Second Chances Boxed Set: 7 Sweet & Sexy Romances in 1 Book

by Tracey Alvarez

  Fiona had seated herself in the car by the time he’d walked around to the driver’s side. He tallied up the points against her.

  Leaving on Tuesday.

  To a job she wouldn’t want to give up.

  Didn’t seem to crave children.

  Maybe the same risk as Jan for breast cancer.

  He grimaced as pulled the car door open, sat, and fired up the engine.

  “We’re off to the river, Nicola Jane,” he said with false cheerfulness as he reversed onto the private driveway that led to Pounamu Lodge. “Do you remember the river from last time?”

  He drove past the Lodge, over a rattling cattle-stop, and turned onto the unsealed farm road running through part of Pounamu Estate. They bumped gently along past the paddocks.

  “Sheep!” Nicky squealed from her elevated perch on the child safety seat. The grazing sheep lifted their heads to stare at the passing car but soon resumed eating.

  “Sheep, Dadda,” she squealed again, blue eyes wide with delight.

  “Baa-a-a-a...” Fiona contributed.

  “Maaaaa,” Nic copied.

  “Baa-a-a-a,” Fiona replied. “Come on, Chris, join in.”

  “Baa-a-a-a...” he muttered with a deep lascivious tone. “The mating call of the rutting ram. That what you had in mind?”

  Fiona doubled over with laughter for a few seconds and then her bright eyes found his.

  “The rutting ram? Are you?”

  “After last night, hell yeah. Baa-a-a-a,” he bellowed again with greater volume. “Ready any time ‘ewe’ are, Blondie.”

  Suddenly they were both snorting with laughter, enjoying the silly moment, and his mood lightened.

  Why was he looking for what he couldn’t have? Right now she was here with him, in his life, in his bed at last. That would have to be enough. “Unless you’d rather have a whole lotta rampant stallion?” he asked, adding a fierce suggestive neigh.

  “Horsie!” Nic yelled, which only increased their hilarity.

  “Okay in the back there, Nic?” he asked when he’d stopped laughing enough to speak again.

  He checked the rear view mirror. His little girl had caught their relaxed mood and was smiling happily, clutching her pink dog, staring back at him like a naughty angel. “Going to show Auntie Fee how well you swim?”

  “She doesn’t, does she?”

  “Goes in the water all the way up to her ankles if you’re lucky.”

  Fiona grinned and nodded. “A real mermaid, then.”

  The river twinkled through the trees. Christian slowed to a crawl and steered the car in under the shady green canopy of a weeping willow. Long feathery streamers of leaves brushed past the windows. Nicky crowed with delight.

  Fiona glanced over her shoulder at her niece and felt her heart twist, knowing it should be Jan sitting beside Christian on this lovely day.

  Fate had robbed her sister of so much. Jan would never see her precious daughter grow into a beautiful girl and an accomplished woman.

  Never again feel the warmth of her husband’s love.

  Never return to the amazing cliff-top house she’d transformed into such a welcoming and distinctive home.

  Fiona had thought her tears for Jan were almost under control all these weeks later, but suddenly the telltale prickling behind her eyes and painful constriction in her throat hit her yet again. She blinked rapidly as hot moisture welled up and threatened to spill down her cheeks. How could her mood change from cheerful to utterly desolate in just seconds?

  She unclipped her seatbelt the instant Christian braked, then pushed her door open and stepped out, hoping for enough privacy to regain her serenity.

  “It’s wonderful,” she called, praying her voice was steady. She took a few steps toward the river. All around her, the willow fronds swished and rustled in the breeze. The sun filtered through in brilliant shafts.

  She wiped a quick forefinger under each eye, summoned up a smile, and turned back.

  “We could make a waterfall, Nic,” she suggested as Christian released Nicky from her seat harness and set her on the rough grass. “Shall we do that while Daddy goes fishing?”

  “Hold up, Nic—sunhat!” he called as his daughter toddled away from him.

  Bending low to avoid the long streamers of leaves, they each took one of her soft little hands and ambled down onto the riverbed. The floods of winter were long gone; now big areas of shingle and stones baked in the midsummer heat. Nicky stumbled along between them, determined to manage the uneven ground on her own until Christian scooped her up and distracted her.

  “Look Nic—see the pretty bird?” he asked, pointing to a vivid blue-green kingfisher. They walked on a little further.

  Water trickled through the shingle in several small ribbons. On the far side, deep in the shadow of overhanging trees, it flowed faster and darker.

  “Is that where you’ll fish?” Fiona asked.

  “For all the good it’ll do. I imagine having you and Nic splashing about will spook anything that might be lurking.”

  “No fish for dinner then?”

  “You’ll be full of risotto from lunch.”

  “So I will. Brought your fishing coat?”

  “Need your hair washed, do you?”

  She caught his wide smile and nodded. “Need lots of things attended to.”

  “Ready and willing,” he murmured, sliding his free hand around her waist and pulling her closer as they crunched along in the brilliant sunshine. She laid her face against his shoulder and smiled up at him.

  “Did you think last night would ever happen?” she asked, knowing she had nothing to lose now by asking.

  “Hoped. Didn’t dare to hope. Never seriously expected.” He dropped a kiss on her nose. “Hoped some more. Felt I was about due for a miracle after the pain of losing Jan.”

  Her heart lurched at his honesty.

  “Did you know it would be me?”

  “It was always you, Blondie. Too soon, too fast, but always you. Even when it seems impossible, a man’s got to go after what he wants.”

  She closed her eyes at that, trusting him to keep her from falling.

  After a few more steps she opened them again as she felt him pause at the first of the shallow waterways.

  “Just about here would be good for us, wouldn’t it Nic? Shall Daddy put you down?”

  Christian complied and Nic bent over, picked up a stone, and threw it into the tricking stream with a gleeful squeal.

  “Go and get your fishing gear. We’ll be safe and out of your way here,” Fiona said, pushing off her shoes and squatting down beside her niece. “Want your shoes off too, Nic?”

  Nicky pushed out her bottom lip and looked doubtful.

  “Okay, you stay there for a bit but I’m going paddling.”

  When Christian returned with his fishing gear, Fiona stood ankle-deep in water, piling up smooth river stones to make a miniature dam. Nicky’s contribution was to select occasional debris and pitch it into the water where it made very satisfactory splashes. Fiona’s white shorts looked decidedly damp around their hems.

  He dropped a couple of towels onto the ground and tossed the car keys on top of them.

  “In case you need them before I’m back. Looks like you’ll end up wetter than me.”

  “A definite possibility,” she agreed as Nic squealed and hurled a pinecone, and the spray flew up yet again.

  After an hour of standing on the far riverbank with barely a nibble, he packed his gear away and strode back toward the car. The sun now rode high in the sky, and Fiona had spread two picnic blankets in the shade of the willow. On one, Nic drowsed, curled up and clutching her pink puppy. On the other, Fiona sprawled in her blue sun-top and a lacy coffee-colored thong. Her wet shorts flapped from a nearby bush.

  Christian’s gaze travelled from her peachy toenails all the way up her long legs to her tiny panties. The injury to her knee had left a livid crescent-shaped scar that made his eyes skid to a halt.

  H
e hated seeing it. It was his fault—he should have taken better care of her—somehow protected her from the accident that had so nearly killed her. Why in hell had he let her go anywhere near that weakened beam in the garage?

  She opened her eyes and blinked a couple of times, as languid as a cat snoozing in the sun. Something hit him hard in the chest.

  Mine. Mine to love. Mine to protect.

  His tiny daughter and the woman he’d always wanted, both looking so vulnerable and in need of his care. “Catching up on sleep?” he asked, voice husky with unspoken suggestions.

  “Someone kept me awake most of last night.”

  His mouth curled with the memory. “Yeah, and he’s going to do the same tonight.”

  “Is that a promise?” she asked, lifting her arms above her head in a long fluid stretch that started at her fingertips and rippled down the whole length of her body.

  He watched her relax again. Just the sight of her moving so sensuously sent blood rushing south to stir his groin into potent readiness. “You really think I could keep away from you after a night like that?”

  “Not in our private world,” she said, lifting one hand in a vague all-encompassing gesture. “It’s perfect for just a few days, but that’s all it can be.”

  His heart constricted, and he tried to shove the sensation to one side and cover the moment with a flippant comment. “Not quite perfect—the fish weren’t biting. Let me get rid of my gear.”

  With half an eye on Nicky, he set his rod and bag beside the car and peeled off his white T-shirt and old wet trainers. Then he lowered himself over Fiona and brushed his lips past the scar on her knee.

  Her breath hitched, and her hand touched his hair. Soon, her nails scraped gently against his scalp as her fingers curled in reaction to his kisses.

  “I hate to see where you got hurt because of me,” he murmured as he progressed up her thigh.

  “Scars fade.”

  “Some of them.”

  “Not scars of the heart though?”

  “Not so easily.” He slipped a finger under the edge of her thong and grinned as she bucked up against his hand and protested in a furious whisper.

  “Stop it! Someone will see.”

  “Not a chance. There’s no-one for miles.”

  “Nicky’s right here.”

  “And sound asleep.”

  He pulled the elastic aside and ran his tongue over her hot flesh.

  She gasped, and grabbed at his hair to tug him away. He enjoyed her grunt of annoyance as her fingers slid out of the short strands.

  “Summer hair-cut. Too short for you to get much of a grip on, Blondie. You’re really asking for it now.”

  He pushed a thigh between hers to hold her down, and eased his swim-shorts out of the way.

  “What if Nicky sees?”

  “Stay quiet and she won’t.”

  God, she was a turn-on in that tiny scrap of coffee-colored lace! His good intentions to wait until nightfall deserted him in an instant, but the condoms were all in the cottage because he seriously hadn’t expected this.

  “You on the pill?” he demanded.

  “Yes, but—” she protested, wriggling against him as his cock glided between her thighs. “People might be looking...”

  “No other people, Blondie. Just us in this big private green cave.” He yanked the edge of her panties sideways and nudged inside her.

  She fought him every fraction of the way, but with a smile on her lips and stifled giggles. Finally he’d invaded to full depth and collapsed down onto her, pinning her in place against the rug. The bruised grass beneath them smelled herby and cool. The breeze rushed quietly through the willow fronds. Distant birds called to each other out in the sunshine. And all he could think was ‘mine’.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Christian’s grip on her loosened. She stopped her struggling. “Pitiful, isn’t it,” she whispered. “One kiss on the knee and I’m totally turned-on for you.”

  “I did a bit more than that.”

  “Not much. You didn’t need to, damn it...”

  She turned her head to check on Nic, and thrilled as Christian brushed his lips down her neck, seeking out the sensitive places that had made her writhe and whimper the night before. Seeing Nic safely asleep, she relaxed a little.

  “You giving in now?” he asked.

  She sought his eyes and nodded.

  “You’re too strong to fight off,” she teased, pushing her hips up and tightening her internal muscles around him.

  “Oh yeah—that feels like fighting me off all right,” he agreed, settling his mouth over hers in a luscious leisurely exploration. When he finally lifted away he added, “If you really hadn’t wanted me Blondie, I’d have stopped. You do know that?”

  “Of course I know that. Did it feel like I seriously objected?”

  He stopped her query with a smile and another deep kiss. Then he began to move in long deliberate strokes. She caught her breath and pushed up at him each time he thrust, falling easily into the perfect rhythm he set. Her hands slid over his warm back, pulling him closer. Her thighs wrapped around his waist, skin against skin, sensation upon sensation.

  “Am I too heavy for you on this hard ground?” he demanded, sliding a hand under her and tilting her up against him so she gasped at the deep penetration.

  To Fiona he felt wonderful—possessive and male and territorial. This was serious claiming, total domination.

  “I like your weight on me.”

  “But am I too heavy?”

  “No, you’re fine.” She gasped and panted as heat rushed everywhere, and her deep muscles started to clench and twitch in a wild trembling dance. An exultant cry burst from her throat.

  Christian stifled the sound of her ecstasy with a fierce kiss, and held her and rocked her until she was quiet again. Only then did he move faster, hauling her so close as his own climax hit that Fiona felt the violent hot pulses of his release deep inside her.

  Their next few days slipped by in sunshine and passion, tilting crazily from the colorful innocence of story books to the dark intensity of sensual lovemaking. Jan bound them together and held them apart. And Tuesday arrived far too fast, despite their private prayers that somehow a miracle was possible.

  Christian grimaced as he lifted Fiona’s luggage into the car. They’d tried to ignore the fact of her imminent departure all morning—both deliberately not mentioning it in case it blighted the last of their time together.

  Now it was past noon; time had run out.

  He turned and fixed his most concentrated gaze on her. Begging wasn’t something which came easily to him. For her he found he was willing to beg.

  “Change your mind, Blondie,” he urged. “Stay.”

  All his considerable persuasion was packed into those five short words. And his hope died as Fiona blinked back tears and resolutely shook her head.

  “I have to go back to the boat, Chris. For all sorts of reasons. The company has been really good to me, letting me take all this time off for Jan. My contract has another six months to run.”

  “Stay,” he repeated. “Contracts can be broken. I could swing it somehow for you.” He hated the desperation in his voice. The ice-cold businessman would never show his feelings this way, but it seemed the passionate lover had no choice. “What we have...what we’ve finally found...”

  Fiona shook her head again. “Chris, what we have is not acceptable to anyone but us. Think about it. How could we face your friends in Wellington? They’d treat us like lepers. They’d assume you’d just been waiting for Jan to die before you hooked up with me.”

  Christian gave a short frustrated curse, knowing she was seeing the complications more clearly than he was. But how could he let her go without fighting for her?

  “Or even worse,” she pressed. “That we’d been together while she was sick. I couldn’t stand that.”

  “Six months,” he said bleakly. “You’ll be so busy with your job on the liner and all your s
hipboard friends. What you feel for me will fade away.”

  “And you’ll be fair game for the women who hunt wealthy, good-looking men,” she countered.

  “We’ll see about that,” he needled.

  But Fiona couldn’t help wondering what chance she’d stand against the ambitious divorcees and well-off widows and single career women who’d be right in his face. She held her ground, dying slowly as the seconds ticked by, knowing she’d never felt worse in her life.

  Her attempt at an early lunch was a roiling ball in her stomach. Her head pounded with blinding pain; her eyes ached with the effort of not giving in to her desolate tears.

  “Call me if you absolutely have to,” she quavered. “My mobile is set up for global roaming. I’d love to hear your voice now and again, even though it’ll kill me.”

  “I won’t be able to smell you or taste you or feel the softness of your skin through the phone.” His voice was flat with resignation.

  “You won’t be able to do that even if I stay,” she countered. “We can’t possibly be together so soon after Jan. Amy Houndsworth and the next nanny will know. My parents will twig what’s going on. And your friends... We’d offend them all.”

  She wrenched the car door open and sagged into the passenger seat. Her fingers fumbled with the clasp on the seat-belt, and she sat with her head bowed, not daring to say any more in case she finally broke down.

  “I could email,” he said, once they were on the road and he’d slowed at a suitable vantage point so she could take a last longing glance back to Pounamu Lodge and its matching cottage.

  She shook her head. “No. Please Christian—I don’t want a day-by-day rundown of your life. The life I can’t share with you.”

  He reached across and laid a warm hand on her thigh as he drove.

  “Blondie it’s going to be hell without you.”

  “Yes, but maybe the less contact we have, the better. Maybe it will fade away and get bearable. Maybe you’ll find someone else...”