by Heidi Rice
She stared at him, her heart bursting with happiness and giddy relief. Maybe it wasn’t a declaration of undying and everlasting love. But she’d had one of those before and it had been a lie. Coop’s declaration meant so much more.
‘I think maybe we both need to stop being cowards,’ she said. ‘I should have had the guts to tell you straight away that my feelings were changing, that I wanted more, instead of panicking about how you would react.’
His hands framed her face, to pull her gaze back to his, and the approval she saw there was as intoxicating as the heat. ‘You were just scared. Believe me, I get that. Just so long as you’re not scared any more?’
She bobbed her head in answer to his question, far too emotional to speak.
‘Cool.’ He wrapped his arms round her waist, the solid feel of him making heat eddy up from her core to add to the joy.
She threaded her hands through the short hair above his ears, tugged his head down to hers and poured out everything she felt for him in a kiss full of happiness and desire and the rush of emotion that no longer had to be denied.
When they finally came up for air, he cradled her cheeks. ‘So will you cancel your flight? I know you’ve got to go home soon, but when you do I’d like to come too, until we figure out how we’re going to work this out. I’m not good at making promises. But I know I want to be with you, not just because of the baby, but because...’ He ducked his head, swore softly under his breath, the flags of embarrassed colour on his cheeks sweet and endearing and impossibly sexy. ‘Hell, I’m pretty damn sure I’m falling for you, too.’
She laughed, the sound rich and throaty and full of hope as she clung onto his neck. ‘All right, but only on one condition.’
The quick grin on his lips sparkled with a heady combination of tenderness and wickedness. ‘Seriously, you’ve got another condition? That’s pushing it.’
‘I’ll stay on the condition that I get to give you that just-screwed look I adore.’
He laughed. ‘Yup, definitely pushing it.’
He was still chuckling when he dumped her on the bed a few minutes later and got to work giving her what she wanted.
EPILOGUE
‘That water is so warm, it’s incredible,’ Ruby said as she reached for one of the beach towels and patted herself dry.
Ella shielded her eyes against the sun to smile at her friend from her spot on the lounger. ‘I know, but we should probably call the guys in soon, or we’re going to have some very cranky kids on our hands later.’
Ruby turned towards the sea, her smile crafty. ‘Yes, but they are going to sleep like the dead, once their fathers have put them to bed.’
Ella laughed, her gaze following Ruby’s out to the shallow surf, where Cooper and Ruby’s husband Callum were busy playing some kind of splashing war with their children. Cal ran forward, with his four-year-old Arturo clamped to his back like a limpet, while his daughter Ally shouted instructions and charged by his side. Her older brother Max seemed to be in cahoots with Cooper, who had their two-year-old son Jem slung on his hip, as he and Max launched a new offensive against the Westmore invaders. Jem’s delighted chuckles were matched by the manic pumping of his little legs as his Daddy scooped up a tidal wave of water with his free arm and drenched Ally, Cal and Arturo in one fell swoop.
Ella grinned at the comical scene as Max began to do a victory dance.
She loved having Ruby and Cal and their family visiting them in Bermuda for the summer—especially now that she and Cooper had made the decision to move here permanently and sell the flat Coop had bought in Camden just before Jem’s birth. It had been a major wrench finally agreeing to let that part of her life go, not least because she knew she would miss her best friend terribly, but as Jem got older they’d decided that jetting backwards and forwards between their two home bases was too confusing for him—and getting him over the jet lag every few months nothing short of a nightmare.
‘Do the daddies know they’re on bedtime duty?’ Ella asked as the splashing war went into a new phase, Ally, Cal and Arturo apparently refusing to concede defeat. She suspected both men were going to be even more exhausted than the kids come bedtime if the war carried on much longer.
Ruby settled on the sun lounger next to her and sent her a wicked grin. ‘They won’t have a choice when I tell them you and I still have lots of important business to conduct concerning the new Touch of Frosting opening in Hamilton.’
‘But I thought we got everything sorted yesterday?’ Ella said, remembering the fabulous brainstorming session they’d had discussing recipes and displays for the opening of her new bakery in two weeks’ time, which Ruby and her family were staying to attend.
‘Yes, but they don’t know that, do they?’
Ella laughed. ‘Ruby, you’re nasty.’
‘I try,’ Ruby replied, smiling back. Then she reached over to take Ella’s hand, her smile becoming hopeful. ‘So, Ella, you’ve been so upbeat, I’m assuming you got good news from the specialist last week?’
Ella gripped her friend’s fingers, and let the moment of melancholy pass before replying. Ruby knew she and Coop had been trying for another child for over a year, so of course she would ask. ‘Actually, it wasn’t the news we wanted.’
Ruby sat upright, her smile disappearing. ‘Ella, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up, I just assumed...’
‘No, that’s okay.’ She tugged Ruby’s hand to reassure her. ‘Really, it is. We knew it was a long shot.’ She allowed her gaze to drift over to her two precious guys, still playing like loons together in the surf with the Westmores, and the smile that was never far away returned. ‘It would be incredibly selfish of me to expect another miracle in my life.’ She paused, the smile getting bigger. ‘After the two I already have.’
Because she considered Coop to be as much of a miracle as their baby. He’d rescued her, she thought, in so many ways, and she’d rescued him. They had both found something wonderful together, not just in Jem but with each other, something made even more wonderful by the fact that they hadn’t even realised it had been missing from their lives until they’d found it.
‘Even so,’ Ruby said, ‘it seems such a shame it should be so hard for you to have more children when you make such incredible parents.’
‘I know,’ she said, not caring if the statement sounded a little smug. ‘Which is why we’re thinking of becoming foster parents.’
‘You are?’ Ruby’s smile returned. ‘That sounds like a great idea.’
‘We think so. It’s early days yet, but we’re both excited about it. Cooper runs free snorkelling classes at the marina for kids with...’ she paused ‘...challenging home situations.’ Something he knew far too much about himself. ‘Anyway, one of the social workers who escorts the kids suggested it to him—because she’s seen how well he handles them. So we’ve started the ball rolling. There’s a lot of paperwork and we have to do a...’
The sound of a toddler’s crying reached them, interrupting Ella’s enthusiastic reply. She sat up, seeing her husband strolling towards her across the sand, with Jem clinging to his neck and rubbing his eyes—his little head drenched in seawater.
‘Oh, dear, what happened?’ she said as they approached, trying not to smile, Jem looked so forlorn.
‘We had to retire from the field,’ Coop announced, casting a stern eye at Ruby. ‘Thanks to a sneaky stealth attack from Super-Splash-Girl.’
‘I should have warned you.’ Ruby smiled, handing Coop a towel to wipe Jem’s face. ‘Ally takes no prisoners, and she always plays to win. I’m afraid
it’s the curse of having two brothers.’
‘Want ice cream, Daddy,’ Jem wailed as if he’d just undergone an extreme form of water torture.
‘OK, buddy.’ Coop handed Ruby back the towel. ‘I guess you earned one.’ He rubbed his son’s back as the small head drooped onto his shoulder. ‘As well as a lecture on the wiles of women.’
Ruby chuckled. ‘Good luck with that.’
‘Do you want me to take him?’ Ella asked, reaching for the exhausted child.
‘Nah, he’s good. I’ll see if I can sneak a scoop of strawberry past Inez, then I’ll put him down for his nap.’ Holding his son securely against his chest, he leant down to press a kiss to her lips, whispering as he drew back, ‘Then maybe we can have our afternoon nap?’
The heat sizzled happily down to her core as she caressed her son’s damp blond curls and grinned up at her extremely hot husband. ‘Possibly, as long as I don’t have to listen to a lecture on the wiles of women.’
‘No problem.’ He winked. ‘I’ve got a whole other lecture planned for you, sweetheart.’
Saying goodbye to Ruby, he headed towards the beach steps up to the house.
Ella studied his broad tanned back, the muscular, capable shoulder where her drowsy son’s head was securely cradled, and then let her gaze drift down to the wet board shorts clinging to tight buns.
She let out a contented sigh as her happiness combined with the hum of heat. While her husband would still rather have his teeth pulled than talk about his feelings—when it came to lectures in bed, she’d never been able to fault his energy, enthusiasm... Or his expertise.
* * * * *
If you want to read Ruby and Cal’s story, look for CUPCAKES AND KILLER HEELS
by Heidi Rice available on Harlequin.com on eBook.
Keep reading for an excerpt from SEX, LIES & HER IMPOSSIBLE BOSS by Jennifer Rae.
ONE
The first time her phone buzzed, Faith Harris was too busy taking photos of a burlesque dancer’s pasties to notice. They were new. Bright red and covered in thousands of dollars’ worth of diamonds. Betty Boom-Boom was very proud of them and swung them from side to side for effect as Faith pointed the camera.
‘Hang on, Bets, I just have to get you in focus—slow down.’ Betty stopped swinging as Faith’s phone beeped again. This time Faith plucked it from her back pocket and impatiently read the message on the screen.
Answer your damn phone. CA
Faith winced. He’d been calling all morning. She knew what it was about. Which was why she hadn’t answered any of his calls. Or his emails. But now he was angry and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to ignore him any longer.
‘Sorry, Bets. I’ve got to sort something out.’ Faith let out a breath as she slung the camera around her neck and stared down at her phone.
Cash Anderson.
The wheatgerm in her smoothie. The run in her stocking. The one bar on her phone.
The man who annoyed her, stressed her out and did her head in more than anyone else.
Cash-freaking-Anderson.
Who was calling her to give her the boot. The man had only been in the job for four weeks but so far he’d upset programming, annoyed advertising and turned the entire editing department into fruitcakes with his constant demands and changes. And now he had his sights set on her and her TV show, Sexy Sydney. A show she’d been building for two years. A show that had gained her a reputation for honest, thought-provoking journalism. A show that he now wanted to can.
Faith breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth. Calm. She needed to be calm. She remembered her yoga. Be a bee. She stuck her fingers in her ears, closed her eyes and hummed—just like Sri Sri Ravi had taught her.
‘Mmm...’ she hummed.
She was going to lose her job. She had no savings so she’d have to move out of her flat and then where would she go? She’d left most of her friends behind in England when she’d moved here to follow her dreams. She’d only managed to make a few friends here—her job had taken all her time these past two years.
‘Mmm...’
She’d have to move home. With her mad mother and her disappointed father and her layabout brothers who teased her incessantly about her job.
‘Mmm...’
Then she’d start drinking heavily. And take up smoking and adopt a load of stray cats. And she was allergic to cats so she’d probably end up wheezing and not being able to breathe from all the cigarettes and cats and she’d cark it and they wouldn’t find her until her parents noticed a strange smell coming from her room.
‘Mmm—bloody—mmm...!’
Then she’d be dead and Cash-freaking-Anderson would finally be happy.
She unplugged her fingers. Not helping. Sri Sri and his yoga were useless. As was avoiding this phone call. She dialled Cash’s number and waited, her gut clenched, her neck tense.
‘About bloody time. Where have you been? Where are you now?’ his gruff voice boomed through the phone.
‘I’m interviewing Betty Boom-Boom. I told you I’d be here all day.’
‘Forget Betty Boom-Boom. I need you here.’ Faith felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. His tone was abrupt and demanding. She was reminded of the principal of her boarding school. Unrelenting. Harsh. A man who was incapable of understanding, even when a young girl was miles from home—scared, lonely and unable to fit in. That principal had told her to ‘toughen up’. And she had—which was why she wasn’t going to let this man push her around.
‘I really can’t. I have to get these photos—the crew want to come and shoot tomorrow and I need to do the sheets up.’
‘Faith. I’ll expect you back here in twenty minutes.’ He hung up. Twenty minutes. Yet she was forty-five minutes away. She closed her eyes, sucked in a deep breath and wondered, not for the first time, what the hell she’d got herself into. Only a few short years ago her dreams had seemed so clear. International travel and journalistic awards. They were the only two dreams she’d held her whole life. Ever since she was seven and found herself alone and unable to make friends in a new school full of girls with strange accents who seemed to consider her the resident freak. Back in those days her thick northern country accent, wild hair and outrageous comments made her the butt of many jokes. She’d learned to be small, to disappear and she’d gone to a lot of trouble to develop the thick, tough layer that now surrounded her. A layer she’d need to reinforce to deal with the abrupt, plain-speaking man who was determined to ruin all her plans. The Sexy Sydney show was her baby. She’d dreamt it up when she got her first station job back in Newcastle but no TV station in England would run it. Everyone called her bonkers; they’d snickered behind her back. But that was two years ago and everything had changed since then. Her dreams had come true. Escape. Freedom. Recognition. Finally. After being made fun of for so long, she was finally getting on her feet and now Cash Anderson was trying to take it all away.
‘I’ve gotta go, Bets.’
‘It’s not that gorgeous boss of yours again, is it?’
Faith groaned. There was no denying the man was handsome. You could cut a piece of cheesecake with his cheekbones. But looks meant nothing to her. This man was a hard-headed businessman who wanted to shut down everything that was good about the station and inflict his stupid ‘cost-cutting’ ideas on them all.
‘It’s the good-looking ones you have to watch, Bets. I’m pretty sure he’s trying to shut my show down.’
‘The bastard!’ Faith preened at Betty’s indignation on her behalf.
‘Right? It’s a good segment. Australia needs to know about this stuff.’
‘Of course they do. We’re artists, not strippers, and what we do is a valuable part of our culture.’
&nbs
p; ‘Yes! Exactly. But he doesn’t get that. Him and his prudish attitude. You know what he told me at the last editorial meeting?’
Betty held her eyes in satisfying fascination. ‘He said that all a woman needs in the bedroom is a smile. A smile! As if that’s all it takes. That man has no idea how much waxing and plucking and shaping and moisturising goes into making that “smile” look hot. No idea.’
‘Men,’ announced Betty with a sniff.
‘Men,’ agreed Faith.
If only this man didn’t hold her fate in his hands. Then she’d find ignoring him so much easier. But he could no longer be ignored. She’d been summoned to the Devil’s den and if she wasn’t there in twenty minutes, he’d have his staff out to poke her with it.
* * *
The blood pumped furiously in Faith’s ears. It rushed like a waterfall through her veins. Cash was flashing one of those unfair electric white smiles at her. One of those smiles some men possessed that lit up their face and crinkled their eyes, making them seem younger and slightly sexy, which tricked your stupid heart into thinking they could be trusted. Which he couldn’t. Especially not with the big boss of Apex TV in the room.
‘Faith’s segment is popular, I know. But there are some other things I’d like to try,’ purred Cash—his eyes still on her.
She met his gaze and jutted out her chin. She couldn’t trust him one bit.
‘Such as?’ Gordon Grant was an over-tanned man in his sixties. His American accent was smooth and polished and he was so damn sparkly, he had a way of making everyone in the room feel dull and dowdy in comparison.
‘Such as sport. I want to introduce a new show based on Australian sporting legends.’
Faith groaned then looked up quickly as she realised everyone had heard her.
‘You don’t agree, Miss Harris?’ Gordon smiled, his teeth blinding her for a second. His eyes travelled over her face and down to her neck and landed right where the button on her shirt wouldn’t stay done up. She lifted a hand to it and sat up.