trying to keep out of trouble.’

Without a hint of warning, her legs went out from under her. Whipping that hand from its pocket, he wove, and caught her weight as she buckled.

Finding her feet again, with his help, she patted down her hair and nodded at the marble tiles. ‘Must be a slippery spot.’

He assessed first the floor and then his guest through narrowed eyes. They started off again. ‘I’ll have my housekeeper look into it.’

He opened a door that led off to a secluded patio— his favourite place in the grounds, enclosed by mock-orange shrubs, with a goldfish pond to one side. Cooper often came out here to breathe in the unpolluted air, ingest the clear blue sky, and revitalise his sense of order and control. He needed a double dose today.

Stepping out onto the slate, Sophie trailed fingertips along the border of bright green leaves before she lowered herself onto the calico-padded wrought-iron seat he’d retracted.

After dragging in his own chair, Cooper got down to business. ‘When I received your message from the hotel asking me to call you, frankly, I was surprised.’

She avoided his gaze. ‘I hadn’t planned on calling.’

He waited. Cocked his head. ‘Then why did you?’

He hadn’t changed his agenda; he was looking for long-term. Sophie might have been too sweet to leave hanging on the vine, but he had a goal, and sampling her fruit again did not feature. She’d known that as much as he had.

Uncomfortable, she shifted in her chair. ‘It’s a little difficult to explain.’

Was she waiting for him to make the first move? Suggest they should pick up where they’d left off? It wouldn’t happen. He wasn’t buying. No matter how much her curls taunted him, or how much those plump lips he’d kissed till dawn tempted him.

In fact, the sooner this was out, the sooner she would leave—and the sooner they could both get on with their lives.

Of necessity, he injected a grave note into his voice. ‘I thought we agreed that night that we have different agendas.’

Hands clasped in her lap, still avoiding his eyes, she nodded deeply. ‘Yes. Yes, we did.’

Cooper studied her more closely. Was this evasive, almost shy woman the same fireball who had detonated waves of heat through his blood? She still breathed flames over his skin merely by sitting near, clasping and unclasping the delicate hands that had travelled and aroused every inch of him. She was arousing him even now without touching him.

Brow low, knuckles knocking on the armrest, Cooper tossed an aggravated glance around. This setting was too personal. Too convenient. A more public environment would work best. No car blocked his drive so he assumed she’d taken a cab. They should have a civil discussion somewhere neutral, settle up and square off before he dropped her home. Case closed.

He tipped forward. ‘This is a little awkward. I think we should go somewhere else for—’ He’d almost said for coffee. But there was no forgetting what had happened last time he’d suggested that.

Finally finding his gaze, she filled in the blank. ‘Go somewhere for lunch? I am a little hungry. I missed breakfast this morning.’

His thoughts jumped to Paige and her rabbit food, then his own stomach growled.

Her smile spread. ‘Sounds like you did, too.’

His mind hurtled back to ‘the morning after’, when she’d taken great pleasure helping him devour chocolate syrup pancakes. They’d been naked, camped out on the rumpled sheets. He hadn’t meant to drip the chocolate sauce on her thigh, though he sure as hell had enjoyed licking it off.

Slanting forward too, she clenched her white-knuckled hands atop the round table. ‘But, Cooper, I really need to speak with you first. I’m not sure I can wait a minute more.’

He battled to keep the vision of her unclothed curves from his head. Not easy. But do-able. He was in control.

She sucked down a breath, but shot it back out on a nervous laugh. ‘This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to say.’

Her haunted expression … the note of concern in her voice …

The walls of Cooper’s stomach gripped and he slowly frowned.

Was something more at work here than their night together? Was this somehow about Paige after all, and Sophie was reluctant to tell him? Was Paige failing a subject? She’d been struggling with maths, but he’d helped her out. She’d got a B last term.

Paige spoke of Ms Gruebella as a confidante.

Oh, hell.

He forced his mouth to work. ‘Is Paige in trouble?’

Another statistic? A teenage pregnancy?

Sophie chewed her full bottom lip, looking at him from beneath her thick black lashes. ‘Paige isn’t in trouble, Cooper. We are.’

Cooper hadn’t finished expelling a huge sigh of relief before he registered the final part of her answer. A cog turned and he frowned. ‘What did you say?’

Sophie wrung her hands on the tabletop. ‘You know how we didn’t leave the bedroom very much that night … or the next morning?’

Except to go to the couch and the spa bath. There had been that brief time in the pantry, too … He didn’t quite recall how that had happened. Hell, they’d been all over the shop.

She went on. ‘They say condoms are between eighty-five and ninety-seven per cent effective.’

And they’d used a few.

He formed the words to describe the bizarre notion in his mind. ‘We’re pregnant?’

She held up some fingers and a thumb to count. ‘Due in seven months.’

He tried to take it in. His heart was throbbing in his throat. Echoing in his ears. Impossible to believe. This wasn’t in his plan.

She groaned. ‘I know what you’re thinking. You don’t want this complication.’

Complication?

Complication!

She wriggled straighter, truly meeting his eyes for the first time. ‘But I’ve worked it all out. I would never have kept the news from you, but I won’t bother you unnecessarily. You can see the baby whenever you want.’

The other side of the equation popped into mind and he tamped down whirling, exploding disbelief enough to ask, ‘Are you fine with being a mother?’ Last time they’d spoken she’d hadn’t seemed sure.

‘It was a shock at first.’ A small smile played at the corners of her mouth. ‘But, yes, I want this baby very much.’

Well, that had to be good news.

A line grew between her brows. ‘I know you’ll find someone, and soon, who’ll be accepting about this. It’s not the nineteenth century, where we’d keep this kind of situation locked up in a back closet. I’ll get on with my life, you get on with yours, and I’ll make sure the baby and I don’t interfere with your plans.’

He ran a hand through his hair.

Get on with his life? Find someone? As in a wife?

His mind slid left and right like a vehicle skidding on black ice. He needed to get it all straight in his head.

This woman was having his baby. In seven months he would be a father. His child needed its father—not part-time but one hundred per cent. Needed a fully committed mother and father, both. If he knew nothing else, from raising Paige alone he knew that.

The blood drained from his head as he gazed at Sophie—beautiful, sexy, out-for-an-argument, life-is-about-luck Sophie.

His vision blurred and sweat broke out on his brow, down his back.

What the hell could he do? He couldn’t marry her. He couldn’t not marry her either.

Her voice reached him through the haze. ‘It’s a lot to take in, I know. But I’ve looked into it. I’ll take maternity leave. And wonderful childminding options are available for when I go back to work, so it’ll just be a matter of getting settled into a routine.’

He eased out a breath as the news started to sink in. Regaining some balance and strength, he waved a hand. ‘No need for that. You won’t have to work.’ She’d stay at home with the baby. His baby. Their baby.

‘Thank you,’ she said softly. ‘I knew you’d want to help out financially. But I want to go back to work. I won’t give up teaching. It’ll be an adjustment—sure.’ One palm settled over her flat stomach as she smiled. ‘But we’ll be fine.’

Cooper grimaced at the queasy feeling in his gut. One half of him wanted to punch the air with excitement. He’d created a little human being—a son or daughter. After the recent demise of a two-year relationship, he’d harboured niggling doubts that was even possible. But it seemed his ex-girlfriend Evangeline Xiau had been proved wrong. He didn’t fire blanks. Their inability to conceive must have been her issue—which was almost divine justice, given he hadn’t a clue that Evangeline had been trying to fall pregnant until the day she broke it off.

Yet while the man in him rejoiced now, the lawyer wanted to know how he’d escaped one potential trap only to fall into another.

He shook his head at the ground.

He only had himself to blame. He’d had his fun. Enjoyed every moment. No use crying over spilt … Well, no use crying. Fact was he needed to marry a woman who was bound to drive him nuts. He must find a way to make the marriage work. Nothing mattered more. Because no child of his would ever grow up in a single-parent home. His child would not become a statistic.

Reaching across the table, he clasped her hand as a lifeless smile clung to the corners of his mouth. ‘You’re right. We’re going to be fine.’

Clearly relieved, she exhaled. ‘I thought you might hit the roof. You seemed so black and white about things. So needing to be in control …’ She let it go and smiled. ‘So, now that’s out and settled, let’s get that bite to eat. I’m thinking pasta Carbonara with warm crusty bread and chocolate fudge ice cream. Two helpings.’

He’d heard stories about pregnant women. They were known for erratic mood swings as well as cravings. Hormones on top of stubbornness and sparring.

He could hardly wait.

But he’d made his bed. He would be lying in it for a long time to come. He needed to focus on the pluses.

He’d wanted a family. Check.

More than instinct said Sophie would make a good mother. Check.

Paige liked her. Check.

An idea faded up through the fog clouding his mind.

If he kept her busy and satisfied in the bedroom, where they got along best, she might lose the urge to be so objectionable. Happy wife, happy life.

But, first things first. Some arrangements needed to be made.

‘After lunch we’ll visit some jewellery stores.’

Her brow pinched. ‘You’ve lost me.’

‘When two people get engaged, Sophie, they need to choose a ring.’

Eyes wide, she shot to her feet. He pushed up too.

‘Engaged?’ she asked.

Was it truly such a shock? She must have known he’d pop the question. There was little else an honourable man could do.

‘Cooper, I think you’re forgetting something.’

He racked his brains—and then, understanding, took her hands and signed away the rest of his life. ‘Sophie, will you marry me?’

She laughed. ‘Absolutely not.’

Time stood still as he examined her wry expression. He clasped her hands tighter. He was in no mood for her games. This was serious—as serious as it got.

His words were measured, and not to be refused. ‘Of course you’ll marry me. You’re carrying my child.’ He would claim and hold on to it, no matter what it took. They would say their vows, become parents soon after, and everyone would be happy, dammit!

She looked at him as if he’d turned an interesting shade of green. ‘If you’ve forgotten your list, I haven’t. We won’t work together. We both agreed.’

He re-anchored his weight. ‘This changes things.’

‘How?’

‘We have the baby to consider now.’

‘I am thinking of the baby.’

Alternate waves of heat and ice swept over his flesh. ‘This isn’t funny, Sophie.’

‘Am I laughing?’

He found a placating tone. ‘I’ll grant you this is far from ideal. But surely you want your child to have a father.’

‘He will have a father. I just won’t have a husband.’

Teeth clenched, he examined the ground and rubbed his forehead. He was a strategist. He needed a strategy. Winning card first up: something they both agreed upon.

He moved in closer. ‘Stop to consider the obvious benefits.’ He lowered his voice to a sexy growl. ‘Have you forgotten how compatible we are in bed?’

She coughed on a dry laugh. ‘And suddenly sex is supposed to fix things?’

Well, it didn’t make things any worse!

Next. He stood up tall—six-three, last time he’d been measured. ‘I can provide well for the both of you.’

‘You can do that without tying any knots.’

This had gone on long enough. He set his fists low on his hips. ‘I’m not arguing with you. This is non-negotiable.’

She shook her head, bemused. ‘It’s started already.’

He held off from rolling his eyes. Here we go. ‘What’s started?’

‘Having your boundaries and opinions and decisions forced upon me. I have my own mind, Cooper. I have my own dreams. And they’ve never included saying yes to a loveless marriage.’

That last sentence echoed his deeper conviction entirely—but they no longer had the luxury of dreams. ‘We need to make this work for the baby’s sake.’

‘It would be a mistake to even try.’

He would convince her. He would make her see. ‘I’ll make it work.’

‘Just like my parents thought it would work for them?’

His patience warped and creaked. Heart pounding against his ribs, he tried to keep his voice even. ‘What about your parents?’

‘My father and mother only married because they were having me. My dad was determined to do the right thing. My mother hadn’t meant to get pregnant but, seeing she was, she decided my father was it. But they weren’t in love, and love certainly didn’t grow.’ She pivoted away towards the mock-orange bushes. ‘As far back as I can remember I’ve been the mediator. I thought if I found the right guy and lived happily ever after, somehow I could make their mistake half-right.’

His throat swelled. His parents had cherished both him and Paige. ‘I’m sure they don’t think of you as a mistake.’

She slid him a look. ‘I’m talking about them getting hitched for the sake of their child.’

He rolled a shoulder back. ‘What if they’d married and been happy?’

Her grin said she was unconvinced. ‘What if we just agree to disagree?’

Not an option. He needed time to work on her. Some leverage. Anything.

A lightbulb went off in his head. ‘I have another idea.’

‘Does it involve food? Because that’s the only one I’ve liked so far.’

‘We’ll have a trial run.’ Until, that was, he convinced her to be sensible.

Her slim nostrils flared. ‘You’re crazy if you think I’d get married simply to see if we should divorce.’

No, no.

Seeing a light at the end of the tunnel, he ran his hands down her arms. ‘I’m talking about living together.’

He read her eyes, the subtle change in body language at his touch. She was considering it.

But eventually she waved her hands and stepped back. ‘Not interested.’

He shoved his hands in his pockets to stop himself from shaking her. ‘Just for one moment can you stop being difficult? Surely you want to give our baby a chance at having a conventional family.’

Her green eyes glistened. ‘People can start out with the best intentions. Doesn’t mean there’s a rainbow on the other side. You know that.’

Right. He’d go for the jugular. ‘Think of it as an experience. Let’s say a three-month experience that could make a difference to the person you love most … your child.’

She stared at him for a long, torn moment.

‘Three months?’

She was cracking. Good. And, if by some miracle she’d forgotten how their sexual chemistry sizzled, now he would fully remind her.

He drew her near, and the desire they’d shared before plumed in the pit of his stomach. His heart began to beat another rhythm as he remembered the way her limbs had felt twined around him, how she’d murmured his name over and over after he’d tipped her over the edge. He needed her to remember too, to convince her to do this his way. The only way.

Pulling her in by her shoulders, he didn’t kiss her, but rather drank in the lines of her face with his gaze—smooth skin, kissable lips, eyes he still wanted to drown in. He couldn’t see that ever changing.

Gradually the tension bracing her body eased. She didn’t return his embrace, but neither did she push him away. ‘Cooper, where on your list is love?’

His blood stopped flowing before he assured her, ‘As of today I have a new list.’

Her mouth twisted to one side. ‘If that’s supposed to make me feel any better, it doesn’t.’

‘Then let’s try this.’

With great purpose he lowered his head and kissed her, with equal measures of tenderness and meaning. A shower of electric impulses zapped over his skin. Down below, his blood began to stir and heat. For a moment he was back in that room with Sophie in his arms and tomorrow a million light years away.

He needn’t worry about luck. If the way her body quivered and pressed against him now was anything to go by, he had more than enough ammunition to succeed.

Because failure was not an option. He wasn’t accustomed to losing, and before long Sophie would learn to accept that.