Her Not-So-Secret Diary

by Anne Oliver

  Unlike Melissa, who shared no apparent familial traits with Jared, Crystal was the feminine epitome of her brother. Same tall, dark, green-eyed attractiveness. And looking amazing considering she’d given birth only a week ago.

  They chatted a few moments while Crystal unloaded an unlikely selection of disposable nappies, pâté and crackers and a fresh pineapple from Jared’s eco-bag. She was as easy-going as Melissa. Both sisters obviously thought the world of Jared and seemed to be ever-so-subtly interested in Sophie’s life.

  Sophie was starting to relax and think that it was about time they got moving when Crystal said, ‘You have to meet Arabella before you go.’

  Oh. Sophie bit the inside of her lip. ‘I wouldn’t want to disturb…’

  But Crystal was already leading the way and the last thing Sophie wanted to do was offend the new mother in any way, shape or form. These days she was experienced at masking her feelings. No one would know that inside where it was just her, her heart was still crying over her once-in-a-million miracle that had never had a chance.

  Sophie could smell the baby’s room from the end of the hall. It streamed through her senses. The lovely soft scent of powder and silky skin and newness. Crystal showed her into the room and Sophie made a valiant attempt to lose the melancholy.

  Jared was leaning over the bassinet, stroking the infant’s cheek. And he was the one making goo-goo noises. He turned when they entered, his expression full of pride and pleasure. ‘She’s just waking up.’ He looked to his sister. ‘May I?’

  Crystal set a pile of baby clothes on the blanket box. ‘Go right ahead. Just remember the clean nappy by your left arm’s included in part of the picking-up ritual.’

  ‘Fine by me.’

  Somewhere a phone rang. ‘I’ll just get that,’ she said and left the room.

  Sophie watched Jared pick his niece up with infinite tenderness and care, cradling her fuzzy-topped head in his palm. The rest of her fitted snug along the length of his forearm.

  ‘There you are, princess.’ There was a smile and love in his voice as he tucked her closer. ‘Uncle Jared’s got you, you lucky girl, you.’ Princess chewed on her fist while unfocused eyes of an indefinable colour stared up at him.

  Sophie had never seen anything more beautiful or more powerful than the sight of this tiny fragile infant against Jared’s tanned, hard and muscular arms. It was one of those life-affirming moments and the pity of it was that she didn’t think uncle noticed.

  Made for fatherhood. The fleeting thought skimmed the edge of her consciousness. She’d heard people talking about a woman being made to be a mother but had never applied the parenthood tag to a male. But yes, she thought, watching the muscles in his arms twist and bunch as he adjusted his hold, that was what he was. His arms were as capable of holding babies as they’d be accomplished at holding a woman.

  Her heart swelled and blossomed and seemed to open up like the petals of a flower.

  Because right here, right now, she was falling for him.

  It wasn’t his looks or wealth or charm, they were just side benefits. No, it was much more basic and simple than that. It was his underlying goodness, his empathy for others, his honesty. Core values she shared.

  One day he’d make some woman very happy. His wife, the mother of his children would never want for anything. But it wouldn’t be Sophie. It couldn’t be Sophie.

  His eyes looked unexpectedly her way, catching her watching him. Catching her thoughts? She hoped not, and drew herself up, eyeballing him boldly, daring him to take issue with them.

  But he only said, ‘Want a hold?’

  At first she was afraid her voice wouldn’t work, but luckily her ‘not today,’ didn’t carry the emotion she held inside. She forced a laugh to cover the wretched awkwardness. ‘I’d probably drop her or something.’

  ‘No, you wouldn’t.’ He stared at her a moment, eyes slightly narrowed. She could see the questions shuffling behind his eyes.

  ‘Babies and I don’t hit it off.’ She shrugged carelessly. ‘They take one look at me and it’s waterworks.’

  ‘Not with Arabella, she’s too young yet.’ He kissed her nose. ‘Aren’t you, sweetheart?’ But to Sophie’s relief he didn’t pursue her protest, preferring to talk some more ga-ga to his niece. He lowered the infant onto the change table and managed the nappy-change process with the same skill and confidence he used to conduct a business meeting.

  And, oh… Rather than detract from Jared’s powerful masculinity, the child he tended simply added another dimension to the already multifaceted man she was coming to know. Her legs almost sagged beneath her and something rolled over in her chest. She was, without a doubt, looking at a picture-perfect poster for the sexiest man alive.

  She turned away.

  She needed to remember a couple of important things. One. Jared wasn’t a one-woman man. Second, she was leaving Australia. And top of the list, she reminded herself a man who loved kids this much could never be the man for her.

  No man could.

  CHAPTER NINE

  SINCE Sophie had never travelled up this way and seemed so enraptured with the passing scenery, Jared let her indulge in relative silence, pointing out places of interest on the way.

  One thing was certain, she wasn’t looking for home and family. He’d seen the almost panicked look in her eyes when he’d asked her if she wanted to hold Arabella. He drummed his fingers lightly on the steering wheel as Brisbane’s hazy skyline came into view in the distance.

  She was the most skittish woman around babies he’d ever seen. She’d shown zero interest in the baby shop in Coolangatta. Too much so, in fact. Had only met Arabella because basic courtesy required it. She’d admitted she had no interest in tying herself down with kids.

  Like someone else he’d known. Bianca had kept her no-kids policy to herself until she’d discovered Jared intended Melissa to be a part of their lives after they married. Bianca might have reconsidered his proposal but he knew it would never have worked in the long run. He’d counted himself lucky he’d found out before he’d made a commitment. No second chances.

  At least with Sophie he knew everything up front. Short term was all they were looking for. When it happened, his children would be wanted and loved by both parents. But settling down was years into the future. The years he should have been out drinking till dawn and getting laid had been spent being a responsible guardian to his sisters, and he had some catching up to do.

  He was looking forward to doing some of that catching up with Sophie these next couple of days.

  ‘Spectacular, don’t you agree?’

  Jared’s voice somewhere behind her, plush velvet stroking over her shoulders and down her back.

  ‘Very.’ Sophie stood in the middle of the room, not knowing where to look first. This palatial riverfront home was their home for the next couple of days. And nights.

  It was the ever-present thoughts about those nights that had her nerves twitching and her hormones bouncing like lottery balls on a Saturday night. She quashed them quickly, focusing on the here and now. It was more than spectacular, it was over-the-top dazzling.

  White-tiled flooring and furniture flowed outwards in all directions, giving the impression it went on for ever. A few touches of blue and lime green in the cushions or decorative art invoked a cool sense of peace and tranquillity. Extending out from the patio was a private jetty where one could moor their luxury yacht, and on the other side of the river in the reddening haze of sunset she could see other multimillion-dollar homes.

  Turn to the right and she could see the master bedroom and its snowy white king-size bed reflected in the turquoise infinity pool off the main living area. Floor-to-ceiling sliding glass doors in both rooms virtually allowed one to swim to the bedroom if one so desired.

  Of course they’d taken separate bedrooms. One had to act the part of a PA to begin with at least and she still needed some privacy at this point in their relationship.

  Right now her tho
ughts were on the upcoming business dinner in a little over an hour and she needed to turn herself into the professional Jared expected. She didn’t have time for the heat she saw in his eyes that promised to make them late.

  ‘I’m…ah…going to jump in the shower.’

  His eyes darkened. ‘Do you need your back scrubbed?’

  Her blood warmed, her skin tingled. He hadn’t moved a muscle but Sophie had the impression he’d come closer. She had no doubt he was well skilled in scrubbing backs, making fast, furious love and getting to his meetings on time.

  Not her… At least she didn’t think so. ‘Do you want this new client on your books?’ she said, turning away before she decided to test the theory for herself. She headed for the refuge of her en-suite bathroom.

  She felt the smile in his voice when, from behind her, he said, ‘If you change your mind just give a yell.’

  Her lips curved. ‘If you hear me yell you have my full permission to come right on in and to hell with being professionally punctual,’ she tossed over her shoulder as she walked away.

  As refuges went it was a marble palace—all white with gold fittings, fernery spilling from hanging pots and warm down-lights that turned her paler-than-average skin colour—especially the parts not normally exposed—a flattering honey tone. She twisted her hair up and clasped it on top of her head.

  Setting the water to moderately hot, she stepped beneath the spray. Under the circumstances she really didn’t need hot, but when it came to her shower she was a creature of habit…

  A squelchy squirming sensation beneath her toes had her jumping back and glancing down. She saw a centipede—longer and thicker than her middle finger—its hideous body writhing in the shower stall at her feet. And they bite…

  But it was the way it thrashed about that had the blood-curdling scream springing from her lips while her fingers scrabbled for the shower-screen door. Get out! Get out!

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Loud knocking on the door. ‘Sophie?’

  ‘Get it out!’ Through the glass enclosure, she was aware of Jared bursting into the room but her eyes were pinned to the sight inches from her toes while she struggled to open the door. She finally got the door to slide and all but fell out of the shower, backing up as far away as she could. ‘That…that…’ It was all she could get past her constricted throat.

  Shutting the water off, Jared reached for the wooden handled back scrub hanging beneath the shower head and she screwed her eyes shut…

  Water trickled down her cooling body as she clasped her arms around her and heard a series of loud knocks. A convulsive shiver shuddered down her spine. ‘Oh, God.’ She didn’t want to know how he’d done it, only that he had. ‘Is it dead? Is it gone?’

  ‘It’s dead.’ She heard the toilet flush. ‘And now it’s gone.’

  A tortured sigh escaped her lips. Only then did she take it all in. She was naked. He wore jeans, nothing else. She slid her eyes to his, willing him to do the same.

  To his gentlemanly credit, his gaze remained locked with hers. Not even a flicker of a glance where it shouldn’t go. He reached for a towel on the rail beside him, passed it to her.

  ‘Thanks.’ She grabbed it and pulled it in front of herself. Shivering. With cold or relief or excitement? ‘Just so you know, I’m not one of those squealy women,’ she felt compelled to point out. ‘Normally. But those…’ She shuddered again.

  ‘Okay.’ He didn’t move a muscle. But there was a flicker of movement at one corner of his mouth saying maybe he believed her, maybe not.

  ‘I’m going to get back in there now,’ she said, as much to herself as to him. Then another flesh-crawling thought… ‘You don’t think it came up the drain, do you? What if it has a mate somewhere…’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe you should let me stay here and make sure.’ There was a roguish light in those eyes, a hint of the devil in his chivalrous words. He reached into the stall and switched the water back on for her.

  Then—and she didn’t know what demon possessed her…yes she did and his name was Jared Sanderson—she tossed the towel on the floor and stepped under the water. ‘Maybe I should.’ Her heart was hammering, her blood coursing hotly through her veins. Take a chance, be that sensual woman you want to be. Knowing she was starting something she might not be able to stop, keeping her back to him, she dangled her soap-filled sponge-on-a-string over one shoulder. ‘And maybe I should let you be useful and wash my back while you wait.’

  She felt him take the sponge and, oh, that first glide across her shoulders was warm, slow and reassuringly impersonal. Another pass, this time down her spine, stopping at her waist. Then pressure at the base of her neck.

  She inhaled sharply. ‘That’s not my sponge…’

  ‘No.’

  Thumbs. Working tensed muscles in her neck. Then hands. Slick, soapy hands that began at her nape and slid across her shoulders. Down either side of her spine and over the curve of her waist, fingers both tantalisingly close to the sides of her breasts and frustratingly far away.

  And she maybe shouldn’t have let him start… Her breathing grew heavy. So did her breasts—heavy and tight and full. She wanted to turn around and let him give them the same slow, slick attention.

  His hands slid lower and cupped her bottom. Her feminine core grew hot, her breaths quickened. But when his thumbs dipped between her butt cheeks, then lightly down the backs of her thighs, her legs sagged and she braced her hands on the tiles in front of her for support. ‘Jared.’

  ‘Right here, honey,’ he murmured, his lips so close she could feel his breath hot on her ear. He’d stepped into the shower—she could smell the wet denim—but the only part of him in contact with her were his hands.

  And what contact.

  ‘This was a bad idea…’ She gasped when his exploration grew bolder, his fingers delved deeper. Too deep. Not nearly deep enough…

  ‘You don’t really think that,’ he assured her.

  ‘Oh. Yes. I. Do.’ She was so breathless she couldn’t seem to get out more than one word at a time between shallow gulps of air.

  ‘So you want me to stop…’ His hands moved away.

  ‘Yes. No,’ she moaned.

  She heard his soft chuckle, then sent up a prayer of thanks when his newly soaped-up hands skimmed her waist and came around to cup her breasts. Holding their weight in his palms, he massaged and teased, swirling his fingertips around her tight nipples and sending sensation spiralling to her core and lower, between her thighs.

  Steam billowed and swirled around them like an intimate cloak. Just the two of them in their own private steam bath. The water pelting her now oversensitised body felt like hot hailstones and sounded harsh in the stall’s confines.

  She squirmed as the ache between her legs intensified. Moving her legs farther apart, she arched her back and begged him silently to, ‘Touch me.’

  She hadn’t realised she’d spoken aloud but her whispered plea sounded harsh and desperate in the humid air and not like her at all. And then one of his hands was between her thighs, fingernails cruising along her slippery cleft, the fingers of his other hand rolling a nipple, teasing it into almost unbearable hardness.

  ‘Like this?’ he whispered against her ear and plunged his fingers inside her. He withdrew them slowly, drawing out the wetness along her sensitised flesh and making her moan some more.

  Her legs trembled like stalks of wheat in a rain storm. She leaned her forehead against the cool tiles as well as her hands. ‘Yes.’ Exactly like that.

  He repeated his exquisite torture. And again. Over and over, each thrust of his fingers more erotic, more persuasive. His lips nuzzled her neck then bit gently, possessively, and his voice was thick with arousal when he said, ‘You’re so hot. So deliciously wet.’

  His explicit words, the skilful way he touched her, as if he’d known her body for years, the sound of his voice against her ear sent her soaring up, up, up. Over the silky precipice on a low heartfelt cry, her body convulsing a
round his fingers.

  ‘Oh. Wow,’ she whispered when she’d got her breath back. His hands trailed over her thighs, then away.

  But when she finally turned, she saw nothing but steam and a trail of water across the tiles. He was gone.

  Like a dream.

  How did you walk into a room to face your boss as if you hadn’t just been given the most intense orgasm of your life? Sophie wondered as she stared at her reflection in the bedroom mirror. She adjusted the collar on the cream dress and asked herself how did you face that boss, the one who’d given you that orgasm, over a business dinner as if your private parts weren’t still on fire and already aching for more?

  Grabbing her jacket and purse from the chair, she headed for the living room. She was about to find out.

  He was wearing a charcoal suit and baby-blue pinstriped shirt with matching blue tie and watching the local news on the ginormous flat-screen TV on the wall. His short hair was still damp and his fresh foresty scent drifted in the warm air.

  His gaze flicked to hers across the expanse of tiled floor. Dark, hungry, slightly desperate. As if he wanted to eat her alive and wanted nothing to do with her at the same time. And she could hardly blame him. As earth-shattering as her climax had been, it hadn’t exactly been a mutually shared and satisfying experience.

  ‘Hi,’ she said, since he didn’t seem inclined to speak.

  He looked her up and down, then his eyes lingered on her bare legs and she saw his jaw clench.

  ‘Is it too short? It’s too short.’ She should have gone for the mid-calf green instead of the above-the-knee. Thoughtless under the circumstances. ‘I’ll ch—’

  ‘It’s not too short.’ He cleared the huskiness from his throat and a little of the tension eased from his features. ‘It’s fine just the way it is. You look lovely.’