Just My Luck (Escape to New Zealand #5)

by Rosalind James

  “Doesn’t matter. I’ll take you to a flash place another time, when we’re both prepared for it. But for right now . . .” He nodded at the pub across the way. “We could go warm up inside, get something hot to eat.”

  She was shivering, he’d noticed. He wished he had something to wrap around her. He thought about those old movies where some fella took off his jacket and put it around the woman’s shoulders. A bit corny, he’d always thought. Now, he wished he could do it.

  “OK, but . . . Dinner and what else?” she persisted.

  “Well, dinner and head-banging sex, if I get my choice,” he said, trying out a grin. “Or just dinner. Or anything in between. I’ll take what I can get.”

  “Dinner,” she decided, giving him a smile of her own.

  “Can I give you a lift home?” he asked when they’d eaten. After he’d watched her laughing across the table at him, teasing him, flirting with him. “Now that you’ve revealed where you live and all.”

  “Sure,” she said with a quick smile that made his heart pound just a little harder. “That’d be nice.”

  They were walking up the broad expanse of bridge and plaza that spanned the busy streets, connecting the wharf with the main body of the CBD, when they heard the music. A few more steps, and the source came into view.

  “What are those things?” he asked as they approached the two large xylophone-shaped instruments, metal sound tubes of graduated lengths hanging beneath the wooden slats.

  “Vibraphones!” she said with delight, moving to join the crowd that had gathered to watch the two women behind the table-like instruments, each beating out her share of the complicated tune with a pair of mallets. A young man with long blond dreadlocks provided a percussion accompaniment on bongo drums, and the result was a joyous, irresistibly infectious melody that had the Friday-evening tourists and locals clapping along and even dancing a little in place.

  Nate looked down at Ally. At the wide smile that had spread across her face, her rapt expression. He had a feeling they were going to be here for a while. Which suited him. Listening to this, watching her—yeh, that suited him down to the ground.

  And then it got even better, because a pair of young blondes, Scandinavians maybe, broke out of the group and began to dance in the center of the semicircle that had formed around the musicians. And Ally was laughing, dropping her bag by his feet, and moving to join them. Of course she was. Whirling and prancing in that little patterned dress with the straps crossed over the back, her bare, tanned arms and legs moving with joyful grace, the sparkle in her eyes, her flying ponytail, her smile radiating pure pleasure in the music, in the moment.

  “Come on, sweet thing,” she beckoned him with a laugh, a seductive crook of her finger that he could tell she meant as a joke, but that had his temperature rising all the same. “Dance with me.”

  He smiled back and shook his head. Because that photo would be sure to turn up in the Dominion Post, and wouldn’t he feel like a fool then. And he wouldn’t have done it anyway. Because he wanted to watch.

  She came back to him, still laughing, after the song ended, while the crowd was still applauding. Nate finished signing autographs for a few excited kids who had spotted him, then turned back to Ally where she crouched over her bag.

  “Just a sec,” she smiled up at him. “I just need to find my wallet so I can give them something.”

  “No worries.” He dug out his own wallet, stepped forward and dropped a bill into the musicians’ basket.

  “Cheers, Nate,” the bongo player said with a grin, never missing a beat in the new tune the group had struck up.

  “Sure you want to leave?” Nate asked Ally as they headed down the ramp on the other side of the wide bridge. “Don’t want to listen some more? Or dance?”

  “Not if you aren’t going to dance with me,” she said saucily. “Chicken.”

  “I wouldn’t have had such a good view, then, would I,” he teased back.

  “Ha. Probably looking at those blonde girls. I know your kind.” She gave a little toss of her ponytail that had him smiling again.

  “Nah,” he told her. “That was all you. Nobody but you.”

  He still didn’t get head-banging sex. But taking her home was pretty good all the same.

  “Well,” she said, unfastening her shoulder belt after he’d pulled up. “Thanks for dinner.”

  He clicked the release on his own belt. “I’ll walk you to your door.”

  “No, that’s OK,” she protested. “You don’t have to.” But she wasn’t moving to collect her bag from the back seat, he realized.

  “Yeh, I do.” He reached across the console for her. “But I have to kiss you first.”

  She didn’t pull back. Came to meet him halfway, in fact. And now he was able to do exactly what he’d imagined doing, so many times. To put a hand on either side of her head, pull her towards him, and brush that soft, wide mouth with his own. To feel her lips part with a sigh, to settle his mouth over hers to kiss her properly. To revel in the sensation of her arms coming around him, her fingers at his nape, stroking the sensitive skin there.

  He dropped one hand to her side, reached his arm around her waist, leaned a little further, and pulled her as close as he could in their awkward, constrained surroundings. Held her by the back of the neck with the other hand, and felt her excitement increase when he did it. Which only made him hotter. Heard her whimper as he licked his way over her lips, into her mouth, feasted on her, and thought he was going to explode. From a kiss.

  He sat back at last, his breath coming hard, so aroused he hurt. She stayed where she was, stared at him in the fading evening light, eyes wide.

  “Wow,” she said on an exhalation of breath. “You really know how to kiss.”

  He had to laugh a bit at that. “I’d say you did a pretty good job there too. What d’you reckon? Should we go a little further? Want to invite me in?”

  “No,” she sighed. “Kristen will be home. And . . . no.”

  “Right. That’s what I figured.” He opened his door, hopped out. Went around to the passenger side and opened hers, took her bag from her and gave her a hand out.

  “Hope this is OK,” he said with a smile. “Opening doors, I mean. I know you could do it yourself. But I like to do it for you.”

  “You can do it for me.” She was settling down, he saw. Feeling more comfortable again. Which was a good thing, he reminded himself sternly.

  He walked her to the door, gave her another kiss there that he’d meant to be a quick goodbye, not pressuring her. And somehow ended up with her sweet body pulled tight against him, and feeling so good there. Feeling even better than he’d imagined. Had her hanging onto his shoulders, kissing him with all the passion she showed for everything she did. Not holding anything back. Guaranteeing that he’d be having some dreams tonight.

  “Goodnight,” she sighed, reaching for her key and opening the door with fingers that, he saw, shook a little. And he didn’t think she was still cold.

  “Goodnight,” he said. “Till next time.”

  Bridal Fantasies

  Kristen took a final look at herself in one of the many mirrors set up in the crowded, makeshift dressing area through which excited half-dressed women rushed, attended by busy Lambert & Heath salespeople who buttoned, zipped, and tweaked.

  Everyone else was thrilled to be doing this, she could tell, so why wasn’t she? Maybe because they were going out there fully clothed. But it was for a good cause, she reminded herself, and it wasn’t a porno movie. Just a fashion show, and, like all fashion shows the world over, being attended by an overwhelmingly female audience, who were obviously thoroughly enjoying it.

  Her mind whispered that there were TV cameras out there too, but she pushed the thought aside. Because it was too late now. She’d had her chance to refuse, and she’d blown it.

  It had been a rare full staff meeting at the store that Friday in January when Anna, the Merchandising Manager, had taken the floor to discuss the b
enefit for the Care for Kids charity. The fashions would all be provided by Lambert & Heath, Anna had already explained, while the models would be a mixture of store employees and women from the community.

  “Thanks to all of you who have already volunteered,” she said. The store had been abuzz with the news for the past week, ever since the signup sheets had appeared. “And if you aren’t chosen as a model, be assured that there will be opportunities for everyone to participate. Those helping behind the scenes are equally important to this project’s success.”

  Well, that was good, because that was where Kristen planned to be. When the meeting had adjourned, however, Anna approached the row of chairs where Kristen was filing out, together with two of her colleagues.

  “Ladies,” Anna said. “I wanted to say thanks to Laura and Ashton for offering their help. I’ve got you girls down for sportswear.”

  “And Kristen,” she added, turning to her. “I didn’t see your name, but you’ll want to help out, of course.”

  “Well,” Kristen faltered, “I was planning to do what you said, help behind the scenes. I’m pretty good at dressing, and I’d be happy to do that.”

  “Oh, now,” Anna said playfully, “we’re not letting you off that easily, not when we have a resource like you. We don’t have anyone who’s right for the finale. Hard enough to manage the swimwear. Not everybody wants to show their jiggly bits, you know.”

  “I don’t want to either,” Kristen said. “I mean,” she went on, seeing Anna draw back with a frown, “I don’t really want to model, if that’s OK.”

  “You’re not trying to say that you have jiggly bits, are you?” Anna laughed. “Because we won’t believe it, eh, girls?”

  “No. We wouldn’t.” That was Ashton, her fellow assistant buyer, who’d never seemed to warm to Kristen despite her friendly overtures. “And we’re doing it, aren’t we. It may not be what you’re used to,” she told Kristen with patently false sincerity. “Nothing flash, just a wee fashion show down here in the Antipodes, but the rest of us are managing it.”

  “You’ve done it before, I’m thinking,” Laura, the Assistant Merchandising Manager, put in, her voice kinder. “And we are all doing it. Come on. It’ll be fun.”

  Kristen smiled at her gratefully. Maybe she was going to find a friend here after all. And maybe it would be fun, if they all did it together.

  “Well . . . “ she wavered. “If it’s nothing too risqué, I guess.”

  “Wonderful,” Anna said briskly. “And no worries. You’ll be beautiful, and perfect for it. You won’t even have to do a change, because you’ll only have one bit, and it’ll come at the end.”

  The final model appeared at the edge of the curtains now, and Anna nodded to Kristen, who had moved to stand in her starting position. Anna held up a hand, counted silently to five, finger by finger. Up went her pinkie, and she pointed at the stage. And Kristen went.

  “And finally . . . doesn’t everybody love a beautiful bride?” the announcer asked with a flourish. Applause rang out as she went on, describing the designer gown in loving detail.

  Kristen looked straight ahead, placed each high-heeled foot down with precision, and glided to the end of the runway. Since she was here, she’d do her best. She had done this before, it was a beautiful dress, and she looked good in it. It was hard not to get a little thrill from the attention, too, from knowing she was performing well. She got to the end of the raised platform, looked down and swept the crowd with her best smile as she pivoted. Showing her stuff.

  And that was when she saw them. Four big, solid figures, incongruous in the crowd of women, seated in the front row near the end of the runway in their sober suits, white dress shirts, and ties. Of course. It was a charity event in Wellington, and the Hurricanes were here.

  But not just any Hurricanes, because one of them was Liam.

  Liam saw the moment when she noticed him. He smiled back at her, and wondered why her own smile wobbled. Because she was absolutely gorgeous. Fully made up, the golden hair pulled straight back from her forehead and confined in a severe knot that only emphasized the perfection of her bone structure.

  And then there was the dress. An elegantly strapless, form-fitting ivory gown of some kind of textured material that followed her curves from the tops of her breasts to the strongly defined indentation of her waist, caressed the swell of her hips, then frothed out below her knees.

  Why hadn’t she told him she was doing this? Had she thought he’d think she was vain? She ought to know him better than that by now. She couldn’t help being beautiful, any more than she could stop breathing. Any more than he could stop looking at her.

  She turned once more, then walked away, her hips swaying, her smooth shoulders rising out of the white material. Even her back was gorgeous. The indentation of her spine, the curve of a shoulder blade, it was all . . . perfect.

  “Shit,” Teddy breathed next to him, and Liam couldn’t have agreed more.

  But Kristen didn’t leave the stage as all the other models had. She was taking another slow turn in the center now, and then, when she’d faced front again, reaching behind her, pulling down her zip, all the way to her bum. Her gaze far away as the gown fell to the floor and she stepped out of it, like a mermaid rising from the sea foam.

  “But what’s a wedding,” the announcer said now to the accompaniment of more murmuring, some laughter and applause, “without a wedding night? At Lambert & Heath, we know that the dress is only half the story. You’ll find a full range of the very finest bridal lingerie in all sizes, to make every bit of your wedding day truly memorable.”

  “Bloody hell,” Teddy said on an explosion of breath, and Liam wanted to jump up onto the stage and hustle Kristen straight off it. She was still doing her best, doing that model strut she’d first showed him in the shoe store when she’d tried on her motorcycle boots. But she’d been doing that because she was happy. And she’d been doing it for him.

  It wasn’t that he didn’t look. He couldn’t help it. The strapless lace corset with mesh inserts that were even sexier than seeing her bare skin, the garters that held up her stockings, the smooth perfection of her upper thighs, he had a good long look at all of it. And then she got to the end of the runway, straight above him. No smile for him this time, but he was close enough to see the bright dots of color on her cheeks, visible even through the heavy makeup. And, when she turned, her backside as well, thankfully covered, but not any too thoroughly. He had a good view of that, and so did everybody else here, and every TV camera too.

  “I’ll have that,” Teddy sighed. “Yes, please.” And it took every bit of Liam’s self-control not to grab him by the throat and choke the words straight out of him.

  Kristen hadn’t been sure he’d turn up. She’d arranged to meet him at the gym today, had wanted the comfort and release of climbing with him after what she’d suspected would be a stressful day. And she hadn’t known the half of it. She hadn’t dared to look at him when she’d walked down the runway for the second time, but she’d seen the rigidity of his posture out of the corner of her eye, and it didn’t take much imagination to guess what his reaction would have been.

  She’d taken her time changing into her climbing clothes, wiping off the heavy makeup. Delaying the moment when she’d have to see him again until, now, she was ten minutes late.

  She spotted him the moment she stepped inside the gym. Standing near the front desk, waiting for her, his expression hard and forbidding in a way she’d only seen, until now, on TV. On the rugby field. And suddenly, something shifted inside her, and she wasn’t dreading this. Suddenly, she was mad.

  “What?” she challenged, walking right up to him. “What’s wrong?”

  “You know what’s wrong,” he growled, and she quailed for a moment, then gathered her courage again.

  “It was for charity,” she told him, feeling the anger rise, drowning the embarrassment. “I didn’t want to do it, but I did it anyway. And you didn’t get up and excuse yours
elf because you didn’t want to see girls in their swimsuits, did you, when they did the beachwear? They were wearing a whole lot less than I was! You’re just upset that it was me. Well, every one of those women today was somebody’s daughter, you know. Not just me. Every one of them! And you didn’t mind looking at them. You didn’t mind that they were showing their bodies.”

  “That’s not it,” he protested.

  “Then what?” she challenged. Her voice was rising. She never yelled, but she was yelling now, a little bit, and she didn’t care. “And I don’t believe you anyway. It’s that you don’t want anyone to see me like that. Anybody but you. And that I haven’t even let you see me like that. You feel like everyone’s looking at what belongs to you. But I don’t,” she said, and there were tears in her eyes now. “I don’t belong to you. I belong to myself!”

  He’d lost the stone face, anyway, was just looking thoroughly upset as he reached for her arm. “Kristen. No. Let’s go outside.” He cast a look around the interested faces turned their way. “Come on,” he urged.

  She walked out with him, not wanting to do this part either, but knowing she had to. She was still trembling with anger and disappointment. Liam was just the same as everyone else after all, and that hurt.

  He seated himself on a low concrete wall at the edge of the wharf. “Come on,” he said again, indicating the spot beside him. “Sit down. Let’s talk.”

  She sat, because she didn’t know what else to do. Glanced at him once, then looked away.

  “It’s not just that,” he said after a moment. “Well, yeh, it’s partly that. I didn’t like everyone looking at you that way. Every man there thinking . . . what they were all thinking. I didn’t like that at all.”

  “Well, only the straight ones,” she couldn’t help pointing out. “Which cut it down a fair amount. It was a fashion show, Liam.”

  He smiled a bit at that, although she could tell the smile was offered reluctantly. “I didn’t like my teammates seeing it,” he admitted. “But that wasn’t all. It was that you did it at all. Because you can’t tell me you wanted to.”