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‘I see. So you’re the boy that can have any woman he wants. And she’s the girl that didn’t want you? Is that what’s got you so upset?’
‘I’m not upset.’ Coop flexed his fist, his hand hurting like a son of a bitch. ‘And thanks a bunch for making me sound like an arrogant jackass.’
Sonny smiled, but didn’t deny it, and Coop felt the flicker of hurt. ‘You’re a good-looking boy with more money than you need and a charming way about you that draws women like bees to a honeypot. You’ve got a right to be arrogant, I guess.’
‘Thanks,’ Coop said wryly. He didn’t kid himself, Sonny hadn’t meant it as a compliment.
Money wasn’t something that floated Sonny’s boat; it was the one thing they still argued about. Because as far as Coop was concerned, money mattered, more than pretty much everything else. It made everything easier, oiled every cog, gave you options, and that all-important safety net that he’d lacked as a kid. He’d craved it for the first twenty years of his life. But now he had it, it meant more to him than just the luxuries, or the good times he could buy with it. It meant respect. Status. It showed people that he wasn’t the worthless little trailer-trash nobody he’d once been. But best of all it meant he didn’t have to rely on anyone but himself.
He liked Sonny, respected the guy more than any other guy he had ever known, but, the way he saw it, Sonny had way too many responsibilities in his life—to his five kids, his three grandkids, all his friends and acquaintances, not to mention Rhona, the wife he’d had by his side for over thirty years. Maybe that worked for Sonny, he certainly didn’t seem to mind it, but, as far as Coop was concerned, that wasn’t something he was looking for. A man could be an island—if he worked hard enough and had enough money to make it happen—and life was a lot easier that way.
‘Aren’t you headed to Europe next week?’ Sonny pushed on, not taking the hint. ‘Why not look this girl up and see how she’s doing?’
Coop stared blankly at his friend. He’d thought about it; of course he had. He had a meeting with some financiers in St Tropez who wanted to talk about franchising options for Dive Guys in the Med. It was only a short hop from there to London, where Ella lived. But...
‘I don’t know. if I went all the way out to London just to hook up, she might get the wrong idea.’ He sure as hell didn’t want Ella thinking this was more than it was.
‘Why would that be bad?’ Sonny’s rueful smile made Coop feel about as smart as the lug nut he’d been trying to shift all morning. ‘If she’s the woman of your dreams.’
‘Damn, Sonny, Ella is not the woman of my dreams,’ he shot back, getting exasperated.
What was with Sonny? Was all this wedding garbage messing with his head and making him even more of a romantic than usual?
He hardly knew Ella. And he didn’t have dreams about women. Well, not apart from R-rated ones. For the simple reason that he was more than happy being an island.
‘If you say so.’ Sonny shrugged, undaunted. ‘But my point is you need to go get your sunshine back.’ Sonny jerked his thumb over his shoulder, indicating the glimmering turquoise water that stretched towards the horizon. ‘And if it’s across that ocean that’s where you oughta be.’ His smile thinned. ‘Because until you do, you’re not a heck of a lot fun for anyone to be around.’
Coop frowned as he finally got the message. So that was it. Sonny wanted him out of the way while him and his family geared up for Josie’s big day.
He felt the sharp stab of hurt. But guessed the old guy had a point. He had been pretty grouchy the last couple of months. Sleepless nights and sexual frustration could do that to a guy. And whatever was going on between him and Ella, it didn’t seem to be getting any better. ‘Have I really been that bad?’ he asked.
Resting a solid hand on his shoulder, Sonny gave it a fatherly pat. ‘Boy, you’ve been bitchier than when you were working all hours to set up your business.’
‘Sorry.’
Sonny squeezed his shoulder. ‘Don’t be sorry, man, go do something about it.’
Coop nodded. What the hell? Trying to talk some sense into Josie and her folks about the wedding was a lost cause. And he could do with more than the two-day break he’d planned for his trip to the Med. Why not book a flight that routed through London? Stop over for a few extra days, book a suite in a classy hotel, see the city, and if he happened to be in Ella’s neighbourhood at some point, why not look her up? If she wanted to throw some more sunshine his way—and maybe give him an explanation as to why she hadn’t stuck around to say goodbye—why should he object?
As Sonny had said, he’d never had a woman walk out on him before now. That was most probably all this was really about. And if that made him an arrogant jackass, so be it. He needed to do something to get himself the hell over this hump he seemed to have got hung up on. So he could come back to Bermuda ready to smile through his teeth during his best friend’s daughter’s wedding.
What was the worst that could happen?
* * *
‘Stop eating the merchandise! I don’t care if you’ve got a cookie craving.’
Ella hastily wiped the white chocolate and macadamia nut evidence off her mouth. ‘Sorry, I can’t help it.’
Ruby sent her a superior look from the cappuccino machine, where she was busy whipping up a storm of decaf lattes and skinny mochas for the tennis foursome who had just arrived after a grudge match at the heath.
‘You should be sorry. I’d love to know how you’ve barely gained an ounce.’ Her gaze dipped to Ella’s cleavage, displayed in the new D half-cup bra she’d splashed out on the previous week. ‘Except on the bust.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘Despite having consumed your own weight in confectionery in the last week.’
Ella grinned as she arranged the freshly baked passionfruit florentines on the ‘treat of the day’ display. ‘I’m simply making up for lost time. I could barely keep anything down for three solid weeks.’
Ella stroked the compact bulge that made the waistband of her hip-hugger jeans dig into her tummy. Even though she could not have been more ecstatic about the pregnancy, revelling in every change it brought to her body, puking her guts up every morning had got old fairly fast. And running a cake shop, where the cloying aroma of sweetness and the bitter chicory scent of coffee had been hell on her hypersensitive sense of smell, had been a particular brand of torture she had been more than happy to see the back of. Now she could simply enjoy all the other changes—well, all except one.
Her sex drive seemed to have mushroomed at the same pace as her bosom—if the lurid dreams she had most nights, in which a certain Cooper Delaney was a key player, were anything to go by.
Only last night, she’d woken up in a pool of sweat, her skin tight and oversensitive, her already enlarged nipples swollen and her engorged clitoris pulsing with the need to be touched. She’d never been all that self-sufficient, sexually speaking, before she’d met Cooper, but she’d had to take matters into her own hands more than once in the last few weeks, while visualising Cooper’s honed, ripped body driving into her and hearing his deep laconic voice growling ‘touch yourself’ in her ear.
Heat boiled in her cheeks, at the memory of last night’s frenzied and sadly dissatisfying orgasm. And the guilt that had followed. Was it possible that her body was playing tricks on her, constantly bringing up these carnal memories of her child’s father to push her into contacting him the way she’d planned to do weeks ago?
But that was before she’d done an Internet search on him. And a simple investigation to discover his contact details had brought the panic seeping back.
Because putting Cooper Delaney’s name and the words ‘Bermuda’ and ‘snorkelling’ into the search engine had brought up ten whole pages of references, not just to him but to Dive Guys, the phenomenally successful franchise he owned and operated in most of the Caribbean. A company that had been listed on the New York stock exchange for over three years and was—according to an article in Time Life magazine—one of the fastest-growing start-ups in the region.
She’d been in shock. Then she’d been upset that he hadn’t trusted her enough to tell her the truth about himself... Then she’d thought of the secret child in her womb and she’d begun shaking so hard she’d had to lie down.
Coop Delaney wasn’t a part-time boat captain and all around beach bum living a free-spirited, laid-back, itinerant existence on a Bermuda beach—he was an exceptionally rich and well-connected businessman with the money and influence to buy and sell her and Ruby’s little cupcake bakery several hundred times over.
How could she tell a man like that she was carrying his child? And not expect him to make demands? Demands she might not want to agree to? If he’d been the Coop she’d thought he was, she would have phoned him weeks ago. But now...
‘Check out the suit in the window.’ Ruby’s appreciative whistle woke Ella from her stupor. ‘That guy’s got shoulders even a happily married woman can appreciate.’
Ella’s gaze skimmed the top of the cookie display to see a tall man, with closely cropped hair step into the café. Recognition tickled her spine, then thumped into her chest as he lifted his head and shockingly familiar emerald eyes locked on hers.
She blinked rapidly, sure this had to be an apparition conjured up by her guilty conscience—but then his sensual lips quirked and the warm spot between her legs ignited.
‘Hi, welcome to Touch of Frosting, Camden’s premiere cupcake bakery. What’s your guilty pleasure this morning?’
Ella vaguely processed Ruby’s familiar greeting through the chainsaw in her head. ‘Coop?’ The word came out on a rasp of breath.
‘Hey there, Ella.’ The apparition winked, which had heat flushing to her hairline, before it addressed Ruby. ‘You must be Ruby. The name’s Coop. I’m a friend of Ella’s.’
He held out a deeply tanned hand in greeting as Ella heard Ruby’s sharp intake of breath.
‘Hi.’ Ruby skirted the counter and grasped his hand in both of hers. ‘Cooper Delaney, right? It’s so fabulous to actually meet you.’
Ella heard the perk of excitement in Ruby’s voice and the laconic ease in Coop’s—and everything inside her knotted with panic.
‘Ella told you about me, huh?’ His voice rumbled with pleasure as the green gaze settled on her.
Say something.
Her mind screamed as she absorbed the chiselled perfection of his cheekbones, the tawny brows, the twinkle of amusement in those arresting eyes, and the full sensual lips that tilted up in a confidential smile. Arousal gripped her abdomen as blood pumped into her sex.
But then she noted all the things about this man that didn’t fit: the slate-grey single-breasted suit, the clean-shaven jaw, the short, perfectly styled hair that was several shades darker with fewer strands of sun-streaked blond.
She shook her head, a bolt of raw panic slamming into her chest as he passed his palm in front of her face. He was speaking to her.
‘Hey there, Ella, snap out of it. How you doing?’
I’m pregnant. And I should have got in touch with you weeks ago to tell you.
She opened parched lips, but couldn’t force the words out.
‘Ella’s great, she had her first—’ Ruby began.
‘Shut up, Ruby!’ The high-pitched squeal shot past the boulder lodged in her throat. Ruby’s eyebrows rose to her hairline but thankfully she obeyed the command, while Coop’s grin took on a curious tilt.
Ella skidded round the counter, galvanised out of her trance.
Get him out of here, then you can tell him. Sensibly, succinctly, and privately, without an audience of tennis players, yummy mummies, two giggling schoolgirls and your super-nosey best friend.
She owed him that much.
‘I’m taking a half-day, Rubes.’
Ruby’s brow furrowed.
Oh, dear, she’d have some explaining to do to Ruby, too. But that could wait, she thought, as she came to a halt in front of Cooper.
She tilted her head back, the effect of that lazy smile shimmering down to her toes. How could she have forgotten how tall he was? Taking a deep breath in, she got a lungful of his delicious scent.
He smells the same. Hold that thought.
But then the aroma of spicy cologne and soap and man triggered a renewed pulse of heat and the shudder of reaction hit her knees.
She grasped his arm, as much to stay upright as to propel him back out of the door before Ruby spilled any more confidential information. The bulge of muscle flexed beneath the soft fabric of his designer suit—which didn’t do much for her leg tremors.
He glanced at her fingers and grinned, pleased with her haste. ‘It’s great to see you too, Ella.’ That he didn’t seem particularly fazed by her fruitcake behaviour helped to calm some of the tension screaming across her shoulder blades. ‘I was just in the neighbourhood,’ he added. ‘And I figured we could catch up over....’
‘That’s wonderful, Coop,’ she interrupted. ‘But let’s go somewhere private so we can talk properly.’
‘Sounds good.’ His hooded gaze suggested he had made a few assumptions about her eagerness to get him alone. And talking was not at the top of his current to-do list.
The stupid tingles raced across her skin.
Do not hold that thought. You need to keep a clear head.
She crossed to the door, still clinging onto his arm, but stopped in her tracks when he didn’t move with her.
She swung back, ready to beg. ‘Please, my flat’s just round the corner. I have coffee. And cupcakes.’
Her gaze flicked over his shoulder to Ruby, who had crossed her arms over her chest and was staring at her, the concern on her face making Ella feel small and foolish.
‘Cupcakes, huh?’ He laughed, but then his hands cupped her elbows, forcing her to relinquish her death grip on his arm. ‘I’m a sucker for cupcakes,’ he purred, then yanked her onto tiptoes. ‘But first things first.’ He dipped his head, bringing his lips tantalisingly close. ‘Don’t I rate a “welcome to London” kiss?’
Before she had a chance to confirm or deny, his mouth settled over hers, and every thought bar one melted out of her head.
Yes, please.
His tongue coaxed her lips open in hungry strokes, then tangled with hers. The shaking in her legs shot off the Richter Scale but his arms wrapped around her waist, holding her steady against the lean, hard line of his body. His scent enveloped her, clogging her lungs as she clung to him for balance, and drank in the glorious urgency of his kiss.
As they broke apart she heard the smattering of applause from the group of mums in the corner. The heat rose up to scald her scalp—but he was smiling at her with that appreciative, sexy twist of his lips she remembered so well from Bermuda and she swallowed down the renewed bolt of panic.
She had so much to tell him, and she still had no real clue how he would respond. But kissing him again, having his arms around her, had felt so good, she refused to allow her doubts to resurface. She was having this beautiful man’s baby—and it felt like fate somehow that he had come to London to see her.
He dropped his arms and slid one warm palm into hers. ‘Let’s get out of here.’ He brushed his lips across her ear lobe. ‘I’m dying to taste your cupcakes.’
She grinned, sure her cupcakes weren’t the only thing he planned to taste. ‘You’re going to love them.’
She waved goodbye to Ruby, who sent her a wary smile back, then mouthed, ‘Tell him.’
She nodded, sobering a little.
‘Great to meet you, Ruby. I’ll bring her back in one piece. I swear.’ He sent Ruby a farewell salute as he opened the café door for her and she stepped outside. The sky was dark and overcast, a summer storm brewing, but excitement rippled.
Against all the odds, Cooper Delaney was here. And she would get the chance to tell him her news face to face. Now the initial shock had faded, she knew it was the best possible scenario. She could prepare him properly, before she told him. Explain exactly how it had happened and how much it meant to her, and make sure he understood he didn’t have to be a part of the life growing inside her if he didn’t want to be. That he had no obligations.
But surely him turning up here had to be a sign. Of something good. He’d come all this way to see her, and he’d kissed her with such fervour. The chemistry between them was still so strong, so hot. And there had been definite affection in his gaze too, the way his hands had steadied her, held her close.
He hadn’t forgotten her, any more than she had forgotten him.
He slung an arm across her shoulders. ‘Lead the way, my little cougar. But put a fire under it,’ he said, casting a wary glance at the ominous thunderclouds overhead. ‘It looks like we’re about to get soaked.’
She chuckled, giddy with anticipation and tenderness, as a fat drop of rain landed on her cheek. ‘My road is the second on the left.’ The crash of thunder startled her for a moment, then the deluge of fat drops multiplied into a flood, drenching her T-shirt and jeans in seconds.
Laughing, she darted out from under his arm, the chilly summer rain plastering her hair against her cheeks and running in rivulets between her breasts. ‘Come on, toy boy. I’ll race you there,’ she said, before sprinting off in a burst of energy.
They would work this out. Nothing bad could happen today. She was sure of it.
* * *
‘Come back here...’
Cooper raced up the shadowy stairwell guided by that pert ass outlined in wet denim, his own shirt sticking to his chest.
He tripped, cursed, then finally caught up with her, his crotch throbbing now. Running with a hard-on was never a good idea, but he’d been waiting months to get his hands on her again.
Her light, infectious laugh bubbled through his blood, doing weird things to his equilibrium as he followed her into the shoebox apartment at the top of the stairs. He slammed the door behind him, taking in the compact living room, the kitchen counter, the couch covered in colourful cushions. Then grabbed a hold of one hundred pounds of wiggling, giggling female, and refused to let go.
‘Got you.’ He held her close, taking the time to study the open, heart-shaped face, the huge blue eyes that had haunted his dreams for weeks.
Maybe he had missed her, more than he thought.
‘And you’re not getting away from me any time soon,’ he declared. Although she wasn’t exactly trying too hard.
His lips captured hers in a hungry kiss, while he peeled off the drenched cotton T-shirt to discover the damp lemon-scented female flesh beneath.
He cupped her generous breasts, the pebbled nipples digging into his palms through her bra, then pinched the swollen tips, while his mouth drank in her soft grunts of excitement.
Her fingers threaded into his hair, tugging him back. ‘I have to tell you...’ Her voice came out on a whisper. ‘We have to talk.’
‘Later.’ He nipped her bottom lip. ‘Sex first. Then cupcakes. Talk after that.’
He delved to find the hook on her bra and sent up a silent prayer of thanks as it popped open. Dragging the wet hem of her T over her head, he ripped off the sodden bra.
When she was bare to the waist, her breasts heaved with her staggered breathing, the large reddened nipples like ripe berries, sweet and succulent.
‘Those are even hotter than I remember.’ He lifted his gaze, saw the flush of colour on high cheekbones, the blue of her eyes dilated to dark, driving need.
Cupping one heavy orb in his palm, he licked round the peak, heard her moan, then bit tenderly into the swollen tip, his erection now huge in his pants.
Her back arched as she thrust into his mouth, moaning softly as he suckled harder.
Finding the zipper of her jeans, he yanked down the tab, and delved beneath the clinging, constricting fabric to cup her. She sobbed as his fingers widened the slick folds, and touched the heart of her. She bucked, then grasped his wrist.
‘Stop!’ she cried. ‘I’m going to come.’
‘That’s the general idea.’ Panic clawed at his chest. If she said no now he was liable to die.
She stared at him, her need plain in the wide pupils, the staggered pants of breath. ‘I want you inside me. It’s been too long.’
‘Not a problem.’ He chuckled, relief flooding through him as the tension in his groin begged for release. ‘Then let’s get naked. Fast.’
The sound of frantic cursing, of tearing fabric, of buttons hitting the linoleum flooring filled the small room as they wrestled to get their wet clothes off as fast as humanly possible.
After what felt like several millennia she stood naked before him, her gaze darkening further as those bright eyes dropped to his groin. His erection twitched, the pulse throbbing at its tip, steady and relentless.
He lifted her against the wall of the apartment, wedging himself into the space between her thighs. Clasping her generous hips, he assessed those spectacular breasts. She’d gained some weight since their night in Bermuda and it suited her—the belly that had been so flat across her hip bones now pillowing his erection.
The dumb wave of regret that her body had undergone that small change and he hadn’t been there to see it, to witness it, passed over like a shadow then disappeared as her breasts pressed into his chest—demanding more friction. He ducked his head, to suck at the pulse point in her neck, which beat in frantic flutters. Her addictive scent surrounded him, lemon and spice and all things nice.
His lips curved, holding her as she hooked toned legs around his waist. Her fingers threaded into the short, damp hair at his ears.
‘I haven’t got any condoms,’ he admitted, his mind trying to engage with the need to slow the hell down. To think through the driving urge to sink into her tight heat. He hadn’t had time to stop and pick any protection up because he’d come straight from the airport. And he hadn’t figured things would get this hot, this quickly. But could he risk it? Just this once? She was on the pill? ‘You okay with me using withdrawal? I’m clean, I swear.’
He felt her nod, and lifted his head to see her eyes, glazed with an emotion that made his heart thud against his chest wall like a sledgehammer.
‘So am I,’ she replied
It was all the permission he needed. His shaft jerked against her belly from the kick of desperation. Palming her buttocks, and angling her pelvis as best he could, he thrust home in one long, solid glide. Her slick, wet sex stretched to receive him, then massaged him like a velvet vice. Her head dropped back, thudding the wall, as he began to move, the thrusts jerky, desperate, the need quickly becoming too fast and furious, the need so raw and draining he couldn’t slow down, couldn’t stop now if his life depended on it.
She sobbed, her fingernails scraping his back as she clung on. Her muscles began to milk him, and he knew she was coming.
Don’t pull out. Not yet. Hold on. Damn it.
His seed boiled, driving up from his balls, hurling him closer and closer to the cliff edge, her sobs of completion beckoning him to come faster, harder. And a tiny part of his mind screamed to the animal inside him.
Now. Pull out, now.
He wrenched himself free. Dropping his head against her shoulder, kissing the salt, sweet taste of her neck, the pain of separation as devastating as the brutal, unstoppable roll of orgasm as his seed pumped into the welcoming softness of her belly.
* * *
‘Damn, that was even more awesome than I remember.’
Ella’s gaze shimmered back into focus as a rough palm touched her cheek and blunt fingers sank into her hair. Those deep emerald eyes searched her face, making her chest tighten.
She nodded, gently, feeling stunned, her sex still clenching and releasing from the intensity of her orgasm. Seemed absence didn’t just make the heart grow fonder.
‘Yes,’ she whispered, her throat raw from the wellspring of emotion.
His lips curved, and he placed a tender kiss on her forehead. ‘Come on.’ He hefted her into his arms, bracing his forearm under her buttocks as she held onto his shoulders. ‘Let’s grab a shower. Then I want a cupcake.’