Читать книгу One-Amazing-Night Baby!: A Wild Night & A Marriage Ultimatum / Pregnant by the Playboy Tycoon / Pleasure, Pregnancy and a Proposition - Heidi Rice, Anne Oliver - Страница 14

‘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.’