THAT NIGHT, NATE TURNED away from rinsing the last of their dinner plates at the sink to find Elizabeth absorbed in the local paper at the kitchen table.
The overhead light shone in her pale blond hair and cast shadows beneath her cheekbones. He stood at the counter, folded the tea towel and resisted the urge to go to her and make love to her for the third time that day.
She was beautiful and funny and generous and prim—and he couldn’t believe she was here. Couldn’t believe that she hadn’t backed off at a million miles an hour after his performance the other night or the revelation that he was still so haunted by the accident that he couldn’t do something as simple and everyday as drive a car.
But she hadn’t flinched, hadn’t so much as looked away when he’d confessed his weakness. And when they’d come back to his place after sailing, she’d pushed him down onto the bed and left him in no doubt as to whether she still wanted him, despite everything.
Lying in bed with her in his arms, he’d caught a glimpse of a future that might not be simple, bare-bones, batten-down-the-hatches survival. A future that wasn’t simply about endurance.
He walked around the counter and rested his hand on the back of her chair.
“Having a nice time there?” he said.
She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Did you know they delivered twin wombats at the local wildlife reserve? There’s a picture here but they said they’re not letting anyone in to see them until they’re fully weaned. Look how cute they are.”
He dutifully scanned the photograph accompanying the story. “Cute.”
“We don’t have wombats in England,” she said. “The closest we have are the Wombles of Wimbledon Common.”
She was being funny and he rewarded her with a kiss. “Want to toast marshmallows on what’s left of the fire in the barbecue?” he asked.
“Why, sir, I thought you’d never ask.”
They lay on the picnic blanket and made themselves sick and sticky with gooey marshmallows.
“I never know when to stop,” Elizabeth said as she rubbed her stomach. “My mother used to call me a pelican—eyes too big for my belly-can.”
“You miss her.”
She pulled a face. “Stupid, huh? She’s been gone for more than twenty years.”
“Not stupid,” he said. Impossible to stop his thoughts from going to Olivia. There were so many things he missed about her. The sound of her off-key singing when she danced to her iPod, her shoes cluttering the front hallway thanks to her habit of kicking them off the moment she entered the house, the way she’d send him little text messages through the day—their own personal Twitter—keeping him up-to-date on her world.
“You never mention your parents,” Elizabeth said.
It took him a moment to change gears, push Olivia deep inside himself.
“They’re both dead. Dad had a car accident when I was ten. Mum died a few years ago. Cancer.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah. We’re not exactly the lucky Joneses, are we?” he said.
She shifted beside him, rolling onto her side and propping her head on her bent arm. “It must have made it harder. Losing Olivia, I mean. Because you were her parent for the past few years.”
For longer than that. His mother had battled for nearly two years before dying. Olivia had come to live with him when she was twelve. He’d had five years of being her everything before she died.
He’d been silent too long and Elizabeth reached out to touch his chest.
“You don’t like to talk about it.”
“Not much to say, is there?”
She leaned close and kissed him. “No, I guess there isn’t.”
She settled down beside him again, her head on his shoulder this time, her arm across his chest. She didn’t say anything else, and neither did he.
He made love to her when they turned in for the night, swallowing her moans as he pushed himself deep inside her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and dug her fingers into his back as she came, her body strung as tight as a bow. He hung on to the pleasure for as long as he could before he succumbed. Then he tucked her body against his own and fell asleep.
9
NATE WOKE WITH AN idea fully formed in his mind the next morning. He wanted to give Elizabeth something back, something in return for her thoughtful silences and silken body and warm eyes. Something to make her smile.
He eased out of bed to find his phone and slipped outside to make a couple of calls.
Elizabeth was sitting up and blinking by the time he returned.
“No sailing today. I’ve got a surprise,” he said.
“What have you been up to?” she asked suspiciously.
“Come on. Out of bed and into the shower. We’ve got places to go, people to see.”
“Nathan. What’s going on?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“What kind of a surprise?”
She looked so adorable, with her mussed hair and faintly imperious frown. He ducked his head to kiss her before responding.
“The kind of surprise that’s a surprise.”
She was even more curious when he walked into town with her to collect her car.
He could feel her looking at him as he buckled his seat belt, knew what she was thinking. It was the first time he’d driven with her, and she had to be wondering how he’d cope.
“I’ll be fine, don’t worry,” he said.
It would have been true, too, if a car full of teenage surfers hadn’t blown through an intersection on the way out of town. Elizabeth braked sharply and they both jerked forward in their seats. The strap bit into his chest and he lifted his hands instinctively to shield his face.
“God. I’m so sorry. He came out of nowhere,” Elizabeth said.
She was pale from shock and Nate tried to find the words to reassure her but there was something in his throat and he couldn’t seem to breathe around it.
Not now. Don’t you do this to me. Don’t you dare freaking do this to me.
But his stupid, messed-up subconscious was off and running, running a highlights reel from the night of the accident. Cold adrenaline swept through him as the car pulled over to the curb. He heard the sound of a car door opening and closing. Then Elizabeth was unbuckling his seat belt and pulling him out of the car.
“Sit. Put your head between your legs,” she said, pushing him onto the grass at the side of the road.
He had no choice but to comply, sitting with his legs drawn up, his head hanging between his knees as he concentrated on slowing his breathing. In, out. In, out. After what felt like an age the shaking stopped. He opened his eyes and stared at the grass between his feet. Shit.
Shit, shit, shit, shit.
He’d organized something fun for her, then screwed it up with his bullshit. A simple drive out of town, no big deal, and he’d turned it into a three-ring circus.
The futility of what they were doing—what he’d been fooling himself they were doing—hit him. This was never going to work. He was a selfish prick for even trying to keep her by his side.
A warm hand landed in the center of his back.
“How are you doing?”
He was so frustrated, so freaking over it, he could barely stand to have her touch him. Especially when he knew how he must appear right now, hunched over on the side of the road like the basket case he was.
“I’m good,” he said between gritted teeth.
“I wish I’d got their license plate number. Horrible little oiks. I’d love to send a note to their parents. I’m sure they’d be thrilled to know their children were driving around like maniacs.”
Not quite what he’d expected her to say. But Elizabeth was always surprising him. He risked a glance at her. She was watching him, a question in her eyes.
There was no pity there. No contempt or regret or embarrassment.
It occurred to him that he was one lucky bastard to have opened the door to Elizabeth Mason just over a week ago. P
ossibly the luckiest bastard on the planet.
“Would this note be on monogrammed stationery?” he asked after a long silence. “I’m assuming you have some.”
“Of course. But unfortunately I didn’t bring it with me. So I’d have to make do with some from the Isle of Wight.”
“Yes. That would definitely get their attention—a stern reprimand on letterhead from the local pub.”
She smiled and gave a little shrug.
She was so damned gorgeous and sweet and funny….
She stood and dusted off the seat of her pants.
“It’s not a bad idea, you know—writing a note to their parents. You’d be surprised how many big, bad boys are still afraid of their mothers.”
He pushed himself to his feet.
“Come on. We’ll go home and you can give me some sailing pointers,” she said.
The thought of going home and disappearing inside his bubble of Elizabeth and beer and sun and silence seemed pretty good with the last of the adrenaline still making itself felt in his body.
But he’d been walking backward for so long. Retreating, retreating, retreating. No way was he going to cap the whole cowering-by-the-side-of-the-road thing by running home with his tail between his legs.
And he wanted to do this for Elizabeth.
“I’m not ready to go home yet,” he said.
Elizabeth eyed him steadily. “You can surprise me another day, you know. If that’s what it’s about.”
He gestured toward the car. “Let’s go.”
She hesitated a moment, then she walked around to the driver’s side door. Nate stepped toward the open passenger door. He kept his gaze fixed on the seat in front of him, but it was impossible to stop the tension that banded his chest and choked his throat.
But he knew he could do this. He’d done it before, after the accident. He’d allowed people to drive him around, back and forth to doctors and consultants. To Olivia’s funeral. To the office. He hadn’t liked it, but he’d done it. And he’d finally gotten used to it, eventually.
So. It would be bad when he first got in. But it would get better. It would.
He took a couple of deep belly breaths, then slid into the car. His immediate impulse was to get the hell out. It was too small, too closed in. And once the car started moving, there’d be the speed to deal with, the world rushing up at him….
He closed his hand around the seat belt clasp and pulled the belt across his chest. He clicked it in place, then gripped the fastener as tightly as he could. Just to know that he could release the belt any time he wanted.
Elizabeth put on her own belt and started the car. She signaled to pull onto the road, but didn’t make any move to shift the car in gear or release the hand brake.
“We don’t have to do this,” she said.
“Yeah, we do.”
She didn’t say anything else, simply put the car in gear, released the handbrake and pulled out onto the road. A wash of anxiety rushed through Nate’s body, the instinctive desire to escape something that terrified him. He kept breathing into his belly, the way his therapist had taught him, and slowly his heart rate slowed and the hectic, swirling chatter in his mind settled.
He loosened his grip on the seat belt, then deliberately relaxed the muscles in his shoulders. Finally he focused on the road ahead.
“We need to turn right up ahead,” he said. “I’ll tell you when.”
“Okay.” She glanced across at him. “Would it help if I sang?”
“Are you any good?”
“No.”
He smiled. “Sure. Why not?”
She thought for a moment, then started singing “God Save the Queen.” She hadn’t been lying—she had a terrible singing voice. When she’d finished the British national anthem, she moved on to Abba.
By the time the turnoff came into view his hands were loose in his lap and most of the tension was gone.
“Right here,” he said.
She nodded and turned and he gave her directions the rest of the way. Soon they were pulling into the parking lot of the Phillip Island Wildlife Park. She read the sign, then spun toward him with a hopeful smile.
“This is the place where they have the baby wombats.”
He put on his best poker face. “Is it?”
“Nate…”
“Patience is a virtue. Surely your grandmother taught you that one?”
She poked her tongue out at him but followed him inside the administration building. The head ranger, Henry, came to the ticket booth when Nate gave his name to the cashier. They all shook hands and the older man led them into the park and along a dusty dirt track.
“This isn’t the usual tour, is it?” Elizabeth asked after a few minutes.
“I’m not sure,” Nate lied.
She nudged him with her elbow. “Is he taking us to see the baby wombats or not?”
“You’re the kind of kid who used to snoop around under the Christmas tree, feeling up her presents, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
She looked so hopeful that he couldn’t help laughing. He slid his arm around her shoulder.
“Relax, Lizzy. All will be revealed.”
It took them five minutes to reach the wombat enclosure. Henry paused before letting them inside.
“These joeys are six months old and they’re still in the pouch. They won’t leave permanently for another two to four months, but they come out regularly to look around. Be warned—their claws are long and strong, even though they’re only babies.”
Elizabeth nodded her understanding and followed him into the enclosure. Nate stood to one side and watched her face as Henry delivered a small, hairy bundle into her arms.
A slow, incredulous smile curled her mouth and her eyes lit with pleasure. “Oh. He’s beautiful! Nate, look at him, isn’t he adorable? Or is it a she?”
“They’re both boys,” Henry said.
“He’s so soft.” She ran her hands over his fur, then she glanced across at Nate, inviting him to share her pleasure.
Their eyes met and held and for a few precious seconds there was nothing else in the world. Then Henry brought over the second wombat and the moment was gone.
They spent fifteen minutes in the enclosure and Elizabeth was able to nurse both the baby wombats as well as pat their mother.
She caught his hand once they had left the park, forcing him to stop.
“Thank you. I don’t know how you arranged for that to happen, but it was wonderful. Just…wonderful.”
He shrugged, embarrassed by her gratitude. “Smartsell donated some money to the park’s on-site hospital building fund last year. I made a phone call or two. It was no big deal.”
“It was to me.” She stood on tiptoes and kissed him.
He smiled. Couldn’t help himself. He’d wanted to give her something, a small moment of pleasure, and he had.
Later that night, he rolled her onto her knees and took her from behind, the way he knew she liked it. She rocked her hips and cried out when she came, then he grit his teeth and hung on and made it happen all over again before he let himself lose control. When they were both lying limp and breathless afterward, he ran his fingers through her hair and tried to remember what it was like before she came into his life.
He couldn’t. Probably because he didn’t want to. She made everything better. Her smile, her laughter—God, he loved to make her laugh. He also loved the way she shivered when he touched her, and the way she was simply there when his stuff got on top of him, how she looked at him so calmly, not judging, before saying something incredibly prosaic and everyday and grounding….
She was smart and practical and generous and bloody brave. And she was in his arms, right now. In his life. It was almost too good to be true.
“You should give up your room at the pub, move in here,” he said, before he had a chance to second-guess himself.
He felt her body tense in his arms, then she lifted her head so she could look into his face. The
y stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment, then she returned her head to his chest. “Okay.”
He waited for her to say more, but she didn’t.
“We can move into the main house, if you’d prefer it,” he said.
She lifted her head to look at him again. “What about my father? Wouldn’t he want to have a say in that…?”
Nate shrugged. “There are two bedrooms. He offered to move into the studio when I first came down to the island, but I didn’t much care where I was.”
She frowned, then her brow cleared. “This is your place, isn’t it? God, I’m so dense sometimes. All this time, I thought you were renting from my father, but it’s the other way around, isn’t it?”
“I bought this place to renovate it. Was going to do something big and modern like the place next door.”
She wrinkled her nose and he laughed.
“Maybe you should take a look inside before you pass judgment. It’s pretty nice over there. Imported stone floors. Teak woodwork. State-of-the-art everything.”
“And absolutely no charm or character, I bet. No, thank you. I’ll take these four walls and two windows and wooden floor over that perfect place every time. Every time.”
He was silent for a moment. “So I take it that’s a no to moving into the main house?”
“Correct.”
She returned her head to his chest and he resumed combing his fingers through her hair.
She was moving in. He knew it was only temporary, until Sam returned from the Sydney-to-Hobart race. Knew that she had no solid plans for what might happen after she met her father, and that her life was elsewhere, about as far from Nate’s very circumscribed world here on the island as it was possible to be…
But for now, she was staying. That was more than enough for a guy who had turned taking it day-by-day into an art form.
IT TOOK ELIZABETH ALL OF twenty minutes to move out of the pub and into Nate’s place the next day: she packed her bag, paid her bill then drove the rental to his house and parked in the drive.
Hot Island Nights Page 13