New Title 1

by Jane Harvey-Berrick

  “Mmm, this is good. Have you been here before?”

  He nodded nonchalantly. “A couple of times.”

  “Ever bring your women here?”

  He frowned, and looked irritated. “You make it sound like I had a fucking parade of them.”

  “Didn’t you?”

  He threw down his fondue fork angrily.

  “What do you want me to say, Caro? I fucked everything I could get my hands on when I realized you weren’t coming back. It was years before I trusted a woman enough to be able to make love to her, and even then...”

  He stopped mid sentence, scowling at me.

  I’d done it again: forced him to say words that only brought pain to both of us.

  “I’m sorry,” I murmured. “I didn’t mean…” I looked into his eyes. “It’s none of my business, Sebastian. I apologize.”

  And it really wasn’t. I was the one who had insisted that we couldn’t change the past and here I was, surgically opening old wounds, one by one.

  “I’m sorry, too. I didn’t mean to yell at you,” he said, his voice aching with regret.

  Then he took a deep breath and shook his head to clear away the anger and recriminations.

  We sat silently for several minutes. I searched around for a more neutral topic of conversation.

  “How long have you had the motorcycle?”

  He leaned back in his chair.

  “This one, about two years. But I’ve had one on and off since I was 19. Bought my first bike as a birthday present to myself. It’s still in Ches’s garage.”

  “Really? Well, there’s another reason for his wife to think you’re leading Ches astray. Or is he the responsible father-type now?”

  Sebastian smiled.

  “He’s a great dad – really patient. He fucking loves those kids of his. But we still take the boards out and catch some waves when I’m there.”

  “Uh-huh, and how many meals have you made him late for, just catching ‘one more wave’?”

  He smiled knowingly.

  “Too many for Amy’s taste! But he goes out when Mitch visits, too, so she can’t blame me for that.”

  “Oh, I don’t know: it sounds as if she’d think of a way. I think I’d like her: a woman immune to the Hunter charm.”

  Sebastian laughed. “She’s immune alright. But yeah, she’d like you. I’ll introduce you when we’re stateside.”

  “In case you’d forgotten, I live about 3,000 miles and ten states from San Diego.”

  “Yeah, well, in case you’d forgotten, they’ve invented airplanes.”

  “Touché, Chief Hunter.”

  He smirked at me, and raised his glass of water in a toast.

  “What happened to that friend of Mitch’s – Bill – the one who was at that wretched ‘fun’ day Donna dragged me to at the beach?”

  “Why are you asking about him?”

  Sebastian frowned at me and I rolled my eyes. Surely he wasn’t still jealous because Bill had flirted with me once?

  “Just wondering: he was in your surfing crowd, wasn’t he?”

  “Oh, right,” he said, rather huffily. “He got married again a few years back, I think. He got sent to Quantico. Mitch keeps up with him – Christmas cards – something like that.”

  Thank God Bill’s story had a happy ending; I didn’t think I could take any more bad news today.

  “It felt good having you on the bike with me today, Caro,” said Sebastian, thoughtfully, as if he was testing the water before adding something more.

  “Hmm,” I said, the sound filled with skepticism.

  He laughed. “Well, I’ve had an idea about that…”

  “Oh, another of your ideas? That sounds dangerous.”

  He grinned at me, a gleam of mischief in his eye.

  “You know how we always talked about traveling through Italy? I just thought, while we’re both here, why don’t we?”

  I frowned at him, not sure I understood what he was suggesting.

  “Why don’t we what?”

  “See Italy. We could take the motorcycle and go see all those places we talked about: Milano, Verona, Capezzano Inferiore – see if your dad’s relatives still live there.”

  Oh, he’d definitely found my weak spot.

  “Don’t you have work to do?” I replied, avoiding answering the question. “How come you’ve got all this time off?”

  “I’m on leave,” he said, quietly. “I’ll be shipping back out to Afghan – in about three weeks.”

  “Oh,” I said, feeling the blood drain from my face. “I didn’t realize… I thought you were stationed in Geneva.”

  He shrugged.

  “I was, but they need interpreters, and they’re getting antsy about using locals. Too many green-on-blue attacks.” He brushed the thought away. “So, what do you think?”

  I shook my head.

  “I can’t, you know I can’t. My papers could come through any moment and I’ll be on my way out there myself. Besides,” I said, trying to lighten the moment, “three weeks with you – that’s definitely a dangerous mission.”

  “Don’t you trust me?” he said, trying and failing to look wounded.

  “No, not particularly.”

  He grinned at me, completely unabashed.

  “Oh, don’t say that. I’ll be good. Scout’s honor.”

  “You were never a boy scout.”

  “True,” he said with a smirk. “What if I promise I’ll behave myself: separate bedrooms and everything?”

  “No way, Hunter. I’ve heard about your reputation, remember? Besides, I don’t know how soon I’ll get a flight to Leatherneck. I don’t want to risk losing my slot.”

  “It won’t happen for at least two weeks.”

  I narrowed my eyes at his tone.

  “You sound very sure of that.”

  He just grinned at me.

  And then realization dawned.

  “What did you do, Hunter?”

  His grin got wider.

  “Let’s just say I know people in the right places.”

  I couldn’t believe his arrogance.

  “Are you telling me you’ve blocked my application?”

  My voice started rising, and he had the grace to look almost contrite.

  “It’s not blocked, Caro, not entirely. I… just threw a few well-aimed monkey wrenches in the works. It’ll take at least a week to sort out – probably two.”

  Unbelievable!

  Now I was really angry.

  “This is my work, Sebastian,” I said, the fury in my voice more than obvious. “This is how I get paid. How dare you interfere like this! You’re unbelievable.”

  He scowled at me.

  “You can’t butt into my life like this!” I half yelled at him. “I’m not the insipid little woman I was ten years ago!”

  “You were never that,” he said, his expression burning.

  Oh, how well I remembered that look.

  “You’d better damn well get that monkey wrench out, Hunter! I mean it.”

  He sighed, looking disappointed.

  “I can’t, Caro, it’s out of my hands now. But I promise it’s temporary. I just… after all this time… I wanted us to be able to spend more than a few hours together.” He stared at his hands. “I don’t know when I’ll see you again,” he mumbled. “I’ve already waited ten years.”

  His admission was so astonishing and he looked so miserable, that my anger began to ebb. I was still annoyed, furious at his interference in fact, but I couldn’t hold the same level of rage when he looked like that and, more importantly, once he’d explained his reason for doing it – that he still had feelings for me. But what the true nature of those feelings really was, I remained deeply unsure.

  “Will you at least think about it?” he said, softly.

  I nodded, still too angry to speak.

  I let Sebastian finish up the fondue, my appetite having vanished. He kept throwing me guilty glances, but it didn’t stop him polishing bot
h his plate and mine.

  We spent the afternoon wandering through the town, stopping to look in shops and gazing up at the stormy face of Mont Blanc.

  I was still irritated beyond tolerance with his high-handed behavior, but there was nothing I could do about it; besides I was used to waiting, and I’d waited in a lot worse places.

  “I wouldn’t mind coming back here in the winter,” said Sebastian, apparently oblivious to my irritation, “try out the snowboarding.”

  “That’s something else I’ve never done,” I muttered, trying to imagine hurtling down the steep, icy face of the lowering mountain on a piece of wood not much bigger than a skateboard.

  “I’ll teach you,” said Sebastian confidently.

  “Oh, something you can teach me, Mr. Hunter?”

  He raised an eyebrow and grinned at me.

  I glanced at my watch. “I think we should be heading back now. I can’t get a signal on my phone here. My editor might have been trying to contact me.”

  I threw him a challenging glance. Sebastian didn’t look happy, but he didn’t argue either.

  We walked back to his motorcycle and I pulled on my very lovely, and very expensive new gloves.

  Sebastian took the autoroute back to Geneva and we arrived in slightly under an hour. I didn’t like to ask what speed we’d been traveling at: one that exceeded the limit, I suspected.

  I climbed off the bike, and handed him back my helmet. He stowed it in one of the empty saddlebags and stared down at me.

  “I really enjoyed today, Sebastian. Most of it, anyway. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, Caro.”

  We stood gazing at each other. Without knowing why, I felt awkward, the tension rolling in waves between us.

  “Okay, well, thanks again,” I murmured, turning to go.

  “Can I see you tomorrow, Caro?” he said, his voice filled with intense longing. “Will you think about the Italy idea?”

  I stared at him, certain the anguish was etched on my face.

  His eyes darkened as he continued to stare at me.

  “I want to kiss you, Caro. Very badly.”

  The breath caught in my throat as he took a step towards me. I knew I wanted that, too. Very badly.

  I raised my hand to his cheek and he sighed softly as he leaned into it, closing his eyes. I ran my fingers down his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin.

  He took another step towards me, and rested his hands on my waist. I pulled his head towards me and felt his lips on mine. So soft, so sensuous. I could feel his breath stroke my face, then his lips parted and his tongue swept into my mouth.

  My God, the feelings that burned through me, scorching away every sorrow, every moment of regret. Instead, I remembered how his hands had learned every curve and hollow of my body, how our love had melded us into one, how his body had fit inside mine.

  He pressed himself into me, his mouth hungrily devouring every breath.

  “God, I want you, Caro. I want to make love to you,” he whispered on my lips.

  “Yes,” I said. “I want that, too.”

  Chapter 4

  Sebastian had to go and park his motorcycle in the hotel’s secure underground garage.

  His absence gave me ample time to consider the consequences of what I was about to do. I still wasn’t sure I trusted him; I had about a minute to decide whether or not to change my mind. But, in truth, there was no decision to make. My body ached to be touched; it had been a long time, too long perhaps, since I’d allowed a man this close to me. And the way I felt when Sebastian was near me, it was as if every nerve ending was sensitized simply by his presence. I hated it and I loved it and I hated it.

  I waited for him in the lobby, sitting on the same sofa where he’d sat last night during our fractured heart-to-heart. The receptionist’s curious gaze bounced off my back: I didn’t have room in my mind to consider anyone else at this point, and I cared even less what she thought of me, if she thought anything at all.

  And then he had returned and it was too late.

  Watching him walk through the automatic doors into the lobby was extraordinarily arousing. I longed to feel his body intertwined with mine, to feel as I had felt once before. I could see the tension and expectation on his face, and the old insecurities began to worm their way to the surface. Ten years ago, I had been the experienced one and I had led the way, even though my ‘experience’ had been limited to my uncreative husband. Sebastian’s experience, at the time, had been zero, but now… By his own admission, he had fucked every woman who’d let him. I had no doubt that his charm, superficial or otherwise, combined with his extraordinary good looks had gained him entry to a large number of bedrooms.

  By contrast, the number of men I’d slept with since him could be numbered on one hand. I was afraid he would find me… boring.

  He crossed the lobby with long strides until he was standing in front of me, searching my face. He held out his hand, and I didn’t hesitate. If it was a mistake, then it was one I made willingly.

  A relieved smile flickered briefly across his face.

  He pulled me to my feet and braided his fingers through mine, leading me towards the bank of gleaming elevators.

  All were busy, crammed with tourists returning from day trips, politicians and businessmen retiring to their suites for the evening. Sebastian and I stood off to one side, wedged among a throng of men in suits. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled my back into his chest, bending down to place soft kisses in my hair.

  Two men smiled knowingly, but Sebastian didn’t so much as glance at them.

  Several other people got off at the same floor, following us along the corridor, chatting noisily. Sebastian and I were silent.

  I pulled the keycard out of my wallet with shaking fingers, and pushed the door open. I stepped inside, my heart racing, my nerves taut. I moved around the room, turning on the side lights, pulling the curtains and shifting my laptop off the neatly made bed. In other words, doing everything rather than look at him.

  He hovered by the door for a moment, then walked in slowly and sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes following me around the room. He caught my hand as I fluttered past on another pointless circuit.

  “Hey, it’s okay. I’m nervous, too.”

  I stared at him in amazement.

  “You’re nervous… why?”

  “Because it’s you,” he said, simply.

  He raised my hand to his lips and kissed it courteously, a sweet, old-fashioned gesture.

  “Only if you want to, Caro.”

  “I do… I just feel, I don’t know, embarrassed. It’s so stupid.”

  He lay back on the bed and gently pulled me down next to him. He began kissing my throat, his hands moving up from my waist.

  I felt him everywhere, all over me, suffocating me, and I froze.

  “No, Sebastian.”

  I pushed him away, and he stopped immediately.

  I was half expecting him to get up and leave in disgust, but he surprised me again.

  Suddenly he rolled away from me to the other side of the bed.

  “Let’s just make out,” he said, grinning at me.

  “Make out? As in…”

  “Lie on the bed, watch trashy TV in French or German – your choice – and make out.”

  He raised his eyebrows as he sat up, then he shrugged out of his jacket and dropped it on the floor, unbuckled and levered his feet out of his biker boots, before peeling off his socks.

  He grabbed a couple of pillows, piled them against the headboard and launched himself back onto the bed.

  “Where’s the remote?”

  I pointed to the cabinet on my side of the bed and watched as he stretched over me to retrieve it, exposing a delicious sliver of taut, naked stomach as his T-shirt rode up his body.

  Oh, I really wanted some of that.

  He surfed through a few channels before he found some badly-dubbed TV show, then grinned up at me, patting the space on the bed
next to him.