He’d had a hard time concentrating all afternoon, buoyed up by the idea of seeing her at the end of his working day. It had been a long time since he’d looked forward to the evenings. Years ago, maybe, when he was first married to Nita, before she got too homesick and she was still enjoying the novelty of living in the bay. Certainly, as the years had gone by and her resentment had grown, he’d found excuses to stay at the surgery and limit his time at home. He wasn’t proud of it, but when he’d known that as soon as he walked through the door the arguments would begin, it hadn’t made him eager to finish his day.
Since she’d left, going home had been a different experience. He’d sold the family house they’d shared and given her half the proceeds, and he now rented a much smaller place on a hill overlooking the ocean. He paid for a cleaner, and it was much nicer coming home at night to a peaceful place where everyone was happy to see him.
Having two dogs waiting for him was great. Having a sexy woman waiting to have dinner with him was even better.
Bridget was gradually relaxing in his company, and although she wasn’t exactly laughing inanely at everything he said, her smile appeared more readily than it had over the weekend, and her body had released some of its tension.
He couldn’t ignore her suggestive comment or the light in her eyes whenever she looked at him, but he knew he mustn’t read too much into it. It was difficult, though. His body didn’t want to listen to his brain. He’d thought her beautiful in the hotel, but here, tonight, he found it difficult not to stare at her all the time. She’d tamed her hair into a braid that fell over one shoulder, leaving several tendrils to curl enticingly around her temples. Were they natural? He wanted to reach across and slip them through his fingers to see if her hair felt as silky as it looked.
Her eyes were free of the elaborate makeup that had turned her into a panda, but she looked better for it. Her clear skin had flushed a little from the wine or the warm sun. She’d worn some kind of lipstick or gloss that had given her lips a shine when they’d first met. As she’d eaten it had disappeared, but now she’d finished her meal she sat back and retrieved a clear tube from her bag, slicked it across her lips, and pressed them together in the age-old female gesture that made him want to lean over and kiss her.
He swallowed hard and focused on the dessert menu. At this rate he’d end up with indigestion and a raging hard-on to end the evening, and although his erection might be hoping for some action, it wasn’t going to get any, so it might as well stop bothering him.
He thinks you’re going to seduce me and ravage me. Jeez. No wonder he was having trouble concentrating.
“What are you going to have?” She put down her menu and smiled at him. “I’m having the Tiramisu.”
He laid the menu aside. “I’ll just have coffee. I’m not a dessert kind of guy.”
Her eyebrows rose. “You don’t like Tiramisu?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever had it.”
Comically, her eyebrows rose even higher. “I’m sorry, I think I misheard you then. You’ve never had Tiramisu?”
He chuckled. “I don’t have a sweet tooth.”
“Yes, but… it’s Tiramisu! How could you have got to—how old are you?”
“Thirty-four.”
“—thirty-four and never had Tiramisu?”
She looked completely baffled, as if he’d said he’d never seen the sun or tasted water.
Now he was most amused. “I don’t know.”
“You haven’t even had it… you know?”
“What?”
Her eyes took on a sexy, impish glint. “It’s supposed to be an aphrodisiac.”
“Seriously?”
“Have you never seen Sleepless in Seattle?”
“No.”
“Oh my God. My brain’s going to explode.”
He began to laugh. “Clearly I need educating.”
“Damn straight. Well, let’s start with this. During the Renaissance, Venetians made Tiramisu to eat with their lovers because they thought it gave them energy during sex.”
“I see.” Just the mention of sex starting his heart racing again. For fuck’s sake. He felt like a sixteen-year-old. It was only because he hadn’t had slept with anyone for two years, eleven months, and twelve days. Not that he was counting or anything.
“Maybe you should initiate me,” he said. He watched her moisten her lips with the tip of her tongue and then realized how she might have interpreted that. “With the Tiramisu I meant, not the sex bit.”
She leaned forward, her gaze resting on his mouth. “You don’t want sex?”
“I…” His brain had gone blank, his lips refusing to move as she studied them as if she was thinking of kissing him. “I’m a guy,” he managed eventually. “Of course I want sex. But not with you. I mean, I do,” he added desperately, “of course I do… I mean, I don’t want to…” He saw a twinkle appear in her eye and gave up.
“You’re very sweet,” she said.
“I don’t like that word,” he grumbled. “Makes me sound like a wuss.”
“Absolutely not. Tiramisu is sweet. It’s also rich and dark and sexy, and it melts on your tongue and tastes heavenly.”
“I’m not rich,” he said weakly.
She laughed. “That’s the least of my worries.”
The waitress came to take their orders and gave them a puzzled look as they both tried not to laugh while ordering their Tiramisu. When she’d gone, Bridget leaned on the table again and put a hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry. I’m teasing you, and that’s not fair when you’ve been so nice to me.”
“I don’t mind.” He was having more fun tonight than he’d had for a long time. “I’m enjoying myself. You’re a lovely girl and I’m flattered that you’d come out to dinner with me. But I don’t want to take advantage of you when you’ve had a tough time and are emotionally vulnerable. As much as I want to kiss you, I know that wouldn’t be the right thing to do.” His words held an air of desperation.
She tipped her head to the side. “You don’t think I know my own mind?”
“You know that’s not what I’m saying.”
They studied each other for a long moment. His pulse raced, but he made himself sit still and wait for her to speak. The sun had almost sunk below the horizon, flooding the ocean and sky with a beautiful palette of oranges, purples, and reds. The waitress stopped to turn on the deck heater, and a pleasant warmth washed over them.
Something seemed to be hanging in the air between them like a sparkling mist, full of promise and anticipation. He was afraid to breathe out in case he blew it away.
“You look anxious,” she said.
He picked up his wine and took a mouthful. “These are unusual circumstances. We don’t know each other very well. You said that Mal had been your only boyfriend.”
“Yes.”
“I haven’t slept with anyone else since I met Nita, and not even her for years.”
“You haven’t been with anyone else since you broke up?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged. “The separation was hard. Life with her wasn’t easy, but I missed her, and I missed my son. I suppose for a long time I hoped it was temporary and we’d get back together again, but even when I knew that wasn’t going to happen, it took me a long while to get over it. Maybe I still haven’t. I don’t know. I’ve needed that time on my own to let everything settle, and I know it sounds incredibly corny, but to find myself again.”
“But you think you’re ready?”
He turned his wine glass around by the stem. “I haven’t even thought about it until now.” The notion of dating again at his age had horrified him. Like most guys, he loved sex, but he’d never had a one-night stand, and paying for it was out of the question. Part of him had wondered whether he might stay single. He knew not all relationships ended in disaster, but the idea of starting again, of beginning that slow, laborious dance of getting to know someone and discovering all about
them, hadn’t appealed at all.
The last thing he would have expected was to be sitting there having dinner with a beautiful woman who—if he wasn’t mistaken—was coming on to him something rotten.
The waitress came out with their desserts and placed them on the table. Aaron picked up a spoon and dipped it into the creamy mixture. Normally, he’d choose cheese and biscuits to finish off a meal rather than something sweet, but as he sampled his first taste of the chocolate-and-coffee-flavored creamy dessert, he could see what Bridget had been on about.
“Mmm.” She licked her lips as she swallowed. “That is just heavenly.”
“It’s not bad.” He had another spoonful.
“There is something seriously wrong with you.”
He laughed and took a sip of wine. “Maybe.” He watched her lips close around the spoon, the dreamy look on her face as she swallowed. Dear God. His mind was turning everything to sex.
She dipped the spoon in again, and then her gaze drifted out to sea, focusing on a spot way off in the distance.
“Are you thinking about Mal?”
She looked back at her dessert. “Yes.”
“Do you feel guilty being here with me?”
Her gaze came back to him, and he was surprised to see determination, not sadness, in her eyes. “Guilty? No. I owe him no loyalty. I was thinking about how different my life could have been in another dimension. I could have been sitting in a hotel in Vanuatu, newly married, with a lifetime ahead of me with him by my side.” She met his gaze and crossed her eyes.
He laughed. “You don’t miss him?”
She ate a spoonful of dessert thoughtfully, then sighed and sat back. “Will you promise not to think I’m a terrible person if I admit something to you?”
“Of course.”
“Over the past week, once the humiliation and embarrassment died down, the strongest emotion I felt was relief.”
His eyebrows rose. “Really?”
“Yes. Isn’t that terrible?”
“It’s honest.”
A touch of pink appeared in her cheeks. “You must think me incredibly hard and unfeeling.”
“Honey, I’m amazed you’re not sticking pins in a voodoo doll of him. I’d be shocked if you weren’t relieved at that lucky escape.”
“I’m aware it must sound a little like sour grapes, as if I’m saying that now he doesn’t want me, I never wanted him in the first place, but I swear that’s not it. I spent days walking along the beach, letting everything settle, like waiting for a storm to die down. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that a lot of what I was feeling in the first few days was connected with everyone else, and what they must be thinking of me.”
“I was like that after Nita and I separated,” he admitted. “It’s difficult to admit a relationship has ended. I felt a failure. I thought that I must have been a terrible husband, and maybe I hadn’t paid her enough attention, or told her I loved her enough.”
“That’s right.” She looked relieved that he understood. “I suppose most people’s first reaction is to assume they’re in the wrong. And look, I want to say that it wasn’t all Mal’s fault. What he did to a woman he’d been with for so long was cruel and unkind, but I know I pressured him into getting married.”
She held her hand up as Aaron tried to protest. “I’m not being self-pitying, just truthful with myself. I should have seen that his reluctance to commit meant we weren’t right for each other, and he should have been honest with me too and told me how he really felt. I do think he loved me, in his way, but we were convenient for each other. We’d been together a long time, and we stayed together out of habit more than anything. It’s nice not to have to worry about dating—to have a partner on call for social occasions, for companionship, for sex. But that’s not a good enough reason to get married. I know that now.”
“I know what you mean. I believe that if a relationship is in trouble, a couple should do everything they can to make it work. The divorce rate is so high nowadays, I’m sure, because people give up at the first sign of trouble. Although it’s natural to feel guilty, I believe that I did everything I could to make Nita happy, short of actually moving to Spain.”
“Do you wish you had now?”
“No. My home is here. I help my sister with her kids sometimes if her husband’s working. My parents aren’t getting any younger. I like it here, and I don’t want to leave. Relationships are—to a certain extent—about compromise, and I was happy to compromise on what food I ate, what color to paint the walls, and what we did socially. It was always me who gave way in almost everything to keep the peace. But leaving the country was one thing, fair or not, that I couldn’t bring myself to do.”
“I understand.” She finished off the last mouthful of her Tiramisu.
He’d had enough of the dessert and pushed the rest across in case she wanted it. She surveyed it for a moment, then drew the dish toward her.
He hid a smile. “Has Mal tried to contact you?”
“Yeah, he’s rung several times a day, every day, but I leave my phone off most of the time. I don’t want to talk to him. Maybe when I get back I will, just to round things off, but not yet.”
“But… you don’t think you’ll get back with him.”
“No.” She smiled. “I wouldn’t be here if I was, Aaron.”
He liked the way she said his name, how she rolled the vowels around her tongue and made it sound soft and sexy. It sounded as if she’d decided it was over with Mal.
He stared out to sea, feeling as if he was floundering in the deep blue water. He wished he knew what he should or ought to do, but there was no rule book, and no crystal ball to look into and see how it was all going to work out. He didn’t know how to put his own selfish desires to one side. You don’t think I know my own mind? she’d said. Maybe she was right, and if she said she wanted to go to bed with him, he should accept that she knew what she was doing and follow his heart.
Or his dick. It was unclear which was talking the loudest.
Chapter Twelve
Bridget finished off the last spoonful of dessert and pushed away the plate. Aaron had leaned back in his chair and was watching her. The wine had loosened her up and gotten rid of the last of the tension in her shoulders and back. It was a beautiful evening, the deck heater staving off the evening chill, the air filled with the sounds of people enjoying their meals and the gentle rolling of the waves on the shore.
Aaron’s eyes were still filled with desire, but his face was wary, and she understood why. Extending her arm, she offered her hand, palm up. He looked at it for a moment, then reached out to take it. His fingers were warm, and when he brushed his thumb across her knuckles, she had to stifle a shiver.
“I’ve had a lovely evening,” she said. “It’s been great to spend some time with you in clothes that actually fit.”
He laughed. “Yeah.”
Could she be brave enough to say it? Birdie would thank him for the meal and kiss him goodnight on the cheek before returning to the bed and breakfast alone. Birdie wouldn’t have done anything that anyone could criticize her for.
But she was tired of old Birdie. How was that living?
“Would you like a coffee?” he asked. “Or would you like to go for a walk along the beach?”
“A walk sounds lovely.”
“Come on, then. I hope you’ll let me pay? I am a tad old fashioned, and even though I’m not sure if this is technically a date, I’d like to pay.”
She smiled. “That would be lovely.”
So he paid, and then they walked down the steps and across the road onto the grassy verge beside the beach. Most of the shops had closed, but the cafés and restaurants were all open, spilling light onto the pavement, the sound of music filtering out and entwining with the light sea breeze. She’d discovered that twilight was practically non-existent up here, and it turned from light to dark quickly, without the gradual fading of light she was used to. The moon was out, and the
stars were already popping out in the sky.
“What a gorgeous evening,” she said.
“Mmm.” He smiled. His gaze had barely left her since they’d met. Her skin prickled as if there was static electricity all around, hairs rising on her arms and goose bumps appearing, and she wasn’t cold. Their hormones were having a conversation all of their own, her body reacting to him whether she wanted it to or not.
She’d never done anything like this before. She’d dated Mal for six months before she’d slept with him, and she’d never slept with anyone else. She was pretty sure that Aaron wouldn’t turn her down if she asked him to go to bed with her, but there was a risk, of course, if only because he had principles and felt he shouldn’t take advantage of her.
Could she really do it, though? Take her clothes off with a man she hardly knew? She was young and not bad looking, but she was a little heavier than she wanted, and not skinny like the models in magazines. It was one thing to talk about appreciating the moment, and another to let a man she’d just met see her naked and touch her…
“You’re blushing,” he said, amused. “Penny for them.”
She stopped walking. They were nearing the end of the beach, the restaurants behind them. The full moon cast a white path on the sea and highlighted them both with silver. They stood near a huge, old pohutukawa tree, its trunk and branches gnarled and twisted, not yet showing the scarlet flowers that would appear nearer to Christmas.
Surprise on his face, Aaron stopped too and faced her.
She shoved her hands in the pockets of her jacket, hunching her shoulders. “I want to say something, and hopefully you’ll let me finish, even if you think I’m making a fool of myself.” She didn’t let him answer. “I’ve spent almost a week on my own, thinking about Mal and what happened, and I’m very conscious that you’re worried I’m on the rebound. I’m sure you’re concerned that I’m feeling rejected and I’m desperate for reassurance, for someone to tell me I’m attractive. Hand on my heart, I can’t completely deny any of that—I wouldn’t be human if I could.”
Persuading Spring: A Sexy New Zealand Romance (The Four Seasons Book 4) Page 9