His Irresistible Darling - Sarah Randall Page 0,75

for months, that she was all he’d ever thought about from the moment he opened his eyes each morning, that the whole Dubai deal could have gone under and he would still have been thinking about her—about her laugh, her energy, her bravery, the way she threw herself into everything and drew people towards her like they were caught in her gravitational pull, how she made him question everything about his own life.

Thankfully she finally ran out of cushions and stormed off to their bedroom, muttering eye-watering curses on her way, but her raging comments about his father lingered and festered in his mind. She was right; how could he complain to her about how his father had dictated his early years and was still intent on trying to do so, when he hadn’t told him straight to his face years ago that he was his own man and would no longer simply jump to his tune? His hasty engagement to Faridah was a perfect example. Yes, he knew of her family but all arrangements had been made in his absence whilst he’d been visiting Matt and inspecting his new foal. His father had been busy making advantageous family arrangements on his behalf and no sooner had he arrived back on Dubain than hey presto, he had a new fiancée. Intelligent and beautiful yes, but not his choice. His choice was thousands of miles away living her fun-filled life to the max. At the time, it had suited his own hastily made plans to put Pippa as far from his thoughts as possible, so he’d agreed to go along with the engagement. He’d naively thought that the perfect antidote to Pippa was engagement to Faridah.

When he hoped that she’d calmed down, and used up all that aggressive energy, which he’d actually found to be a turn-on, Jumal knocked at the bedroom door before popping his head tentatively around the partially opened door.

“Is it safe yet?” he checked, pushing the door open wide. “My ears are still bleeding from that expletive tirade, Miss Darling. Even I hadn’t heard of half those words.”

Pip brought her head up slowly from the pillows, sitting back on her elbows, but couldn’t stop her lips curving into a smile. Jumal was wearing a spare polo helmet and face guard and holding a pillow up in front of his chest as his shield while brandishing a wooden spoon.

He slowly walked over to her and sat down at her side. “My parents have left. Peace offering,” he said, placing a tube of Smarties in her hand and taking off the helmet.

She smiled and opened the tube, poured out a handful and popped them into her mouth. “What, you keeping these on your person at all times now just in case I go all nuts again?” she joked. “You know,” she muttered, munching away happily, “Someone should tell them just to make tubes of the orange ones. They’re the best by far,” she told him, placing her hands in her lap. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you in front of your parents and I’m sorry about lecturing you about your dad. I’m in no position to lecture you. Can we just go home, Jumal?” she begged after a few moments.

Home. Oh yeah, that sounded like a great plan.

“There is nothing to apologise for, Pippa. We’ll go home first thing tomorrow,” he agreed, holding an open palm towards her. “And just to be absolutely clear, I’m not embarrassed to be with you, Pippa. I just assumed you’d want to keep what was going on with us under the radar. People knowing about us could put us both in a difficult position—professionally and with your family,” he explained.

She sighed heavily. “Okay,” she conceded, pouring a few Smarties into his hand. “Fancy an early night?” she suggested, wiggling her eyebrows as he tossed the sweets into his mouth.

He even loved sparring with her; it energised him. He smiled as he cast his mind back a few days to when they were both in the bathroom at his apartment using the double basins to brush their teeth before bed…complete domesticity and God bless the ever unreliable plumber who had failed to show up.

Jumal had mumbled around his toothbrush, “So are you planning on letting me have any room in bed tonight?”

“Huh?” was the unladylike response from Pippa.

“You sleep like a starfish.”

She’d spat out her final rinse just as he was hitting back the mouthwash.

“I what!?” she’d shrieked, offended. “Well…well, you snore!” she’d lied,