by Nicola Marsh
“You want me to stick around for a week. Won’t getting acquaint with the town’s attractions help?”
“You think?”
He laughed at her dubious tone as he slid into the car and turned to face her. “You know it’s not just this place, right?”
“You mean you have an aversion to every small town in America?”
Guilt flickered across his face, guilt tinged with pain and in that second she knew Marc wasn’t as tough and ruthless as he liked to make out; and he had a story to tell.
“Let’s just say I’m better suited to the big city lights.”
“Should I expect you to break into a rousing rendition of ‘New York, New York’ any second?”
He chuckled, gunned the engine and steered the car onto the road. “I’ve been told my vocal skills are on a par with the rest of my talents, so only if you’re lucky.”
“That good?”
“Better.”
His quick glance smoldered with heat and sizzle and untold promise and she gulped, her fingers flexing, digging into the soft leather of her bag in an attempt to anchor them and stop from reaching out and dragging him across the seat towards her, screw the driving.
“Ever heard the phrase self-recommendation is no praise?”
“Nope.”
“Well, it is.”
“Why don’t you try me and find out?”
“We’re talking about your singing?”
“Whatever takes your fancy.”
She snuck a sideways glance but thankfully, his gaze was firmly fixed on the road. By the wicked smile playing about his mouth they weren’t talking about his vocal chords. Not by a long shot.
“Which way?”
She pointed to the right as they came to a T intersection and he glanced at her for a brief moment, his blistering gaze telling her they weren’t finished with this conversation.
“You’re confusing me.”
“How so?”
“One minute you’re grumpy, the next you’re trying to charm the pants off me.”
He slowed to let a squirrel dart across the road, her admiration grudgingly ratcheting up another few notches.
“Is it working?”
Her unladylike snort made him laugh. “Here’s a tip, Slick. It’ll take more than a few smooth words to charm anything off me.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
His hand reached over and rested on her thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze and she bit back a groan. Electricity ricocheted through her body, pinging in every direction, zapping the bits in between.
While her logical brain hollered slow down, her hot-wired body was on a fast track to sin city.
His hand wandered back to the steering wheel all too soon as she indicated he take the next turn on the left.
She stared at his hands clenching the steering wheel. She loved their strength: long fingers, square nails, the faintest dusting of dark hair. Solid, capable hands, comforting hands, hands she’d give anything to feel exploring every inch of her…
“Where are we?”
She snapped to attention, her erotic daydream obliterated as she registered he’d pulled into the car park at the top of Mount Eros.
“Come on, I’ll show you.”
She leaped from the car and headed for the partially hidden track worn into rocks leading to the summit, eager to put some physical distance between them before she grabbed his hands and put them right where she wanted them: anywhere and everywhere on her body.
“Hey, wait up.”
Glancing back, she saw his gaze move swiftly from her butt to her face and his hungry gleam only served to make her pick up the pace.
“Not far to go,” she flung over her shoulder, her labored breathing a result of that one, loaded look rather than the steady incline she’d climbed countless times before. “Wait ‘til you see the view.”
“I like the view from here just fine.”
She yelped as he slid his arms around her waist from behind, unaware he’d caught up let alone was in touching distance.
“Hey, I—”
“Ssh, too much talking will scare the wildlife away.”
“How would you know—”
He spun her around so fast the air whooshed out of her lungs, before covering her mouth with his.
One touch, one incredible, searing touch of his lips to hers was all it took for her to sag against him, clinging to his polo shirt, trying to anchor in a world spinning dangerously out of control.
She didn’t know this guy.
She didn’t want something transient.
She didn’t want to get involved with anyone, least of all someone like him.
None of it mattered as he deepened the kiss and ravished her mouth, his tongue plunging like he couldn’t taste her quick enough.
The same hunger drove her to match him and she shuddered with pleasure as he backed her up against the nearest tree and pressed into her.
He shackled her wrists as he lifted her arms overhead, pinning them against the scratchy bark, leaving her body open and eager and straining towards him.
“You’re so goddamn beautiful.”
Her low moan tore from somewhere deep within as his greedy gaze traveled the length of her body, devouring, lingering, before he met her eyes and the depth of his desire snatched her breath.
The raucous laughter of kids crashing through the bush nearby dispelled her lust-crazy haze as Marc swore and released her.
“Mount Eros is a popular spot, what can I say?” She made a half-hearted attempt to smooth her hair, not caring she probably had bark and twigs sticking out of it. She wouldn’t be the first woman to come down from Mount Eros with the local flora in her hair and a satisfied smile on her face.
“You can say there’ll be plenty more where that came from.”
“Wishful thinking—”
His lips seared hers in a quick kiss, a kiss filled with heat and promise, a kiss that blew any feeble hope she had of not taking this all the way clean into the wild blue yonder.
He gripped her hand while pointed with the other toward the lookout. “Time to show me a few landmarks before I lose my head again.”
She tried to think up a quick retort, something fabulously witty but her mind refused to cooperate as she concentrated on setting one foot in front of the other, no mean feat with her knees wobbling like just-set jelly.
When they reached the lookout he didn’t release her hand and as much as it pained her to admit it, she liked it.
How long since she’d had a man touch her let alone hold her hand? Kissing, foreplay, sex, great in their own right but there was something about holding hands…an intimacy, a security she’d craved all her life but never had.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out her lack of trust in the male species stemmed from flakey Bob but this thing with Marc wasn’t about security. It couldn’t be. Not when he’d be out of here in a few days.
“Wow, some view.”
“Not bad for a small town, huh?”
Her teasing had lost its usual edge and he smiled, sliding an arm around her waist, pulling her close.
“Love’s attractions are growing on me.”
Rather than call him on his corny line she snuggled closer, content to let his warmth infuse her as dusk descended, a stunning kaleidoscope of deep indigo, mauve, magenta and saffron streaking the horizon stretching to infinity.
Mount Eros wouldn’t win any contests for the most feet above sea level but it afforded a view of Love second to none and for this all-too-brief moment she was happy to share it with him.
She had no idea how long they stood there in easy silence, bodies touching, heat sparking, the underlying current arcing between them ready to short circuit with the slightest encouragement, and when they slowly disengaged and Marc offered his hand, she had no hesitation in taking it.
Plenty of time to second-guess herself. Tomorrow.
Flo dragged a hand through her wiry curls, took a drag on her cigaret
te and cursed her arthritic ankles as she slid them to the floor from the seat opposite.
Damn diner floors, she thought, mentally calculating how many years she’d have to work nights to pay off Charlie’s debts and become a lady of leisure.
Despite her whining she liked chatting with the customers, giving Chuck hell and gossiping with Essie during the breaks. The work may be hard on her legs but she’d miss the socializing when she finally hung up her apron.
With a hefty sigh she shuffled over to the coffee pot and refilled her mug with the strong black brew, glancing out the window in the process. Young Marc’s car had been in the drive earlier and Ripley was bounding around Sierra’s backyard so that could only mean one thing. The youngsters made it back last night despite her praying that fancy-shmancy car of his would break down in LA, forcing them to spend the night together.
Fat chance a car that flash would accommodate an old lady’s wishes. She’d just have to meddle. Together with Liv, surely the two of them could get the brats into the swing of things?
Liv had reported she’d never seen her son get ‘that look’ and she could personally vouch for Sierra acting weird at the park the other day, as if she was itching to hotfoot it out to Hank’s place.
Yep, the two were interested in each other and with a gentle shove in the right direction Love could manufacture yet another happy ending.
Flo turned away from the window, rinsed her mug and picked up her keys, ready for her morning constitutional. It was the only way to keep her dodgy ankles mobile, especially after a killer shift like the one last night.
As she slipped on her shoes at the back door, her doorbell sang its familiar tune, Peter Allen’s lyrics never failing to bring a tear to her eye.
As soon as her debts were cleared she’d take a long trip to Sydney, have a few beers for old time’s sake and climb the Bridge. She’d always wanted to do it as a youngster but like many things in life she hadn’t had the opportunity.
Meeting Charlie had put paid to a lot of her dreams. In fact, after the honeymoon period, life with the no good lump had turned into a nightmare with his constant moaning, groaning and anti-social personality.
The tune rang out again, bringing her back to the present.
“Hold your horses, I’m coming.”
She briefly wondered if Liv had come for an update on the couple as she opened the door.
“Good morning. I believe this is where Marc Fairley is staying?”
Flo resisted her first impulse to reach up and pat her wayward curls as her gaze flicked over the stranger standing on her doorstep. Attractive. Very attractive. Around sixty, fair hair streaked silver, clear blue eyes surrounded by a few wrinkles to lend his face character.
It wasn’t fair. She had a roadmap crisscrossing her face and his Lordship with the toff accent barely had a track or two.
“Madam? Is Master Marc here?”
Madam? Master? Jeez, the old toff sounded like he’d just stepped off the Mayflower.
She grinned and held out her hand. “That depends whose asking. I’m Flo. Pleased to meet you.” Very pleased to meet you.
Men who looked like this codger didn’t ring her bell every day. Now, if only he could ring her bells in earnest…As if. Which man in his right mind would look sideways at an ugly old bat like her?
He held her hand and all but bowed over it. “William Jamieson.”
“You’re a Pom, Will?”
He stiffened and dropped her hand. “Yes, I’m English. And by your reference, I assume you’re Australian?”
“Too right, though I’ve lived in this town longer than I care to remember.”
He cleared his throat and she had the distinct impression he didn’t give a flying fig about her background, how long she’d lived here or anything else about her. Men like him were born polite and that’s all he was doing, making polite small talk. And here she was, babbling like a fool in the hope to keep him here longer.
“Is Master Marc in?”
Bingo. He’d dispensed with the small talk and was reasserting his reason for listening to a desperate old lady rambling.
“Marc went out early this morning. Not sure where or how long he’ll be. He’s staying in the apartment over my garage, afraid I don’t know about his comings and goings.”
Unless she peeped out her blinds every time she heard his door open to see if he was heading over to Sierra’s, that is.
“Anything I can do? Give him a message?” She paused and delivered her coup de grace. “Or you could come in, have a cuppa and wait if you like.”
In true stiff-upper-lip style, he didn’t bat an eyelid though she could’ve sworn she glimpsed horror in his blue eyes.
Who could blame him? She wasn’t exactly dressed to receive visitors: her green cotton leisure suit had seen better days, her hair needed a trim and she’d barely had the energy to splash water on her face this morning. Little wonder he looked ready to bolt despite his insistence on seeing Marc.
“Thanks for the offer but I might take a look around town. If Marc gets back, could you tell him I’m looking for him and his cell phone is off?”
“No worries. If you need anything…” she trailed off, feeling foolish. Like he’d come knocking on her door again in a hurry.
To her amazement, he smiled and the action softened his semi-stern expression. Not to mention the weird sensation it created in her stomach, like she’d eaten one of Essie’s day-old burritos, a fluttery, scary tumbling she knew couldn’t be good.
“That’s very kind of you. I might see you again.”
With a wave that resembled the Queen’s, he walked down her path and out the gate.It took all of three seconds to realize she was staring at his arse and she quickly slammed the door.
“I’m too old for this shite,” she muttered, her well-worn phrase doing little to calm the peculiar churning in her gut as she tried to forget his smile.
Marc sat across from his mom and sipped at his tea, unable to shake the surreal feeling he’d stepped into an alternate universe.
Monday mornings usually comprised a quick scan of weekend emails, monitoring the latest projects, checking the opposition and planning the week’s takeovers. Instead, here he was having a leisurely breakfast at a farm trying to come to terms with his mom’s pending nuptials.
“More toast? Another egg?”
He shook his head, in shock after seeing his mom cooking and the fact it tasted good. At home he’d never seen her near a stove let alone turn one on to whip up a meal.
“I’m fine.”
Her eyes twinkled as she placed her empty teacup in its sauce.
“Sure? Seems like you haven’t been fine since you bowled in here the other day ready to whisk me off to a mental institution?”
He managed a wry grin. “I was a bit overprotective.”
“I’ll take it as a sign you care.”
Never one to show his emotions, he struggled to find the right words before settling for the truth.
“I love you, Mom. ‘Course I care. I always have.”
He’d just had a lousy way of showing it and it had taken his mom’s battle with booze to snap him out of his selfish reverie.
“I know you do, Sweetheart. I love you too.” She reached forward and touched his cheek. “We haven’t been close in the past but I aim to remedy that. It means a lot to me you’ve decided to spend some time in Love, getting to know Hank and coming to terms with our wedding. It can’t be easy for you.”
She had that right. Being out of his comfort zone wasn’t a feeling he relished and spending more than a weekend in this town should’ve sent him into a spin. However, he’d mellowed since he first hit town. Maybe it was his attraction to Sierra, his bizarre fondness for his whacky landlady, the Mexican food to die for at the time-warp diner or a combination of everything this place had to offer that had him more relaxed than he’d been in ages.
“You mean Annie?”
She nodded, taking her time to refill her teacup,
not quite meeting his eyes. He’d always sidestepped every attempt she’d made to discuss his failed marriage, making excuses, citing work. Now they had a chance to discuss it yet he was no closer to divulging a thing.
“You never spoke about her once the divorce was final. Do you ever hear from her?”
“God no!”
His outburst had her chuckling and he reluctantly joined in.
“Annie was a mistake. She used me to escape that hokey town, I used her to make dad mad. We were doomed from the start.”
“Did you ever love her?”
Good question, one he’d asked himself on countless occasions and he came to the same conclusion each and every time: he’d never loved her, had never loved anybody.
“We had a strong attraction, it was enough for a while.”
“It’s never enough. But what’s done is done, time to look to the future.”
She patted his hand. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Long overdue, us spending time together.” He squeezed her hand before releasing it. “A-Corp practically runs itself these days so a little R and R won’t hurt.”
His mom’s mouth dropped before she hid her surprise with a chuckle. “Whatever’s gotten into you, I like it. Never thought I’d see the day where you took time out, not unless it involved entertaining clients.”
“I’m not George.”
As soon as the words popped out he wished he’d kept his big mouth shut as the sparkle in her eyes waned.
“It’s okay, honey. I thank God every day you’re nothing like your father.”
That’s where she was wrong. It was his greatest fear, that he was as much of a bastard as George.
He’d married Annie to disprove it, to show he could marry and make it work yet had failed, her accusations of heartlessness and coldness chilling reminders he was like his father despite efforts to the contrary.
Then there was the business arena, where he’d hear himself bark orders over the phone or drive a deal home with callous indifference and get a startling glimpse of how his father operated.
And now, by besting George he could take his company all the way to the top yet jeopardizing his growing relationship with Sierra in the process, making him as merciless as the old man.