Playboy Boss, Pregnancy Of Passion Part 10

She curled her fingers round his. 'Memories help to make you who you are.'

'Even the bad ones?' The words were out before he could stop them. Horrified, he shook his hand free. 'Forget I said that.'

'Even the bad ones,' she said, recapturing his hand, 'because they teach you what you don't want out of life.'

Something in her voice alerted him. He looked at her, shaken out of his own nightmare. 'That,' he said, 'sounds personal.'

'I've made some pretty bad decisions in the past. You know what you said about me believing everyone's nice until proven otherwise?' At his nod she explained, 'I discovered someone who wasn't so nice.'

He had a pretty good idea that the person in question was male, and had hurt her badly. So he tightened his fingers briefly round hers, to show her he understood and he sympathised without pitying.

'But there's always a positive. Making that mistake hurt-a lot-but it helped me to realise what I don't want. And I won't repeat my mistakes.'

Was that a warning? He needed to know. 'Was this morning a mistake?' he asked softly.

'I don't know.'

At least she'd been honest with him. Even though it stung.

'Was it a mistake for you?' she asked.

He could see the vulnerability in her eyes. No way could he say yes and hurt her. On the other hand, he had a feeling that, despite their agreement that morning, Sara believed in happy-ever-afters. Something he wasn't sure he could offer her. The only thing he could do was to be honest. 'I don't know, either. I didn't plan it to be like this.'

'Maybe,' she said, 'we both plan too much. Maybe we should just...see how things go.'

It shocked him that he was still holding her hand. It shocked him even more to realise that he didn't want to let it go. 'Yeah. Though it might be a bit late for taking things slowly.'

Colour bloomed in her cheeks. And he wanted to kiss her all over again, lose himself in her. 'We'll see how things go,' he said, and he kept his hand in hers.

As they reached the harbour, Sara nudged him and gestured towards the chalked signs for boat trips.

He read them swiftly. 'You want to go out in the bay and see the seals?'

'And the puffins,' she added with a smile. 'It's only for an hour and a half. I'll swap it for the paddle in the sea.'

'Feel free to go, if you want to. Though it's not my kind of thing.'

'Hey, if you're going into seaside hotels and leisure, you need to know what's on offer locally-so you can advise your guests.'

'If I'm not going to invest here, there isn't much point in scoping out the local facilities,' he pointed out.

'Ah, but you need a benchmark. Something by which you can judge other operators. Besides, a bit of sea air will blow the cobwebs away.'

He sighed. 'All right. If you insist, we'll go and see the seals.'

'Are you sure you can take sitting still and not using your mobile phone or sneaking in some work on a report-for all of an hour and a half?' she teased.

'No. But we'll do it, if it shuts you up about shorts and paddling.'

She wasn't the slightest bit abashed. 'Good. Oh, and as this is my idea, I'm paying.'

'Bu-'

'No arguments,' she cut in.

Well, OK. He was picking up the bill for everything else that weekend; if she wanted to do this, he wasn't going to refuse and make her feel bad. Even though it was far from his idea of being a treat. 'Thank you,' he said politely.

She bought the tickets, and their timing was perfect because the next trip was about to depart. There was just room enough for them in the boat, so he had to sit very close to her. And nearly everyone on the boat seemed to be in a family.

Well, he'd just have to live with it.

He pretended to be absorbed in the commentary. On the rocks, seals were basking in the sun. One rolled over and flapped a flipper, causing one of the children to yell that the seal was waving at him.

And even the seals were in family groups. The bull, large and protective, the cow, secure next to her mate, and the pup, settled happily and cuddled up to its parents.

Even though he usually avoided family situations as much as possible, part of him was charmed by the seals' huge dark eyes and almost spaniel-like faces. Some of the seals, more inquisitive than the others, made their c.u.mbersome way into the water-and then suddenly they were gliding along, their heads bobbing up and disappearing and bobbing up again an impossible distance away.

He glanced at Sara. She was smiling; although her sungla.s.ses hid the expression in her eyes, he'd bet they were all warm and soft. Right at that moment, she looked like a real English rose. And he really had to make an effort to stop himself pulling her close and kissing her.

'They're gorgeous, aren't they?' she asked.

'Yes,' he admitted.

Though he was glad she hadn't asked him if he was glad she'd pushed him into this. Because he really wasn't sure. Although the waters around them were so calm it was practically like a millpond, suddenly it felt as if he were sailing a tiny dinghy in high seas. Nothing was quite the same as it had been yesterday, and he couldn't put his finger on why he felt so thrown. Though he suspected it had something to do with her.

He listened to the crew's tales about the Old Horse Rocks and the seals, watched the puffins bobbing on the water, far tinier than he'd expected them to be, and then, as they sailed in close to the smugglers' coves, listened to tales of the rumrunners and pirates.

'You know, you'd look great as a pirate,' Sara said with a grin.

'I am not wearing shorts. Or an eye patch.'

'Arrr,' she mocked, in her best pirate impersonation, 'you're a chicken, you arrr.'

He just loved the way she teased him. And what was sauce for the goose... He bent his head so he could whisper into her ear. 'If you're asking me to play pirate tonight, honey, and rip your clothes off and ravish you, then it can be arranged.'

And he grinned when she blushed like a beacon.

Good. He was back in control of things again. And that was just how he liked it.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

WHEN they reached dry land again, Sara said, 'So are you going to admit you enjoyed that?'

'The seals were cute. And the puffins.'

'But?'

Well, she'd asked him straight. He had to be honest. 'It's not really my kind of thing.' When she didn't say anything but the why? was clear in her expression, he sighed. 'Too many kids.'

'You don't like children?'

'My idea of h.e.l.l,' he said, 'would be having to work in a nursery or a cla.s.sroom. And be on playground duty.'

'You'd hate what my mum does, then-going out to local schools and telling them all about apples and old-fas.h.i.+oned Kentish recipes.'

'Mmm.' Not his scene at all.

'So you don't ever want children of your own?'

Absolutely not. He'd had a miserable childhood with a dad who hadn't been there half the time and a mum who had been physically present but too full of tranquillisers to notice anything. OK, so Luke wasn't his dad, but he wouldn't know how to begin to be a good father. And he had no intention of trying. 'Marriage and babies,' he said, 'are seriously overrated.'

'There's more to life than work.'

'True.' He shrugged. 'And there's more to life than babies.'

'Actually,' she said, 'babies are the point. Without them, the human race would die out.'

Trust her to zero in on that. 'I guess you're right. Someone has to produce children. But it's not going to be me.' A nasty realisation struck him. 'So you're looking for marriage and babies?'

'Not at the moment. But eventually, yes. When I meet the right person.'

'Mr Right? Do you really believe in all that hype?'

She spread her hands. 'My parents have been together for thirty-five years. My sister Louisa's happily married with a toddler. My brother Rupert's engaged. And I think Justin is seeing someone-though he's probably keeping it quiet because he knows that, the minute Lou finds out, she'll start planning his wedding.' She smiled. 'She has this terrible habit of matchmaking. She claims credit for three weddings and two engagements, excluding her own.'

Luke made a mental note to stay well away from Sara's sister.

He was being paranoid. His relations.h.i.+p with Sara was strictly business, or had been until this morning. Well. Physically, it had been strictly business. He'd been fantasising about Sara Fleet from the second he'd met her.

'Whatever floats your boat,' he said, aiming for cool. And he really wanted to stop talking about weddings and families. It was way, way outside his comfort zone. He glanced at his watch. 'I need to make a couple of calls, and I left the relevant paperwork back in the hotel. Do you mind?'

'No. Though I think I'll just go for a walk on the seafront. I might have that ice cream I've been promising myself.'

'Sure. I'll see you back at the room whenever you're ready.'

Though she didn't look too enthralled at the idea of going back to their hotel.

As he approached the place, he could see exactly what she meant. It wasn't genteel shabby at all. It was forlorn. The suns.h.i.+ne was unforgiving because it made the place look even worse.

Yet it had so much potential...

He shook himself. Forget the calls. They could wait. There was something else he needed to do first.

A couple of minutes on the Internet found him exactly the right place. A larger version of the sort of place he'd thought about turning his hotel into. Old-fas.h.i.+oned and yet with all mod cons. A place with a history and stunning views over the bay, and, better still, their best suite was free due to a last-minute cancellation.

He settled their bill at reception. 'Sorry, something cropped up and we have to leave,' he said. It was a fib, but the receptionist looked miserable so why make her day worse than it clearly already was? 'But of course I'll pay for tonight's room.'

He'd just finished packing their cases when Sara walked back in.

'What are you doing?' she asked, looking shocked.

'We're leaving.'

'What, now?' She glanced at her watch. 'At this rate we won't be back in London until ten o'clock-and that's if we don't stop on the way.'

'We're not going to London,' he explained. 'We're moving.'

'What?'

'I think we both deserve a non-lumpy mattress tonight.'

'And you just packed for us both.'

Was she going to have a hissy fit about the fact he'd packed her stuff? 'Yes, because it was quicker than waiting for you to get back, and I folded your stuff carefully. Let's go.'

Once Luke had made his mind up to do something, Sara thought, he didn't hang about. There was no point in discussing it further, so she simply followed him out to the car.

The hotel he'd booked was only a few minutes away and it was spotless from the outside. Perfect paintwork, without even the hint of a chip or a crack, the windows sparkled, and the car park at the back had tubs of summer flowers to brighten it up.

Inside, it was even better. Again, Luke refused to let her carry her case; when he'd picked up the key from the friendly, smiling receptionist, they took the lift to the top floor. Every surface was clean and, even in the lift, the carpet was so thick that you sank into it.

'Our suite,' Luke said, unlocking the door and ushering her in. 'Take a look around and see what you think.'

It was huge. A living room with comfortable sofas, a low coffee table and another table with a kettle and a selection of coffee, different kinds of tea and hot chocolate, plus fantastic biscuits. Another table held a beautiful display of fresh flowers. The French windows led onto a balcony with stunning views of Scarborough Bay-and she realised with pleasure that they'd actually be able to watch the sun set from there. There was a wrought-iron bistro table and two chairs on the balcony and another tub of the beautiful summer flowers like the ones in the car park.

There were two bathrooms, to her surprise, one with a power shower and one with a whirlpool bath. Complimentary toiletries, thick fluffy bath robes hanging on the door and plenty of room for spreading out.

Though there was only one bedroom. With an enormous bed, admittedly-but it was just one bed.

'This doesn't mean I'm expecting you to sleep with me,' Luke said softly from the doorway. 'I'll do the gentlemanly thing and sleep on the sofa, if you like.'

He was giving her the choice.

'It's a big bed,' she said.

'Super-king size, according to the girl on reception,' he told her.

'And we're perfectly capable of sharing it without...' Then she saw the smile on his face. 'What?'

'I was just remembering waking up this morning.' There was a distinct glitter in his eye. Amus.e.m.e.nt mixed with desire.

She felt her face heat. 'Um.'