The Rebel (The Millionaire Malones Book 3) (10 page)

‘Okay,’ Maggie said.

‘Glad we’ve got that straight.’

‘Me too.’

‘Goodnight,’ Cooper said quietly.

‘Night,’ she replied.

And then Cooper
leaned down to kiss Maggie goodnight. Like friends do.

Except, in the dark he missed her cheek completely, and his lips landed on her mouth.

‡

I
t was meant
to be a mate’s goodnight peck on the cheek. Nothing more. Cooper had gone to her room because he’d figured she needed reassuring after that conversation about her sex life. Or the lack of it, to be more precise. And heading into her room to explain,
to tell her it wasn’t her fault, had everything to do with being a friend and absolutely nothing to do with wanting to kiss her.

Nope, a kiss definitely wasn’t on his mind when he walked into her room.

But when he found her mouth in the darkness instead of her cheek? Something clicked in his brain. Or maybe lower. And from that moment, he could no more have ended that kiss than danced a jig
on his bad leg. Years of regret ignited the heat he felt, the regret that he hadn’t kicked Vance to the curb all those years ago and broken the wingman rule when he’d had the chance to.

Her lips were soft where he expected firm, slow when he’d expected fast and they tasted like … oh, they tasted sweet and hot and like the woman he always suspected she was.

When he resisted the voice in his head
telling him to stop, when he moved his lips just a little to nibble her top lip, hers parted on a sigh and when she let loose a little moan in the back of her throat, he was done for.

And then Cooper wanted more. He needed to deepen the kiss, and he moved over her, planted a hand on either side of her soft pillow, as well as he could manage with his leg still aching, and Maggie responded by reaching
for him, by splayed her hands on his still damp chest. And if he’d felt pressure there in her fingers, pushing him away, he would have dragged his lips from hers, but it wasn’t that kind of pressure. She flattened her palms on his abs and clenched against his bare skin and it was like lightning.

Holy shit.

This was Maggie Mac and he was kissing her and she was kissing him right back. And she
tasted like honey and sex and when her fingers slipped around him, under his arms onto his back, her tongue teasing his, her fingernails digging into his back …

He had to stop.

It ached to do it but he did.

She’d been drinking. She didn’t know what she was doing.

And he did?

Cooper pulled back, giving him just enough space to murmur against her lips, just enough to feel her ragged breath
on his cheek.

‘Maggie?’ he managed.

‘Oh, Coop,’ she panted and when she got her breath back, she added, ‘That was really stupid.’ She hadn’t moved her hands from his back. He liked the way they felt, as if she was claiming him, as if, any second now, she would pull him down against her. He wanted her breasts slammed against him, was desperate to feel her breathe and have her arch her back into
him as they kissed some more.

He searched her eyes, trying to see what was in them, but it was too dark. Would he see regret or would he see desire? ‘Stupid? Yeah, that was pretty stupid all right.’

Maggie blew out a breath. Her hands were still on him. ‘Damn stupid.’

‘It was dark. I missed your cheek.’

‘I know,’ she whispered.

‘Okay,’ he replied.

He could still feel her breath, could still
taste her lips. They sat in the silence and the darkness, breathing, settling their heartbeats, looking at each other.

Her hands slowly slipped away.

Cooper leaned down and pressed a peck to her forehead. This time his aim was dead on. ‘Goodnight, Maggie Mac. Sleep tight.’

And he slowly got to his feet and shuffled out, closing the door behind him.

*

Maggie lay awake
for two hours, wired, feeling weird and incredibly aroused. Like molten lava. No, more wired than that. As if she’d just stuck a finger in the electric socket. A nervous energy skittered from head to toe, tingling her toes and setting off those fireworks again like it was the Fourth of July on a repeating loop.

What the hell had just happened?

That was a kiss.

And the fact
that Cooper had kissed her like that—and she’d kissed him right back
like that
—couldn’t be possible.

In all the time she’d known him, he’d never given her any hint that he wanted to kiss her. Not once—and she’d been watching like a hawk. No, he was in her life because of Evan. She could see it in his eyes when her little man did something new, and Cooper was there to share in the joy and happiness
of that. Cooper had bought Evan his first helmet when he’d learnt to ride his bike. When Evan had learnt to swim, Cooper found the smallest body board he could find so he could take Evan out into the water off San Clemente and teach him how to read waves and then ride them. He loved Evan, Maggie had no doubt about that.

But in her heart she knew that he would never love her. And she’d made her
peace with that. Sure, she and Evan had kissed each other, but they’d always been friendly pecks on the cheek. Hugs had been long and reassuring, but friendly. She couldn’t ever remember a longing look. No fireworks. No sexual innuendo. No teasing that had crossed the line. There had never been a near miss after a few too many wines. Not once. Cooper’s attentions were always elsewhere with, no doubt,
a string of women on the pro tour, and she’d poured all her energy into raising Evan and being a good mom.

The last time she was spontaneous and wild was the night she met Vance.

There was no room for spontaneous and wild in her life anymore.

Maggie turned on her side, hugged her pillow close.

So why had she let that part of her come alive? Why had she kissed Cooper back? Was she that desperate
after all her long lonely years as a born-again virgin? Surely that had to be it. It was biology, that was all. A purely female and absolutely natural hormonal response to feeling him pressed hard up against her that morning.

Hard.

She gulped at the thought, Oh, he’d been hard.

And that kiss, that accidental kiss? God knew what had come over her, but her response, kissing him right back, stroking
his skin, opening her mouth and flicking his tongue with hers?

Biology and hormones.

Her trouble was, kissing him like that had her thinking about what she’d been missing all these years. And that was going to be a big, big problem.

*

The next morning,
Maggie broached the subject first. She’d slept later than usual, feeling guiltily
thankful that Evan was still at her mother’s and therefore not home to wake her at the crack of dawn. When she entered the kitchen, she could smell coffee and toast. Cooper was at the kitchen table, his left leg straight out at an angle, and he was flipping through the pages of a surfing magazine. When he heard her footsteps, he looked up. Sun from the window lit up his face. He was shirtless.
His blond hair was golden and his smile said he was glad to see her.

She sighed at how beautiful he was. ‘Hey,’ she said, keeping her place in the doorway, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorjamb.

‘Hey. Good sleep-in?’

She yawned. ‘Yeah. But I need coffee.’

‘I brewed some already.’

‘I can smell that.’ Maggie crossed the room, grabbed herself a cup and hesitated. ‘You want one?’

‘No, thanks. You know I hate your American coffee.’

She chuckled as she poured herself a cup and found some creamer from the refrigerator. ‘How can that still be a thing with you? You’ve lived here for years.’

‘And I don’t know how I do it. It’s the worst thing about living here in the States. I can’t get a decent Italian-style coffee. I don’t know what I miss about Australia the most: my brothers,
the people or the coffee. Maybe I’ll have to move to New York.’

‘No waves in New York,’ Maggie pointed out.

‘Ah, that is true.’

‘Well, here’s to a good old American cup o’ joe.’ Maggie lifted her mug as if to salute him and took a sip. She wrapped her hands around it and breathed in the aroma. She knew she needed to be wide awake and fully in charge of all her senses to have the conversation
she needed to have with Cooper.

He closed the magazine and sat back in this chair, studying her.

‘Like looking at yourself on the cover, do you?’ They both looked down at the glossy picture. It was a medium close-up of Cooper, dripping wet, a broad smile on his handsome face and one arm wrapped around an upright surfboard. The logo on it was his surname, Malone, in stylised lettering, mirroring
the shape of a setting sun on a blue horizon.

Cooper chuckled. ‘Like having magazines with me on the cover lying around your house, do you?’

‘Well, it’s not every day a friend of mine gets his name on a surfboard.’

He smiled, broad and proud. ‘No, it’s not.’

Cooper’s look softened. Maggie saw the change, from a man’s pride to something uncertain. He looked down at the table.

She had to do
this now.

‘Cooper …’ she said.

‘Maggie …’ he said at the same time.

They chuckled. Cooper ran a hand through his hair. ‘You first.’

Maggie gulped her coffee. ‘Look. I need to say something about what happened last night.’

‘Yeah, me too.’ Cooper splayed his fingers flat out on the table. Tanned and strong, the fine blond hairs on the back of his hands caught the light and shimmered, like they
were covered with a fine film of sand.

‘You do?’ she asked, surprised.

‘Yeah. And the thing is, Maggie Mac, is that …’

‘Go on.’

‘I shouldn’t have kissed you.’

Thank God he said it first.

‘No.’ Maggie felt a little catch in her throat and tried to swallow it away. ‘And I shouldn’t have kissed you back.’

He began to drum his fingers on the table top. ‘You know that’s not what I was after
when I went into your room.’

‘I know. I believe you.’ Maggie tried not to feel her heart sinking like a stone.

They sat staring at each other for a long moment.

‘Maggie.’ Cooper looked up at her, his face serious. ‘I need to ask you something. If it’s six years since you’ve actually had sex, is it also six years since you kissed someone?’

She exhaled. Cooper was experienced. He’d obviously
noticed. Had she been that needy when he’d pressed his lips to hers? Had he suspected anything about how she really felt? She shivered at the thought.

‘Uh huh,’ she confirmed. ‘Six years. No bedroom action whatsoever. There should be a medal for this or something,’ Maggie muttered as she dropped her chin into her hand and stared down into her half-empty coffee cup. ‘Was it that obvious?’

That
drumming was turning into a full-on rock beat. ‘Let’s just say you kiss like a woman who hasn’t had sex in a while.’

‘Yay for me,’ Maggie said quietly and when his words sunk in a little deeper, she felt stung by them. ‘Sorry if I was a little … rusty. I mean, who can compare with all the thousands of women you’ve kissed?