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

‘To think I’d have happily gone through life licking rather than sucking. In fact, we should explore that thought a little more.’ He traced a suggestive fingertip up her arm. ‘Ask not what you can do for your ice cream, but what your ice cream can do for—’

‘Almost forgot.’ Before his finger, or temptation, snaked any higher, she cut him off. ‘Penny’s invitation came in the mail today.’

Rocking to one side, she extracted a pink sheet of paper from her back pocket. The other slip of correspondence, which she’d also received that day, accidentally came out too.

Setting the principal’s note aside, she lifted the invitation and put on a snooty voice. ‘“You are invited to Penny Newly’s Hollywood or Bust cocktail party.” ’ She slapped the paper on the table. ‘It’s tomorrow night. What should we go as?’

‘Depends on how daring you want to be.’

Conditioning, perhaps, but she couldn’t think of anything bold. ‘We could go as Clark Gable and Jean Harlow. But we’d have to do something drastic with your ears.’ She thought about pulling the closest one out, wing-nut style. ‘Or what about James Bond? And I could be the girl who holds your golden gun?’

Her cheeks bloomed. Had she truly said that?

Cooper’s smile was pure sin. ‘Consider that tabled for future discussion.’ His attention dropped to the invitation and, next to that, the note. Frowning, he picked up the latter. ‘What’s this?’

Sophie thought about dismissing it, but it was a day for sharing. The first day of at least ninety.

‘I received a message from the school principal today,’ she told him. ‘Seems he’s heard some rumours.’

Cooper’s brow dropped more. ‘About us?’

‘About the baby.’ She shrugged at his questioning look. ‘The only answer I came up with involves the principal’s daughter—a student in my tenth grade English class. Dumb of me, but after they’d all left for final home class, I pulled out a baby’s outfit I’d bought at the mall during my lunch break. I was smiling and hugging it to my belly when Samantha came back to get her sweater.’

He pushed the note back across the table. ‘She passed her suspicions on to her father?’

‘Actually, I think she told her friends. Then it was just a matter of time.’

‘Now the principal wants a “please explain”?’

Trying to keep her anxiety levels down—being upset was not good for the baby—she studied the message. ‘He can’t terminate my employment. The days when teachers had to resign due to “personal circumstances” or marriage are long gone. But if he has a problem with single mothers teaching at Unity he might consider making my life there uncomfortable.’

‘Uncomfortable enough for you to resign?’

She took a moment, then nodded.

Cooper’s face hardened. ‘I’ll talk to him.’

She held up a hand. ‘I’d rather you didn’t.’ Although his protective traits in this instance put a warm glow around her heart, Cooper’s pride might only make matters worse. ‘Anyway, I’m only surmising, thinking the worst.’ She sat back. ‘Might be he merely wants to let me know I have Unity’s unconditional support, should I need it.’

Chocolate ice cream had drained over his fist. Cooper tossed the cone in a nearby bin. ‘Either way, you can tell them as soon as tomorrow to keep their job.’

Sophie pitched her runny ice cream too. ‘Why would I do that?’

‘You don’t need it.’ He leaned forward, and she was hit anew by the searing force of his magnetism. ‘When I said I’d look after you and the baby I’d never meant anything more in my life.’

Conviction shone from his eyes. One part of her couldn’t help but be touched; another couldn’t pretend to accept the offer.

She tried to disentangle herself from his overpowering allure. ‘I told you … I like my job. I like the school.’

He wiped his fingers on the handkerchief he’d removed from his front chinos pocket. ‘You’d like being a lady of leisure just as well.’

Her mid-section pulled. Was he listening at all?

She tried again. ‘I worked hard through college. I love teaching and making a difference. A lot of my friends are teachers there. That’s a huge part of my life, of who I am. I would never give it up.’

He consolidated his case. ‘Only if the principal forces you to.’

Her heart smacked against her ribcage. She refused to feel cornered—by the principal or by Cooper. She had options. ‘Then I’ll get another teaching position.’

Cooper covered her chocolate-smeared fist with the handkerchief and gently wiped. ‘We’ll see.’

A jet of irritation shot through her. There was nothing to ‘see’. She wanted to work. The last thing she needed was to feel indebted to him, or reliant upon his charity, and if she resigned that was precisely what she’d be: a commodity sponsored by Cooper Smith.

If she lost or gave up her job, and didn’t find another, what would that do to their relationship’s balance of power? Living in his house, surviving off his income … Would she then feel obliged to abide by his laws?

How had Paige summed up Cooper’s thinking?

I make the rules, you just have to follow them.

Sophie understood Paige was a teenager—and he wanted to protect her—but did Cooper make any distinction between the two of them as far as that was concerned? Weeks ago she’d decided she would follow her own path, her own rules. She hadn’t changed her mind, and, as much as he wanted to, Cooper wouldn’t change it for her.

He squeezed her hand, determination shining like steel in his eyes. ‘Understand that if and when you need me to step up and speak for us all, I’d like nothing better.’

Sophie understood very well.

That was what worried her.

CHAPTER SEVEN

‘YOU ready?’

Cooper stepped back from Sophie’s closed bedroom door and caught a glimpse of himself in the large teak-edged mirror at the end of his home’s mezzanine floor hall. He frowned. Bare chest, longish scruffy wig, nothing left to the imagination about a pair of hairy muscular legs. Good thing the loincloth concealed the essentials.

Sophie’s melodic voice drifted out. ‘Did you say you’d picked out other costumes this morning, in case these didn’t suit the party tonight?’

He was toying with the novel idea of thumping his expanded pecs when Sophie opened the door a crack. ‘I’ll need a big long coat,’ she said. ‘It’s cold outside, and there’s not a whole lot to this outfit.’

Her face looked fresh. Well, maybe flushed. Her eyes perhaps a touch more than alarmed.

His lungs deflated.

Jungle Fever had sounded ideal when the costume shop assistant had suggested it. Now, however, he wasn’t completely sold on dragging his fists around in public dressed as Tarzan. All the same, he was eager to see how well his pretty mate had fleshed out her animal print.

As he drew closer, her vanilla scent tugged on his senses, and he found himself hurtling back in time. One word summed up that night perfectly: sensational. He planned for the next few weeks to be equally enjoyable.

Starting tonight.

He moved closer. ‘Your friend will have central heating.’ Beyond that, he would do his utmost to keep his Jane warm.

But Sophie hadn’t heard. One set of fingers on the jamb, the other curled around the doorframe, her gaze drifted up and down the length of his body.

A glut of testosterone ran out to alert the team of this latest development. He puffed out his chest a little more.

She wolf-whistled. ‘Don’t know if my friends are ready for that.’

He found her hand and dragged her out. Jungle fever might work, after all.

Surrounded by spiralling dark ribbons of hair, her luminous green eyes stared out. Lower, a slash of faux fur fabric stretched over the ripe swell of her breasts; another adorned her curvaceous hips. Her still slender waist, slightly rounded midriff and shapely legs were left exposed. It was all he could do not to swing her over his shoulder like a sack and whisk her away to his treehouse.

Definitely later.

His bare toes wiggled against the carpet as she tossed back her head to shift a wayward curl hanging over one eye: a clear sign.

He accepted the invitation and reached out to play with her untamed mane. ‘Jane silky soft.’ His index finger trailed over her jaw. ‘Want to throw some leaves around?’

‘Only if they stick and cover some of our birthday suits,’ she said. ‘If I show up like this, I’ll send everyone into fits.’

Physical need coursed through his system. Taking possession of her hips, he gently gyrated the lower strip of cloth as he surveyed the provocative picture before him. ‘Do you have any idea how sexy you are?’

She quit squirming from his hold to peer up into his eyes. She looked maybe half convinced. ‘I am?’

His thumbs pressed the sensitive dips either side of her navel and his pulse began to boom. ‘Penny Newly had better be decked out as Kermit the frog or her envy will show big time. In fact, I have a better idea.’ Drawn like a magnet to a ready supply of molten steel, his hips edged closer. ‘Let’s have our own party.’

She assessed his eyes, the suggestive position of their bodies. Her breasts jostled and unintentionally teased as she wrangled to disengage herself and return to the room.

Cooper’s arms swung down, but the grin didn’t leave his face. She’d chosen the bedroom the greatest distance from his—as if that would keep them apart.

About to walk in and join her, he paused.

He hadn’t thought till this moment, but a lot of stairs led up to this floor—a spiral of open timber boards. Well-positioned strips helped to grip shoes and feet. Nevertheless, the stairs needed to be approached, and descended, with care and respect.

He and Paige were used to them, but their once-a-week housekeeper had had a tumble recently. Thankfully, Joan hadn’t been hurt, but neither was she pregnant. As he’d told Sophie yesterday, he would not take any chances with her condition.

Down the far end of the hall, the top of the handrail seemed to taunt him. Cooper considered again the possible dangers and nodded.

Tomorrow he would move Sophie’s belongings into the guest wing downstairs. He would move into the adjoining suite. By the end of the week they’d be sharing one or the other.

He sauntered into the bedroom.

Standing before a white-lacquered dressing table, Sophie collected an amber bottle and spritzed her hair. When she saw his reflection in the mirror, the tassel on her teensy skirt arced out as she pivoted to face him. She tried to look in control, but the quiver of her bottom lip and saucer-wide eyes were dead giveaways. She wanted him to leave. More so, she wanted him to stay.

She placed a hand on her stomach and raised her chin, defiant even in the face of defeat. ‘I didn’t invite you in.’

His attention dipped to the creamy length of her body—lines drawn by nature’s brush on a very good day. He shrugged and closed the distance between them. ‘Too late.’

When she took a step back, her animal print behind hit the edge of the table. She narrowed one eye at him. ‘You’re not going to start making monkey noises, are you?’

Stopping inches away, he loomed over her. ‘I do feel rather primal.’ He found her palm and rubbed it against his chest hair. ‘What do you think?’

As her own chest rose and fell, he imagined the tips of her breasts tightening to the beads he loved to roll around his tongue. Sweet heaven, he could taste them now.

He was about to gather her in when she dodged around him. She stopped on a pastel-striped rug in the middle of the large room, her back to him, head lowered, hands fisted at her sides. ‘I was surprised last night, my first night here, when you didn’t try anything. You’re making up for it now.’

Legs braced apart, he crossed his arms, enjoying her unease, her anguish, knowing it brought him closer to his goal. ‘You had a big day yesterday. I wanted to give you time to settle in.’

Her reply was openly cynical. ‘A whole twenty-four hours? How magnanimous.’

Arms lowering to his sides, he set off to join her. ‘I might have considered giving you another day, but your costume has affected my thought patterns. I seem to have regressed back to using my primitive brain. I’m registering only two things.’

He ground into her back and let her feel what he meant.

Domination. Desire.

Jaw resting against her crown, he let his palms sail down her arms, ultimately securing her in place right where he needed her. These weeks had been an eternity without her in his bed.

He was about to taste the satin sweep of her shoulder when the purr in her throat turned into a growl. She broke away to face him, cheeks flushed pink, eyes dark with the same depth of passion that surged through his own veins. He felt the smile touch his eyes. This would be easier than he’d first thought.

‘Cooper,’ she begged, an ache in her voice. ‘I can’t think straight when you do that.’

He found a soothing tone. ‘Let me do the thinking.’

Her hands shot up—stop signs. ‘I do not intend to let you use those methods to persuade me to marry you. It’s not fair.’

Sorry. Not a shred of guilt.

She must have seen that her pleas fell on deaf ears. Her voice squeaked as she backed up. ‘We’ll be late for the party.’

He grinned. ‘What party?’

He’d told her this—them—was obviously meant to be. She might not be what he’d set out to find; he was not her ideal match. But damned if they couldn’t make up for it in other ways. She couldn’t argue with him if his mouth was covering hers.

Wary eyes stuck on his, she reversed up towards the opened door. ‘This is crazy.’ Her hand blindly found the handle. ‘I’ve made a decision. These jungle outfits have to go.’

His hand went to his loincloth. ‘All you had to do was ask.’

She jumped. ‘No! I only meant this isn’t going to work. We’re going to that party, no matter what you say or think, but I’m not parading around close to naked in front of anyone—including you. I won’t do it.’

When she practically stamped her foot, Cooper scrubbed his chin. Damn, she was stubborn.

He savoured the vision of his Jane one last time, then ripped the wig from his head and rough-housed his scalp. Best anyway. Aside from the animal instinct, he wasn’t the Tarzan type.

He passed her and crossed out into the hall. ‘You stay here. I’ll get the other costumes. We’ll change, go to the party, and get home to bed by a decent hour.’

She hid behind the frame. ‘We? Bed? No, Cooper. This door has a lock, and I’m not afraid to use it.’

He smiled. As if that would keep him out.

But he’d feed her fantasy. In fact, a better strategy might be to withhold his affections. Give her time to realise just how much she wanted to revisit their night—again and again. She already knew his take on the situation: they should get to know each other more. Sharing a bed was the obvious place to start. Once he had her there, everything else would fall into place.

With that in mind, he constructed a suitable reply. ‘I meant we should go to bed at a decent hour so you can get your rest. Perhaps we could get up early for a dip?’ She’d seemed interested in the heated pool yesterday, when he’d shown her the grounds.

‘How early is early?’ she wanted to know, still on her toes. ‘I’m on a timetable all week. Sunday’s my day to sleep in.’

Ah, at last. Something they could agree on. ‘How’s eight sound?’

Her face pinched. ‘I’m thinking more late morning.’

She unclasped the heavy beads hanging around her neck and they fell into her cleavage. His loincloth flexed, but he set his jaw. He’d decided slow and steady would win this race.

‘I usually stay up late to watch the mysteries on cable Saturday night,’ she explained, rescuing the beads from between her breasts—as if that action wouldn’t aggravate a man in his condition.

Then he realised what she’d said. Mysteries were by no means his favourite. There were great alternatives. ‘I prefer Union.’

‘Civil war movies?’

He blinked at her. How did that connect? ‘I mean football.’

Her expression didn’t budge. ‘You like football?’

‘Most guys like football.’

‘I’m not a guy.’

Obvious. So was her unimpressed state. Easily fixed. ‘When you want to watch Agatha and I want to watch the Wallabies, there are plenty of televisions to go around. Two upstairs, three downstairs.’

She arched a brow. ‘You watch a lot of TV?’

If he said he did, she’d only say she didn’t. Watching television was the last thing on his mind.

He snatched a look at his wristwatch. ‘Look at the time.’

She straightened. ‘Leave the costume on the handle,’ she said, closing the door, ‘and I’ll see you downstairs in five. I hate being late.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

‘YOU’RE a late person, aren’t you?’

Sophie frowned at the analogue clock on the dashboard as Cooper navigated the western suburb streets. Eight-forty-five. Penny’s invitation had said seven.

She watched lamppost shadows chase over Cooper’s classically chiselled profile as he replied. ‘Only in so far as time is concerned.’

Sophie refrained from exhaling heavily. Late people drove her insane.

‘Don’t you have to meet with clients and be in court at specific times?’ she asked. ‘Surely you can’t be late for appointments?’

‘I compensate.’

‘How? You make excuses? Buy gifts?’

He flicked her a got-it-covered look. ‘I set my electronic reminder to go off thirty minutes before time. I also set my watch seven minutes early.’

Uh-huh.

‘You don’t get mixed up?’

He turned the wheel. ‘Never.’

She thought about pointing out how crazy it all sounded, but if she had a right to be herself, she guessed he did too. This trial wasn’t supposed to be about who was right or wrong, but rather the grey area in between—what worked as individuals as well as a couple. Not that she had any real faith that two people as different as they were could find enough space ‘in between’ to make a go of marriage.

Given their current highly sensitive states, wearing next to no clothes—particularly animal print—wouldn’t work. Although feeling Cooper’s loincloth pressed up against her hadn’t been unpleasant. In fact, his fiery hands on her arms, his hot breath on her neck, had felt deliriously good.

So good she’d almost surrendered.

But if they became intimately involved again, she wouldn’t be able to see the forest for the trees. He’d charm her into marriage and then, for better or worse, she’d be stuck. Divorce was an out, she supposed, but how would she fare in court? Cooper was a respected expert in divorce and custody issues. No. Best not to go there.

If they married, Cooper would still carry on with his life his way. No one and nothing could stop him. But she wanted to make her own choices too. Could she ever hope to do that married to a man like Cooper? She had intelligence and options. She didn’t need to get married—and certainly not for convenience’s sake.

A single-parent household wasn’t the ideal, but their baby would be better off in that situation than with two parents who couldn’t get along. Sophie needed only to remember her own childhood to be certain of that. How often had she wished her parents would admit that everyone’s lives would benefit, not suffer, if they lived apart? They were still gritting their teeth, doing the ‘right thing’—as if Auntie Louise and her father’s friends at the bowling club wouldn’t rather they separate and be happy individuals.

And if on Monday morning Mr Myers, the principal, suggested that wedding bells might save the school some embarrassment, then, as she’d told Cooper, she wouldn’t waste her energies fighting but would rather find another job. Plenty of schools would happily hire a motivated and caring teacher who happened to believe she had a right to be a single mother too. Thank heaven most schools weren’t stuck in the Dark Ages.

They found a parking space within walking distance from Penny’s single-storey brick house. Cooper’s thumb grazed a button on the steering wheel and the CD noise was shut off. Sophie eased out a breath. That particular blues collection was so not her favourite.

From the console, Cooper claimed the defining piece of his costume. He left the car and a moment later swung open her passenger side door. Before her stood Erik, super-sexy Phantom of the Opera.

After realigning his simple white mask, which covered only half his face, he swirled and flicked his long black cape. His Transylvanian accent was impressive. ‘How do I look?’

She grinned. She loved this lighter side of his personality.

She accepted his leather-gloved hand and eased out into the cool night air. ‘Wrong horror movie. You’re doing vampire central.’

He glossed a hand over his slicked-back hair. ‘I thought at a pinch Mr Hyde …’

Cooper was no angel, but Sophie didn’t want to think about him being that brutish.

She shook her head. ‘Sorry. That voice is not Phantom, not Hyde. Definitely Dracula.’

Taken by surprise, she squealed when he tipped her back forty-five degrees. His nose rested one side of hers. ‘That could fit in nicely with my new sucking preference.’

His fresh-mint breath and the rumble in his chest almost undid her, but she wouldn’t let him know her bones had already begun to dissolve and she’d like nothing better than to feel his teeth dance over her skin.

Light-headed, she managed to push out a rebuke. ‘Put the fangs away, Drac-boy.’

With a flourish, he swept her back onto her feet. ‘You’re no fun tonight, Christine. That costume is misleading.’

She smoothed the nineteenth-century replica peignoir which covered her corset and white stockings. Her hairstyle hadn’t changed from Jane’s—long, curly, loose.

He looped her arm through his and, bathed in the golden glow of the full moon hanging in the Southern Cross sky, meandered up the sidewalk.

He checked his watch. ‘A couple of hours should wrap this up.’

She started. ‘We haven’t even said hello yet!’

Jaw tight, he tampered with his cravat. ‘I’m not much for parties.’

Or was it that he was eager to get her back home?

However, Sophie could admit she wasn’t much for party small talk either. Nothing worse than those long awkward pauses with someone you’d only just met. Except when they stole a glance over your shoulder to see who might rescue them.

However, that wouldn’t be a problem tonight. ‘These are my friends.’

‘Hopefully not all as transparent as dear Penny.’

Sophie cringed. Would Cooper like her friends? Nowadays she more often went out with her teacher friends than anyone here tonight, but irrespective of that … would Cooper be the kind of husband who backed a girls’ night out? Or would he turn into a leave-’em-pregnant-and-barefoot type?

And what about that? Maybe he wanted a dozen children? She hadn’t thought past one. Not that they were getting married. They were not getting married. It was impossible.

Wasn’t it?

Pocahontas—aka Penny—opened the door. On seeing Phantom, her face, between the long black braids, lit up. Her full lips slanted.

‘My John Smith couldn’t make it.’ She acknowledged Sophie briefly. ‘Mind if I borrow yours?’

‘The name’s Cooper Smith,’ he reminded her politely.

‘Cooper. Of course.’ Penny’s white moccasins and endless tanned legs made way as she gestured them through into her party-in-full-swing abode. Somewhere nearby a champagne cork popped and cheers went up. ‘Care for a cup of my special punch, Cooper? It packs quite a—’ She blushed. ‘Well … punch.’

Cooper’s smile managed to be both dazzling and thin. ‘I’m sure Sophie would enjoy one too.’

Sophie didn’t have to think this time. Purely for Penny’s sake, she gave Cooper a private smile. ‘We did work up quite a thirst this afternoon—didn’t we, hon?’