by Nicola Marsh
But knowing how much Patrick wanted her, feeling him fill her, was incredibly empowering.
When her last command faded on a whisper Patrick took over. Hoisting her higher. Driving into her harder. Gripping her tighter as every thrust drove her closer to release.
She’d never achieved release by internal stimulation alone, but as Patrick talked dirty and demonstrated how he could follow through the tension in her muscles built and coiled in a delicious combination of pleasure bordering on pain.
‘Patrick, jeez…’ She shattered, spasms making her shudder a moment before he joined her on a drawn out groan.
They didn’t move for several long seconds as Sapphie tried to comprehend the enormity of what had just happened.
She’d just had her first cataclysmic, fabled internal climax. And while it had been monumentally stupendous, with her body still trembling in aftershocks, she couldn’t ignore the niggle of concern—the one that insisted the connection she’d just experienced with Patrick was one in a million.
Closely followed by a thought: what the hell would she do when he left?
Patrick’s grand plans to keep Sapphire locked away in their hotel room for the entire weekend hit a hurdle on Saturday.
He had to get out.
If he didn’t he was in dire danger of doing something he’d sworn he’d never do.
Committing to a woman.
The sex was phenomenal, but it was more than that. It was the shared laughter and confidences in bed last night, the common cravings for buttered popcorn and orange soda while watching an action flick, the crazy, scary feeling of total ‘rightness’ being with her induced.
He’d dated a lot of women the world over, but not one had managed to get under his skin as quickly as Sapphire.
How had the prissy, uptight kid from school turned into this temptress?
He’d expected his raging hunger for her to abate after last night. It hadn’t. If anything he had serious concerns he’d never be able to get her out of his head again.
Not good, considering their goals were worlds apart.
She had a high-end Melbourne jewellery institution to run, he had grand plans to take on his folks head-on in Europe.
Yep, worlds apart.
Where did that leave him? He’d gone into this with few expectations: short-term fling, move on.
So why, after spending one incredible night in her arms, had that thought become unpalatable?
‘Good to know you’re a rule-breaker.’ Sapphire raised her G&T in his direction. ‘Mighty generous of you, letting me leave the room.’
He gestured around the exclusive Club lounge on the twenty-fourth floor. ‘Didn’t want to push my luck with you getting bored of me. Thought you might appreciate a change of scenery.’
‘No chance of that.’ She sipped at her drink. It did little to cool the telltale blush staining her cheeks. ‘For much as I love the incredible city views and drinks and amazing seared scallops, I think you have plenty to offer by way of entertainment.’
He grinned as her blush deepened. ‘You think I’m entertaining, huh?’ He beckoned her closer and murmured in her ear. ‘Would that be when I’m going down on you or taking you from behind in the shower?’
‘Shh,’ she said, and shoved him away—but not before he’d glimpsed the hint of a smug smile. The smile of a satisfied, multiple-pleasured woman who hadn’t been reticent about letting him know.
Another thing that had surprised him—her absolute joyful abandonment when it came to sex. Sure, she’d been responsive in her bathroom and his boardroom, but he hadn’t expected her to be so utterly horny.
There was something infinitely appealing about a woman who enjoyed sex and wasn’t afraid to show it, and he loved that beneath her cool, businesswoman façade she was a sexpot vixen.
And she was all his.
At least for the weekend.
‘You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?’
Her eyes lit up with pleasure and she nodded. ‘Not dismissing the last twenty-four hours in our suite, I’m having a ball being here.’ She beckoned him closer with a crook of her finger. ‘I never do stuff like this. Feels like I’m playing hooky and I love it.’
‘Don’t you go away for girls’ weekends with Ruby?’
Shadows blanketed the light in her eyes and the corners of her mouth drooped. ‘We’ve been pretty busy keeping Sea-borns afloat since Mum died, so most of our weekends have been spent working.’
Her response surprised him. Sure, he’d heard the rumours about Seaborns being in financial trouble but that had only been recently. As far as he knew the jeweller was a Melbourne institution and supplied pieces to the stars.
It looked as if a lot had happened in his absence.
‘I thought Mathilda was an astute businesswoman?’
Sapphire gnawed on her bottom lip, her G&T forgotten. ‘She was, but the shoddy economy hit us hard. Even rich folk stopped spending big on frivolities like new bracelets or necklaces and our profit margins tightened.’ She shook her head. ‘I made a promise to Mum to do whatever it took to keep Seaborns lucrative.’
‘You’re doing a great job—’
‘I almost lost the company,’ she said, her tone soft and plaintive. ‘Pushed myself too hard, didn’t enlist Ruby’s help—would’ve collapsed with a healthy dose of chronic fatigue syndrome if I hadn’t taken an enforced leave of absence.’
‘I didn’t know.’
‘Not many people do. Rubes did a great job keeping us viable while I recuperated at a health spa near Daylesford.’
‘How long?’
‘Three months.’
He couldn’t imagine this successful, driven woman taking a week off, let alone twelve weeks, and that fact rammed home how bad it must’ve been.
‘How do you feel now?’
‘Invigorated.’ She raised her glass in his direction, her smile self-deprecating. ‘Thanks to you.’
She’d given him an opportunity to dismiss the heavy stuff she’d revealed and move onto familiar teasing territory.
He wanted to—didn’t want to delve into personal territory that might strengthen the bonds between them. But the shadows in her eyes remained and he’d be damned if he’d let her down now she’d opened up. He might not want to complicate what they shared by taking it further, but the least he could do was hear her out if she wanted to offload.
‘When did you return to work?’
A slight frown creased her forehead. ‘The week before you walked in on me.’
He swore. ‘So you take months off and then jump straight back into the fray by pitching for the Fourde show?’
She glared at him, sass and defiance, and he’d never wanted to hold a woman more than he did at that moment.
‘I’d done my time. Rested, chilled, unburdened my soul to a bunch of self-help groups. Meditated, stretched—you name it, I probably tried it. But in the end…’ She made a circular motion with her finger at her temple. ‘I was going a little stir-crazy with all that wholesome goodness.’
‘Understandable. But we’ve been working manic hours on this show. How are you holding up?’
‘You tell me.’ She actually winked, obliterating the seriousness of their conversation. ‘At the risk of your ego getting any bigger than it already is, hanging out with you has been good for me.’
‘Care to clarify “hanging out”?’
‘At work.’ Her coy glance from beneath lowered lashes was adorable. ‘Out of work.’
‘In clothes.’ He ran a fingertip down her bare forearm, savoured her involuntary reaction as he raised goosebumps. ‘Out of clothes.’
She smiled, the tension of the last few minutes gone.
‘If I’d known you’d be better for me than months’ worth of yoga and meditation I’d have considered flying to Europe.’
She’d meant it as a light-hearted quip, a continuation of their word-play. But hot on the heels of his realisation that their fragile relationship could never go furt
her it stung.
In a hypothetical world, if she were free from responsibilities, would they have a future?
Fruitless, irrelevant musings. But for a moment, with the thought of her joining him in Europe, it had been nice to dream.
He raised his Scotch and clinked it against her glass. ‘Well, lucky you don’t have to travel to Europe for my exclusive services. You can have as much as you want of me right here.’
‘I’ll drink to that.’
She took a sip, lowered her glass and pinned him with a curious stare. ‘What’s it like working in Paris? Must be ultra glam.’
Unease tightened his throat. He didn’t want to talk about his life in Paris. Didn’t want to run the risk of saying stuff he shouldn’t. But she’d opened up to him with surprising honesty. The least he could do was give her a snippet.
‘It’s competitive. All the best fashion houses in the world vie for attention there.’
‘Yet Fourde Fashion continues to thrive? Your folks must be proud.’
Her steady stare never wavered, and along with the lies he’d now have to tell came the wish he’d changed the subject when he’d had the chance.
‘The business is their baby. As long as Fourde flourishes all is right with the world.’
He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice but Sap-phire was smart, and by the slight frown crinkling her brows he knew she must have picked up on the hint of hostility in his tone.
‘Can be tough, working for your folks.’ She swirled her drink absentmindedly, took a sip. ‘I adored Mum but she was a ruthless boss. And being family muddied the boundaries sometimes.’
If she only knew. His familial boundaries weren’t mud-died—they were clearly obliterated.
‘Yeah, can make for interesting employee evaluations.’
Not that he’d been subjected to any from his folks. They preferred to let their silent disapproval do the talking.
‘I used to envy you.’ She snuggled into her seat and cupped her hands around her glass. ‘Not having parents looking over your shoulder all the time.’
‘They would’ve had to care to do that,’ he blurted, instantly regretting his blunt response when her eyes widened in surprise.
‘You didn’t get along?’
He shrugged, wishing he’d kept his big mouth shut, trying to play down his obvious resentment after that clanger.
‘I was a late arrival—a mid-life mistake. They had a burgeoning business and self-sufficient teenagers when I arrived. The rest is self-explanatory.’
Her pity was palpable. ‘So you didn’t spend much time together as a family?’
‘Try none.’ This time he managed to keep the acrimony out of his voice. ‘But, hey, as you said, I got to spend my last years of school parent-free. Lucky me.’
Then why did he feel so unlucky?
‘Bet they’re glad you’re all making up for lost time now.’
He grunted in response. Enough with discussing families, already. ‘Another drink?’
Thankfully she let him change the subject.
‘I haven’t finished this one yet.’ She glanced at the half-empty glass in her hand and raised an eyebrow. ‘Are you trying to get me drunk so you can take advantage of me?’
He winked. ‘Newsflash, sweetheart. I don’t need you tipsy to do that.’
‘Good point.’ Her eyes darkened to midnight as the tip of her tongue swept along her bottom lip, eliciting an instant tightening in the vicinity of his groin.
‘I need a refill,’ he said, also needing to get this evening back onto light-hearted ground. ‘Maybe you can take advantage of me?’
She laughed. ‘Keep wishing.’
As they continued their banter while feasting on delicious dips and breads, flirting outrageously, Patrick couldn’t dismiss the niggling feeling he’d be missing out on something great when he followed his dream in Europe.
And for the first time ever he wondered if it was worth it.
CHAPTER EIGHT
SAPPHIE WASN’T IMAGINING the deep freeze.
Patrick had been distracted during breakfast this morning, cool at check-out, and more distant the closer they got to Armidale.
When he parked outside Seaborns she could have created ice carvings—the chill in the car was that palpable.
She knew what he was doing. Deliberately establishing distance between them after the intimacy of the weekend. Understandable, considering the manic fortnight ahead of them before Fashion Week. She’d pretty much planned on doing the same thing—withdrawing on a subtle level to concentrate on work.
What she hadn’t planned on was feeling this…this…be-reft. As if she’d had something wonderful, lost it, and was now grieving.
Crazy, as she’d known what this was going in: a short-term fling and some much needed fun after a disastrous twelve months. A rotten two years, in fact.
Since her mum had died, when was the last time she’d had fun? Had a weekend off for that matter?
She hadn’t, and it made the last forty-eight hours all the more precious. Physically, she’d wanted to prove something to herself, and the weekend with Patrick had done that and more.
Withdrawing was one thing, but feeling this crappy because of it was not good.
She hadn’t expected to feel like this—didn’t want to feel like this for the next two weeks—so she had no option but to draw attention to the obvious: iciness didn’t foster good working relations.
‘You’re coming in to check out the latest designs?’
Patrick glanced at his watch, reluctance radiating off him. ‘Yeah, but just for a few minutes. I’m heading to the office for the afternoon.’
‘I thought I was the only workaholic who’d forgo a gorgeous Sunday arvo for the office?’
He shrugged. ‘It’s how success is bred.’
‘Wow,’ she said, wishing he’d smile or wink or give some semblance of the laid-back charmer she loved. Liked. ‘This from the guy who had to be bribed to show up for study weekends?’
Finally a flicker of light in his eyes. ‘Those Dairy Bell milkshakes were so worth it.’
‘Not my scintillating company?’
He snorted. ‘You were an acid-tongued killjoy when it came to hitting the books.’
‘How do you think you’re successful now?’
‘Good looks and charm?’
She rolled her eyes, secretly thrilled he was thawing. ‘Throw in modesty.’
At last the corners of his mouth eased into the lazy grin that never failed to make her heart skip a beat.
‘Did you ever think we’d end up here?’
She had no idea if he meant professionally or personally.
He gestured towards Seaborns’ shopfront. ‘I guess you always knew you’d be running this one day. It’s all you ever focussed on—getting good grades, working here part-time.’ He blew out a long breath, his expression pensive. ‘Me? I didn’t have a clue.’
Interestingly, they hadn’t discussed how he’d ended up working in fashion. She’d assumed he’d entered the family business like her, by living up to familial expectations. But, considering his revelations regarding his folks over the weekend, she found it surprising he’d choose to work with them. It sounded as if they’d been rotten parents and he still bore the emotional scars, so how had he ended up fronting their fashion house in Australia?
‘You had grand plans to travel during a gap year. What made you enter fashion?’
What little headway she’d made in re-establishing warmth vanished as the shutters descended, effectively wiping the warmth from his eyes.
‘I fell into it,’ he said, staring out through the windscreen at nothing in particular. ‘Did an internship, studied part-time, then needed time away. Got bored with travelling after a while. Had a Marketing degree under my belt. Dropped by the Paris office more regularly on my return.’
There was more to it—a lot more, judging by the rigid shoulders and compressed lips—but now wasn’t the time to push.
‘Well, I for one am glad you did, because together with Seaborns you’re going to take Fashion Week by storm.’
‘Hope so,’ he muttered, tearing his gaze away from a tram trundling by to turn towards her. ‘You know how busy we’re going to be the next few weeks, right?’
Ah, here it comes. The brush-off.
She could make it easy for him, but what they’d shared wasn’t two strangers hooking up for a dirty weekend and then going their separate ways.
They shared a past—albeit a platonic high school friendship. And they shared a professional bond that would single-handedly take Seaborns into a new stratosphere.
She—they—deserved more.
‘Agreed,’ she said. ‘I’m assuming a busy work schedule precludes us from having sex?’
Her bluntness surprised him. An eyebrow twitched.
‘I’m trying to make this easier on both of us—’
‘Don’t.’ She shook her head. ‘Don’t give me some lame spiel you’ve probably used on a million women before.’
This time his jaw dropped a tad.
‘We’re both professionals, with a clear goal in sight, and we’re going to get there. But if what’s happened over the last few weeks is any indication, that spark we share can’t be turned off because we’ve pulled an all-nighter or have spreadsheets to prepare. So let’s not waste time doing this.’
She waved a hand between the two of them. ‘You and me? Phenomenal sex. So why don’t we see how it goes over the next few weeks? If we have a spare moment and our schedules coincide we hook up.’
‘You’re something else,’ he said, staring at her with undisguised admiration. ‘And for the record? Thousands of women, not millions.’
She punched him on the arm.
‘And the reason why I’ve cooled off today is because spending the weekend with you has solidified what I already knew.’ His hand snaked across, captured hers. ‘The reality of being with you far surpassed the fantasy and it’s doing my head in.’
Okay, she hadn’t expected that.
‘I really like you, but I don’t have room in my life right now for complications.’
‘Jeez, thanks. Way to go with the flattery.’
His sheepish smile made her want to hug him. ‘I need to make this show work before…’