Stepping out onto the slate, Sophie trailed fingertips along the border of bright green leaves before she lowered herself onto the calico-padded wrought-iron seat he’d retracted.
After dragging in his own chair, Cooper got down to business. ‘When I received your message from the hotel asking me to call you, frankly, I was surprised.’
She avoided his gaze. ‘I hadn’t planned on calling.’
He waited. Cocked his head. ‘Then why did you?’
He hadn’t changed his agenda; he was looking for long-term. Sophie might have been too sweet to leave hanging on the vine, but he had a goal, and sampling her fruit again did not feature. She’d known that as much as he had.
Uncomfortable, she shifted in her chair. ‘It’s a little difficult to explain.’
Was she waiting for him to make the first move? Suggest they should pick up where they’d left off? It wouldn’t happen. He wasn’t buying. No matter how much her curls taunted him, or how much those plump lips he’d kissed till dawn tempted him.
In fact, the sooner this was out, the sooner she would leave—and the sooner they could both get on with their lives.
Of necessity, he injected a grave note into his voice. ‘I thought we agreed that night that we have different agendas.’
Hands clasped in her lap, still avoiding his eyes, she nodded deeply. ‘Yes. Yes, we did.’
Cooper studied her more closely. Was this evasive, almost shy woman the same fireball who had detonated waves of heat through his blood? She still breathed flames over his skin merely by sitting near, clasping and unclasping the delicate hands that had travelled and aroused every inch of him. She was arousing him even now without touching him.
Brow low, knuckles knocking on the armrest, Cooper tossed an aggravated glance around. This setting was too personal. Too convenient. A more public environment would work best. No car blocked his drive so he assumed she’d taken a cab. They should have a civil discussion somewhere neutral, settle up and square off before he dropped her home. Case closed.
He tipped forward. ‘This is a little awkward. I think we should go somewhere else for—’ He’d almost said for coffee. But there was no forgetting what had happened last time he’d suggested that.
Finally finding his gaze, she filled in the blank. ‘Go somewhere for lunch? I am a little hungry. I missed breakfast this morning.’
His thoughts jumped to Paige and her rabbit food, then his own stomach growled.
Her smile spread. ‘Sounds like you did, too.’
His mind hurtled back to ‘the morning after’, when she’d taken great pleasure helping him devour chocolate syrup pancakes. They’d been naked, camped out on the rumpled sheets. He hadn’t meant to drip the chocolate sauce on her thigh, though he sure as hell had enjoyed licking it off.
Slanting forward too, she clenched her white-knuckled hands atop the round table. ‘But, Cooper, I really need to speak with you first. I’m not sure I can wait a minute more.’
He battled to keep the vision of her unclothed curves from his head. Not easy. But do-able. He was in control.
She sucked down a breath, but shot it back out on a nervous laugh. ‘This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to say.’
Her haunted expression … the note of concern in her voice …
The walls of Cooper’s stomach gripped and he slowly frowned.
Was something more at work here than their night together? Was this somehow about Paige after all, and Sophie was reluctant to tell him? Was Paige failing a subject? She’d been struggling with maths, but he’d helped her out. She’d got a B last term.
Paige spoke of Ms Gruebella as a confidante.
Oh, hell.
He forced his mouth to work. ‘Is Paige in trouble?’
Another statistic? A teenage pregnancy?
Sophie chewed her full bottom lip, looking at him from beneath her thick black lashes. ‘Paige isn’t in trouble, Cooper. We are.’
Cooper hadn’t finished expelling a huge sigh of relief before he registered the final part of her answer. A cog turned and he frowned. ‘What did you say?’
Sophie wrung her hands on the tabletop. ‘You know how we didn’t leave the bedroom very much that night … or the next morning?’
Except to go to the couch and the spa bath. There had been that brief time in the pantry, too … He didn’t quite recall how that had happened. Hell, they’d been all over the shop.
She went on. ‘They say condoms are between eighty-five and ninety-seven per cent effective.’
And they’d used a few.
He formed the words to describe the bizarre notion in his mind. ‘We’re pregnant?’
She held up some fingers and a thumb to count. ‘Due in seven months.’
He tried to take it in. His heart was throbbing in his throat. Echoing in his ears. Impossible to believe. This wasn’t in his plan.
She groaned. ‘I know what you’re thinking. You don’t want this complication.’
Complication?
Complication!
She wriggled straighter, truly meeting his eyes for the first time. ‘But I’ve worked it all out. I would never have kept the news from you, but I won’t bother you unnecessarily. You can see the baby whenever you want.’
The other side of the equation popped into mind and he tamped down whirling, exploding disbelief enough to ask, ‘Are you fine with being a mother?’ Last time they’d spoken she’d hadn’t seemed sure.
‘It was a shock at first.’ A small smile played at the corners of her mouth. ‘But, yes, I want this baby very much.’
Well, that had to be good news.
A line grew between her brows. ‘I know you’ll find someone, and soon, who’ll be accepting about this. It’s not the nineteenth century, where we’d keep this kind of situation locked up in a back closet. I’ll get on with my life, you get on with yours, and I’ll make sure the baby and I don’t interfere with your plans.’
He ran a hand through his hair.
Get on with his life? Find someone? As in a wife?
His mind slid left and right like a vehicle skidding on black ice. He needed to get it all straight in his head.
This woman was having his baby. In seven months he would be a father. His child needed its father—not part-time but one hundred per cent. Needed a fully committed mother and father, both. If he knew nothing else, from raising Paige alone he knew that.
The blood drained from his head as he gazed at Sophie—beautiful, sexy, out-for-an-argument, life-is-about-luck Sophie.
His vision blurred and sweat broke out on his brow, down his back.
What the hell could he do? He couldn’t marry her. He couldn’t not marry her either.
Her voice reached him through the haze. ‘It’s a lot to take in, I know. But I’ve looked into it. I’ll take maternity leave. And wonderful childminding options are available for when I go back to work, so it’ll just be a matter of getting settled into a routine.’
He eased out a breath as the news started to sink in. Regaining some balance and