Midsummer Man

by Zelah Roberts

  “Tea?”

  “Mmm. Not scalding, but…hot. I’d take a mouthful and kiss your breasts…or maybe even other places… Would you like that, to feel the heat wash over you there? Would you squirm against my mouth? Moan for more? Then an ice cube straight afterwards…”

  He swallowed, forcing back his arousal. Much more of this and he’d be disgracing himself. What the hell had got into him?

  “Would you?”

  “What?”

  “Would you moan for more, if I did that to you?”

  “If you—” A sudden, unbelievably erotic vision of her on her knees, taking him into her mouth, swirling hot tea or ice—or her tongue or any damn thing—around him made his heart seize.

  He exhaled a ragged breath. “Yes,” he said, unsurprised to find his voice coming out an octave deeper than usual, “I would moan and beg. Or more likely die of a heart attack on the spot.” He shook his head. He had to pull back from this. “Sweetheart, I don’t know if I’m going to survive you. You should come with a warning sign… Danger, too hot to handle!”

  She laughed, blushing. He picked up her hand and kissed it.

  She looked momentarily astonished. He closed his eyes. Dangerous was understating it. For this woman truly had no idea how exceptional, how utterly, impossibly sexy she was. And that lack of awareness made her even sexier. She was such a powerfully potent mix of naughty and naive…

  He drew in a deep breath. “We should change the subject,” he said, “before my body starts screaming for mercy.”

  It was already, but he wasn’t about to tell her that.

  She gave a sexy little wiggle that told him more than she knew about her own state of arousal. “Okay,” she said, “what shall we talk about?”

  A walk. He needed a walk…or something. What he didn’t need was to be sitting here, talking to her like this anymore. There was too much temptation to tell her all the outrageous ideas in his mind. He’d barely skimmed the surface and that wouldn’t do. He couldn’t have this woman. One night, they’d agreed. He supressed a groan.

  He was torturing himself.

  “Fancy a stroll?” he said, abruptly.

  She did. They finished their drinks, and he paid the bill, leaving a hefty tip, which made the young waitress serving them look as if her birthday had come early, then headed for the path that edged the Thames.

  Tree-lined and tranquil, it followed the meandering course of the river. Across the water, in the distance, rows of Edwardian houses faded off to the horizon like an old watercolour painting, whilst beyond, the ghostly outlines of the Shard and the Gherkin shimmered hazy and pale against a duck-egg-blue sky.

  Unable to resist, he took her hand as they walked along, quietly enjoying the view. The soft lapping of the water and the joyful sound of birdsong made him feel momentarily comforted.

  But only momentarily. Now that Holly had regained some of her equilibrium, he knew he had the negotiating challenge of his life in his hands.

  He reflected thoughtfully on what he knew of her. Successful. Independent. Sexy. But what had she said last night? ‘I don’t like being trapped…or pushed into things.’

  In the cold light of day, with what he now knew of her previous lover, that statement took on an unpleasant resonance. Her ex-partner had been rough with her in bed, he knew. Had he also pushed her into other things she didn’t want to do? Maybe one of the reasons she didn’t want to get involved with anyone was because she was afraid that they would try to control her, dominate her.

  Although he wouldn’t fancy anyone’s chances if they tried it these days… The woman was a tiger, no doubt about it. Underneath the pretty, respectable exterior beat the heart of an altogether fiercer creature.

  He really loved that about her, loved that she had let him see her secret self.

  But that wasn’t the point. He dragged his thoughts away from his technicolour memories of the night before and cautioned himself to think clearly. He needed to get this right. There was no way, no way in hell, he was going to let her run around London—or anywhere else—unprotected whilst some maniac threatened her. But if he said so, if she felt pushed around by him, he was sure that she would tell him where to go in no uncertain terms.

  Moreover, he needed to persuade her to come with him for Leonie’s sake. His gut clenched. He had to be home by tonight, with Holly at his side. How the hell was he going to do it? He sighed. There had to be a way.

  Holly, who had been walking beside him wondering what on earth she was doing, glanced at him, curiously. She couldn’t quite believe that having received a dead rat in the post, she had calmly come out for lunch with Mac and indulged in the kind of explicit sexual flirtatiousness she’d believed only belonged in red-hot romances. Am I out of my mind? She couldn’t get involved with him. She couldn’t. No way. She was already in too deep.

  Because this wasn’t just physical attraction. She really, really liked the guy.

  Damn it.

  But he looked as troubled as she felt, and she had a pang of concern. “Mac…is everything okay?”

  A shadow crossed his face, and she knew with a sudden certainty that it wasn’t. She stopped and pulled him round to face her.

  Gone was the man who had flirted with her earlier. In his place was someone else—a man with darkness in his eyes.

  Was he concerned about the same things she was? “Mac,” she said gently, “we were talking hypothetically about what we’d do in another time, another world. You don’t need to worry. You know I don’t want a relationship and I know you don’t. We were just…daydreaming, if you like. You’ve no need to look so worried.”

  His eyes widened. He looked considerably taken aback. Then he reached out and stroked a tender hand across her cheek.

  “It’s not that,” he said, quietly. “I know you’re not looking for involvement, that you only wanted one night. I know we were only…wishing.”

  “What is it, then?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. A muscle in his clenched jaw pulsed. She watched it throb, wondering what was making him so tense.

  “I need to ask you a question. But you’re not going to like it and I’m afraid of your answer.”

  Her mouth dropped open.

  His gaze lowered. “I’ve been walking along trying to work out how to persuade you…how to re-negotiate with you, as if you were some damn business acquaintance. But you’re not. You don’t need my money, and you don’t care about my power. I’ve got nothing to negotiate with. Nothing.” He raised his eyes to hers and the raw vulnerability in their depths shook her.

  He wrapped his arms around himself. She didn’t think he was even aware of it. Something was hurting him badly.

  He wheeled away from her to look out over the river at the ghostly outline of the city in the distance. His body was so tense that it almost vibrated with pain. She found she hated it…hated seeing him like this.

  He stared bleakly out across the water. She took his hand and squeezed it. “Tell me, Mac,” she said.

  “Yes,” he said, forcing the word out. “All right.”

  Silence. She looked out at the view, knowing he was trying to compose himself, sensing that he hated her seeing him like this. Weak. Exposed. She caught her breath. He was only displaying the same emotions that anyone else might feel, but she realised that he was such an alpha male that she had imagined him somehow immune to them, a caricature of a man rather than the real thing. Now she had to acknowledge that it wasn’t so, that he was an ordinary person with feelings as well as power—someone who could be hurt.

  It was a sobering thought.

  In a voice rigid with strain, he said “I need to ask for your help with Leonie, my sister.”

  She didn’t know what she had been expecting him to say, but it wasn’t that. “Your sister?” she asked, cautiously. “How could I help her?”

  “I told you my parents died when I was younger…”

  “Yes.”

  “Leonie was thirteen when it happe
ned. A car crash. I was nineteen. We didn’t have any other family, so I became her guardian. Since then, I’ve tried to be father and brother…whatever she needed me to be.”

  Holly looked at him thoughtfully. Responsibility, he’d said, was what he had now in life—and the job he did provided his family with security. No wonder that was so important to him, given the difficulties of his early years. Nineteen was very young to take on parental responsibility for someone, especially a young girl on the cusp of womanhood, who must have been devastated at the loss of her parents. And not only that, but he’d also abandoned his dreams of studying literature to do so, had instead successfully taken over a business and qualified as an architect. It was a huge feat.

  Holly grimaced, appreciating just how tough it must have been. “It must have been difficult, but she was lucky to have you. How old is she now?”

  “Twenty-four.”

  She nodded. “You’re still close?” She assumed they must be, for him to pay two million pounds to get her name into one of her books.

  “We love each other.”

  There was something odd about that answer, as if he were evading the exact truth.

  “Does she still live with you?”

  “Yeah.” He paused, as if gathering himself. “She didn’t, until recently. She was at university here in London, doing a research degree. She was really happy. Really… But then…she… She was kidnapped.”

  “Oh, no!”

  Shocked, she reached out and grabbed his hand. She couldn’t bear to see him suffering so badly without the comfort of at least a touch.

  He squeezed her fingers, held onto her grip as if it were a lifeline. “It took us three weeks to get her back. A lifetime. Eventually, we found her, and the kidnappers were apprehended. She came home to me…but she’s a different girl. She won’t go far from the house at all. I couldn’t even get her to come to London with me for the ball. Then last night…” He stopped, squaring his shoulders. “Last night, whilst I was busy escaping and forgetting and enjoying myself, whilst I was dancing and…and…stealing time, she tried to kill herself.”

  “No. Oh, Mac…”

  His shoulders slumped. “I knew I shouldn’t have left her. I should never have risked it.”

  He looked at her, and the tortured expression in his eyes horrified her.

  “Since the kidnapping happened, she’s just buried herself in the Wayfarer books for hours on end. She’s using them to escape, I think.”

  “Yes…”

  “Then she saw a news item on the Internet about your auction. I thought, if I could win it for her, it might cheer her up a bit, so I came to London—only for one night. I just needed to get away. I let her down. She can’t escape, but I tried to. I was wrong.”

  The guilt was plain in his voice and she couldn’t bear it. She pulled him into her arms and held on tight. “Mac, no,” she said. “You love your sister, but you can’t make her decisions for her. If she tried to kill herself, even if anything had happened to her, it wouldn’t have been your fault. She’s a grown woman. She has the responsibility over her decision to live or die…not you.”

  He bowed his head. “I hear you.”

  But he didn’t believe her, Holly realised. Responsibility, he’d said, but she had a feeling she’d only just skimmed the surface of what that meant for him. It was clear that he felt responsible for his sister’s welfare, maybe even her life.

  “Mac, what did you want to ask me?”

  He looked up at her with a desperation he couldn’t hide. “This morning, I woke up and you weren’t there. I so wished you had been, but I understood. All we could do was offer each other a brief reprieve from reality. Then my housekeeper called and told me what Leonie had tried to do and I realised that everything I have, everything I am, is not enough to help in this situation, not enough to make her want to live. And I tried to think of something—anything—that might give her the will to survive. And there was only one thing I could think of. Only one thing in the world.”

  “What was it?”

  He looked at her steadily and took a deep breath. “Holly…it was you.”

  Chapter Four

  “Me!” Her voice came out as an embarrassingly high-pitched squeak. “What do I have to do with any of this?”

  There was a long pause. Mac appeared to be thinking over what he’d just said.

  Then he looked at her sombrely. “Not a damn thing, and I shouldn’t be doing this. Shouldn’t be putting this on you, dragging you into it. It’s not fair.” He slumped. “Forget I said anything, Holly. I just realised what I was asking you and it’s too much.” He turned to look at her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you any of this. You have enough trouble as it is.”

  Holly looked at him in exasperation. “Mac, I still don’t understand what it is you are asking.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Yes, it does. If there’s something I can do to help your sister, I want to know what it is. You think I could turn my back on her? What kind of person do you think I am?”

  “I—”

  “Damn it, Mac, tell me!”

  He took a deep breath then blurted it out. “Leonie… It has always been her ambition, ever since she was a little girl, to be a writer. She’s always written stories, but she lacks the confidence to pursue writing as a career. You are her favourite author, the one she most admires by far…and I thought if I could get her into her writing again, give her some belief in herself, give her some ambition and hope, that it might just bring her back.”

  “You want me to encourage her to write?”

  He gave her a sad smile. “Amazing what mad plans desperation can produce. Basically, yes. I thought we could say you’d come to meet her before putting her in your book, which would be true. But I hoped she might be persuaded to show you some of her stories…and you could encourage her. That might be enough. I know it’s a long shot, but—”

  “But it’s the only shot you’ve got.”

  He was right. It was a long shot. But given the absence of any alternatives, it might be worth a try.

  But then there was work, and the pressure of it was no small thing. The television series was in the can and the next one wasn’t due to start until the autumn, but there was still the deadline for the next book to consider. “I know this sounds crass, but I’ve got writing deadlines…”

  “That’s no problem. You can work there.”

  She looked at him, seriously. “If I do this…nothing changes. I still can’t…”

  He reached out and pulled her into his arms. “I can’t either,” he said. “But friends… Perhaps we can be that. What do you think?”

  She pressed against him and her heart rate quickened at the familiar musky scent and muscular feel of him. It would be difficult to be friends, to be around him and not give in to her desire. The man was a walking temptation. But it would be worse never to see him again. Besides, she only had a handful of friends, and none of them were male. This would be a whole new adventure. She smiled.

  “Friends,” she said huskily. “Your negotiating skills weren’t so bad after all. You did have something to offer. It’s a deal.”

  * * * *

  He was like a force of nature, she thought later—unstoppable. No sooner had she agreed to go than he was arranging everything. Within five minutes it had been agreed that they should leave for his home at five, his team of cleaners had been tasked with scouring her kitchen and security had been engaged to keep an eye on her house and check any post for unexpected nasties.

  That he had security on speed dial was disturbing. When she commented on it, he explained. “When Leonie was kidnapped, I employed a specialist firm, Liberty, to work with the police to find her. They’re very exclusive, very private and very discreet. They do all types of security and personal protection work.”

  He looked away from her and clenched his jaw. “I became worried that the police were more focused on catching the kidnappers than on keeping Leon
ie safe, so I brought them in. The police weren’t pleased at first. But…Liberty managed to find Leonie and steal her back. Then the police went in and arrested the kidnappers.” He smiled faintly. “The police were happy. They got their culprits and all the glory for the arrests. Liberty was happy. They don’t want publicity. They don’t want any would-be kidnappers knowing of their existence.”

  “The security firm managed to find her?”

  “Yes. Thank goodness. Anyway, the lead on the case, James, brought her home, and he’s been staying with us on and off ever since. His presence seems to reassure Leonie, and he seems to understand what to say to help her. She won’t speak to a psychiatrist or anyone else about what she went through, but occasionally, she tells James things.”

  “Not you?”

  A look of pained regret flickered across his face. “No, not me. I think she’s ashamed. She has nothing to be ashamed of, but James says it’s normal for people who have been caught and trapped to feel like that.”

  Holly was profoundly glad he was looking at his phone as he spoke. She felt his words like a punch in the gut and a faint sweat sprang out on her brow. She hadn’t thought of Leonie’s experiences in those terms. She thrust her hands into her pockets to hide her clenched fists.

  He glanced up, absently. “Anyway, I’ve learned from my mistakes. I’ve always taken some precautions. When you have money, I think you have to. But I’m working with Liberty to put things in place to make sure nothing like this can happen again.”

  “I see.”

  “Besides, having some security around seems to reassure Leonie. And on the plus side, it’ll mean you’re protected whilst Jenna goes after your creep.”

  “Ah…yes, I suppose it will.”

  “Right. I’ve sent a text to Jenna to let her know where you’ll be. Shall we get a taxi back to yours for you to pick up your stuff?”

  * * * *

  At five o’clock they emerged from a taxi into a busy central London street. Before them was one of the most magnificent modern buildings Holly had ever seen. The spectacular glass-and-steel creation was stunning. It was shaped amazingly like a candy twist, and the sunlight glinted and sparkled off it in all directions.