It Started With A Kiss: The Secret Love-Child / Facing Up to Fatherhood / Not a Marrying Man. Miranda Lee
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‘Different, though.’
Rafe’s stomach flipped over. ‘Different?’ he asked, trying not to panic. ‘In what way, different?’
She shrugged. ‘Gentler. Sweeter. Different.’
Rafe smiled his relief. ‘Well, I didn’t need to rush it. You weren’t making any of your usual control-losing demands.’
Isabel was taken aback. ‘What do you mean, control-losing demands?’
‘Honey, you have a very impatient nature when it comes to sex. It’s always faster, Rafe. Harder. Deeper. Again. More. No more. Stop. Don’t stop. The list is endless.’
‘That’s not true!’ she denied hotly.
‘Perhaps a slight exaggeration on my part. But it was still a rather nice change to know I could take my time and do exactly what I wanted to do with your total cooperation. I really enjoyed it.’
And how! Rafe thought.
Any apprehension over his bold decision not to use any protection had disappeared once he’d put his plans into action. Knowing that a child could possibly result from his lovemaking had added an emotional dimension Rafe hadn’t anticipated. When he’d felt his seed spilling into her he’d thought his heart would burst with elation. And when she’d gone to sleep in his arms afterwards he’d been consumed by feelings so powerful and deep that they’d revolutionised his ideas on what loving a person was all about.
Seeing Liz last night was the best thing that could have happened to him. What a fool he’d been, choosing a solitary life for fear of being hurt again. Fair enough to withdraw into his cave for a while. But it had been years, for pity’s sake. Years of keeping women at a distance, except sexually, and telling himself—and everyone else—that he didn’t want marriage and a family, when the truth was he’d become too much of a coward to risk his male ego a second time. He’d been afraid of being dumped again, afraid of rejection.
Not any more. He was going to take a leaf out of Isabel’s book and go after what he wanted. Which was her as his wife as well as the mother of his child. Or children. Heck, he wasn’t going to stop at just one. He’d hated being an only child.
But he couldn’t tell her all that yet. He couldn’t even tell her how much he loved her. She wasn’t ready for such an announcement. But she would be, in time. And when Mother Nature eventually took her course.
It was to be hoped that last night had done the trick. But if it hadn’t, he’d already doctored a few more condoms for today. If at first you don’t succeed, Rafe, then try, try again.
Trying again had never looked so pleasurable. Pity she had a hangover. Still, that would pass.
‘God, I can’t stand people looking perky when I’m dying,’ Isabel grumbled.
‘What you need is a refreshing swim,’ Rafe suggested.
She groaned. ‘My head is already swimming, thank you very much. Do you think I could con you into getting me a cup of coffee?’
He jumped up off the foot of the bed. ‘One steaming mug of sweet black coffee coming up!’
Isabel groaned again. Not only perky, but energetic. He even started whistling.
Still, she had to concede Rafe wasn’t anything like she’d first thought. Oh, she didn’t doubt he was a bit of a ladies’ man. And marriage and children were not part of his life plan. But he wasn’t at all arrogant, or selfish. He was actually quite considerate, and highly sensitive. That Liz female had really hurt him, stupid greedy amoral woman that she was.
His dad’s death had scarred him as well. Isabel had been moved last night when Rafe had told her how his father had been a country rep for a wine company, travelling all over New South Wales, selling his products into hotels and clubs and restaurants. Rafe had been just eight when his dad’s car had hit a kangaroo at night and careered off the road into a tree, killing him instantly. Unfortunately, his father hadn’t been a great success as a salesman—a bit of a dreamer, though in the nicest possible way—and money had been tight for his widow and son after his demise.
But he’d been a great success as a dad. Clearly, Rafe had adored him. His voice had choked up when he’d told Isabel that the only things his father had left him in a material sense were a camera and a pair of phantom’s-head cuff-links. Father and son had had a real thing for the Phantom, his Dad always bringing Rafe home a Phantom Comic after he’d been away. They would always read it together that night. Isabel had been moved to hear that, when one of the prized cuff-links had been lost during a house move Rafe had had the other made into an earring and never took it off for fear of losing it as well. How he must have loved that man!
It was a pity he shied away from being a father himself. With his dad’s example to go by, he’d probably be a very good one.
She sighed. That was the incorrigible romantic in her talking again. Next thing she’d have him returning with her coffee and saying he’d changed his mind about what he wanted in life, after which he’d declare his undying love and beg her to marry him.
Fat chance!
‘Here’s your coffee, lover. Now, stop all that sighing and drink up. Oh, for pity’s sake, you haven’t even taken your headache tablets yet. Or drunk the water. How do you expect to feel better unless you rehydrate yourself? No, no coffee for you till you’ve done the right thing. And there’ll be no more drinking to excess in future. It’s no good for you.’
Isabel glared at him. ‘And there I was, thinking you weren’t the bullying bossy pain in the neck I’d first met. But I was deluding myself. The only reason you want me to feel better is so that you can have more of what you got last night.’
He grinned the cheekiest sexiest grin. ‘You could be right there.’
Isabel glowered at him as she popped two tablets into her mouth and swallowed the water.
‘A shower or the sea?’ he said, eyeing her rather salaciously where the sheet had slipped down to her waist.
Isabel didn’t have to look down to know what he was seeing. Maybe she wasn’t too perky this morning, but her nipples still were.
And she was so wet down there it wasn’t funny.
‘I think a spa bath is in order,’ she said. ‘Alone,’ she added firmly.
‘I could scrub your back,’ Rafe offered.
‘No.’
‘Spoilsport.’
‘And then, after breakfast, I’d like to do something unenergetic. I noticed there was a pack of cards in the cupboard over there.’
‘Cards,’ he repeated drily. He hated playing cards. His mother was a fanatic at euchre and cribbage, and used to rope him in when she couldn’t find another partner. She always won so there hadn’t been much fun in it for him.
‘There’s plenty of other games in there as well, if you’d prefer,’ she went on, no doubt hearing his reluctance.
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