One Night with a Tempting Playboy: From Playboy to Papa! / The Legendary Playboy Surgeon / Unwrapping the Playboy. Marie Ferrarella

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One Night with a Tempting Playboy: From Playboy to Papa! / The Legendary Playboy Surgeon / Unwrapping the Playboy - Marie  Ferrarella

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it does happen, we can get married,” he said calmly.

      She gaped at him in shock. “Married,” she echoed and began to shake her head.

      “It’s not the worst thing in the world. You and I have something big in common. Joel. That’s more than a lot of people getting married have in common.”

      “But we hardly even know each other. We don’t love each other.”

      He dropped his hands from her shoulders and shrugged. “So, what’s love anyway? Intense lust? I think we proved we have that for each other.”

      Appalled by his cavalier attitude, she shook her head. “You don’t believe in love?”

      A shadow of cynicism crossed his face. “I thought I did one time. I was wrong.”

      He was speaking of Tabitha. He’d thought he was in love with her. Her stomach gave a vicious wrench. For an awful second, she feared she was some kind of substitution for her sister. Suddenly feeling overexposed in every way, she pulled the bedspread over her.

      “Cold?” he asked.

      She nodded, but the feeling wasn’t just physical. “I—uh.” She cleared her throat. “This is awkward, but I need to be alone.”

      “Buyer’s remorse?” he asked, still beautifully, unabashedly naked.

      She bit her lip. “Overwhelmed. It happened so fast. I didn’t think it through.”

      “Are you suggesting that I pushed you? Because—”

      “No,” she said. “If anything it was the opposite. That dream was so frightening. I was desperate to feel alive.”

      “Any man would do?” he asked, lifting a dark brow.

      “Of course not.” She sighed. “I’m not myself. I’m rattled. I need—” She took another breath. “I need some time alone.”

      “Okay,” he said, touching his finger to her nose. “But be forewarned, if you start screaming again, I’m coming inhere.”

      She smiled, but suspected it came across as more of a grimace. “No more screaming.”

      He shot her a look full of sensual promise as he rose from the bed. “No need to be rash. Under the right circumstances, screaming can be good.”

      She forced herself to look away from him as he pulled on his boxers. He caught her by surprise when he slid his hand beneath her chin and kissed her. “Don’t worry. Things could be much worse,” he said, then left her to sort out her thoughts.

      After he left, she waited for herself to settle down, to become rational again. Even though she’d known she was attracted to Rafe, there were so many reasons for her not to give in to her feelings.

      First, she needed to remain objective for Joel’s sake. She still needed to find out if Rafe had any potential of being abusive, and if she did, she would fight to the death to keep him away from Joel. Secondly, her sister had been involved with Rafe. She’d always stayed away from men who’d dated Tabitha. If a man fell for Tabitha, then he couldn’t possibly be right for Nicole. She was too different. Beyond those two mountains of objections, she’d just learned that Rafe didn’t believe in love. Did she want to spend her entire life with such a cynical man?

      Nicole’s head began to ache. Torn in a dozen different directions, she climbed out of bed and took a shower in the adjoining bathroom. Maybe the water could wash away her confusion.

      The following morning, Nicole had to drag herself out of bed. After urging Joel to eat his breakfast, she drove him to his preschool, walked him inside and kissed him. He seemed a little less nervous than he had been the previous week.

      After she waved good-bye, she returned to Rafe’s house, full of restlessness. She still couldn’t make sense of what had happened between her and Rafe last night, but she knew she couldn’t blame him for it. She’d been an all-too-willing participant.

      Her cell phone rang, distracting her from her thoughts. Her father’s number appeared on the caller ID and her stomach tensed. She took a careful breath and answered.

      “Hello, Father,” she said in the calmest voice she could muster.

      “Nicole, I’ve had a hard time getting in touch with you. I called your house with no response,” her father said.

      “That’s because I’m not there,” she said. “I decided Joel and I should take a little vacation. We’re in Florida having a wonderful time.”

      “This is so sudden. You should have told me you were going,” he chided. “You know I like to keep tabs on you and my grandson.”

      The undertone of manipulation in his voice clawed across her skin like a scratchy sweater. “No need to worry,” she said. “We’re having a fabulous time. We’re going to swim with the dolphins.”

      An uncomfortable silence followed. “Where exactly are you staying?” her father asked.

      “Miami,” she said. “In a cottage.” The gross understatement stuck in her throat, but she swallowed it.

      Another silence followed. “Miami,” he echoed. “I have business contacts down there. I should visit.”

      Nicole felt a surge of panic. “Oh, I’m not sure about that. We’re so busy. Joel is taking swimming lessons and we’re doing kiddy activities every day.”

      “Hmmm,” her father said.

      Her nervousness rose with each passing second. “Well, I don’t want to keep you,” she said.

      “You’re not. I’m back from Greece. Working a deal with the Argyros cruise line. It looks promising. I should close it within the next week.”

      “Congratulations,” she said, because she couldn’t think of anything else.

      “Good instincts and hard work,” he said. “Let me talk to my grandson.”

      “He’s in class at the moment,” she said. “Art class.”

      “Art,” he said with a condescending tone. “You need to get him into something more competitive. A man needs a competitive drive in this world.”

      “He’s not a man yet,” she said.

      “But he will be. You need to make sure he’s ready. I worry that you won’t,” he said with the slightest edge to his voice.

      “No need to worry, Father. He’s not quite four yet,” she told him, tamping down her impatience.

      “He’s never too young to develop his competitive edge,” he said.

      “I hear you,” she said, wanting to end the call, feeling as if he was closing in on her.

      “You hear, but do you act?” he challenged.

      “Of course, I do,” she said. “Thank you for calling me. And congratulations

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