All for Love - 3 Series Starters

by Kris Pearson

  It had been bad enough driving her around the town. Worse sitting at the cafe, watching her across the table, seeing the breeze flirting with her hair where his fingertips itched to wander. Worse again every time her serious big green eyes flicked up to his as they talked. He’d been half-hard for most of the day.

  She was cool and classy; no femme fatale. There was nothing he could interpret as flirty encouragement or sexy suggestion. Even when he’d teased her about the panties she’d responded with annoyance rather than mirth. She was a total enigma. A challenge and a temptation. And his to keep watch over until Sunday.

  ~♥~

  Kate turned to Diana as she laid down her knife and fork. “Can I be any help with the party?

  “Another nice salad like this one? Everyone’s bringing something, rather than getting caterers in. I’m hoping that’ll get around the birthday present problem.”

  “I’ll be lucky to get off scot-free there,” Hamish muttered.

  Diana touched his arm and sent him a fond smile. “You must let them have their little jokes if they want to. I happen to know Joanie and Len have been working away at something on your behalf.”

  Hamish rolled his eyes, and Kate laughed. It felt good to be part of easy family banter like this. She’d missed it since her parents had divorced. Being in the company of just one of them hadn’t been the same. And trying to relax with any of her father’s new ‘friends’ was excruciating.

  “Time for dessert?” Diana asked, stacking Hamish’s plate and cutlery onto hers, and rising. Kate sprang up too, and reached for Matthew’s. The two women walked out to the kitchen together, leaving the brothers alone. Kate made one more trip to the dining room to gather the curry casserole, the rice dish and the smaller bowls onto a tray while Diana retrieved her Banoffie Pie from the refrigerator.

  “This is so full of calories,” Diana said with a guilty smile. “I don’t make it often, but for his birthday...?” She attempted to stand a candle in the centre of it. “Mmm—might have to do that at the table,” she decided as it leaned drunkenly over.

  “Shall we light it out here and I’ll carry it?” Kate offered. Together they managed to get pie and candle to the table. As soon as they appeared, Matthew began to whistle ‘happy birthday to you’ with surprising sweetness.

  Wedges of pie and dark smoky coffee completed the meal. Diana stacked the dishwasher. Conversation became desultory, and finally Matthew rose. “Port in the spa, everyone?” he asked, threading his long fingers around the stems of four glasses set ready on the sideboard, and taking the bottle by its neck. Kate tagged along uncertainly, wondering if she could escape now.

  But Diana ushered her into the changing room, inviting her to choose from the half-dozen swimsuits kept there for the use of guests. Kate slid into the plainest and most concealing she could find, bundled up all of her hair on top of her head, then followed Diana next door. Relief washed over her once she saw the pool was huge.

  Matthew stood fully clothed by the big folding glass doors forming two walls of the room. His eyes caressed her, burning down the length of her legs, blatantly appreciating the curves of her breasts and hips. He unsnapped the door-locks and slid the misted panels aside. Frosty air and moonlight poured in, as magical as any film set. Lord of the Rings mountains shimmered, crystal clear, impossibly close.

  Diana submersed herself in the warm bubbling water with an exclamation of pleasure, and Kate followed rapidly to escape Matthews’s hungry eyes.

  She sat mesmerised as he slowly pulled his shirt free from his trousers. Long fingers slid the buttons through their holes. With a shrug, he shimmied the shirt down his arms, baring his body for her, still holding her eyes with his own.

  Kate would not have noticed if someone had punched her in the stomach. She’d stopped breathing. She’d stopped thinking. She’d started wanting, mindlessly.

  Her hands longed to smooth and stroke his powerful shoulders and arms. Her lips and tongue needed to lick and slide over his hard chest and lean torso.

  His fingers located the catch on his trousers, and the dark fabric slipped a little down his hips. This granted her the briefest glimpse of an intricate band of tattooing circling his waistline before he stepped away and disappeared into the changing room.

  Chapter Seven — Touching His Tattoo

  Nothing had prepared her for this. She’d arrived in Queenstown hoping for a job. She might still be successful in her quest. She was coming to terms with her possible new boss being famous... the house being so large and beautifully appointed.

  She had managed—just—to cope with Matthew for the day. Had resisted his potent charm, fielded his intrusive questions, not quite fallen apart when he stood too close, arrogantly playing with her hair, caressing her ear.

  But his taunting little strip-tease was her undoing. His hard flesh was lean and streamlined. It was the body of a fully mature man, with no boyish softness, no unwanted fat, no hint of city slackness. The combination of his vineyard labours, high-country photographic hikes, and the professional gym next to the spa room had made him tough and toned, sinewy and sexy. She might have imagined him as gorgeous as this, but now she knew.

  And so far she’d seen only half of him.

  Desperately she turned to Diana as a distraction.

  “Matthew says I’ll need a proper party dress for Saturday. Is he teasing me again?” she asked in a voice that was less than steady.

  Diana smiled. “For once he’s not teasing. We thought we’d give everyone the chance to really dress up—quite fun in mid-winter.”

  Kate nodded, trying to think of anything else to say. “He was most extravagant buying me clothes today, and now he wants to pay for this dress as well. It’s embarrassing.”

  “He wouldn’t know the meaning of the word.”

  She thought of the lingerie selection and silently agreed.

  “He’s probably quite enjoying spoiling you. Lottie’s no fun to buy for. She practically lives in his old shirts—well-daubed with paint.”

  Kate smiled. She could picture that. “All the same, it doesn’t feel right...”

  “He does exactly as he wants, Kate—you’ll have a job stopping him. This one’s bad enough,” she added as Hamish padded in from the changing room.

  “Who’s bad enough?” he asked, giving Diana’s short blond curls an affectionate ruffle as he stepped into the pool.

  “You are, birthday boy, but your brother’s even worse.”

  “Matthew? Total shocker. What’s he done now?”

  “He wants to buy me a party dress,” Kate murmured.

  “Hit him up for shoes as well,” Hamish said, grinning, and lowering himself into the water. “Ahhhh... much better. What on earth does he want the doors open for? It’s cold as sin out there.”

  “Philistine,” Matthew said, surprising everyone. Kate dared not raise her eyes to look at him. “Appreciate the contrast... cold air and hot water. Moonlight on the mountains. The noises of the night.”

  Somewhere in the distance, a car backfired and they all collapsed laughing. It broke the ice, and she was able to relax and accept the glass of port he handed her.

  She was slightly miffed to find there was absolutely no more of him on display. A little less, indeed—there was no glimpse of the tantalizing tattoo. He now wore blue elastic-waisted board shorts that reached below the side of the pool. From Kate’s low vantage point, she couldn’t see his legs at all.

  He switched off the wall lamps, and by the time her eyes had accustomed themselves to the moonlight, he was in the water with them. He raised his glass in a toast.

  “To Hamish—happy fortieth. To Kate—happy thirtieth.”

  “How on earth did you know?” she asked, dismayed.

  “How do you think?” He half closed his eyes and smiled, leaving her floundering. After a few seconds, he took pity on her. “Lottie gave me your CV this morning. Date of birth, swimming medals, business degree. Easy as that.”

  “Happy b
irthday to you both then,” Diana chuckled.

  Kate and Hamish raised their glasses in each other’s direction. The port was coal-black in the moonlight—rich and persuasive. They all sipped in silent enjoyment as the water fizzed and frothed around their shoulders.

  “Perfect end to a good day,” Hamish said with satisfaction.

  “Was it a good day for you, Katie?” Matthew asked.

  In the half dark, in company, she found the nerve to meet his compulsive eyes. “It had its moments.”

  “Which were?”

  The port had given her courage. She smiled and listed the parts of the day he wouldn’t be expecting. “Lovely flight—the mountains looked fantastic. Great to meet Lottie—a huge surprise. Seeing this house. The landscaping here is amazing, and my bedroom is beautiful. Meeting Diana and Hamish... ” She paused.

  “Lunch?”

  “Oh yes, lunch was all right.”

  “Shopping?”

  “Good to get it out of the way.”

  “Dinner?” he growled.

  Hamish and Diana were chuckling.

  “You’ve met your match there,” Hamish said, giving his brother a friendly nudge.

  “And I thought you were so obedient, Katie,” he murmured.

  In an instant, her nerves jumped to full attention.

  “When what’s expected is fair, I’m happy to oblige,” she said, finally looking away from him. It was as sharp a rebuke as she dared give him in the current company.

  Hamish set his empty glass aside with care.

  “Another?” Matthew asked.

  “Best not. I won’t be safe to drive.”

  “Enjoy the port and stay. Kate’ll be grateful to have a chaperone. She’s worried I’m going to pounce in the night.”

  “I am not,” she gasped, astounded he’d voice her thoughts aloud in front of Hamish and Diana. Because he’d certainly been right. With Lottie out of the house, she’d conjured up all sorts of sexy scenarios. Her face burned. Thank heavens for the cool moonlight washing over the spa-room...

  Hamish held out his glass, and she relaxed a little. There’d be others in the house after all.

  “So you’re a swimmer, Kate?” Diana asked.

  “Not for a while now, but yes, I was okay.”

  “More than okay from what I read,” Matthew softly inserted. “Commonwealth Games medallist.”

  “Of course,” Diana exclaimed. “I knew your name was familiar.”

  Kate shot Matthew an annoyed glance. “I’ve given up the serious competitive swimming now, but I coach talented children every week.”

  His gaze sharpened. “What about this week? You said you had nothing to prevent you staying here.”

  “No, they’re doing some mid-winter pool maintenance, so it’s fine.”

  “You’re sure?”

  Kate turned further toward him in exasperation. “It’s absolutely fine. No classes.” She inspected his impressive shoulders, and couldn’t help imagining the rest of him. “Were you ever a swimmer?”

  He raised a watery hand. “Swam like a fish.”

  “We lived in the water,” Hamish said. “Our father had several postings up in the Pacific Islands. It was a great life for kids.”

  “I hated being sent back to New Zealand for school later on,” Matthew added.

  “You took it harder than me. But it should have been easier for you—I was already here.”

  “Four years older—that’s a vast gap at the ages we were. You had your own life by the time I arrived.”

  Suddenly Kate saw him in a different light. Had he been lonely as a teenager? Surely his innate confidence and bantering charm would have got him through anything?

  “Me being older was the best thing that could have happened to you,” Hamish said with certainty. “You lost yourself in those computers. Jumped the queue. Got so far ahead of everyone else, it set you up for life.”

  Matthew grinned wryly at his brother. “It’s okay looking back from here,” he said. “Not so much fun at the time. Too much, too soon.” He turned to Kate. “I was good at tennis though. Grew tall very fast. Had long arms—very handy.”

  “Spider-man,” Hamish added, and they all laughed.

  “What about you, Diana?” Kate asked.

  Diana closed her eyes and leaned back against the edge of the pool. “I’m a country girl—mad on horses. Pony Club gymkhanas... Hunt Club... would have loved to be a jockey actually, which horrified my mother.”

  “But your brother had a friend who was irresistible,” Hamish suggested.

  “I didn’t think you were all that great to start with,” she teased.

  “I grew on you,” he said complacently.

  “Like a rash,” she agreed. She gave him a fond kiss on his nearest cheek and pushed herself up out of the water. “That’s enough for me—I’m turning into a prune,” she said, inspecting her hands. Kate rose up as well, and the water poured down her legs in silvery streams. The air in the room was now bitingly cold. She shivered and folded her arms across her breasts.

  Matthew surged up and reached for the big soft spa towels on a nearby shelf. He tossed one to Diana, but shook the other out and wrapped it around Kate, pinning her arms to her body as she stood in the water, suddenly far too close to his gleaming shoulders and chest.

  “Can’t have our tropical flower catching cold,” he said, rubbing her back and arms through the towel. The hand against her back started making slower and slower circles.

  Her breath caught in her throat. What if there was no towel? If his strong, long-fingered hand was sliding against her bare skin? She wrenched herself away, regretful and desperate, emotions once again in turmoil. Stepping from the pool, she struggled out of the towel so she could mop at her legs, and fled.

  Too late, she realised her clothes and jewellery were still in the changing room. She’d collect them in the morning. The thought of running into him again in the darkened hallway was too much to contemplate.

  She crouched behind her closed door, pulse racing, as she rubbed the towel more thoroughly down her legs. She’d given herself only the most perfunctory rub-down in the spa-room—just enough to save the floor from a trail of water.

  She’d totally ignored Matthew, calling back a collective goodnight as she bolted away from them all... from him... of course from him. And his glorious shoulders. And his clever hands. And his compelling icy eyes.

  She expelled her breath in a frustrated rush. What was she going to do?

  She crossed the dense carpet to the en suite bathroom and peeled the swimsuit off. Her bed lay piled with all the new clothes he’d bought her. She turned back and gathered up the concealing robe, again running her fingers with pleasure along the pink silk trim. She slipped her arms into the sleeves and caught sight of herself in the full-length mirror. Oh, Katie, Katie, she muttered.

  She stopped, regarding her huge-eyed face with desperation. What a giveaway! How could she ever hope to outwit him—she was a lamb ready for his slaughter. And wearing the soft cream covering he’d provided, too... what a cruel joke.

  But not a bad looking victim, she decided, holding the robe open and turning her tall body to advantage in the flattering light. Legs that went on forever—it would be a pity to hide them with a long-skirted dress at the party. Maybe she could find something with a revealing split?

  A slender waist. Hips that were womanly without being wide. Her years of swimming training had seen to that. Breasts that were a nice handful but no more—and high and perky because of it. Prominent collarbones, smooth shoulders, a long neck.

  And heaps of hair. She pulled it free of the fastening and shook it around her in a luxuriant cloud. She’d cursed her tangled curls as a child, and found them a real nuisance under a bathing cap, but now she blessed the volume and bounce. Even on a bad day, she still had good hair. Black and shiny as plump Christmas cherries. Soft as thistledown. Thick as the summer floss on pampas grass.

  She turned for a glimpse of her
long back, and then dropped the robe lower. Simon had adored her butt—never missed an opportunity to give her a little pat on the way by. But Simon was gone.

  She thought about him as she pulled the robe back over her body and sashed it. Simon was gone. Gone and somewhat forgotten, she was surprised to find.

  She took pleasure hanging her unexpected clothes in the big wardrobe. The soft possum jerseys were jewel-bright and sinfully warm. Maybe she’d wear one with her new jeans in the morning.

  Once the bed was clear, she stowed the cosy robe away, had the quickest of showers, and smoothed freesia-scented body lotion over as much skin as she could easily reach.

  Sighing, she pulled the soft white nightdress on and slipped into bed.

  Darkness and silence enveloped her. She dozed for an unknown time, and then came abruptly awake.

  A noise. A rhythmic creaking. Diana’s soft laugh through the wall. An exclamation of pleasure. Silence. A grunt from Hamish and a tortured moan.

  “Ssshhh!” That from Diana. Sharp and commanding.

  A chuckle from Hamish.

  Silence again for several minutes. Had Kate been imagining it? No—the faint creaking resumed, faster this time.

  The house was so isolated there were no other noises to drown out their lovemaking. No traffic. No soughing wind.

  God, she didn’t need this. Not with the temptation of Matthew, the memories of Simon, the delicious awakenings stirring through her as she attempted to begin a new life.

  Kate’s absolute aloneness hit her like a hammer. She clamped her arms around her ribs in an effort to quell the disturbing trembling that shook her from head to toes. Surging waves of misery washed the length of her body. Unbidden tears sprang from her eyes and she swiped at them furiously.

  Terrified she’d lose control, and weep noisily enough to be heard by the lovers through the wall, she tossed back the bedclothes, sank her feet into the deep wool carpet, stood, and tip-toed out along the hallway on shaky legs.

  She turned into the wide main gallery and headed for the living area, well away from the bedrooms. Sensors switched on low lights as she moved forward, making it easy to find her way. Here the floor was tiled and harder underfoot, but blessedly warm from the under-floor heating. She wished she’d stopped long enough to find her slippers, but it was too late now. She sank down into one of the chairs by the huge windows and let her tears roll as everything collided to reduce her to a ball of misery.