The Playboy's Baby

‘Oh, Matt...’ she muttered helplessly, a deep flush spreading over her pale cheeks.

‘Relax, darling!’ he murmured, still keeping a firm grip on her fingers, his green eyes glinting with sardonic amusement. ‘I can, of course, offer you a drink or a cup of coffee. However, I’d much rather indulge in a bout of mad, passionate lovemaking. A fact, I may say, which has been at the very top of my agenda since approximately two o‘clock this afternoon! How’s that for plain speaking?’

‘Not bad!’ She grinned, suddenly feeling quite amazingly happy. And the, as he stared down at her, the gleam in his eyes carrying an unmistakable message, the slowly churning excitement in her stomach seemed to burst into a hot surge of overwhelming sexual desire, causing her to feel-almost faint as it raged fiercely through her quivering body.

‘So, like all good financial experts, I’d say that it’s definitely about time we began to discuss the present company’s imminent merger,’ Matt said as he rose to his feet. ‘Not to mention the pressing need to very closely examine the figures concerned!’ he added in a slow drawl, the thick, husky note in his voice positively making her toes curl as he turned to help her rise from the table. ‘What do you think, hmm...?’

It was some moments before Samantha—by now practically speechless with overriding lust and passion—somehow managed to get her act together.

‘I don’t seem to have a problem with that particular item on the... er... the agenda of tonight’s meeting,’ she murmured breathlessly as Matt took her arm and led her slowly out of the restaurant.

CHAPTER TWO

SAMANTHA’S heart was pounding like a sledgehammer, her pulse rate rocketing all over the place as she left the Four Seasons restaurant on Matt’s arm.

In what seemed a dream-like state, totally oblivious of everyone and everything, other than the tall, handsome figure by her side, she was only vaguely conscious of being helped into a large black limousine. As they were swiftly transported through brilliantly lit streets, she had no idea of where they were going. Nor did she care. Just as long as Matt continued to hold her firmly close to his hard, exciting body—they could have been jetting off to Timbuktu, for all she knew!

Coming to a halt at last outside an immensely large, brownstone building, she had only a brief impression of a uniformed doorman greeting Matt before he swept her dazed figure across a vast entrance hall—the only sound in the huge, silent space being the rapid, sharp click of her high-heeled evening sandals on the marble floor—and into an elevator. And then, in what seemed the twinkling of an eye, Matt was unlocking the front door of his apartment

‘Welcome to my humble abode,’ he drawled sardonically as he helped her off with her coat, before ushering her into a huge living room.

Finding herself standing in the midst of what seemed positively acres of lush, thickly piled cream carpeting, Samantha could only stare in open-mouthed astonishment at her luxurious surroundings. The opulent, heavy gilt rococo ‘French Château comes to New York via Hollywood’ style of decoration could only be described as utterly mind-blowing!

‘Make yourself comfortable by the fire,’ Matt directed, picking up a small black handset and pointing it at various objects as he strode towards a mahogany bar on the far side of the room.

Coming slowly back down to earth, she was just wondering how on earth he could bear to live in such dreadful surroundings, when she was startled to see the heavy cream silk, intricately draped curtains being slowly drawn—as if by invisible hands—across the windows, to shut out the chilly darkness of the April night. At the same time, the lamps in the crystal chandeliers slowly dimmed, the brilliant light being replaced by a soft, warm glow from the many occasional lamps dotted about the huge room.

However, when the logs in the massive grate, enclosed by an intricately carved marble mantelpiece, suddenly burst into life she quickly realised that what had at first appeared to be minor miracles were, in fact, merely a result of the appliance of science.

‘Is everything in this “humble abode” operated by remote control?’ she queried, her legs feeling wobbly with nerves as she moved slowly over to the fireplace.

‘No, not entirely. There are still one or two things which I’m quite capable of doing myself!’ Matt told her with a grin, his words accompanied by a loud crack as he removed the cork from a bottle of champagne.

‘It’s definitely all very... er... very grand,’ she murmured, gazing bemusedly at the delicately ornate, highly uncomfortable-looking sofas and chairs covered in blue silk which filled the room—whose walls, covered in dark oil paintings, appeared to be lined in the same blue material.

‘Ghastly, isn’t it?’ he laughed, filling two tall glasses with sparkling gold liquid.

‘Well...’

‘Following my recent appointment as chief executive of the company, I was working practically twenty-four hours a day when I first bought this apartment—which was in a terrible state and badly needed doing up. So, I made the grave error of placing its renovation in the hands of my ex-girlfriend—supposedly a top-notch professional decorator. The rest of the apartment is fine. So why she went so completely over the top in this room is completely beyond me.

‘Unfortunately,’ he added quickly as a mobile phone on the bar beside him gave an imperious buzz, ‘I simply haven’t been able to find the time to clear everything out and start again.’

While he was speaking rapidly into the phone, dealing with some urgent business matter which clearly required an immediate decision, Samantha became aware that the fog in her brain was slowly beginning to dissolve.

Sobering up fast, she realised that in accompanying Matt back here, to this luridly decorated apartment of his, she could have made a really bad, foolish mistake.

For one thing, it was never a good idea to try and recapture the past. Everyone knew that. So, why on earth had she allowed herself to be swept along on this tide of sudden, overwhelming lust and desire—which could so easily turn into nothing more than a highly embarrassing encounter?

Besides... this room was so awful, it seemed highly unlikely that a ‘top-notch’ interior designer would ever produce such a ghastly decorative scheme. Not unless the lady concerned had deliberately planned a not so subtle, bitter revenge against her ex-boyfriend.

Matt, as well as being a successful businessman, was clearly a bit of a playboy. He’d also admitted, in the restaurant, that he was definitely not into ‘commitment’. Which meant that it would be extremely unwise, Samantha told herself nervously, to get involved with someone who’d managed to provoke such a very ruthless, savage reaction from his discarded girlfriend.

So much water had flowed under the bridge since she’d first fallen head over heels in love with this man. Which had to mean that they were now two quite different people. Therefore, any idea that somehow time might have stood still—or that they could simply take up their relationship at the point where it had been broken off—was nothing more than total moonshine!

‘I’m sorry about that,’ Matt said as he finished his call, and tossed his mobile phone down on to a nearby chair. ‘I’ve turned the damned thing off—so we shouldn’t have any more interruptions,’ he added, walking across the room towards her.

‘This room has very good proportions,’ she observed nervously as he handed her a tall glass of champagne. ‘I mean... there must be many other good... er... good interior designers in New York. So, it shouldn’t be too hard to turn it into a... um... a comfortable home.’

Appalled to hear herself gabbling like an idiot, she took a quick sip of the deliciously cold, fizzy golden liquid—desperately trying to ignore the way her body was now responding with nervous, tingling excitement to the close proximity of his tall, lean figure.

If it were anyone else, she wouldn’t have a problem. It was just Matt and their past history together... which . must be the reason why she was suddenly feeling as jumpy as hell. So, the smart move must be to try to extricate herself from this tricky situation—as swiftly as possible.

‘Good heavens—just look at the time!’ she exclaimed shrilly, pointedly turning to glance at an ornate French clock, on a spindly side table. ‘I hadn’t realised it was quite so late. I... er... I really think that I should...’

‘I really think that you should calm down,’ he drawled smoothly, placing his glass down on the mantelpiece.

‘Nonsense! I’m perfectly calm,’ she snapped, utterly exhausted by the frantic pounding of her heart and yet, at the same time, feeling so desperately tense and on edge that it seemed as though she’d never again be able to relax.

But his only reply was a toe-curling, low rumble of laughter as he slipped an arm about her slender waist, deftly removing the tall champagne flute from her shaky fingers and placing it beside his own glass, before putting his other arm about her trembling body.

‘Relax, sweetheart!’ he murmured huskily, raising a hand to brush a stray lock of hair from her brow softly.

Shivering at the velvety touch of his fingers on her skin, which were now trailing slowly down over the long line of her neck, a rush of heat seemed to scorch through her veins, her stomach muscles clenching into a hard knot of feverish desire as he began pulling her closer to his tall figure.

Gazing helplessly up at him, she could see a muscle beating in his jaw, a slight flush on the high cheekbones beneath his tanned skin, with the glittering green eyes beneath their heavy lids now growing cloudy and opaque as he stared down at the trembling lips and the confused, troubled expression on her face.

‘I’m sorry, Matt. I...I know you must think that I’m an utter fool,’ she confessed in a husky, breathless voice. ‘But...’

‘On the contrary,’ he murmured thickly. ‘I think you’re sensationally attractive, and a very, very sexy lady.’

‘But, I shouldn’t have come back here, to your apartment It’s impossible to try and recapture the past,’ she protested. ‘Quite honestly, we...we could both be making a bad mistake.’

‘I’ve certainly made some wrong decisions in my life—but this definitely isn’t one of them,’ he told her flatly, the hard certainty in his voice sending shivers down her backbone.

‘No, you’re not thinking it through!’ she gasped.

He gave a low snort of derisory laughter. ‘I’m not interested in “thinking” about anything, at the moment. I just need to hold you...to feel you...’

‘Matt! This really isn’t a good idea,’ she muttered helplessly, aware that her body was denying her words of caution; that her swelling breasts and the visible hardening of her nipples were clearly signalling the rising tide of sensual need and passion, now sweeping through her trembling figure. But, quite unable to do anything about it, she could only gaze weakly up at the tanned face, now only inches away from her own.

‘Believe me, this is just about the only idea I’ve had since first setting eyes on you this afternoon.’

His deep, husky voice seemed to echo around the large room, time standing still as his arms slowly tightened about her.

And then, with sudden impatience, he pulled her hard up against his firmly muscled body, before lowering his dark head and possessing her lips in a long-drawn-out kiss of overwhelming sensuality.

At the first touch of his warm lips on hers, there could be no denying that this was what she had been both hungering for and yet, at the same time, fearing since first setting eyes on him this afternoon. She was powerless, totally unable to do anything other than eagerly respond to the mouth moving over her lips with insidious persuasion, gently forcing and probing them apart with a deeply erotic, seductive arousal that totally inflamed her senses.