by Liz Fielding
His hands softened as he drew her down to him, intensified his kiss and her body moulded naturally to his. But even that was not enough. She wanted to be closer, wanted to be naked, wanted him in the way that a woman yearned for a man, drawn by the atavistic need to surrender to the illusion of safety within his arms.
Wanted to be held, touched…
As if he could read her mind, his hands abandoned her shoulders and began to move tantalisingly, tormentingly slowly down her body, lingering agonisingly at her waist before descending to her thighs while his tongue plundered her mouth so that in her head she was screaming for more.
He responded to her urgent moan, sliding his hand beneath her short skirt and pulling her into him so that she could feel the sudden hard urgency of his need, counterpoint to the melting softness of her desire.
She wanted to be touched, possessed, loved…
Even as she sank deeper into his embrace and his arms enfolded her, that ‘loved’ word, that dreadful word, the tool of mendacious men, betrayer of gullible women, splintered through her mind like a shaft of ice and she broke free, slithering from his grasp to the floor before he could stop her.
‘Josie—’ He followed, crashing onto the deck beside her, his hands reaching for her.
‘Don’t…’
She flinched, digging her heels into the deck, scooting away from him. Putting herself out of reach. Dragging the back of her hand over her mouth in an attempt to wipe away all trace of the touch, the taste of his seductive lips, the delicious temptation…
‘What have I done?’ he asked, but this time making no effort to follow her, hold her. And why would he? She wasn’t blaming Gideon. Nothing had happened that she hadn’t participated in eagerly, willingly and for a moment, one blissful moment in the warmth of his arms, she had managed to forget, shut out reality. Not this brilliant, sun-filled world, but the darkness within her.
‘Nothing… It’s not you. It’s me. Just…’ She shook her head, incapable of explaining. Finding the words to apologise for behaving so badly.
‘Don’t?’ he offered, a great deal more gently than she deserved.
She nodded once. Then, forcing herself to behave normally, like an adult. ‘Are you hurt?’ He’d come down off the lounger with a hell of a crash.
‘Only my pride. I don’t normally get that reaction when I kiss a woman.’
That she could believe. It had been the most perfect kiss. So bewitchingly sensuous that for a moment she had been utterly seduced. Nothing less would have stolen away her wits, her determined self-control, even for a moment.
‘There was nothing wrong with the kiss, Gideon.’ She could still feel the heat of it singing in her blood, telling her that she was strong, could do anything. Tempting her to reach out to him, test her power. ‘I just…’
She lifted her hands in a helpless gesture. She’d turned her life around. Was in control. She would never allow anything, anyone to take that from her again.
His eyes narrowed.
‘Can’t?’ he offered helpfully, completing her unfinished sentence for the second time.
She knew that look, recognised the speculation as he wondered what had happened to her. Who had hurt her. Whatever he was thinking, he was wrong. Nothing he was imagining could be as bad as the truth.
CHAPTER SIX
The dress. Individual, unique, it is a statement of everything the bride feels about herself. A matter for secrecy, intrigue and speculation…
—The Perfect Wedding by Serafina March
JOSIE steeled herself for the usual prurient inquisition—was it rape or abuse? No man had ever asked her if he’d done something to turn her off. Not that Gideon had. For a moment she had so utterly forgotten herself that she was still shaking with a surge of need unlike anything she’d ever experienced.
But the question never came.
‘Don’t worry about it, Josie,’ he said, so casually that if she hadn’t been so relieved she might have felt insulted. ‘It was nothing.’
Nothing?
‘You don’t have to apologise. Or explain.’
‘No?’
Easy for him to say. He probably had women throwing themselves at him all the time. Not that she had. Thrown herself. She’d had a giddy spell, had been off balance physically and mentally or she would never have reacted so wantonly to his closeness.
The kiss had not been forced upon her. It had been inevitable from the first moment she’d set eyes on him. She’d recognised the danger, thought she could control it…
‘No,’ she said, turning the word from a question to a statement as she eased herself carefully to her feet—she didn’t want a repeat of that giddy spell… ‘Nothing at all.’ Then, because he hadn’t moved, ‘Do you need a hand up?’
He looked up at her for a moment as if considering the physics of the skinny girl/big bloke leverage situation.
‘Not a good idea.’
No. It would be too easy to repeat that tumble and it was obvious that he didn’t want to risk that.
Nor did she, she told herself hurriedly.
‘Shall I call someone?’
‘Forget about me,’ he said, apparently content to sit on the deck, his back against the hard frame. ‘You’ve got a bride to worry about.’
‘Yes…’ She backed slowly away—any injudicious move was likely to stir up all those hormones swirling about her body, desperate for action. ‘Did she say where she’d be?’
‘Her room, I imagine.’
‘Her room?’ She finally snapped out of the semi-inert state where her brain was focused entirely on Gideon. ‘This is her room!’ she declared.
‘Yes, well, that was the other thing I was about to tell you. Before you threw yourself on me.’
‘What a pity I didn’t do more damage.’
‘Is that any way to speak to a man who, while you were snoring your head off, has single-handedly sorted out your accommodation problems?’
She was fairly sure that the snoring slur was simply his attempt to put up a wall between them and who could blame him?
Ignoring it, she said, ‘What did you do? Rub a magic lamp and produce another tree house out of thin air?’
‘Is that what you do when, on the morning of the wedding, the bride tells you that a long lost cousin from New Zealand has arrived with all his family and you have to find room for half a dozen extra people at a reception?’
‘I don’t need magic to produce an extra table,’ she snapped back. ‘It’s my job.’ Then, because this was no way to cool things down, she extended a hand, palm out like a traffic cop. ‘Stop.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Back up.’ He waited, a questioning tilt to one of those devilish brows while she took another breath. Started again. ‘Thank you so much for involving yourself with my accommodation problem, Gideon. Would you care to update me?’ she enquired politely.
She got an appreciative grin for her efforts and all those escaped hormones stampeded in his direction and she took a step forward as she almost overbalanced.
Maybe he noticed because he said, ‘Sit down and I’ll fill you in.’
She did but only, she told herself, because he was having to peer awkwardly up at her in a way that must be hurting his back. Not that he’d been feeling pain a few minutes ago…
Stop. Oh, stop…
Ignoring the low lounger—she wasn’t risking a second close encounter with all those free roaming pheromones—she crossed to a canvas director’s chair that David had fetched so that they could have a cosy chat over her supine body.
Tempted as she was to pitch in with yet another sarcastic comment, she suspected he was waiting for it and, since she hated being predictable, said, ‘When you’re ready?’
‘The best man and his new girlfriend have been allocated the captain’s cabin aboard the river boat. It’s not like this, but they’ll have the deck for game viewing and the pool if they want to cool off.’
‘What about the captain?’ she asked.
‘He can use the f
irst mate’s cabin.’
‘And the first mate?’ She held up a hand. ‘No, I don’t want to know.’ She swallowed. He was in pain, he didn’t want the wedding here, but he’d still gone out of his way to help her. ‘Just…well, thank you. That’s an enormous help.’
Gideon, the dull ache of unfulfilled lust competing with the hard frame of the sun-lounger digging into his back for attention, was concentrating so hard on Josie that they didn’t stand a chance.
A woman had every right to change her mind and she didn’t have to apologise. It was obvious, from the moment he’d set eyes on her, that there had been something between them, that rare arc of sexual energy that could leap across a room on a glance. An exchange between two people destined to be naked together in the very near future. For a night, or a lifetime. Or not.
You were with someone else, or she was and there would be a shrug, an acknowledgement of what might have been.
On this occasion it had not just arced, there had been lightning and it was going to take a lot more than a shrug, a regretful look to make him forget how she’d felt in his arms. That look on her face as she’d scrambled to distance herself from him. Dismay, desperation…
It wasn’t what he’d done that had sent her running. It was what she’d come close to doing.
‘You’ve been very kind, Gideon,’ she said, her words, like her body, as stiff as a board.
‘Well, you know what they say. There’s no such thing as a free lunch.’ He lifted a brow, hoping to provoke her, get her to loosen up, let go. Get back the Josie who said exactly what she thought instead of what she thought she should say. ‘I imagine that surrendering your lunch wasn’t an entirely altruistic gesture?’
‘Not in the least,’ she admitted without a blush.
Better…
‘Which brings us to the larger problem of the bridal suite. What’ll it take to fix that?’ Then she did blush, possibly remembering his earlier comment about incentives.
Much better…
‘Nothing. It’s sorted.’
‘Really?’ She brightened.
‘We’re going to be room mates.’
Gideon saw the blush fade from her cheeks as she rose slowly to her feet.
‘Well, you and David have had a busy afternoon,’ she said.
He’d known that she wasn’t going to be happy about it and, under the circumstances, it didn’t take a genius to see what she must be thinking.
‘I’m sorry, but David and I went through the guest list to see if there was any way either of us could double up. But, like the Ark, everyone is coming to this wedding two-by-two. We are the only singles.’
‘You could leave,’ she pointed out.
‘I did consider it,’ he admitted. ‘I even made it as far as the bathroom, but it seems that the very thought of getting on a plane was enough to make my back seize up again.’
‘How convenient.’
‘You think I’m enjoying this?’
‘Oh, God, no,’ she said, her face instantly softening, full of compassion, and that made him feel like a heel because right at this moment he was enjoying the situation rather a lot. ‘I’m sorry. That was a horrible thing to say…’
He could have told her that she had an instant cure, but under the circumstances he thought it unwise and instead watched as, for the second time in ten minutes Josie struggled to come to terms with a situation she couldn’t quite get her head around.
‘Is flying a problem for you?’ she asked.
He laughed. He knew he shouldn’t but he couldn’t help himself. ‘Are you asking me if I’m afraid of flying?’
‘It’s nothing to be ashamed of,’ she assured him.
‘Have you any idea how many miles I fly each year?’
‘Well, no, but it’s a fact that the more miles you fly the shorter the odds become…’
‘Stop. Stop right there. I have a pilot’s licence, Josie. I own my own light aircraft. I stunt fly for fun.’
‘Stunt fly?’
‘It’s one of the extreme holidays my company offers.’
‘Oh. Right. It’s just that if the problem is psychological…’ She stopped. ‘No. Right.’ Then, ‘But if you can’t move, how are you going to move rooms?’ she asked.
‘I’m not moving anywhere. You’re moving in here.’
Josie frowned. ‘Say that again?’ she said, hoping that she’d misheard him, misunderstood.
‘You’re moving in here.’
‘Dammit, Gideon, you are not listening to me,’ she exclaimed, throwing her arms up in the air, walking around the deck in an attempt to expel all that pent-up emotion she’d been keeping battened down. Refusing to look at him. ‘This is Tal and Cryssie’s room. It’s all been planned.’
‘Yes, well, the first casualty of battle is always the plan,’ he said. ‘You—or rather Cara’s aunt—looked at the layout and saw privacy. Cryssie took one look and saw herself isolated about as far from civilisation as it was possible to be and her response was a firm thanks, but no thanks.’
‘What?’ Josie came to a halt. In front of her, at the water’s edge, a line of zebras raised their heads, looking for all the world like a row of startled dowagers at a wedding who’d just heard the vicar swear… ‘But she had already approved everything,’ she said, turning back to face Gideon.
‘Maybe it looked different on paper. Whatever, she flatly refused to be “stuck out here where anything could eat me”.’
He put on a high-pitched girly voice and, despite the fact that she was already furious with him on a number of counts, would have happily throttled him at that moment, she snorted with laughter.
‘She didn’t say that.’
‘No? Ask her.’ Then he smiled too. ‘I really do think you’d have been better off with the petting zoo.’
‘It would have been my choice too, but it’s too late for that,’ she replied. ‘So where have you put her?’
‘She’s in the tree house nearest to the central lodge, which was, fortunately, vacated this morning. David has put the photographer and make-up artist who flew in with her next door.’
‘In my room? I close my eyes for ten minutes—’
‘Three hours.’
‘—and you move someone else into my room.’
‘You’d already accepted that you would have to surrender your room, Josie—’
True, but she didn’t have to like it.
‘—and the rest of the guests won’t have gone until the morning. You might believe that we’re in need of a major PR hit, but Leopard Tree Lodge is always full at this time of year. Cryssie did turn up a day early with her entourage and she’s lucky to have any kind of room.’
‘I know and I’m sorry about that, but you should have woken me up.’
‘I’m too soft-hearted for my own good.’
‘You’re too chicken. You knew you’d get an argument and hoped that if I was faced with a fait accompli I’d just roll over.’
‘That too,’ he admitted, with just enough of a grin to suggest he believed he’d got away with it.
‘I’d better go and shift my things,’ she said. ‘But this isn’t over.’
‘No need. Alesia did it for you.’
‘Alesia…’
Not only her client, but half the staff had apparently walked through here this afternoon. Seen her “snoring her head off”. Discussed what was best without reference to her.
He’d been right about one thing. She’d needed the sleep. But that was all he was right about.
This was her job, her responsibility, but she didn’t bother to say what she was thinking. Instead, she turned on her heel and went inside.
Her toothbrush was sitting in a glass beside his on the bathroom shelf. Her clothes were hanging beside his cream suit. Her purple wheel-on suitcase was snuggled up cosily alongside his battered soft leather grip.
Even her briefcase had been brought in from the deck and placed tidily on the desk. And she knew exactly what he had done.
He hadn’t discussed this with David. Employee or not, as the manager of this hotel he would never have agreed to something like this without consulting her. It was Gideon. Determined not to leave either Leopard Tree Lodge or surrender his own precious tree house to the unwanted bride and groom, he’d told David that this was her idea.
No doubt he’d shrugged, brushed aside the inconvenience, done a good job of presenting himself as the nice guy who was putting himself out to do everyone a favour.
And why wouldn’t David have believed him? After all, there she was, fast asleep, totally at home in Gideon’s tree house. Jane to his Tarzan.
It was all as neat and nice as the vast bed that Gideon seemed to believe she would share with him.
‘Is everything there?’ he asked when she emerged, blinking, into the late sunshine. Looking up at her from the deck, where he was looking more comfortable that he had any right to be.
‘Oh, yes. They haven’t missed a thing,’ she said, sliding her dark glasses over her eyes.
‘Well, good.’ She noted that he sounded a little less certain now. ‘I know how busy you are and I thought it would save you some time.’
‘You thought that, did you?’
He shook his head. ‘Okay. Tell me what’s wrong.’
‘Wrong?’ she repeated, keeping it light, casual as if she had absolutely no idea what he was talking about, all the while holding in the urge to laugh hysterically. ‘What could possibly be wrong?’
‘I don’t know. I’ve sorted out your accommodation problem. Your bride has got the room she wants. And that bed is big enough for both of us to sleep in without ever finding one another.’
There wasn’t a bed big enough in the entire world…
‘You were prepared to take the office floor, Josie. This has got to be better than that.’
‘Maybe so, but it should have been my decision.’
‘I made it easy for you.’
‘No, you made it easy for yourself. No argument. Decision made. Everyone happy. Job done.’
He didn’t bother to deny it but, with a shrug that could have meant anything, he said, ‘I get the feeling you’re about to prove to me how wrong I was about that.’