Enemy Lovers

by Shelley Munro

  “An interesting combination of impulsive and stubborn,” he mused. “Can you cook?”

  “I can.” Fancy French stuff. They didn’t do plain in the Drummond mansion.

  He grunted again in the way of men who used single syllable sounds as a second language. “Let’s go. I’ll grab your bag.”

  Laura opened her door and climbed out, wincing at the chilliness that slapped her across the face. Tucking her purse under her arm, she skirted puddles and trailed him to the rear door. The cabin wasn’t much to look at, but at least it’d be warmer than out here in the elements.

  Dallas unlocked the door and stood back to let her enter. It was dark inside and she hovered uncertainly in the doorway.

  “Let me get the light.” He reached around her to flip the switch.

  Laura’s breath caught on seeing the huge open room. In complete contrast to the forbidding exterior, the interior was modern and charming with enticing, comfortable chairs and couches grouped around a fireplace. Two thick rugs in bold geometric patterns covered the floor. They looked inviting, and she immediately wanted to scrunch her bare toes into the wool to savor the softness. A leafy green plant sat on a side table. Cozy.

  Dallas O’Grady was becoming more interesting with each tick of the clock.

  “The spare bedroom is down the hall, right at the end. Clean towels are in the bathroom cupboard. Make yourself at home. I’m going to get the fire started.”

  “Thanks.” She picked up her overnight bag, and set off in the direction he’d indicated. She had no intention of sleeping in the spare room. Dallas had caught her eye a long time ago when she’d been a sweet sixteen-year-old. He’d dazzled her back then with his black Irish looks—his inky black hair and contrasting blue eyes. His confident, sexy swagger. The hint of an accent even though he’d always lived in New Zealand. Maturity had increased his appeal.

  Contrary to her mother’s wishes, she and James weren’t gonna happen. She had no desire to marry or to take on the function of a gay beard. A shudder crawled, slow as a caterpillar down her spine. An endless parade of charity and social functions to help her husband get ahead with no sex, no passion in her future.

  No. Thank you very much.

  Instead, she’d follow the plan she’d mapped out during the past few months. She had savings of her own, small but a source of pride. She’d commenced a job search and had already arranged one interview. Unfortunately, her name and lack of experience were a hindrance. If she managed—no—once she scored a job, she’d continue to save and indulge her yearning for travel to exotic destinations. While she’d traveled with her family, one didn’t see much of a foreign country from a resort.

  The spare room held a double bed and a wooden dresser. It was small but adequate. Laura wandered over to study the view from the window. Darkness had arrived early because of the rain, and she couldn’t see much apart from the skeleton limbs of a tree.

  Sighing, she pulled the curtains closed to shut out the night and cold. She drew off her woolen jersey and decided to change into her sweats. Not glamorous or sexy, but warm and comfortable—they’d broadcast a mixed message to Mr. Dallas O’Grady.

  Congratulating herself on the last minute impulse to throw them in her bag, she stripped off the rest of her damp clothes. This was an unheard of opportunity, and she’d have her way with Dallas or tenacious wasn’t her middle name.

  Ten minutes later, she wandered back to the kitchen.

  A fire crackled in the grate, and Dallas had changed into a well-worn pair of jeans and a white cable jersey. Now he stood in the kitchen, squeezing lemons. “Take a seat by the fire.”

  His words were a command, even though he hadn’t so much as glanced over his shoulder. Laura was used to orders. Her mother, her father, her older siblings—they shot them at her with machine-gun precision. And out of principle, she went out of her way to disobey whenever practical.

  Today, she hovered on the spot, cataloguing her feelings about his arrogant manner. She found herself smiling.

  Interesting.

  Something deep inside made her want to please him, to call forth his approval and hopefully one of his blinding smiles—for her eyes only.

  Okay.

  A seat by the fire it was.

  She glided toward the hearth and sank to the floor. The flames flickered with vitality, an invisible power—a little like the coil of energy tucked deep inside her heart. She would fling off the fetters of parental management. Slowly, slowly. She couldn’t continue to live this way without resentment eating away her soul.

  “Here, drink this,” Dallas said, handing her a steaming mug. “It’ll warm you up.”

  A citrus scent grabbed her when she took a sip. Whiskey burned down her throat when she swallowed. She coughed, spluttered, shot him a look. “What is this?”

  Dallas sent her a lazy grin and joined her by the fire. He sprawled back on a dark green couch, his drink in hand. “It’s Irish whiskey toddy. My grandmother swears by them to keep away winter ails. We sell a lot at the pub during the cooler weather. What do you think?”

  “Nice, although it’s probably not so good on an empty stomach.”

  The faint tinge of Irish in his voice brought the urge to shiver, the urge to ask a question to hear it again, the desperate urge to reach out, to touch. Her family bore Irish roots too, but they’d worked hard to shed every hint of their motherland.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll feed you soon.”

  “I thought cooking was allocated to me.”

  “We’ll take turns. You can do breakfast.” He surveyed her face, his eyes narrowing a fraction, head cocking to the side. “Why don’t you come and sit up here by me?” His voice lowered to a silky drawl.

  The core of power inside her pulsated, echoed in her lady parts. “Do you bite?”

  “Yes.” His eyes took on a predatory light. “But it won’t hurt a bit.”

  Despite herself, her chuckle held a smidgeon of unease, and she saw he recognized her burst of anxiety. He didn’t say a word more, merely sipped his toddy and watched her like a sharp-eyed predator while she struggled with her instinct to flee.

  No point exchanging one prison for another. But this was for the weekend—one, maybe two days. Although she didn’t know him well, she’d instinctively collected info over the years because he’d caught her interest. She’d become a good judge of people, trusted her intuition.

  Yes.

  Without another conscious thought, she joined him on the couch.

  His dark brows rose. “Are you sure you should be doing this?”

  God, she loved listening to him speak. So masculine. He oozed confidence, and it was a sexy thing. “I’m attracted to you. We have an opportunity, so why not indulge ourselves?”

  “What about my reputation?”

  “I’ve never heard anything bad about you.” But she’d heard envy and pissed from Aaron when Dallas had moved on a woman her brother wanted.

  “How do I know you’re not playing me? That you’re not gonna call rape once the weekend is done.”

  She gaped at him, appalled he’d suspect her capable of such despicable behavior. “If you’re not interested, tell me. I’m not in favor of coercion either.”

  “And she’s back.” Amusement darkened his eyes. “The crisp touch-me-not princess has returned.”

  “Fuck off,” she snapped.

  “Ooh, gutter mouth. I bet your mother would instruct the housekeeper to soap your mouth for that one.”

  Heat poured into her face, and she turned away to stare at the flames. “Stop baiting me.” The words emerged with a helping of sulky. Damn, she was blowing this opportunity. She’d never have another chance, not like this. Taking a deep breath, she forced her gaze back to him. “I’m offering uncomplicated and enjoyable sex. No strings. Once I leave, we both walk away without looking back.
If you don’t want that, I’m adult enough to accept rejection.”

  “I have a girlfriend.”

  Silence fell, appalled on her part. “Why didn’t you say so?” She didn’t poach other girls’ men. “I’d never knowingly participate in cheating. That’s not me. Let’s change the subject and forget my proposition. No, wait. First, I want to apologize for putting you in this position, although you could’ve set me straight hours ago. Jeesh.”

  He gave a swift nod, grinned. “My girlfriend and I parted ways last year. There hasn’t been anyone serious since then.”

  “But why—” Talk about a rollercoaster ride. Irritation snapped back her confusion. “What the heck? Why would you do that?”

  His smirk disappeared, replaced by a serious mien. “I wanted to see how far you’d go. I have a strict set of rules when it comes to sex, and I wanted to see if we jibed on our philosophies. The last thing I want is to land in the middle of a trap set by a spoiled little rich girl.”

  “It’s not my fault I was born to a wealthy family,” she retorted, tempted to hurl her drink at his pretty face. Why had she ever wanted to kiss that mouth?

  It lied. It played women. It had played her.

  “Put yourself in my position. Ever since Laurence Drummond and Sean O’Grady arrived in New Zealand and filed a joint claim on the Otago goldfields, our families have been at war. I need more than your word if we’re going to play nice together. I don’t want my cock to lead me into trouble and have the consequences nip me on the arse.”

  Laura groped to apply fairness to the situation. She sucked in a harsh breath, gripped her glass so hard the heat of the liquid burned her palms. Despite her anger, she understood his reticence, admitted in his place, she’d hold reservations. She glanced up to find him observing her, a peculiar expression etched into his features.

  “What do you want?” she asked. “What can I do to prove my sincerity here?”

  “What do I want?” he mused, throwing her words back at her. He sipped his toddy, still watching her until she felt like a trapped mouse. He, of course, was the sleek black cat waiting to pounce. Instead of putting her out of her misery, he lingered, savoring her frustration and her impatience. Enjoying her unease.

  “Now who’s playing?” An edge of bitterness gilded her words. The weekend stretched before her, an unbearably long and wide crocodile-infested river. No way around and no way across.

  He set his toddy down on a side table and stood abruptly. “Stay there.”

  Nowhere else to go. She relaxed and stretched her toes to the warmth of the fire. Sighing, Laura took another sip of her toddy and closed her eyes. At least this was restful—when they weren’t having confusing discussions.

  She couldn’t be sorry she was missing the hen party and the pre-wedding dramatics. After this wedding, she’d become the sole remaining single, female cousin. A project. No wonder her mother was shoving her at James. Jessica Drummond hated her sisters to out-do her own efforts. A shudder tore through Laura at the thought of her wedding. It would take on the air of a Hollywood production.

  No. No. If she ever overturned her decision to remain single, she’d elope. Somewhere hot, tropical.

  Much simpler.

  “Are you awake?”

  “Nope,” she said, regaining her earlier cheerfulness. She’d treat this weekend as a lazy holiday where she pleased herself. Pity she hadn’t packed her vibrator, but not all was lost. She’d go manual.

  “Read this,” he said, sitting beside her.

  She opened her eyes, caught the faint whiff of soap. Something earthy and exotic with shades of sandalwood. “Homework?” she asked, squinting at the paper he held in his left hand.

  “It’s a written agreement,” he said, a faint air of challenge, of attitude.

  It was his silent ultimatum that made her straighten, set her toddy aside and accept the pages. She started reading, stopping before she reached point one. Her gaze lifted to his. “A contract between lovers?”

  “Yeah. Read, digest, ask questions. If you agree, sign and we go from there. If we’re having sex, I want your signature stating you agreed. Last thing I need are accusations of rape.”

  He met her gaze without dissembling, sure and confident. Unapologetic.

  His cool attitude fostered the same in her plus understanding. Her family…

  She gave a curt nod and applied her attention to what was essentially a legal document between lovers. If she signed, she was agreeing to become his lover for— “One month?” she queried. “Why a month? We’re talking a weekend.”

  “I don’t think two days will be enough.”

  Her stomach did a little shimmy—excitement or fear. Laura wasn’t certain. “We could amend and initial the agreement.”

  “I’d prefer to leave it as is. You might start to act crazy once this weekend is over and say I initialed the agreement afterward. I don’t want to give you reasons to dispute this contract at a later date.”

  “I thought men were the ones who enjoyed uncomplicated.”

  “A month is the perfect length of time to explore each other. I’m kind of bossy. I’d want you to submit to my every whim.”

  Wait. “I’m not a submissive.”

  His gaze speared into her, hard and compelling. “Why don’t we explore the possibilities and see? Aren’t you curious about how good we’d be together?”

  The wretched man had an answer for everything. “So you’re saying you want me for a month?”

  “I want to do things properly.”

  Laura resisted her urge to roll her eyes—a difficult assignment. None of what had happened today was appropriate. Propositioning a man—the enemy—certainly wasn’t proper or dignified. Heck, it didn’t even rate as smart. But something in him called and goaded her to the shocking. “How do we continue this contract after the weekend is over?”

  Maybe she should let him act the instructor. She might learn something.

  “You could do a trial period as my new admin person. I’ll give you a basic wage. We can spend some of our nights together.”

  She thought about it, nodded. His offer of a job was the deciding factor. “If the job works out, you’ll keep me on? You wouldn’t fire me after our month ends?”

  “I’ll judge you solely on your merits. If you’re as good as you say, you won’t have any problems. What about your family? What would they think of you working for the enemy?”

  “I can deal with my family.” If she told herself that enough she might come to believe. She lowered her eyes to read the document again. It seemed fair, straightforward. “Do you have a pen?”

  For an instant, she thought she saw surprise flicker across his face, but it was gone so swiftly she decided she’d imagined the emotion. He stood, grabbed a pen off the kitchen counter and returned to her side.

  She took it, stared at the blank space mocking her before signing her name with a flourish. She offered the pen to him and watched him sign in bold strokes.

  Let the games begin.

  Chapter Three

  Laura Drummond was a surprise. A challenge. Dallas placed the signed contract on the side table without taking his eyes off her. Although she was young, she possessed a classy polish. She’d tidied her blonde hair and it hung in sexy waves around her face, scraped her shoulders when she swung her head. Her brown eyes were the color of his Irish whiskey while her skin was pale and looked silky-smooth.

  The sweats hid her curves, but he knew they were there. She wasn’t a skinny model wannabe, and he liked that—nothing worse than sharp bones. He preferred a little padding to cradle him when he made love to a woman.

  Love.

  The word gave him pause. This weekend would be about sex. A tiny voice at the back of his mind chuckled. She challenged him, made him laugh. She poked his curiosity. Unlike her siblings, she’d left Clare to live and work i
n Napier. She hadn’t acted the sponge and settled in luxurious comfort at the Drummond mansion.

  “Do you like pasta?” he asked.

  “Love it, although I don’t get to eat it very often.”

  “Are you on a diet?”

  She made a rude sound. “Someone wash the man’s mouth out with soap. You with the four-letter words.”

  He grinned. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

  “Tell me about the pubs,” she said, taking a sip of her toddy. “Do you have Irish music nights?”

  “We do, plus the usual pub things. Darts. Karaoke. Quiz nights. Anything to bring in the customers.”

  “Where are the pubs?”

  “One is in Lester Street and the other is off the main street, near the main clump of art deco buildings.”

  She nodded. “Where do you live?”

  “The Lester Street pub has a flat above it. If I’m not here at the cabin, I stay at the pub. What about you?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “The best way to pry myself loose from Clare was by promising to stay at the company apartment. It was a compromise. Once I get a steady income and save enough to pay the rental security bond plus the first week of rent, I’ll find my own place. Another degree of separation,” she said drily. “My family try to micro-manage me. They still think of me as the baby. When do I get to kiss you?”

  “When I say so.” It was difficult to restrain his amusement but he managed. God, he loved a challenge. He’d needed this, needed her. His brothers were right. He was hiding behind the business, but Maria had ripped his guts out when they parted. Something about Laura spoke to him, made him want to totter back to normalcy.

  “So, when you mentioned bossy, what do you mean?”

  “I like to control the way my relationship goes.” He swallowed the dregs of his toddy while he marshaled his thoughts. “And sometimes I dip into kinky.”

  “What sort of kinky? Spanking? Anal? Something along those lines?”