Sinful Intentions

by Amy Redwood

  “You won’t let me do it?” she repeated quietly. “You won’t let me do it?”

  “Yes,” he said, and placed both hands next to her on the sink, trapping her, intimidating her. “I won’t let you destroy this house.”

  She pushed him hard in his chest. “Step away from me.” The look in his eyes changed to confusion and he put more distance between them. “You think you can tell me what to do just because I’ve let you fuck me?”

  For a second she thought he might argue, but he turned away, dropped the keys on the floor and walked out the house without a glance back.

  She sank to the floor, taking a few deep breaths. She noticed that her hands trembled and she hugged herself. She strained to understand why she had ended up sitting—shaking—on the floor.

  His anger had hit her out of nowhere. It wasn’t that she didn’t see his point, but that was clearly overreacting on his part. Geez, exactly in what world was he living? She had neither the money nor interest to invest in fancy renovations. She wanted the house sold, sooner rather than later. For that, all she needed was a touch-up, a modern feel. Surely other people did that all the time. What was so wrong?

  The nerve of him. She picked the keys up from the floor. To his credit, she didn’t believe he had realized how vulnerable she had felt with him towering over her as if he were about to bite her head off.

  She stood up, brushed away the dust on her dress and left the house. She walked over the back porch into the garden and stopped dead short. He stood at the fence, but not alone.

  She was sure she looked at the owner of the bungalow, the one with the cats. The woman was blonde, her limbs slender, her focus on his face. She talked animatedly with him, one hand rested on his shoulder, and she wouldn’t be surprised if the woman swooshed a tail.

  Katherine sneezed.

  The woman’s attention snapped around. “Hi there,” she called. “I just asked McGregor why he’s running around in the old villa’s garden. I guess you’re the owner?” She smiled, showing very white teeth.

  Katherine stood a few seconds without moving and then slowly walked over to them, staring at his shoulders and dreading being close to him again. With as much possible distance, she stopped next to him. “Yes, I’m putting the house on the market.”

  “Katherine,” he said, his voice flat, “this is Susan, she’s in real estate.”

  Susan gave him her full-toothed smile, but her eyes stayed focused on Katherine. “Lovely,” Susan said. “I have an expansive client base, and people are just dying to buy in this area.” She produced her business card with a flick of her hand.

  “I’ll think about it,” Katherine answered, and took the card. “But I promised another agent to call him first.”

  “Well, if you haven’t signed a contract with an agent yet, you can switch. I feel you could sell this baby at a great price once you do it up. It’s a tad dated.”

  He gave a dry laugh. “I think you two will get along just great.”

  Katherine watched his back as he walked away. He didn’t return to Ada’s but instead entered an old four-wheel-drive truck and, with a roar from the engine, took off.

  “You guys are old friends?” Susan asked, curiosity evident in her voice.

  “Hell no,” Katherine said. “And we never will be.”

  ———

  “Don’t worry, I’ll put it on your bill.” Ada came out in the garden, carrying a golden-brown shepherd’s pie dish and placed in on the garden table. “No, never mind,” she said, and laughed. “I enjoy your company. Tell me more about the house.” Ada poured out another glass of iced tea.

  After a huge helping of delicious pie, Katherine couldn’t tiptoe around the topic any longer. Ada had already asked twice. “The villa,” she began, “well, you know how it looks on the outside. It’s even worse inside.”

  “You still want to do it up yourself?” Ada asked.

  Katherine drew in a deep breath. Whatever she would do, she wouldn’t surrender her handy location next to the villa just because of him.

  “I think I can clean up the garden, but I’ll need professional help with the walls and floors inside the house. Any ideas where to get experienced contractors?” Katherine stifled a huge yawn without much success. They sat in the twilight with the last rays of sun nearly gone, and Katherine thought with longing of her bed.

  “Let’s talk tomorrow. You look dog-tired and I’m nagging you with questions. Why don’t you have a good night’s rest?” Ada shot a look at the sky, saying, “If it’s not raining, I’m laying out your breakfast here.” She pointed at the garden table.

  Katherine thanked Ada again and gratefully left for her room. She undressed and slipped naked between the sheets, expecting to fall asleep in an instant, but kept thinking about the next day.

  She’d need to find contractors for the building work, and she could start the garden cleanup. How difficult could it be? People sold property every single day. She turned from side to side under the sheets, once more trying to find sleep. Counting to one hundred, she sat up again. She’d go insane if she couldn’t talk to someone.

  She gazed at the phone, the urge to call Simon to hear his familiar voice, to confront him, to hear his lousy excuses, became increasingly harder to resist. She grabbed the phone next to her and dialed a long international number.

  “Guess who?”

  Her question was met with a surprised high-pitched scream. “Oh my God, where are you? Everyone is looking for you and I thought for sure you were dead or kidnapped or worse or—”

  “Meg, chill, please. I’m not dead. I’m in New Zealand.”

  Silence greeted her on the other line. “Girl, what the fuck are you doing there? It’s only days until your wedding.”

  Katherine couldn’t help but grin, thankful Meg had pulled herself together to her usual self. “Have you seen Simon?”

  “Have I seen—” Meg gave a short, sarcastic laugh. “He’s been all but stalking me in the last days, sure I was hiding you or something. He has completely lost it, Kate.”

  Katherine chest grew tight. “Good.”

  Meg gave a sigh. “Is this a case of wedding jitters? Honey, I have the most gorgeous dress in my closet and I intend to wear it to your wedding. Kate, darling, talk to me.”

  “Simon,” Katherine said, her throat growing tight, “cheated on me during his bachelor party.”

  After a pregnant pause, Meg said, “No. Way. In. Hell.”

  That’s what I thought once too. “Someone sent pics directly to my cell. Believe me, they didn’t leave a single doubt.”

  “And who sent you these pics, Kate?”

  Katherine remembered all too well the shock, the pain, how she’d been paralyzed by the numbness that had flooded her body. “I don’t know. Maybe the girl he was with, maybe one of his friends who felt I had the right to know.”

  “What did Simon say?”

  “I got the pics the morning after the party. I was on the plane five hours later. I didn’t want to talk to him, ’cause I might have killed him.”

  Meg let out a long sigh. “Kate, you are killing me. Are you sure it was him, sure the pics weren’t airbrushed or something like that?”

  There had been several images, close-ups, frontals, almost pornographic in detail, but the one of Simon, his pants around his ankles, fucking that woman from behind had etched itself into her brain. It was some consolation that one image had shown him using a condom. “I’m sure.”

  “I want to see them,” Meg said quickly. “I just can’t wrap my head around it.”

  “Meg, I am not showing you pics of Simon doing a stripper.”

  “Yes, you are. And then I’ll take a cab, drive to him and cut off his dick for you.”

  Katherine closed her eyes. “After the first shock settled, I got really, really mad.”

  “Who wouldn’t.”

  “I threw my cell phone against the wall.”

  Meg groaned. “’Course you did. I can still cut off his di
ck for you though.”

  Katherine smiled. “I might still want to do that myself.”

  “God, Kate, I am so sorry,” Meg said. “But why run to the other side of the world?”

  “It felt…like the right thing to do at that time.”

  “Can I tell him where you are, give him your number?”

  “Yes,” Katherine whispered, digging her nails into her palms, realizing that she wanted him to find her, wanted to talk to him, but on her terms. Simon knew she had ties to Auckland, knew about the house. She’d told him once, he ought to remember.

  “You have to talk to him,” Meg said quietly. “Let him know the wedding is off. The wedding is off, right?” Meg added, her voice cautious. “Oh God, what will Jack say?”

  “He will be thrilled,” Katherine said dryly. “He never warmed to Simon.” Understatement, she thought. Jack hated Simon. The pure realization of it hit her like a fist. She let out a groan.

  “Meg, I have to go.” When Meg asked for her phone number, she gave it to her after a moment’s hesitation and then hung up. Katherine stared at the wall, thinking about her already-written wedding vows, her dress, her friends, the cake, the three hundred guests.

  She picked up the phone again, dialed the private phone number only a handful of people knew and sat straighter—old habits died hard—when Jack answered the phone right after the first ring.

  “Jack, it’s me.”

  “Katherine, you know I don’t like you calling me that.”

  “I’m in New Zealand.”

  “I’m aware of that. Wedding’s cancelled?”

  She closed her eyes, swore under her breath. “I hate when you do that. Get your nose out of my life!”

  “He’s not right for my little girl, always known it.”

  “I’m not your little girl anymore. How could you? How could you let someone take images like that and have them sent to your daughter? They were disgusting.”

  “But I was right, wasn’t I? Come home, I have a job waiting for you.”

  “I’m not going to work for you.” She slammed the phone down.

  When would her he stop messing with her life? She couldn’t believe Jack had spied on Simon. Then again, she could. He must have tried for months to dig dirt up on him. Fuck you, Simon, she thought. Why did you prove my dad right?

  But the anger, the mad rage she’d felt for Simon had softened. The pain and hurt not as fresh as on the first day. Maybe it was the distance between them or because she was tired. Maybe she suffered from an emotional overload and had grown numb, or it was because she’d gotten much more than just even.

  She looked at her hand. Her finger wasn’t red anymore, wasn’t itching. Maybe, and it was a very small maybe, it meant that she was ready to forgive Simon.

  But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t quite ban Trent from her thoughts. His whole presence was…intense. She hoped that she would avoid running into him again. He might be Ada’s nephew, but surely he wouldn’t turn up each day to visit his aunt.

  Chapter Five

  The native birds outside the window made a racket no one could have mistaken for singing. The sun was rising, illuminating Katherine’s room with soft beams of light. She kept her eyes tightly shut, forcing her legs not to jump up right away.

  She pulled the bedcovers over her head to block out the approaching day. After another luxurious stretch, she climbed out of bed and tried out her tiny bath. The shower started with a low rumble but supplied gushing, hot water.

  Toweling dry, she decided to ditch the hairdryer to save time. She threw the window shutters wide open, letting in the warm morning breeze, fragrant with the scent of Ada’s cottage garden.

  Through the open window she spotted the breakfast table laid out and heard her tummy responding. Must be the fresh air. She donned blue jeans and a black v-neck shirt. The grass sparkled with morning dew, tickling her bare feet, as she strolled to the breakfast table.

  Ada had set the table with delicious treats. A pot of steaming tea, a basket of fresh rolls, fruit and homemade jam grabbed her attention first, directly followed by Trent, who came out the kitchen door, holding a mug. Looking up, he stopped so abruptly that coffee spilled over his hand. Swearing, he shook his hand.

  “What the—” he said, and bumped the mug on the table. He sat down and stretched out his long legs. “What are you doing here?”

  She couldn’t believe it, not him again. What was he doing here in the morning? Was he homeless or what? Aware of her wet hair, and her naked toes digging into the grass, she simply stared at him.

  “Ada didn’t tell you?” she said at last, hating her self-consciousness. His presence ruined her breakfast. She continued standing in front of the table, the grass tickling her feet.

  “Tell me what?” he asked, but then comprehension dawned on his face. “No—please tell me you haven’t moved into…” He gave a sigh, took a sip from his coffee. “No, for some reason she didn’t tell me you’re staying at her B and B. If she had mentioned…” His voice trailed away, and she was perfectly aware what he meant.

  If he had known, he would have stayed miles away.

  He continued to study her over his coffee, his face not betraying his thoughts. He was clad in a white shirt, which brought out his dark eyes. Otherwise, he dressed in jeans, and he was also not wearing shoes.

  The whole scene looked so domestic, so intimate that she considered fleeing back into her sleep out, but she wasn’t ready to admit defeat. She figured that he wouldn’t leave the table anytime soon. She sat down, refusing to eat, while welcoming the teacup in her hands. His gaze was on her, and she tried to ignore the loaded silence.

  Glancing through her hair, she saw he finally showed some nerves. He fidgeted with his shirt and a square label stuck out at the back of his neck. Her first reflex was to tuck it back in and her fingers itched.

  On second thought, she closed her hands over the warm teacup, definitely not a good idea.

  “Where’s Ada?” she asked to break the silence.

  “Walking Lucky,” he answered, and she could sense he wasn’t interested in small talk. She wished she had kept her mouth shut.

  She poured herself another cup of tea and thought desperately what she should be doing next. She was hungry, but with him at the table, she couldn’t bring herself to eat. Why couldn’t he leave, didn’t he have somewhere else to go? He didn’t seem particularly busy, and she wondered again what he did for a living.

  “I’ll fix the fence gate after breakfast,” he said in a clipped voice.

  “There’s no need—” she said, but he interrupted.

  “I broke it. I’ll fix it.”

  “Listen closely,” she replied, not turning away from his cool expression. “I’m sure you can waste your time elsewhere. I don’t want your help.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, helping you isn’t my intention.” He took a bite out of his bread roll and licked jam from the corner of his mouth. “I’ll repair it, simple as that, so relax. I’ll keep out of your house.”

  “Good,” she said, “except you should listen more carefully. I said that I don’t need your help at all. Stay away from me.” She pushed back from the table and knocked over her teacup.

  He looked slowly up and their eyes met. “Rest assured that I have no desire to lay a single finger on you.” His gaze dipped lower, centered between her legs. “You were about to leave.” He sipped his coffee. “Don’t let me keep you.”

  Katherine turned on her heel and escaped.

  ———

  Trent spread out the tools to fix the gate in front of him, intending to finish his work as quickly as possible and then stay clear of, well, everything else.

  Just as he put his hands to the damaged lock, he heard a piercing scream coming out of the villa. Her voice sent a chill down his spine, and he jumped up and sprinted through the garden toward the back door without a second thought.

  When he rushed inside the kitchen, she sat on the floor, shaken, bu
t in one piece. A clipboard was next to her on the floor, notes scribbled on it. She rubbed her hand, looking wide-eyed at something. He followed her gaze and exhaled, relieved. She was pale around the nose, and he tried not to laugh.

  “Why, you’ve met a giant weta.”

  “It’s hideous. I’ve never seen such an insect before,” she said, getting slowly to her feet again. The weta waved a long antennae, raising long, spiky back legs as if trying to attack, but otherwise didn’t move.

  “They’re night active. You usually don’t see them during the day,” he said. “At least you didn’t smash it. They are native and protected.”

  She shuddered and he could understand why, the weta was as long as his hand and looked like a mutant grasshopper out of a nightmare.

  “Can it jump?” She stepped farther away.

  “No, it’s too heavy to jump,” he said, still trying hard not to laugh.

  “Well, I don’t fancy having it in the house. It should get its ugly head out of here quickly, protected or not.”

  “They are completely harmless. There’s no need to be afraid.” He scooped the insect up in one hand. It walked up his arm. He let the insect crawl back into his other hand.

  “Here, try it.” He stretched his hand out, watching her face. She had recovered from her scare, but judging by the frown on her forehead, she’d become aware that he was back in her villa.

  He could easily imagine her hissing at him, like a cat. Cat, he thought, Katherine.

  Kat.

  He knew he should get the hell away, but his legs wouldn’t move. He loved to watch her eyes. Loved to watch how she replaced the warm, golden sparkle with coldness. How she put up her defenses. How she squared her shoulders for a fight. He suppressed a grin—she was ridiculously easy to read, and he knew exactly how she would answer.

  “I wasn’t afraid. Please leave and rescue someone else.” Her pale expression had changed into flushed cheeks.

  He hadn’t expected any other reply. It was wrong to play with her, but he couldn’t resist. He looked her over, taking in her wild curls, her breasts under the stretched shirt, down over her long legs, and smiled when he saw her dirty, bare feet.