“Like what?”
“Like that. Plus he had a hand on your back when you walked up.”
Oh, Tess was sharp. Hermione liked her, but she could see she would have to watch herself around his sister. She shrugged. “Doesn’t mean anything.”
“It means he likes you. That in itself is unusual.”
Hermione wanted to deny it, but the statement was too interesting to pretend indifference. “Why is it unusual? Surely he’s not short of dates?”
“He’s very picky. Has extremely high standards, does our Danny.”
“Does he now?” Hermione thought that rather amusing.
“Yeah. And he likes his chicks on the classy side, so no wonder he’s got his eye on you.” Tess winked.
Hermione smiled, because Tess had meant the comment to be funny, but it stung a little. Was that the only reason Danny was interested in her? Because her title made her “classy”?
Her gaze slid across to where he leaned over the pool table, stretching to reach a shot. His jeans hugged his tight butt, and the shirt pulled across his muscular shoulders. Mr. Mellors obviously thought himself a catch, God’s gift to women, able to pick and choose between all the girls who fell at his feet. No doubt he had a queue of women waiting to be asked out, following him around like rats after the Pied Piper, while he waited to select the one he considered suitable.
Was she supposed to feel flattered because she was the Chosen One?
Chapter Eight
After the somewhat turbulent start, the evening turned out to be the most enjoyable Danny’d had in a long time.
He’d been nervous about announcing his true identity to Hermione, certain it would bring about the end of their relationship, if you could call it that. He’d hoped doing it in public would prevent any violence, but unfortunately that hadn’t turned out to be the case. He’d expected her to walk off once she found out, so he’d been staggered that when he’d asked her to stay for a drink and stated he didn’t expect anything else, she’d replied with Don’t expect... Or don’t want?
She was still interested in him, and that had given him an internal glow the kind of which he hadn’t had for...well, years. Maybe ever.
Hmm. He filed that away in his brain to think about later.
In spite of his own pleasure, as he introduced her to the others he wondered whether he’d made a mistake in asking her to stay for the evening. As lovely as they were, he couldn’t imagine her having anything in common with ex-soldier Genie or the slightly flaky Billie, and as for Tess—he was sure that within minutes she’d be getting up on her soapbox to give the English aristocrat a lesson in feminism.
To his surprise, the girls got on famously. Each time he stopped by the table for a swig of beer, they were all laughing about something, probably at his expense, he suspected, but he was glad to see Hermione’s eyes alight, and that the others genuinely seemed to like her.
After they finished their pool game, the guys joined the girls at the table, and they ordered another round of drinks. As he took the seat opposite her, Danny noticed that Hermione’s pale cheeks bore a light flush. Whether it was from the sun, the alcohol, or his presence, he wasn’t sure, but he hoped it was the latter.
They chatted for a while, about all sorts of things: politics and the difference between parties in New Zealand compared to England, whether the All Blacks were going to beat England in the rugby at the weekend, and then, as the alcohol began to have an effect, the girls continued a discussion they’d apparently been having earlier about whether Kiwi guys or Englishmen were better lovers.
“Englishmen,” Billie stated, causing all the guys around the table to snort with disdain.
“You’re going to have to qualify that,” Jonah said.
“They’re more gentlemanly,” Billie replied.
“Like what? They ask permission before they come?”
Billie’s lips curved as everyone burst out laughing. “No...” She sipped her cocktail. Danny had noticed Jonah attempting to flirt with her lately, but clearly Billie was having none of it.
“Come on then.” Jonah eyes gleamed. “Explain what you meant.”
“Kiwi guys have sex,” Billie clarified. “Englishmen make luuurv.”
Beck, who’d joined them for a while, raised an eyebrow at the other girls. “Is that right?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Tess said. “Never been with an English guy.”
Genie shrugged. “I’d rather have sex than make luuurv anyway.”
Niall’s eyebrows shot into his hairline, and the others laughed.
“Now you tell me,” Niall said. He whispered something in her ear, and she giggled.
“Well?” Danny directed the question to Hermione. “What’s your opinion?”
She went still as all eyes turned to her. “Um... I’m afraid I can’t comment either. Never had a Kiwi boyfriend.”
“Clearly we need to arrange some comparative data for you,” Jonah said mischievously, glancing at Danny. Danny glared back.
“I’m sure I can extrapolate a conclusion from the data I already have,” she said, pronouncing it the way he had, dar-tah rather than the English day-tah.
“Oh, and what’s your conclusion?”
She sipped her cocktail. “Oh, I think Billie’s on the right track.” Her gaze slid across to Danny. “Don’t you agree, Mr. Mellors?”
Danny grinned. “Oh, so you’re ganging up on us? I’m not sure we should put up with this insult to our technique, guys.”
“It’s not an insult, just a fact,” Genie said. “Anyway, as I said, it’s not a problem. What is it they say about a guy’s ideal woman—she’s a virtuous maiden and an exciting Aphrodite? It’s the same for us girls. We like our guys to be gentlemen at the dinner table and mechanics under the covers.” Her peal of laughter trailed off at the wry look on Niall’s face. “Ah, I should probably stop talking now. Sorry. One cocktail too many.”
“I’m sure English girls are more refined than Kiwi ones,” Jonah said, looking at Billie. “Here’s a joke for you—how do you tell when a Kiwi girl’s having an orgasm? She drops her fish and chips.”
Everyone burst out laughing. Billie glared at him, until Genie’s fresh bout of giggles got to her and she gave a reluctant grin.
“I’m sure that’s not true,” Hermione said. “And anyway, English girls happen to like sex too.” Her eyes widened as if she’d shocked herself at the admission.
“Hmm.” Danny winked at her. “But presumably you order cucumber sandwiches rather than pizza afterwards, eh?”
She met his gaze, holding it as the conversation turned to less suggestive topics. Danny grinned at her. Something sparked in her eyes, although he didn’t know her well enough to know what it was.
The others were finishing off their drinks, and Danny pushed himself to his feet and held out a hand to Hermione. “Would you like to go for a walk along the beach before you call a taxi?” He ignored the way Genie nudged Billie, and the amused glance that Beck and Niall exchanged.
“Um, okay, that would be nice.” Hermione got up and smiled. “Thank you for such a lovely evening—it’s been great getting to know you all.”
“Likewise,” Genie said. “We’ll see you again before you go though, won’t we? How long are you here for?”
“Just over two weeks,” Hermione said. “On the day after midwinter I’m leaving for a trip around the rest of the country.”
Danny’s heart gave a strange little leap. On the twenty-second of June, she’d be gone.
That still left about sixteen days during which they could have a great deal of fun. He wouldn’t think about her leaving now.
He said goodbye to everyone, smiling when they gave him the thumbs up sign after she’d turned away. They liked her. Conscious that their approval gave him a glow inside, he followed Hermione across the bar, not missing the chance to watch her bottom in the tight jeans. She looked younger and more modern in the shirt and jeans, and although he quite liked her old-fashion
ed English lady appearance in her summer frocks, he had to admit that her current ensemble made his mouth water.
He could imagine unbuttoning the sexy blue shirt to reveal a lacy bra—what color would it be? White? Black? He’d slip the shirt off her shoulders, then he’d release the catch at the back of her bra and slide the straps down her arms. Finally, he’d fill his palms with her breasts. She was slim, but her breasts were generous, a decent C cup. He wanted to close his mouth over her nipples and suck until they tightened into peaks.
He bumped into her, not having realized she’d stopped as they left the bar, and blinked to clear the lewd thoughts from his mind. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. I just wondered which way you wanted to go?”
He gestured to the right and held out his hand. Smiling, she slipped hers into it.
They crossed the road and walked down the grassy bank onto the sand. The evening had turned cool without being cold, and the autumn breeze whipped the sea into white horses that cantered up the beach. Hermione shivered.
“Too cold?” he asked. She shook her head and smiled, but she still shivered, so he put his arm around her to lend her some of his body heat.
She didn’t complain. Far from it—she nestled into him, wrapping her arm around his waist.
Nice.
They walked along the beach for a while, enjoying the peace and quiet of the evening. Hermione didn’t speak, and Danny didn’t either, conscious that their bodies were talking even though no words were being said.
Her breaths seemed to be coming quicker than was normal considering they weren’t walking up an incline, and a flush filled her cheeks in spite of the fact that it wasn’t a cold night.
He could smell her perfume, that delicious, enticing scent that did something to his blood, making him hot under the collar. The moon highlighted her high cheekbones and cast shadows beneath them. Her lips looked like velvet.
Under an old pohutukawa tree, Danny stopped walking. He turned her in his arms, slipped a hand behind her head, and lowered his lips to hers.
He hadn’t planned it. It wasn’t why he’d suggested a walk along the beach, and he hadn’t thought any further than the fact that she was soft in his arms, she smelled nice, and he wanted to kiss her.
She placed both hands on his chest, and for a moment he thought she was going to push him away, maybe exclaim her outrage, and tell him he’d got the wrong idea.
She didn’t though. Her fingers splayed on his jacket, and then to his surprise she took the zipper of his jacket and pulled it down. Pushing apart the two sides, she slid her arms around his waist and pressed against him.
Danny sighed, leaned back against the trunk of the tree, and wrapped his arms around her. It was possibly the most sensual kiss he’d ever had. For the life of him he couldn’t think why. He’d been with his share of women, and chicks liked kissing, so he’d been happy to indulge in some long smooches.
But this was different. Hermione wasn’t small or bone-thin, but she felt fragile and womanly in his arms, with curves in all the right places. When he touched his tongue to her lips, she parted them eagerly, and the sexy slide of her tongue against his set a match to the touchpaper at the base of his spine, firing every nerve ending in his body.
He didn’t rush it, though. He placed one hand on her back and one between her shoulder blades, keeping her tight against him. He took the time to kiss her properly, enjoying the way the touch of her mouth teased his senses until he was ultra-aware of everything going on around them.
The sea washed up the beach, raking stones and shells with long white fingers, while in the distance the strains of an old blues number filtered across from the bar. He could smell the salt from the ocean, Beck’s special barbecued spare ribs, and the scent of Hermione’s perfume. He shivered, but it wasn’t the cool breeze that sent the hairs rising all over him—it was the way she was moving her hands up around his neck and into his hair, how—knowingly or unknowingly—she pressed her breasts against his chest, and the low murmurs she gave when he slid his tongue against hers.
He wanted her. And she was showing all the signs of wanting him too.
Unfortunately, though, tonight wasn’t going to work. Would she wait until tomorrow for him?
Chapter Nine
Hermione sighed at the feel of the short, silky strands of Danny’s hair slipping through her fingers and the press of his lips against hers.
It was the nicest kiss she’d ever had by far. She’d thought the kiss on the private beach in front of her parents’ house had been good, but this was heavenly.
Leaning back against the tree, Danny seemed in no hurry to end their embrace. Hermione could happily have stayed there for the rest of her life. His arms were tight around her, his body hot against hers. His lips moved with tantalizing slowness, firm and warm, while his tongue dipped lazily into her mouth to stroke and tease until her heart thumped and an ache grew deep inside her.
It was no good—she needed to touch him, to get her hands on his skin. Lowering them to the bottom of his shirt, she slid them underneath and onto his abs, which felt deliciously firm and defined as she ran her fingers across them.
Danny lifted his head and inhaled, his breath hissing between his teeth, then kissed her again, this time ramping up the heat, his tongue plunging into her mouth, taking rather than requesting entry. She moaned, feeling his hands sliding down to her bottom, where they cupped and pulled her against him, lifting her ever-so-slightly so his erection pressed against her mound.
She wanted him. She wanted to take him to bed, to strip every piece of clothing from his body, to have him lie on her naked, and to feel him hard inside her. The need took her breath away, and she moved back to press her hands on his chest.
“Danny?”
“Mmm?” His hooded eyes surveyed her, carrying enough heat to tell her he was thinking about getting her naked too.
“Um, I was thinking... Would you like...um...to come back to the house with me tonight?”
Her cheeks burned. She’d never said anything so forward. She wouldn’t have dreamed of inviting a man back to her flat in England. But here, she was anonymous. Nobody knew her, and there was nobody to judge her. She could be a different person—or, maybe, a truer version of herself. And she discovered that the real her wanted this guy, and was willing to step out of her comfort zone to get him into bed.
To her surprise, though, his eyes didn’t light up, and he didn’t immediately declare he would be delighted to accompany her back to the house. Instead, he cupped her face with both hands, thumbs stroking her cheeks, and he placed a regretful kiss on her lips.
“I can’t tonight,” he said, sending her heart plummeting into her feet, and increasing the heat in her face. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
“You’re turning me down again?” She cleared her throat and stepped backward. Anger blended with embarrassment and shame. How could she recover from that faux pas with any form of dignity?
“Please don’t be angry.” He’d obviously seen her distress. “I live with my dad.”
Hermione’s eyebrows rose of their own accord. How old was he, late twenties? “You still live with your dad? And you mocked me for calling my father Daddy?”
“It’s not what you think. My mum left when I was four. Not long after that, my dad developed Multiple Sclerosis.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh Danny, I didn’t know.”
“Of course you didn’t.”
“I mean, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have mocked you...”
“It’s okay. It’s just there’s nobody else to look after him. I earn enough to afford a carer during the day, but I look after him in the evenings and during the night. If I’m going to be out late, I have to organize for someone else to be there. Tonight, my aunt’s with him until I get home, but I can’t really stay out all night, not without giving her some notice.”
“It’s all right,” she said, meaning it. Warmth spread through her at the thought that he looked after his fa
ther. “Of course I understand.”
He blew out a breath as if he’d half-expected her to continue to be cross with him. Then he smiled and pulled her back into his arms. “I can’t believe I’ve turned down the most beautiful woman currently residing in New Zealand not once, but twice. I’d like to make it up to you. Are you busy tomorrow?”
She’d planned to go to the local large town of Whangarei to do some shopping, but that wasn’t anything that couldn’t be delayed. Plus, he’d called her beautiful. For that, she’d have moved a mountain for him. “No.”
“Then can I take you out for the day? I could take you to see some nice places to stay for your business.”
A glow spread through her. “Oh Danny, that would be lovely.”
“I’ll treat you to lunch and dinner. We’ll have a great day. And then I’ll take you home.” He bent his head to rub his nose against hers. “I’ll ask my aunt to stay over and look after my dad for the night. No pressure, but it gives us the opportunity to let things happen, if we want them to.” He let his lips touch hers lightly. “How does that sound?”
She shivered. “A little like paradise.”
He chuckled and kissed her, then wrapped his arms around her and gave her a big hug.
Surprised, Hermione slid her arms around his waist and cuddled up to him. He was solid and firm, almost as if she had her arms around the tree behind him.
“I am sorry for misleading you.” He kissed her hair.
“And I’m sorry for being snotty when we first met.”
He laughed. “It’s okay. You were still the sexiest girl I’ve seen for ages.”
She lifted her head to look at him. “Are you only interested in me because I’m posh tottie?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Are you only interested in me because I’m a ‘rough as’ gardener?”
She pursed her lips. “Good point.” This wasn’t about finding Mr. Right—someone to settle down with, who would be the perfect life partner. She was attracted to him because the idea of having sex with a guy who wasn’t a refined gentleman excited her. She was beginning to suspect that beneath the facade of the manual laborer lay a man who was actually more of a gentleman than he let on, but this was about fantasy, not reality, and she didn’t want to delve too deeply into the truth. And no doubt he would be the same. He didn’t want to learn about her struggles and sorrows. Covered in dirt and sweat, he wanted to walk up to the elegant lady of the manor and screw her senseless.
An Ocean Between Us Page 6