[4 Seasons 01] Seducing Summer

by Serenity Woods

“Fuck, no. I meant…” What had he meant? His brain scrambled like cooked eggs at the suggestive look in her eyes. He was only barely keeping this together by repeatedly telling himself it was a bad idea to get involved with her, and that if he kept his cool, she would never be aware of his interest. What the fuck was he going to do if she started coming on to him?

  Her smile faded. “There’s no need to look so alarmed. I’m not a bunny boiler. I’m teasing you, that’s all.”

  But he could see the hurt in her eyes. She thought he didn’t find her attractive.

  Jeez.

  “Callie…” His words trailed off as he saw the sign for Hollywell’s clothing store ahead. He concentrated on the road for a moment, turning the car into a car park and finding a spot. He switched off the engine, then turned to face her.

  “You don’t have to say anything. I was teasing,” she said, a little flatly.

  Hating that he’d unerringly knocked her confidence after her recent rejection by her ex, Gene met her eyes, and their gazes locked. Heat rushed through him. There was something so intimate about being in a car with someone. Her right knee in the cherry-colored skirt was only an inch from his left, and her light, flowery perfume filled the car. Every time he inhaled, he was breathing her in, until she was part of his system, rushing around his body with his hot, hungry blood.

  I was teasing, she’d stated.

  “Were you?” he said before he could stop himself.

  Her gaze remained locked on his, and she must have seen the desire there, because her lips lifted up, and she gave a tiny, sexy shrug of her shoulders. Maybe.

  He wanted to kiss her… God, he wanted to kiss her. She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, and his erection sprang to life. It would be the easiest thing in the world to slip a hand behind her head, lean forward, and press his lips to hers. He wanted to wrap his arm around her and pull her to him, lift her onto his lap, and feel her soft body against his. Cup her breast in the thin blouse she was wearing and feel the heat and weight in his palm. Her arms would slip around him, her hands searching beneath his shirt to find his warm skin. He wanted to get naked with this woman, and find out if she was as fun in bed as he suspected.

  At that moment, Neve’s warning rang in his head, and he swallowed hard. “Callie, we can’t get involved. I have to stay professional.” Once again, though, as soon as he’d spoken, he knew she’d read between the lines and deduce that he wanted her.

  Her gaze rested on his lips—she was thinking about kissing him too. Her eyelids lowered to half-mast, her expression turning hot and sultry. “I don’t see why the agency has to find out.”

  The agency? He realized she was talking about his role as PA. For a brief moment, he’d forgotten about his cover story.

  Cold sluiced through him, dampening his ardor. What was he doing? Phoebe Hawke had placed her daughter’s life in his hands. What the hell was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he focus on the job?

  “That’s not the point,” he said. He tore his gaze away and yanked the keys out of the ignition. “It’s about integrity—it’s nothing to do with the agency, although I can’t imagine they would approve of their staff performing personal services for their employers.”

  He’d meant the comment to insinuate that if anything happened between them while she was employing him, it would verge on her paying him for sex. He’d meant it to be insulting, half hoping and half dreading the way the sparkle in her eyes would fade and her lips would straighten and thin.

  They didn’t, though. Instead, she just laughed. “Personal services? I’m going to have to put that in my employees’ contracts.”

  “Callie…”

  “Oh, relax,” she scolded, collecting her handbag. “You’re far too uptight. Someone needs to loosen your laces.” She turned and got out of the car.

  Gene grumbled beneath his breath. He couldn’t imagine anything more delightful than his laces being loosened at that moment. But it wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, and when it did, Callie Summer certainly wouldn’t be the one to do it.

  Chapter Eight

  The meeting at Hollywell’s didn’t go as well as Callie had hoped.

  After she’d walked out of the store manager’s office, she stopped at the ladies’, went to the loo, then stared at herself in the mirror as she washed her hands.

  “You only have yourself to blame.” Her too-loud voice rang through the small bathroom. Thankfully, the other cubicles were empty.

  She lowered her gaze to the basin, seeing her knuckles white where she’d clutched hold of the ceramic edge, and she forced herself to relax her grip. It wasn’t the end of the world. She was long past blaming herself for every little thing that went wrong in her life. It wasn’t her fault that she’d been distracted by Gene’s brooding blue eyes and his deep, sexy voice.

  I was teasing.

  Were you?

  His words bloomed in her head like beautiful roses. It wasn’t even a sentence, and yet just that fraction of a phrase told her he found her attractive.

  She was flattered, and couldn’t stop a glow spreading through her, but that didn’t mean anything would happen. Clearly, he was determined to remain aloof, and although she was sure it would be fun to keep teasing him, she didn’t want to make a fool of herself.

  She slid her hands beneath the dryer and turned them in the hot air. She’d be an idiot if she let a glint of sexual attraction ruin the tour she’d planned all year. The success of Four Seasons depended almost singlehandedly on her. That wasn’t an egotistical way of looking at things—it was fact. Rowan was an exceptional designer, but she had zero business sense and, if she’d been left to her own devices, would still have been designing dresses for her dolls. Bridget was great at running the shop, but had no vision in terms of expanding the business. Neve had some brilliant promotional ideas, but they tended to be just that—ideas rather than practical applications.

  It was Callie who had the business degree, the personal skills, and the ambition to make the business more than the one shop making a profit just large enough to keep them all above the breadline. She wasn’t expecting to surpass Victoria’s Secret or Triumph or Berlei, but she didn’t see why Four Seasons couldn’t become one of the best brands in New Zealand and possibly Australia, and she knew Rowan’s designs were pretty enough to expand even beyond that.

  Besides, life would be dull if she saw the limits of their shop as the outskirts of Wellington. She might open shops in a dozen New Zealand towns and half of them might fail, but so what? Better to have tried and failed than never to have tried at all.

  The same could be said about her personal life, she thought as she opened her handbag, took out her lipstick, and applied a new coat. She didn’t wish she’d never met Jamie. She did wish she’d noticed the signs that he was cheating on her before she’d walked in on him in bed, because the image of the skinny brunette sitting astride him, her hair tumbling down her back as his hips thrust up into her, had seared itself onto Callie’s brain and refused to come off, even though she’d done the mental equivalent of scrubbing the inside of her skull with a scouring pad. But although he’d hurt her terribly, she couldn’t wish they’d never gotten together. She’d tried a long-term relationship and she’d failed, but that was okay. It didn’t mean the next one wouldn’t work.

  When she was a child, her mother had shown her how to color a page with wax crayons, in any patterns, using every color in the box. Then she’d told Callie to go over the whole page with thick black paint. Puzzled, Callie had done so, even more confused when her mother had given her a cocktail stick and told her to draw something on the black page. She’d carefully drawn a star, and had then stared in delight at the rainbow colors that had appeared through the black paint.

  Being with Gene was kind of like that, his desire showing occasionally through his reservation, giving her the same feeling she’d had the day she’d seen the rainbow star through the black. If she scratched the surface, she knew she would find a pass
ionate man beneath his tight control. He wanted her—she could see it in his eyes, and part of her was tempted to see if she could indeed loosen his laces and find out what he was like when he relaxed.

  But it was a stupid idea, because she’d get distracted, and she wouldn’t forgive herself if she blew the whole tour because she wanted to get her leg over. She’d only have the one chance to approach these shops, and she had to concentrate when she had these appointments and stop thinking about Gene Bond and his license to thrill.

  Leaving the bathroom, she walked along the corridor and paused in the doorway to the reception area. He sat in one of the comfy chairs, reading a magazine. She’d told him to go and find a coffee shop, but he’d insisted on waiting for her. She’d been lucky he’d not demanded to go into the ladies’ room with her. The guy seemed determined that being a good PA meant gluing himself to her side.

  As she watched, he shifted in the chair, his brow creasing for a moment, suggesting his hip was bothering him. He’d been the same on the plane—although most of the time it didn’t seem to affect his walking, sitting for any length of time apparently gave him trouble.

  Her gaze lingered on him for a moment. She’d informed him that he didn’t have to wear a suit, but he’d insisted, saying he preferred to maintain a professional appearance as they were on business. He looked rakishly handsome in his three-piece suit and smart blue tie, but then most men looked good in a suit, especially a well-cut one like his. What would he look like in jeans or shorts and a T-shirt? Would he just look normal, like a guy-next-door, with his ruffled brown hair?

  Somehow, she doubted it. Even though he’d not even rolled up his shirt sleeves yet, she had the impression the hard edge to his features continued to his physique, both remnants of his Army life. When she’d enquired about the hotel he’d booked, the first thing he’d said was, “It has a gym and a swimming pool.” So she knew he worked out, because she’d have said, “It has a five-star restaurant, room service, and a spa bath.” He’d be muscular and lean beneath his shirt, his body tanned and hard. And although he’d said his ex had broken up with him because he hadn’t been able to communicate with her the way she’d wanted—which didn’t surprise Callie at all—she was certain that Angela whatever-her-name-was wouldn’t have criticized him in the sack.

  I was teasing.

  Were you?

  The words haunted her. His gray eyes had sparked with desire when he’d said those words, like a stormy sky lit with lightning. In spite of her promise to herself, Callie was suddenly desperate for him to look at her like that again.

  He glanced up and saw her standing there, and his eyebrows rose. “That was quick.” He put down the magazine—a gossip mag, she noted with interest—got to his feet, a little stiffly, and came over to her. “How did it go?”

  She smiled at the receptionist and led the way down the stairs. “Not great,” she said when they were out of earshot.

  “Oh? Any idea why?”

  “Not really. I didn’t perform at my best.”

  “What’s up? Are you tired?”

  No. I was imagining you taking off your waistcoat and shirt, then unbuttoning your trousers.

  “A bit,” she said. “But it’s okay, I’ll perk up after I’ve had my coffee.”

  “Come on, then. Let’s fill you up with latte and see if that makes a difference.”

  Let’s fill you up… She stifled a groan. She definitely had sex on the brain. There was no way that should sound as erotic as it did.

  There was a coffee shop opposite the store, so they ordered lattes and cake and found a seat by the window so they could watch the world go by.

  “Anything I can do to help get your mind in gear?” Gene asked after they’d made themselves comfortable.

  Callie looked out of the window. Dunedin was an attractive city, busy and thriving, its distinctive Edwardian architecture pulling in many tourists. It was also a university town, so the coffee shops were filled with students, and the city had a young, fresh air to it.

  She could smell Gene’s aftershave. It wound around her, gentle and subtle as a silk ribbon, drawing her toward him. She really hadn’t thought this through. Sitting on the plane squashed into a seat next to him, travelling in the false intimacy of a car, eating in cafés—she wasn’t sure she’d spent that much time being so close with Jamie.

  But she was a professional, and jeez, it was only a couple of weeks. She might not have had sex for a while, but it wasn’t as if she were going to jump on the first guy who came along.

  She looked back at Gene. Probably not. What was the chance of the first guy being so sexy he made her mouth water every time she looked at him?

  His cool eyes observed her. He unnerved her somewhat. He always seemed so in control. Callie knew she had a tendency to flap, usually when she’d forgotten to organize something, but Gene didn’t appear to panic at anything. She supposed that after you’d been shot and wounded, forgetting to book a car or discovering you’d left the perfect pair of shoes for an outfit at home didn’t seem worth worrying about.

  Anything I can do? he’d asked. She was tempted to say, Help me out with an orgasm, but couldn’t quite pluck up the courage. What would his reply be if she did? Would his eyebrows rise and a look of disapproval cross his features? Or would his eyes take on that sultry look of desire, his lips curving up as his gaze slid down her body to heat her right through?

  “Um…” she said, “not really.” She leaned back as the waitress brought their lattes and cake over. “Thanks.” She picked up a spoon and stirred the foam, breaking up the picture of a fern that had been drawn on the top. “I’ll be okay when I get going. I’m a bit rusty, that’s all.” She rested her elbows on the table and sipped her latte, then realized he was staring at her. “What?”

  He blinked and raised his own coffee. “Nothing.”

  “No, go on. What did I say?”

  “It doesn’t matter, really.”

  “Gene. Tell me.”

  He huffed what sounded like an irritated sigh, although humor sparked in his eyes. “I can’t make my mind up whether your words keep sounding suggestive on purpose or whether it’s pure accident.” He blew on the coffee.

  Callie thought back over what she’d said. I’ll be okay when I get going. I’m a bit rusty, that’s all. “In that case, it was pure accident. I think it says more about your state of mind than mine at the moment.” Liar, she thought.

  “Oh, okay.”

  Their gazes met, and they both started laughing.

  “Sorry.” He put down his cup and pulled his piece of chocolate brownie toward him. “I’ve been single for a while. I think it’s having an effect on my brain.”

  “I know what you mean.” She reached out her fork and removed the corner of his brownie. “I’m having trouble thinking about anything but sex at the moment.”

  He stared at his brownie. “Callie…”

  “What?” She wondered if he was going to react to her comment.

  He blew out a long breath, and she had the feeling he’d been going to remark on it but had changed his mind. “Do you normally help yourself to other people’s food?”

  She paused with the forkful of brownie halfway to her mouth. “All the time. Sorry, is that a problem?”

  He looked up at her, and his expression softened. “No,” he said. “Not at all. Help yourself.”

  For a brief moment, she imagined he was referring to himself. She had to fight not to lean over and unbutton his waistcoat.

  Instead, she ate the forkful of brownie, then her own carrot cake, making sure to offer him a piece. Not everything was about sex, she told herself sternly. She had to try to control herself, or she was going to get into serious trouble.

  Chapter Nine

  After lunch, Gene drove them to Fernz, and this time Callie came out smiling, and announced the meeting had gone very well.

  “They loved Rowan’s designs,” she said as they got into the car. “They were keen to stock a full ra
nge of lingerie, as well as some swimwear.”

  “That’s great.” Gene was genuinely pleased for her. She’d come out of the first meeting very flat, and he’d hoped it hadn’t boded ill for the rest of the tour. Luckily, that didn’t seem to have been the case. This time, her eyes sparkled, and she even did a little dance in her seat to a tune in her head.

  “Where next?” she said.

  “The hotel. We can check in and leave our bags in our rooms, then head out to the last appointment.”

  “Cool.” She looked out of the window, watching the houses and shops speed by. “Where is it?”

  “By the sea. It’s a bit out of town, in St. Clair, on the Esplanade, but it’s close to Lingerie Plus.”

  “Great.” She beamed at him. “I’m so glad you came along. I’d be lost without you.”

  “I’m sure you would. You’d probably be halfway to Australia by now.”

  “I mean it, Gene. Becky’s great, and we always have fun when we go away, and I was really worried when I knew she wouldn’t be able to go, but you’re a terrific substitute.”

  “Thank you.” His gaze slid across to her. Her cherry-colored skirt reached to just above her knees, and she wore a white sleeveless top with cherry and pink flowers that gathered beneath her breasts to flow down to her hips. She looked fresh and summery, like a sorbet, and she made his mouth water like one. Her bare legs were tanned and smooth, and he could imagine sliding his hand up her calf to her knee, then even higher, to the soft silkiness of her inner thigh.

  He turned his gaze back to the road. Best stop there, unless he wanted to sport an erection when they arrived at the other end.

  “Was it hot in Afghanistan?” Callie asked.

  He blinked at the randomness of the question. “Where did that come from?”

  “I was thinking about how hot it is here in summer, and that you seem very cool considering you’re wearing a waistcoat, and that made me wonder if you coped this well in uniform in the heat.”

  He said nothing for a moment, returning in his mind to the dusty land, the discomfort he’d had to fight as he sweated into his thick uniform. The three days he’d spent in the blistering heat, in pain, thinking he’d never be found. The bodies lying around him.