“Vicky would never forgive you for taking her away from Amy. Come to that, neither would Amy.”
“Hmm, we can’t provoke their anger by taking Vicky home before tomorrow. So it’ll be just you and me at home alone—together. Perfect chance to teach you the next steps in tango.”
The next steps— If Harry took Bri home to an empty house, would she be thinking of those next steps the same as he was?
Her gaze darkened and dropped to his mouth and Harry knew with bone-deep certainty. For all Bri’s assertions that she wouldn’t kiss him again no matter how much she wanted to, if he kissed her she would kiss him back. And the next kiss they shared wouldn’t stop at his mouth on hers. Heady with the light floral scent of Bri’s perfume, drugged on the nearness of her, he leaned closer. She wrenched her gaze from his and focused on someone behind him. A polite smile, one that didn’t match the desire in her eyes, curved her lips up.
“I think we should go inside.” There was a breathless quality to her voice; and he was responsible for it. He made Bri feel something too. The attraction simmering between them wasn’t one sided; it might be lust, but it was real, and Harry knew the elation of connection.
“Hi Harry, Bri, lovely to see you both here.” Harry turned to see Clare Spencer holding out a hand and the chance to retreat was lost—for now. She was smiling as always, but the look she cast Bri, and the raised eyebrows asked a question he didn’t understand. “Come on in and join the fun. There are canapés and drinks to the right, Jim is behind the bar. I think he’s trying to escape dancing with Nancy.”
Bri turned to him. “Would you mind grabbing us a couple of glasses of sparkling please, Harry.”
“Sure. Clare, would you like a glass?”
Clare shook her head. “God, no, I mean, no thanks. I need to keep a clear head for now and make sure everything runs to plan.”
“Okay, I’ll say hello to Jim and encourage him to maintain marital harmony by dancing with his wife at least once.” He turned and headed to the bar. While he waited for Jim to finish pouring for the parents ahead of him, Harry looked back. Bri and Clare had their heads close together in that secret women’s business way. Both turned together and met his gaze, but Bri bit her lip and looked away first.
She likes you, Harry.
Promise you’ll dance with other women.
“Ha, so that’s the way the wind’s blowing?”
“What’s that, mate? Didn’t quite catch what you said.” Jim leaned on the bar across from him.
“Nothing, Jim. Two sparkling wines and a glass of water for Ms. Spencer, thanks.” Bri’s odd comment at the door suddenly made perfect sense. How long had she been matchmaking him with Vicky’s teacher? Since the photo shoot, or was this a recent development on the horizon, designed to fill the gap after Bri left the Isa and he and Vicky were once more on their own? A flicker of annoyance licked through him. He would decide who to date and who to mate, and, as much as he respected the kindy teacher, it was Bri who stirred his blood. And Bri he wanted in his bed.
##
“I’m sorry, Clare. He tricked me into coming tonight. I had no idea until yesterday that the second ticket was for me.” Clare’s odd look had set Bri’s guilt-o-meter spiking and, too late, she remembered encouraging the teacher to make a move on Harry. Another of her random, hare-brained, off-the-cuff ideas for the benefit of others. Had Clare done anything since their talk?
“Bri, there’s no apology necessary. I appreciate you’re looking out for Harry. It was nice of you to think I could help, but Harry is more than capable of deciding what’s best for him and Vicky.”
“I do know that, but I thought you liked him.”
A second layer of colour showed faintly beneath the teacher’s makeup. “You’re not treading on any toes here, Bri. I admire how Harry has worked to make life normal—well, as normal as possible under the circumstances—for Vicky. And yes, I like him, but I’d be a fool to pursue that interest. He’s the father of one of my students. Besides, I have eyes in my head. Anyone can see you’re the reason he’s begun getting out again.”
Pleasure mixed with a smattering of panic in Bri’s chest. She should run a hundred miles, but one smile from Harry, the touch of his hand on her body, and she didn’t want to move on. But she had to. “I’m leaving when the nanny is back on her feet.” There could be no siren call to stay longer in the Isa. Not for Harry and not for Vicky. Bri was committed to Gramps’ cause; she had to do what was right and that meant family first. Her gaze settled on Harry, handsome and appealing both in and out of his tuxedo.
“Hmm, so I am right.”
“About what?” Bri frowned. Not so much as a sip of sparkling wine had passed her lips and yet she couldn’t follow a simple conversation. She turned back to Clare.
“You do care for him.” Clare patted her arm. “You didn’t contradict me.”
“Didn’t I?”
Clare shook her head.
Brilliant, just brilliant. What a fool she was not to have seen she was falling for her employer. “It seems I’m the last one to realise. Do you think people will give Harry a hard time, you know, especially when I leave?”
“You’re still going? But I thought . . . Not my business. Just think about what you have achieved before you decide to leave. I’ve never seen Harry or Vicky happier than since you moved in to care for Vicky. That says a lot in my book.”
Harry approached with two flutes in one hand and a glass of water in the other. “Clare, for you.”
“Thanks. I’ll chat later. Things to do.” Clare took the glass and slipped between two groups.
Harry handed a flute to Bri. “Everything going to plan?”
For a moment, Bri thought Harry knew what she’d tried to do and her stomach clenched. He wasn’t the sort of man to tamely accept interference in his life, especially his love life. Which Bri realised he had managed very neatly without her. Or was that in spite of her efforts? She gulped a mouthful of sweet, fizzy drink and pulled a face. “Gosh, that’s sweet.”
“Distraction, hmm? I guess that means no. Never mind. The best laid plans of mice and men—you know how it goes.”
“Now whose line of logic is faulty? I have no idea what you’re rabbiting on about.” She prayed he had no idea what she had blithely tried to do. If she learned nothing more in her time with Harry, she had learned the value of not rushing into things. Look where not thinking had got her!
“Okay, you’re nervous so we’re just going to get this over with now.”
Oh God, no. He was going to take her to task over her high-handed intrusion into his life.
Harry set their glasses on one of the high bar tables scattered around the space and, with her hand firmly in his, led her between tables and chairs onto the dance floor. Realising his intent was not to chastise her, but to dance, flutters in her stomach quarrelled with the sparkling wine. Certain her fear of dancing in public was about be exceeded only by the embarrassment of throwing up on the dance floor, she tried to pull back, tried to slip her hand out of Harry’s, to no avail. When Harry made up his mind, things happened. Because Harry planned. Harry knew her well enough to expect reluctance, even downright escape attempts.
“Please, Harry, I can’t do this. I feel sick.”
Harry’s arm slipped around her waist and held her against his chest, close enough that her black dress was indistinguishable from his tux. “Trust me.” She tried to see her feet, but their bodies swayed close together, so close, so . . .
His breath stirred the tendrils of hair she’d left loose. It tickled her ear and she imagined the touch of his lips there, and on her lips, everywhere on her body. She tipped her head back and met his gaze. How could she ever have thought Harry’s eyes were boring brown? Points of golden light flickered through them, intensifying his until she wanted to melt in a puddle of lust on the floor, dragging him with her.
His voice was pitched low and he spoke softly. “You’re dancing, Bri, in public with me, and you aren
’t tripping over anything. You aren’t going to fall because I won’t let you.” His arms tightened around her, just enough that she trusted him to make good on his promise.
They completed a slow circuit of the dance floor, edging closer to the middle as more couples joined them. She closed her eyes, shutting out the sight of other people and losing herself in the rhythm, following his lead, feeling everything through his body as she’d done during their lesson. The brush of his thigh, the gentle pressure of his chest against her breasts, the heat that arrowed straight to her core.
Last time she’d danced with Harry it had ended with kisses. His aftershave teased her nose and she tipped her face up until her lips brushed his jaw. He drew in a sharp breath, and his hand tightened on hers, slid over her hip . . . She savoured his response. This time, she wanted more.
“Open your eyes, Bri.” Goose bumps skittered down her back as his warm breath caressed her ear.
“Why? I can concentrate better if I can’t see anyone.” She opened one eye and peeked at Harry. His gaze focused on her with laser-like intensity, and a seductive smile played around his lips. She liked his smile, which had appeared often in the last few days. He looked younger, happier . . . sexier. Her breath caught in her throat.
“I’m about to dip you.”
“What—”
Harry executed a neat half-turn and tipped Bri back in his arms. She gasped and clung to his shoulder before he set her back on her feet and twirled her in a series of fast turns. Happiness and something unknown crossed his expression. Something that matched the desire filling her. Something that promised more than kisses. He wanted her as much as she wanted him.
“Harry, I—”
“Good one, mate.” Jim nudged Harry’s shoulder as he and Nancy shuffled past.
Harry winked at his friend.
The wink puzzled her before she realised Harry’s dipping manoeuvre had been a polite way to extricate them. She’d almost kissed him, definitely been on the verge of it. “Harry, I’m sorry, I did it again. I forgot where I was and—” She pulled away, but his hand stopped her, held her, pressed her closer.
“And you were about to kiss me. You have a very expressive face, Bri.”
Heat rushed up her neck and cheeks and her gaze slid away. Sure there was one heck of an attraction between them, but Harry wouldn’t thank her for putting it on display for all the parents to see. “I need a cold drink.”
“No, you don’t. You need to make good on your offer.”
“You want to kiss me—here? Now, in front of everyone?”
“Your choice.”
“Don’t you care that people will talk?”
“It’s just talk.” He chuckled and placed her other hand, the hand he’d been holding, on his shoulder before settling his arms over her hips. “And a healthy dose of envy. I’m with the prettiest woman in the room and you know what?”
Bemused, Bri shook her head. Harry when he was happy was a force to be reckoned with. If he wanted to kiss her in the middle of the dance floor, he could go right ahead and dazzle her because she was incapable of refusing him. Not when she wanted his lips on hers more than she wanted her next breath.
“You know I said I’d dance with other women tonight?” He kissed her forehead and her eyes closed in expectation of more.
“Uh huh.”
“I lied.”
##
It was well after midnight when they turned into the driveway at home. In spite of the hour, Bri felt energised. “If dancing makes me feel this good, I’m going to have to go more often.”
Harry switched off the engine and came around the car to open her door. “Dancing with the right partner makes all the difference.” He led her into the house and dimmed the lights in the lounge, and then picked up a remote. A muffled click indicated the Bluetooth speaker had turned on.
“But did you notice something missing from the selection of music tonight?”
“I think we covered every dance you taught me and then some. Except . . .”
“Except one.” The strains of Armik’s guitar filled the room and the rhythm flowed into her feet. Harry held out a hand, inviting her to join him. “I’d like to tango with you, Bri. How about it?”
Tango. Their first tango had ended in a sizzling kiss with so much promise. Was that what Harry was hoping for? More tango kisses? But she wanted more. The music insisted on it.
“I only know the basic steps, Harry. How much fun will that be for you?”
“I know plenty of variations, if you’re willing. Infinite angles, and possibilities, and . . .” He stood in front of her, slowly raising her right hand while slipping an arm around her back and drawing her close. Heat flared in her belly, dived into the apex of her thighs, a throbbing, insistent beat. There was only one way this night could end.
“Yes, Harry, I love adventure and dancing, and . . . possibilities.”
Chapter Twenty
Harry’s arm pulsed with pins and needles. It took him two seconds to open his eyes, to see a blonde head of hair lying across his shoulder, to register and react to the curve of Bri’s backside against his groin and decide the pain in both parts of his anatomy was worth every tingling nerve end. He dropped a light kiss on her bare shoulder and thought about waking her slowly, with kisses and feather-light strokes. His hand slid across warm silky thigh. Bri moved against him in her sleep. He sucked in a breath as his balls tightened.
Pleasure-pain.
The tango had led to more than kisses; a trail of clothes between the lounge and his bedroom were evidence of that. A trail he’d better clear before Vicky arrived home. No rush. Amy and Dan had offered to drop her off at midday on the way to their afternoon shift.
He tucked a strand of hair behind Bri’s ear and nuzzled the soft skin behind it. Goose bumps rose on her arm, the same as last night. She tipped her head into the pillow, giving him better access and mumbled something.
“Good morning. Did you ask for more or—”
“More, yes, more.”
“My pleasure.”
“Don’t you mean our pleasure? I was perfectly satisfied.”
“Good.” He reached into the open drawer beside him. “Damn, I don’t have any more condoms.”
“We weren’t that bad last night, were we? Two, three times?”
“Three, as if you didn’t know. You were crooning something about once, twice—”
“I know. Three times a—maybe the title doesn’t fit after what I screamed the third time.”
“Every time.” Harry grinned at her. “Looks like I’ll need to be a little more inventive this time around—”
A car door slammed in front of the house and Vicky’s giggle turned into full-blown laughter at the same time as Harry jumped out of bed and tugged on a pair of boardies. He grabbed a T-shirt and was out the door before Bri sat up. God, how far they had flung their clothes, he thought, scooping Bri’s bra off the stairs. Her dress pooled beside the sofa, her knickers were draped on a spike of a tropical pot plant, and Harry’s shirt had landed on the kitchen bench . . .
He had approximately twenty seconds to clear the telltale signs of last night’s activity before his daughter entered and started asking why Daddy could fling his clothes on the floor and she had to keep hers tidied away. Casting a last frantic glance around the lounge, he grabbed his shoes on the way to the laundry and dumped the armful of clothes into the laundry basket, flung the shoes on top and pulled the door shut behind him.
“Daddy, there you are.” She jumped into his arms and gave him a sloppy kiss.
“Hi, Pumpkin. I didn’t realise it was midday all ready.”
Amy lowered Vicky’s overnight bag onto a stool. “It isn’t, but Dan and I were called in a little early today. We have to attend a meeting before our shift begins. Sorry, I should have texted, but I didn’t think you’d mind. Although it looks like you had a good night.” She bent down and picked up one of Bri’s high-heeled shoes from under the sofa. It dangled off the ti
p of her finger, the silver sequins catching the light as she held it up for inspection.
Harry remembered the moment Bri had stepped out of those heels, right after he’d unzipped her dress and let it fall.
“Pretty shoes, Daddy. Did Bri wear them?”
“Harry?” Amy was looking at him and he saw the moment she connected the dots.
“Sorry, what did you say?”
“That good, hey?” She scooped the partner shoe up and handed them to Harry. She dropped her voice and leaned close to him. “Hope that’s all I find. Do you need me to take Vicky out the back for a couple of minutes?”
“It’s fine, but thanks.”
“You might want to—” She pointed discreetly past his shoulder. He glanced around and saw his bowtie draped across the lapis lazuli glazed pottery vase, grabbed it and shoved it in his pocket.
“Right. Vicky, would you like to show Amy your sandpit and new shade sail.” He lowered his daughter and cast a quick pleading look at Amy.
“Sure, just a quick look though because Dan and I have to go to work.” Amy held out a hand and Vicky slipped hers into it.
“Okay, Daddy. Come on, Amy.”
Harry checked the room carefully while running inventory in his head of the items he’d already collected. He was on his knees checking under the sofa when Bri raced down the stairs.
“Oh my God, was that Vicky? All our clothes—”
“It’s fine, I got all of them in time, except—”
“Don’t say my knickers, please don’t say they were lying on the floor when she came in.” Harry sat back on his heels, looked at Bri then past her. Dan leaned against the wall, arms folded, wearing a bemused expression.
“Ahem, good morning, cuz.” Dan clearly thought the scene amusing while Bri blushed furiously.
And what did Harry think? Did he really care that Bri’s cousin knew about them?
On balance he decided he didn’t.
On balance, he decided he was happy. And that was something he hadn’t felt in a very long time.
Wild About Harry (Hearts of the Outback Book 5) Page 12