Spirals of pleasure increased in intensity and urgency as he moved and she moved with him, sensually lifting to meet his every thrust, tilting away as he withdrew only to lift again to welcome his return.
The transition of time suspended, they were the only two people who existed. Locked in a cocoon of pleasure and need and, finally, satisfaction as they cleaved together in a joining that left them depleted yet still alive with exhilaration. Intimately locked together, Holly wrapped her arms about him as he rolled onto his side. She nestled against his chest, inhaling his male scent, committing it to memory as with a deep sense of sadness she remembered this could never last.
The persistent buzz of a telephone finally penetrated the fog that enveloped his brain. Who on earth would ring at such an hour? It couldn’t be morning yet, Connor thought irritably as he attempted to roll over. Yet his mobility was impeded by a warm, lush body curved against him, by a swathe of black hair over his shoulders and by long silky legs entwined with his. Gently he extricated himself and padded, naked, to where his suit jacket lay discarded on the plush navy carpet. He extracted his phone and flipped it open. He found the remote for the curtains and as they pulled open he stretched his back and noted the dull overcast sky.
Typical, he thought irritably. Another muggy, wet Christmas morning. Christmas morning! Remembrance dawned with sharp clarity just as his father’s voice bellowed in his ear. “Connor! You’re on your way soon, yes?” “Merry Christmas to you too, Papa.” “You’re still bringing that secretary of yours?” “Holly. Yes, I am. See you soon. Ciao, Papa.” He disconnected the call and looked across the room at the enticing sleeping form draped across his bed. What a shame he couldn’t take his time in waking her as he wanted, despite his body’s instant reaction. He shook her bare shoulder gently, enjoying watching awareness dawn in her denim-blue eyes as he chased sleep away.
“Come on, my father is expecting us and we still need to stop by your place so you can change.”
A wry smile twisted his lips as she shyly pulled the sheets about her, obscuring her breasts from view.
“Just give me a couple of minutes to gather my things.” Her voice, husky and thickened with sleep, lit a flame within him he knew only one thing could extinguish.
“Shy?” He tugged persistently at the sheet until it fell away, exposing her. Already she was like a drug invading his senses. With damning clarity he knew one night with Holly would never be enough. So what if they were late, he decided as he pushed her back against the rumpled bedclothes.
They were running more than a little late when they drove out to her home so she could change into more suitable clothing. As they turned a corner into her street, Connor managed to hide his surprise when he saw the rundown housing area that Holly had reluctantly given as her address. Sure, in a few years, developers would be renovating the old state-built houses and making a killing, but right now that future seemed a million miles, and several million dollars, away.
“You can pull in here.” She indicated a driveway on the cold, southern side of the road. Exposed as the dreary house was, it would get little natural sunlight through its tiny windows, he noted. He couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to live like this. Certainly she could do better.
“How long have you owned this place?” he probed.
“I rent.”
She chose to live here? Connor mentally reviewed the well-above-average sum he knew he paid her. Surely she could have rented somewhere more up-market. Or at the very least, he thought, as he cast a doubtful eye at the large party carrying on a few doors away where even at this hour patched gang members already spilled drunkenly onto the footpath, somewhere safer.
“I’ll only be a minute.”
“I’m coming in with you.”
“Really, it’s all right.”
“Don’t argue with me, Holly. You know you won’t win.”
Inside, the tiny house was no better. The fact she had to turn on the lights when it was only late morning spoke for itself. Naked bulbs in the ceiling fixtures cast stark light over meagre threadbare furniture. He tried not to curl his lip at the Formica-topped table and two vinyl-covered tubular steel-framed chairs standing askew on the cracked linoleum floor in the kitchen.
“Is this your furniture?” He couldn’t help but ask.
“No, I rent the place furnished. Take a seat, and I’ll get changed.”
Not that it was any of his business, but what on earth did she do with her money?
“Don’t I pay you enough?” The question dropped like a bomb in the room, and Holly halted in her tracks.
“You pay me very well.” She held herself tightly coiled, as if she was hiding something and was afraid he’d find it. It was a side of her he’d never seen before, and he didn’t like it.
“So what the hell do you do with it?” He swung out one arm, gesturing at the miserable conditions.
“Are you dissatisfied with the way I do my job?” Her voice was cold, yet vibrated with suppressed anger.
“Of course not. If I was, you’d know it.”
“I’m glad that’s settled, then. Because that’s where we begin and end. What I do with my money is my business.” With that she stalked from the room and into what he assumed was her bedroom. He could hear her moving about—slamming drawers, clattering coat hangers as if she had to vent her anger somehow.
She was right. He didn’t like it one bit, but he had no right to push. There were ways and means of getting to the bottom of this. Connor shoved his hands deep into his trouser pockets and rocked on his heels, loath to sit on the sagging sofa positioned in front of the small television.
Through the paper-thin walls, the racket from the party down the street suddenly rose in volume and foul-mouthed jeers rang out through the air against the accompaniment of shattering glass bottles.
“Holly!” he shouted. “We need to go, now.”
She reappeared in the doorway. She’d changed into smart pale-grey trousers with matching heeled sandals and a hot-pink short-sleeved blouse that lent a soft glow to her skin and served to detract from the faint shadows under her eyes. Shadows he himself had put there.
Connor urged her down the hallway. He guarded her back impatiently as she took the time to double lock and dead bolt the front door. Probably a total waste of time, he observed cynically, given the fact that it had glass panes that could easily be broken. He ushered her into the front seat of his 5-series BMW and pulled away from the driveway, the slight squeal of his tires as he planted the accelerator eliciting several one-fingered salutes from the partying throng.
Why did she live there, he asked himself again. Were there financial problems that necessitated it? Or some vice perhaps? It occurred to him that he knew very little about her at all. But whatever secrets she was hiding, he would find them out.
Holly slammed her front door closed behind her and listened as the taxi sped away up the broken-glass-littered street. The day had been interminable. The polite smiles, the conjecture Connor’s family couldn’t quite hide from their eyes.
Certainly they’d been polite and friendly, his two brothers especially so. But all the while she felt as though she was being judged—and found wanting. Maybe they’d thought he’d bring someone more like Carla—social, outgoing and supremely confident.
She’d been a cuckoo in the nest. Again. The knowledge clutched like a fist around her heart. She should be used to that by now, yet the pain still had the power to bring her to her knees. Still, she was an old hand at hiding her pain deep inside, and that’s where the memories of the past twenty-four hours would be firmly lodged.
Leaving hadn’t been as difficult as she’d expected. In the end, she’d pleaded a headache to one of Connor’s brothers and asked that he make Holly’s apologies to everyone. For some stupid, foolish reason, she’d half expected to hear Connor come after her. Why, she didn’t really know, because he’d been strategically monopolised by his father’s other guests the whole time. He certainly hadn
’t noticed when she’d slipped from the front portico of Tony Knight’s palatial Epsom home and into the waiting taxi she could ill afford.
Maybe he’d accepted that she didn’t really belong. Or maybe he’d simply had his fill of her and made his point, whatever that was, with his father. She didn’t know which hurt the most.
She dropped onto her bed, half the size of the one she’d slept in last night. The paradox was a joke—a bad one—and her hollow laugh echoed in the scantily furnished room. Deep down she had to admit that there was a tiny piece of her that still wanted the Cinderella finish—the knight in shining armour taking her to his castle to love her forever.
She gave herself a brisk mental shakedown. What had she been thinking? No, the sooner she put last night firmly in the past, where it belonged, the better. Difficult, though, when her body still hummed from the aftermath of Connor’s lovemaking this morning and tiny twinges reminded her of the unaccustomed exercise she’d indulged in. And no matter which way she looked at it, it had been an indulgence. One she couldn’t afford. After seeing him with his family, the close-knit group, the children, she’d realised with damning clarity that she’d never belong there. And nor could she when she was in no position to offer Connor what, she’d evidenced with her own observations today, he most wanted.
Children of his own.
Moping about the house wouldn’t change anything, so Holly did what she did best—got on with things. First order of the afternoon was to find where the nearest urgent pharmacy was, then she’d call and see how Andrea was doing.
Bang, bang, bang! Holly all but leapt out her skin as a fist battered at her front door. Apprehensive, given the flavour of the neighbourhood, she peeped around her doorway and down the hall to the front door. An unmistakable figure loomed through the frosted glass panes.
“Holly, open up. I know you’re in there.”
She covered the distance to the door reluctantly, taking her time to unbolt the flimsy door and swing it open. He filled the open frame like a dark avenging angel.
“You left without saying goodbye.” He stepped inside, forcing her to flatten herself against the wall to avoid contact. Her shredded nerves couldn’t take any more. “Are you okay?”
His hand lifted to her cheek. Holly flinched and pulled her head back. She couldn’t bear it if he touched her again. She was strong, but not that strong. Challenge lit his gaze as his hand dropped down to his side.
“I’m fine. I thought it was better if I didn’t make a fuss about leaving.” Her heart pounded in her chest, and she took another step back. “Look. What we did last night was crazy. I was emotional because it was my birthday and you … well, I don’t know why you wanted me, and I don’t need to know. Let’s not make life complicated by turning it into more than it was.”
“And what was it, exactly?”
“We fulfilled a need, scratched an itch if you like. That’s all.”
“An itch?” His expression was deadpan, his voice level. Cool and calm, Connor Knight was formidable, and at this minute he scared Holly far more than if he’d developed a sudden rage at her words.
“For want of a better term, yes.”
“What if I want more?”
“More?” her mouth dried and a bolt of desire shot with pulsing heat to radiate through her body. “There can be no more. It’ll make working together impossible. People will talk … your father, you know his policy on office relationships.” Frantic, Holly clutched at every reason she could—no easy feat with her mind just about fried from the dangerous heat in his coal-dark eyes.
“And that’s it.” His voice grew hard, cold.
“Yes. That’s it. We’re both adult enough to handle it, aren’t we?”
Connor stood still as a statue. Bit by bit she saw a bleak coldness quench the fire in his gaze. His lips thinned in a tight line. A taut coil of tension emanated from him like a palpable thing. Please, please, please, she begged silently. Just go! Go before I change my mind. His jaw clenched and released as if he’d been on the verge of saying something then thought the better of it.
Down the hall her phone started to ring—the shrill sound grating through the atmosphere that hung thick between them.
A shiver of fear ran the length of her spine. The only calls she ever got were from Andrea’s hospital. Something must be wrong for them to be calling now.
“I need to answer that. You can let yourself out.” She turned to walk away but his arm snaked out to halt her in her tracks. He spun her back, and suddenly she was pressed against him, her body already willingly forming to the hard lines of his.
“Just one more thing,” he growled.
Connor pinned her against the wall, pressing his lips against hers in a hard, possessive move that left her in no doubt of his anger. She pushed the flats of her hands against the wall behind her to stop herself from reaching out to touch him. Yet, despite her best intentions, she couldn’t help but respond to the commanding sweep of his tongue, and her lips parted in reluctant welcome.
The instant she surrendered, he broke away and turned to stalk down the cracked, uneven concrete path. Away from her house and away from her. Holly could only watch, helpless yet thankful he’d done so before she threw herself back at him, plastered herself against his body and begged him to stay.
Five
At the private convalescent hospital nestled quietly in vast lawns on the northern-facing slopes of one of Auckland’s prestigious suburbs, Holly brushed her foster sister’s fine hair against her pillow. It was the only thing to soothe Andrea today.
“Sorry to have disturbed your Christmas,” the nurse at the foot of the bed remarked. “She just seemed worse today. We tried earlier to get a hold of you to let you know.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” Holly answered with a worried smile. “You did the right thing to call me in.”
“I hope we didn’t interrupt anything important.”
“No,” she managed through stiffened lips, “nothing that couldn’t be left.”
“Maybe next Christmas there’ll be someone special to sweep you off your feet,” the nurse continued with a wink. “You never know just what’s around the corner.”
Heat suffused Holly’s cheeks. No, you never did know what was around the corner and that was precisely why she was never sleeping with Connor Knight again. The nurse didn’t know quite how close she’d struck to the bone. Holly smiled a brief response and put the hairbrush down, looking at Andrea’s tragically uncommunicative twitching form in the bed. She was a far cry from the exuberant adolescent who’d egged her on to believe in herself when no one else would. Fate had finally smiled on them both when they’d been placed in a home together.
While it was highly unlikely Holly carried the juvenile Huntington’s gene that slowly and painstakingly stole her dearest and closest friend from her, who knew what time bomb she could pass onto her children? And for as long as Holly was responsible for paying for Andrea’s care, she couldn’t afford the investigators necessary to try and trace her own parents.
So it was simple. No children. Ever. Andrea was far more important than anything else right now. Including Connor Knight.
Back at work just over a month later, Holly was grateful she’d had no other demands on her time. Andrea’s deterioration over the break had been marked, and Holly had been forced to request to use up the balance of her accrued leave so she could spend every available minute with her. It had taken some juggling, but Janet had happily returned early from her holidays to fill in.
The emotional demands of remaining positive for Andrea had left Holly totally wrung out by the end of each day, and now the onset of a mild yet persistent tummy bug meant that she’d have to restrict her visits until she was better again. At first she’d panicked, terrified she was pregnant, but the light period she’d had two weeks ago made that impossible. Thank God.
Holly’s feet dragged as she stepped down the corridor to her office. The poinsettias hadn’t suffered for the lack of n
atural light at her workstation, she observed ruefully. Obviously, someone had kept them watered during her extended break, although they did seem a bit washed out for colour. How symbolic, she thought, cynicism twisting her lips, just like her.
She’d lost weight and her appetite had been reduced to nil. How she’d contracted this wretched stomach bug was beyond her, although she had her suspicions about the efficiency of her ancient refrigerator, with its damaged door seal, combined with Auckland’s high summer humidity. The mix was bound to have wreaked havoc on the food she’d managed to force past her lips.
In response to the thought of food, her stomach heaved slightly. Holly took a deep levelling breath and waited for the nausea to subside.
The white poinsettia was nowhere to be seen. She supposed the cleaners must have disposed of it when they’d cleaned up the mess it had left after landing ignominiously on the carpet on Christmas Eve. That night seemed so long ago.
She hadn’t heard from Connor. He’d been away at his family’s holiday home on the Coromandel Peninsula during the two weeks immediately after Christmas, and HR had handled her request for additional time off in his absence. Even if he had tried to call her once he was back in Auckland, she’d been at the hospital most of the time, only going home to sleep late at night, then racing off early to catch the succession of buses that took her back to Andrea. Besides, it was exactly what she’d wanted. No fuss, no complications and certainly no recriminations to interfere with her ability to do her job and earn her desperately needed income.
“Good morning, Holly.”
Connor stood in the doorway to his office. It was all she could do not to jump at the sound of his voice. She hadn’t allowed herself to realise, until now, how much she’d missed the timbre of her name on his lips. How much she’d missed him.
“Good morning, Mr. Knight.”
Holly busied herself putting her handbag away and checking the papers in the in-box on the corner of her desk. She heard Connor sigh from behind her.
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