by Karina Bliss
“It’s a great place to think, too.” As Kezia joined Liz, the band struck up the tango and a burst of hilarity drew their attention. Through the window they watched Bernice May—a rose between her teeth—tighten her grip on a protesting Luke.
Both women started to laugh.
“You might want to rescue your man,” Kezia suggested.
Liz hesitated. Over the afternoon and evening the two of them had struck up a rapport—maybe because they were the only sane ones in this crazy menagerie. “He’s not mine,” she confessed as they turned back to the view. “We’re faking it.”
“I thought so at first,” Kezia said gently, “now I’m not so sure.”
“Oh, the friends part is real.”
“Really?” Kezia gestured to two chairs and they sat down. “That makes you a lot more interesting than a girlfriend. Luke is very selective about his friends.”
Her husband’s roar of laughter emanated from inside and, eyes twinkling, she added, “These days, anyway. So why the sigh?”
Married to one of Luke’s best friends, maybe Kezia could offer an insight that would help Liz’s decision. “I am considering a temporary…upgrade in our friendship,” she admitted a little awkwardly.
“And you’re worried about jeopardizing your friendship?”
Liz knew this sensible woman would understand.
“Partly.” An image of Luke standing apart from his friends this afternoon flashed into her mind. “Can I hurt him?”
Kezia stared at her intently. “You obviously think so, or you wouldn’t be asking.”
“He says I can’t.”
“Luke always says what he means and means what he says.”
Kezia wasn’t going to give Liz a straight answer, how could she? Luke was her friend.
“Well, thanks for your help.”
Kezia obviously sensed her disappointment. “I’m not trying to be obtuse, but in a lot of ways Luke is an enigma. If you really want my advice—” she smiled “—trust Fred’s instincts.”
LIZ TOOK A DEEP BREATH. “I’ve made a decision.”
“Let’s hear it.”
The band struck up a schmaltzy love song and she had to raise her voice. “I’ve decided to go home.”
“Okay.” She waited for more. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you meant now,” he added.
Luke stood up from their table and, stunned, Liz followed his lead. All that agonizing, she thought, and he doesn’t care either way?
Bernice May was the one who protested. “Change your mind and drive home in the morning.”
“It’s a ninety-minute drive and she’s got an early appointment,” Luke said.
She did; still, Liz resisted an impulse to hit him.
The old lady made an impatient gesture. “So get up early. You young people have no stamina.” To Liz’s intense embarrassment, she pulled her aside and whispered loudly, “If it’s noise you’re worried about, he’s got the guest cottage to himself.”
Luke overheard. “Let it go, Bernie. She’s made up her mind.”
It would serve him right if she changed it. Finding it increasingly difficult to hold her smile, Liz said her farewells. Kezia hugged her; Christian kissed her on the cheek.
“It’s been a pleasure, Fred.”
She barely knew these people and they treated her like one of them. Even the bride and groom, swamped by friends and family, had made a point of seeking her out to say a personal goodbye.
Outside, the music faded into the vastness of the country night as they followed the ghostly blue glow of solar lights along the track to the paddock where only a dozen cars remained. She should thank Luke for inviting her, but Liz was suddenly too angry for pleasantries.
How dare he get her all steamed up before sorting out his feelings?
The open farm gate, whimsically entwined with red, green and gold fairy lights, twinkled a direction across the tussock grass. There was no sea breeze to cool the humidity, and the chiffon dress wilted against her body. Liz felt like a deflated party balloon.
He’d obviously regretted the offer as soon as he’d made it.
She tried to read his face, stepped into a rutted tire track and stumbled. Luke caught her by the elbow in an iron grip. “Careful.”
No, this wasn’t a man who vacillated.
He took her car keys and opened her car door. The interior light flicked on, illuminated the navy leather…and Luke’s jaw. He was smiling.
“Of course,” she blurted. “You’re using reverse psychology to try to change my mind.”
“What?”
Oh, God, she was wrong. “Listen, I had a wonderful time. See you at the lesson on Monday.” She grabbed his hand and pumped it. The key he was still holding jabbed into her palm.
“Wait a minute. This just got interesting.” His hand tightened on the car key as she tried to take it. All the remote politeness had disappeared from his tone. “Did you want me to try to change your mind?”
“No!” Honesty compelled her to add, “But a little more disappointment would have been nice.”
“That tempted, huh?”
Her temper flared again. “Can I have my keys, please?”
He leaned against her car. “I’m worried you might interpret that as giving in too easily.”
Liz gritted her teeth. “Trust me, I won’t.”
“You’re really pissed about this, aren’t you? The thing is, Fred, ambivalent women tend to have regrets. Regrets are complications. Neither of us wants complications.” He sounded as if he was reciting by rote. “You’ll thank me in the morning.”
“Don’t patronize me. I’m older than you are.” All the logical arguments in the world and she had to choose the illogical one. Suddenly Liz was tired. “Give me the keys, Luke.”
He opened his palm. “I want you to stay. But you have to be sure, Liz.”
She grabbed the keys, sank into the driver’s seat and slammed the door, then rolled down the window. “Would it have been so hard to just kiss me?”
Starting the car, Liz switched the headlights to high beam. A cow lifted its head from the trough in the next paddock. Water dripping from its mouth, it stared back with big, reflective eyes.
Distracted, she graunched the gears. “Listen, forget that, it was a stupid thing to say.” Liz struggled to be her reasonable self again. “See you Monday.”
“Make the first move, Fred, and I promise I’ll make all the rest.”
The huskiness in his voice made her skin hot, her pulse jump and stretched her nerves to breaking point. Her dress rustled as she lifted her arms and twisted her hair into a bun. Wisps escaped the knot, but her hands were trembling so Liz left them. Releasing the handbrake, she stared straight ahead and whispered, “I can’t.”
“That’s okay, too.” He stepped back, swallowed by the dark.
Halfway to the gate, Liz braked and backed up. “I’m not staying,” she said through the open window, “but Fred wants to kiss you. Once.”
If he’d shown any amusement she would have accelerated, but he simply nodded.
Before she could change her mind, Liz got out of the car, grasped Luke’s arms in a straitjacket hold, closed her eyes and plunged. Her lips collided with his jaw.
Hopeless. She was hopeless at this. Embarrassed, she released him. His fingers closed around her arms.
“Try again.”
“Okay.” She took a deep breath, then to Luke’s surprise, stepped closer and wound her arms around his neck. Her breasts—soft and full—pressed against his chest, her slender legs bumped his thighs.
Distracted by the feel of her, this time Luke didn’t see Liz coming. Her mouth connected unerringly with his. Automatically, his arms came up around her waist. He waited.
The moon appeared from behind a cloud, flooding them with light. Her eyelids fluttered open. This close he could see every emotion. Confusion, desire, indecision.
His conscience pricked him. Maybe he shouldn’t have encouraged this but dammit, he was only
human. Then her lips, blood-warm, moved tentatively against his mouth, and her tongue, moist and sweet, teased for entry. Heat scorched south along male neural pathways and unleashed the self-restraint he’d practiced for too many weeks.
Catching her face in his hands, he opened his mouth and let her in, hungry for the taste of her, hungry for the feel of her, just damn hungry. His arms closed around her and he backed her up against the car, imprinting her body with his.
Deliberately, he sparked a long, languorous, slow-burning fuse of a kiss that fired closer and closer to the point of no return. He could feel her body grow heavier, melding to every muscle and sinew of his until he knew he had her.
Luke lifted his head. “Well?”
“I’ll stay,” she gasped.
“Are you sure?”
The resolve in her eyes wavered. “Yes, but…” There was always a but. “I don’t want to use you, Luke.”
It was a crazy thing to say given his erection was pressing against her stomach and she was clutching his open waistcoat in a death grip, but despite his amusement, he felt a warmth that had nothing to do with anything physical. All his life people had used him—his athletic ability, his fame and his wealth.
Luke leaned forward. “I’m giving you permission,” he whispered in her ear, and on a shiver she turned her head and captured his mouth. He put no brakes on this kiss—hot, deep and carnal—it was designed to bypass her last scruples. Instead, her surrender shattered his self-control.
Legs like jelly, Liz clutched Luke’s shoulders, lost in the incredible sensations aroused by his tongue. He slid a hand up to cup one of her breasts, his thumb beside her nipple, and she ached for his touch but remorseless, he let his hand lie, burning her through the chiffon bodice.
Gasping, Liz shoved him away. “No teasing. I can’t stand it.”
“If I touch you,” Luke said hoarsely, “I’ll take you right here.”
She dug her nails into his shoulder. “If you keep looking at me like that I’ll let you.”
“That does it.” He grabbed her hand and hauled her back toward the house, swerving left down a garden path leading to the dark shape of the guest cottage.
Stumbling to keep up with him, Liz stepped out of her heels and left them behind. The gravel path was sharp under her tender feet; but she didn’t care.
“One time only,” she reminded him.
“One night only,” he corrected. “It’s going be more than once.”
Liz felt dizzy. “And this won’t affect our friendship.”
“No, back to normal tomorrow.”
She knew at this point they’d promise each other anything. Still, there was a reassurance in talking about tomorrow. Because right now was getting scary again.
As they reached the door, the security light came on, shining off Luke’s dark hair, casting shadows across his face, grimly intent as he used his key. His gaze lifted to hers and his pupils were wide and fathomless.
She gulped.
“Too late,” he said and pulled her inside.
CHAPTER TEN
THROUGH THE DOOR’S antique glass the security light painted the hallway in monochromatic shades of soft whites and sharp-edged black.
Liz held tighter to Luke’s hand as he led her farther into the darkness. He squeezed her fingers. “Lights on or off?”
She swallowed. “On.” Reluctant as she was to be seen naked, she couldn’t be ashamed of this.
There was a click, and the room was suffused in a golden glow. The homestead was a clever combination of classic and modern but the guest cottage made no compromises. Light gleamed off the polished kauri floorboards and ceiling, struck the brass candlesticks on the tiny ornamental fireplace.
The walls were an eggshell blue, the curtains extravagant billows of dusky pink. Luke’s clothes were strewn over a tiny pedestal table and equally dainty chairs but it was the bed that caught Liz’s attention, with its headboard of finely wrought Victorian brass, delicate crocheted white bedspread and feather pillows.
Pristine. White. Waiting.
Her heart started to pound harder. Luke pulled the drapes over the bay window, shutting out the world, and turned around. The room’s delicate femininity made him somehow more male, more dangerous and more potent. Maybe she’d tie him to that headboard and run.
She was conscious of her dishevelment, the dress clinging to her body in the hot night, the impropriety of sleeping with a man she didn’t love.
He turned on an overhead fan and the soft whir stirred her blood. “Come over here,” he said softly and the look in his eyes thrilled her with pleasurable terror.
“I’ll meet you halfway.”
“Whatever you say.” She didn’t understand his grin until he sprawled on the bed. As Liz bit her lip, he caught her in his arms and pulled her on top of him. “Relax, I won’t bite—unless you want me to.”
Liz pushed up until she was sitting astride him, hands planted on his chest, her green chiffon almost gaudy against the white sheets. She’d been about to remonstrate, but his words, the way he said them, and the feel of him, hard and hot between her legs, stopped her.
“Ah,” he said, “you do want me to.”
“I don’t know what I want.” But that wasn’t true. She wanted sensual oblivion, to fill up all the empty, cold places with his heat, his vitality. For a little while.
He was watching her carefully. “You want to be touched,” he said, wound her hair around his big hands and drew Liz down into a kiss that thawed her all the way through. His strong fingers brushed lightly over her face, her bare shoulders and arms, sensitizing and attuning her flesh to his. Stroking her everywhere except where Liz grew desperate to be stroked. Until she’d had enough of waiting.
Hands trembling, she wrestled with the buttons of his shirt, yanking it apart and running her hands down the smooth, warm pecs, his nipples, the ridges of his stomach, sliding her fingers along what she could reach of his incredible biceps. She’d wanted to do this for so long. She bent to lick a nipple, a flat disc against the muscle, and Luke groaned and stopped playing.
He shoved down her spaghetti straps, struggled with the zip at the back of her dress. She helped him, and the chiffon and satin fell with a slither around her waist. And then his hands were skimming over her breasts, thumbing her nipples at last. At last. Driving her crazy until she thrust them in his face because she had to have more.
His mouth closed on a nipple, he suckled, then moved to the other, circling, tugging, tormenting. On a gasp, she anchored her hands in his hair, soft under her restless fingers, and instinctively moved her lower body along his erection.
His large hands slid under her dress and cupped her bottom, encouraging the movement, and sensation started building too fast in her. Making love with Harry had always been tender and slow, a gentle buildup to a civilized release. But there was nothing civilized about this.
Liz released Luke’s hair. “Stop!” But his mouth still hot on her breast, he tightened his hold, sliding her remorselessly over the edge. Her orgasm was convulsive, intense. She cried out and fell forward until his face was pressed between her breasts while her heart slammed against his cheek.
She was probably suffocating him but Liz couldn’t move, the fan drying her light perspiration of heat and exertion and arousal. His husky laugh vibrated through her ribs and she forced herself to roll off him onto her back. Turning her head, she saw the male complacency in his expression and felt momentarily irritated. He looked so damn together. Then she smiled and kissed the tip of his nose. “Thank you.”
Surprise flickered in his eyes. “I’m never going to work you out, am I?”
Not if she could help it. “Take off your clothes.”
Luke grinned. As he got out of bed to disrobe, she squirmed out of the rest of her dress and burrowed under the sheet, cool and crisp against her overheated skin, then pulled off her panties.
The muscles in his back rippled as Luke shrugged off his shirt and turned around. Seeing he
r under the sheet, he smiled, but he said nothing as he unzipped his suit pants and let them fall.
Feet planted slightly apart, he let her look her fill before hooking his thumbs in his boxers, pulling her gaze down to the cut muscle of his abdomen where the V between his narrow hips was a visual arrow to his groin. And stepped out of them. Her throat tightened. There were some things she hadn’t seen during their swimming lessons.
He gestured to the sheet. “Now you.” Reluctantly, she dropped it to her waist. “Uh-uh. All the way, Fred. I like to look, too.”
She kicked her feet free and concentrated on counting her toes.
The mattress sunk as Luke sat on the bed. “Do you know how long I’ve been imagining your body naked? I feel like a kid at Christmas, not sure what to play with first.”
She smiled and pushed him back on the pillows. “Flatterer.”
“I don’t lie and in case you haven’t noticed, neither does my body.”
“I noticed.” She’d admired his body from a distance for so long, it seemed incredible that tonight it was hers to explore. With her fingers, she traced the strong curve of his jaw, his lashes, sooty and thick, and the straight outline of his mouth. She pressed her lips to the pulse in his neck, drawn by the life there, nipped lightly.
He growled and reached for her, but she caught his hands and curled them around the brass bed head. “It’s your turn.”
His skin was surprisingly smooth over his undulating muscle. With her mouth and tongue Liz explored the dips and hollows and ridges of the compact muscle, shaking with increasing passion. There was a heady freedom in her emotional distance, safety in their friendship.
His knuckles were white on the polished brass long before she reached his narrow hips, the smattering of light hair below his navel.
Unceremoniously, she was hauled up his body, skin gliding against skin. “It’s been too long for that.” His voice shook, and Liz was glad because she didn’t want this ferocity of need to be one-sided.