[4 Seasons 01] Seducing Summer

by Serenity Woods

“I did it. Don’t worry.”

  “Oh. Thanks.” She watched him for a moment. “What are you reading?” she asked.

  “A thriller.”

  “By whom?”

  He sighed. “John Grisham.”

  “I love Grisham. I read The Runaway Jury and got hooked after that.”

  “Yeah, I liked the theme of that one, stitching up the tobacco firm.”

  “Do you mainly read thrillers?”

  “Mostly, but I’ll read anything.”

  “I like psychological thrillers, mainly.” She watched him lower the iPad to his lap, but didn’t comment. “And detective stories. Things I have to puzzle out.”

  “That makes sense. I bet you love Sherlock Holmes.” He smiled.

  “I do! Conan Doyle rules. And I love Cumberbatch’s portrayal of him. Have you seen the Sherlock series?”

  “I have. All of them. And the movies.” He tucked his iPad back into the pocket of the seat.

  So, he was comfortable talking about some of his interests. “I’d die without my TV,” she admitted. “I don’t sit in front of it all the time, but I do love movies and series especially. I’ve been watching Game of Thrones, and Mad Men, and a Danish thriller called The Bridge.”

  “I’ve seen it. Thought it was brilliant.”

  They continued to talk for a while about movies and series, then moved on to music. He didn’t volunteer much about himself and she had to pry most of it out of him, but it was a start, anyway.

  They stopped while the flight attendant topped up their coffee cups, and they each accepted a cookie in a packet.

  “So why are you single?” Gene asked out of the blue. He opened his packet and took a bite out of the cookie.

  “Oh, so you won’t tell me anything about yourself, but I’m supposed to tell you my life story?”

  He grinned, apparently having warmed up a little after their conversation. “Fair enough.”

  “Ah, well, the difference between us is that I don’t mind revealing a little of myself.”

  His eyebrows rose.

  “I meant I don’t mind revealing some details about my life. I’m not about to strip for you on the plane.”

  “I didn’t say a word.”

  “You didn’t have to.” She suppressed an inner shiver at the mischievous smile that curved his lips for a moment. Beneath the somber exterior was a rather naughty man, she was beginning to suspect. What fun. It would be interesting to see if he made more of an appearance over the next few weeks.

  She nibbled at her cookie. “I was living with a guy up until about four months ago.”

  “Oh?”

  “His name’s Jamie. He works at Te Papa—he’s a historian, and he acquires artifacts for the museum.”

  “Sounds like a good job.”

  “Yeah. We dated for a few years, then finally decided to move in together at the beginning of last year. I thought it was going well, and then…”

  Suddenly, the cookie stuck in her throat, and she had trouble swallowing. Why was she telling Gene about this? She didn’t like talking about Jamie to anyone, not even Neve and the others, although maybe that was worse because they’d known him. Their comments when she’d broken up with him had told her that they had seen right through him in a way she’d been blind to while she was living with him.

  She’d finished her coffee, and so she accepted Gene’s cup gratefully when he held it out to her, and drank until she’d dislodged the lump in her throat.

  “Sorry.” She handed him back the cup. “I keep thinking I’m over him, and then I realize I’m not quite there yet.”

  She waited for him to say, You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, or something similar to put her off showing emotion, because he didn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d be comfortable with a blubbering girl.

  “What happened?” he asked. He frowned, concerned, and his eyes were gentle. He wouldn’t make fun of her.

  “I came home early from work one day and found him in bed with his secretary.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Yeah. It would have been shocking even if we hadn’t been getting on, but I hadn’t suspected anything at all. I thought we were doing well, that he loved me. I was half-expecting him to propose.” Shame filled her, and she concentrated on lifting her tray and fixing it with the latch to the seat in front. “I felt such an idiot. Still do.”

  Tears pricked her eyes, and her throat tightened again. She clenched her jaw. She wasn’t going to cry, not on the plane, not in front of Gene, not ever again about Jamie.

  They fell quiet for a moment while she struggled with her emotion. Music was playing in the plane, mixed with the hum of conversation, but she felt as if the two of them were in a bubble, isolated from everyone else. Gene’s quiet manner was oddly soothing, like Aloe vera for her soul.

  After a while, he shifted in his seat. “Angela,” he said.

  “What?”

  “That was her name. My ex.”

  Callie held her breath for a moment. She sensed this was very unusual for him, to talk about himself. “Oh.”

  “I met her about a year after I came out of the Army. We lived together for a few years. But… it didn’t work out.”

  “Why not?” she prodded gently.

  He swirled what was left of his coffee in his cup. “She felt I wasn’t fully committed to the relationship.”

  “Did you cheat on her?”

  He looked startled. “No! Of course not.” He blinked a few times, the hard look in his eyes disappearing, as if he’d realized that although the accusation might have sounded insulting, Callie’s experience had led her to jump to that conclusion. “I wouldn’t do that,” he said.

  She was certain that this upright, honorable soldier wouldn’t, but then she’d been wrong before, and no longer felt she could trust her own judgement where men were concerned. “So why did she think you weren’t fully committed?”

  “Women like to talk,” he said, and smiled. “And I was worse than I am now.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah. She felt I was hiding something.”

  “Were you?”

  He hesitated. “I wasn’t keeping terrible, dark secrets from her. But I didn’t see why I had to explain every thought that passed through my head. Some memories, or feelings, are private, upsetting, or traumatic. Why should I want to share those?”

  “If you didn’t want to, it’s a shame she pushed you. Everyone is entitled to their privacy. But it’s a natural fear that if your partner’s keeping quiet, he or she is hiding something.”

  “I guess.”

  “So you broke up?”

  “I could feel the relationship crumbling around me like a Roman wall. I didn’t want to break up with her, but I couldn’t seem to do anything about it. I couldn’t be what she wanted. Eventually, she said it was over and moved out.” He sipped his coffee.

  “Do you see a therapist?” Callie asked.

  His eyebrows lifted. “About Angela?”

  “About the war. About what happened to you.” She gestured at his hip. Most of the time, his limp was unnoticeable, but occasionally he moved stiffly, as though it pained him.

  “No,” he said. “And I don’t want to.”

  “Fair enough. But sometimes shining a light in those deep recesses of the mind can banish the shadows. Fears are like mushrooms—they only grow in the dark.”

  His lips curved up. They studied each other for a moment.

  “I’m sorry your ex cheated on you,” he said. “I don’t even know the guy and I want to smash his face in.”

  “Aw. Thanks.” She liked his protective streak. Kind of like a big brother.

  Except she was certain that if he was her brother, she wouldn’t be thinking about kissing him all the time. The more she was with this guy, the more she liked him. How was she going to cope spending two weeks with him glued to her side?

  The flight attendant was coming toward them to collect their rubbish, so she gathered h
er cup and serviettes and sugar packets together, then promptly dropped them, scattering grains of sugar across her skirt.

  “Jeez.” She scrambled to pick them up.

  “Are you normally this clumsy?” he asked, amused, before raising his coffee cup to his lips to drain it.

  “It’s probably orgasm deprivation,” she said with exasperation. “It’s making me jittery.”

  Gene coughed into his coffee cup, spilling some of it over his hand.

  “Want a bib?” she said.

  He wiped his bottom lip and then his hand, checked that the person sitting beside him was still wearing his earphones, and glanced at her. “Do you always say what’s on your mind?”

  “Do you ever say what’s on yours?”

  He grinned, his eyes crinkling at the edges, and Callie melted a little. He was opening up to her, a bit, revealing a glimmer of the man inside, like cracking open a chest at the bottom of the ocean and seeing the glint of gold doubloons in the dark. She couldn’t wait to see what other treasure lay within.

  Chapter Seven

  Dunedin was cooler than Wellington, although the cloud-free sky shone a brilliant blue. After arriving at the airport, they collected their bags and picked up the hire car, a blue Toyota Corolla that Gene was relieved was comfortable to drive, as they wouldn’t be giving it back until they reached Wellington, nearly four hundred miles away. He’d booked it on Friday, because Becky had made a note that Callie would forget, which indeed she had.

  They were going to spend a night in Dunedin, then drive up the coast via Oamaru, Timaru, and Ashburton to Christchurch, checking out the high street stores on the way. At Christchurch, they would stay two nights because Callie had hopes that a few shops would stock their brand there. After that, they were going to drive through Kaikoura, where people went to see the whales and dolphins, to Blenheim, center of the South Island’s wine country, and then the sunny town of Nelson, before returning to Wellington for Willow’s baby shower. The following week, they would head north and tour the major cities of the North Island until they reached Kerikeri in the Bay of Islands, where they’d fly back down.

  “I feel knackered already.” Gene glanced at the map of New Zealand on Callie’s knees as he took State Highway One to Dunedin town center, noting the marked route across the country and all the circled towns, presumably organized by Becky.

  “Don’t worry, I have plenty of stamina. I can keep going for hours.”

  He raised his gaze to her face, but she was concentrating on the map. Had she meant that to sound as suggestive as it had sounded? Or was it just his sex-starved brain trying desperately to join the dots?

  He looked back at the road, stifling a sigh. He should have insisted to Phoebe that one of his operatives take his place. The next few weeks were going to be torture, and not only because every time he looked at Callie, he wanted to kiss her. There was something about her that managed to cajole details out of him, like wheedling a whelk out of its shell. Normally, he never revealed details about himself to a client, but it seemed rude not to answer her questions. And she had an uncanny ability to analyze everything that came out of his mouth. How he said things, and even what he didn’t say, seemed to tell her as much about him as the actual words, which was rather unnerving. But the main problem was definitely going to be the fact that he found her attractive.

  Okay, so that was a massive understatement. Callie Summer was like a cool glass of lager on a hot day, or a fillet steak when a guy was really, really hungry. It was all he could do not to salivate when he looked at her. From her shiny blonde hair that always looked just-washed, to her generous breasts he was desperate to weigh in his palms, to her wide blue eyes that gave him the shivers, to the plump lips he wanted to kiss to see whether they were as soft as they looked… He’d not met a woman for a long time that he hungered for so badly, and that he couldn’t have.

  It was the story of his life. He felt as if everything he’d ever wanted had been placed on too high a shelf, just out of reach.

  The therapist he’d seen when he first came out of the Army had told him he set his sights too high, which was why he was always disappointed. Am I asking for the moon? he’d snapped at her. What did he want that was so incredibly ambitious? Some would say that a father’s approval, a mother to love him, a supportive brother, a partner who loved him the way he was, a career that didn’t end in near death, and friends who managed to reach the age of forty wasn’t particularly ambitious.

  Or maybe it was. Many people weren’t lucky enough to have all those things, he was sure. But he couldn’t stop wanting them, even if he was shooting for the stars.

  He gripped hold of the steering wheel and glared at the road. He wasn’t going to think about the past now, about all the things he’d lost. And he wasn’t going to let a surge of hormones deter him from his task. He was a grown man, not a teenage boy. Desire was all in the mind, and God knew he’d learned to deal with not thinking about certain things for a while now. He’d trained his brain to sidestep memories and triggers that evoked emotions he no longer wished to feel. He could damned well add lust to the list and put thoughts of Callie Summer to the attic of his mind in a dusty old chest where they belonged.

  “Have you been to Dunedin before?” Callie’s gentle voice stirred him from his dark thoughts.

  He glanced at her. She was watching him, and something in her eyes told him she was perfectly aware of the gloomy path he’d been heading toward, and she was attempting to distract him away from it.

  Half of him resented her for being so astute—it was intrusive, and he didn’t like being so transparent. But the other half felt a surprising lift of heart at the fact that she’d noticed but had been nice enough not to ask him directly about what was bothering him, because she knew he didn’t like to talk about himself.

  Forcing himself to loosen his grip on the wheel, he took a deep breath and released it slowly before answering. “Yes, a few years ago, though.” He’d done the training course to become a protection officer there. “You?”

  “Once, although the same as you, many years ago. I’m looking forward to it. I mean, I know we won’t get to see much of the city in one day, but even the road in is gorgeous.”

  Her eyes were alight with excitement, and warmth spread through him at her enthusiasm. She had such a ready smile. It had upset him when she’d talked about her ex and had gotten all emotional. He hadn’t found out as much as he’d hoped because he’d distracted her by talking about himself. Did she still see the guy? Did she still have feelings for him? He wanted to know, but now wasn’t the time to bring it up.

  He also found it strange that she seemed so unaffected by the fact that she’d had death threats. Clearly, she hadn’t taken them seriously, and that wasn’t good, because it meant she might take unnecessary risks and put herself in danger. He would have to work hard to ensure that didn’t happen.

  “So what’s the plan?” Callie asked.

  Becky had stated on her instructions that he would have to arrange their itinerary, because otherwise Callie wouldn’t allow them enough time to get from one appointment to another, and she’d forget about lunch, and then suddenly realize they didn’t have a hotel room booked for the night.

  He glanced at the clock on the dashboard. “It’s nearly eleven thirty. We’ll head straight to the first appointment with Hollywell’s at twelve. You said each one will probably take around thirty minutes, but I’ve allowed plenty of time so you don’t get stressed if one runs over. After Hollywell’s, we’ll probably catch some lunch, then go to Fernz for appointment number two at two thirty. We can check in at the hotel and leave our bags there afterward, and head off for Lingerie Plus at three thirty. Onto JimJam’s at four thirty. Then we’re done, so we can return to the hotel for the evening.”

  “Wow. I’m impressed.”

  “Army life,” he said. “Forces you to get organized.”

  “Forces. Nice pun.” She grinned.

  He smiled. They were in
the city center now. Following the GPS, he took the road to the first high street store, turned off the State Highway into Stuart Street, and headed for the Octagon. “Well, I hope I’ve planned it all okay.”

  “Gene, whatever happens, you’ll have done a hundred times better than I would have done.”

  “Why are you so disorganized?”

  “I’ve worked very hard to maintain this level of incompetence, I’ll have you know.”

  “It makes things much easier when everything’s in order.”

  “Sir, yes sir.” She saluted him.

  He rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

  She turned her gaze out of the window. “I don’t like having my life planned out. Where’s the fun in that?”

  “So what would you have done if we’d landed here and you’d forgotten to book a car?”

  “One of the firms would have had a spare one somewhere.”

  “And if they hadn’t?”

  “I’d have gotten a taxi. Or hitched. Come on, don’t you think there’s some excitement in not knowing what’s going to happen?” She turned her bright gaze back to him.

  “I don’t know. There’s not a lot of room for impulsiveness in my world.” That was an understatement, to say the least. Being in the Army and then working in security meant that his life had revolved around timetables and structure for longer than he cared to remember. In his world, trains always ran on time, meetings occurred dead on the hour, and he was never, ever late. And he liked it that way. Not knowing what was going to happen made him uneasy and edgy.

  “How dull.” Her lips twitched.

  “I am dull. Very boring and predictable.” He turned into Princes Street and began looking for the store.

  “Hmm. We’ll have to see what we can do to loosen you up.”

  He glanced across at her. The look in her eyes sent a shiver running down his back as if she’d dropped an ice cube there.

  “Don’t even think about it,” he warned before he could think better of it. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he realized he’d opened a can of very wriggly worms.

  Her smile widened. “Is that a challenge?”