Beach Bar Baby (13 page)

Damn, he wanted her again: that lush mouth on his, those hard nipples grinding against his chest, the hot, wet heat gripping him like a velvet glove.

And he was pretty damn sure she wanted him too.

He could smell her arousal, the spicy scent of her need, ever since she’d climbed into the cab and sat stiffly in the far corner, as if she was worried she’d spontaneously combust if she got too close.

She still fascinated him, and excited him. And even though he kept telling himself hooking up with her again had the potential to turn this mess into a total disaster—another part of him was thinking this mess couldn’t get much bigger if it tried. So why should they deny themselves? Only problem was, he wasn’t sure if that part of him was the part that was supposed to be doing the thinking, or a part that was positioned a lot further south.

He had to admit he was also very curious, as well as kind of touched, by her reaction when she’d discovered the truth about Dive Guys and his wealth. Wouldn’t most women feel entitled to hit him for some kind of compensation? Especially once they found out how much he was worth? Instead of that she’d ‘needed time to adjust’? What was with that? One thing, it sure didn’t make him feel any better about having accused her of setting him up.

He poured the last of his cola into his glass, took a long swig to buy himself some time and figure out what to do now.

She hadn’t said anything, the expectation in her face tempered by wariness. As if she was worried about what he was going to say, but determined to put the best possible spin on it.

‘The way I see it, Ella,’ he began, acknowledging that it was definitely a strike in his favour that she was so easy to read, ‘however this happened, we’re both going to be parents of the same kid. And you’re right, we don’t know nearly enough about each other.’ He let his eyes wander over her torso, vindicated by the bullet points thrusting against the tight cotton of her T. ‘Except in the most basic sense.’ He slugged down the last of the cola, and let the cool caffeinated liquid soothe his parched throat. ‘How about you come back to Bermuda for a couple of weeks?’ The offer came out of his mouth before he’d really had a chance to consider it, but it instantly felt right when her eyes lit up with delighted astonishment. ‘And while you’re there we can iron out how we’re going to handle stuff once the kid’s born.’

‘You want to be involved? In the baby’s life?’ She sounded so overjoyed, he had to bite the inside of his mouth to keep from grinning back at her. Was it really going to be that easy?

‘Of course I do. It’s my kid too, isn’t it?’

‘Well, yes. Yes, it is.’ She flattened her hands across her abdomen, in that protective gesture that he was beginning to realise was entirely instinctive. And totally genuine.

His heartbeat slowed at the evidence of how much the baby meant to her already, even though it was probably no bigger than a shrimp. Then fluttered uncomfortably, at the knowledge that his child was unlikely to ever mean that much to him.

He could do responsibility, and loyalty, and commitment, up to a point. But the kind of blind faith and trust you needed to care about someone more than you cared about yourself? Forget it. He knew he’d never be able to do that again.

* * *

‘What on earth do you mean you’re going to Bermuda?’ Ruby stared. ‘For how long?’

‘I’m not sure, probably only a fortnight. He suggested I get an open ticket, but I doubt it’ll take longer than that.’ Although she had to admit she’d been impossibly touched when he’d sounded concerned that two weeks might not be enough time to sort out ‘all the baby stuff’.

‘Are you completely bonkers?’ Ruby propped her hands on her hips, the belligerent stance one Ella recognised.

‘He’s invited me and I think it’s a good idea.’ She sprinkled edible pink glitter onto the swirl of buttercream icing. And placed the finished cupcake onto the tower she was assembling for a nine-year-old’s birthday party, refusing to make eye contact with her friend. She’d expected this reaction. It didn’t mean she was going to enjoy dealing with it. She hated arguing with Ruby. ‘We’re having a child together. I’d like him to be involved if he wants to be, but I need to know a lot more about him to make that a realistic possibility. Especially as we live so far apart.’ She’d thought it all out, and it all made perfect sense.

Ruby tapped her foot. ‘So why can’t he stay in London so you can sort all that out here?’

Ella sighed, and wiped sugary hands on her apron. ‘He has a business to run.’

‘So do you.’ Ruby went straight for the jugular.

‘I know it’s not a good time.’ Ella faced her friend, and shook off the sting of guilt. They were already having to take out a loan to cover the extra staffing costs while she went on maternity leave, but... ‘It will be good for Sally and Gemma to have a trial run with you supervising before I have the baby and I’ve got enough saved to cover the cost of their wages while I’m away.’

‘You know very well this has nothing to do with the money,’ Ruby pointed out. ‘What about your antenatal appointments? What if something happens with the baby?’

‘Coop’s arranged for the top obstetrician on the island to handle my care while I’m there.’ Even if he had gone a little pale when she’d mentioned the problem. ‘But it’s unlikely to be more than a couple of weeks. I’ll still only be four months when I get back.’

‘Fine, well, now for the biggie.’ Ruby threw up her hands in exasperation. ‘What about the fact that Cooper Delaney is a complete jerk who accused you of being a gold-digger, and a liar and had you in floods of tears less than twenty-four hours ago? How do you know you can trust him not to be a jerk again once you’re stuck in Bermuda with him?’

I don’t.

Ella pushed away the doubt. He’d lost the plot when she’d told him about the baby, but he’d apologised for that and she knew he meant it. And anyway, this really wasn’t about her. ‘He’s the father of my child and he’s giving me a chance to get to know him better. Surely you can see I have to take it?’

‘Umm-hmm. And you don’t find it the tiniest bit suspicious that twenty-four hours after totally flipping out about this pregnancy he suddenly wants to be so intimately involved in it...’ Ruby paused for effect ‘...and you.’

‘Maybe.’ Of course she’d thought about it. After the initial euphoria at his offer, she’d calmed down enough to realise his sudden interest in the baby might not be the only reason he’d asked her to come to Bermuda.

But that didn’t alter the fact that he was the father of her child. And she did want him to be involved. And that going to Bermuda was the only way to find out if they could make that happen.

‘You’re absolutely determined to do this, aren’t you?’ Ruby sounded pained.

‘Yes.’

Ruby cursed sharply, defeated. ‘I guess it’s my own fault. If I hadn’t interfered and encouraged you to nail Captain Studly in the first place, you wouldn’t be in this situation.’

Ella grasped Ruby’s cheeks, forcing her gaze back to hers. ‘What situation? Getting the chance to have a child of my own? Getting to experience the miracle of becoming a mum? Something I was sure would never be possible? That situation?’

Ruby sent her a lopsided smile. ‘Okay, point taken. But do me a favour, okay?’

‘What favour?’

‘Don’t let all your happy over the pregnancy blind you to the truth about what’s really going on with him. You have a tendency to always want to see the best in people, Ella. And that’s one of the things I love about you. But try to be a little bit cautious this time.’

‘If this is about what happened with Randall, you don’t have to worry.’ Ella threaded her fingers through Ruby’s and held on. ‘I’m not going into this blind. I learnt that lesson when I was eighteen I’ll never fall in love that easily again.’ She’d made that mistake with Randall, and her baby had paid the price. ‘But I refuse to go into this scared either.’

She needed to take some risks, to solve the fascinating enigma that was Cooper Delaney. A man who had the laid-back, laconic charm of a beach bum, but had the drive and ambition to build a multimillion-dollar empire from nothing. A man who could worry about the child growing in her womb when they made love, and yet look at her with a hunger that burned right down to her soul.

She wanted to understand him—to know how he really felt about this pregnancy and this baby and her—but only so he could play an active role in her child’s life.

She wasn’t looking for anything else. She was sure of it.

NINE

‘How was
the trip?’ Coop reached in to grab her suitcase as Ella stepped out of the air-conditioned taxi into the sheltered carport rimmed by palm trees and flowering vines at the back of his property.

She fanned her face with the wide-brimmed straw hat she’d bought at the airport as the afternoon heat enveloped her. Bermuda in April had been in the mid-seventies and pleasantly hot; in late July it was hitting the high eighties and seemed to be sucking the life-force right out of her tired limbs.

‘Good. Thank you.’ She huffed to stop her sweaty hair sticking to her forehead as Coop paid the driver and waved him off.

The truth was it had been better than good, when she’d arrived at Gatwick Airport to discover the economy class ticket she’d insisted on purchasing herself, despite several terse emails from Coop before she left London, had been upgraded to first class. The added benefits of a three-course cordon bleu meal and a fold-down bed had made the eight-hour flight pass in a haze of anticipation. But now she was here, the impact of seeing him again was making the crows of doubt swoop like vultures in her stomach.

‘I appreciated the upgrade, but you really didn’t need to do that.’ She wanted to make it absolutely clear she did not expect him to bankroll her.

Picking up her suitcase, he slung her carry-on bag under his arm. ‘Sure I did.’ His gaze skimmed down to her midriff before he sent her an assured grin. ‘No baby of mine travels coach.’

The vultures in her stomach soared upward to flap around her heart and she stood like a dummy, stupidly touched by the reference to their child.

‘Come here.’ Resting his hand on her waist, he directed her towards the wooden steps that led out of the carport and into the back of the house. ‘Let’s get you out of this heat.’

The stairs led to the wide veranda of a white, wood-framed house that rose from the grove of palms to stand on a rocky outcropping. She’d admired the modern, two-storey colonial structure as they wound down the drive from the main gate. Up close, the building was dominated by the large windows covered by louvred shutters. The house appeared cool and airy even before they stepped off the veranda into a palatial, high-ceilinged living area that opened onto a wraparound porch, which looked down onto the cove below.

Dumping her bag and suitcase at the base of a curving staircase that led to the second level, Coop leaned against the balustrade and smiled. In a faded red and black Bermuda College T-shirt and ragged jeans, his bare feet bronze against the oak flooring, he looked more like the beach bum she remembered than the suited executive she’d found so intimidating in London.

‘So what do you think? Better than the hut, right?’

She swung round to take in the view and give herself a moment to regain the power of speech. Expensive, luxury furnishings—including a couple of deep-seated leather sofas, a huge flatscreen TV, a bar framed in glass bricks and a walled fireplace—adorned the tidy, minimalist living area. She stepped through the open doors onto the deck, hoping that the sea breeze would cool the heat rising up her neck. And spotted the edge of an infinity pool, sparkling on the terrace below the house. Steps carved into the stone led down through the grove of palms and banana trees, probably to the beach at Half-Moon Cove.

The cosy, ramshackle beach hut where they’d conceived their child had to be down there somewhere—but felt light years away from the elegance of his real home.

‘It’s incredibly beautiful. You must have worked very hard to earn all this in under a decade.’

He joined her on the deck, resting his elbows on the rail beside her hip and making her heartbeat spike.

‘So you’ve been checking up on me?’

She studied the sun-bleached hair on his muscular forearms—lost for words again.

She’d expected to be a little intimidated by his wealth—especially after the first class travel over. She hadn’t expected to feel completely overwhelmed. Not just by the staggering beauty of his home, but by him too. And the staggering effect he still had on her.

‘The Internet is a glorious thing,’ she murmured.

Unfortunately all the articles and news clippings about the meteoric rise of his business had contained virtually no information about his personal life. Or his past—bar a few photos of him escorting model-perfect women to island events. And once she’d discovered those, her enthusiasm for playing Nancy Drew had waned considerably.

‘The journalist from
Investment
magazine said you were the Rags-to-Riches King of the Islands,’ she said. ‘She seemed very impressed with your business model.’ And not just his business model, Ella had decided, from all the detailed prose about his muscular physique and sparklingly intelligent gaze.

The grin as he glanced her way was quick and boyish. ‘Yeah, I remember her. As I recall she hit on me.’

‘I’m not sure I needed to know that,’ she blurted, before getting control of the sting of jealousy.

He straightened away from the rail. ‘Just so you know, I didn’t hit on her back.’ He skimmed a knuckle down her cheek. ‘I like to be the one doing the chasing.’ He tucked his finger under her chin. ‘Except when it comes to pretty little English cougars who go trawling in beach bars.’

Her pulse sped up to thud against her neck, and the spot between her thighs melted. ‘I didn’t come back to Bermuda to hit on you again,’ she said, trying hard to sound as if she meant it. Sleeping with him would only distract her from the real reason she was here.

He clasped the rail on either side of her hips, boxing her in.

‘Then how about I hit on you?’

She gasped as he pressed warm, firm lips to her neck. Lust shot through her like a jolt of electricity—connecting the soft tissue under her chin to the bundle of nerves that lay dormant in her sex.

Except, it wasn’t dormant any more.

The sensations spread like molten lava, incinerating everything they touched as he explored her mouth in bold, determined strokes.

She sucked on his tongue, savouring the tangy flavour of him, the groan of desperation. Her fingers flexed against the lean muscles of his abdomen as roughened palms stroked under her blouse. His fingers wrapped around her waist to yank her closer. She shuddered, her sensitive, pregnancy-engorged breasts pressed against the hard wall of his chest.

Sure fingers cupped her breast, then tugged at one hard peak and hot need arrowed down to her sex, the desire erupting like a volcano.

‘Wait, Coop.’ She wrenched herself free. ‘Please, stop a moment. I need...’ She sucked in a breath, her lungs on fire, alongside the rest of her. ‘I didn’t come for this.’

Did she?

But as his heavy-lidded gaze met hers the heady rush that had been lapping at her senses ever since the car had pulled up to the house surged.

‘So what?’ He clasped her hand, and headed for the staircase.

He took the stairs two at a time. She could have resisted, could have told him no, but instead she found her feet racing to keep up with him.

He led her into a wide room on the first floor, with a huge four-poster bed draped with gauzy white curtains, and double doors that opened out onto a veranda.

He tugged her into his arms. ‘I want you,’ he murmured, his voice so low she almost couldn’t hear it above the distant sound of the ocean, and the pounding in her eardrums. ‘You want me.’ His gaze dropped to her midriff. ‘We’ve made a kid together. Why shouldn’t we do this?’

She couldn’t find a coherent response as the desperate desire to be touched, to be taken in that wild way only he seemed capable of, consumed her.

He jerked off his T-shirt, kicked off his jeans, and then wrestled off her clothes before lifting her, naked and yearning, onto the bed.

Her hands splayed across his wide chest, sank into the blond curls of hair across his nipples. She had to slow him down. Get her mind to engage.

Ruby had warned her not to get distracted, not to fall straight into bed with him. And here she was, less than an hour off the plane and already naked and willing.

‘Shouldn’t we think about this?’ She struggled to hold him back, but the question broke on a soft sob as he cupped her mound. Blunt fingers probed the slick flesh, gliding over the perfect spot.

She bucked, cried out, pleasure radiating across her skin.

The light in his eyes became feral in its intensity. ‘You’re soaking wet, Ella. What’s there to think about?’

Her breath rasped out as he stroked her into a frenzy, caressing the burning nub. Then rolled her over onto her stomach. Raising her hips, he positioned her on all fours, the thick erection nudging her entrance.

‘I’ll be gentle.’ He lifted her hair off her neck, cradled her body with his to nip her shoulder. ‘I promise.’ Her heavy breasts swayed and he captured them, holding her steady. ‘Now tell me you don’t want this as much as I do?’

‘You know I do.’ She moaned, stretched unbearably, as he plunged. Her pulse thundered like an express train in her ears.

Need and desperation pummelled her. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, the coil yanking tight inside her as he began to move. Pulling out, thrusting back, going impossibly deep, the rhythm torturously slow but steady, relentless, stealing her breath. Her hands fisted in the bedclothes, her body battered by the building waves of pleasure. Sure fingers squeezed her nipples, then he reached down, to open her folds and touch the too-sensitive nub of her clitoris.

Pain and pleasure combined as he shot her to peak. The titanic wave crashed over her as his rhythm built and accelerated. She heard him shout, getting even bigger inside her, before the hot seed pumped into her. He let her go at last and she collapsed onto the bed, her body shaky, her mind dazed, her heart pounding against her ribs with the force and fury of a wrecking ball.

She rolled away from him, feeling stupidly fragile. ‘You didn’t use any protection,’ she murmured.

‘Not much point now. That horse has already bolted.’ He whispered the words against her ear as his forearm wrapped around her waist and his body cradled her. ‘You okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I? I was trying to be gentle but I got kind of carried away towards the end.’

She shook her head, struggling to talk round what felt like a wad of cotton wool in her throat. ‘No. It felt good.’ And scarily intense.

One large hand cupped her breast, his thumb grazing the sensitive nipple. She flinched, the stiff peak too tender for attention.

‘I’m sorry.’ His thumbs drew back, to trace slow circles around the areola, avoiding the tip. ‘The plan wasn’t to jump you straight off. But I’ve missed you.’

‘The plan...’ She lurched onto her back, dislodging his hand. ‘You planned this?’

‘Yeah. I guess so.’ He propped himself up on an elbow to look down at her, his gaze roaming over her face. ‘Why? Is that a problem?’

‘I don’t know.’ She tried to gather her thoughts and make sense of them, while the rush of afterglow still pumped through her system. ‘I just thought...’

‘What? That this wouldn’t happen?’ He brushed his fingers across her forehead, tucked the tendrils of hair that had escaped her updo behind her ear. ‘Honey, I figure whenever we’re on the same continent it’s sort of inevitable. So why fight it?’

It wasn’t the answer she had been looking for, the one she thought she should have wanted. But as soon as he said it she knew it was the truth.

‘Yes, but...’ She stared at him. ‘That really isn’t the reason I came here.’

‘So why did you come?’

With her sex still aching from the intensity of their lovemaking, her breasts tender from the pinch of his fingers, and emotion coursing through her system, the answer didn’t come as easily as it had when she had been lying in that fold-down bed across the Atlantic.

‘To get to know you,’ she murmured. ‘To find out if you want to be a dad. How involved you want to be. I don’t want sex to complicate that.’

‘To complicate it?’ He chuckled. ‘The way I see it, sex is pretty much the only simple thing there is about all this. And we’re good at it.’ He shrugged, his gaze flicking to her midriff. ‘We’re going to have to work on the other stuff, because I don’t have any easy answers for you there.’

For a moment he looked lost, and the lump of emotion became impossible to swallow down. Was she pushing him too hard, expecting too much, by being here?

‘You don’t know how you feel about the baby?’ she asked, feeling foolish and a little ashamed of her naivety. Why had she been so quick to assume his decision to invite her here meant he must already have feelings for the baby? He’d been thrown into this situation against his will. Of course he’d be confused, maybe even a little resentful.

‘Not really.’ He flopped back on the bed, stared at the canopy above their heads. ‘All I know is I don’t want to mess up, like my old man did.’

She turned to him, ready to probe a little. ‘How did your father mess up?’

His gaze locked with hers and for a moment she thought she saw something, but then it flicked away again. ‘By not being there, I guess. I never met him. It was just my mom and me.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Her heart sank at the defensive ‘don’t go there’ tone. And the news that he had been abandoned as a child by his own father. No wonder he’d reacted so violently to the news of her pregnancy. Had the horror she’d thought she’d seen been nothing more than blind panic?

She touched his forearm. ‘You’re not like that. If that’s what you’re worried about? Because you’re already trying to do the right thing.’

He looked at where her fingers touched his arm, then up at her face, his expression blank now and unreadable. ‘You always this much of an optimist?’

His tone was flat, but she refused to let it bother her.

‘I try to be,’ she said, smiling. ‘I don’t consider that a bad thing.’

She wanted this child; he was still coming to terms with the fact of it. She had to remember that. Give him time. And space. And not give up hope. His cynicism made complete sense, now she’d had that brief glimpse into his childhood.

‘So, what was your mother like?’ she asked.

He shook his head, smiling back at her. ‘Forget it, Little Miss Sunshine. How about you tell me something about your folks, first? I don’t see why I have to do all the talking.’