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

‘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.