An Ocean Between Us

by Serenity Woods

  And to her surprise, Hermione was okay with that.

  *

  Ten o’clock on Saturday morning found Hermione walking through the center of Paihia to the address that Danny had given her the night before.

  He’d asked her to meet him at his house so he could introduce her to his father. “I know it sounds a bit heavy, taking you home to meet the folks when we’re only, you know, having a fling, but he’s been asking about you,” Danny had said as they’d waited for the taxi to turn up and take her home.

  “That’s fine,” Hermione had said, although secretly she’d puzzled as to what Danny had told his father about her. It was probably the English nobility thing—it fascinated most foreigners, especially as she could claim Princess Diana as a distant relative.

  She followed the instructions, walking to the end of the busy high street, then continuing on for a while before taking a left into a quieter, more suburban area. In England, rows of houses often looked very uniform—squint and you couldn’t tell one from the next. In towns the houses were frequently terraced, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with both neighbors, and many people aspired to own a semi-detached or—the ultimate goal—a detached house. These were often separated from the neighbor only by a pathway or small piece of garden, with few people being able to afford a decent sized section of land. Most houses were built of brick, made to withstand the cold and wet winters.

  From what she’d seen and read, in New Zealand, especially in the North Island, most houses were wooden, often large and spacious in rural areas, and frequently surrounded by an acre or more of land. The houses in this street were closer together than some of the rural ones she’d seen as she’d driven around, but they were all different in size and layout, painted in varying colors, some with garages or front gardens, others without. Danny’s house was about halfway along, painted a lovely mint green color. It was small but neat and tidy, with paths either side leading to a garden surrounded by a high wooden fence.

  She walked up the path and knocked on the door. Her heart raced. What was she doing, going to his house to meet his father? She’d only just met Danny, and they were supposed to be embarking on a hot fling, not an engagement. They hadn’t even slept together, and yet here she was acting like she was his fiancée.

  But she surprised herself by not being annoyed or irritated. This decent guy looked after his disabled father and wanted to introduce her to him before he went off with her for the night. How could she be angry about that?

  The door opened to reveal the gorgeous gardener with a huge smile plastered on his face.

  “You came!” he said as if he’d expected her to stand him up.

  “Well not yet,” she said, “but given half the chance...” The words left her lips before she’d had the opportunity to vet them. That always happened when she was nervous. She bit her lip, wondering if he’d mock her for them, but he just laughed and moved back a little to let her in.

  “Turning into quite a Kiwi,” he said, clearly amused. “That’s my girl.”

  There wasn’t much room in the narrow hallway, and as she sidled past him her breasts brushed his chest and her nostrils filled with the scent of his aftershave. He wore a pair of well-worn, faded jeans and a casual blue shirt that hung loose, the long sleeves rolled up to just below the elbow.

  He put a hand up, leaning on the wall to stop her. Pressing back against the wall, she tucked her hands behind her and looked up at him, holding her breath. He had a sexy smile and the lazy, sultry look in his eyes she was just beginning to recognize.

  “Hello,” she said. “How are you today?”

  He chuckled and moved closer, pinning her to the wall. “Very well, thank you.” His lips brushed hers. “You look hot.”

  Heat flooded her cheeks. Nobody had ever called her hot before. Elegant, yes. Pretty, once or twice. Never hot.

  She cleared her throat. “In this old thing?”

  Actually she’d spent about two hours deciding what to wear. Conscious he was attracted to her because he thought her sophisticated and refined, she’d attempted to go for casually classy in a pair of cream wide-leg slacks with a silky fawn-colored top. Concerned they might take a walk along the beach at some point, she’d slung a chocolate-brown jumper around her shoulders. She’d thought she looked rather chic. The word hot hadn’t crossed her mind.

  His lips curved. “You look sexy in whatever you wear. I hope it’s easily removable, though.”

  She inhaled, her lips parting, and he took the opportunity to kiss her and slide his tongue against hers, sending her arousal level from zero to sixty in the space of two seconds.

  “Mmph,” she protested, pushing him back. “You’ve wiped off my lipstick.”

  “Don’t bother reapplying,” he advised, turning and pushing her along the hallway. “There’s a lot more where that came from.”

  Ooh, more kisses? Her heart raced, and her brain scrambled as he directed her around the corner into the living room. Every touch of his lips melted her a little further. She’d be a puddle by the end of the day if he carried on like this!

  Chapter Ten

  A surge of happiness bubbling up through him at Hermione’s obvious pleasure at the thought of more kissing, Danny took her hand and led her up to where his father sat by the window with Danny’s aunt, Fleur.

  The three of them had watched Hermione walk all the way up the road and stand out the front to assess the house before she’d approached the door.

  “She’s probably thinking ‘so this is how the peasant class’ lives,” Ron Love had commented with amusement.

  Danny had laughed, but he had wondered what was going through her mind. Was she thinking how small the house was? It must have looked like a shed next to the mansion he was landscaping the grounds for. Her family home back in the UK was probably like something out of Downton Abbey.

  But, wanting to comfort his father, he’d merely said, “She’s not like that.” Was he defending her? That puzzled him. She certainly didn’t deserve it after the way she’d first greeted him. And yet he didn’t want his father to think badly of her. He wanted him to like her.

  Hmm.

  Aware that his dad had already cottoned on to the fact that he had more than a soft spot for her, Danny swallowed down a nervous lump that had formed in his throat, stopped in front of him, and turned to Hermione. “This is my father, Ron Love, and my aunt Fleur. This is Lady Hermy-wun Spencer.”

  “Danny,” his father scolded, “don’t be rude. It’s lovely to meet you, Lady Hermione.”

  “Goodness,” she said, holding out her hand, “Hermione, please. And it’s all right, I deserve your son’s teasing. I’m afraid I was terribly rude to him when we first met. I mistook him for one of his workforce, and I don’t think he’s ever going to let me forget it.”

  “Damn straight,” Danny said, hiding his surprise. He hadn’t expected her to admit her faux pas to his Dad. He’d told him all about it already, including the surname he’d given himself. Ron had thought it hilarious, and had been interested to meet the girl who’d taken his son down a peg or two. Judging by the grin on his face and the way his expression had softened, Ron liked the lady of the manor.

  “Lovely to meet you,” Fleur said, shaking her hand. Fleur’s eyes met Danny’s and she winked.

  “I hope you don’t mind me stealing Danny for the day,” Hermione said to his father. “I know he works very hard, and that you probably don’t get to see him much in the week.”

  “Ah, the lad’s all work and no play. He deserves a bit of fun.” Ron’s eyes twinkled. Hermione blushed.

  Danny cleared his throat, trying not to laugh. “I’m taking her for a drive up to Doubtless Bay.”

  “You should go via Millionaire’s Drive,” Ron suggested. “Maybe check out Te Ngaere beach and Matauri Bay.”

  “Great idea, Dad.”

  “And of course you’ll have to call in at the chocolate shop,” Fleur added.

  Hermione appeared to possess the stan
dard female gene that professed a love of confectionery, and her eyes lit up. “Ooh, chocolate?”

  “The best in the Northland,” Danny said, “and the girls who run the shop are good friends of mine, so we’ll get some special treats.”

  “I can’t wait. Quick, take me to the car!”

  They all laughed. “Come on then,” Danny said. “See you.”

  “Have a good time,” Fleur instructed them.

  “Nice to have met you,” Ron said.

  Hermione bent to kiss him on the cheek. “Lovely to have met you too.”

  They left the room, Danny picking up a small night bag on the way out. He didn’t want to assume he’d be staying overnight, but equally if things went the way he hoped, he didn’t want to get caught without his toothbrush and a change of clothes. Hermione didn’t mention the bag, and neither did he.

  They walked the short distance to his car, and he threw the bag in the back and they got in.

  “Right,” he said, starting the engine. “Ready?”

  “Drive on, James,” she said.

  Danny pulled away but glanced at her, puzzled at the name. “Sorry?”

  She chuckled. “It’s what an English aristocrat says to his chauffeur. Legend has it that a gentleman got into a carriage and asked the driver his name. The driver said, ‘It’s James, sir.’ The gentleman said, ‘I can’t possibly call you by your first name—what’s your surname?’ ‘It’s Darling,’ said the driver. The gentleman sat in silence for a moment, and then said, ‘Home, James, and don’t spare the horses.’”

  Danny laughed. “It’s a good story.”

  “I think so.” She leaned back and sighed. “I’m looking forward to today. It’ll be nice to see some of New Zealand with a real Kiwi.”

  “I hope you enjoy it. The Northland is the best part of New Zealand—although I’m biased, of course.”

  She smiled, and he turned onto the main road and headed north for the state highway.

  Once he was on a straight road, he glanced across at her. She looked gorgeous in the wide-leg pants and the fawn top. She’d braided her hair from the crown of her head all the way down. He had no idea how she’d done that, but it looked classy and it turned him on. He could imagine taking out the band at the bottom and loosening the thick strands, spreading them around her naked shoulders.

  What was it about this woman that was making him unspool? Perhaps it was because she came across so fresh and innocent, but he knew she couldn’t be quite as naive and unsophisticated as she appeared. He was sure that beneath her chaste exterior lay a rampant sex kitten, and he was determined to find out whether he was right.

  He blinked and tried to focus. She was talking—he had to keep his mind off sex, for now.

  “It was good to meet your father,” she was saying. “Do you mind me asking about his illness?”

  Danny was touched she was interested. “Not at all. He has secondary progressive M.S. It basically means he’s gradually getting worse with fewer remissions in between attacks. When I was younger, he’d have a flare up and then afterward he’d almost be back to normal. It’s unlikely now that he’ll walk again, though.” He hated that his dad was wheelchair bound for the rest of his life, but as there was little either of them could do about it, they both just got on with it as best as they could.

  “What’s the life expectancy of someone with M.S.?” she asked softly.

  “The average is around thirty years from when the person first showed symptoms. Dad was twenty-five when Mum left, and he’s fifty now. I think he has a few more years left in him, but I doubt he’ll make old bones.” His throat tightened, and he swallowed, gritting his teeth. The members of the Love family weren’t great at showing emotion, and anyway, he didn’t want to bawl his eyes out on a first date.

  To his surprise, Hermione reached across and placed her hand on top of his where it rested on the steering wheel. “Parents can be such trouble,” she said, looking out of the window as the Paihia shops flashed past. “I’m lucky that mine have had relatively good health, but I remember when my dad fell in a ditch while he was out shooting pheasants one day...”

  She went on to chat about how they’d had to call out a fire engine to get him out of the ditch, making him laugh as she related the experience which almost certainly hadn’t been as funny as she was implying. But Danny realized she was giving him time to recover, letting him know that she’d noticed, and she felt sorry for him, but she wasn’t going to draw attention to it or make him talk about it.

  When she’d finished talking, he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. She turned her big brown eyes on him and smiled. “What was that for?”

  He shrugged and lowered their hands onto his thigh. “Do I have to have a reason?”

  “I guess not.” She blushed a pretty pink and looked back out of the window, but she didn’t try to extricate her hand, so he kept a hold on it.

  “Anyway,” he said, liking her blush and wanting to tease her more, “your dad was shooting pheasants? Was this before or after he’d been hunting foxes and reprimanding the butler for not shining his shoes properly?”

  She gave him a wry look. “Before.”

  He grinned. “You really have stepped straight out of a Jane Austen novel, haven’t you?”

  “I thought it was D.H. Lawrence,” she said, somewhat sarcastically. “That would certainly suit your character better.”

  “In your dreams,” he said, and chuckled when she went even pinker. “Oh, I see. Been dreaming about me, have you?”

  She glared at him and withdrew her hand. “No.”

  “Me too.”

  That made her laugh. “Danny, you’re incorrigible.”

  Mischievousness surged through him. “I was thinking of taking you on all fours behind the cow shed,” he said, and earned himself a whack on the arm.

  “Goodness! Honestly.”

  “Don’t act so disgusted,” he said, thoroughly enjoying himself, “you love me being rough as.”

  “Rough as what?”

  “It’s what Kiwis say. They leave the end off their similes. You must have heard it by now. Sweet as, bro!”

  She laughed. “Yes, I heard it on the TV.”

  “So then. As I said. You like me being rough as.”

  “Maybe.”

  He glanced across at her, and their gazes locked for a long moment. Heat shimmered in her eyes—he’d turned her on with his dirty talk. Was it just the notion of being taken on all fours behind the cow shed by a gardener that had heated her up? Or was it doing it with him specifically that she’d dreamed about?

  Did it really matter?

  He decided that it didn’t, and returned his gaze to the road before he ended up in a ditch.

  Hermione cleared her throat. “So, tell me more about this chocolate shop.”

  Danny blew out a slow breath. Being provocative might be fun, but it turned him on too, and it was going to be difficult spending the rest of the day with a hard on.

  “It’s called Treats to Tempt You,” he said, relieved to be able to change the subject. “The girls who run it and their partners are friends of mine—they often come down to Between the Sheets for a drink. They’re great girls—you’ll like them.”

  “You have lots of nice friends,” Hermione said. Did he detect wistful envy in her voice?

  “I’m very lucky,” he agreed. “You must have a good social life in the UK, though.”

  “Sort of.” She looked out of the window again and didn’t elaborate.

  He reached across and took her hand. “Come on, you might as well talk to me. It’s not as if I can tell any of your friends anything you confide in me.”

  “True.” She gave a small smile. “It’s odd, it’s just that I often have this feeling of not fitting in, no matter where I am. For a start, I went to boarding school, which I hated, and I never fitted in there.”

  He signaled and turned onto the state highway heading north. “Jeez. I can’t imagine anything worse
.”

  “Well, it’s quite the norm where I come from, and many people thrive in that sort of environment as it does teach you to be independent. But equally it can be terrifying if you’re quiet and reserved, which I was. I managed to keep out of trouble most of the time by keeping myself to myself, but I was very unhappy at times.”

  “I’m sorry.” He squeezed her hand, feeling more sorry for her the more he discovered about her. “What about uni—you made friends there?”

  “Yes... I enjoyed university, and of course there were people there who were from a similar background, but they were often a little wild because they’d escaped from the confines of their upbringing, you know?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So I didn’t mix an awful lot with them. I did make some lovely friends, but I was always conscious that I came from a very different world from them. At boarding school, most people were from similar families, but my friends at university were from all over the place. It was exciting and liberating, but I hated that my accent and the things I said made me stand out.”

  “I’m sorry.” Danny felt a twinge of guilt. “You must have felt the same last night. I didn’t think about that.” He’d thought their teasing of her status funny—he hadn’t considered it might make her feel awkward.

  She shrugged. “It wasn’t the same, actually. People here react in a different way to those in the UK when they discover who I am. It’s very difficult to describe the class system to people who don’t have one.”

  “I guess. I mean all countries have rich and poor people, and educated and uneducated, but that doesn’t seem to be what’s it about in the UK.” He had to admit, he couldn’t quite get his head around the problem. “It all to do with what family you’re born into, isn’t it?”