One Night, So Pregnant! by Heidi Rice Page B

wrapped around her elbow. Then cursed herself as Nate smiled down at her.
    ‘Let’s go in the kitchen entrance. Mano said he’d leave the door open for us.’
    ‘Who’s Mano?’ she asked, trying not to gawp as heat buzzed where his thumb stroked the inside of her elbow. If he could be cool and collected about the attraction between them, then so could she.
    He led her across the flagstone porch and then around the back of the building, to a charming entrance framed by bougainvillea vines.
    ‘Mano used to be my grandfather’s head gardener.’ He pushed open the door, to reveal a bright airy kitchen with an array of shiny new appliances. A drop-leaf table stood by the large picture window that afforded a spectacular view across the cliffs towards the ocean.
    ‘Used to be?’
    ‘He’s the property’s caretaker now.’ Taking a heavy crystal beaker out of a glass-fronted cabinet, he turned on the tap and let the water run for a moment, before filling it.
    ‘He lives on the property?’ she asked, careful to make sure her fingers didn’t touch his as she took the chilled glass of water.
    ‘Not on the property, no.’ Nate leant against the kitchen counter, crossed his arms over his chest and watched her. ‘We’re alone.’
    Tess took a hasty gulp of the icy water, but it didn’t do a thing to stop the burning in her chest. ‘Until your friend gets here.’
    ‘He’ll be a good half-hour.’
    Heat surged, his implication clear—they’d managed to do quite a bit in a lot less time than thirty minutes before now.
    She placed the glass on the table, pleased when she managed not to spill a drop. But as she faced him she decided there was no point in being coy. Not with this man.
    All he had to do was look at her and her breasts grew heavy and even more sensitive. Her eyes dipped to the bunch of muscle displayed by black cotton. The memory of his naked chest, lightly dusted with hair, flashed like fire in her mind.
    ‘Don’t you think it’s a little unwise for us to do this again?’ she said.
    He unhooked his arms, braced his hands on the countertop. ‘Maybe. But that doesn’t solve our problem.’
    ‘What problem?’ she asked, her heartbeat skittering into her throat. Okay, maybe coy wasn’t completely out of the question.
    ‘I want you. A lot. And after your guppy impersonation by the pool, I know the feeling’s mutual.’
    ‘Busted,’ she murmured. Why even attempt to deny it? ‘But sex will make a difficult situation impossible,’ she said breathlessly, knowing she was arguing with herself as much as him.
    ‘Possibly.’ He stepped towards her, and she inhaled the tantalising scent of him—pine soap and chlorine. ‘Or it could simplify it.’
    She raised her arms, intending to ward him off, but then he settled his hands on her hips, dragged her against him. And she could feel his need, the thick ridge of his arousal straining against worn denim more persuasive than any words.
    She braced her forearms against his chest. ‘How?’ she asked, trying to recall all the reasons why this was a really bad idea.
    ‘We need to get to know each other,’ he murmured, dipping his head, his tongue touching her ear lobe. ‘And sex will make that process faster and more fun.’
    Oh, please. Seriously?
    Her breath shuddered out. His logic was ridiculous, and she knew it, but she still couldn’t stop herself from clarifying. ‘Is this a friends-with-benefits scenario? Because they never work.’
    ‘Who says?’ he demanded, then bent to suck the throbbing pulse in her neck. Even though she knew she was right and he was wrong, the delicious wave of heat shimmering through her nerve endings seemed to contradict her.
    ‘I do,’ she said weakly, her arms draping over broad shoulders as she angled her head back to give him more access. ‘Or at least I think I do.’
    Was friends with benefits really guaranteed to be a complete disaster? She’d spent her teens having needy, furtive and mostly awful sex