“Callie…”
“I can’t believe it’s happened again. I’m like a fucking jinx for this city!”
“Callie. Jesus.” Gene pulled her into his arms. “It’s okay.”
She rested her forehead on his chest, rigid as a poker as she fought to control the wave of emotions sweeping over her. “It’s not okay.”
“No, it’s not. I’m sorry.” He kissed the top of her head.
That tender gesture was enough to tip her over the edge, and she started crying.
As the tears trickled down her cheeks and her chest heaved with uncontrollable sobs, she wondered whether he’d pat her arm awkwardly, or maybe even move away, embarrassed by her emotion.
He didn’t, though. His arms tightened around her, warm and comforting, and he rubbed her back with a hand, murmuring, “Shh, shh, don’t worry, I’m here.”
Callie rested her cheek on his chest, the tension draining out of her, leaving her limp, like an old piece of celery. Gene felt solid, though, like a tree trunk warmed by the summer sun, his chest and arms hard, smelling of body wash and cotton sheets and hot, sexy male.
She’d tucked her arms against her chest, but as her tears subsided, she splayed a hand on his ribs, unable to restrain herself from touching him. He went still, and she thought that he might actually be holding his breath, too. Around them, the hubbub continued—firefighters coming and going in the building, people talking, phoning, the hotel staff trying to relay information. But for a brief moment, it faded, and her whole world became his warm breath on her temple, his strong arms, and his skin under her fingers.
His chest was wet from her tears, and she brushed her thumb through the wetness, spreading it a couple of inches across his skin, his light brown hairs moving and then springing back beneath her touch. When she exhaled, he shivered, although she wasn’t sure if it was from the cool air or her breath on his wet skin.
She knew hardly anything about this man, but she liked him so much. When he’d said he might ask her out in three months, did he mean he wouldn’t date anyone else until then? She didn’t like the thought of him going out with another woman, holding her like this, kissing her.
“She’s okay,” Gene said suddenly over her shoulder, and she realized someone had asked him if she was all right. “Just a bit shaken up. Memories of 2011.”
“Yes, there are quite a few people around here saying the same. Let us know if you need anything. It shouldn’t be long now until you can return to your room.” The man walked away, his footsteps crunching on the gravel.
Room, singular. He thought they were a couple. She supposed that made sense considering Gene was semi-naked and had his arms wrapped around her.
She should move back now, wipe her face, and thank him for comforting her. Put some distance between them.
But he didn’t lower his arms, so she stayed put, and they remained like that for a while, saying nothing, until the firefighters declared the hotel was safe and everyone could return.
Gene finally loosened his arms, and Callie stepped back. She wiped her face and turned to go, then felt Gene’s hand grasp hers firmly. She didn’t complain.
“It was a six-point-five,” the hotel manager explained as everyone returned, “but deep, and way out to sea. There doesn’t appear to have been too much damage across the city, and so far nobody’s been hurt.”
“Thank God.” Relief washed over her, and she sagged, exhausted.
Gene put one arm around her shoulders, pulling her against him as they walked back up the stairs, not wanting to wait with the crowds for the elevator. “Not far now,” he said soothingly.
She was so tired she could hardly keep her eyes open. She dragged herself up the steps, exclaiming when she stumbled, her feet refusing to lift. Gene bent and slid an arm under her knees, and lifted her easily into his arms to climb the last few stairs. Callie held on while he carried her along the corridor to their rooms. His hair was prickly at the nape of his neck where it was so short, a little longer as she moved her hand up. If he was surprised by her sliding her fingers through his hair, he didn’t say anything.
He bent to swipe her card, then opened the door. Carefully, he carried her through the doorway, into the room, and over to the bed. After pulling back the duvet, he lowered her onto the mattress. Then he covered her back over.
He cupped her face, his thumb brushing her cheekbone, wiping away the last of the wetness. “I’m just next door if you need me.”
Callie felt overwhelmed with tiredness and emotion, and suddenly the last thing she wanted was to be alone. “Don’t go,” she whispered.
He hesitated, and she bit her lip. What a stupid thing to say, after they’d had that discussion about waiting until the time was right. Of course he wouldn’t stay.
But to her surprise, he nodded and walked around the bed to the other side. He climbed on to lay beside her, on top of the duvet, and moved close to her. Then he lifted his arm.
Callie met his eyes for a moment, then shifted flush with him and rested her head on his shoulder. He lowered his arm around her, tight and warm even through the duvet, and held her close. He traced a finger around her face, lifting a strand of hair that had stuck to her wet cheek, and tucked it behind her ear.
“Don’t be scared,” he murmured. “I’ll keep you safe.”
“I know.” She closed her eyes, and within seconds the world faded to darkness.
Chapter Fourteen
The next morning, Gene was on his second cup of coffee when Callie finally appeared at the breakfast table at eight.
“Afternoon,” he said, turning off his phone and sliding it into his pocket.
She stuck her tongue out at him and took the seat opposite. “It’s hardly late. Anyway, I forgot to set my alarm.”
“You slept well, then?”
“Yes. Thank you.” Her eyes met his. He was glad to see the emotion of the night before had vanished, and she seemed relaxed, if a little cautious. “Um… about last night…”
He waved a hand. “Just another of my PA duties. Nothing needs to be said.”
She sucked her bottom lip for a moment. Then she said, “Okay,” and turned to smile up at the waiter.
Gene surveyed her while she listened to the waiter relay the breakfast options. She wore a smart pantsuit today, in a light gray, with a sleeveless cream top, and she’d clipped up her hair, which made her look fresh, cool, and classy.
The night before, he’d lain there for an hour while she slept in his arms, enjoying the warmth and softness of her body against him, and just the feel of being close to someone. It was eight months since he’d broken up with Angela, and although he didn’t miss her as much as he felt he should, he did miss the human contact. And the sex, of course. He missed the sex very much.
That was the main reason he’d risen from Callie’s bed and left her sleeping, because he’d known that if he’d continued to lay there, eventually he wouldn’t have been able to fight the temptation any longer. His hand would have stroked higher, brushing her ribcage, then finding its way to her breast, which would have felt uncaged and soft in his hand, and then it would only have been seconds before he would’ve rolled her onto her back and kissed her senseless.
“I’ll have the full breakfast,” she said. “With coffee, please.”
Gene grinned. “I’ll have the same,” he told the waiter, who left to place their order.
“What are you smirking at?” She glared at him.
“Every other woman I know would have chosen toast or grapefruit.”
“Boring,” she said. “Besides, I need to keep my strength up. We’ve got a busy day today.”
That was true on several accounts. They had visits planned to six stores throughout the day, and Gene knew it was going to be up to him to make sure Callie didn’t run late.
Not only that, but he was expecting Kev to keep in touch during the day with any updates. When Gene had returned to his hotel room, with Callie’s scent lingering on his skin and he
r tearstained face imprinted on his memory, he’d opened up his laptop and sat there for a while staring at the screen, wondering how he could help. He ran a security firm, not a detective agency, and the Special Tactics Group would have the hunt for Darren Kirk well in hand. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t try to think for himself.
After the same dark-haired man had been spotted on two separate days near Phoebe’s house, Gene had instructed Kev to submit the photo to the STG and ask them to run it through their Australasian database to see what it threw up. The STG had sent the death threat to their labs to see if they could discover anything about its origin. They were keeping tabs on Kirk’s family and friends that they knew of, and everyone involved in the trial had some form of security.
But Gene now had a personal, emotional investment in Callie’s safety, and it wasn’t enough for him to just sit around and wait to save Callie’s life. He needed to do something. So he’d requested that his team leaders email in detailed hourly reports that Kev would scan, summarize, and then forward to him, rather than relying on an end-of-day report. They were to take photos of every person Phoebe interacted with, and these would be emailed to him, too, so he could compare them day to day. Any recurring faces he would immediately forward on to the STG.
He was sure the STG would find Kirk and arrest him before any danger was done, but Kirk probably wouldn’t have made any personal attempts on the lives of those he hated. He would have hired a hitman or gotten one of his own crowd to do it, so it wasn’t as simple just keeping an eye out for his face.
“You’re quiet this morning,” Callie said. “Did you sleep okay? How long did you stay in my room for?”
“Just an hour. You were sound asleep.”
She accepted a cup of coffee from the waiter and dipped her spoon into the foam on the top. “I thought I would dream about the earthquake all night, but I didn’t, thank God. I probably snored, though.” She sipped the coffee.
“You did, very loudly. And dribbled all over my chest.”
“I did not.” She nudged his knee under the table.
He had to resist the urge to lean across and kiss away her pout. “Have you heard from Jamie again?”
She put down her cup. “No, and I doubt I will. We’re not in regular contact, and he was just concerned because of the quake. I have no desire to get in touch with him again.”
“So it’s definitely over?”
She studied him. “Yes, it’s over. I could never date him again. Once the trust is gone, you can’t regain it, can you? It’s like baking a cake. You can’t get the eggs and flour back once it’s been in the oven. The act of baking it changes it, and it can’t be undone.”
Gene looked out across the river, shifting in his chair. Trust was obviously an important factor for her, as it should be in all relationships. He hated that he was lying to her about his true identity. Would she understand when he finally told her, when Kirk was found? Or would she be angry?
It was a thought that would trouble him for the rest of the day, as he drove Callie from appointment to appointment, keeping a close eye on the time so she wouldn’t be late. As he waited in another coffee shop for her to finish a visit, he wondered whether he should in fact tell her he was doubling as her bodyguard. But what would happen if she sacked him? He couldn’t force her to have him as a personal protection officer. Shadowing her when she went out for a walk was one thing—doing it full time was another, and he wouldn’t be able to protect her properly from a distance.
For now, he had to put his growing feelings for her to one side and concentrate on keeping her safe. The best way to do that would be to continue working as her PA, which meant he could practically glue himself to her side without her noticing. Everything else would have to wait.
And if, when he eventually told her who he really was, she became angry, he’d have to deal with that when it happened. Hopefully, she’d come to see both he and her mother were acting in her best interests. If she refused to accept that, well, there would be little he could do about it, and he’d just have to deal with the fact that she would be the one that got away.
The notion of that made him a little depressed, but his time in the Army had taught him it was pointless to worry about things that hadn’t happened yet, and to live for today. So he drank his coffee, ate his brownie, and read through Kev’s latest report while he waited for Callie to finish her appointment.
Halfway through the day, he made sure she stopped for some lunch. It was difficult, because she was on a high, super excited because two of the three morning appointments had brought definite agreements to stock the brand, and the other was open to discussion once the manager had spoken to his head office.
“I really think this might work,” she announced as they tucked into pasta salads in a food mall conveniently placed between two stores she would be visiting.
“Of course it’s going to work,” he said. “You’re so enthusiastic—how can anyone fail to be won over?”
Her brow furrowed. “Am I overdoing it?”
He chuckled and speared some pasta on his fork. “Of course not. It’s nice to see you so happy. Especially after last night.”
“I’m just glad the earthquake didn’t do any lasting damage. I couldn’t believe what the 2011 one did. It really makes you realize how small and insignificant you are compared to the wrath of nature. It was as if an enormous monster had taken both sides of the city in its hands and torn it apart. Whole houses destroyed, roads cracked and buckled. I’ve never seen anything like it. It was terrifying.”
“Well, it seems as if this one was too deep and too far out to sea to have done much damage,” he said.
She chewed on her pasta, her lips curving up. “You’re good for me,” she said. “I’m too airy-fairy and prone to panic. You’re very calm and practical. Were you like that before you went in the Army?”
“Yes, although the Army taught me a lot about patience, and waiting. And that running around screaming doesn’t get the job done. We’re taught to work through our fear, and the chain of command means you have faith in your superiors and trust them to lead you through any dark times.”
“I think you would have made a good leader yourself. I’m surprised you’re not running your own company.” Her eyes were cool, appraising. What was she thinking? Had she guessed he was hiding something?
Afraid she might look into his eyes and see the truth, he lowered his gaze and scraped up the last of the pasta. “I might do, in the future. I’m quite happy where I am at the moment, though.”
“That’s good.” She pushed her plate away. “So, where are we off to now?”
He finished off with a swallow of soda. “Lacey’s first. Then Prim & Proper.”
“Come on, then.”
So they set off for their second round of appointments. It was a busy afternoon, racing across the city. Thank God for GPS, Gene thought as he navigated his way to the last store. It made things a whole lot easier.
The afternoon turned out to be even more successful than the morning, with all three stores interested in stocking the Four Seasons brand. Callie was on an absolute high. She talked all through dinner about her plans for the business, a completely different girl to the one who’d shaken in his arms the night before.
She asked him his opinion of some of her ideas, and Gene was happy to talk, but mostly he just listened, captivated by her enthusiasm and the sheer force of her sparkling personality. He felt as if she were casting a spell on him, gradually encasing him in invisible threads that drew him slowly closer to her, binding him. What was wrong with him? He hadn’t drunk anything, and he wasn’t sick, and yet he felt feverish, his heart rate up, the blood racing through his veins.
“Oh my God, I’ve talked far too much this evening,” she said when they eventually left the restaurant. “My voice is almost hoarse. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve had a great time. I like to see you so enthusiastic. I’m glad the day went well.” He pressed the bu
tton for the elevator, and the doors opened immediately. They went in, and the doors slid shut. He could smell her body wash, something fresh and fruity, winding around him like ribbons.
“Me too. It’s such a relief.” She leaned against the wall. Her cheeks were a little flushed, her eyes sparkling.
“And I’m glad you feel better after last night.” Their words were polite and courteous, but seemed disconnected from their bodies, which were having another conversation all of their own. This girl fitted her name perfectly—Sunny Summer. From her eyes to her dazzling smile to her curvy figure that made him think of bikinis and tanned skin damp with sweat, she was like a strawberry warmed by the sun, sweet and mouthwatering, filling his dull life with bright color and flavor.
“I do.” Her gaze fixed on his, impish, challenging. “I think it was because I slept well.”
Was she talking about him lying beside her? Gene couldn’t think what to reply to that. It was as if all his social niceties were fading away and his prehistoric caveman tendencies were coming to the fore. He’d had enough of talking. The memory of being with her the night before had haunted him all day, and now it rose to overwhelm him.
He wanted her, so badly it made him ache. He wanted to crush his lips to hers and wrap his arms around her until he could feel her soft body against him. He wanted to rip off her cream top, then her trousers, and cover her warm skin with kisses. Peel off her flimsy lingerie with all its straps and lace and sexy satin. Take her then and there on the elevator floor.
“Oh, Gene,” she said, scolding, mischievous. “There’s only one thing I can do when you look at me like that.”
She pushed off the wall. Not sure what she was going to do, Gene just stared at her, eyes widening, heart pounding, as she strode across the floor of the elevator. He inhaled sharply as she walked right up to him and cupped his cheek with a hand. Before he could say or do or think anything, she lifted up onto her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his.
Because he hadn’t initiated it, and because he knew it was wrong, he didn’t move. He didn’t return the kiss, and didn’t wrap his arms around her, pressing his hands against the wall of the elevator so he wasn’t tempted to touch where he shouldn’t.
[4 Seasons 01] Seducing Summer Page 11