by Fiona Lowe
She wasn’t aware if he lowered his mouth to hers or if she rose on her toes to close the slight gap, but the scratch of his stubble was prickling her cheek as his lips missed the mark. Not a perfect kisser after all, she reminded herself. Yet another faulty memory you’ve attributed to him. Then his hands gently cupped her cheeks, tilting her head, and he angled his mouth over hers—warm, soft lips—in a perfect fit.
A sigh rolled through her but she cautioned herself—she’d be a poor scientist if she allowed the first data to overwhelm her.
His touch was light yet firm, generously giving but with a gentle enquiry—Are you sure you want this? In the pursuit of her own scientific endeavours, she opened her mouth under his and he slowly and leisurely slipped in. It was in sharp contrast to the younger Charlie, who had kissed her long and hard until she’d run out of breath and seen stars. Regret for the enthusiasm of youth tugged at her.
Did he taste different? While she trawled her memory, her tongue was flicking, savouring and dissecting his flavours. Peppermint, coffee and something delicious. What was it? She stroked his mouth again and he suddenly groaned. His arms wrapped around her hips and he pulled her in close until she was flattened against him. Every part of him pressed her from chest to toe, filling every nook and valley.
Heat exploded, blasting her and igniting her desire until it was a raging fireball that melted her into a puddle of delicious and addictive sensations. Charlie’s restrained kiss vanished, replaced by an all-encompassing onslaught that made resistance not only futile but impossible. The squawks of indignant seagulls, the gentle lap of the sea against the sand, the low buzz of traffic and the occasional shouts of children receded. She no longer had the ability to examine, question and deduce.
All that mattered was Charlie’s touch, his taste, and the wondrous feel of him. She rested her cast on his chest and gripped his shoulder for support while her other hand roved through his hair. As their mouths duelled hot, hard and with an intensity that demanded their all, her breath came fast and shallow. Silver spots shimmered and spun behind her closed eyes and she didn’t know if she wanted to passively allow him to kiss her so she could savour it all or if she wanted to take control and dominate him.
His mouth slipped along her jaw, burning a trail of wonder and promise. Without any conscious thought her head fell back, exposing her neck. She craved his touch like a starving woman craved food and she took everything he offered. As he nuzzled her neck, his lips and tongue marking her skin with his touch, his hair brushed her face. The faint scent of cedar and masculine sweat tangled in her nostrils and she dragged in a deep breath, filling herself with it before kissing his hair. His lips reached the top of her tank top and the swell of her breast. He gave a gentle nip.
Her body jerked. Pleasure whipped her from head to toe, ramping up her need to fever pitch. She was no longer human—she was a mass of spinning and whirling elements driven by a yearning that dominated everything and left her panting. Every cell in her body hungered for him, demanding to be fed and filled. She heard a low, animal-like growl but she couldn’t tell if it came from him or her.
Her blood pounded loud in her ears, deafening her, but slowly the insistent buzzing and the shrill and regular ring of a bell penetrated her haze. Gasping, she gripped his head and somehow managed to stutter, ‘Ph-phone.’
Charlie drew back, his chest heaving, and he stared at her with unfocused navy eyes lit with a desire that matched her own. The pull was so strong she almost threw her arms around him again but the shriek of a child broke the spell. She took in their surroundings. They were standing just off to the side of a public car park. Oh, God, who had seen them?
‘You going to answer that?’ Charlie asked hoarsely.
Her trembling fingers pulled her phone out of the pocket of her shorts. ‘H-hello.’
‘Lauren, are you running?’ Her mother’s voice rattled down the line confused and concerned.
‘N-no.’
‘Then why are you out of breath?’
Because I’ve just been kissed senseless. But before she could coordinate her lust-soaked and scattered mind to muster a reply, her mother continued, ‘Are your ribs okay? I hope you’re not overdoing things.’
‘No, Mum. Promise.’
‘Good. The reason I’m ringing is that Shaylee says you and Charlie had a bet about the calamari. Something about the person who didn’t hook the first catch cooks? Anyway, she got very upset when I started preparing the squid and she’s insistent the two of you are coming over to cook it.’
Lauren’s stomach fell as she recalled her and Charlie flirting over the top of Shaylee’s glossy-haired head. ‘The bet was just a joke, Mum,’ she said quickly.
Charlie shot her an enquiring look and she shook her head. Just as she turned away she heard his phone ring.
‘The thing is, darling,’ her mother said firmly, ‘Shaylee believes you were serious. You know how often she’s been let down and how hard Dad and I have been working to get her to trust us. She’s eight, Lauren. She doesn’t understand jokes like that. To her it’s the truth and I really don’t want this to set her back.’
Lauren was spun back in time to her childhood. You’re the lucky one, Lauren. You know we love you. Now, share your toys. Childhood guilt at being asked again to set aside her own needs tangoed with her adult self and she swallowed a sigh. ‘I get it, Mum. I’ll come over.’
‘Thank you.’
She heard the rumble of her father’s voice in the background. ‘But you’re going to have to teach me how to prepare and cook calamari.’
‘You never know, Charlie might be an expert.’
Her mouth dried. ‘Mum, I doubt Charlie will come.’ Especially as there’s no way in hell I’m asking him to a family dinner. ‘He’s in Horseshoe Bay to spend time with his grandmother and we can’t steal him away from her.’
‘Oh, Charlie’s coming, darling, and so is Anna,’ her mother said breezily. ‘Your father’s just spoken to him.’
What? She spun around to see Charlie sliding his phone into his pocket. He gave her a thumbs-up.
Fabulous. Just freakin’ fabulous. She slumped against the Norfolk pine, immune to the rough bark sticking into her and the likely chance of resin staining her clothes. So much for a logical, rational and dispassionate kiss proving she was no longer attracted to him. Her experiment had run off the rails in spectacular style. She’d held nothing back and even if Charlie had been a stranger, not an ex, he wouldn’t have to connect very many dots to know she’d been on fire for him. Wanted him. Had come close to committing public indecency with him. Even a guy without a surgeon’s ego would be strutting like a rooster after such a display.
It took everything she had not to drop her head in her hands and moan. After Jeremy, she was determined never to reveal anything of herself to a man other than superficial and non-important thoughts and feelings. No man was ever going to have power over her again and yet, with one kiss, she’d handed Charlie power on a plate. To add insult to injury, now they had to cook together in the close confines of her parents’ kitchen and under the eagle eye of her mother, who saw everything and missed nothing. If Lauren had any chance of surviving this evening with her dignity intact, there needed to be rules—very clear, concise and rigid rules.
* * *
Charlie had the sudden urge to whistle and, so help him, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d chirped out a tune. His life might be in a tailspin but thankfully some things didn’t change—Lauren Fuller could still kiss. His memory hadn’t failed him: she was as responsive and as generous with her kisses as she’d been at eighteen. The hot and demanding play of her mouth under his, the flat press of her breasts against his chest and the brush of her thigh between his legs had brought dusty memories roaring back to life in vivid, living colour.
He grinned—it had been a hell of a walk down memory lane accompanied by the delic
ious release of a torrent of feel-good memories. Now those memories tempted him with many more—Lauren, naked and with shining eyes, straddling him. Both of them naked, sweaty and moaning as he slid into her—
The hot blast of desire sent his blood south, making him hard in a way he hadn’t known in a long while. There was no doubt about it. Lauren was still good for him and, going on that kiss, she still wanted him. He planned to put that knowledge to good use so they both benefited. Closing the small gap between them, he pressed his hands against the bark above her head and gazed down at her.
She slowly raised her head and fixed her luminous eyes on him. He’d been expecting to see the same bright lust that had shimmered so brightly in their depths just five minutes ago. But instead of naked need, they glinted sharp and clear, in focus and with businesslike intent. ‘As you know, my parents are expecting us and—’
‘Don’t stress. I get it.’ He tapped his nose. ‘No kissing in the kitchen.’
Relief filled her face. ‘Exactly. Or anywhere in my parents’ house.’ She ducked as he lowered his head to steal a kiss. ‘And no more kissing in public places either.’
‘Spoilsport,’ he teased. ‘Just for the record, I’m totally on board with kissing in private places.’ He waited for her to laugh in agreement, but she swallowed and her tongue flicked out to moisten her lips. It took every gram of restraint that he had not to kiss her.
‘Actually, Charlie, I don’t think us kissing is a very good idea, full stop.’
If he’d anticipated her reply, it wasn’t this. ‘Why on earth not? I definitely got the impression you enjoyed it as much as I did.’
She raised her hand as if she was going to brush his cheek but instead let it drop back to her side. ‘Enjoyment has nothing to do with anything.’
‘Enjoyment has everything to do with it.’ For a second he thought he felt her prevaricate, topple even towards the desire that constantly spun around them, drawing them together. But when she spoke, he knew it had been wishful thinking.
‘Yesterday we agreed that you’re going to continue working one session a day at the clinic. That means, come Monday, we’re working together.’
When she had informed him that she was coming back to work part time next week, he’d almost begged her to let him continue working at the clinic. So, they were both working at the surgery, big deal. No matter which way he came at it, he couldn’t see a problem. ‘But we’re not technically working together. We’re doing opposite sessions.’
‘It still makes us colleagues. Look, I just don’t need the locals gossiping and I really don’t want my parents misinterpreting anything and...’
‘And what?’ He needed all the information so he could debunk it and lead her back to what he wanted—Lauren in his arms and in his bed.
She sighed and embarrassment burned two pink spots on her cheeks. ‘I don’t want them getting their hopes up when we’d only be having fun.’
‘R-r-r-right,’ he said slowly but thinking fast. First up, Lauren clearly wasn’t entertaining a future with him—good.
Really?
Yes!
Second, he knew all about the hopes and dreams parents held for their children. He was also intimate with the vitriol that inevitably followed when hopes shattered and disillusionment and disappointment set in.
He liked Sue and Ian Fuller and he didn’t want to set up any unrealistic expectations either, but kissing Lauren had kick-started a need for her that, if he was honest with himself, despite twelve intervening years, had never really left him. ‘What if I gave up the sessions at the clinic and we keep us secret?’ For a moment she was completely still and then she laughed—a huge, body-rocking belly laugh that shook her, sending her hair bouncing around her face.
Indignation shot through him. ‘What’s so funny?’
‘Oh, come on,’ she spluttered. ‘Even you must hear how ridiculous that statement sounds. You’re a workaholic, Charlie. You’re barely coping with afternoons off as it is, let alone filling a whole day.’
It was true. Although he enjoyed Gran’s company, he’d sought out Lauren’s company every day after work to help pass the long hours. God, he’d even turned up at the pier today to fish when he’d overheard Ian chatting to Lexie about it. Still, right up until now, fishing had paid off in spades.
‘And,’ she continued, the laughter completely gone, ‘I’m not a hobby to help you pass the time.’
‘I never intimated that you were.’ Her words—so off the mark—stung but he quickly recovered, pushing down his hurt—the intensity of it surprising him. Stepping back, he said purposefully, ‘Don’t worry. I’ll be the perfect guest in your parents’ home.’
‘Charlie...’
But he didn’t want to hear platitudes or excuses—especially ones that wouldn’t change a damn thing. He clapped his hands as he did just before surgery when he was focusing his team. ‘So, we’re cooking calamari. I’ll pick up Gran then meet you there. What’s your parents’ address?’
CHAPTER FIVE
IT WAS UNSEASONABLY humid due to a storm front hammering Horseshoe Bay and bringing a month’s rain in a day. Like water pounding over the Triptych falls, it thundered on the roof of the clinic, making it hard to hear, let alone think. The moisture-laden air made Lauren’s arm itch like crazy and she was sorely tempted to reach for the plaster saw and break her prickly skin out of its entrapment. Between the rain, the itching of her skin and the needling of her conscience, she was irritable.
‘Dennis,’ she said sharply in response to her recalcitrant patient’s outlandish claims. ‘The direct link between smoking and respiratory disorders, lung cancer, bladder cancer and heart disease are not conspiracy theories. There are reams of research backing up hard, cold facts.’ She slapped a Quit brochure down in front of him. The king of excuses had chosen the wrong day to trot out this particular argument. ‘Either you give up the ciggies or you’ve got an oxygen tank in your future like Brett Sedara.’
‘Jeez, Doc, don’t sugar-coat it,’ Dennis grumbled. ‘What’s biting you?’
‘This damn cast.’ Only it wasn’t just the cast. It was Charlie. Over the last four days when they’d crossed paths at the surgery, he’d been excruciatingly polite—Shore Road polite was what the locals called it. The manners of the well-heeled who could wield a social nicety like it was a weapon.
On Saturday night he’d charmed her parents and Shaylee, involving the little girl in the cooking of the calamari. He’d set her up at the bench and as she’d dredged calamari in flour, he’d explained that if she wanted to fish she also needed to learn how to cook her catch. Lauren suspected Shaylee would have been prepared to do almost anything—even deal with the guts of the calamari—if it meant having Charlie’s undivided attention.
He and Anna had presented her parents with a bottle of sparkling Chardonnay Pinot Noir, which had not only matched the meal perfectly and tasted like ambrosia but had added a zero to the dollar amount she and her parents usually spent on wine. Sitting around the old oak table with its evidence of decades of family meals scored into the wood, they’d all eaten and drunk their fill while Charlie had entertained them, telling what she guessed were sanitised stories of his off-duty exploits in far-flung countries.
Despite his humour, she couldn’t shift the feeling that it was all a façade—a decoy to hide his true feelings, whatever the heck they were. Despite the fact he looked slightly less exhausted than when he’d first arrived in Horseshoe Bay, she was certain that he was suffering. Exactly how or why continued to elude her. She wanted to help him but it was hard to help someone who blocked all serious lines of enquiry.
And then there was the aftermath of their ill-conceived kiss. Given she’d been the one to demand no public displays of affection, or, to be completely accurate, no displays of affection whatsoever, he’d been nothing short of polite with her since. What she hadn’t anticipated w
as the complete absence of banter. She hated that she missed it. Hated discovering that his teasing and flirting had given her a buzz—a lightness of being—that she hadn’t even been aware of until it had vanished.
She printed off Dennis’s prescription for nicotine patches and after seeing him out, she scanned the unusually empty waiting room. The windows, which had been running with rain for hours, were now splattered with dribbles that slowly formed rivulets. ‘Anyone else coming in, Lexie, or are we done for the day?’
‘We’re done. They either don’t want to get wet or they’re dealing with minor flooding at home.’
‘Do we have any leaks?’ Lauren had spent a chunk of her business loan on re-roofing the clinic.
‘Looks like it’s holding but tomorrow’s the test. Sometimes it takes a while for the stains to appear. Seeing as we don’t have anyone else booked, do you mind if I take an early mark and check on my house?’
‘Good idea. I should check on the cottage too.’
‘I’ll put the emergency number sign on the door and switch on the answering-machine. I doubt anyone will need us.’
Lauren laughed. ‘It always intrigues me how something that is supposedly urgent suddenly isn’t if the weather is horrendously wet like this or gloriously sunny.’
Ten minutes later, Lauren was driving home with the air-conditioning blasting. The sun now shone hot and purposeful through a gap in the heavy clouds and steam rose from the road in grey wisps. It felt like tropical Queensland instead of coastal Victoria. The radio announced a flood warning for the Koonya Creek and the SES stressed the importance of not taking any risks by driving through flood waters. School was out and Lauren slowed at the forty-kilometre zone, laughing as she watched lines of children zigging and zagging so they could jump in every puddle. It wasn’t just the primary school students either—the high school teens were getting into the spirit as well.