Bedded for His Pleasure: Bedded by a Bad Boy / In the Gardener's Bed / The Return of the Rebel. Heidi Rice
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looked up, his brow creasing. ‘Yeah, thanks, I’m starving.’
Leaning over, Jessie began slicing the meat on his plate.
‘I feel like a first-grader.’His voice whispered close to her ear, making the soft skin of her nape tingle. But unlike before, when the giddy awareness had made her feel vulnerable and irritated, she enjoyed the warmth that seemed to spread up her neck.
‘I could take her in.’ She pushed his plate back to him. ‘She probably ought to go to bed now anyway.’
‘No need.’ He adjusted the little girl in his lap, forking up a mouthful of the newly-cut meat as Emmy’s head nestled against his broad shoulder. He chewed and swallowed. ‘It’s kind of nice to hold her when she’s not talking a mile a minute.’ He looked a little shocked at his own admission, making Jessie’s lips curve.
‘What’s so funny?’ The prickle of annoyance in his tone made Jessie’s smile widen.
‘You are. You’re cute.’
He frowned at that, putting down his fork. ‘Hey, that’s my line.’
‘Not any more, it’s not.’ Jessie nodded at Emmy. ‘She’s totally besotted with you, you know.’
‘She’s a good kid.’ He sounded confused, making Jessie wonder.
‘She’s also a very good judge of character.’
Monroe blinked at the statement. The soft words sounded almost like an endearment. He studied Jessie in the flickering light. He’d planned to come on to her tonight. An opportunity like this, with her as good as flirting with him, should have been just what he was looking for.
He wanted to kiss her in the worst way. But something was holding him back. And it wasn’t only the sleeping child in his lap.
He didn’t only want to feast on those sweet lips of hers, he realised with a jolt. He wanted to bask in the approval he saw in her eyes. He wanted her to care for him. That was the problem. He felt the stab of guilt at the thought. He’d intended to seduce her, not make her fall for him. That would never work.
‘She doesn’t know me.’ The words came out harsher than he’d intended. ‘And neither do you, Red.’
The abrupt statement might have put Jessie off, but as he said it she could see the panic in his eyes. He wasn’t angry. Not really. He was scared. But why?
‘Does it frighten you, Monroe, to have people care about you?’
She knew she’d struck a nerve when he stiffened. Annoyance swirled in his eyes. ‘What the hell does that—’ The angry words cut off when Emmy stirred.
He rocked her gently, until the child settled again. When he looked back at Jessie, she could see he’d been careful to settle himself as well.
The slow, easy smile that she knew so well spread across his face. But for the first time she realised it was nothing more than a diversionary tactic. A defence. The lazy grin his way of distancing himself.
‘Don’t get the wrong idea, Red.’ His tone was low and intimate, making the familiar shiver run up her spine. ‘I won’t mind a bit if you want to get up close and personal with me. In fact, I’m counting on it.’
He was teasing her again, but it didn’t make her bristle as it once had, because she could see the usual twinkle hadn’t reached his eyes. Enjoying her newfound power, Jessie raised a coquettish eyebrow and looked him straight in the eye.
‘That’s quite a challenge, Monroe. I’d be careful if I were you. I might take you up on it.’
She could see she’d surprised him when his eyes widened, but the surge of heat that followed made her breath catch. He was looking at her now as if he wanted to devour her. Suddenly the giddy fluttering in her belly, the heat in her cheeks from an hour before were back with a vengeance.
He might be cute, but she’d be a fool to think he wasn’t still dangerous.
‘Jess, you want to grab the rest of the plates while I put Emmy to bed?’ Linc’s voice came to Jessie through the blood pounding in her ears. She forced her eyes away from Monroe to see her brother-in-law walking round the pool towards them both. She let out an audible breath.
Saved, she thought, and in the nick of time.
Jessie sat at the vanity table in her room and slathered moisturiser on her face. As had become a habit over the last week, her gaze strayed out her bedroom window, across the dark expanse of the gardens to Monroe’s garage apartment. As always, his windows were a beacon of light in the night. She glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. Nearly midnight again. Did the man never sleep?
She closed the curtains, shrugged into the simple satin shift she wore to sleep in and turned the switch by the door. The air conditioner subsided to a quiet hum. She walked across the room and sank into the huge double bed. As she pulled the thin sheet over herself she couldn’t stop thinking about the apartment across the way and the man inside it.
He still made her nervous. After all, no matter what she did, she just couldn’t forget that kiss. But despite that, tonight, and maybe even before that, her opinion of him had changed. She knew now there was a lot more to him than his staggering good looks and his industrial-strength sex appeal.
Over the past week and a half Jessie had let go of her suspicion that he had arrived on Linc’s doorstep to sponge off his rich brother.
Monroe had spent every morning since he’d been there either tuning up the cars or working on the garden. He’d fixed the lawnmower and, after ten days of his tender loving care, the grass was at last green again and the flowerbeds were starting to perk up, too. And all this, even though Linc had told him again at supper that he was a guest and should act like one. Monroe had simply shrugged and said that he liked helping out.
He disappeared every afternoon, and apart from tonight had refused all of Ali’s invitations to come to supper. Jessie wondered what he was doing right now. Maybe he was in bed, too. The thought sent a shaft of heat straight to her core.
Get a hold of yourself. She was acting like a woman with a serious problem. But Ali was right, he was a hunk, and right at the moment he seemed to be focused on her. She began to think about the other things she knew about him, and then shot upright in bed.
He wasn’t in bed, now. He was painting. Of course, that was what he had to be doing.
If she hadn’t been distracted by that kiss and her newfound feelings for him she would have remembered their conversation in the diner sooner.
Throwing off the covers, Jessie paced to the room’s en suite bathroom and ran herself a glass of water. What did he paint? Whether or not he had any talent, he was certainly dedicated. He was at it every afternoon and most of the night.
Draining the glass, Jessie rinsed it out and walked back across the deep pile carpet to the bedroom window. She peeked out of the curtains. She felt silly, like an over-eager schoolgirl, fantasising about her first major crush and spying on him in the middle of the night. But she couldn’t help it. This intriguing new turn of events only made him all the more irresistible.
His lights were still on.
She was dying to see what he was doing. After all, art was her passion, too.
When she’d left college, she’d kidded herself for a whole year that she was destined to take the art world by storm.
After a series of rejections, though, from a string of different galleries, she’d had to admit that, although she was passionate about art, her talent—like her portfolio—had been woefully inadequate.
It wasn’t that she was dreadful; she just wasn’t ever going to be great. Being able to see her own inadequacies had been her curse, she’d thought this spring, when she’d finally given up her job as a layout designer in a tiny print shop in Soho.
She’d been miserable doing the mundane, boring