Читать книгу: «One-Amazing-Night Baby!», страница 2

CHAPTER TWO

COOPER SMITH stopped into the deserted hotel corridor outside a pair of metallic lift doors. He shucked back his shoulders, then considered the stunned package cradled in his arms.

He grinned. ‘I think they enjoyed the show.’

God knows he had. That exit had been the first entirely wild thing he’d done in ages. He’d read somewhere that breaking loose every so often was a tonic for the soul. He had a feeling it could also be highly addictive, which—given his professional knowledge about impulsive behaviour—was probably not a good thing.

She took him in, big green eyes luminous with shock. He was starting to wonder if it might be permanent when she smiled, then began to laugh. Her jiggling body, that infectious sound—he had to chuckle too.

Eyes watery with effort, she finally got her breath. ‘I bet Penny’s jaw is still on the floor.’ She shook her head in astonishment. ‘I can’t believe we just did that.’ Then she frowned. ‘I can’t believe you didn’t warn me.’

‘You’d only have argued.’

She dealt him that haughty look. ‘Maybe not.’

If anything she was consistent.

Consistently disagreeable.

Normally he wouldn’t get involved, but the sight of an attractive woman on her own, a colourful bouquet sitting like a death sentence in her lap, had reeled him in. His heartstrings had tugged him all the way into asking her to dance. That he’d enjoyed their time together was a bonus, even after her stubborn streak had made it crystal-clear she most definitely was not ‘the one’.

She wasn’t an advocate of tradition, marriage or, it seemed, even having a family. Most alarming … she believed a successful union was based on luck. A time bomb waiting to explode. He needed someone who looked at life and love level-headedly.

A person made his own luck.

Still, regardless of their differences, despite the fact there could be nothing between them, he couldn’t regret that kiss. Not that it would happen again.

He inspected the closed lift doors. ‘So, up or down?’

‘To the lobby and a taxi … so, down.’

Adrenaline was pumping through his body, bunching his muscles, firing the synapses over his skin. He wasn’t the least bit tired. They couldn’t go back to work off their energies at the wedding reception, however.

‘It’s too early to go home.’

‘It’s almost eleven.’

Hardly late. ‘Are you tired?’

Her mouth twisted to one side. ‘I thought I was.’

Solution. ‘Join me for coffee.’

‘I don’t drink coffee.’

He raised a brow. How could he forget? If he wanted to walk left, she would insist they go right.

He persisted. ‘Something cool, then?’

‘Tell you what, put me down and I’ll think about it.’

Cooper paused, then cleared his throat. How had that detail slipped his mind?

He lowered her and she brushed off her gown. Her scent lingered—cinnamon and perhaps vanilla, a combination of spicy and sweet that suited her down to the ground.

A spiral of hair spilled across her heart-shaped face as she angled her head to study him. ‘I’ll be honest. I don’t know how to take that invitation.’

On the surface it might look like more pity, or an attempt to slip that notch on his bedpost, or, at best, a waste of time. But it was much simpler than that. Maybe it was seeing his friend happily married, but if she was feeling a little lonely tonight, so was he.

He scooped his hands into his pockets.

Of course, a more rational explanation was that he’d been working too hard for too long. But all that was too much information.

‘We know we’re not suited in a romantic sense, so you needn’t worry that we’ll somehow fall into bed.’ Hurt flooded her eyes and he inwardly cringed. Damn. And he’d thought her friend was tactless. He pushed on. ‘We’d just be two responsible adults, who have mutual friends, sharing a drink and some conversation after a wedding.’

A faint line formed between her brows. She nibbled her lower lip and studied him.

He withdrew his hands from his pockets. ‘Or I can ride with you down to the ground floor and see you get a cab.’

The doubt in her face faded. She had the most exquisitely shaped lips—soft, luscious, made for kissing, not warring. But that was getting off-track.

She tipped her head. ‘There’s a coffee shop off the lobby. Guess I could enjoy one quick hot chocolate on the way out.’

Surprised, but pleased, he thumbed the lift button. ‘One quick one it is.’

An elderly lady appeared and squeezed between them to hit the ‘up’ arrow. ‘That shop closes at ten,’ she told them, rearranging a cerise shawl around a pair of robust shoulders. ‘If you’re after hot chocolate, I recommend Room Service. Best I’ve tasted.’

A lift arrived, and the lady disappeared behind the doors. At the same time the next lift pinged … going down.

Cooper scrubbed his jaw. ‘Guess that does that.’

‘You have something against Room Service?’

He looked at her hard. He must have it wrong. ‘Are you saying you’d come to my room?’

‘Depends. Do you have one?’

‘As a matter of fact, I do.’ Despite his attempt at blasé, surprise must have shown on his face.

‘We’re both over twenty-one,’ she pointed out calmly. ‘Besides, you just finished telling me seduction is the last thing on your mind. In case you’re worried, the same goes for me.’

He grinned at her impudent look. Or was it saucy? If she wasn’t such a pain in the rear end …

But she was right. He had a plan. A list. Now it was set in his mind, nothing would dissuade or distract him. He wouldn’t seduce her, though others might. He constantly cautioned his kid sister to be careful. Guys loved sex. Most would do almost anything to get it. And plenty ran a sprinter’s mile if precautions failed and suddenly baby made three.

A couple of minutes later they arrived at the penthouse floor and he let her into the apartment. She crossed the Italian marble floor to sample the expansive harbour view that featured the Opera House’s majestic shells.

‘You reserved a whole loft apartment for the night?’ she asked, moving to the far wall to inspect his favourite painting—a warm, brightly hued abstract he’d picked up in Hanoi. ‘Must’ve cost a packet.’

He shucked out of his jacket and hung it on the hall stand. ‘I own it.’

‘Oh, you do not.’ Her sceptical face slid. ‘In this hotel?’

Making his way to the expansive black granite wet bar, he nodded.

‘This is the sort of space I imagine movie stars hire,’ she murmured, taking it all in. ‘Do you actually live here?’

He picked up the bar’s phone extension. ‘I have a house in the northern suburbs.’

Making herself at home, she folded into the couch, the emerald of her gown striking against the beige suede cushions. His gaze skimmed her hair.

What would those upswept dark waves look like dancing around her shoulders? Stunning, would be his guess. Long and bouncy.

‘I bet it’s big?’

With a start, his mind skipped back. The line connecting him to Room Service rang in his ear. ‘Excuse me?’

‘Your house,’ she said. ‘I bet it’s big.’

The agent had described it as a mansion, but it was more an investment—like this double-storey loft. ‘It’s comfortable.’

He ordered their drinks, then poured two ice waters.

Her grin was knowing. ‘You look like you come from money.’

He hadn’t thought about it. ‘My parents were well off, but far from rich. When they died, five years ago, I had to provide for my younger sister. So I pumped more energy into my law firm and at the same time invested well. Shares, bonds, property. The usual portfolio.’

‘You must have lucked out on some great choices along the way.’

Luck had had little to do with it. His success was based on good planning.

Frowning, he moved to join her. ‘You have a real thing with superstition, don’t you?’

‘Only about certain things.’

‘For instance?’

‘Spilt salt. You have to throw it back over your left shoulder for good luck.’

‘What about black cats?’

‘They bring good luck. Even better if you stroke their head three times.’

Stopping before her, he laughed. ‘You honestly believe that?’

‘King Charles I of England loved his black cat and had it guarded every minute. The very day after it died he was arrested and later beheaded for treason. Thank you …’ Accepting her water, she tilted her head at him. ‘I don’t even know your name.’

Easing down beside her, he pulled loose his black bow tie. ‘Cooper Smith. Yours?’

She swallowed a mouthful. ‘Sophie will do. I hate my last name.’

‘Couldn’t be any worse than Smith.’

‘That’s a note from heaven compared to mine.’ She heeled off her silver stilettos and wiggled two sets of dainty toes. Painted deep red. Very nice—particularly against her creamy skin. ‘My mother said not to worry because I could dump it when I got married.’

A feat she wasn’t certain of accomplishing now.

He put her toes, and marriage, from his mind and eased back into the cushions. ‘You could change your name by deed poll.’

‘A bit drastic, don’t you think?’

He grunted. Had she agreed with anything he’d said tonight? Pity the poor fool who fell in love with her. She’d have him hopping all over the place.

‘Statistics confirm both men and women are waiting longer to marry.’ He hid a wry grin behind his glass. ‘So you might get lucky yet.’

She smiled sweetly. ‘So might you.’

Like an avalanche, the memory of his mouth covering hers suddenly crashed the cells of his body and his mind. He rubbed his eyes with an index finger and thumb. Obviously he was more tired than he’d thought. He had been up past two last night, going over some briefs for a big court case next week.

Professions. Yes, that was safe subject.

His stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankles. ‘So, you know I’m a lawyer. What do you do for a living, Sophie Last-name-withheld?’

‘I’m a schoolteacher, and love it.’ She smiled as if she had a secret. ‘Well, most days.’ Hooking an arm behind her over the couch, she sighed at the ceiling. ‘Teenage girls can be so single-minded.’

He raised his brows. Tell him about it. He had one at home, always trying to bend the rules. Not in his house.

‘Half are great with homework and focusing,’ she continued. ‘All the other half think of is playing house and having babies.’

As she spoke, his gaze ran over her … Big green eyes, pert little nose, flawless skin. Feeling every inch like a rippling touch—around her face, up her arm—a bright-tipped wave reeled over him. Tingling.

Hot.

He shifted and sat taller. More residual effects from that kiss. Nothing he couldn’t handle if he put his mind to it. She was attractive—sexy, even—but no one to become romantically involved with. Absolutely not. He had a list, a plan, and someone with Sophie’s traits was exempt.

He cleared the thickness from his throat. ‘Your students … do they come to you for advice?’ He used to have a favourite teacher he’d confided in. Paige, his sister, had mentioned one too.

Sophie nodded. ‘One girl in particular. She’s a darling—sixteen—and I think her boyfriend must be putting the hard word on her.’

Paige was sixteen, but thankfully no boyfriend dominated the scene. Because Cooper knew all about teenage boys—virile, myopic, bursting with testosterone. But honestly, when all was said and done … ‘I guess you can’t blame boys for constantly thinking about …’

Thinking about …

Sex. Dammit, they were thinking about sex. He was thinking about it now. The slope of Sophie’s throat, the rise of her breasts, that silver charm bracelet on her left wrist winking in the light, as if beckoning.

Tensing every muscle, he dropped his focus to the glass he now held tight enough to break.

For God’s sake, Smith, snap out of it! Get your mind out of the bedroom.

Sophie’s raised arm fell onto her lap. ‘I understand that human beings are built that way. Hormones, raging sexual cravings to get close … so close you’re practically living in each other’s skin—’ Her gaze cut back to him and she tipped forward, frowning. ‘Are you all right? You look uncomfortable. Are you hot?’ She flipped a finger at his collar. ‘You should undo that top button.’

With adrenaline pumping a million to one beneath his ribs, his next words came out strangled. ‘I think I’ll leave it fastened.’

Her concerned gaze skated over his brow. ‘You might be coming down with something. A horrible flu ripped through my school last week. One minute you’re fine, the next you’re flat on your back.’

She leant closer and his blood began to sizzle. He didn’t need to hear about anyone being on their back.

‘A cold compress might help.’ She thought for a second, then slid her cool glass over his brow. ‘Better?’

He groaned. Oh, dear Lord, yes.

Closing his eyes, he dissolved against the sensation of hot against cold. Her soft body inches from his hard one. He wondered if she would guess his thoughts … how she’d react … what she’d feel like under that dress.

His eyes sprang open.

Enough, already!

As he jumped back his arm bumped hers, and water splashed a cold patch on his crotch. He sprang to his feet at the same time she sprang to hers.

Automatically she brushed his wet trousers, then realised what she was doing. Not that he minded her hands-on attention—not one bit.

Stepping back, she blinked at him several times as a moment of blinding understanding and awareness flashed between them. His gaze ended on her lips, which she wet nervously before announcing, ‘I should go.’

It was the wedding, the talk about sex, the memory of that sensational kiss. That explained why he felt this kind of attraction—hard, fast, totally unreasonable. It had crept up on him like a cat on a mouse. A lucky black cat with big green eyes.

She moved to leave, but his hand snapped out to grasp her charm braceleted wrist. She turned back slowly, chest rising and falling as if she couldn’t get enough air. Mirrored in her eyes he saw the same desire he felt surging through his veins. Right or wrong—possibly both—he had to act.

‘I don’t want you to go.’ Seemed he’d been saying that all night. This minute he meant it more than ever.

Her slender throat bobbed as she swallowed. ‘Why?’

He ground out, ‘You know why.’

He felt her holding her breath, evaluating the situation, going over their conversations. Her words came out a threadbare whisper. ‘We weren’t going to do this.’

‘I changed my mind.’ He had no other explanation. ‘I think you might have too.’

To test his theory, he skimmed a palm up the silken texture of her arm and those earlier tingles caught light. When she didn’t move, he slid that hand around her waist. She examined the motion, then searched his eyes while her own glistened in the soft light. ‘We’re totally incompatible.’

As if drawn by a magnet, he lowered his head to touch her lips oh-so-softly with his. Physical longing curled like a fist in his stomach. ‘Without a word of a lie, right now I only remember how you taste.’

When his mouth met hers again, she kissed him back. As he pulled away, her eyes drifted open. Her sigh was a sound near surrender. ‘I remember too.’

He tugged her closer and her body melded with his—supple, curvaceous, inviting. Nose touching hers, he murmured against her lips, ‘I want you to know I didn’t intend for this to happen.’

She looked both anxious and decided. ‘This is purely physical, right?’

Yes. ‘Purely physical.’ Overpowering, irresistible. No for ever tied in romantic ribbon here.

‘We’re agreed. We won’t pursue this. I’m not what you want. You’re not what I need. We have no future.’

‘But we can have tonight.’

The next kiss left his breathing ragged and left her clinging to his shirt like a lifebuoy. He went in deep, feeling his pulse rate spike, his energies harden, knowing, regardless of what was said next, there was no turning back.

When he let her surface, she was looking over his shoulder, a little amazed. ‘Cooper, you have a painting of butterflies on the wall.’

Tasting her temple, he carefully released the zip down her back. ‘Do I?’ He couldn’t remember.

‘Three white butterflies together. That’s very good luck.’

‘Have you heard the saying, make love three times before dawn and your life will be long and happy?’

She grinned. ‘Think that’s true?’

‘Only one way to find out.’ For a second time that night, he swept her up into his arms.

Their eyes remained glued as he carried her up to his master bedroom.

‘When I first saw you,’ she murmured, ‘I thought you looked dangerous.’

‘And now?’

She touched his cheek. ‘Now I need to know for sure.’

CHAPTER THREE

WHEN they reached the bedroom, Cooper nudged a light switch with his elbow and the glow from a corner lamp faded up. Sophie’s breath caught in her chest as he smiled down at her slung in his arms, lidded eyes compelling and hot.

Neither had planned this. When she’d agreed to accompany him to his room she’d believed they both meant what they’d said. Cooper had made it clear she didn’t fit his requirements. She’d made it just as clear she considered his attitude towards finding a match puritanical. She was through with overbearing men, and one thing she’d learned about Cooper in their short acquaintance was that he absolutely wanted to be boss.

Yet their bodies had overwritten their concerns and made up their minds for them. In the end Cooper Smith’s unique and potent brand of sex appeal was simply too convincing to resist. What he saw in her she couldn’t say. This had never happened before—not even in her dreams. Was it a by-product of her assertiveness when they’d danced—her decision to speak up rather than suppress? How had Kate put it? ‘You should flaunt what you have, instead of always trying to hold it back.’

Either way, being desired by a sexy, powerful man was flattering. Now she was here, she wouldn’t back down. Rather, she would enjoy every stimulating moment. Tonight, for the first time, she would completely lose herself and reach for a handful of far-flung stars.

And tomorrow she would have no regrets. The only consequence would be a boost to her confidence. God knew, it was time.

He carried her to the side of an ominous-looking king-sized bed, then carefully angled her to set her on her feet. Cupping her cheek, he dropped the most tender of kisses at one side of her mouth. His attention drifted to her shoulder, and the slide of his hand helped the strap fall to her elbow. ‘I should cancel the hot chocolates.’

As his kiss tasted her lips more fully, and the other strap fell too, delicious warmth flooded her belly and seeped through her limbs. She didn’t want him to temper the mood by picking up the phone.

With the zip already undone, the dress dropped in a rustling puddle at her feet. She shivered as the air, enhanced by his mesmerising masculine scent, brushed her breasts. She felt exposed, vulnerable, yet at the same time smouldering with anticipation.

When she answered, her voice was unrecognisably thick. ‘What’ll happen if we don’t answer the door?’

Clearly he wasn’t keen to hit ‘pause’ either. Without releasing her forearm, he grabbed a corner of ocean-blue doona in his other hand and, with a decisive action, flicked it back. ‘They’ll get the hint.’

In a dreamy haze, she helped release his dress shirt buttons, then peeled the fabric from his broad, steamy back. As it dropped to the floor he embraced her again, somehow managing to manoeuvre her back and onto the mattress as he made love with his mouth and his hands. Quaking inside, she let her eyelids flutter shut. She felt almost desperate—in a way starving to know every mouthwatering inch of him. As he settled down beside her and his undiluted power radiated out, she knew that wish would soon be granted.

After he softly broke their kiss to sit on the edge of the bed, she heard his shoes ‘thunk-thunk’ onto the carpet. Tipping onto her side, she briefly wondered if he considered her shape ‘puddingy’ or curvaceous, but she buried the thought and cupped her head in a palm, ready to savour the fascinating vision unfolding before her.

His tanned, toned abdomen rippled and flexed as he slid off his trousers, then his shorts. Then he swung a crooked leg onto the bed and faced her. Awed by the complete bared-all package, she dared a two-finger stroke of his thigh—a surface that compared with sun-warmed granite. Cooper Smith had the body of a male swimwear model—tight, polished, bulging in all the right places. And that included south of the border.

Her mind was stuck on glorious freeze-frame when he urged her onto her back and, reclining beside her, smiled down, as if pleased by her level of interest. He held her hand and placed it on his sternum. Her more romantic side was convinced he had imprinted her touch on his heart.

The sound of his pleasure rumbled beneath her palm, deep and seductive. ‘Your turn.’

Ready to return his smile, Sophie instead found herself holding her breath. All at once the shadow on his strong jaw seemed darker, the blaze in his eyes more intense.

No! She’d promised herself she wouldn’t change her mind. But now the former, far more anxious Sophie whispered in her head. Don’t be a fool. You’ve bitten off more than you can chew.

As if reading her thoughts, Cooper’s smile vanished. Hair fallen over one side of his brow, he pushed up to support his weight on one arm as his gaze skimmed her lips, then examined her eyes. ‘You’re trembling.’

Sophie inhaled his fresh, earthy scent, drank in his concerned expression, and, suddenly feeling childish, shook her head. She wanted this. Would always remember it. All she had to do was take this last step. ‘It’s just that it all seems a little … surreal.’

The air compressed, then pulsed around them as he leaned in close to draw his bristled chin up her jaw. ‘Great, isn’t it?’

His reply was so gravelled and honest, so what she felt as well, that Sophie laughed. Smiling again too, he rolled, sweeping her over on top of him with the movement. She went with the flow and, naked but for her panties, pushed upright to straddle his hips.

A moment of something like reverence passed between them before he reached around, held her behind and, his gaze lowering to caress her body, began to rotate his pelvis—back and forth, up and down. As she let herself go, closed her eyes and gently rocked above him, she felt his physical appreciation increase along with her own. Head lolling forward, then back, she worked with him—against him—till nothing barred their joining but crumbling restraint and an annoying strip of damp cotton brief.

Lost to the swirling depths of sensation, she was about to clear the obstruction when a hot fingertip began a tantalising ascent up her spine. Starting with circling at the base, his touch traced up over each vertebra—an action so subtle yet so exceptionally seductive it raised her skin to goosebumps and her soul to even dizzier heights.

By the time his touch arrived at her tingling nape Sophie’s backbone had not only straightened, she’d over-arced. Her fingers dug behind her into his thighs, while her face worshipped those stars in her own private sky.

As she sizzled with need, he pivoted to a sitting position and, framing her face with his hands, kissed her so deeply she thought she might pass out. When he tried but failed to work a set of fingers through her coiffed hair, his husky murmur brushed warmth across her lips.

‘I want it down.’

She smiled, blindly withdrew some hairpins, then shook out her waist-length hair. More freedom!

Teasing, she hitched up one shoulder and staged a pout. ‘Ready for the wild Lady Godiva look?’

His brows opened up as he twirled one of too many curls. ‘Wild is right.’

Her elation dipped. She combed a fall of spirals away from her cheek. She hated her hair. She only kept it long because it was impossible short. ‘Is it too wild?’

‘Absolutely feral.’ He leaned in, dragged his teeth over her neck and growled, ‘I love it.’

As exhilaration washed through her, his warm, wet mouth discovered the tender peak of her breast. She hummed with unabashed delight as his tongue worked its magic and the friction sparking low in her belly spread a marvellous liquid heat through the streams of her body. An arm bracing her back, he gently twirled her and lowered her upon the sheet.

The exquisite suction and occasional nip on her breast gradually eased. Sophie let out a long pleasure-filled sigh as his lips—his entire frame—began to travel down … over her lightly panting ribs, across her quivering tummy. The warm tip of his tongue trailed around and around her navel till she thought she might go mad.

Biting her lip, she pushed his head aside. ‘That tickles!’

By the lamp’s glow, she watched shadows move over the chiselled planes of his face. His eyes glittered with an authoritative style of mischief that left her weak all over. ‘I’ll have you know I’m being serious here.’

Oh, she believed him.

Her previous thoughts floated back, ribboning around the ecstasy of his mouth’s moist caress as he angled closer to the juncture of her thighs. Inside, she held herself tight as the delectable ache of arousal grew stronger and deeper, until a fine spray of flaming arrows began to fly at her core. The intensity built to such a degree she barely knew she was writhing, or that her fingers were knotted in his hair. She could literally taste the ultimate satisfaction waiting a heartbeat away.

His slightly roughened palm skied down her waist, over her hip, till his touch delved past her panties’ elastic and, curling beneath, met with the unmistakable evidence of her need. At the same moment she gasped at the contact, he snatched the scrap of fabric down and fully off her legs.

Bunched up inside, she shook like a kitten as he kissed her there, with such tenderness and obvious enjoyment that after a moment she forgot every concern other than being an aroused woman with urgent burning needs. She followed where he led, ever closer to the cliff, more than willing to freefall into the blazing whirlpool he had so effortlessly created within her.

Her climax crept up, then knocked her flying. An unfamiliar noise escaped her throat as she gripped his head and held on tight. The release was a continuous detonation of throbbing pleasure that kicked her hips off the bed and sent her soul soaring towards those far-flung stars.

She rode the rolling crest until the intensity gradually ebbed, and bit by bit she washed up on the shore. As the delicious ripples faded and real time began again, she dragged herself back and sighed on a smile. She needed to take a good deep breath.

Her eyes sprang open.

Oh, God, so must he!

Smothering a whimper, she released her hold. But when he peered up over the length of her body he didn’t look concerned, or the least bit annoyed. In fact, he looked positively pleased as he prowled up on all fours, a sleek-muscled jungle cat stalking its second course.

A strong arm drew her near as, propped up on an elbow, his pure masculine perfection hovered close. ‘Any regrets so far?’

Her heart squeezed.

Yes—but she wouldn’t say it. She didn’t want to even think it. This was the best she’d felt about herself in—well, since for ever. Her regret was that tonight would end; they would say goodbye. They were fundamentally different people, who thought and operated in very different ways. Cooper would find a beautiful agreeable woman who fitted his list, while Sophie Gruebella would carry on with her life.

The silver lining? Hers would be a new life, a metamorphosis, so to speak; tonight had proved that as nothing else could. From this time forward she made her own rules. The husk of ‘pushover Sophie’ would be left behind for ever. She couldn’t wait to see Penny and Kate’s reaction when she saw them next.

Cooper’s voice was so low he sounded as dangerous as he looked. ‘Miss Sophie Schoolteacher? That question requires an answer.’

Her lips curved as she twined her arms around the thick column of his hot damp neck. Thatching her fingers up through the back of his silky black hair, she shook her head. ‘No regrets. No going back. Only forward.’

And, although her body buzzed with deep satisfaction, her sizzling nerve-endings already anticipated the next round. The best was yet to come. Three times, if she was lucky.

As he searched her eyes, his expression changed.

‘You’re beautiful.’

He said it simply, seemingly without artifice, and for a moment the breath caught in her throat. But, come on … She knew what lay behind that statement. Cooper might be alpha, and built, and sexy and rich. He also had a conscience. And right now that conscience told him to be kind to the girl he was about to know in the most intimate way possible.

She traced a fingertip around his cleft chin and lower, to circle his prominent Adam’s apple. ‘I know one thing,’ she murmured.

A faint line brushed between his brows. ‘Tell me.’ All warm inside, she tugged some chest hair and

grinned. ‘I’ll remember this night.’

Returning her smile, he grazed the hard, ready

length of his body against her. ‘You won’t need a

memento?’

She pretended innocence. ‘You could arrange one?’ ‘I do have something you might remember fondly.

Unfortunately you can’t take it with you when you go.’ He found her hand and redirected her attention …

The rest of the night and half the next day, Sophie enjoyed Cooper Smith’s extraordinary hospitality. They didn’t exchange addresses or any personal details. Exactly the way she wanted it. Him too. They’d agreed. They had no future together. This was one night and one night only. Neither needed to pretend to the other it was anything more.