by Kris Pearson
“Why did you kiss me like that at the cinema?” she blurted, horrified to hear her words aloud when she’d meant only to turn the question around in her mind.
He smiled very slightly. “I haven’t taken a pretty girl to the movies in ages.”
“That’s not an answer,” she pressed. Okay, she’d already put her foot in it—she might as well totally demolish herself. There was nothing left to lose now.
“Couldn’t resist you.”
She held his eyes with hers. “So why did you stop?” she asked less bravely.
She’d invented a dozen reasons. Because one kiss was all I wanted. Because I’d got you. Because you didn’t fight me off. Because of Lottie. Which would he choose?
“Because a crowded cinema’s not the right place for what I had in mind.”
Kate dropped her gaze. What an arrogant son-of-a-bitch he was. So sure of himself—and sure of her too, apparently.
She exhaled quietly, hoping to hide the tension that had made her hold her breath. “I felt what you had in mind. Much too hopeful of you, I thought.”
He snarled—laughing, deliberate—like a cartoon tiger. Then stood, placed his cup on the tray and left her alone in her room.
Far too slowly, her blood pressure subsided toward something near normal. Well, she’d be safe enough in the boutique with him. Annoyed maybe, but safe.
He could hardly make a play for her while piloting the plane.
And Milford Sound was such a tourist attraction there’d be hundreds of people there to prevent any dangerous privacy. Even though Lottie would be out of the picture, today shouldn’t be too perilous.
Kate swung her legs out of bed and stepped barefoot across the deep carpet to take a stinging, steaming shower. If only she could wash him off with soap...
What should she wear for trying on party gowns and flying over the Southern Alps? The raspberry leather jacket seemed suitable for flying. She teamed it with jeans, her new walking boots, and a cosy cream angora cardigan. Sharon had persuaded her to buy the matching scarf and ski-cap. She decided to take them in case it was cold in the small plane. It was certainly frosty outside, even though the sun now cast long hard shadows and brilliant slides of light over everything.
The delicious aroma of bacon floated toward her as she drew closer to the kitchen. She’d enjoyed her Danish and the strawberries, but the savoury tang still turned her taste-buds on. She claimed a couple of rashers from the grill tray and joined Matthew at the table, folding them into a slice of whole-wheat bread to make an impromptu sandwich.
Minutes later, they set off for Queenstown in the SUV—Matthew again driving slowly because of the slippery roads.
The ‘suitably expensive shop’ had some dazzling dresses, but nothing quite as wine-red and low-backed as Kate had imagined. She declined to try anything on.
But at the first hotel boutique they struck lucky. Matthew lifted a hanger off the rack with a jubilant laugh. A slim black dress. But with a slippery dark red facing across the fitted bodice that ran down to a waist-deep V at the back. And repeated around the hip-high slash in the skirt. Definitely a dress for a woman with high breasts, long legs and a smooth spine. Kate’s mouth watered.
He swooped it up over his other arm and presented it to her. She checked the size, inclined her head graciously, and disappeared into the changing room.
“When do we get to see it?” he called after a while.
“When I’m ready,” Kate grunted. She’d had to unlace the boots to get her jeans off, and the struggle was taking time.
A minute or two later she flipped the curtain aside and stepped out. Her striped socks didn’t help the total look, but the dress was perfection. It clung and hung in all the right places, totally decent, but leaving very little to the imagination.
Matthew rose from his chair and examined her closely.
She performed a slow turn for him. It was a dream of a dress—she knew she’d never find anything better. He reached out and ran a finger across her back, tweaking one of the slender straps that supported the bodice.
“You’ll have to take your bra off an hour or so before you put it on,” he said. “Nice back, Katie—but not with elastic marks across it.”
Was that the best he could manage? Was it even a compliment? She whirled around to face him, claws at the ready, searching for the perfect pithy reply. He grinned broadly, knowing he’d won that point.
Kate stilled. She took a deep breath, watching his silvery eyes as they settled on her breasts. She slid her long creamy thigh provocatively through the satin-edged slit of the skirt. His gaze followed. Kate laughed inwardly, twitched the skirt back into place and waltzed in triumph back to the fitting room. Gotcha.
“Bring your boots out here,” he called a little later. The curtain stopped a little shy of the floor—no doubt he’d seen her jeans were now on and the boots still off.
She pushed the fabric aside and lifted her hair up to free it from inside the jacket collar. “Why bring the boots out?”
“So I can do them up properly for you.” His eyes still roved over her hair.
Kate handed the dress to the sales assistant. “We’ll take it,” she said, flinching only slightly at the outrageous price.
Matthew rose from the chair and indicated she should sit. He knelt in front of her, legs parted. And set one of her feet firmly and precisely where his thighs joined. Kate caught her breath and tried to wriggle away.
“Mmmm,” he hummed. “Nice action, Katie.”
She stopped her wriggling. One striped sock and a layer of blue denim separated her from his warm and willing body—and it was becoming more willing by the moment. Horrified, she felt him slowly lengthening and hardening beneath her toes. And he held her foot right there as he leisurely loosened off her bootlaces with the fingers of his other hand.
He looked up at her and quirked an eyebrow as he finally slid her boot on and repositioned her foot again. At least the tough ridged sole was now between them. She resolutely locked her eyes on his until he looked down with a small chuckle and started to rethread the laces. Two could play at this, she decided.
The immaculately groomed sales assistant stood only feet away, folding the dress, making a great crackle with sheets of tissue paper on the countertop. It gave a whole new meaning to menage a trois, Kate thought, suppressing a giggle.
He finished his job and set her booted foot aside.
Kate gracefully lifted the other and positioned it as he had, adding a wriggle of her toes and a little nudge from her heel as though she was settling herself comfortably.
“Goodness, Matthew,” she said. “What a nuisance that must be for you.”
He compressed his lips, refusing to comment, but a snort of laughter soon rewarded her.
She had the measure of his game now. And the measure of more besides. Okay, he wanted to play. She wasn’t about to let him win again without a decent fight. She pressed a little harder, flexing her toes against him. He unlaced her other boot and then ran a finger caressingly under her arch as he inserted her foot. Kate jerked and caught her breath.
“I must see how to do this,” she said, once the sensation had lessened off a little. She leaned over, ostensibly to watch his fingers rethreading the laces. Her hair swung forward in a soft concealing cloud, brushing over his face, surrounding him in shadowed fragrance.
“Katie...” he growled.
“Am I making things difficult for you?” she asked with mock-innocence.
He turned his head, grabbed a mouthful, and tugged.
She gasped at the small sharp pain. “You’re a hurter, are you?” she whispered.
“Never.” He unclamped his teeth and released her. “But you’re deliberately winding me up.”
Kate leaned back in the chair and smiled as he finished lacing the second boot. “You think?” she teased. “No more than you deserve.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Kate’s spirits soared as high as the little plane. Matthew had help
ed her in, belted her up, made sure her headphones were comfortable, and then ignored her. He ran through his park-up checks with meticulous attention, called the controller, and received permission to start his engine and taxi to his holding point on the runway.
“Ready for departure.”
“Cleared for runway.”
Suddenly he clapped a big hand on her thigh, flashed a broad grin, and the engine note increased. They picked up speed, racing along through the clear morning air. Then he pulled back on the control column and they rushed up into the dark blue sky. Queenstown receded to the size of a town-planner’s model. Lake Wakatipu sparkled; the cableway looked tiny; the mountains became magnificent.
It was noisy but fascinating. She peered from side to side as they threaded their way past vicious drops and over snowy peaks. This was nothing like flying in a commercial airliner. They were close enough to see unexpected little lakes and tarns full of velvety green water, thousands of feet above sea level. The alpine vegetation became sparse. The up-thrust rocky crags were majestic as organ pipes.
Matthew drew her attention to some fleet-footed animals swarming up and over a sharp ridge—some sort of deer she presumed.
Through the headphones she heard, “Himalayan Tahr. We might see some Chamois, too.”
“How do they keep their balance?” she called back.
He grinned and shrugged.
For much of the journey they were the only people in the world—no visible farmhouses, no fences, no roads, no power pylons. She was astounded how empty and undeveloped the country was. Prehistoric. Truly the earth as it must have been when dinosaurs roamed the plains they’d left behind.
The winter sun glanced off the pristine snow below them. Sometimes it even felt possible to reach out and touch it as Matthew piloted them through passes and gullies, and the plane floated past jagged snow-dusted rock-faces.
The engine note changed and she looked across at him with alarm. He smiled and shook his head. Tipped a hand down to let her know he was starting his descent. She nodded and relaxed.
They droned ever lower, below the tops of the mountains down to dense green forest that lay like a huge crumpled quilt over the primeval land.
A veil of cloud sped by, sunlight winking through it. He pointed across to the end of the valley and Kate recognized the scene every Kiwi calendar featured, sooner or later. Mitre Peak—so triangular and tall that wispy clouds passed by less than half way to the summit.
The icy dark water of Milford Sound sparkled with a trail of sunshine. The airfield was close now. A surprising number of other small planes and helicopters had already landed. And a collection of coaches were parked near the famous hotel.
Matthew set down with a gentle bump, taxied off the runway and rolled to a stop.
Within minutes, Kate found herself boarding a boat named Water Nymph. Not one of the big tourist craft...this was a nicely appointed pleasure cruiser belonging to a tanned and bearded friend of Matthew’s. She could hardly refuse—he’d apparently arranged yet another treat for her, and now he’d neatly separated her from the crowds. She drew a deep breath, clenched her jaw, and managed a tight smile of appreciation.
Bob of the beard waved cheerily as Matthew piloted the boat out. “Lunch in the fridge,” Bob shouted over the increasing gap. “Don’t drink it all at once.”
They burbled out onto the huge fiord. The surrounding mountains rose straight from the water, for these were old drowned valleys carved during the Ice Age. Waterfalls plunged a thousand metres or more down the sheer sides.
Kate sat outside, marvelling at the scenery. The frisky breeze tugged at her hair, so she twisted it up and pulled the knitted angora cap over it. She’d expected to be part of the tourist throng at the hotel or on one of the big boats, but Matthew had thwarted that scenario with ease and left any signs of civilisation far behind. They were soon hundreds of yards from shore and quite alone. He cut the engine, and they drifted. The only sounds were water sucking and lapping at the boat’s sides, the muted roar of distant waterfalls, and occasional calls from birds.
He settled into the seat beside her, unzipping the jacket he’d added over his sweatshirt. The breeze was less chilly now they were still. “You don’t need this on any longer,” he said, pulling her cap off so her hair cascaded loose.
She drew a sharp breath. He was far too close again. Now she regretted her game with him in the boutique.
She leaned away and stood, but the rocking of the boat made balancing difficult. She stumbled—and grabbed his shoulder for support. His arms snaked around her waist in an instant, yanking her to stand between his knees. He slid forward and trapped her with his thighs.
“Kiss me,” he said, tilting his head back at her.
She stared down, horrified, at his handsome demanding face.
“No, Matthew. Sorry.”
“Kiss me,” he repeated. “Bend over so your hair falls all around me again.”
“No,” she exclaimed, trying to twist away. “I don’t steal other people’s husbands.”
“However much you might be attracted to them?”
Oh hell. She made a supreme attempt to keep her gaze locked with his. “However much.”
“So you are?”
“You’re very nice,” she said carefully.
He gave a snort of amusement. “You’re thinking more than nice. We’d be fantastic.”
“Perhaps.”
“You know we would, Katie. We’ve been fencing around each other for two long frustrating days. Kiss me.”
“I’ll be gone on Sunday,” she tried, attempting again to escape, and knowing she really wanted him to hang on tight and make the decision for her.
“I’ve waited long enough.”
“You might feel like that, but maybe I don’t? And I told you—I don’t steal other people’s husbands.”
“Very laudable of you, but I’m no-one’s husband any longer. Whose do you think I am?”
She had no way of avoiding the topic now. “You’re Lottie’s of course.”
Her world stood still as he slowly shook his head.
“But...” She snatched a quick breath. “Charlotte McLeod... Matthew McLeod...” the same names, living in the same home. You’re—”
“Her half-brother. Same father.”
She stayed poised above him, brain rapidly re-running the data. Her suspicions were now confirmed. But did that make things better or worse? Awash with longing and relief, she stared down at his infuriating triumphant face. “Why didn’t you tell me that?” she demanded.
“Didn’t occur to me. You knew she slept upstairs.”
“No I didn’t. I knew there was a bedroom there. Maybe for when she painted late. That’s all I knew.”
He shrugged. “Did you ever see me treat her as a wife? Did I ever kiss her like a husband would?”
Their chaste embrace in the hospital flooded back into her memory. A pat on the shoulder. A peck on the forehead. Now it was Kate’s turn to shrug. “Why didn’t you just say at the airport, ‘Hello, I’m Matthew, Lottie’s brother’?”
He gazed at her with a thunderous expression. “Jeez Kate, maybe because I was totally thrown. She really hurt herself in that accident. Blood all down her face.” He shook his head sharply, perhaps to banish the scene from his brain. “She couldn’t walk. And I had to get her to hospital somehow, worrying about how bad the bang on her head was. Not to mention suddenly finding I had to entertain you as well. I’m sorry. It probably didn’t occur to me.”
She relented slightly. “You’re very kind to her.”
“She is my much loved sister, Katie. My wife is long gone. Did you really think I’d make a play for you if I already had a woman in the house?” His eyes held hers—magnetic, serious.
Kate bit her lip, willing her thumping heart to calm down. He’d become everything she wanted, and everything she’d tried to steer clear of. “Some men might?” she said, realising she’d offended him.
“That’s qui
te an opinion you have of me.” His eyes now flashed with undisguised annoyance. “You really thought that?”
“Some men wouldn’t be so scrupulous.”
“I’m not among them. So kiss me.”
Oh God, she wanted to so much. Wanted to do a lot more than just kiss him. But the job? Their living arrangements? Surely kissing him again would throw everything into turmoil?
“No,” she said, bending a little lower so her hair slipped past her shoulders and started to curtain him. She shook her head. The soft dark wings brushed his hard-planed face. He waited.
“No,” she repeated softly, as she lowered herself enough to feel his breath feathering over her.
“Yes,” he whispered, threading his hands into her hair and tugging her the tiny remaining distance.
The moment Kate’s lips touched his, her fragile resolve evaporated. She followed his lead as he nipped and licked in a long, slow, delicious exploration. Matthew gathered her closer and closer until she finally lost her balance, fell on top of him, and they broke apart, laughing.
“God, the things I want to do with you,” he said, pulling her onto his lap with surprising ease. “But probably not out here with hundreds of tourists training their binoculars on us.”
He cupped her face in his palm, and stroked his thumb gently over her cheek.
“They’re a long way away yet,” she said, exploring his face in return. Her fingers traced the edges of his mouth, and he closed his silver-blue eyes. Kate laid her lips on his again and they sank into another long, dizzying kiss, arms sliding around each other until they pressed tightly together.
She breathed him in. Cologne and clean cotton. Spices and honey. Heat and temptation. Tasting like heaven.
So big and strong that for the first time ever she felt almost petite.
Time slipped by until the wake from one of the big tourist boats reached them, setting them bobbing and sloshing, and making them draw apart with surprise.