скачать книгу бесплатно
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?’
Cooper’s brows lifted. First in surprise, then in approval. He didn’t need more encouragement.
Fooling with her peignoir’s lacy neckline, he stage-whispered, ‘Darling, you promised not to mention that once we got here.’ Appropriately embarrassed, he turned to their hostess. ‘Thank you, Penny. Punch would be great.’ He touched his throat and rasped, ‘I am rather dry.’
As they moved off, Penny prattled on about her house renovations. Cooper stopped and held a hand out to Sophie. ‘Coming?’
The time seemed right for payback for crossing the loincloth line earlier tonight. ‘You’ve so looked forward to catching up with Penny.’ She blew a kiss. ‘I’ll see you both later.’
Above a knowing half-grin, his unmasked eye shot playful daggers as Penny dragged him and his billowing cape away.
Left alone, Sophie inhaled the aroma of the hot finger-food doing the rounds, then appraised the milling crowd—Terminator, Dorothy from Oz, Edward Scissorhands and, if she wasn’t mistaken, Pamela Anderson, in a red one-piece that didn’t come close to covering her famous bust.
Sophie rearranged her peignoir and smiled. Cooper was the kind of man most women dreamed about. Completely and irrevocably masculine. Confident to the point of arrogance. But Sophie didn’t feel the least concerned that she would lose his attention tonight. Not because she considered herself more attractive or entertaining than any woman here, or because they were close to being in love. But rather because she was the mother of Cooper’s unborn child, and right now that was all he could see. She would be a fool to think otherwise.
From behind, a set of hands swept over her eyes and Sophie jumped. She pulled them off and spun around to see Kate’s razor-cut red hair hidden beneath a thirties-style blonde wig.
Kate circled her. ‘Oh my God, Sophie—look at you!’
In a shredded dress and rope bracelets, Sophie was guessing Kate was King Kong’s date, Fay Wray.
Kate’s brow wrinkled. ‘Have you lost weight?’
