One-Amazing-Night Baby!: A Wild Night & A Marriage Ultimatum / Pregnant by the Playboy Tycoon / Pleasure, Pregnancy and a Proposition

He was about to suggest roast beef and homemade potato salad sandwiches, but stopped when she rubbed his cheek in a let’s-lie-here-and-talk kind of way.

He held her a little tighter. ‘Something up?’ Besides the obvious.

She paused before taking a deep breath. ‘What do you want more than anything?’ She dropped a warm kiss at the base of his throat and looked up into his eyes.

He covered her hand with his, and in a solemn voice told her the truth. ‘I want to keep this child, our child, safe and always under my care.’

She seemed to think it through. ‘What does that mean, exactly? You want to give up your job to be a full-time caregiver?’

He chuckled. He loved her sense of humour. ‘That’s not exactly it, no.’

‘Or is it that you want to come home each night,’ she continued, ‘knowing that your wife has cared for your baby and your house?’

He paused. He recognised that tone. This was one of her trick questions. The answer was an unreserved yes. But instinct said she wanted to hear no.

He wasn’t going to jeopardise a month’s good work and argue now.

He’d just let it slide.

But she persisted. ‘What about childcare? Nannies versus larger facilities? Maybe you’d be prepared to work twenty hours a week instead of fifty or sixty, so you could do three days at home with the baby one week, two days the next?’

He frowned. Was she serious? ‘Besides other considerations, at this stage in my career that’s not feasible.’

‘But you’d be happy enough for me to give up my career?’

Heartbeat thudding in his ears, he let go of her hand to rake his hair back from his brow. He stared at the ceiling. Clearly swinging her around would need some work. But not now. Plenty of time to discuss what was best for everyone over the coming days and weeks.

His hand found hers again, and this time he squeezed. ‘We’ve just made love. I don’t want to argue.’

‘I’m not being argumentative. I’m addressing issues that need to be addressed, whether we marry or not.’

His jaw tightened. With the dividends from his investments, they would live on the sunnier side of easy street the rest of their lives. He understood she might want to hold on to part of her independence, but after the birth surely she’d want to spend the majority of her time with her own child rather than other people’s?

She cut into his thoughts. ‘I want to show you something.’ Moving her hand from beneath his, she made a fist and presented him with an elevated view of the closed pinky end. ‘See that line between the creases of my hand and curled little finger?’

He looked closer. No, but anyway …

‘That indicates how many children I’ll have,’ she said. ‘I have one line, which means one child.’

Oh, come on, now.

He slanted her hand away and sat up. ‘I don’t believe that old wives’ tale, and neither do you.’ She was angling for a reaction—a way to introduce her next point.

She covered herself with the robe and sat up too. ‘What if I only want one child? What if I want my career, just like you do?’

There were bigger issues that might be better handled, say, a month from now, when he’d completely convinced her that they were getting married and living together with their child, no matter what.

‘How many children would you like, Cooper? And don’t you dare suggest triplets.’

Thoughts of Evangeline and her pregnancy popped into his head. Had their difficulty in conceiving been his or hers? Maybe neither. For some, conception occurred easily. Other couples endured long delays sometimes for no apparent reason. He’d learned recently that a fellow lawyer and his wife had tried for five years, given up, adopted a golden retriever and then last month—bingo! Would he and Sophie fall so easily a second time?

Sophie wanted an honest answer. He’d give her one. ‘I’d like two children—a pigeon pair. But I’ll focus on this one. If he is born healthy, I’ll be happy.’

‘But Cooper—’

Enough!

He tackled her with a silencing kiss. They fell back on the bed, and soon her resistance had melted into acceptance.

As the caress eased and their lips parted, Cooper was gripped by the almighty urge to say …

Something.

I love you?

No. Way too soon. And if he didn’t believe it, neither would she.

But, looking down into those big green cat’s eyes, he felt the heat begin to build again and the want become a need.

Was he falling in love for the first time? More importantly, was Sophie falling for him?

He curved his hand around her crown and slanted his mouth over hers again—neither too hard, nor too soft, but hopefully just right.

Because timing and skill were vital. When he had her heart without reservation—when she was in love with him and couldn’t give up what they had together—then he would have what they all needed most.

His family—their family—safe and sound under one roof.

CHAPTER TWELVE

ONE month later, Paige was home from France, Cooper was still playing nice and Sophie had actually begun to think about diamond rings and white dresses. Not that Cooper was aware—and she wasn’t about to tell him. Not yet. She still wasn’t certain, but …

Maybe soon.

She was daydreaming about Cooper wrapping her in his arms and saying the three little words she longed for and needed to hear when the front door slammed shut. Her heart leaping to her throat, Sophie frowned and shot a look towards the kitchen wall clock. Five past five. Cooper was home early, and it didn’t sound as if he’d had a good day.

Wiping her hands on a teatowel, Sophie tossed a harried glance over the vegetables she’d chopped for tonight’s stir fry. Two months ago, when she’d first moved in, she wouldn’t have believed she’d be standing here behind Cooper’s kitchen sink playing wife. She still wasn’t certain she believed it.

They were yet to work out the dinner thing. He liked big home-cooked meals. She liked to eat out. His housekeeper usually prepared three or four dishes that could be removed from the freezer when needed. But Joan was away, visiting her cousin in Ireland, so Sophie had taken a stab at ‘big’ and ‘home-cooked’. Cooking itself didn’t bother her, but she begrudged the time spent cleaning up afterward. Now Paige was home, she could help.