Bedded for His Pleasure: Bedded by a Bad Boy / In the Gardener's Bed / The Return of the Rebel

‘It’s just…’ She looked down at her plate, concentrated on forking up the potato salad. ‘I used to have a pretty massive crush on Linc when they were first married.’

‘You’re kidding me?’

She looked up. He put his fork down on his plate. He was watching her, his expression unreadable.

‘It’s silly really. It was just a stupid schoolgirl’s fantasy.’

He dumped the plate down on the blanket. ‘What kind of schoolgirl’s fantasy, exactly?’

‘Not that kind of fantasy, you numbskull.’Was he jealous? It was so ridiculous it was almost sweet. If she hadn’t felt like a complete fool for bringing up this whole business, she might have been flattered. ‘It took me a while to realise it, but it wasn’t Linc I fancied. Well, not much anyway. It was what he represented.’

‘And what was that?’ Monroe didn’t even know why he was asking the question. He didn’t want the answer.

Jessie huffed out a breath, put her own plate down. ‘He adored Ali. It was obvious whenever they were together that they adored each other. And then, about a month after they announced they were getting married, they told us that Ali was expecting a baby.’Jessie picked up her fork, toyed with her food. ‘Of course, it was wonderful news. We were all so excited.’

Monroe wasn’t convinced. He could see the misery in her eyes at the memory. ‘You sure about that?’

‘A part of me was,’ she said, so quietly he almost couldn’t hear her over the churn of the sea. ‘But a part of me was pea-green with envy.’

‘Because she was having Linc’s kid?’ He really didn’t want to hear the answer to this one.

‘No,’ she said.

The knot of tension in his shoulders released.

‘Because she had this perfect life,’ Jessie continued. ‘Marriage to a gorgeous man who worshipped her. When Emmy arrived, a beautiful daughter.’ Jessie shook her head, her eyes downcast. ‘I was a stupid, selfish, silly little girl who wanted what she had without having to work for it.’

‘Red.’He reached out, stroked his hand down her arm. ‘Don’t be so damn hard on yourself. You were only a kid at the time.’

‘I was old enough to know better. And I didn’t really get over it until after Toby.’

‘Toby.’ Monroe felt his shoulders tighten again. ‘The dumb bastard who couldn’t give you an orgasm?’

Jessie laughed, breaking the tension at last. ‘Yes, that would be Toby.’

‘How long were you guys together?’ Funny, but he didn’t feel nearly as threatened by her relationship with her ex-boyfriend as he did by her teenage crush on his brother.

‘Two years.’ She sighed, picked up her plate again. ‘Two very long years.’

‘Two years without an orgasm. No wonder they felt long. You’d have to be some kind of a nun not to be mad about that.’

‘If I had known what I was missing, I’d have walked out on him in about two seconds.’ Jessie started to laugh.

Monroe smiled back at her. No, he didn’t feel remotely threatened by Toby the jerk.

‘But then again,’ Jessie said, sobering, ‘Toby’s abilities in bed weren’t why I agreed to marry him.’

‘You were going to marry the guy? What the hell for?’

Jessie gave a small smile. ‘Well, because he asked me, for one thing. And because he told me he wanted to have children, make a home. For a while there, I persuaded myself he was my dream come true.’

Monroe felt the mouthful of potato salad he’d eaten turn over in his stomach. ‘That’s your dream? A home, kids?’

Jessie frowned. He looked stunned. No, not stunned, he looked horrified. Just for a moment, before he looked away.

‘Well, yes. Sort of. But not right now.’

Was he scared she was going to ask him to marry her or something? While it was lowering to know the question might put that devastated look in his eyes, even she wasn’t that much of a romantic fool. They’d only been together for four days, for goodness’ sake.

‘Monroe, you don’t have to look so worried. I’m not picking out the bridesmaids’ dresses yet. I learned my lesson with Toby. If I do settle down, it’ll be when the time’s right with the right person.’ She was not going to make a fool of herself over that fantasy again.

He lifted up the wine. ‘Put up your glass, Red.’

She lifted the plastic cup, trying to figure out what she could see in his eyes as he splashed some more wine into it.

‘Let’s drink to dreams, then.’ He put down the bottle, picked up his own cup and shot her that heart-breaking grin. ‘And not letting them get in the way of good sex.’

Jessie smiled, tapped her cup to his. ‘Now that, I can drink to.’

Monroe swallowed the wine, but it tasted like acid on his tongue. Why the hell did he care that he could never be her dream man? That he could never make her dreams come true. He wasn’t in the business of dreaming. Reality was hard enough.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

‘FLIP over. I’ve been fantasising about putting sunscreen on that back since we got here.’

Jessie smiled at the low rumble of Monroe’s voice. Lying on the small stretch of private beach next to Linc and Ali’s property, she could feel the familiar warmth that had nothing to do with the early-morning sunshine.

She sat up, dipped her sunglasses off her nose and shot Monroe a flirty look. ‘You’re too late. I plastered myself in cream before we came out.’

‘And this would be relevant how, exactly?’

Seeing the mischievous twinkle in his eye, she giggled. The sound was light and girlish, just how she felt. ‘Okay, you’ve persuaded me.’

Pulling the cream out of her bag, she threw it to him and turned over on the towel they’d arranged on the sand.

She could hear the rhythmic churn of the Atlantic behind them, but there was no other noise. Apart from the occasional jogger, the beach—reserved for use by the four houses on the promontory—was as good as deserted on a Sunday morning.

It was their last day alone together before Ali, Linc and Emmy returned from NewYork. As much as she wanted to see her family again, Jessie couldn’t help feeling sad that the intimacy would soon be broken. The two weeks since she and Monroe had first made love had drifted past in a romantic haze.

They’d settled into a routine that had meant sunny, sexy afternoons and hot, insatiable nights. After their picnic at Montauk Point they had got in the habit of going for motorcycle rides most days once she finished work at noon. Discovering parts of Long Island she had never seen before. They had romantic dinners by the pool most evenings. Sharing companionship and passion over seared tuna and white wine when she cooked and steak and beer when it was his turn. He touched her in ways she’d never been touched before, drove her to ecstasy and beyond. And every night she fell asleep, exhausted, content, her love swelling stronger in her chest with each passing day.

She adored watching him paint most of all, both proud and in awe of his talent. Had woken up only last Sunday to find him sketching her naked while she slept. She’d been horrified at first, but once he’d plied her with kisses, caresses and a shattering orgasm, she’d sat for him most of the afternoon and evening.

She’d asked him about his art. Why didn’t he let Mrs Bennett take a look at the paintings? Didn’t he know how good they were? Didn’t he want to pursue his art as a career?

But he hadn’t really answered any of her questions.

If she was being honest with herself, she had begun to feel a little uneasy about his unwillingness to talk about that or anything else more personal.