Alessa tried not to feel that was a description of her. As usual on a Saturday, the Lanes were dotted with loved-up couples shopping, more so this near to Christmas. She jumped when Hugo tapped her arm, indicating she should slot it through the crook of his. Oh, Right. Yes, the gentlemanly thing to do. She couldn’t help wondering if he’d ever gone on an Ubermensch date, even acted as a rented gentleman, perhaps out of curiosity, or when they were short-staffed? Where did they even find such paragons as the website promised? Which reminded her. She had a duty to ask questions.
“So, Mill Island? And I’ve paid in advance for the intel,” she reminded Hugo.
“Tell you later. When you stop for a hot chocolate with marshmallows.” He shuddered. “Exercise first.”
“Should have thought you’d got enough of that last night,” Alessa muttered, but allowed him to lead her through the December breeze and the chilled breath of a tiny flurry of snow to the town hall and its outdoor winter ice skating rink.
Chapter Six
“Harley’s is sponsoring this again? As usual?” Hugo indicated the Christmas Arcade, the pop-up rinkside kiosks filled with festive gifts from the departments of the local store who funded the event. They said the old-fashioned store was modernising, and the hospitality space now boasted a self-service tent offering what looked like a selection from their delicatessen department, in addition to the usual waitress-service marquee.
If he and Alessa remained in the town centre long enough, they could sample the smoked salmon and blinis with chilled vodka, or the fondue and mulled wine, depending on her tastes. The latter fitted the winter weather better, he supposed.
Alessa, long coat removed for safety, bent over to check her hired skates, and Hugo shifted. He hadn’t realised, when he’d met and held her yesterday, or when he’d seen her in the hotel bar in that stunning dress, just how pert her arse was. That understanding had come the second he’d had her over his knee, her lovely dress hiked up, revealing those oh-so-grabbable cheeks in their tight, high glory. When Alessa smoothed her too-large sweater down, Hugo wanted to moan. The little minx had to be doing it on purpose! But when she’d teased him yesterday, the light of challenge had shone in her eyes and she’d made sure he knew what she was about. No—Alessandra Marks was naturally sexy, in blue jeans and a knitted sweater, in a designer evening dress, in stockings and high-heeled shoes, or in nothing at all. Hugo hoped his erection wasn’t that noticeable and that he could still move.
“Come on!” Alessa ventured forth onto the fenced-off rectangle of ice in the centre of the town hall square. It looked festive, in the midst of the heavy civic buildings, and would look more so later in the evening when the lamps strung around the kiosks and standing at the corners of the rink were lit. It even sounded good, a uniformed brass band tuning up their instruments and a row of costumed carol singers warming up their voices. Yes, the winter scene was pretty.
And Alessa was beautiful, her long blonde flying, her sapphire-blue eyes alight and her cheeks turning pink with the chill. Her just that little bit irregular front teeth were oh-so-slightly visible when her full lips parted, and it was the sexiest sight he’d ever seen. She whooshed along, all speed and no technique, and he would have caught her easily, except someone crossed his path and he had to slow and stop.
“Veronica, hello.” He’d dated the platinum blonde a couple of times, back in the spring. The thirty-year-old was pretty, making the most of what she had with subtle enhancements. But she hadn’t hidden the fact that, now out of her twenties, she was looking for a meal ticket—the golden ticket, Piers had commented—and that she’d get started on the requisite two-point-however-many children as soon as said ticket holder wanted to anchor that, sooner rather than later.
He hadn’t been looking for that, but the deal-breaker for him hadn’t been her huddling in his car with the heating turned up full-blast during Sunday football, but that she didn’t share his tastes in the bedroom. He’d been down that route before, having a partner go along with his preferences not because they came naturally to her, but for reasons of her own, and he would not do it again.
He’d just about extricated himself when raised voices make him look over to one end of the rink—and his heart thudded. Alessa was being attacked! Okay, maybe attacked is too strong a word for it, he reasoned, calming himself as he raced over. But not by much. And by a man twice her size. The fucking coward!
“Me dare to show my face here?” Alessa stepped closer to the red-cheeked man. “You’ve got that arseways, for a start. You’re the one who was banned from the premises—the council building, that is, when you were kicked out for taking bribes to push through a planning application!” She’d raised her voice as her sentence went on.
Hugo reached her and went to move in front of her. Her hand on his arm stopped him, although he remained ready to spring.
“I’m sure you all remember former Councillor McDougal, everyone? And know about the criminal case pending against him? If not, please read about it in the Herald!” Alessa continued to the gathering crowd, who muttered and pointed.
“You think you’re so clever, girlie—”
“No,” Alessa cut the posturing McDougal off. “I think you’re so stupid. Firstly, if you try and ban reporters from attending council meetings, they’ll automatically think you’ve got something to hide. So they’ll start looking into you, and find you approved a planning application for land designated for countryside—when your predecessor turned down the exact same request a year previously. And also find that the developer is a buddy who gave you a down payment and promised more when his multi-million-pound sale of the land went through. It’s not rocket science, idiot.”
“The fucking Herald.” The man spat on the floor. “Today’s paper, tomorrow’s chip wrappers.”
“Jesus, how out of touch are you? Chips aren’t wrapped in newspaper anymore!” Alessa threw up her hands.
The crowd jeered, calling the man some choice names.
“You government parasites, paid a fortune and you’re always on the take. Sod off out of here, while you can,” advised a man, pointing at the ex-councillor.
McDougal, still lambasting journalists in general and the local paper in particular, moved to go. Alessa was tense and shaking at his side, and Hugo couldn’t stay still a second longer.
“Hey, McDougal.” The slime turned, and Hugo was there, right in his face. “Don’t come near Alessandra Marks again.”
The man, shrinking back and swallowing, made a last stand. “Or…”
Hugo simply stood there, letting his height and breadth and the cold darkness in his unblinking eyes convey his intent for him. “Just don’t.” He stared the man out and remained where he was, even when McDougal turned and slinked away.
“Good riddance!” called someone, and a few people cheered.
Hugo hurried back to Alessa. “All right?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Not really. But I will be. I have to be.”
“I’m guessing that’s why you were nominated for Weekly Reporter of the Year last year?”
“Yup. I’m not an investigative journalist, and I guess I should have handed it on when I saw what it was. Those investigative guys are tougher than I am, plus I was kind of poaching in their preserves.” She shrugged.
“Let’s go.” The crowd’s murmurs and calls were sympathetic, but Alessa didn’t want their attention. He helped her sit and unlace the ice skates, taking off his own too, handed them to the attendant and retrieved their coats. She didn’t say anything until they’d walked away, back to the Old Town, her arm tight through his.
“I’m sorry. I know you wanted to skate.”
He tipped her face up to meet his gaze. “Skating’s overrated. Let’s go swimming instead.”
“What?” She searched his eyes. “Really? Where?”
“I know a place.”
“I don’t exactly have my beach stuff with me. Plus Montford’s pretty far from the coast. Oh, and it’s win
ter.” She sniggered.
“One moment.”
She gave a little squeal as he undid her coat to squint at her figure for a second.
“Okay. Wait there.” He pushed through the door of the boutique they stood outside. As he selected an item and took it to the counter, he could see her staring in the window, her forehead creased. He was back by her side in a minute, tasteful boutique bag in his hand, to take her back to their cars. “Follow me?” he asked her in the car park.
“Maybe…” Alessa’s wicked grin said he was in for it. “What’s it worth?”
“Anything.”
“Really? Like, me driving the Merc and you taking Purple Reggie?”
“Purple…” He shuddered. “Let me get this straight. You want to swop vehicles. Exchange your Purple Reggie for my Silver Lady?”
Alessa was doubled over laughing now, her tension and fear gone. “Ye-sss!” she gasped.
“You don’t think I’ll do it, do you?”
“Well…” She jumped up to catch the key fob he tossed her, her eyes wide.
He held out his hand for her keys. “If you have keys, of course, and don’t just kick it to start?” he called after her as she rushed to take possession of his Mercedes. “One thing before you get comfortable—give me a push? What? I’m assuming I’ll need it.”
He did need to adjust practically the whole interior to fit, but he managed, just as he managed to get the engine to turn over. Eventually. By which time, Alessa was chomping at the bit in the street.
“I hope I don’t see anyone I know!” he shouted, passing her.
It wasn’t far out into the county, and through the ribbon development of Blazeby village to turn off down the track to the old farmhouse he lived in. He pulled up to one side of the house and got out, stretching and cracking his bones. “I attached a brick on a rope, for brakes,” he teased Alessa, who was reluctant to hand him his car keys back.
“That’s one smooth ride,” she admitted. “And this…isn’t a beach. Or a swimming pool.” She stared at the two-storey foursquare grey building.
“Yes, it is.” Hugo hefted their bags and guided her to the wooden five-bar gate to the right. “Well. This bit is.”
He watched her take in the once barn and abandoned conservatory, now pool and gym, wondering what she thought of it all. The village, the house…him—
“Aha! So, that’s how you keep in such fantastic shape!”
He had to grin. She constantly surprised and challenged him.
“So, you’re a Blazeby Billionaire. That’s what they call the people who live here, isn’t it?”
“Far from it, I assure you.” He unlocked the door to the changing room. “This place is falling to bits. I’m rebuilding a little at a time. It’s an old family property.”
“Ah.” Her nod rumpled her hair further and he wanted to run his fingers through her blonde tresses. “I know what that’s like. I have some. You drove it! Purple Reggie was my mother’s first, then my sister’s and now mine!”
“Well, this is all yours.” Hugo handed her the pale-puce bag from Pink Magnolia, holding the top closed when she went to peek. “In there. There should be towels.”
He watched her walk into the small wooden enclosure. The pool could be accessed directly via the back of the house, but this way, from the small courtyard, meant they wouldn’t have to walk the length of the pool in their street clothes…and Alessa would have the best first view of the pool. His changing stall was next to hers and he heard the rustle of the bag he’d given her and her exclamation as she took out the contents. The pause that followed was nerve-racking, and he held his breath until more rustling signified her stripping—God, he would think of that, wouldn’t he?—and changing.
He was waiting when the wooden half-door swung open.
“I’m paying you for this.” Alessa indicated what was under the towel. “I needed a new swimming costume anyway. I still use my high school uniform one. It has all my diving badges sewn on.”
And that image, perhaps designed to deflate him, didn’t. “Let me see,” he husked. He’d see anyway when she swam, but he needed—
The costume was a vivid blue one-piece, cut high on the legs, and in a halter-style, its deep décolletage ending in a white zip that extended to her navel.
“I feel like a Bond Girl, with this thing.” Alessa fingered the zip’s white slider resting beneath the swells of her breasts. “What’s it even for anyway?”
“Do you really want me to show you the answer to that?”
She grinned then looked around. “How come it’s so warm? I’m guessing you don’t leave the heating and lights on round the clock.”
“I called ahead.”
“To the butler?”
“No. To access the smart heating and electricity system via my phone. Smart tech has made butlers redundant.”
“I’ll do a piece on it.”
Alessa’s voice came absently as she explored the trailing plants, steps, columns and tiles. Hugo crossed to start some music playing. His throat dried when he saw Alessa standing under the shower in the arch. Within a minute she was wet, her hair sleeked back and her swimsuit clinging to her. He didn’t recall walking to her but found himself before her, and she pulled him under the water, her gaze following the streams running down his tanned body, their journey breaking over his nipples.
“This is lovely,” she commented. She sat on the side of the pool and hopped in. She twisted her hair into a tail and secured it to the top of her head with an elastic, and at the sight of her, arms raised, her breasts jutting proud, Hugo deemed it wise to dive in, the water providing a cover of sorts. His raised eyebrow challenged her to a race and he showed off, overtaking her in a flashy front crawl. It became a chase, which became a pushing and ducking and slipping free and gambolling between the other’s legs and Hugo couldn’t take any more.
He crowded her against the side for kisses and caresses he needed to bestow, having to grip hard against the slide of the water on Alessa’s now sleek skin. The room was a lot quieter, none of the splashing or shrieks and cries that minutes earlier had bounced and echoed off the glass walls and glass ceiling. Just a slow, soft kissing, as malleable as the water bearing their weight.
Water that was strong enough for Alessa to float on to hook her legs around his waist and wrap her arms around his neck, and for Hugo to tread as he hugged her tight to him. The kisses were soft and slow, like drinking an expensive liqueur, with Alessa the perfect mix of sweetness and strength, leaving him heady. She pressed the vee of her legs against his hardness, perhaps seeking relief, and looked puzzled when he pushed her a little higher up his body. He reached out a hand and tugged the bow at her nape undone, letting the top of her costume fall free.
Now, he could lavish attention on her breasts. He hadn’t been able to, so far. His hands were occupied, squeezing her cheeks as he supported her. And no soft caresses—his firm touch had her writhing against him, just as his mouth at her breast had her gasping and pressing deeper for him to tongue her nipple into a hard, tight nub. He’d hardly shaved that morning and his whiskers must have been scraping her silken skin. Not that Alessa seemed to object, instead pushing harder, forcing him to take more of her into his mouth.
He adored how quickly he turned her soft velvet bud into a furled ridge, reshaping it with first the flat then the tip of his tongue. When he nipped, tugging the nipple away from her areola, she moaned, and when he sucked, laving with his tongue at the same time, she raked her nails down the nape of his neck. He pulled his mouth free. Reluctantly.
“We’d better get out.” He helped her from the water and dried her, leaving the top of her swimsuit dangling. He wouldn’t hide those luscious breasts away. He pulled on a towelling robe. “Come up here. I’ve got something to show you.”
Their wet footprints left a side-by-side trail to the cushioned ledge situated up a short and shallow flight of marble steps. “Go and look,” he told her. “One thing…” He unzipped her cos
tume, as he’d been longing to ever since he’d seen her in it, leaving her naked, loving the flush to her skin he’d created by rubbing her dry. Her only adornment was the heart-shaped design on her mons, its apex pointing down, he realized, to her clit. Not that he needed directions. He turned her around to walk up the few steps to the nook set into the huge glass window, barely resisting reaching for her firm arse.
She paused. “But what if someone sees?”
“There’re no neighbours out that way, no one to see.” He firmed his voice. “And…if there were? The chance of someone watching?” Not that he’d ever let anyone see her like that, but she didn’t have to know. “Go on.”
She put her foot onto the first step and up to the space that was part sunbathing area, complete with lounger, for when there was sun, and one of his reading nooks, when he had time to relax. The room was warm, with the heating, and the alcove’s padded surface inviting. Following close behind her, he spread towels on its cushioned lounger.
“Oh, look at that view.” Alessa kneeled close to the glass, tilting her head to see beyond the meadow down to the brook. He was. And enjoying it too, taking her hands to lay her palms flat against the window. He nudged her legs farther apart and leaned into her, pressing her body against the cooler glass, dragging a hiss of reaction from her. He let her adjust for a few minutes, and when he touched her between her legs, she was as wet as he’d hoped, aroused by her submissive position, or her nakedness or vulnerability. He didn’t let her sink down onto her heels but kept her back straight, which pressed her breasts flat to the glass.
Hugo kept his hand still against her folds, and it was Alessa who moved, rubbing against his fingers where he held them between her spread legs. “I love how wet you get for me,” he breathed into her ear, watching her skin pebble into goosebumps. “It’s like honey.” He ignored her protest when he withdrew his hand, nudging her to make sure she watched his reflection in the glass, tasting her essence from his finger. He replaced his hand and Alessa shifted. Hugo allowed her to suck him in, just an inch.
Winter Sparks Page 6