A Secret Between Friends: A New Zealand Sexy Beach Romance (Treats to Tempt You Book 6)

by Serenity Woods

  Niall blew out a long, slow breath, struggling to rein in his own emotion. He wanted to pull Genie into his arms and hold her, but instead he remained where he was and met his mother’s gaze across the room.

  Sinead was also crying as she walked over to join them. As Genie tried to compose herself, Stephen murmuring to her, Sinead leaned against Niall, and he put his arm around her.

  “It doesn’t change the fact that she talked Ciara into enlisting,” she whispered.

  “I know. But Ciara loved her job, Mum, and it’s not fair to her to say otherwise. She was a soldier—she knew the risks. It was just one of those things. The other soldier Gin rescued would have come as well tonight if he could, but he’s still in hospital. I spoke to him on the phone.” The guy had cried as he talked about what Genie had done for him, but Niall didn’t add that.

  Sinead wiped under her eyes. “She was incredibly brave.”

  Stephen smiled at Genie as she finally pulled back. “She was. Without her, my baby would be born without a daddy.”

  His wife also gave her a hug. “We’re having a girl,” she said. She exchanged a look with her husband, who nodded. “We’ve decided, we’re going to call her Ciara. I wanted to call her Genevieve, but Stephen said you’d say ‘fuck no’ if I told you that.”

  They all laughed, including Genie, even as she wiped away her tears. “I would have. He knows me well.” She rested a hand on the woman’s bump. “That’s such a wonderful idea. Thank you so much.”

  She looked up then, finally meeting Sinead’s gaze. “Ciara would have loved it, don’t you think?”

  Overcome with emotion, Sinead just nodded, and then the two women hugged. Over his mother’s shoulder, Genie met Niall’s gaze for a moment. Then she closed her eyes.

  He turned away and gestured to the whisky bottle behind Beck, not trusting himself to speak. Luckily, his best mate didn’t need any further prompting. He poured Niall a double and threw in some cubes. Niall took it, swirled the liquid over the ice, and took a big swallow.

  “All right?” Beck asked.

  Niall nodded and ran a hand through his hair. The whisky seared down to his stomach, reassuring and comforting.

  Beck leaned on the bar. “You did a good thing there.”

  “I hope so.” He looked ruefully at his suit. “Not sure this was a good idea, though.”

  Beck glanced past him for a moment, and then looked back, smiling. “Oh… I think you could have done a lot worse.” Reaching behind him, he flicked a switch on the music system. Bic Runga’s Honest Goodbye began to play, the haunting waltz sending a shiver down Niall’s back.

  The shiver didn’t stop when he turned to see Genie standing there, waiting for him.

  “Was this all your doing?” She gestured around her.

  He nodded and finished off his whisky. So much for the first part of the performance. It could have gone a lot worse, he thought, holding out his hand. Now he just had to see how the second half would go.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Genie took Niall’s outstretched hand. To her surprise, her friends and family moved back to leave a large square in the middle of the room. He led her into it and, turning her to face him, he slid his right arm around her waist.

  “It’s a waltz,” he said, taking her cane away and giving it to Jonah. “Ready? We’ll go slow.”

  Her jaw dropped, and then she started to laugh. “Okay.” With his hand warm in the middle of her back, his left hand holding her right tightly, he began to guide her around the room.

  They danced for a while without saying anything, just smiling at each other, occasionally glancing over at those watching them when they cheered or called out a comment. Genie found it difficult to tear her eyes away from him, though. She’d guessed he would look good in a suit, but the truth was so much better than her imagination. He looked like James Bond, not at all uncomfortable as she’d thought he might, as if he’d been born to wear it.

  But it was the look in his eyes that took her breath away. They shone with love, with respect, and with admiration, and that, more than anything, was what won her heart.

  The song came to an end, changing to a slower, more romantic love song, and Niall let go of her hand to slide his arms around her. “Hello,” he said, kissing her temple.

  She looped her hands around his neck. “Hi.”

  “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, glancing over at Sinead, who was watching them both with a gentle smile on her face. “Yeah. I’m good.”

  “I’m glad. I was worried you might be angry with me.”

  She sighed. “Angry? Seriously, Niall. Nobody’s ever gone to so much effort for me.” She grinned. “And on Valentine’s Day as well. You’re such an old romantic.”

  He smiled, and she wondered whether he’d finally kiss her, but he didn’t. He hesitated, and then he said, “I want to talk to you about what happens now.”

  She glanced across at all the people still watching them, and her face grew warm. “Wouldn’t you rather wait until we can go somewhere more private?”

  “I can’t wait. I love you, Gin—I think I always have, from the moment you first moved in with us, with your blonde plaits and the endearing way you used to stamp your foot.”

  She pulled a face. “I did, didn’t I?”

  “You did, and I loved it even though it drove me mad.”

  Lowering her gaze, she fiddled with his bow tie. “I’ve always loved you, too—you know that, right?”

  He blew out a long breath. “I hoped. But it’s nice to hear you say it.”

  She looked up then, into his eyes, the emotion that had been bottled up for so long now refusing to leave her. “I should have said it before—I’m so sorry. I love you.”

  “I’m glad, and I hope that if she were here, Ciara would be glad too.”

  “I hope so.” Genie wiped under her eyes and sniffed.

  “The thing is…the last few weeks have been great, but it’s not enough.”

  Her eyebrows rose, and her heart swelled with hope. “What do you mean?”

  “I want more,” he said simply, and shrugged. “I want you. Forever.”

  She inhaled sharply. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “I…want you too. Forever.”

  He stopped dancing, although he didn’t lower his arms. His green eyes were alight with wonder. “I don’t expect you to leave the Army—I know it’s important to you, and whatever you want to do, we’ll work it out. I’ll come with you, or I’ll stay here and see you when you come home. I just want you to be mine.”

  He traced a hand down her spine, and she shivered as she remembered he’d drawn the word on her back.

  “It’s okay,” she whispered. “I’d already decided I was going to leave. I…was worried what people would think of me if I left when I’d been injured. I didn’t want people to think I was a coward.” The look in his eyes made her wince. “Don’t glare at me.”

  “Genie…”

  “I know. Anyway. I want to leave. I’ve loved being a soldier, and there are things I’ll miss, but I’m ready for…other things.” She swallowed. Should she say what was truly in her heart? “I need to know—you said you broke up with Tamsin because she was pushing you to have a family. Is that something you’d consider, with me?”

  He took a deep breath, dropped his hands, and stepped back. Fumbled in his trouser pocket for a moment. Extracted a small velvet box. And dropped to one knee.

  Genie gasped and clapped her hands over her mouth. Sinead squealed, as did many of the women watching.

  “Genevieve Sharpe,” Niall said, opening the box and looking up into her eyes, “You’re the most wonderful woman in the world, and I’m so proud of you, I could burst. I want to be with you forever, I want to have kids with you, and I want to marry you. Will you do me the honor of being my wife, and wearing this ring so I don’t have to write the world MINE on your back for the rest of your life?”

  Tears ran down her face. �
�Yes. Yes, oh God, a thousand times yes.”

  He took out the ring, and she lowered a hand so he could push it onto her finger. Then as he got to his feet, she flung her arms around his neck and sobbed for the second time that evening.

  People swarmed around them, giving their congratulations, some of them touching her shoulder, or leaning in to kiss her hair, even though her face remained buried in his shirt.

  Niall spoke to them, kissing the women, joking with the guys and shaking their hands. All the while, though, his other arm remained tight around her, warm and reassuring.

  After a while, he maneuvered her a few steps away to a quieter part of the room.

  “Hey, you.” He kissed the top of her head. “Look at me.”

  “I can’t. My face is all red and blotchy.”

  He chuckled and tucked a finger under her chin to lift it. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

  “And you’re a terrible liar.”

  He smiled and ran his thumb across her bottom lip. “I’m so proud of you.”

  “I didn’t do anything anyone else wouldn’t have done,” she said, her voice hoarse. “Ciara would have done the same if she were in my position.” Her eyes watered again. “I’m so sorry I didn’t rescue her.”

  “We were told she died in the blast,” Niall said, tipping his head to kiss away her tears. “It probably wouldn’t have mattered anyway.”

  “I loved her like a sister. It’s upsetting to think she didn’t want us to be together.”

  “She was jealous, that’s all. She loved us both, and she felt that if we dated she’d be left out, and she was probably right. But I’m sure she would feel differently if she knew what you’d done to try to save her.”

  “I hope so. I did try.”

  “I know.” He kissed down her cheek, then touched his lips to hers. “She knows, wherever she is. I don’t think she would have stayed angry with us. She’s watching us now, wishing us well.”

  “I hope so.” She touched his face. “I’d like to carry on with her bucket list. Do everything on there, with you. Would you do that with me?”

  “Of course. I’m your fiancé. You can order me to do anything you want now.” He grinned.

  She nibbled her bottom lip. “Anything?”

  He glanced around to make sure nobody was listening before he moved a bit closer to her. “Why, do you have some ideas?”

  “Might have.” She let her lips brush against his. “I’ll tell you later. They’re not suitable for public consumption.”

  “Okay. We’ll keep them a secret. Between friends.” He grinned.

  Suddenly overwhelmed, she tightened her arms around his neck and pressed her cheek to his. “I love you, and I can’t wait to be your wife. But will you always be my friend?”

  “Of course,” he whispered back. “Will you always be mine?”

  MINE. She shivered at the thought of the word on her skin, remembering the possession in his eyes, and the way he’d claimed afterward. She was his now. They would exchange rings and say “I do,” and she would never be lonely again.

  I miss you, Ciara, she thought. I hope you are happy for me, wherever you are.

  “Always,” she said, and kissed him.

  Sneak Peek – An Ocean Between Us (#7)

  It had been a long and exhausting day.

  Danny Love placed the last spade-full of earth around the new palms, knelt on the ground, and pressed it in with his hands. The cool soil sank between his fingers, rich and loamy. He’d never tire of the smell of fresh earth, cut grass, and new plants. He’d never understood the sort of people who hated being outdoors. Insects and animals, flowers and trees, they were his life, and they always had been, ever since he was a kid.

  Still, he’d had enough for now. He’d worked hard all week, and today, Friday, he’d arrived at eight a.m. to continue the landscaping of Mr. and Mrs. Spencer’s huge garden. It was now seven in the evening. He’d sent his crew home at five, and had continued on his own for a while, enjoying the peace of the place, as well as its glorious view across the bay.

  He pushed himself to his feet, passed his forearm across his face to wipe away some of the sweat, and began watering the new palms with the hose. Even though it was early May and therefore late autumn in New Zealand, up here in the Northland the days were still warm, and with all the lifting and carrying he’d done, he felt as if it was the height of summer.

  The Spencer estate was incredibly impressive. Their large house—well, it was more of a mansion, really—sat atop a hill overlooking the Bay of Islands. The surrounding lawns led to acres of thick bush on either side. Straight in front the grass gave way to a private sandy beach, and beyond that, the Pacific Ocean sparkled a gorgeous blue in the evening sunshine.

  Imagine living somewhere like this, he thought, waking up every morning to such a view out of the bedroom window. He’d love to have any kind of view. Danny lived with his elderly father in a tiny house in the center of Paihia. His bedroom window looked out onto a small garden with a high fence. He loved the garden and had worked hard to make it a place in which his father could sit in his wheelchair and enjoy feeding the birds, which was the only outdoors activity he could really take part in. But Danny would have killed for a view like this.

  Still, at least he got to spend the greater part of his days on other people’s land. Danny ran his own business, Love Landscaping, and he adored his job, which earned him and his father a decent wage to live on, even if it wasn’t enough to buy a place like this.

  Sighing, he curled up the hose, packed the wheelbarrow with his tools, and set off up to the house. The work the Spencers had requested was going to take him a couple more weeks, so he left his tools locked up in one of their sheds at night rather than lug them all home and bring them all back the next day. He was looking forward to treating himself for the week’s hard work by going to the Between the Sheets bar tonight. The notion of an ice cold beer was the only thing that had kept him going the last couple of hours.

  He was halfway across the lawn when he saw a figure standing in front of the house. The woman wore a pale blue dress and sunhat and was watching him, hand raised to shield her eyes.

  The couple who’d recently bought the house had temporarily returned to England, but Danny knew their daughter was supposed to be arriving today to stay for a while, so this must be her. He changed direction and slowed as he approached her. For a brief moment, he thought he’d travelled back two hundred years. She looked the spitting image of the women he’d seen in some of the early photographs of the first European settlers in New Zealand, the dress buttoned up to her neck and almost reaching her ankles. He knew Mr. and Mrs. Spencer were upper class English gentry, and he’d been amused by William Spencer’s plummy BBC accent, straight out of an old black-and-white movie. Did the daughter speak the same way?

  He stopped before her, lowered the handles of the wheelbarrow, and straightened. “Kia ora,” he said, the standard Kiwi greeting, pronounced key-ora.

  “Hello,” she replied, lifting her chin. He grinned—yes, she did have the same plummy accent. “Goodness,” she said, her nose wrinkling. “You’re filthy.”

  He raised his eyebrows, then looked down at himself. She had a point—after a day spent up to his armpits in earth that he’d then turned to mud with the hose, there wasn’t a lot of clean clothing left on his body. He wore shorts to the knee but the mud had caked on his bare legs, and although he hadn’t looked in a mirror since he’d showered that morning, he was certain his face would be streaked with earth and sweat.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I’m a real Kiwi man. We prefer things dirty.”

  He grinned, but she didn’t smile back. She was a cool one, he thought as she slid off her sunglasses. He’d imagined her eyes to be an icy blue, but to his surprise they were a warm brown. She had long brown hair she’d braided into a plait that hung over one shoulder, not a stray hair out of place. There were no freckles on her pale skin—he bet she wore fact
or seventy sun-lotion as soon as summer approached, very different from most Kiwi girls, the majority of whom bore a healthy tan. Still, it meant her face and neck were free of lines, and he had the feeling that if he ran a finger around her pale shoulder, the skin would feel silky smooth to the touch.

  She gave a tiny sniff and looked away, down to the palm island he’d been working on. “I thought you’d be farther along by now. Is that all you’ve done so far?”

  Irritation fought with amusement. Completing the island had taken him all week. Clearly, this posh bird had never picked up a spade in her life, and almost certainly she had no idea of the work involved in landscaping grounds the size of these.

  “I’m sorry it doesn’t meet with your approval.”

  She turned her frosty gaze back to him. “Where’s Mr. Love? I’d like to talk to the owner rather than one of his hands.”

  One of his…? Who the fuck did this girl thinks she was?

  He put his hands on his hips. If he wasn’t sitting in the bar drinking a beer within thirty minutes, he was going to end up murdering someone, and if the snooty girl kept talking like that, she would end up the prime contender. “He’s not here.”

  She blew out a frustrated breath. “What’s your name?”

  “Danny.”

  “Danny…”

  “Mellors,” he said, deadpan.

  She gave a small nod, and he stifled a chuckle. Clearly, D.H. Lawrence hadn’t been on the curriculum when she was at Oxford or Cambridge, or wherever she’d received her stuffy, upper-class education.

  “Well, Mr. Mellors, you can tell Mr. Love from me that I am not impressed. He knew I was arriving on Friday, and I had expected him to be here.”

  “I’m not sure he was aware what time you’d be arriving.”

  Huffing an irritated sigh, she pulled her smart phone out, tapped on the screen, and handed it to him. “I sent him an email this morning.”

  Danny read it through—he hadn’t checked his emails since yesterday evening and hadn’t seen her message. He read the last line. “Hermy-wun? Is that your name?”