Bree shook out the two towels she’d brought from the car and collapsed on one, indicating for Merle to sit beside her. She did so, stretching out her legs and leaning back, letting the sun warm her through. It had been a cold autumn in England, with snow in November, and she’d thought she’d never be warm again.
“Beer? Or Diet Coke?”
Neon crouched beside a cooler, holding up two bottles.
“A beer would be lovely.” She didn’t normally drink it, but the idea of a cold lager appealed in the heat.
He twisted off the top and handed it to her, and she thanked him. Nodding, giving her a smile, he stood and walked off with Jake to where some of the guys were starting to throw a Frisbee around.
Merle glanced across at her sister. Bree had been watching them, and now raised her eyebrows and laughed.
“What?” said Merle. “He was just being nice.”
“Yes, he was. He also wants to rip all your clothes off.”
Chapter Two
Merle felt her cheeks flush red for the second time in about ten minutes. “Oh, for goodness’ sake. We were just talking.”
Bree’s eyes danced with amusement. “I think you’ve been out of the dating game too long, sis. If you’re missing signals like that, no wonder you’re still single.”
“I’m single by choice.”
“Hmm.” Bree gave her a look. “Have you had sex at all since you split up with Phil?”
“That’s none of your business,” Merle said, big-sister fashion, fixing her with a firm look.
“Oh my God.” Bree rolled her eyes. “Merle, seriously, are you aware that real penises don’t vibrate?”
“Bree!”
Her sister laughed out loud, reached across and patted Merle’s knee. “I’m sorry, I can’t help it, you’re so easy to tease!”
Merle said nothing, looking out to sea. Bree’s statement had touched a sore spot. It had indeed been over a year since she’d had sex, and though she would never have admitted it to Bree, she missed the intimacy, even though Phil had hardly set her alight in bed.
Bree reached out and grasped her hand. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t fair. I know it’s been a difficult year for you.”
“Just a bit.” Merle glanced across at her sister. “You should call Mum more often.”
Bree dropped her hand, turning her face up to the sun. “She depresses me. The more I ring, the more depressed I get.”
“I know, but she misses you so. She’s just lonely, Bree, and she’s not well, you mustn’t forget that.”
“I know she’s not well, but that’s no excuse for being so horrible to me.” When she looked over, Bree’s eyes were cold. “And to Jake. You don’t know everything she said to us before we moved out here. She was nasty, Merle. I haven’t forgiven her for that.”
“I know. It was only because she didn’t want to lose you.”
“I don’t care. You don’t say those kinds of things to your daughter when she’s getting married. She should have seen how excited I was and been happy for me. And anyway, she could come and visit. It’s not all down to me.”
Merle said nothing, absently watching Neon as he stretched up for the Frisbee, catching it easily, sending it spinning to one of the others with a flick of his wrist. Bree didn’t really have any idea what effect the illness had had on their mother. The cancer, jealousy and fear had eaten Susan from the inside out, and she was a shadow of the woman she’d once been. She would never be able to manage the twenty-six-hour plane journey, physically or mentally. And even if she were able to make the flight, she was just as stubborn as Bree and would never consent to visiting New Zealand. She would see it as giving in, accepting that Bree had been right to choose her husband over her mother.
Susan hadn’t always been this way. But the shock of the illness, combined with losing her husband a few years before, had seemed to lower her threshold of resistance and change her personality. She’d had the mastectomy and the cancer had apparently vanished, but she insisted she could feel it inside her, and Merle could almost see the dark hand of the disease still hovering over her mother, twisting her conception of the world and warping her love for her daughters.
“You do too much for her,” said Bree.
“She needs looking after.”
“She’s learned to rely on you. She’s not an invalid, Merle. But she is manipulative and devious. She’s got her claws in you and she’s not going to let you go easily, you do know that, don’t you?”
Merle spoke sharply. “Don’t talk about her like that, you know it upsets me. And anyway, I’m happy to look after her. I don’t need a lecture on how to run my life.”
Bree sighed. “I’m not giving you a lecture. I hate to see you not being able to live your life because of her. I mean, I know she had something to do with you splitting up with Phil, didn’t she?”
Merle said nothing. Bree was right that their mother had been the reason she and Phil split up, but it hadn’t been her mother’s fault. If anything, Susan had been a catalyst, an excuse for both her and Phil to bring to an end a relationship that had gradually petered out, like a firework that blazed briefly before dwindling to a gentle spark and finally a dull glow. Except it hadn’t really blazed that much in the first place. She’d agreed to go out with Phil because she’d been lonely, and even though their affection had eventually turned physical, she couldn’t honestly say in the bedroom they’d done anything but fizzle damply.
She hadn’t been as upset when they broke up as she’d thought she’d be when ending her first long-term relationship. Although she’d cried afterward, if she was honest, she knew it wasn’t because she missed him but because she was afraid she’d never meet a man who would make her feel the depth of emotion she longed for.
Bree took her silence as affirmation. “I knew it. I’m amazed she let you go long enough to come over here for a fortnight.”
Merle stared out to sea. Susan had begged her not to go, but Merle so wanted to see her sister that in the end she’d lost her temper with her mother, which she now regretted, guilt hovering like storm clouds. But it had been an exhausting term at work, and the weather had been bitterly cold. She’d been desperate to escape to somewhere warm, where she could have some freedom, even if it was temporary.
She sighed. “The last year hasn’t been much fun. Phil wasn’t exactly Casanova, but I did at least get out of the house with him.”
“I’m glad you’re here.” Bree reached over and squeezed her hand.
Merle smiled. Unbidden, her gaze sneaked to Neon, and she watched him standing with hands on hips, talking to Jake, his back to her. She took the opportunity to admire him, noting his long legs, strong shoulders and muscled arms. He must work out. And she absolutely adored tall men. At five-foot-ten, she didn’t often meet guys who towered over her.
He glanced over his shoulder suddenly, looking right at her, and, flustered, she looked away.
“You like him, don’t you?” said Bree.
“I think your husband’s lovely.” Merle brushed sand from her skirt, deliberately misunderstanding.
“I meant—”
“I know what you meant.” Merle sighed. “I’m terrible with men, Bree. I do try. I go out for dinner, or to the theatre, or the cinema. But I always end up thinking they’re idiots, and after two or three dates I call it off.”
“But you do like Neon.”
Merle looked across at her, and was unable to stop her lips curling. “Yes, of course I do. He’s gorgeous. But, sweetie, I live on the opposite side of the world. The last thing I need is to get myself caught up in the complication of a long-distance relationship.”
Bree shrugged. “Who said anything about a relationship? If I wanted to find you a husband, Neon would be the last person I’d pick. His middle name’s ‘Feral’. But if you want to get laid… He’s pretty good, by all accounts.” She winked at Merle. “You know it rusts up if you don’t use it.” She laughed at the indignant look on Merle’s face. “Your prob
lem is you’re aiming too high. You need to get back in the saddle. Stop thinking about long-term relationships and concentrate on sex.” Her gaze slid across to the guys. She looked back at Merle and waggled her eyebrows.
“A one-night stand?” Merle looked at her, horrified. “Oh my God, I couldn’t.”
Bree shrugged. “You’re halfway across the world where nobody knows you—apart from me and Jake. It’s the perfect opportunity to drop your professorial act and turn into a complete tramp. Who’s gonna know, for God’s sake?”
“How about me? And you and Jake? For a start.”
Bree snorted. “Well, I don’t care, and we just don’t tell Jake.” She glanced across at her sister, a gleam in her eye. “I bet you aren’t brave enough to have sex on holiday, with a complete stranger.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Stop being so bloody English, Merle. Loosen up a bit.”
“Ever heard of AIDS? And STDs? And pregnancy?” Merle’s back was ramrod straight with indignation.
“So use a frickin’ condom! Sis, you seriously need to loosen up. You’re so tight-laced you’re practically wearing a girdle.”
Merle sighed, looking at her sister. She knew what Bree was trying to say. The younger girl’s hair hung loose and tangled around her tanned shoulders. She wore an old, faded orange T-shirt and denim cutoffs, and she looked blissfully happy with her new life. Merle looked away, fighting an uncharacteristic surge of envy.
Bree studied her sister. “If you get yourself laid over the next fortnight, I’ll give you fifty bucks.”
Merle stared at her. “Twenty-five pounds? For my good reputation? Are you kidding me?”
“Fifty bucks for every time you get laid. And Merle—if you manage it five times, I’ll make it a round three hundred.”
Merle’s eyes widened. “Are you serious? You’re going to pay me to have sex?”
“No, I’m going to pay you to have fun. God knows you need it.” She motioned with her head toward Neon. “Imagine it, Merle. Wild holiday sex with a rugby-playing, surfing firefighter.”
“He’s a firefighter?” She stared at him. That would explain the physique.
“Every girl’s dream.” Bree grinned. “So are you going to accept?”
Merle said nothing for a moment. He wasn’t her sort at all. She went out with intellectuals. Men—usually quite a bit older than her—called Richard or William or Edward, who wore glasses and suits and sardonic smiles. Doctors and lawyers, whose physical activity extended to the occasional game of squash. Not young firefighters with ridiculous nicknames, who wore nothing but rather faded shorts. She doubted he could even spell “intellectual”. She went after men’s minds, not their tanned bodies, muscular arms and lazy, sexy smiles…
Oh come on, let’s be honest. Neon was hot enough to melt gold. Was the size of his brain relevant at all?
Impishly, she imagined kissing him, feeling his hand brushing up her thigh. Was she brave enough to take her sister up on her bet? Sex with a complete stranger? Merle closed her eyes momentarily, unable to believe she was even contemplating the crazy notion. It was the absolute, total opposite of anything she’d ever consider, the twelve midday to her twelve midnight, the South Pole to her North. Merle was a lecturer in archaeology, she was respected, dignified. She was bloody English, for God’s sake. She didn’t proposition complete strangers.
But the idea was like plastic wrap imbued with static—she couldn’t shake it off.
It was such a compelling thought, that was the problem. No strings, no worries about being right for each other, or whether you had anything in common, or deep discussions on the meaning of relationships. Just hot, breathless, sweaty sex with a hunky firefighter. The type of sex she’d seen in Hollywood movies. Fantasy sex, as opposed to rather dull, awkward, rarely inspirational, real-life sex. Somehow she just knew Neon would be good in bed. Something to do with his sexy smile. The thought made her feel faint.
She shook her head. This wasn’t her at all. She dated for weeks before she ventured near the bedroom. She didn’t have sex on the first date, and certainly not with someone she hardly knew. It was ridiculous. It was totally out of the question.
“Don’t be stupid,” she snorted in answer to Bree’s raised eyebrow as the guys began to walk toward them. “And for God’s sake, don’t say anything.”
Bree sighed. “Of course I won’t. Relax, Merle. If you want to shut up shop down there, I’m not going to stop you.”
“Bree—” But she had to end the conversation because the guys were too close. She satisfied herself with glaring at her sister, even though it was lost on her as she lay back and closed her eyes.
Neon threw himself on the sand next to Merle, picked up a pair of dark sunglasses and slipped them on. He stretched out, humming to a song playing on the radio. In spite of her promise to forget Bree’s bet, her gaze lingered on his muscular arms and solid legs, tanned and scattered with light brown hair. He was the complete opposite of the two men she’d gone to bed with in the past. Simon had been tall and skinny, and white as a snowflake in the English tradition, and while Phil had been broader, he could hardly have been called a candidate for surfer of the year. And neither of them had been particularly skilled in the sex area. Oh for a man who knew what he was doing in the bedroom…
Suddenly she realised she couldn’t see Neon’s eyes and wondered whether he was looking at her, watching her size him up. She stuck her tongue out at him and he rewarded her with a chuckle. He had indeed been watching her. Crap. She took a swig from her bottle, blushing again.
He cleared his throat. “How long have you been over here?”
She looked at him, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. “Only a few days. I haven’t been to New Zealand before, so I thought I’d see a bit of Auckland before I flew up.”
“What did you think of it?”
“It’s a nice city, lots of trees. I liked the museum on the domain.”
“Sounds like you lived it up,” Bree teased.
“Oh, I did other stuff—went to bars and picked up a couple of desperate men, visited a brothel, you know, the usual.”
Neon and Jake laughed.
“You can be less English without sinking to those depths,” Bree said, amused.
“Well, I didn’t walk around wearing a bowler hat and carrying an umbrella or anything.” Merle shot her sister an exasperated glance, irritated, her sister’s comment about shutting up shop still rankling. “Anyway, there’s nothing wrong with being English.”
“Unless you count Morris Dancing,” said Neon. “I’ve always wanted to see a performance. Will you give us a demonstration?”
Still annoyed, she couldn’t stop the sarcastic retort as she turned the glare on him. “Not tonight, Josephine.” Would he realise she was making reference to the fact that she knew his full name?
Neon stared at her, raised his sunglasses and glared at Bree.
“It’s not her fault,” said Merle, not wanting to get her sister in trouble. “I made an intelligent guess. I mean, Neon? It’s not really a name, is it?”
He looked at her, fixing her with his brown-eyed stare. “You can talk. Proud Titania.”
Bree burst out laughing at the look on Merle’s face. Jake looked from one to the other, confused. “What?”
Bree grinned. “Mum’s a Brontë nut and my sister’s named after Merle Oberon, the actress in the old 1930s version of Wuthering Heights. And Oberon’s in A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”
“Oh.” The joke had gone over Jake’s head.
“You look shocked I’ve heard of her.” Neon studied Merle’s face, obviously amused.
“I’m more surprised you’ve heard of Shakespeare.”
“Ooh.” Jake winced.
Bree laughed out loud. “That was a bit below the belt.”
Neon’s lips curled. “Course I have. Wilfred and I are like that.” He crossed his fingers.
Wilfred? Merle opened her mouth to correct him, saw his smile
and realised he was teasing her. She met his gaze, seeing the amusement in his eyes, and almost hidden, the hurt. She’d insulted his intelligence, unfairly it seemed. She looked away, embarrassed. What was wrong with her? She wasn’t normally rude or irritable like this. It must be the jet lag. That and the fact that Bree always knew how to get under her skin, prodding at her sensitive areas as a kid might poke at a snail with a stick.
“We’re going up to the cafe for some lunch,” said one of the other men in the group. “You guys coming?”
“Yeah, sure.” Jake stood and pulled his wife up. Merle went to get up but saw Neon standing above her, hand extended. She sighed and took it. He lifted her easily, and she stumbled against him.
“Sorry.” She brushed sand from her dress, wishing he would realise she was apologising for the insult as well.
“No worries.” He met her gaze briefly. He smiled, but his eyes were cool. He turned away, collecting up the empty beer bottles, giving her a perfect view of his tight ass.
She swallowed and looked away, shaking the sand from her towel and rolling it up for Bree. How she longed to be the sort of person who had one-night stands. Why couldn’t she be impulsive, carefree and abandoned? She wished she could throw off her reserved image and live in the moment. Bree did—she was remarkably relaxed and happy-go-lucky, so it wasn’t as if it was impossible. But she could never be like her sister.
Could she?
Merle bit her lip, excitement sweeping through her. She wasn’t really considering this, was she? She wasn’t thinking of suggesting hot, meaningless sex with a complete stranger?
As a group, they walked up to the local cafe. On the way, she chatted to David and Ryan, a couple of the other men in the group. They were both friendly and flirted lightly with her, making her laugh. Mischievously, she considered each of them with Bree’s idea of holiday sex in mind, but although they were young, strong and beautifully tanned, neither of them came close to Neon on the scale of gorgeousness. He talked to Jake as they walked. He’d pulled on a deep red T-shirt, but was barefoot like most of them in the group. He was the perfect image of a healthy New Zealand man, the sort you saw on holiday adverts. He must have a girlfriend. But surely Bree wouldn’t have suggested him if he did?
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