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He didn’t have the first clue what he was supposed to do about the bomb she’d just exploded in his nice, easy, island life. Correction: his formerly nice, easy, island life. Fatherhood was something he hadn’t planned for and didn’t know a damn thing about.
And he hated not knowing, because it reminded him too much of his childhood. The dead weight of responsibility, the relentless pressure of being constantly trapped without a way out and that terrifying feeling of insecurity, of never knowing if he would be strong enough, smart enough, man enough to make things right for his mom.
He didn’t want to live through all that again. And he hated that he would have to now.
And because of that he’d panicked yesterday, when Ella had told him her news—and had dropped a pretty big bomb on her in return.
Because however much he might want to blame all this on Ella, he knew now—once he’d taken the time to examine all the facts—that he couldn’t. He also knew he couldn’t just walk away from his own kid and forget about it—the way she’d suggested—because that would make him no better than his old man. And he was pretty sure he couldn’t do that and live with himself afterwards.
All of which left him with only one option. Suck it up, stop whining about what he couldn’t change and try to deal with it.
And the only way he could do that was to deal with Ella first.
Forcing the trademark ‘never-let-them-see-you’re-scared’ smile he’d perfected as a kid onto his lips, he pushed open the door. But as Ella’s gaze locked on his and her eyes went wide with distress his step faltered, his heartbeat stumbled and the thickening in his throat got a hell of a lot worse.
* * *
‘Coop?’ Ella bit into her lip, the tremor of shock and anxiety almost as overwhelming as the wave of relief.
She’d never expected to see him again, had convinced herself that his angry departure was for the best. She’d told herself over and over again during a long night spent on the phone to Ruby, and then lying in bed staring at the crack in her ceiling, that she couldn’t make Coop want to be a father—any more than she could make him forgive her for something she hadn’t done. So it would be pointless and futile to contact him again.
‘We need to talk,’ he said, his deep voice slightly strained but with none of the explosive anger from their last encounter. ‘Can you take a break?’
She nodded, too stunned to speak, then glanced round the shop to locate her business partner. Ruby stood chatting to a young couple to whom she’d just delivered a couple of chai lattes. But then her head came up and she spotted Coop. All traces of the genial hostess disappeared as she marched back across the café.
‘What do you want?’ Ruby stepped behind the counter to stand shoulder to shoulder with Ella. ‘Haven’t you done enough?’
‘I’m here to talk to Ella, honey, not you,’ Coop said, the casual tone in direct contrast to the challenge in his eyes.
‘Well, “honey”...’ Ruby sneered the endearment, squaring up for a fight ‘...you’re going to have to go through me to get to her after the immature way you behaved yesterday.’
‘It’s okay, Ruby.’ Ella touched her friend’s arm, emboldened by her support—even if it was counterproductive right now.
The last thing she wanted was for Coop to find out how much his accusations had hurt her, or how she’d dissolved into a quivering wreck after his departure. Showing that kind of weakness would only put her on the defensive. ‘Coop’s right—we need to talk. Is it okay if I take a few minutes?’
‘Are you sure?’ Ruby asked.
‘We’ll need more than a few minutes to sort this mess out,’ Coop interrupted before she could reassure her friend. ‘I’ve got a car waiting outside to take us back to my hotel, so we can have some privacy.’
This mess.
Ella’s heart shrank. Her baby wasn’t a mess. But if that was the way Coop saw it, then sorting out his involvement—or rather the lack of it—would be fairly clear cut. And she supposed she should be glad that he seemed prepared to do that much.
‘Why do you need privacy?’ Ruby interrupted again. ‘So you can shag her and then have another temper tantrum like a two-year—’
‘Ruby, please, don’t.’ Ella raised her voice, grateful for the spark of indignation. ‘I’ll be fine. All we’re going to do is talk.’ She wasn’t about to make the mistake again of believing the strong physical attraction between them meant an emotional connection too.
She really didn’t know this man. His volatile reaction last night had proved that. This ‘talk’ would be a chance to find out more about him—while also reassuring him that her expectations of him were zero as far as the baby was concerned.
Ruby continued to eyeball Coop for several pregnant seconds, but, instead of rising to the provocation, he grinned.
‘You heard the lady.’ He slung his hands in his pockets, the picture of nonchalance as he raised an eyebrow, the challenge unmistakable. ‘All we’re going to do is talk.’ His gaze landed on Ella and the unwanted hum of awareness seared through her body. ‘This time.’
* * *
‘How are you? Is everything okay with the kid?’
Ella turned, to find Coop watching her from the opposite side of the cab as it crawled down Camden High Road. After persuading Ruby that she was woman enough to handle a private chat with her baby’s father, she’d been careful to seat herself as far away as possible from him. But the tentative enquiry and the flicker of concern knocked her off balance again.
‘Yes, everything’s good.’
‘I just wondered because...’ he paused to clear his throat, looking more uncomfortable than she’d ever seen him ‘...I was kind of rough with you. In your apartment. You know, before you told me.’
She blinked, puzzled. He hadn’t been rough, not until after he’d heard the news and then only verbally. But then it dawned on her what he was referring to. Their frantic lovemaking against the wall. The blush climbed into her cheeks and heat pulsed in her sex at the visceral memory. While a matching, much more dangerous warmth tugged under her breastbone.
‘Oh, no, everything’s fine, really. Sex isn’t a problem in pregnancy—as long as we don’t start breaking furniture it should be okay.’ The blush launched up to her hairline as it occurred to her what she had implied. ‘Not that we’re likely to be...well, you know.’
The sensual smile was even more unsettling. ‘Yeah, I get it.’ He tapped his fingers against his knee. ‘Listen, I owe you another apology.’
She struggled not to be seduced by the smouldering look he appeared to be sending her, which she decided had to be an optical illusion. After their argument yesterday, he wasn’t likely to jump her again. And she definitely did not plan to jump him.
‘What for?’ she said, unable to deny the tiny trickle of hope at his conciliatory tone. The less acrimony between them, the more chance they had of making this talk as painless as possible.
‘For losing my temper. For freaking out when you told me...’ his gaze dipped pointedly to her belly ‘...about your condition. For making out like this was all your fault.’
Relief was sharp and sweet at the heartfelt words. ‘So you don’t believe I got pregnant to set you up any more?’
He had the grace to look embarrassed. ‘Not once I’d examined the facts. I figure opening that first condom packet with my teeth probably wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done.’ His gaze fixed on her. ‘And after what happened yesterday, I’m guessing even if you had told me the truth about being on the pill, I would have risked it. Things had got pretty hot by then already.’
The muscles of her thighs melted as the pesky hum of reaction shimmered down to her core.
‘I appreciate your honesty.’ She nodded, accepting his apology with deliberate formality, while crossing her legs in an attempt to ease the ache in her sex.
Not going there. Remember?
‘I owe you an apology, too.’ She heaved a sigh, knowing she was hardly blameless in the misunderstandings that had arisen between them.
‘Yeah?’ He arched a questioning brow.
‘I should have corrected you...’ The blush fired up her neck as his lips quirked, the sensual knowledge in his smile not doing a thing to cool the hot spot between her thighs. ‘But I wasn’t really paying a lot of attention to the conversation at that point.’
‘You and me both.’ The low comment was husky with intimacy.
She cleared her throat. Hormones behave. Now. ‘But to be honest, I really didn’t think it would make any difference because...’ She hesitated. ‘I’ve had some fertility issues. Believe me, the chances of me getting pregnant were extremely slim.’
He frowned. ‘How slim?’
‘Well, if my doctor’s reaction is anything to go by when she confirmed the pregnancy, I think we might be talking lottery-winning odds.’
‘Damn. Seriously?’
She nodded, smiling at his reaction. He sounded more stunned than pleased, but it still felt good to share such an important moment in their child’s life with him.
‘When did you find out?’ he asked, and her smile faded.
Blast.
‘Um...’ She glanced out of the window as the pristine new Eurostar terminal at St Pancras Station inched by.
‘You know, that you were knocked up?’ he prompted, obviously thinking she hadn’t understood the question.
She studied the station’s redbrick Victorian grandeur as they turned onto Euston road, desperate to avoid his unsettling gaze and the equally unsettling question. He’d been honest with her, and she knew she owed him the same courtesy, but would telling him the truth break this momentary truce? Obviously, she should have contacted him weeks ago, and she hadn’t. If only she hadn’t been such a coward.
‘What’s the deal, Ella?’ he probed, already sounding suspicious. ‘How long have you known about this?’
She sighed. ‘Four weeks.’
She tensed at the muffled curse as the cab stopped outside the station hotel.
‘Great.’ He didn’t say another word, just paid the cabbie and ushered her into the Renaissance’s grand lobby area.
Every time she’d passed the historic hotel since its renovation a few years ago, she’d wondered what it looked like inside. But she barely registered the lavish vaulted ceiling or the plush interior design as his palm settled on the small of her back, and he directed her to the elevators.
His suite on the third floor had a spiral wrought-iron staircase that curved onto a second level, and original Gothic arched windows that looked down onto the station concourse. But as he poured out the bottle of sparkling mineral water she’d requested into a glass filled with ice it wasn’t the hotel’s palatial elegance she found intimidating.
‘Okay, so now I want to know—why the delay?’ He helped himself to a cola from the room’s bar. ‘Because I’ve got to tell you, I’m not feeling real happy about the fact that you’ve known about this kid for a month and you didn’t get in touch.’
She’d been expecting the question ever since they’d arrived. And had prepared an answer. But she paused to take a hasty gulp of the icy, effervescent water.
She didn’t want to tell him how she’d initially panicked about his reaction. Because then she’d have to tell him about Randall, and the child she’d lost. And she didn’t see how that would serve any purpose now. Except to make her look bad. And she looked bad enough already.
‘Stop stalling, Ella,’ he murmured, watching her over the rim of his glass. And she had the disconcerting thought again that he seemed to be able to read her a lot easier than she was able to read him.
‘All right,’ she huffed, perching on a bar stool. ‘If you must know, I did an internet search to get your details, so I could contact you.’ This wasn’t lying, she justified, it was simply failing to tell the whole truth. ‘And, well...’ Okay, maybe this part of the truth made her seem a little pathetic. But pathetic she could live with.
‘And...?’ he prompted, as if he didn’t already know what she was going to say.
‘I thought you were a freelance boat captain who lived in a one-room beach shack. I wasn’t expecting to discover your name mentioned as one of the top young entrepreneurs in the Caribbean. It was disconcerting.’
He sent her an unapologetic smile.
What was so funny?
‘And totally unexpected,’ she added. ‘I needed time to adjust to that before contacting you. So I waited, probably a bit longer than I should have.’
‘A bit?’ The grin spread as he propped himself on the bar stool next to her and nudged her knee with his. Crowding her personal space. ‘Four weeks is an awful lot of adjustment time, don’t you think? And you never did contact me, honey. I came to you.’
‘There was an awful lot to adjust to.’ She raised her chin. He’d tricked her, and pretended to be someone he wasn’t. Surely she was entitled to be a little miffed about that? ‘It made me realise that I didn’t really know anything about you, and that scared me.’
‘You knew the important stuff.’ He ran his thumb across her bottom lip.
‘Don’t.’ She jerked back, the sudden touch almost as shocking as the tenderness in his eyes.
‘You scare pretty easy, don’t you, Ella?’ The probing gaze made her feel as if he could see through her T-shirt and jeans to the naked, needy girl she’d once been. ‘Why is that?’
She tried to regulate her staggered breathing, unable to take her eyes off his.
Sexual desire was something she could handle. Would handle. But she didn’t want to need him. To need any man. Not again.
‘Do you think we could talk about the baby now?’ she said. ‘I have to get back to work.’
* * *
‘Sure.’ Coop shrugged, the tension in his shoulder blades nothing compared to the kick of need in his crotch.
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.
