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‘Well, thanks a bunch.’ He sounded angry but she could see the pain in his eyes. ‘I’ve bared my damn soul and now you’re telling me you don’t love me.’
‘Now, now, don’t get all surly.’ It was cruel to tease him, but she couldn’t help it. Maybe she wanted him to suffer, just a little bit. ‘Even though it suits you.’
‘What, you think this is funny?’ Okay, so he was shooting past surly straight to furious.
‘No, what I’m saying is, I didn’t love you then, because I didn’t know you. You were some ridiculous white knight, to me. A romantic dream I could never have. Of course, that all came tumbling down when you told me you thought I’d cheated on you.’
He groaned. ‘Please, can we forget about that?’ He slid his hands round her waist, looked relieved when she didn’t pull away.
‘I’m sorry, Monroe, but that one’s going to get thrown at you every time we have a row. And I’m telling you now that every time it does I’m going to love you more.’
His eyes flared with hope. ‘What did you say?’
‘I said, I’ll love you even more, Monroe.’ She ran her hands up his back, felt the tension ease out of his shoulders. ‘Because I’ll know that you’re not a white knight, or some super cool dude who’s too damn gorgeous for me. I’ll know that you’re really surly and unsure of yourself and, like most men, don’t know a damn thing about how to express your feelings. You’ve got just as many hang-ups—actually you’ve got a lot more hang-ups than I have. And a chip on your shoulder the size of a Californian redwood.’
‘Hold on a minute.’
She grabbed hold of his hair and kissed him hard on the lips before he could say anything else.
‘But you know what?’ she said.
‘What?’ He looked really confused now.
Jessie felt the love inside her swell to impossible proportions.
‘You’re mine. With all your problems and daft ideas about yourself. We’re going to have this baby and it’s going to be loved and cherished by both of us and when it drives us nuts—and it will—we’ll know how to deal with it. Because we learnt the hard way, having to deal with each other.’
‘You think?’ The cocksure grin she knew so well spread across his face, making her blood heat. ‘So, let me get this straight,’ he said. ‘You’re saying you do love me, now?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘No, I don’t think so.’ He hugged her tight, lifted her off the ground. ‘Uh-huh won’t do it. You’ve got to say it.’
‘Oh, all right, if you insist.’ She wanted to sound miffed, but the lilt in her voice, the joy leaping in her breast, made it impossible. ‘But only if I get another orgasm—and soon.’
‘You got it.’ He grinned, put strong hands on her butt and pulled her against him so she could feel the hot, hard length of his arousal through his jeans. ‘Now say it, Red.’
‘I love you to bits, you big oaf.’
‘Okay, that’s it.’ He swung her up into his arms, and strode across the room heading for the bedroom door with her high in his arms. ‘One orgasm coming right up.’
She laughed, clung onto his neck and covered his lips with hers.
EPILOGUE
‘WILL you sit down? You’re nearly six months pregnant, woman.’
‘My point exactly, darling. I’m pregnant, not an invalid.’ Jessie grinned at Monroe’s annoyed expression. ‘I think the hormones must be messing with my brain cells. But I’m actually finding that Lord and Master routine of yours quite a turn on.’
Monroe put his hands around her waist, caressed the soft swell of her belly. Arousal dimmed the annoyance in his eyes. ‘I’m warning you, Mrs Latimer.’ He pulled her to him, dropped his voice to a whisper. ‘If you don’t do as you’re told, you’re gonna pay.’
Jessie wedged her hands against his chest. ‘Don’t you dare kiss me here, Monroe. It’ll end up in the morning papers.’
She peered over his shoulder at the beautiful people that thronged around them, resplendent in their Christmas finery. The clink of champagne glasses and animated conversation, mostly being conducted in loud New York accents, echoed off the art gallery’s bare brick walls. Even though they were discreetly tucked away in a corner, she could see their little embrace had already attracted attention.
She eased Monroe back. ‘Stop pestering me and go and do some more schmoozing. You’re the star attraction tonight, remember.’
It was the opening of Monroe’s second show at Carole Jackson’s elegant New York gallery. Even on Christmas Eve, with the traffic a misery outside and the weather even worse, the space was crammed with the art world’s movers and shakers.
