“We’re not going to date, either,” she said.
Vee leaned forward to refill Nat’s wineglass, which was mysteriously empty. “Drink,” she ordered. “Then listen.”
“I have to be tipsy to listen to what you’re about to say?” Nat said, but she took a big swallow anyway.
“Isaac’s not a bad guy—” Vee said.
“We’ve already established that.”
Vee held up a stop sign palm. “Let me finish. He’s not a bad guy for you to climb back in that saddle with again. You know, to get over the man drought currently withering up your lady parts.”
Gracie once again choked on her wine, and even Nat couldn’t stop herself from laughing.
“Are you seriously telling me my lady parts are withered?” Nat asked on a giggle. But, damn, they must be if the leftover ache in them from that morning was any indication.
“Yep.” Vee toasted Nat with her wineglass. “And since this is the first man you’ve actually kissed back since I’ve known you—and with enthusiasm, so we heard—Isaac could be just the rainstorm you need to, er, freshen things up.”
“I can’t rush in to sleep with the man,” Nat said. “I’ve got Olivia to think of.”
Though exactly what she meant by that clichéd statement, she wasn’t sure. Thinking of Olivia because her daughter wouldn’t approve of her mum being in a physical relationship? Or because Olivia wouldn’t approve of her mum being in a relationship with Isaac?
“The two of you are very open about stuff,” Gracie said. “And wasn’t she trying to fix you up with one of the high-school teachers a few months ago? You won’t scar her for life if you announce you’re dating someone—”
“Or only pretending to date someone while you screw his brains out.” Vee rolled a shoulder. “Then everyone’s happy. Olivia has a mum who isn’t wound so tight, and you and Isaac can indulge in a few harmless, enjoyable sexy times until the fizzle naturally burns out—which it will.”
“Oh, that’s not at all cynical,” Gracie said. “But I agree with the first part of what Vee said. Have some sexy-time fun with Isaac if you want to. Keywords here—‘if you want to,’ and ‘fun.’ You deserve to have some fun in your life.”
“Perhaps I do.” Nat slitted her eyes at the diminishing wine left in her glass.
Could be the alcohol talking, but, yeah, she did deserve to have some fun.
Sexy, adult fun.
Vee, in her shoot from the hip and sometimes crass style, had it right. Isaac was the man of the match to dip her toe into the water with while she figured out if she wanted to continue getting back into the saddle to play ride ’em cowboy with a more suitable man in the future. And…
Maybe it was her withered lady parts or the wine talking, because those jumbled up clichés somehow made sense and seemed like a bloody good idea.
Chapter 11
For the past three weekday mornings, against his better judgment, Isaac showed up at Nat and Olivia’s door to take them both to the 7:00 a.m. run. Which, surprisingly, had become popular among the girls. Taking precautions against any potential weirdness between him and Nat, Isaac had also offered to collect Rangi-Marie on the way there. His extroverted little cousin had proved the perfect antidote to the initial strained silence that greeted him on Monday morning when Natalie opened her front door.
“Morena, Auntie,” Rangi-Marie had sung out, sailing past her down the hallway to the kitchen.
Nat shot Isaac a glance and then shrugged. In Māori culture, any older, respected female or male became ‘Auntie’ or ‘Uncle.’ While Isaac made coffee, Rangi-Marie chatted easily with Olivia about school stuff, dragged Isaac into a three-way discussion about the latest Marvel superhero movie, and generally eased the unspoken tension zipping between him and Nat.
He’d seriously considered giving Rangi-Marie a raise until the third morning when she’d turned to him in the car and said, “Still need me to run interference between you and Nat?”
He’d death-gripped the steering wheel. “What?”
“You know, because you’re all tongue-tied and nerdy around her now.”
“Tō waha, Rangi-Marie.” And he’d only been half joking.
His little cousin shot him a cheeky grin. “Shut up yourself, cuzzy-bro. You know I’m right.”
Screw it, she was.
Six hours and three coffees later, Isaac rolled his chair away from his office desk and spun in a one-eighty until he faced the couch.
“Dude,” he muttered in a poor imitation of his younger brother. “You’re way overthinking this.”
Because aside from their morning runs together—in which Nat, having already become fitter, stuck like glue to the slower girls—it’d been four days since he’d kissed Nat in the locker room and they still hadn’t spoken about it.
And he’d now racked up four restless nights. His couch had never looked more inviting.
Isaac cocked his head, picking up distant muzak from the showroom floor, the sound of a tour bus exiting the parking lot with a hiss of brakes, and the thuds and bangs coming from behind Kauri Whare’s main building. Construction was nearly complete on the new building, with everything running to schedule for the next phase of plumbing and electrical to begin in a few weeks’ time.
He swiveled back toward his desk and the blur of numbers dancing across his laptop monitor. Isaac got up from his office chair and stretched out on his couch. A ten-minute power nap, fifteen max. He shut his eyes but his mind, as it so often did these days, shot straight to gnawing over the problem that was Natalie Fisher. The problem part being, he couldn’t stop thinking, and overthinking, about her. How her lips tasted so sweet. How each of her curves had fitted jigsaw-perfect against his body. How she’d moaned softly into his mouth as he’d ground into her softness, the remembered sound still with the power to make him hard.
A hesitant knock sounded on his door, followed closely by a feminine throat clearing. His brain swam groggily to the surface of consciousness and he cracked open an eye.
“Isaac? Sorry, I’ll come back.”
Natalie’s voice.
Isaac folded upright like a sprung trap and swung his feet to the floor. “I’m awake. I’m awake.”
And the sudden tightening of fabric across his groin informed him that a part of him was very awake.
He grabbed a throw pillow, dropped it on his lap, and rested his elbows on it while he scrubbed his palms over his face with an Oscar-worthy yawn. “Come on in, Nat, and shut the door. Sam’ll give me hell if he catches me napping.”
“I bet,” she said.
She entered his office and closed the door, hesitating in front of it while her gaze zipped between him on the couch and his empty office chair. He could almost read her thoughts from the crumpled lines on her forehead to the way she hugged her purse close to her chest. Risk sitting beside him, or take the less intimate option of commandeering his chair?
Chair, he figured—and then was proved wrong when she strode over to sit one seat cushion space away from him on the couch. Her freshly showered scent of fruity body wash layered beneath her signature light floral scent was reminiscent of lazy summer days, and a direct contrast to the sparkle of raindrops in her hair. She wore a belted trench coat, and when she crossed her legs, half-turning toward him, the lower half split open to reveal a figure-hugging knit dress that stopped a few inches above her knee-high boots.
“I wanted to talk to you in private,” she said, dropping her purse at her feet.
Isaac wanted to do things to her in private, ones that didn’t require conversation. “Go ahead. I’m all ears.”
And all aching cock, which was trying to get to Nat by boring a hole through his pants. He shifted on the couch cushions, trying to find a comfortable position that wouldn’t look as if he was obviously trying to hide one hell of a boner. Resting a casual hand on the throw pillow, he laid the other arm along the back of the couch and fixed what he hoped looked like a neutral I’m listening expression on his face
.
A face that said I’m listening with full male attention because I respect you as a woman with something serious to discuss and not because I can’t stop thinking about what you’d look like wearing that coat and nothing else apart from stilettos.
Tō waha, Isaac. Just tō waha, right now.
“I, um…well, I wanted to talk about…” Natalie pressed her lips together and shot a glance at his throw pillow and then at her hands.
Perhaps he hadn’t been as subtle as he’d hoped. He crossed his legs away from her—fucking ouch—and smiled helpfully. “About the scheme Rangi-Marie and Olivia are cooking up to ask you and Vee to make the team new sports uniforms?”
She blinked at him then her forehead crumpled. “Oh. No, that’s not what I’m here for. I guessed what they were up to and talked to Vee this morning. We’ll figure out some fund-raising the girls can help with, both for the uniforms and for travel and accommodation if the team makes it to the semifinals in Whangarei.”
“They’ll make it.”
If she wasn’t here to talk rugby, why was she here? In his office. Looking hot enough to singe the leather couch beneath them, and ahhh—radiating the kind of intense energy that could mean she was either planning to run, or to crawl onto his lap and kiss him senseless.
He prayed for the latter.
She gave him a tentative smile. “I’m glad you’ve found some confidence in the girls…” There was a drawn-out pause. “And yourself.”
Lack of confidence on or off the field hadn’t used to be an issue for him. He knew what he was made for and where he was headed. Knew the sacrifice and sweat necessary to get to where he wanted. Knew that if he desired a woman, it wouldn’t take much more than a smile to draw her to his side, and later into his bed. But now he didn’t know where he fitted in his new reality and he had no clue where he was headed. He was still prepared to sacrifice and sweat for what he wanted, if only he knew what that was. And the only woman he’d wanted in his bed for longer than he was comfortable admitting was right in front of him. And he didn’t think a come here, baby smile would have the slightest effect on her.
“What do you want to talk about?” he asked.
She lifted her chin. “Us. I’m here to talk about us.”
His stomach went into free fall, but not the way it did when a woman usually started a conversation with the I want to talk about us phrase. Because Natalie referring to whatever it was that hummed like a live wire between them as an ‘us’ caused the free fall to reverse and his stomach to suddenly feel all floaty and girlishly expectant.
Mouth desert-dry, Isaac swallowed hard to moisten it. “I’m a little out of practice talking about relationship stuff.” An understatement.
Her eyes widened with what he could only describe as panic, and spots of color stained her cheekbones.
“Oh no, I’m not talking about a relationship. I mean, not a relationship relationship. I was thinking about us kissing, and how it was nice—I mean, it was good, really good—and we seem to have some chemistry and maybe we could, I don’t know, see where that could go and…” She dropped her gaze to the fingers she’d laced together in her lap.
Not a relationship, relationship. And see where that could go…
Nat was proposing what? Sex? Because that’s the only direction it could go if they got their hands and mouths on each other again. Isaac winced and resisted the urge to adjust his pants, currently cutting off circulation to his groin. Parts of him were still responding with enthusiasm to the idea of seeing where things went with Nat. Even as a less vocal part of his body, one that hadn’t been used in a long time, gave a little twinge in his chest at the thought of a meaningless fuck.
Beggars couldn’t be choosy.
She drew in a long breath then met his gaze again. “I’m screwing this up completely, aren’t I?”
“Not at all.” His mouth curved into a slow smile. “Not unless we’re not on the same page and you’re not meaning sex.”
Her spine stiffened, pulling her shoulders back and emphasizing the swell of her breasts beneath the coat. “We’re on the same page.”
“Good.” Isaac scooted along the couch until his knees bumped hers. The throw pillow plopped to the floor and she glanced at his empty lap, gaze snagging on the bulge straining against his pants.
She sucked in a breath, the stain on her cheekbones darkening. Beneath the open collar of her coat, he spotted a telltale throbbing of her pulse in her throat.
“I, ah, don’t mean right now, though.” She glanced at his unlocked office door.
He chuckled. “Pity you didn’t close the blinds and lock the door on the way in.”
“Yeah.” She faced him again, a smile tugging up the corners of her mouth. A sexy, knowing smile with something more powerful than sheepish embarrassment reflected in it. The kind of smile a man could lose himself in and never want to find a way out of.
“Another time, then,” he said.
She grabbed her purse and rose abruptly. “I need to go.” She shot him a wary glance. “Should I come to your place? Um, one night when Olivia’s having a sleepover at a friend’s?” Her nose crinkled and she rubbed a spot between her eyebrows. “I’m sorry. I have no idea what to do or how to seduce a man anymore.” She gave a wry laugh. “Scratch that. I’ve never known how to seduce a man, period.”
Isaac stood, closing the distance between them until they stood toe to toe. He cupped her jaw, stroking his thumb along the silky skin. She quivered under his touch and leaned into it, her eyelids fluttering closed.
“You already seduce me, Nat. Just breathing you in, tasting you, touching you is more seduction than I can stand. It makes me want to do something reckless like take you hard and fast on my office couch. To hell with who’s walking past outside.”
Her hand floated up between them, hovering mere inches from his chest.
If she touched him now he’d be a goner. “And as for you doing something to seduce me, the only thing you need to do is show up at my place in that coat, and I’m a sure bet.”
“Just the trench coat?” she asked.
“Just the coat.” And before he acted on impulse and flipped her onto his couch, he took a giant step away from her and returned to his desk.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
And with that she left him alone in his office, still stunned, still hard, and still wanting her with a thirst he was scared wouldn’t be sated after one night.
Friday night, with Olivia at a sleepover birthday party at one of her classmates’, Nat stood in front of her bedroom mirror in lacy panties and bra, waiting to see if feathers would sprout out of the goose bumps covering her skin.
That’s right, she was a chicken trying to convince herself she was a mighty eagle in charge of her own destiny. Bird poop all over that. She was a woman torn between fear and horniness, and a complete novice at the whole easy sex thing. Easy was the kind of sex she’d had with Jackson—up until Olivia was born. Then things had gotten a little less easy and spontaneous, and a little more planned and infrequent. But that was normal in any relationship. Especially when you had a husband who was away a lot and training so hard that when he did come home he was exhausted.
Nat ran a hand down her almost flat stomach, and took stock of her reflection. Nice boobs, not too big, not too little, not too saggy. Legs that were stronger from all the running she’d been doing. Waist the right size for Olivia’s arms to slip around when she wanted comfort, and hips that curved where a woman was meant to curve. Body image wasn’t the problem.
Having sex with someone who wasn’t Jackson was.
The flutters in Nat’s stomach grew stronger and she turned away from the mirror. She flipped open the little jewelry box on her nightstand and eyeballed the two wedding bands inside. Heart pumping like she’d just completed five laps around the school field, Nat slapped the lid shut and crossed to the back of her bedroom door. Trench coat or fluffy pink bathrobe?
Jackson was the first and on
ly man she’d made love with. She’d met and married and gotten pregnant so young—she certainly wasn’t complaining that she hadn’t slept around before or during their marriage. Just…what if she’d forgotten how to be with a man? What if she didn’t know how to please Isaac—and what if he didn’t know how to please her? And what if it was awkward and awful? What if it was only mediocre; would she feel obligated to act otherwise? And perhaps scariest of all, what if it was really, really good? Better than good?
She went for the bathrobe, then froze mid-reach.
“Who the hell are you, Natalie?” Tears stung the corners of her eyes. “The little mouse still hiding from the world in Jackson’s shadow? Or a woman who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to ask for it anymore?”
Nat swore and grabbed the trench coat. She slipped into it, dug out the highest pair of heels she owned from the bottom of her closet, grabbed her keys, and left her house before she could change her mind.
She parked along the street from Isaac’s house and kept her head down as she walked. Her heels clicked a brisk staccato, the sound muted by the drifts of fog rolling in from the ocean. A chill worked its way down her spine, and beneath her skimpy lace bra—purchased discreetly with a couple of other more boring underwear items at the department store yesterday—her nipples budded and ached. The realities of wandering around Bounty Bay in only a coat and your underwear. Fortunately, the lights were on in Isaac’s place so soon she’d have a big, sexy-as-sin, and more importantly, hot male to warm all her body parts up on.
She strode up Isaac’s driveway, shot a glance at his front door, then decided that even though it was full dark out, a booty call should probably be carried out with some discretion, considering how Bounty Bay, like any other small town, could instantly turn into a hotbed of gossip. Nat followed the driveway down to the rear of the house. She’d never been inside Isaac’s house before—he’d moved into a new one since the accident—but the security lights switched on and lit her path to the back door.
Mend Your Heart (Bounty Bay Book 4) Page 13