Bedded by a Playboy

by Heidi Rice

  No way could he look at her while he did it, though. He walked back over to the window, plunging his fists deep into his pockets. ‘Before you told me you were pregnant, I’d already decided I had to let you go. And it was killing me.’

  ‘What do you mean, you’d decided?’ He could hear the anger in her voice. ‘But I thought you…’

  Monroe swung round, but she’d gone silent, and very still. Beneath the bright light of temper in her eyes, Monroe could see the dark flush of embarrassment, humiliation.

  The guilt swamped him.

  She’d opened herself up to him, had been honest and forthright about her feelings, while he’d been secretive and cowardly, hoarding his emotions like a miser scared to let go of his loot.

  He forced himself to walk back across the room, sit beside her. She straightened, but didn’t move away.

  ‘Jess, I can’t keep saying I’m sorry. What I want to do is tell you the truth.’ He reached for her hands, held on when she tried to tug them out of his grasp.

  ‘You said you wouldn’t touch me. You promised.’ Her voice quivered.

  He stroked the limp palms with his thumbs and looked into her eyes. ‘Don’t cry, Red. I can’t stand it.’

  ‘I’m not crying.’ She sniffed as the first tear fell.

  ‘I love you so much, Red.’ There, at last, he’d said it.

  ‘What?’ She pulled her hands out of his, brushed at her eyes.

  ‘It scared me to death,’ he said. ‘That’s why I let you say it and I never said it back.’

  ‘You can’t say this now, Monroe. I won’t let you.’ He had to admire the steel in her eyes. ‘I don’t believe you.’

  He touched his forehead to hers briefly. ‘I know you don’t, Jess. And I don’t blame you. But it’s the truth, I swear.’

  Somehow Jessie found the strength to stand up, to step away from him. ‘If you loved me you never would have said those things to me.’ Her voice hitched. How dared he tell her this now, when it was too late? ‘If you loved me, Monroe, why did you never ever say it to me?’ Just thinking about how he had rejected her in so many subtle ways brought the anger back. ‘I told you how I felt and I waited like an idiot for you to say it back, but you never did. It was always, “Sure, baby,” or, “That’s nice,” or some other lame response. You made my feelings seem silly and immature.’

  He stood up. She took another step back.

  ‘I didn’t say it because I couldn’t,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Why couldn’t you?’ She could feel the tears running down her cheeks now, but she didn’t stop to brush them away. Why should she feel ashamed of them?

  ‘Jess, no one had ever loved me before the way you did. My mother hated my guts, Linc cared about me, but there was always so much guilt and responsibility between us. No woman I’d ever slept with had meant much more to me than a good lay. I treated them nice when I was with them, but I never missed them when I moved on. With you, right from the start, it was different. The way you turned me on. The way you responded to me. Your honesty, your openness. You never held anything back. You told me you loved me and I was…’ he paused ‘…I was stunned. I knew I didn’t deserve you and knowing I couldn’t keep you was destroying me. If I’d have told you how I felt, it would have just made it harder to let you go.’

  ‘If you couldn’t tell me you loved me—if you knew there was no future—why did you still make love to me?’

  He stopped dead, and his faced flushed.

  ‘Every time we made love, Monroe, you were pulling me in deeper. You must have known that.’

  ‘I did, I guess. I figured it was something I could give you back.’

  Could it get any more humiliating than this? she thought. ‘So now you’re saying I was some kind of mercy lay.’

  ‘Jess.’ He tried to grab her arm but she spun away. ‘I couldn’t keep my hands off you. You weren’t a mercy lay, it was the best sex I’d ever had in my life. When I figured out the reason why, that I was in love with you, it only made it worse. Because I knew it was going to hurt us both when I had to let you go.’

  Jessie frowned. ‘Why do you keep saying that? Why would you have to let me go? What are you talking about?’

  His face was rigid with frustration. ‘Isn’t it obvious? What the hell could I offer you? I was an ex-con, no fixed abode. Living off my brother’s charity like some damn deadbeat. Your dream is to have kids, a family, a home. All I could give you was good sex.’

  ‘Whoa! Hang on just a minute.’ She held up her hand. He actually believed what he was saying, she could see it in his eyes, beneath the anger, the frustration. ‘You’re serious about this?’

  He sank his fists back into his pockets, his voice sharp and annoyed. ‘Of course I am.’

  She couldn’t believe it. He’d rejected her, had put them both through hell, had even convinced himself the baby wasn’t his, out of some twisted sense of gallantry.

  He really did love her. She could see it behind the temper and embarrassment. She felt the heavy, dragging weight that had been lodged in her chest for days begin to lift.

  Her lips quirked, relief warring with disbelief.

  His eyes darkened. ‘What’s so funny?’

  ‘You are, Monroe. You mean to say that because you went to prison all those years ago you thought you weren’t good enough for me?’

  ‘Well, yeah.’ It suddenly sounded dumb to Monroe, too.

  She stepped up to him, placed warm hands on his cheeks. ‘Monroe, you complete fool.’

  Annoyed or not, humiliated or not, he wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to touch her at last. He put his hands on her hips and pulled her closer. ‘So, do you believe that I love you now?’

  She smiled into his eyes, but only said, ‘Hmm.’ He went to wrap his arms around her, but she slipped away, leaving him empty-handed again.

  She pointed a finger at him when he tried to follow her. ‘Don’t come any closer, Monroe,’ she said. ‘I want to get something straight here.’

  Monroe didn’t like that considering look in her eyes, or the fact that she’d been close enough to smell and now she was gone again.

  ‘So you mean to tell me you decided you weren’t good enough for me?’ she said.

  ‘Yeah, that’s right.’ He wasn’t sure where this was leading, but he had a feeling he wasn’t going to like it.

  ‘And you also decided that you were going to let me go.’

  He nodded, warily.

  ‘And then, when I told you I was pregnant, you panicked. You accused me of cheating because—’ she paused for effect ‘—let’s face it, it was easier to jump to that conclusion than to have to actually deal with all those messy emotions that you didn’t want to deal with.’

  At this point, he decided, it was probably best to keep his mouth shut.

  Jessie walked up to him and poked him hard in the chest. He stumbled back, shocked to see the satisfaction in her face when he did.

  ‘And, although when you thought about it you knew I hadn’t slept with someone else,’ she continued, the glint of steel in her eyes making him very nervous, ‘it still took Linc to persuade you to go and get checked out.’

  ‘Okay, so I was an idiot.’ What the hell else did she want from him?

  ‘You weren’t just an idiot, Monroe. You were a coward.’

  He bristled, but looked her square in the eyes and nodded. ‘Yeah. I was.’ He took her arm in a firm grip and pulled her back to him. The tantalising scent of summer flowers made him ache. ‘Jess, just tell me, do you still love me, despite all that?’ He couldn’t wait any longer to know for sure.

  She stared at him for a long time. ‘You know, I’m not sure if it was really love in the first place.’

  It seemed a lifetime ago, Jessie thought as she watched Monroe’s face fall.

  The eager, impulsive, stupidly romantic girl she’d been but a week before was gone. In her place was a woman, with a woman’s heart, a woman’s love and a new life growing inside her.

>   He dropped her arm. He looked bewildered and hurt, but Jessie knew she had to see this through, for both of them. She hadn’t been fair to him, either. She could see that now. She’d put him on a pedestal, when he was just a man—a man who’d been through hell and had all the insecurities to show for it. She hadn’t seen him for what he was. Funny, now she did, she loved him so much more.

  ‘I idolised you,’ she said, thinking back. ‘You were gorgeous, cooler than cool with that Harley and that easy, devil-may-care charm. And you were incredible in bed. You gave me an orgasm.’ The heat throbbed low in her belly at the memory.

  ‘Hey, I gave you a lot more than just one,’ he said—rather testily, she thought.

  ‘But it wasn’t really love. It was infatuation. I can see that now.’

  ‘Well, thanks a bunch.’ He sounded angry but she could see the pain in his eyes. ‘I’ve bared my damn soul and now you’re telling me you don’t love me.’

  ‘Now, now, don’t get all surly.’ It was cruel to tease him, but she couldn’t help it. Maybe she wanted him to suffer, just a little bit. ‘Even though it suits you.’

  ‘What, you think this is funny?’ Okay, so he was shooting past surly straight to furious.

  ‘No, what I’m saying is, I didn’t love you then, because I didn’t know you. You were some ridiculous white knight, to me. A romantic dream I could never have. Of course, that all came tumbling down when you told me you thought I’d cheated on you.’

  He groaned. ‘Please, can we forget about that?’ He slid his hands round her waist, looked relieved when she didn’t pull away.

  ‘I’m sorry, Monroe, but that one’s going to get thrown at you every time we have a row. And I’m telling you now that every time it does I’m going to love you more.’

  His eyes flared with hope. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I said, I’ll love you even more, Monroe.’ She ran her hands up his back, felt the tension ease out of his shoulders. ‘Because I’ll know that you’re not a white knight, or some super cool dude who’s too damn gorgeous for me. I’ll know that you’re really surly and unsure of yourself and, like most men, don’t know a damn thing about how to express your feelings. You’ve got just as many hang-ups—actually you’ve got a lot more hang-ups than I have. And a chip on your shoulder the size of a Californian redwood.’

  ‘Hold on a minute.’

  She grabbed hold of his hair and kissed him hard on the lips before he could say anything else.

  ‘But you know what?’ she said.

  ‘What?’ He looked really confused now.

  Jessie felt the love inside her swell to impossible proportions.

  ‘You’re mine. With all your problems and daft ideas about yourself. We’re going to have this baby and it’s going to be loved and cherished by both of us and when it drives us nuts—and it will—we’ll know how to deal with it. Because we learnt the hard way, having to deal with each other.’

  ‘You think?’ The cocksure grin she knew so well spread across his face, making her blood heat. ‘So, let me get this straight,’ he said. ‘You’re saying you do love me, now?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘No, I don’t think so.’ He hugged her tight, lifted her off the ground. ‘Uh-huh won’t do it. You’ve got to say it.’

  ‘Oh, all right, if you insist.’ She wanted to sound miffed, but the lilt in her voice, the joy leaping in her breast, made it impossible. ‘But only if I get another orgasm—and soon.’

  ‘You got it.’ He grinned, put strong hands on her butt and pulled her against him so she could feel the hot, hard length of his arousal through his jeans. ‘Now say it, Red.’

  ‘I love you to bits, you big oaf.’

  ‘Okay, that’s it.’ He swung her up into his arms, and strode across the room heading for the bedroom door with her high in his arms. ‘One orgasm coming right up.’

  She laughed, clung onto his neck and covered his lips with hers.

  EPILOGUE

  ‘WILL you sit down? You’re nearly six months pregnant, woman.’

  ‘My point exactly, darling. I’m pregnant, not an invalid.’ Jessie grinned at Monroe’s annoyed expression. ‘I think the hormones must be messing with my brain cells. But I’m actually finding that Lord and Master routine of yours quite a turn on.’

  Monroe put his hands around her waist, caressed the soft swell of her belly. Arousal dimmed the annoyance in his eyes. ‘I’m warning you, Mrs Latimer.’ He pulled her to him, dropped his voice to a whisper. ‘If you don’t do as you’re told, you’re gonna pay.’

  Jessie wedged her hands against his chest. ‘Don’t you dare kiss me here, Monroe. It’ll end up in the morning papers.’

  She peered over his shoulder at the beautiful people that thronged around them, resplendent in their Christmas finery. The clink of champagne glasses and animated conversation, mostly being conducted in loud New York accents, echoed off the art gallery’s bare brick walls. Even though they were discreetly tucked away in a corner, she could see their little embrace had already attracted attention.

  She eased Monroe back. ‘Stop pestering me and go and do some more schmoozing. You’re the star attraction tonight, remember.’

  It was the opening of Monroe’s second show at Carole Jackson’s elegant New York gallery. Even on Christmas Eve, with the traffic a misery outside and the weather even worse, the space was crammed with the art world’s movers and shakers.

  Monroe gave a frustrated sigh. He kept his arm around her waist as he turned to survey the crowd. ‘I guess I can give it another twenty minutes. But that’s it. I hate these things.’

  Jessie smiled. Four months as the darling of the Manhattan art scene and Monroe Latimer was still embarrassed by his own success.

  She could still remember that first dizzying showing when she’d still been plagued by morning sickness and had been sporting a shiny new ring on her wedding finger.

  Carole Jackson had got the press salivating beforehand, by feeding them stories about the handsome bad boy who was about to conquer New York. How Monroe had hated that. But over the next month, with his face plastered over every art magazine in the country, even Monroe had to admit that some of the agony had been worth it.

  Since then his painting and his celebrity had gone through the stratosphere. His work was hanging in the homes of Hollywood stars, European princes and even on the walls of the White House. Only the day before, they’d been out doing some last-minute Christmas shopping at Bloomingdales and Monroe had been asked for his autograph three times. He’d cringed with embarrassment every time.

  ‘I’m afraid it’s all part of the package, honey,’ Jessie said, the pride in her voice helping it rise above the noise of the chattering crowd.

  Monroe gave her waist a quick squeeze. ‘Okay, I’ll go butter them up some more, but only if you promise to get off your feet for ten minutes.’

  ‘Stop being such an old woman,’ she said mutinously. ‘I feel fine.’

  He lifted his head. ‘There’s Linc and Ali. Great—they can keep an eye on you.’

  Jessie followed his gaze to see her sister and brother-in-law weaving their way towards them.

  Easy kisses and warm greetings were exchanged. Linc got to Jessie first, giving her a kiss on the cheek. ‘Jess, you look gorgeous. How are you feeling?’

  Jessie patted her protruding stomach, which was prominently displayed in the strapless velvet evening dress she was wearing. ‘Wonderful. Now if you could just explain that to your brother.’

  ‘She’s been on her feet all day,’ Monroe grumbled. ‘What with her job at Cullen’s and now this.’ Monroe shot Jessie an exasperated look. ‘She needs to sit down.’

  ‘For goodness’ sake, Monroe,’ Jessie replied. ‘I’m perfectly healthy. I feel absolutely fine. Will you stop obsessing about it?’

  Jessie would have said more, but Linc slung an arm around Monroe’s shoulder. ‘Come on, little brother. Let’s go get a beer, and I’ll explain the fine art of how not to annoy a
pregnant lady.’ Winking at Jessie, he drew Monroe away.

  Jessie watched as the two men pushed their way to the bar, Monroe fending off the throng of reporters, dignitaries and art lovers who kept trying to waylay him.

  ‘I love the way Linc says that as if he’s some kind of expert.’ Ali threaded her arm through Jessie’s. ‘He never stopped trying to wrap me in cotton wool during both my pregnancies.’

  Jessie grinned; she could just imagine. ‘Well, Monroe needs any help he can get. He’s still moaning on about how I don’t need to work and why don’t I give up the job at Cullen’s now that he’s doing so well. I think he expects me to sit at home all day and stare at the ceiling. Just to be on the safe side.’

  Ali laughed, then rubbed her hand over Jessie’s bump. ‘It’s only because he’s completely besotted with you—and the baby. I think it’s sweet.’

  Searching the room for Monroe, Jessie smiled when she spotted him, looking gorgeous and irritated as a reporter gesticulated madly in front of him.

  ‘You got your dream, then, Jessie?’ Ali said quietly beside her.

  Jessie thought back to the summer and all the dreams she’d spun when she’d first fallen in love with Monroe.

  ‘Not exactly,’ she said eventually. ‘My dreams didn’t include stretch marks, or enormous boobs.’ Ali started to laugh. ‘Or puking my guts up for three months solid.’

  Ali wiped a tear of mirth from her cheek. ‘I’ll bet Monroe hasn’t complained about the boobs once.’

  Both sisters laughed.

  It was another hour before Monroe managed to muscle Jessie towards the gallery’s front doors. As he grabbed his wife’s coat from the hat-check girl, he was feeling agitated, annoyed and more than a little sexually frustrated. He’d been trying to figure out all evening how that sexy dress stayed up.

  He grinned as he held the door open for his wife. The surprise he had planned should get things rolling in the right direction at last. Not too much longer to wait before he got his answer.

  A cold blast of winter air hit Monroe as he stepped through the gallery’s stately glass doors. He tucked Jessie’s coat around her shoulders, grabbed her hand and pulled her out onto the sidewalk. Cab horns blasted and the frigid wind whipped down the street, stirring the grey sludge that had been pristine white snow only that morning. Emmy would be thrilled, he thought, if they got snow in Long Island for Christmas Day.