The High Price of Secrets

by Yvonne Lindsay

  Lorenzo was never far from her side, constantly on the alert for the opening of those precious windows in her mind—each one a gift beyond price. While Finn warred with Tamsyn’s right to at least see her mother, could he honestly deny Lorenzo those moments? What if seeing Tamsyn sent Ellen hurtling away into the far reaches of her dementia? Her last days would be nothing more than hours of emptiness for those who loved and cared for her. Finn couldn’t do that to another human being.

  He pulled his SUV to a halt at the end of the driveway and pulled himself together. He probably shouldn’t have accepted Tamsyn’s invitation tonight. He doubted he’d be good company, but when he’d heard her voice mail issuing the offer, he knew he couldn’t deny himself the respite of her company.

  Finn grabbed the wine carrier, with its two chilled bottles of wine nestled inside in one hand, and the bunch of tulips he’d bought at the florist’s after getting Tamsyn’s call in the other. The soft pink long-stemmed blooms reminded him of her—their exquisite smooth petals a perfect shield for their additional beauty when they opened to the sun. She was just like that. Guarded smooth walls of perfection on show to the rest of the world, and yet when she was given warmth and affection she flourished.

  He nudged the car door shut with his hip and covered the distance to the house in long strides. Now he was here, he was eager to see her again. She opened the door before he could juggle his items and knock.

  The sight of her knocked the breath clean out of his lungs. She had her hair up in some twisted knot on top of her head, exposing the slender arch of her neck and making her look divinely feminine and impossibly fragile at the same time. Every male hormone in his body rose to the occasion, making him ache to be her knight—to be that one man to protect her from all wrongdoing, from all sorrow. He swallowed hard. No woman had ever made him feel this way, so desperate to be her valiant defender. The sensation was primal and dark, yet uplifting and filled with warmth at the same time.

  “Good evening, are those for me?” she asked, reaching for the tulips that he’d forgotten the instant he’d laid eyes on her.

  “Yeah, I hope you like them.”

  “I love them, thank you so much. Come inside.”

  She stepped aside to let him in and as he walked past her he caught a whiff of her fragrance. Subtle, like her, like the way she’d inveigled her way into his psyche, the blend of sweetness and spice wound around him in a sensual spell of promise.

  “I’ll pop these in some water right away. Can I take the wine through to the kitchen for you?”

  “It’s okay, I’ll do that,” he said, still feeling a little awestruck.

  She’d done something with her makeup that made her dark eyes look huge and warm, and the fresh pink lipstick she wore made him itch to lean forward and kiss it all off. And there was something different about her tonight—a soft confidence that radiated from her. It was there in the smile in her eyes and in the way she walked. He liked it, he decided. He liked it very much.

  In the kitchen Finn automatically reached for the champagne flutes on the hutch dresser and extracted a bottle of a locally made sparkling wine. The second bottle, a sauvignon blanc, he put into the refrigerator.

  “Are we celebrating?” Tamsyn asked, noting the label on the bottle. “Oh, I’ve always wanted to try that.”

  “It’s very good. It’s been made here in Marlborough since the late 1980s. They blend seventy percent pinot noir with thirty percent chardonnay. Here,” he said, passing her a glass filled with the rapidly bubbling straw-colored liquid. “Try it.”

  “I can’t do that without a toast,” she said with a secretive smile. She raised her glass toward his. “To new friends.”

  He liked that, although right now his feelings toward Tamsyn Masters went way beyond friendly. He clinked glasses. “Indeed, to new friends.”

  Their eyes remained locked together as they sipped their wine. He’d never be able to drink it again without thinking of this moment—of her.

  “Mmm, that is lovely,” she said, flicking her tongue over her lower lip as she set her glass down on the countertop and picked up the vase of flowers. “Can you bring my wine while I take these to the sitting room?”

  Finn reached for the glass, and followed her through. She was as enticing from the rear as she’d been face on. The sway of her hips as she walked made the fabric of her skirt swing gently from side to side, caressing her thighs and the backs of her calves. He’d never been envious of a skirt before. It was a new and distinctly unfamiliar sensation.

  He could not, in all honesty, say that his growing feelings for Tamsyn were normal. Not in his experience, anyway. These feelings were consuming. Invading his concentration and disturbing his usually short but fully restful sleep at night.

  “Crudité?”

  He looked up as Tamsyn passed him a small platter decorated with vegetable sticks and one of those dips females seemed to like so much.

  “Sure,” he said, helping himself to both.

  It was tasty, the garlic and lemon tang in the hummus leaving a fresh aftertaste in his mouth. Maybe there was something to the dip after all.

  “How was your trip away?” she asked, settling herself on the sofa and slipping her feet out of her ballet slippers to tuck them up beside her.

  He took the chair opposite, not trusting himself to sit closer.

  “Ah, yeah, Wellington. It’s a beautiful city.”

  “And your business? It went well?” she continued.

  “It did.”

  “But something’s still bothering you, isn’t it? You looked…I dunno, worried, when you arrived. Is everything okay?”

  Damn, did it show that much? He decided sticking close to the truth was better than fabricating a whole bunch of lies that he might struggle to remember.

  “I spent some time visiting a good friend in the hospital. It was hard to see them so unwell.”

  “I’m really sorry to hear that,” Tamsyn said softly, her voice filled with genuine sympathy.

  “Thanks.”

  Finn took a long drink of his sparkling wine. It served as a good way to stop himself from giving her any more details about exactly who he’d been seeing. As if sensing he didn’t want to talk about it further, Tamsyn shifted the conversation to what she’d been doing the past couple of days while he’d been gone. He felt a tug of relief when he heard she had gotten no further in her search for Ellen, but that tug was tempered with a powerful sense of guilt over her very evident disappointment.

  She worked her way past it though and the conversation soon shifted to books they’d recently read. She had a very sharp wit and they enjoyed many of the same authors. By the time she served cheese and crackers and fruit back in the sitting room after dinner, Finn was feeling very relaxed. Due in part to the glasses of wine they’d shared, but mostly due to her company. He’d enjoyed entertaining her at his house a couple of nights ago, but he loved watching her in this environment too. She was more in control here, adapting this place to her own patch. Now, as they sat side by side on the sofa, he was looking forward to seeing more.

  “You never mentioned you were such a great cook,” Finn said, slicing a sliver of ripe Brie and placing it on a lightly flavored rice cracker.

  “That was the sum total of my expertise. Ooh, could you pass me one of those, please?” she said with a cheeky smile, and leaned forward to accept it from him as he changed its trajectory from his lips to hers.

  Her teeth bit into the cracker, her lips brushing the tips of his fingers just as he started to pull away. The butterfly-soft sensation of her skin on his set up a chain reaction through his body and he suddenly found himself craving the feel of her lips everywhere.

  “More?” he asked, his eyes fixed on her face as she clearly relished the morsel he’d fed her.

  “Yes, please,” she answered.
“More.”

  A tremor rippled through him. He hoped she meant what he was thinking she meant. He went through the motions again, spreading some of the ripe cheese on a cracker and taking it to her mouth. This time she lightly grasped his wrist, held his hand in front of her parted lips. When she took the cracker she lingered over the action. Her lips, this time, deliberately grazing his thumb and forefinger.

  Finn’s body went from semi-aroused and languidly comfortable, to rock hard and aching in a nanosecond. A crumb from the cracker fell to the top of the curve of her breast. All night he’d been treated to the enticing shadow of her décolletage, but now he had fair reason to explore further. Without wasting a moment, he bent his head and licked up the crumb. Beneath his mouth her skin contracted and a flush of color spread across its surface.

  She tasted like more. Like sunshine and heat and warmth and woman. He was starving—for her. He traced his tongue on her skin again, heard her moan, felt her drop her head onto the back of the sofa, exposing the tantalizing line of her throat. He welcomed the invitation and nuzzled the point where her shoulder curved up to the side of her neck and pressed his mouth into the hollow just above her collarbone.

  Her gasp of pleasure urged him on and he continued his journey up, to the fine contour of her jaw, to the corner of her lush lips. Then, finally, to capture those lips with his once more. She was no quiescent participant this time around, instead she was heat and fire all focused on that point where their bodies fused and melded.

  It wasn’t enough, it could never be enough. Finn raised shaking hands to her waist and began to tug at her top even as he felt her fingers working his shirt buttons. He yanked the stretchy material up, exposing the soft curves of her belly—the striations of her rib cage, the swell of the underside of her breasts fettered inside flimsy lace—to his ravening touch. Still, he wanted more.

  Fourteen

  Tamsyn squirmed against him, frustrated by the barriers of their clothes. She wanted to feel—him, everything—like she’d never felt before. Her fingers fumbled on his buttons and impatiently she tugged even harder, barely noticing as she ripped the remaining fastenings from the cotton of his shirt.

  Finally, she could do what she’d wanted to for what felt like so long. Her hand spread upon his heated skin, sweeping across his chest, her fingers lingering to gently pinch his nipples into even tighter nubs. In answer to her actions, she felt his teeth at her neck—a gentle-enough nip, but one that made every internal muscle in her body clench on a white-hot wave of sensation. She felt as if she could melt right here on the spot.

  Her singlet was bunched at the top of her breasts and she lifted herself forward, holding on to his torso as he pulled the garment up and over her head.

  “God, you’re so beautiful,” he groaned against her skin, his mouth hot and wet against her.

  She shifted, offering herself toward him in aching invitation. Finn continued to torment her, his tongue lightly tracing the contours of the lace of her bra. Why, oh why, had she worn one? The rasp of his teeth through the lace sent a jolt of electricity spiraling into her body. Her nipples pebbled into painfully taut beads, the texture of her bra near unbearable as she waited for his touch.

  “There, oh please, there,” she begged, threading her fingers through his short cropped hair and holding him to her.

  She felt his hand reach around behind her, felt the clasp of her bra fall undone and her flesh become exposed as he peeled the garment away. Hot breath tantalized, her heart now beating a frantic tattoo as she anticipated what came next. She wasn’t disappointed. Closing over her peak, he drew her into his mouth, his tongue drawing her in deep, his teeth a gentle scrape against oversensitized skin.

  Something pulled deep inside her, as if the two most sensitive parts of her body were joined by one glorious shimmering thread.

  Finn shifted his attention to her other breast, eliciting the same penetrating response. She was panting, her mind fracturing as sensation after sensation poured through her body. He pulled away from her and she murmured in protest, her hands reaching for him.

  “Let’s take this to the bedroom,” he said, his voice uneven.

  He rose to his feet and offered her his hand to help her up. She was grateful to him for that as her legs felt like water, almost incapable of holding her up. As if he knew, he swept one arm behind her back, the other behind her knees, and lifted her into his arms. Instinctively she burrowed her face in his chest. Her lips caressing the smooth skin, her hands now clasped around his neck.

  “Which one?” he asked, his breathing barely changing as he carried her.

  “Second on the right,” she whispered.

  When they reached the door, he slid her to her feet, stabilizing her with his solid presence. She reached up, cupping his face between her hands and, going up on tiptoe, she kissed him—long and deep, leaving him in no doubt that she wanted every second of what was yet to come.

  Outside it was growing dark and she pulled away to close the bedroom drapes. Even though there was no chance anyone could see them from the roadside, she wanted to close them in, to cocoon them in their own little world. He sat on the bed and toed off his loafers and shed his socks as she moved around, lighting the candles she’d placed throughout the room—just in case tonight would end this way.

  “Come here,” Finn said as he sat with his legs spread wide on the edge of the bed.

  Tamsyn moved between them, resting her hands on his shoulders. He flicked one nipple lightly with the tip of his finger.

  “A man could be forgiven for thinking he’s being seduced,” he said with a knowing smile.

  “A man could,” she agreed with a laugh, loving that even as her body wound tight as a drum, they could still find humor in their situation.

  “Should I be asking what your intentions are?”

  “Only if you’re man enough to hear them,” she teased, lifting her hands up to pull the pins from her hair, one by one, until it tumbled over her bare shoulder, tendrils teasing her breasts.

  She reached behind her to unzip her skirt, let it drop in a cascade of color and softness and kicked it away from her feet. Finn’s eyes roamed her body as she stood there, dressed only in a scrap of café au lait–colored lace and satin. The appreciation, the marvel on his face gave her a strength she’d never known she was capable of possessing.

  Emboldened, Tamsyn skimmed her hands over her belly and up over her rib cage, until she cupped her breasts in both hands. His eyes darkened, his tongue swept out to moisten his lips and she saw a tremor rock through him as she squeezed her nipples between thumbs and forefingers. Moisture pooled, hot and slick, at the apex of her thighs—a steady throb building there as she tweaked and pulled, caught in the spotlight of his stare.

  Finn’s hands went to the belt of his jeans, making fast—if unsteady—work of the buckle.

  “Too damn many clothes,” he said through clenched teeth, his eyes never straying from her body.

  In seconds he had unbuttoned his fly and shoved his jeans and boxers down over his hips. His erection sprang free, the rigid flesh jutting proudly from a nest of dark curls.

  “Man enough for you?” he asked, a tiny smile playing around his lips.

  She smiled in return, moving forward to straddle his thighs, her hands at his shoulders. She felt his length twitch against her.

  “Oh, I think you’ll do,” she answered, shifting so she could reach one hand between them.

  She wrapped her fingers around the thick, hot shaft and stroked him from base to tip, then shifted slightly so she could reach the small box she’d secreted under her pillow after remaking her bed today. “I think we need to move on to the next step.”

  “I think you’re right and I see you’re prepared.”

  She tapped herself on the chest with one finger. “Event manager, I’m always prepared
.”

  He started to speak, but his words were lost on a hiss of air as she began to apply a condom, adroitly smoothing the thin sheath over his penis.

  “I’m an event?” he asked, keeping things light even though his voice was strained.

  “No,” she corrected him, moving her hips so he was positioned at her entrance. “We are.”

  Banter ceased the instant she began to slide down, to accept him into her body. Tiny shocks zapped her as her muscles accommodated his size. She moaned in pleasure, unable to hold back as he filled her, stretched her, completed her. Finn’s hands gripped her hips and he lifted her slowly, hesitating for what felt like an aeon before inching her down again.

  She gripped his shoulders as they found their rhythm, then increased in tempo, spiraling into a cacophony of sensation. Until they peaked together in a penetrating awareness of pleasure that swamped them in forceful waves.

  Finn fell back onto the bed, pulling her on top of him. Beneath her cheek she could feel his heart hammering in his chest, feel the answering thud of her own. One of his hands traced up and down her spine, while the other held her firmly to him, anchored at the hip as if he couldn’t bear to let her go. She could still feel his pulse inside her, felt the answering squeeze of her own.

  “As events go, I’d say that was a resounding success,” he said against the top of her head.

  She chuckled, filled with a sensation of well-being. She’d never had a relationship like this, one where you could banter and have mind-blowing sex at the same time.

  “I’d have to agree,” she said, lifting her head and nipping at his chin.

  He rolled to the side, finally allowing their bodies to disengage. “Let me get rid of this, I’ll be right back.”

  She watched his taut buttocks and long legs appreciatively as he stepped across the hall to the bathroom and stretched languorously across the bed. She ought to move, to pull the covers down and make the bed comfortable for them both. Unless, now that they’d made love, he planned to leave?