If only the tying-her-up part didn’t still sound so good...
“Are you too hot? Too cold?”
“I’m fine,” she said in a clipped voice.
“Have you been—”
The most self-assured man she’d ever known suddenly looked like he didn’t know what to say. Darn it, Sophie told herself, it wasn’t the least bit adorable.
“Have you been sick?”
“No. Mostly I’ve just been tired.” But I thought that was because every time I tried to fall asleep I ended up thinking about you instead. “That’s why I didn’t realize I was pregnant until today.”
“Good,” he said in a gruff voice as he refilled her half-empty glass of water and slid a plate of warm soda bread with butter melting on it toward her before moving behind the stove. “I’m glad you’ve felt okay.”
It was hard to remember he didn’t really care about her at all, when he was being so sweet. How on earth was she going to keep her guard up for seven days?
And how the heck had he even gotten her to agree to a week in the first place?
Sophie still wasn’t sure, although she didn’t think she’d ever forget the expression on his face when she’d told him she didn’t want anything from him and would deal with the baby all by herself without ever naming him as the father.
Jake had looked momentarily lost. Then angry. Then determined.
Maybe she should have come more prepared for his reaction, but she hadn’t expected him to want a baby. Especially not hers. And, frankly, she still didn’t understand why he did want it. Jake was the ultimate bachelor. His night-driven life didn’t lend itself to family dynamics.
Tomorrow, after a good eight hours of sleep, she’d make herself face him down again and demand an answer. Tonight, however, she wasn’t even sure how she was going to stay awake through this meal.
“I can’t believe you know how to cook.” The simple statement came out with such a bite, more than she even knew she had in her. Sophie couldn’t understand how she could love and hate him at the same time...just that she did.
He gave her a half-smile, not quite the smirk she was so used to. There was something in this smile that was different, almost as if he was a little embarrassed to be caught out at something that didn’t scream womanizing male.
“I had to learn when the cook was sick and no one else was around to do it.”
“I never thought about how hard it must have been to have your own restaurant,” she said, assuming he was talking about buying and operating the first McCann’s Irish Pub.
“Yeah,” he said, “it was crazy knowing that running McCann’s was entirely up to me. Win or lose, I was the guy to blame, but that’s not where I learned to cook. I was ten. My dad was working the taps. I would hang out in the back, wash dishes for quarters. The cook was too drunk to fry up the orders. He passed out in the back and the customers were giving my father trouble. He told me to cook.” Jake transferred the vegetables to a plate, then sliced the pork roast he’d heated up on the plate beside it. “So I cooked.”
How long had she wanted to know something like this about Jake’s life? How long had she dreamed of being close enough to him to actually hear stories of his childhood? Now that the moment had finally come, she was so mad at him. Too mad—and too tired—to really appreciate it.
He slid the plate in front of her and it smelled wonderful. “Standard Irish fare.” There was a hint of defensiveness in his tone. “It’s what I do best.”
That, she knew, was where he was wrong. The food looked amazing, but she already knew what he did best. And while it involved plenty of heat, the kitchen wasn’t the preferred location...and there were a heck of a lot less clothes involved.
“The bed is non-negotiable.”
Over and over his earlier words played in her head, thrumming through her body, making every cell come completely alive, alert with wanting, despite how exhausted she was. She’d already accepted that seven days in close proximity with Jake would make it impossible to guard her hormones. Especially when she now knew exactly how good he could make her feel.
Only this time, she was smart enough to know she needed to guard her heart. No matter what.
Fortunately, the growling of her stomach stole her attention back from how close his bed had to be. She reached for the knife and fork. “Thanks for dinner.”
It wasn’t the most grateful she’d ever sounded, but it was the best she could do for now. Jake would just have to deal with it. But when she took a bite, she couldn’t stop the moan of appreciation coming from her lips.
“You like it?”
He was smiling at her and when she looked up at him, when she saw those dark eyes on her like that, looking so pleased with pleasing her, she lost hold of every thought...lost hold of anything but the sudden, desperate need to feel his mouth on hers again, taking her, possessing her the way he had during their one beautiful night together.
It didn’t help when his smile changed, shifting to an intense look of desire that she was sure mirrored hers exactly.
Somehow she managed to pull herself together enough to say, “It’s great.” She took another bite, hoping that if she kept her mouth stuffed full, she could keep her lips focused on something other than feeling Jake’s pressing against them.
“Good. There’s more if you need it.”
She frowned. “Wait, aren’t you having some?”