by Ally Blake
And then it hit her. “You asked Faith to call. To casually let slip you were coming alone.”
He looked over her shoulder a moment, before his eyes slanted back to hers. “I figured what’s the good of having bumptious sisters who won’t butt out of my affairs unless I use them for my own nefarious purposes?”
The sun created a halo around his golden head, leaving his eyes dark smudges in his perfectly carved face. But there was no mistaking the glint, the gleam, the need, want, desire, all shifting below the surface.
“Considering how we left things, I wasn’t sure you’d have listened to me.”
“I’d have listened, and I’d have come.” Saskia grabbed a hold of his lapels and gave the big guy a shake. “And not because of any contract. Just because you asked.”
While she still held his jacket so tight, not wanting to let him go ever, Nate lifted a hand. It was millimetres from her cheek, a whisper from her skin, when Mae came barrelling up.
“My God, you two look gorgeous. Don’t they look gorgeous?” she said to no one in particular. “I just want to stick you on top of my cake and eat you with a spoon. Later, though. It’s all about to begin. If you want to join the crowd over there somewhere I’m about to marry the man of my dreams!”
With that she skipped away, her red hair a riot against the blue sky.
Saskia looked back at Nate to find him watching her, his gaze intent, as if his eyes had never left her. “This isn’t a dream,” he said. “You’re really here.”
Happiness tugged at her belly and her heart felt too big for her chest. “I’m really here.”
“And you do look gorgeous. Beyond gorgeous. In fact—” He lifted his trouser leg to reveal two pairs of socks. “In preparation for having one pair knocked off.”
Saskia laughed, the sound floating away on the sea air. “You were confident I’d come!”
“Hopeful,” he said, his hand finally landing on her cheek with such care and affection she leant into his touch, into him.
“To hell with it,” he growled, enfolding her hand in his and leading her up the beach and up a grassy sandbank behind a bright blue beach hut with a red roof. He turned her to face him and said, “I drove for an hour to go to a shop to buy stuff to make me smell like the milk of a goat. Washed myself in the stuff for days. Because I missed your scent. I missed you. When what I really should have done is this.”
And then he kissed her. Hauling her in tight and drinking her in like a drowning man. Only she was the one drowning. In lush waves of pleasure that swirled behind her eyelids like a kaleidoscope of colour and pulsed through her veins all the way to her toes.
When the kiss softened, slowed, till its sweetness nearly broke her apart, Saskia dropped her head to lean her forehead against the solid wall of his chest, the not so steady beat of his heart mirroring the not so steady beat of her own.
“I’m sorry about the other day,” she said. “I was in a messy head space—lots of thoughts clashing. And it’s not your fault I fell in love with you. You were very clear about what you wanted. I was the one who stepped outside the rules of the game.”
“You what?” His hands went to her cheeks, lifting her face to look into his.
“Stepped outside—”
“The other bit.”
She swallowed, thought one last time about feigning amnesia then squared her shoulders and looked him right in the eye. She saw so much possibility and potential in him, in her life with him, and it was too amazing to resist.
“I’m in love with you.”
Saskia’s mouth fell open. It had been Nate who’d spoken. Nate who now had his hands on her upper arms as if he’d sensed her knees had given way.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Not so much.”
Looking around, he found a park bench tucked into a private copse of rough-leaved trees on the edge of the beach, and paid the skateboarders perched thereupon a bunch of notes to rack off.
“You love me?” Saskia said as she sank to the bench, the words thick and unfamiliar on her tongue.
“Yeah,” said Nate as he perched on the edge of the seat beside her, “I do.”
A glance her way, then he ran a hand up the back of his head. But not in a frustrated way—more in a chagrined way. As if he knew he should have said so a hell of a lot sooner. Then his hand fell to hers, wrapping it tight.
“Saskia, I was living in a tunnel, with no light at the end. Then you came along, and suddenly I noticed when I could smell fresh air, when I felt sunshine. I began to notice the stars and the ground at my feet. You, Saskia Bloom, are my earth.”
So much emotion swelled inside her there were no words. Just feelings. So many wonderful, tumbling impossibly beautiful feelings. And the knowledge that she held Nate’s heart in the palm of her hand. She knew then that she’d take better care of it than she had of anything else her whole life.
“Before I met you,” Saskia said, turning to bump knees, to slide a hand onto his smooth cheek, to look deep into his spellbinding eyes, “I was like a mouse spinning on a wheel—fully expecting to reach my desired destination so long as I kept going in the same direction. And then along came you. You showed me another way.” She ran a hand through his hair, smiling when the wind took over, ruffling it just a tad. “I’m not sure what I was ever so afraid of.”
“Me either.”
“This, perhaps?” she asked, sliding her arms around his waist.
“Not so scary.”
“How about this?” she said, sliding her hand over his shoulder as she straddled him. Light played through the trees above, shadows dappling eyes not able to hold back the gleam.
His hands went straight to her backside, held on. “Nope. Not that. How about this for scary: I choose you, Saskia Bloom. If you’ll have me.”
Scary? Try the very meaning of perfection!
“I’ll have you, Nate Mackenzie. And have you and have you and have you.”
She dipped her head to kiss him. Shock and awe subsided as he kissed her back tenderly, surely, ravishingly. Her very own big, beautiful, sweet, kind, bold master of the universe.
The hum of music rolled over the sandbank and skimmed the edges of Saskia’s love-drenched mind. A grunge version of “Wishing and Hoping.”
It was Nate who pulled away and said, “Is that...?”
Her ears pricked up. “The band from The Cave!”
“Mae is a crazy woman.”
“I like her.”
“Yeah,” Nate drawled. “I can’t quite believe it, but I do too. Meaning we’d better go do this thing.”
Nate lifted her off his lap, placed her gently on the sandy grass and helped her back into her shoes. Then, standing, he put the silver bag in one of Saskia’s hands and wrapped his arm about her waist, snuggled her in against his side.
When they hit the beach Saskia marvelled at the crisp, perfect blue of the sky, at the sweet fluffy white of the clouds, at the way the sand sparkled like glitter, and asked the one question she’d wanted an answer to that she hadn’t put in her dossier.
“Why did you choose me?” Saskia asked. “From the site, I mean.”
“The urge to know what retro grunge meant.” He waved a hand at the band rocking barefoot by the waves. “That and the fact you had the sexiest eyes I’d ever seen, the sweetest mouth, the most incongruous hat...”
He leaned down to brush a kiss against her mouth and soon Saskia thought breathing was overrated.
They pulled up at the back of the group, and Nate waited until Mae had skipped down the makeshift aisle before asking, “So why did you choose me?”
Saskia almost laughed out loud before she realised he was serious. Sweet man. “Oh. Well, I near didn’t. Don’t get me wrong—you were adorable. Got me all tingly with one photo. But you looked so u
ptight.” She looked at him now, pink-cheeked from the wind, hair ruffled, tie askew from her ministrations. Yeah, she thought, he so needed me. “The only thing that made me think we might have anything in common was that Catch-22 is your favourite book.”
Nate looked at her blankly.
“You said so. In your profile.”
“I did?”
“It’s not?”
“I work a lot. I don’t have much time to read.”
“Ha! And to think that tipped the odds in your favour. Imagine if you’d gone for Valley of the Dolls. Or Spot Goes to the Park. Twilight. Ooh, now that would have brought you a whole other type of woman calling.”
Nate’s warm, strong, insistent arm around her waist tightened, his fingers sinking into the flesh at her waist in warning. As warnings went, it only made her want to ramp things up.
Until he looked deep into her eyes and said, “I don’t want another type of woman.”
Saskia’s breath left her lungs in a whoosh. “Do you always know the exact right thing to say?”
“Famously.” He grinned, and his charm beamed across the beach till it outshone the sun. “You’d better get used to it.”
He planted a kiss on her mouth, sealing the deal.
As heat blossomed inside her Saskia had a funny feeling she’d never get used to Nate. His kindness and his ambition. His loyalty and resolve. His easy smile and deep convictions. His hot touch and the love that blazed in his eyes.
When Gabe noticed they were behind him he made space and smiled at them in a way Saskia was only just beginning to understand. She looked at Nate to find he was watching her.
Love you, he mouthed.
She snuck in a kiss in response, and it occurred to her she’d found her love formula after all. It was as beautifully simple as all the best formulas: Find someone you love who loves you right back.
Then, as Mae married Clint on that windy sunny beach, Saskia lifted her face to the dappled sun and breathed deep of the sea air, her heart filled with such light, such happiness, she wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to either.
Though she was going to have a damn fine time trying.
EPILOGUE
Nate caught the toast as it popped out of Saskia’s ancient second-hand toaster. He knew what to give her for Christmas. Or maybe he’d just bring his own top-of-the-range one over. He spent most nights at hers, after all. Her espresso machine was a thing of the gods.
But it was more than that. Something about the hot little fireplace and the riot of colour, and the over-soft bed it was simply too difficult to get out of in the morning—especially when it was filled with warm, sleepy Saskia. It was a combination far more him than a fake rhino head on the bathroom wall and stuffy leather.
He lathered the hot bread in chocolate spread, popped a corner and threw it over his shoulder, unsurprised when it didn’t hit the floor. The thump of Ernest’s tail was as good as asking for more.
“Enough,” he said, attempting Saskia’s stern but loving tone. Ernest just looked at him as if he was kidding. He threw the dog another corner and took off before the canine had the chance to point those big glistening eyes his way.
Saskia looked up from her computer and smiled. Nate’s heart squeezed in his chest. It happened every time he laid eyes on her, and yet he found he couldn’t get used to it. Hoped he never would.
He pressed a kiss to her waiting mouth. Her willing heat was no surprise. “I’m off.”
“Gabe and Paige are coming for dinner.”
“Am I invited?”
She rolled her eyes. “You kidding? You practically live here. I should start charging rent. Or maybe you can just bring your toaster over as a down payment. Mine’s on its last legs.”
It was a done deal. He perched on the edge of her desk. “Should I consider this the start of negotiations?”
“Sure,” she said, her mouth kicking up at one corner. “If that floats your boat.”
He pulled her out of her chair and into his arms. “You float my boat, Saskia Bloom.”
When she’d caught her breath, she said, “Lucky, because you float mine.” Her sultry eyes darkened as she leant in for another kiss. Soft, sweet, and soon rocketing into something scorching.
Nate pulled away with a groan. “I have to go. Promised Gabe I’d tag-team. New investment prospect has him in a lather.”
Not trusting himself, or her, he pressed her back into her chair. Her feet were tucked instantly up under her, and she snuck a pencil between her teeth. So damn cute, he thought. And sexy and smart and sweet and stubborn. All must-have traits on his new list for the woman in his life.
She grinned around the pencil and began to swivel her chair back and forth, her knees rubbing against his. Lucky he had a car coming for him in five minutes. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to drive in his current state.
As he turned to leave she grabbed him by the sleeve of his shirt, her hand curling around his wrist, sending shards of heat up his arm. To think this hot little gamine creature was his. All his.
He already knew he was never letting her go again.
He’d tell her so later, when she was naked in his arms. Trapped. She tended to be more amenable, less stubborn, after he’d loved her into a pile of molten limbs.
“New gig’s just come in,” she said, pointing the pencil at her flash new computer monitor.
Completely unable to help himself, he leaned over her, sucking in lungs full of her soft morning scent as he looked at the screen. “What am I looking at?”
“Pegasus Motors have taken us on to do a series of infographics. For starters it seems I’m going to have to test-drive their entire range of sports models. You can come along if you like.”
“I knew there was a reason I loved you.”
“Just one.”
“Okay, two. Maybe three.”
One last kiss, he told himself as her hand snuck around his neck and pulled his mouth to hers.
Three quarters of an hour later he zipped his pants and made a run for the door, cold toast between his teeth, Saskia’s old copy of Catch-22 under his arm for the car ride, and ignoring the constant buzzing of his phone.
He told himself Gabe would have to wait.
Hell, the whole world could wait for all he cared.
A man had to have his priorities straight, after all.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from All Bets Are On by Charlotte Phillips.
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ONE
Alice Ford opened the top drawer of the spare desk in the office, searched for a pen and found a bombshell.
With her temper tested because her entire team was late back from lunch, she was relegated to answering the telephone when she should at this very moment be leading a meeting on how to move forward with the biggest account Innova Brand Management had yet won.
Add to that the absence of her own work station with its colour-coordinated filing system, pen pot, To-Do list and diary managing every moment of her day. This desk was a paper-strewn, disorganised mess from hell, used as a d
umping ground for filing by everyone else in the place. Not a pen in sight, hence the need to claw through goodness knew what in the rubbish-filled drawers just so she could note down a phone message. There were crumbs under her fingernails. Bleurgh. And then exasperation spilled over as she looked in disbelief at the crumpled sheet of paper in her hands.
An innocent-at-first-glance grid. Columns filled out with the names of colleagues, amounts of money. Understanding kicked in, swiftly followed by irritation. Why was she even surprised?
Yet another office betting ring.
Seriously, what was it going to take to instil a proper work ethic into these people? Leading by example clearly wasn’t enough. She ran a sensibly short and neutrally lacquered nail down the list of names. The whole office wasn’t here, not by a long stretch, but all the usual suspects were. Exclusively male. Obviously feeling the need to confirm their masculinity by indulging in this kind of primitive-caveman pastime.
She wondered what it was this time. Maybe something to do with Roger from Accounts—she’d heard he was giving up smoking again. Too much to hope that it might be in aid of a charitable cause.
Then she caught sight of the few sentences at the top of the page and sudden cold horror flushed through her, accompanied by the disorienting sick sensation of sliding backwards in time. The heat of humiliation rose in her cheeks.
‘Who can land Ice-Queen Ford? Proof required. In event of a tie, cash prize to be split equally.’
Alice swallowed hard and dug her nails hard into her palms until the prick of furious tears at the back of her throat subsided. Two things were clear:
Her male colleagues were betting on the dismal state of her love life, staking money on who could successfully have a crack at her.
The reputation she’d thought she held here was non-existent.
Far from being perceived as someone to look up to, she was apparently viewed as a dried-up frigid old spinster, enough of a challenge to wager money on, the perfect butt of a joke. Proof required? What the hell would that consist of? An item of underwear?