One Distant Summer

by Serena Clarke

  Unreasonably, given what he’d just said and done (and what he’d done the night before), the idea of anyone trying to take advantage of her suddenly fired him with Neanderthal anger. It might be a charmed life, but yes, he could imagine the kind of sleaziness that went on behind the scenes in that business. And that wasn’t him. “I’m not that guy.”

  She raised a cynical eyebrow. “Really?”

  Okay, sneaking out was a shitty move. But up until then, she’d been along for the ride with him, if he remembered right. And hell, did he remember. There was nothing sleazy about the way she’d kissed him, run her hands over him, wrapped herself around him…

  “You didn’t think I was so bad last night,” he said.

  She raised herself up. “I wasn’t the one who ran out.”

  Then he remembered all the other stuff. All the reasons why he’d left her there, soft and perfect in the dark, were still true. And there was one more thing he shouldn’t forget—she was the one who left first, years ago. She’d run out, back to the States, and that was where she should have stayed. For everyone’s sake.

  “Yeah, that was me,” he replied, the words passing out of him before he had time to weigh their impact. “But you ran out on us first.”

  Her face hardened, and they held each other’s eyes, a charge of something dangerous heating up the room.

  “You’re such an asshole,” she told him.

  He felt the hard-edged words strike, but didn’t let himself flinch. It was better this way. He should never have gone over there last night, full of his father’s Glenfiddich, condoms in his pocket, the loneliness of the past loosening his tongue. And he shouldn’t have told her that he’d wanted her, all those summers ago—that was something he’d never wanted her to know. Ever. But apparently he was as weak as the next man when pinned underneath a luscious, willing woman.

  And here was that woman, tiny but tough, calling him on his bullshit. But now, behind the steel, he could see the hurt. And to be hurt, she must have felt something. The possibility sparked a tiny light in his heart—and scared the shit out of him. Getting entangled with the girl who caused Ethan’s death? On top of every other reason not to, it would kill his mother.

  So yeah, maybe he was an asshole, but it was better to cut it off in the dead of night, than face her in the morning and explain. If she hated him, it took the battle out of his hands. No more fighting with himself about whether, maybe, somehow, she could be his. Because if he hadn’t been so self-indulgently obsessed with her that summer, he wouldn’t have been secretly pleased that she’d left Ethan. He would have gone looking for his brother earlier. And his family would still be in one piece.

  When he didn’t reply, she rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe I felt sorry for you last night.”

  “You screwed me out of pity?”

  He should care, but in truth, he didn’t. That wouldn’t have stopped him last night—and not her either, it seemed. With a jolt of arousal, he remembered her wrapping her legs around his waist, pulling him down into her, deep and hard and determined.

  She curled her lip. “Well, why did you screw me?”

  Coming from her beautiful mouth, the word sounded rough and dirty, and he hardened even more. Jesus, he was an asshole.

  As though she could see it on his face, she looked down at his shorts again. Busted. But before she could deliver the inevitable take-down, he stepped blindly forward.

  One more kiss, one more taste.

  One last screwed-up, desperate grab at what could never be.

  But she didn’t slap him down. Instead, with a resigned, syrupy ‘Oh, God’, she seemed to melt in his arms. He seized the moment—no questions, no hesitation. He’d take whatever she was willing to give…which seemed to be more than he expected. As he pulled her closer, her head tipped back, her eyes heavy with surrender and anticipation as they met his.

  He still had no fucking idea what he was doing, and he might be an idiot, but at least he was smart enough not to waste time analyzing this turn of events.

  But as he dropped his head to kiss her, something caught his eye over her shoulder—Ethan’s guitar on its stand, silently condemning him. Ah, fuck. He turned her around so that his back was to the room, and hers was against the bi-fold doors. Outside was the empty, moon-hushed garden where they’d played as kids, then hung out as teenagers. From innocence to infatuation, then disaster. But inside, here in front of him, was the woman she’d become. Still with the unbelievable breasts, the diamond-blue eyes, and the hourglass curves. But now—even barefoot and unadorned—there was a world-weary edge to her beauty that made her even more compelling.

  Connor was right—how could she get any sexier?

  Finally, he kissed her. As her lips parted, her fingers dug into his back, and her breasts pressed against him. She angled her hips closer—one deep breath from either of them and she’d be hard up against the erection she’d scorned him for minutes ago. Amazing how things change. After a moment she broke the kiss, but stayed close, holding the back of his t-shirt.

  “We are not doing this again,” she said into his chest, as he hitched up her skirt.

  “No.”

  For once they were agreeing on something.

  She twisted slightly, helping the denim rise, and then he could see…not the red panties, but their black lace equivalent. He breathed out a groan and slipped his hand inside them, and she parted her legs slightly, letting him in. Oh, yeah. As his fingers found the small, hot center of her desire, she raised herself up on tiptoe, and slowly, slowly, he started to stroke. A low moan escaped her lips, and she leaned her head back against the glass, her eyes closed.

  He had to smile. However mad she was at him, her body was on his side.

  As he watched her reaction to his teasing fingers, the lust and waiting and anger and every-damn-thing suddenly coalesced into a rush of primal craving. He fell and pressed his face to her sweet center, lace against his forehead, her scent overtaking him as she threaded her fingers in his hair. Back then, he’d worshipped her from afar. Right now, he was literally on his knees…and he didn’t want to be anywhere else.

  He eased the panties down, and she stood still, but he could hear her breathing in the quiet room. At seventeen, despite the epic force of his crush, he wouldn’t have had a clue what to do with her. But now he did. Now he knew exactly what to do…if she’d let him.

  He looked up. “So…we’re not doing this?”

  “Shut up,” she said, her voice husky.

  So he did. For half a second, he considered what kind of a view it would be for anyone who wandered into the dark garden. But then her fingers tightened on the back of his head, just the tiniest bit. Message received. He tugged at the black lace and let it fall around her feet, and she kicked the panties away.

  He ran his hands around the back of her thighs, and held the place where they curved into the softness of her backside. Jesus, she was all curves and temptation. And right in front of him was the ultimate temptation—the sweet, secret place that she’d let him into the night before. The memory sent him into sudden overdrive, and he surrendered.

  She curved toward him as his tongue played against her heat, small, incoherent sounds falling from her lips, each one a benediction. God help him, there was nothing holy about his desire, or the things he wanted to do to her, but right now hers was the only saving he needed. He clutched her bottom and buried his face between her legs, losing and finding himself in her breathy exclamations, her beautiful abandon.

  Nothing else existed.

  But then he felt her tense, and she put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back. He looked up, dragging himself back to reality. Then he followed her gaze.

  She was looking at the guitar.

  Shit. He stood up, pressing his forearm against his lips, damp with her sweetness. There was no point asking what was wrong. Without meeting his eye, she worked the denim skirt back down over her hips, then picked up the panties and stuffed them in her pocket.r />
  He started to say something, anything, but she silenced him with a look. “Don’t.”

  When he tried again, she shook her head.

  “We both know why. It’s the same reason you snuck out last night.”

  Then she turned and opened the door, and went out into the night, leaving him with her lush scent on his face, a colossal hard-on, and a burning urge to smash the goddamn guitar to pieces.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Look! They’ve got blue eyes.”

  Sam was leaning in, checking each of the little bundles of fluff. The minute he and Danielle had arrived, he’d made a beeline for the kittens, and discovered that two of them had opened their eyes. Now they were taking their first blurry looks at the world, blinking in the morning light. Jacinda smiled as they wobbled around, mewing and trampling on their siblings. With their tiny, softly folded ears and skinny, perky tails, they were ridiculously cute.

  “You’re the first one to see them with their eyes open,” she told Sam, and he swelled with pride.

  “Do they have names?”

  It hadn’t occurred to her to name them—that seemed like Nana Mac’s job. But she knew that Nana Mac would give Sam the honor, if she was here.

  “Why don’t you name them?” she suggested.

  “Really? Okay.” He tapped his chin, considering. “Maybe a Minecraft name…or Marvel.”

  “I’m sure you’ll come up with something,” she said. “But we’ll need four.”

  He peered into the kitteny pile, where the tabby was lying on top of Velvet’s head. “Are they boys or girls?”

  “Oh…I don’t know. I had a peek, but I couldn’t really tell.”

  Hell, she hadn’t been a very good cat sitter. Velvet seemed to know what she was doing, and they all looked healthy, but she’d better take them to the vet for a check-up before she left, and find out who was who. She was one hundred per cent in favor of gender equality, but she didn’t want Nana Mac to end up with a female Captain America.

  On the other hand, that would be pretty cool.

  “Maybe you could help me take them to the vet this afternoon, so we can find out,” she said.

  Sam nodded, serious. “I can do that.”

  She left him sitting next to the cat bed, picking up and putting down kittens as he tested out possible names. In the kitchen, Danielle was putting the groceries away.

  “He’s a cutie,” Jacinda said.

  Danielle smiled. “Thanks. He’s coping really well so far.”

  “Have you seen much of his dad?” she asked quietly, putting a carton of juice in the fridge.

  “Andy? A bit. Sam’s used to him being unreliable, so…you know.” She shrugged, and looked toward where Sam was sitting, her blue eyes cautious. “I’ll tell you later, anyway.”

  “You don’t have to.” She didn’t want to drag up things that Danielle might not feel like talking about.

  “It’s fine,” she said quietly, tucking a strand of curly hair behind her ear. “I had to start getting over him while we were still together, anyway.”

  “I’m sorry.” She glanced over to Sam, then flicked the kettle on. “Would you like coffee?”

  “God, yes. Thanks. We left really early, and we didn’t stop on the drive here at all, except at the supermarket in Lancet Bay.” She held up a packaged chicken. “Family dinner tonight? We’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

  Jacinda spooned instant coffee into mugs. “Actually…now that you’re here, I’m going to go. Sam seems like he’ll be a great kitten sitter.”

  “What? You can’t go yet,” Danielle said. “We only just arrived, and it’s been years since we saw each other. Can’t you stay one more day, at least?”

  “No, I’m sorry, I really have to go. There’s a late flight to LA, so…”

  Sam’s voice came from behind them. “Why do you have to go?”

  They turned to see him frowning, his eyebrows furrowed and his cowlick sticking up like a cartoon kid. Danielle pulled him close and rumpled his hair.

  “Well, what time is the flight?” she asked Jacinda.

  “Uh…just after eleven? I don’t actually have a ticket yet.” She’d planned to buy one online yesterday morning, but when Riley and the girls arrived, she’d gotten distracted. And then later…distracted again. She batted away the memory of Liam in front of her in his living room, and the way her own knees had buckled when he fell to his.

  So yeah, she’d been…waylaid. But if tonight’s flight was full, she could kill a night at an airport hotel.

  “You have to stay,” Sam said. “I might need help thinking of names for the kittens.”

  They both looked at her, expectation heavy in the air. She hesitated. It would be kind of rude to leave the minute they arrived. Nana Mac would be disappointed too, when she heard. And even though Jacinda and Danielle were cousins, they didn’t really know each other at all. This was quality family time—one thing she’d always wished for.

  “Okay. One more night.”

  “Good.” Sam nodded, satisfied. “Now I have to get thinking.”

  As they watched him go, Jacinda decided not to think about why she hadn’t actually gone ahead and bought herself a ticket, even though she was so determined to leave. But she was only delayed a day, that was all. Just one more day.

  * * *

  They went in Danielle’s car to the vet in Lancet Bay that afternoon, with Velvet and the kittens tucked into a cat carrier. He pronounced them all healthy—three girls and one boy.

  “Have you got any ideas for names now?” Jacinda asked Sam as they sat down for dinner.

  “Maybe. But I wasn’t expecting so many girls,” Sam said, his face scrunched up.

  “Sam!” Danielle said, but she and Jacinda both had to laugh.

  “I don’t mind that they’re girls,” he said earnestly. “But I was thinking about superhero names, and I don’t know many girl ones.”

  Jacinda and Danielle looked at each other across the table. “Yeah, that’s a whole other issue,” Jacinda said.

  “You’ll think of something,” Danielle told him, putting a chicken drumstick on his plate.

  He nodded. “I’ll google it. Mum, can I use your computer?”

  “Yes, later,” she replied. She passed the dish of broccoli and beans to Jacinda, and Sam held his nose as they went past. “So we heard that you’re a bit of a star,” she said.

  Jacinda shrugged as she took the dish. “Not really.”

  “Really? What would you call it then?”

  “I’m trying not to call it anything at the moment,” she said. “I’m kind of…reassessing.”

  “Mum said you’re a ROCK STAR,” Sam said, breaking out an imaginary riff on his drumstick. “That’s awesome.”

  She laughed. “Thanks.”

  “Can you teach me to play guitar?”

  “I would, but I didn’t bring mine with me. I bet you’d be good at it though.” Then she looked at Danielle. “I haven’t mentioned anything about it here. Not to anyone. I just needed a break.”

  She nodded, understanding in her expression. “Got it.”

  But Sam was listening. “A break from what?”

  “Um…” How could she phrase it so a nine-year-old would understand? “Some people want me to do stuff I don’t like. Sometimes it doesn’t make me happy.”

  “Ugh, I hate that,” he said. “Like when we’re at school and we have to do everything the teacher tells us.”

  “Kind of like that, yeah.”

  He frowned. “Don’t you like being a rock star?”

  “Mostly. But I’m undercover right now.” She looked over one shoulder, then the other, and leaned in. “Don’t blow my cover, okay?”

  He looked around too, then nodded. “Okay.” He mimed zipping his lip, and Jacinda gave him a thumbs-up.

  Then she spooned a helping of vegetables onto her plate, and held the dish out in his direction. “Vegetables?”

  He made dramatic gagging sounds. “Are you tr
ying to poison me? Yuck!”

  Danielle sighed, and Jacinda laughed. “I guess that counts as people wanting you to do something you don’t like.”

  “Ex-act-ly.” He bit into his drumstick.

  Jacinda put the offending dish down at the far end of the table. “I hear you.”

  Later that night, when he was tucked up in bed, she and Danielle sat on the living room floor with the kittens, drinking wine and reacquainting themselves.

  “It’s so nice to be away at last,” Danielle said.

  “You’re coping really well,” Jacinda said. “Was it a tough break-up?”

  She pursed her lips, looking into her glass. “In some ways. The actual process, you know. Finally making the call to end it, and then telling Sam—that was horrible. And then the logistics of dividing everything up, sorting out the house…” She lifted her chin. “But it had to be done.”

  “Nana Mac said maybe it was for the best?” Jacinda chose her words carefully, just in case she had it wrong. But Danielle nodded.

  “Oh God, it totally was. Absolutely. I don’t even know why he thought we should get married in the first place. You know how some people are just meant to be?”

  “Not personally. But yeah.”

  “Well, that wasn’t us.” She gave a short laugh. “I realized pretty early on that we’d made a mistake. And Andy helped me with the realizing, by staying out late as often as he could, and deciding that maybe he wasn’t completely over his high school girlfriend after all.”

  “Oh, shit. Did he cheat on you?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe. Probably. He says not, but it’s hard to keep secrets in a small place like that. A couple of people came and said something to me, just quietly. But we had Sam by that time, so I couldn’t just walk away. I felt like I should try a bit harder, a bit longer.”

  Jacinda reached out and put a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry. That must have been tough.”

  “Yeah.” She scrunched up her nose. “But now it’s done. And it’s better for both of us this way. The main thing is to make sure Sam comes through okay.”

  “You’re doing great so far. He’s so sweet.”