by Lori Wilde
Elizabeth flicked a glance at the steel-and-glass showpiece next door and shuddered theatrically.
“Promise me you won’t ever build one of those,” she said.
He looked at her, her hair silver, her eyes a very dark blue in the moonlight. “I promise.”
“You want to lie on the blanket and watch the stars?”
“No.”
A slow smile curled her mouth. “Really. What did you have in mind?”
He showed her, leading her to the studio and peeling her clothes off slowly. Kissing the tan lines on her shoulders and breasts. Pushing her back onto the bed and taking her nipple into his mouth. She moaned her pleasure and spread her legs languorously. He licked and sucked and nibbled his way down her belly, smiling when her breath caught as she understood where he was going.
He loved the way she responded to his touch. So openly, so unashamedly. Despite her very proper accent and her perfect manners and her very practical nature, in bed she was a willing, greedy wanton and he loved it.
He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her panties and tugged them down. She drove her fingers into his hair and lifted her hips as he lowered his head and inhaled the good, clean scent of her.
He parted her with his fingers, then tasted her. She shivered, her thighs tightening against his shoulders. He explored her soft folds, teasing, flicking, stroking until she was panting and arching her back, on the verge of climax. He shed his T-shirt and shorts in record time and surged into her.
He closed his eyes, deliberately fixing this moment, this sensation in his mind. If he had to have all the bad stuff, all the horror, he should be able to have this, too. And maybe some nights when she was gone he’d dream of her and of being with her instead of the other.
She pulled him down on top of her. They kissed as he stroked in and out of her. He knew she was close and he ran his hands over her breasts and belly and thighs. She called his name, her fingers clenching into his backside. And then she was coming, her head thrown back, her breasts lifting. He drove deep inside her and held her close as his own climax hit him.
He started to roll away from her but she held him still.
“Not yet.”
“I’m too heavy.”
“No, you’re not.”
She wrapped her arms around him and he lay on top of her, breathing to her rhythm, feeling her heart beat against his chest. After a while she pressed her face into his neck and inhaled deeply.
“Okay,” she sighed.
He smiled faintly as he rolled to one side. “We can do it again if you give me twenty minutes to recover.”
“Okay. But the clock is on, Mr. Jones.”
She fell asleep after the second time and he lay beside her listening to the sound of her breathing for a long time before he fell asleep.
NATE WOKE IN THE EARLY hours and lay staring at the ceiling in the dark, trying to ignore the promptings of his conscience. After half an hour he eased away from Elizabeth and climbed out of bed. Dressed in only a pair of boxer-briefs, he padded outside to where the recycling bin was stored.
The envelopes were where he’d left them, piled on top of a stack of newspapers. He grabbed them and took them into the kitchen, then he grabbed a knife from the butcher’s block and sat at the table.
By the time dawn was turning the sky apricot he’d opened four months’ worth of financial reports, marketing strategies and client account summaries. He knew the business was doing okay. Not brilliantly, but okay. Something to be expected in these tough economic times, perhaps, but Smartsell had been on a huge growth curve six months ago and there was still plenty of juice left in the market. Their point of sale and stock keeping program had blown the existing players out of the water when they’d launched four years ago. Their competitors’ systems were older, based on inflexible, outdated platforms. Smartsell was cheaper, faster, more efficient and more user-friendly. By rights, the company should still be converting retailers by the bucket load.
Looking over the marketing reports, Nate could see that Jarvie had pulled back on advertising and other promotional activity. Operations and development had always been Nate’s responsibility, marketing and roll-out Jarvie’s. But it was clear that with Nate’s absence from the business, Jarvie was letting marketing flounder in order to keep operations ticking over.
It wasn’t a dire picture, by any means. Smartsell was in no danger of folding. But it wasn’t the way it should be. Not by a long shot.
He was jotting down notes when the bead curtain rattled and Elizabeth entered the kitchen.
“You’re up early,” she said. Her gaze took in the discarded envelopes and piles of paper. “Couldn’t sleep.”
He sat back and rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes. Then he looked at her.
“How do you feel about a trip to the city?”
ELIZABETH TRIED TO HIDE her excitement as she drove Nate into Melbourne later that morning. He’d opened the envelopes. He’d absorbed their contents, and now he wanted to reengage with his old life. She was no psychologist, but she figured this had to be a good sign. A great sign. He’d been drinking less lately, too. And although he had never specifically admitted it, she knew he was sleeping better—through the night, in most cases.
Maybe…
Maybe time was working its magic. Maybe his mind was slowly coming to terms with that horrible night and the loss of his sister.
He started giving her directions when they hit one of the main highways into the city, and soon she was pulling up out the front of a high-rise building on a wide, tree-lined boulevard that Nate told her was called St. Kilda Road.
She glanced up at the building, assuming it was Smartsell’s headquarters. It was pretty damn impressive. Clearly, Nate and his business partner had done well for themselves.
“I’m probably going to be a while. There’s good shopping in the city center, and two art galleries,” Nate said as he gathered his papers and jacket.
“Don’t worry. If there’s a shoe shop, I’ll be right for hours.”
“There are lots of shoe shops.”
He already had her phone number and they agreed he’d call her when he was ready to be collected. She put a hand on his arm when he was about to slide out of the car. “Good luck.”
He smiled tightly and exited the car. It was busy, nearly eleven o’clock, and there were lots of cars speeding past and a steady flow of people in and out of the building. She watched Nate glance around, clearly ill at ease. She was finding all the rush and noise and urgency a little overwhelming after only a few weeks on the island. She could only imagine what a culture shock it was for him to be in the thick of commerce again.
He glanced back at her and caught her watching. He forced a smile, then he turned and walked into the building. She stared after him, wishing she could go with him. But Nate would hardly want to have her playing shotgun while he reimmersed himself in his business.
She found parking under one of the big buildings in the city center and made her way into a large department store. Christmas decorations hung from the ceilings and display ends. She hadn’t given much thought to Christmas—since meeting Nate the world had devolved to just the two of them.
She spent the next hour searching for suitable gifts for her family. She found a pair of leather gloves for her grandfather and a cashmere shawl in her grandmother’s favorite periwinkle-blue. She spotted a set of frilly, silly pajamas that absolutely screamed Violet and added them to her haul.
What to buy Nate presented a bigger problem. The one thing she wished for him in all the world—peace of mind—was not hers to give. Everything else seemed incredibly frivolous by comparison. She settled for buying him a new wallet, since she’d noticed the corner was frayed on his, as well as a bottle of the aftershave she knew he liked.
She waited in line to have her presents wrapped, then she waited in line at the post office to put the bulk of them in the mail. With a bit of luck they’d make it home by Christmas.
Twenty minutes later, she was reading over the sheaf of papers she’d been handed when she asked about applying to work as a teacher in Australia. It seemed a fairly straightforward process, especially since she could now claim an Australian as her parent. She smiled a little grimly to herself. Perhaps Sam Blackwell might be of some use to her, after all.
She was having a coffee in the State Library when Nate called.
“Hi. Are you ready to go?” she asked. She checked her watch and blinked when she saw that it was a quarter to four.
Which meant Nate had been at Smartsell for nearly five hours. That had to be good news.
She wanted to ask how he was doing, how he was feeling, but she knew better than to come right out with it.
“All done. Want to come pick me up?”
“I’m in the city,” she said. “I’m not sure how long it will take me, but I’m leaving now.”
She gathered the application forms she’d been going over and stuffed them into her handbag, then she walked to the car. Rush hour was starting and it took her nearly half an hour to make her way back to St. Kilda Road where she’d left Nate.
He was standing at the front, a folder of papers in hand, and he walked to the car and got in the moment she pulled over.
“I’m so sorry. I think maybe I came the worst possible way,” she said.
“No worries. I figured it’d be pretty busy out there. How was the shopping?”
“Competitive. I nearly had to wrestle a woman to the ground over a cashmere shawl for my grandmother.”
He seemed more relaxed than when they’d arrived and she wondered if she should even raise the thought that had occurred to her on the drive over: the fact that with traffic the way it was, there was no way they’d be able to reach the island before nightfall.
“Nate, it’s pretty late. If we head off now…”
His face tightened. “Yeah.”
She waited in silence as he mulled the situation over.
“How do you feel about a night in town?” he finally asked.
He didn’t look at her. He was embarrassed. Probably ashamed, too, knowing Nate. It wasn’t enough that he had to deal with the repercussions of the accident, he had to give himself a hard time for being human, too.
“Great. Then we can drive back first thing in the morning,” she said.
“We could do a hotel, or we can go to my place. Your choice.”
Nate’s place. Useless to pretend she didn’t want to see where he lived. But she couldn’t help but notice the flat tone in his voice, and the fact that he’d given her a choice.
“Which would you prefer?” she asked.
“I’m not a child, Lizzy. Pick whatever suits you. I don’t need to be coddled every step of the goddamned way.”
She flinched at the sharp tone in his voice. There was a taut moment of silence in the car, then he sighed heavily. “Sorry.”
He didn’t say anything else but he reached across the console and took her hand. She looked at their joined hands, his skin still so much browner than hers.
“I picked up some forms from the education department today,” she said in a rush. “The woman at the desk said I’d have no problem having my qualification recognized and registering for work if I wanted to teach in Australia.”
She glanced across at him, trying to read his reaction. He was very still, his face expressionless.
“What about your grandparents? Your life back in London?”
“I’ll miss them, of course. But London doesn’t have you, Nate.”
She held her breath, waiting for his response. It wasn’t long in coming.
“Bloody hell, Lizzy,” he said.
Suddenly she was in his arms, being held so tightly she could hardly breathe.
A slow smile crept across her face.
He wanted her to stay. He was glad she wasn’t going home.
“I guess that answers my question, then,” she said.
Nate’s grip eased and he pulled back so he could look into her face. He lifted a hand and touched the angle of her jaw, then he smoothed a finger along one of her eyebrows. “Lizzy.”
He kissed her, an almost violent, needy, urgent kiss that left her gasping when he finally broke away.
“Hotel or my place?” he asked as they grudgingly let each other go.
She glanced at the hard ridge in his jeans. “Which is closer?”
“My place.”
She started the car and looked at him expectantly.
“Take the first left,” he said.
She didn’t need to be told twice.
11
IT TOOK TEN MINUTES for Elizabeth to drive to Nate’s Albert Park home. It had been four months since Nate had been back. It had been too hard, waking up in a space that held so many memories of Olivia.
But if he hadn’t wanted to come here, he shouldn’t have given Elizabeth a choice.
“Oh, this is like London, with all the grand, la-di-da houses facing the central garden square,” Elizabeth said as she pulled up to the front of his house in St. Vincent Place.
“Mmm. Except our garden is public, not private,” he said.
“You colonials. I don’t know where you get your egalitarian values from.”
She gave him a cheeky look as she got out of the car. When he joined her on the pavement she was staring up at his house.
“Very elegant,” she said with an approving nod. “Did you choose the colors?”
He shook his head and knew she’d guessed that Olivia had.
“Well, she had excellent taste. I love the taupe facade with the glossy black lacework.”
Nate concentrated on finding the right key on his key ring. “She was great at all that sort of stuff. Designing clothes, colors, music. She was always working on something.”
Because he couldn’t delay it any longer, he opened the front gate and walked up the short path to the elaborately tiled porch.
His key slid into the lock and the door opened. He inhaled the smell of beeswax and sunshine and the faintest, lightest hint of raspberry lip gloss. Olivia’s favorite.
Elizabeth followed him inside, her footsteps echoing loudly on the wooden floor.
“This is lovely, too. Are you going to give me a tour?” she asked, glancing up the wide hallway.
There was no expectation in her tone. She was simply asking, giving him the opportunity to say yes or no as suited him. As usual, her cool, matter-of-fact approach gave him the breathing room he needed to adjust.
“It’s not exactly a mansion, but I’ll do my best to get us lost,” he said.
He led her through the airy, light living room and listened as she admired the cream-and-taupe decor, then through to the country-style kitchen with its white cabinets and pine counters and old-fashioned butler’s sink. She ran a hand over the smooth, worn surface of his French provincial dining table, one of Olivia’s must-haves from a local antique dealer, then walked through to the more casual and modern family room with its modular furniture and huge flat-screen TV.
“Your sister had a good eye,” she said. She wandered over to the French doors and looked out at the garden.
He moved to stand beside her. He’d paid the cleaner to come in once a week and air the place out, but the garden had been let go and the flower beds were bristling with weeds. The splash of bright red at the end of the garden drew his eye to the cheerful smiling grill of Olivia’s Mini Cooper parked to one side of the double car port. He’d bought it for her for her seventeenth birthday so she could learn to drive. She’d never had a chance to take it out on her own.
He turned
away in time to see Elizabeth pick up a photo frame from the bookshelf. He and Olivia at the beach. She was only fourteen and just showing the promise of the beauty she would one day become.
Elizabeth studied the photograph for a long moment, then she returned it to the bookshelf without saying anything and he led her into the hall and up the stairs.
“Spare bedroom, bathroom, study, my room,” he said, pointing to each doorway as they walked past. He didn’t mention the closed door at the other end of the hall.
Elizabeth stepped into his room and assessed the king-size bed and black-and-white photography on his walls with one sweeping glance. Then she reached for the buttons on her shirt and started to undress.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe there was an implied promise of sex upon arrival,” she said when he simply stood and watched her.
She let her shirt fall down her arms and crossed the room to slide her arms around him. She hugged him tightly for a long beat, then she began undoing his belt and unzipping his jeans.
Despite the weight bearing down on him, he felt himself becoming aroused. He took charge, walking her back toward his bed and pushing her down onto the mattress.
She watched as he stepped out of his jeans. He pushed up her skirt and pulled her panties down, then he slid his fingers into her slick folds and teased her, watching her face all the while. Her eyes grew heavy-lidded and she bit her lip. Her muscles tightened around him when he slid a finger inside her. He kept it there as he used his thumb to stroke her. She lifted her hips and clenched her hands in the quilt cover and moaned low in her throat.
He knew her sounds by now and he gripped his cock in his hand and stroked the slick seam of her sex with it, up and down, up and down.
“Yes, Nate, please,” she pleaded.
He slid inside her in small degrees, reveling in the way she sighed when he finally filled her.
Then there was just the slide of skin on skin and her hands gripping his shoulders and arms and backside as he pumped into her. They came together, shuddering out their pleasure in counterpoint. He rested his forehead on the bed beside her for a long moment afterward, then he turned his head and kissed her.