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 8

‘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.’