when he came over to her, though she looked at his mother and grandmother. “Would it be okay if Stephanie sat with the kids before dinner? There’s something we need to talk about in the drawing room.”
“Is everything okay?” Valerie asked, her mommy senses probably tingling.
“Are you pregnant?” Faye asked. “If Turner got you pregnant—”
“No, I’m not pregnant. It shouldn’t take long.” Because Zoey didn’t want it to. “Can I meet you down there in ten minutes?”
“Sure,” Faye said, noting her mother’s loose nod.
They had to be curious. It was only natural. Adrenaline was beginning to course through her. Backing out, Poppy asked the twins and Charley to meet her downstairs in the drawing room before going into Turner’s room.
He wasn’t in the bedroom, but she could hear the shower. If he hadn’t been back, she’d have needed to run to the site and get him. In that scenario, he wouldn’t have the chance to freshen up like she’d wanted him to have.
Going to the closet, Poppy grabbed jeans and a belt, then one of his tee-shirts from the drawer. Taking the clothes to the bathroom, she laid them on the vanity and then went to lay both hands on the outside of the fogged shower screen.
“First, are you almost done?”
The steam on the other side made it difficult to see specifics, but he turned her way. “If you’re dirty, there’s plenty of space.”
She smiled. “If I wanted to join you, I’d have come in.” The door slid aside and he reached out, so she leaped back. “No!” Poppy screeched, laughing. “I am not joining you.”
“There’s plenty of room,” he said, lunging toward her again.
“No!” It was difficult not to just leap in there with him when he looked both delicious and relaxed. When she noticed that he was enjoying himself too, a little too much, she spun around to put her back to him. “You need to finish up fast.”
“I don’t need to,” he said and she saw his form in the steamed mirror approaching her from behind. “I can take my time.”
Scooping her hair aside, he dipped down to kiss the sweet spot behind her ear. “Oh, I should’ve known better,” Poppy sighed as her eyes closed. “I shouldn’t have come in here.”
“Maybe you wanted something…” He eased down the straps of her dress to kiss across her shoulder. “Something like this.”
When his damp hand found its way into her bra, Poppy forced herself to grab it out and free herself. “I love you, baby, I do,” she said, reversing toward the door. “But I need you to get dressed. Your family are waiting for us in the drawing room.”
The carnal shadow in his gaze cleared a little. “Why? They’re waiting for us?”
She nodded. “I asked them to wait and I came to get you…” Her attention might have strayed down his body again and snagged on the toy she wasn’t allowed to play with. “I’ll find us that corner soon, First. I promise. But… please…” Squeezing her eyes closed, Poppy knew she wouldn’t tear herself away if the feast he offered was still on display. “Meet me in the bedroom in a minute… Clothed… put your clothes on.”
Without even opening her eyes, Poppy waved in the direction of the vanity where his clothes were laid out and darted out of the room, closing the door to block her route back.
Turner. Every time it amazed her how he still had the power to awe and overwhelm her. It had been too long since they’d had sex, she needed to remedy that quickly. Just the fact that she was thinking about it rather than Zoey’s turmoil was a wakeup call. Shaking herself back to her senses, Poppy took a deep breath.
“What is this summit for?” Turner asked.
Poppy hadn’t heard him come in, though when she turned to his voice to find him clothed, she was so grateful. “I’m not pregnant,” she said because it had been Faye’s go to, though that only intensified his frown. “Sorry, just, are you ready?”
“I don’t know. Tell me what’s going on.”
She shook her head and went to take his hand. “I don’t need to prepare you because I have complete faith in you, my love. Everyone’s waiting, come on.” At the stairs, she paused. “Go down and I’ll meet you there.”
“Poppy,” he said with an edge of warning. “What’s going on?”
She bounced up to kiss him, “Just trust me.”
Although there was definite suspicion in his gaze and hesitation in his form, Turner followed