One-Amazing-Night Baby!: A Wild Night & A Marriage Ultimatum / Pregnant by the Playboy Tycoon / Pleasure, Pregnancy and a Proposition. Heidi Rice
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a seductive rhythm against hers, she assessed his curious expression and threw out the challenge. ‘Is it so strange for a woman to admit she might not see herself tying any knots?’
He swayed her around. ‘Frankly, yes. It’s men, not women, who usually run from any altar.’
‘Is that based on your own predilections?’
Was he the playboy type? Hands down, he had all the right equipment.
His shadowed jaw shifted. ‘Actually, I have nuptials planned for the near future—complete with the big cake and big bill.’
Okay, now she was confused. ‘You’re unattached, but getting married soon?’
‘I have a list of requirements. I simply need to find the woman who fits.’
She coughed out a laugh. ‘A list? Are you checking it twice? I mean, you’re kidding, right?’
His serious look said not. ‘Every day I deal with unhappy couples who married without giving enough thought to long-term compatibility. I devised the list for a clueless client a couple of years back, to help him guard against future mistakes.’
Talk about setting boundaries! She almost pitied his future bride. What kind of person thought it necessary to wield such dispassionate control over something like falling in love? ‘What are you? A therapist?’
‘Divorce attorney.’
‘A divorce attorney with a list?’ His expression would have been condescending if it hadn’t been so charming. She decided to serve it up straight. ‘I don’t think I’ve heard anything less romantic.’
‘Try angry people fighting over assets, using children as pawns. Impulsive love, careless marriages—most often they turn to frustration, regret, and sometimes even hate.’
She thought it through and made up her mind. She might feel particularly jaded after the Ted incident, and admittedly she was having real trouble believing in rainbows, however … ‘Sorry, but if I had to choose I’d take falling head over heels in love over checklists any day.’
His square jaw hardened and his gaze left hers to drift over the heads in the room. ‘In that case, you’re right. You shouldn’t tie any knots.’
She stiffened.
Not with you, anyway.
After doubling her defences against the steam radiating from his body through to hers, she dished out another observation. ‘You’d have to find someone pretty special to go along with a checklist.’
His untroubled gaze swung back to lick her lips. ‘Ah, but finding someone special is what it’s all about.’
As she tried to push their difference of opinion from her mind his hips seemed to press closer, and the spark in her belly leapt higher. Sophie dropped her chin as her eyes drifted closed against the threat of unbidden pleasure and mounting frustration.
Should she even try to respect this man’s clinical viewpoint? Normally manners and ‘what was expected’ would win out, but when that bouquet had fallen from her lap tonight something had changed. She’d turned a corner, grown taller, broken free, and now, no matter what, she couldn’t go back to being a mouse. She simply couldn’t do what decorum required and let this rest.
When her gaze skewered his again, he didn’t appear the least surprised.
‘So, if you fell madly in love,’ she said, ‘but she got, say, three strikes on your list, she’d be out of the door?’
‘A parting of the ways would be best. The relationship simply wouldn’t survive long-term.’
She and Ted had liked many of the same things. Her parents had started out sharing interests. Now they barely spoke. On the other hand, her nan and grandpa had zilch in common, yet they still looked at each other all gooey and held hands walking down the street.
Common interests. No common interests. This man’s logic was obviously flawed, and she was going to tell him.
She gave him a level look. ‘I think finding the right one is more about luck than arrangement.’
Crisp black fabric brushed beneath her fingers as he rolled back a shoulder. ‘Your prerogative.’
She pressed her lips together. No, she wouldn’t ask. She’d bite off her tongue before giving him the satisfaction.
She set her teeth, but the question escaped anyway. ‘What’s at the top of your list?’
He pinned her with a mock stern glare. ‘Someone who won’t argue.’
That settled it. GQ material or not, clearly he rubbed her the wrong way. Why prolong the aggravation? She’d make it easy for them both.
After disengaging herself, she stepped back, straining to keep her voice even. ‘Guess you asked the wrong girl to dance.’
His head cocked. ‘Why? Because we have opposite ideas on how a couple should meet, court, then celebrate their union—in fact, pretty much everything there is to securing a lifelong companion?’
Ridiculous. She’d known him barely ten minutes, yet her silly heart squeezed as she nodded.
A smile curved a corner of his mouth as he scratched his temple. ‘Trouble is, I enjoyed our dance.’ When he stepped into the space separating them, her body responded with a knee-quaking wave of warmth. ‘But it was just a dance. No budding romance. No broken hearts. No harm done.’
Sophie finally released the air burning in her lungs. Oh, hell. She hated to admit it, but he was right. She’d been on a razor-sharp edge all night, and while the idea of his list irked, she had no need to throw down her glove. That was his business, not hers. The new assertive Sophie needed time to adjust.
His expression softened as he held out a hand. ‘Truce?’
She succumbed to a small smile. ‘Sure. Why not?’
She imagined his hand held hers a moment longer than was necessary before his chest inflated and he nodded towards the doors behind her.
‘I need some fresh air. Care to join me on the balcony?’ His mouth twitched. ‘On a purely platonic basis, of course.’
Sophie hesitated, then saw the humour shining in his eyes.
Should she join him on the balcony? She would never be affected by his list; he couldn’t impose any boundaries on her. But, irrespective of his quirks, this man’s company was the most stimulating she’d ever had. If he had nothing better to do, heaven knew neither did she. And after the last few heated moments some fresh air would be nice. A rerun of The Wedding Date could wait.
They mounted three stairs and, after passing through a set of wall-to-wall French doors, left the party noise and dressed tables behind. Crossing the patio, adorned with trellises of perfumed lemon and maroon hibiscus, they moved towards a view that included the twinkling rainbow of lights decorating Sydney’s coat-hanger bridge. He leant back against the sculptured stone railing, crossed his arms and met her gaze.
A steady pulse beat in his jaw while a lock of hair bounced on the salty autumn breeze drifting in off the glimmering harbour. Sophie’s heartbeat hitched. Even if he was insufferably superior, she had to concede James Bond had zip on this guy.
She looped her loose spiral of hair behind an ear. ‘When did you decide you wanted to get married?’
‘Tonight.’
She hiked a brow. ‘This from a guy who won’t act on impulse?’
His sexy grin said, Touché. ‘I’ve known Noah since school. We lost touch until recently. Seeing him get settled made me realise I’m not getting any younger. I want a wife. A son. It’s time.’ He turned to face the view and rest his forearms on the railing. ‘And you? I’m sure at some stage you want children.’
Hands cushioning