by Heidi Rice
‘What’s the deal, Ella?’ he probed, already sounding suspicious. ‘How long have you known about this?’
She sighed. ‘Four weeks.’
She tensed at the muffled curse as the cab stopped outside the station hotel.
‘Great.’ He didn’t say another word, just paid the cabbie and ushered her into the Renaissance’s grand lobby area.
Every time she’d passed the historic hotel since its renovation a few years ago, she’d wondered what it looked like inside. But she barely registered the lavish vaulted ceiling or the plush interior design as his palm settled on the small of her back, and he directed her to the elevators.
His suite on the third floor had a spiral wrought-iron staircase that curved onto a second level, and original Gothic arched windows that looked down onto the station concourse. But as he poured out the bottle of sparkling mineral water she’d requested into a glass filled with ice it wasn’t the hotel’s palatial elegance she found intimidating.
‘Okay, so now I want to know—why the delay?’ He helped himself to a cola from the room’s bar. ‘Because I’ve got to tell you, I’m not feeling real happy about the fact that you’ve known about this kid for a month and you didn’t get in touch.’
She’d been expecting the question ever since they’d arrived. And had prepared an answer. But she paused to take a hasty gulp of the icy, effervescent water.
She didn’t want to tell him how she’d initially panicked about his reaction. Because then she’d have to tell him about Randall, and the child she’d lost. And she didn’t see how that would serve any purpose now. Except to make her look bad. And she looked bad enough already.
‘Stop stalling, Ella,’ he murmured, watching her over the rim of his glass. And she had the disconcerting thought again that he seemed to be able to read her a lot easier than she was able to read him.
‘All right,’ she huffed, perching on a bar stool. ‘If you must know, I did an internet search to get your details, so I could contact you.’ This wasn’t lying, she justified, it was simply failing to tell the whole truth. ‘And, well...’ Okay, maybe this part of the truth made her seem a little pathetic. But pathetic she could live with.
‘And...?’ he prompted, as if he didn’t already know what she was going to say.
‘I thought you were a freelance boat captain who lived in a one-room beach shack. I wasn’t expecting to discover your name mentioned as one of the top young entrepreneurs in the Caribbean. It was disconcerting.’
He sent her an unapologetic smile.
What was so funny?
‘And totally unexpected,’ she added. ‘I needed time to adjust to that before contacting you. So I waited, probably a bit longer than I should have.’
‘A bit?’ The grin spread as he propped himself on the bar stool next to her and nudged her knee with his. Crowding her personal space. ‘Four weeks is an awful lot of adjustment time, don’t you think? And you never did contact me, honey. I came to you.’
‘There was an awful lot to adjust to.’ She raised her chin. He’d tricked her, and pretended to be someone he wasn’t. Surely she was entitled to be a little miffed about that? ‘It made me realise that I didn’t really know anything about you, and that scared me.’
‘You knew the important stuff.’ He ran his thumb across her bottom lip.
‘Don’t.’ She jerked back, the sudden touch almost as shocking as the tenderness in his eyes.
‘You scare pretty easy, don’t you, Ella?’ The probing gaze made her feel as if he could see through her T-shirt and jeans to the naked, needy girl she’d once been. ‘Why is that?’
She tried to regulate her staggered breathing, unable to take her eyes off his.
Sexual desire was something she could handle. Would handle. But she didn’t want to need him. To need any man. Not again.
‘Do you think we could talk about the baby now?’ she said. ‘I have to get back to work.’
* * *
‘Sure.’ Coop shrugged, the tension in his shoulder blades nothing compared to the kick of need in his crotch.
Damn, he wanted her again: that lush mouth on his, those hard nipples grinding against his chest, the hot, wet heat gripping him like a velvet glove.
And he was pretty damn sure she wanted him too.
He could smell her arousal, the spicy scent of her need, ever since she’d climbed into the cab and sat stiffly in the far corner, as if she was worried she’d spontaneously combust if she got too close.
She still fascinated him, and excited him. And even though he kept telling himself hooking up with her again had the potential to turn this mess into a total disaster—another part of him was thinking this mess couldn’t get much bigger if it tried. So why should they deny themselves? Only problem was, he wasn’t sure if that part of him was the part that was supposed to be doing the thinking, or a part that was positioned a lot further south.
He had to admit he was also very curious, as well as kind of touched, by her reaction when she’d discovered the truth about Dive Guys and his wealth. Wouldn’t most women feel entitled to hit him for some kind of compensation? Especially once they found out how much he was worth? Instead of that she’d ‘needed time to adjust’? What was with that? One thing, it sure didn’t make him feel any better about having accused her of setting him up.
He poured the last of his cola into his glass, took a long swig to buy himself some time and figure out what to do now.
She hadn’t said anything, the expectation in her face tempered by wariness. As if she was worried about what he was going to say, but determined to put the best possible spin on it.
‘The way I see it, Ella,’ he began, acknowledging that it was definitely a strike in his favour that she was so easy to read, ‘however this happened, we’re both going to be parents of the same kid. And you’re right, we don’t know nearly enough about each other.’ He let his eyes wander over her torso, vindicated by the bullet points thrusting against the tight cotton of her T. ‘Except in the most basic sense.’ He slugged down the last of the cola, and let the cool caffeinated liquid soothe his parched throat. ‘How about you come back to Bermuda for a couple of weeks?’ The offer came out of his mouth before he’d really had a chance to consider it, but it instantly felt right when her eyes lit up with delighted astonishment. ‘And while you’re there we can iron out how we’re going to handle stuff once the kid’s born.’
‘You want to be involved? In the baby’s life?’ She sounded so overjoyed, he had to bite the inside of his mouth to keep from grinning back at her. Was it really going to be that easy?
‘Of course I do. It’s my kid too, isn’t it?’
‘Well, yes. Yes, it is.’ She flattened her hands across her abdomen, in that protective gesture that he was beginning to realise was entirely instinctive. And totally genuine.
His heartbeat slowed at the evidence of how much the baby meant to her already, even though it was probably no bigger than a shrimp. Then fluttered uncomfortably, at the knowledge that his child was unlikely to ever mean that much to him.
He could do responsibility, and loyalty, and commitment, up to a point. But the kind of blind faith and trust you needed to care about someone more than you cared about yourself? Forget it. He knew he’d never be able to do that again.
* * *
‘What on earth do you mean you’re going to Bermuda?’ Ruby stared. ‘For how long?’
‘I’m not sure, probably only a fortnight. He suggested I get an open ticket, but I doubt it’ll take longer than that.’ Although she had to admit she’d been impossibly touched when he’d sounded concerned that two weeks might not be enough time to sort out ‘all the baby stuff’.
‘Are you completely bonkers?’ Ruby propped her hands on her hips, the belligerent stance one Ella recognised.
‘He’s invit
ed me and I think it’s a good idea.’ She sprinkled edible pink glitter onto the swirl of buttercream icing. And placed the finished cupcake onto the tower she was assembling for a nine-year-old’s birthday party, refusing to make eye contact with her friend. She’d expected this reaction. It didn’t mean she was going to enjoy dealing with it. She hated arguing with Ruby. ‘We’re having a child together. I’d like him to be involved if he wants to be, but I need to know a lot more about him to make that a realistic possibility. Especially as we live so far apart.’ She’d thought it all out, and it all made perfect sense.
Ruby tapped her foot. ‘So why can’t he stay in London so you can sort all that out here?’
Ella sighed, and wiped sugary hands on her apron. ‘He has a business to run.’
‘So do you.’ Ruby went straight for the jugular.
‘I know it’s not a good time.’ Ella faced her friend, and shook off the sting of guilt. They were already having to take out a loan to cover the extra staffing costs while she went on maternity leave, but... ‘It will be good for Sally and Gemma to have a trial run with you supervising before I have the baby and I’ve got enough saved to cover the cost of their wages while I’m away.’
‘You know very well this has nothing to do with the money,’ Ruby pointed out. ‘What about your antenatal appointments? What if something happens with the baby?’
‘Coop’s arranged for the top obstetrician on the island to handle my care while I’m there.’ Even if he had gone a little pale when she’d mentioned the problem. ‘But it’s unlikely to be more than a couple of weeks. I’ll still only be four months when I get back.’
‘Fine, well, now for the biggie.’ Ruby threw up her hands in exasperation. ‘What about the fact that Cooper Delaney is a complete jerk who accused you of being a gold-digger, and a liar and had you in floods of tears less than twenty-four hours ago? How do you know you can trust him not to be a jerk again once you’re stuck in Bermuda with him?’
I don’t.
Ella pushed away the doubt. He’d lost the plot when she’d told him about the baby, but he’d apologised for that and she knew he meant it. And anyway, this really wasn’t about her. ‘He’s the father of my child and he’s giving me a chance to get to know him better. Surely you can see I have to take it?’
‘Umm-hmm. And you don’t find it the tiniest bit suspicious that twenty-four hours after totally flipping out about this pregnancy he suddenly wants to be so intimately involved in it...’ Ruby paused for effect ‘...and you.’
‘Maybe.’ Of course she’d thought about it. After the initial euphoria at his offer, she’d calmed down enough to realise his sudden interest in the baby might not be the only reason he’d asked her to come to Bermuda.
But that didn’t alter the fact that he was the father of her child. And she did want him to be involved. And that going to Bermuda was the only way to find out if they could make that happen.
‘You’re absolutely determined to do this, aren’t you?’ Ruby sounded pained.
‘Yes.’
Ruby cursed sharply, defeated. ‘I guess it’s my own fault. If I hadn’t interfered and encouraged you to nail Captain Studly in the first place, you wouldn’t be in this situation.’
Ella grasped Ruby’s cheeks, forcing her gaze back to hers. ‘What situation? Getting the chance to have a child of my own? Getting to experience the miracle of becoming a mum? Something I was sure would never be possible? That situation?’
Ruby sent her a lopsided smile. ‘Okay, point taken. But do me a favour, okay?’
‘What favour?’
‘Don’t let all your happy over the pregnancy blind you to the truth about what’s really going on with him. You have a tendency to always want to see the best in people, Ella. And that’s one of the things I love about you. But try to be a little bit cautious this time.’
‘If this is about what happened with Randall, you don’t have to worry.’ Ella threaded her fingers through Ruby’s and held on. ‘I’m not going into this blind. I learnt that lesson when I was eighteen I’ll never fall in love that easily again.’ She’d made that mistake with Randall, and her baby had paid the price. ‘But I refuse to go into this scared either.’
She needed to take some risks, to solve the fascinating enigma that was Cooper Delaney. A man who had the laid-back, laconic charm of a beach bum, but had the drive and ambition to build a multimillion-dollar empire from nothing. A man who could worry about the child growing in her womb when they made love, and yet look at her with a hunger that burned right down to her soul.
She wanted to understand him—to know how he really felt about this pregnancy and this baby and her—but only so he could play an active role in her child’s life.
She wasn’t looking for anything else. She was sure of it.
NINE
‘How was the trip?’ Coop reached in to grab her suitcase as Ella stepped out of the air-conditioned taxi into the sheltered carport rimmed by palm trees and flowering vines at the back of his property.
She fanned her face with the wide-brimmed straw hat she’d bought at the airport as the afternoon heat enveloped her. Bermuda in April had been in the mid-seventies and pleasantly hot; in late July it was hitting the high eighties and seemed to be sucking the life-force right out of her tired limbs.
‘Good. Thank you.’ She huffed to stop her sweaty hair sticking to her forehead as Coop paid the driver and waved him off.
The truth was it had been better than good, when she’d arrived at Gatwick Airport to discover the economy class ticket she’d insisted on purchasing herself, despite several terse emails from Coop before she left London, had been upgraded to first class. The added benefits of a three-course cordon bleu meal and a fold-down bed had made the eight-hour flight pass in a haze of anticipation. But now she was here, the impact of seeing him again was making the crows of doubt swoop like vultures in her stomach.
‘I appreciated the upgrade, but you really didn’t need to do that.’ She wanted to make it absolutely clear she did not expect him to bankroll her.
Picking up her suitcase, he slung her carry-on bag under his arm. ‘Sure I did.’ His gaze skimmed down to her midriff before he sent her an assured grin. ‘No baby of mine travels coach.’
The vultures in her stomach soared upward to flap around her heart and she stood like a dummy, stupidly touched by the reference to their child.
‘Come here.’ Resting his hand on her waist, he directed her towards the wooden steps that led out of the carport and into the back of the house. ‘Let’s get you out of this heat.’
The stairs led to the wide veranda of a white, wood-framed house that rose from the grove of palms to stand on a rocky outcropping. She’d admired the modern, two-storey colonial structure as they wound down the drive from the main gate. Up close, the building was dominated by the large windows covered by louvred shutters. The house appeared cool and airy even before they stepped off the veranda into a palatial, high-ceilinged living area that opened onto a wraparound porch, which looked down onto the cove below.
Dumping her bag and suitcase at the base of a curving staircase that led to the second level, Coop leaned against the balustrade and smiled. In a faded red and black Bermuda College T-shirt and ragged jeans, his bare feet bronze against the oak flooring, he looked more like the beach bum she remembered than the suited executive she’d found so intimidating in London.
‘So what do you think? Better than the hut, right?’
She swung round to take in the view and give herself a moment to regain the power of speech. Expensive, luxury furnishings—including a couple of deep-seated leather sofas, a huge flatscreen TV, a bar framed in glass bricks and a walled fireplace—adorned the tidy, minimalist living area. She stepped through the open doors onto the deck, hoping that the sea breeze would cool the heat rising up her neck. And spotted
the edge of an infinity pool, sparkling on the terrace below the house. Steps carved into the stone led down through the grove of palms and banana trees, probably to the beach at Half-Moon Cove.
The cosy, ramshackle beach hut where they’d conceived their child had to be down there somewhere—but felt light years away from the elegance of his real home.
‘It’s incredibly beautiful. You must have worked very hard to earn all this in under a decade.’
He joined her on the deck, resting his elbows on the rail beside her hip and making her heartbeat spike.
‘So you’ve been checking up on me?’
She studied the sun-bleached hair on his muscular forearms—lost for words again.
She’d expected to be a little intimidated by his wealth—especially after the first class travel over. She hadn’t expected to feel completely overwhelmed. Not just by the staggering beauty of his home, but by him too. And the staggering effect he still had on her.
‘The Internet is a glorious thing,’ she murmured.
Unfortunately all the articles and news clippings about the meteoric rise of his business had contained virtually no information about his personal life. Or his past—bar a few photos of him escorting model-perfect women to island events. And once she’d discovered those, her enthusiasm for playing Nancy Drew had waned considerably.
‘The journalist from Investment magazine said you were the Rags-to-Riches King of the Islands,’ she said. ‘She seemed very impressed with your business model.’ And not just his business model, Ella had decided, from all the detailed prose about his muscular physique and sparklingly intelligent gaze.
The grin as he glanced her way was quick and boyish. ‘Yeah, I remember her. As I recall she hit on me.’
‘I’m not sure I needed to know that,’ she blurted, before getting control of the sting of jealousy.
He straightened away from the rail. ‘Just so you know, I didn’t hit on her back.’ He skimmed a knuckle down her cheek. ‘I like to be the one doing the chasing.’ He tucked his finger under her chin. ‘Except when it comes to pretty little English cougars who go trawling in beach bars.’