Summer Fling

by Serenity Woods

  Chloe seemed to understand, though. She put her hand over her mouth and stared at him with horror-filled eyes. “Oh, Garth. What happened?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “I escaped,” he said simply. “I promised one of the guards that I could get huge amounts of money if he’d take me to the border. I lied of course, but he smuggled me out, and when we got there, I attacked him and his mate in the car, beat them senseless, threw them out, and drove off. It’s a long, rather dull story. It took weeks to get to a friendly town and months to get back to New Zealand. But I did, eventually, and now I’m here I don’t ever want to leave.”

  He studied his fingernails, unable to look up at her. “I’m not proud of what I’ve become, Chloe. A man so full of fear and hatred that I have to sleep looking up at the stars or else my chest tightens and I can’t breathe. I’m so caught up in my past that I can’t move on—in spite of the fact that I tell myself I want to forget. I wish I could tell you stories about my bravery and all the heroic things I did to stand up to my captors, but I can’t, because all I thought about was escaping.” Disgust at himself rose in his throat, choking him until he could barely speak. “You’re better off keeping well away from me. I’m just a coward.” He touched his face, ashamed and embarrassed to find it wet.

  Chloe shifted beside him, and for a moment he thought she was going to get to her feet and run as far away from him as she could. But all she did was curl her legs beneath her to give herself height and then lean across him to turn his face toward her, the same way he’d done to hers on the plane.

  “Don’t say that,” she said fiercely. “How can you say you’re a coward? You’ve been through one of the most horrifying things a man can undergo—torture, for Christ’s sake. You did what any man would do in your position—anything you damn well needed to stay alive. You think there are better, braver men out there than you? You think other men would have kept their wits about them enough to bribe a guard and escape?”

  He lifted his chin away from her hand. “I did it because I was scared, not brave.”

  “Garth, the definition of courage isn’t doing something without being scared. It’s doing it in spite of being scared.”

  “I ran away,” he said hoarsely. “I wasn’t the only journalist in the prison. I tried to get the guard to set them free too. But there wasn’t time. I should have stayed, waited to try again, but I couldn’t bear to pass up the chance to be free. I left them behind.”

  She turned his face toward her again and wiped his cheek with her thumb. Her eyes burned a fierce, bright blue. “I don’t know you very well. And I’m no psychologist. But it would seem to me that you’ve been through an extremely traumatic experience. You lived with the prospect of death hanging over your head every day for... how long?”

  “521 days.”

  “Jeez, for over a year and a half. An experience like that must raise questions in your mind of why you’re here. What’s your purpose; why did God—or whomever else you think is in charge—decide to let you live?”

  He said nothing. Those questions arose in his mind every night like driftwood in the sea.

  “Returning to real life would have been like returning from fighting in a war. Everyone else stresses over promotions and overdrafts and mortgages, and you rise every morning and think oh my God, I’m alive. Everything else must seem so...mundane.”

  He met her eyes. “How did you know?”

  “Because I can imagine, and I’ve listened, too, to what you’ve told me, about how jumping out of a plane reminds you that you’re alive. Most of the time you must feel numb, because it would be hard to convince yourself that anything matters after what you’ve been through. But jumping out of planes, being outside, feeling the sun on your face, must feel real.”

  He studied her heart-shaped face, the compassion in her eyes. “Yes. That’s exactly it.”

  Chloe nodded. “How frustrating for you. How did your father react when you were taken prisoner? What happened when you came out?”

  “I discovered he’d died three months before I escaped.”

  “Oh, that must have been difficult for you.”

  He shrugged. “Apparently he did everything he could to set me free. Bribed officials, phoned the White House, flew out there himself to talk to people, but nothing worked. Jake and Ian said it killed him.”

  “God, Garth, I’m sorry.”

  He gave a long, heartfelt sigh. “It all feels kind of fake, you know? Before they captured me, we hardly spoke. I’ve seen his pleas on TV since, and listened to Jake and Ian tell me how much he did, but I can’t quite believe it.”

  “That’s perfectly understandable.” She took his hand, turned it over in her own, and stroked his palm with her thumb.

  “I thought he’d have cut me out of the will, but he left me a fortune. I guess he hoped I’d get out eventually. I’ve hardly touched any of it though. I can’t bring myself to spend it.”

  “That’s not surprising. You’ll get better. You just need time to heal.”

  He swallowed. She was being so nice. He owed it to her to tell her the whole truth. “There’s something else.”

  She pulled back a little, but she didn’t let go of his hand. “Okay.”

  He met her gaze. “I was married.”

  He’d expected her to exclaim, to jump up in shock, but instead she just surveyed him calmly. “I’m not surprised you were snapped up.” She smiled. “Can you tell me about her?”

  “Jess came from New Zealand. I met her on holiday and moved out here with her.”

  “She must have been frantic when you were captured.”

  He couldn’t stop his lips twisting at that. “Not quite, no. You see, when I finally got back, I found out she was seeing someone else.”

  Chloe stared at him. “You’re kidding me? She knew you’d been taken prisoner, right?”

  “Yep.”

  “But that’s…” Pity filled her eyes. “That’s awful.” Her eyes widened as realization dawned. “Oh God, the man she had an affair with. It was Nick Stewart, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did he know about you? That her husband had been captured?”

  “Yes.”

  “Fucking hell, that’s terrible.”

  “That’s not the worst of it.” He clenched his fists. “I thought about her continually while in that place. Before I went away, we’d had a few problems, and I decided when I returned I was going to make the marriage work. But she refused to even try. She moved out of the house and in with Stewart. And then, one night, he was driving them home from a party and he crashed the car.”

  Tears shone in Chloe’s eyes. “What happened?”

  “She died.”

  “Oh, Garth.” She bit her lip. “Was Nick drunk?”

  “Apparently not. The Police interviewed him for hours, but let him go eventually. They said it was just an accident.”

  “But you don’t believe that.”

  He studied her hand where it still lay on his own. He couldn’t tell her about the investigation he’d had carried out on Stewart because he couldn’t bear her to know just how screwed up he really was. But he knew that Stewart had an uncle on the local Police force. He couldn’t be certain, but he suspected the breath test Nick had undergone on the night had been altered to make it negative.

  They sat quietly for a while. He let her process the news. Calm descended on him now he’d got it all out in the open, as if he’d opened a door in his soul and let all the raging emotions fly free.

  Chloe frowned. “How come Nick didn’t recognize you though? Why didn’t he know your name?”

  “We never met before Jess died. And afterward…” He hesitated. Should he tell her? He might as well, after confiding nearly everything else. “I changed my name. I couldn’t bear all the media attention. I just wanted to escape. So I took my middle name and my mother’s maiden name. I wanted to be someone different. I’ve tried to move on. But it’s not been easy.”

 
; “Why do you live here, when you could bump into Nick at any time? Why not move to the south island, or back to the States?”

  He couldn’t tell her the real reason—that he wanted to see the look on Nick’s face when he eventually broke him. He didn’t want her to know about his desire for revenge, and what a small person he was. “I love it up here. I moved to the bay after she died—we lived in Kaitaia before I went away. I didn’t actually realize he lived so close.”

  She seemed to accept that. “What’s your real name?”

  “Rick Taylor.” The words stuck in his mouth like toffee. It sounded strange, as if he was talking about someone else.

  He put his other hand on hers where it still lay across his fingers. “I hope you don’t feel I lied to you by not telling you everything immediately. Being captured—it changed me, made me cautious and untrusting. I wasn’t like that before. I’m not Rick Taylor anymore. I am Garth Rowland now.”

  “I understand. I know what the media’s like.” She squeezed his fingers. “I’m so sorry you’ve been through so much. I can’t imagine how hard it’s been.”

  “It means a lot that you even say that, Chloe. By the way, nobody knows except Mat.”

  “It’s okay. I won’t tell.”

  Her eyes had seemed to darken as the light faded and they now appeared the color of the night sky, a deep and vibrant blue. He’d handed her his heart on a plate. What was she going to do with it?

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chloe studied the face of the brave man before her, her heart going out to him. Part of her felt sad that he’d loved someone else so deeply, but she forced herself to push away that selfish thought. He’d lost his wife, probably long before she actually died. He looked exhausted now, emotionally wrung out, and she yearned to comfort him, to give him solace.

  She glanced up at the Milky Way splashed across the sky as if someone had dropped a huge bucket of stars and spilled them across the inky blackness.

  “Orion’s bright tonight,” he said.

  “I don’t know much about astronomy. Always wish I did, though. Tell me about him.”

  He moved closer to her, leaning against her shoulder as he pointed out the constellation. “He was a hunter in Greek mythology. The most prominent stars are in his belt there.” He indicated the three stars in a line. “He’s upside down here, in the southern hemisphere. That star at the top left, which actually marks his left foot if you imagine him facing you, is called Rigel. It’s the sixth brightest star in the night sky.” He smiled. “Orion’s the name of my dog.”

  “Where is he?”

  “A friend’s looking after him. He doesn’t like crowds.”

  “Like you,” she said.

  He gave a short laugh. “Yeah.”

  “I understand why you like looking at the stars. They make you feel free, don’t they? As if you’re one of them, out there in the galaxy, floating, limitless.” She glanced at him, surprised to see him watching her. “What?”

  He shook his head. And then, before she could say anything else, he slipped his hand to the nape of her neck and kissed her.

  She turned to him and returned it hungrily, wanting to comfort him, desperate for the press of his lips against hers. Why did she want this man so much? He was damaged goods—she should run a mile. But she threaded her hands into his hair, kept him still so she could kiss him thoroughly and show him how much she desired him.

  When she eventually drew back, she tried to ignore the angel that stood with hands on hips, saying, I thought you said you weren’t going to fall into bed with the first man you met?

  I’ve met lots of men, she told the angel firmly. He’s not the first, just the best.

  And anyway, shut up.

  She took a deep breath and gathered her courage. “Do you want to join me in my tent?” She stroked his cheek. “I’m certain Stella will be staying with Alex tonight.”

  He met her gaze. “Are you offering me pity sex?”

  Oops. Had she insulted him? “Oh. Um. Of course not.”

  “Only I was going to say that if that’s the case, no worries and the answer’s yes.”

  She giggled and kissed him again.

  “I have to be honest though,” he said, “I’m not great in tents. Too confined.”

  “It faces the sea. We’ll leave the flap open so we can see the stars. And I’ll be with you. I’ll see what I can do to distract you.” She’d never been great at seduction. Time to give it a try.

  She gave him her best wicked smile. “Don’t you want to see what’s under my bikini?” Encouraged by the sudden intensity of his gaze, she brushed his lips with hers, then caught his bottom lip between her teeth and grazed it gently. “Don’t you want to take my breasts in your hands, my nipples in your mouth...?”

  “All right, you talked me into it.” He stood and pulled her up with him.

  Laughing, she followed him along the sand, casting a quick look back at the house. Nobody was watching them. And even if they were, what did it matter? They were both single, consenting adults. They weren’t hurting anyone.

  They reached her and Stella’s small tent, facing the sea, and she unzipped the doorway and tied back the flaps so they could see the water and the sky from inside. The moon hung low, casting a gentle light over the view. She crawled into the tent after him and could just see him outlined in faint silver, his eyes glittering.

  “Oh.” She bit her lip. “I just thought. I don’t have any condoms.”

  He stared at her and then retrieved a wallet from his pocket. “I think I have one in here, although it’s probably a priceless artifact by now.” He found it and said triumphantly, “Yes!”

  Giggling again, she moved the two thin mattresses together and lay on the front one. He curled around behind her so they were facing the view and pulled her back against him, his arm tight around her waist. He was so much bigger than her, all height and breadth and muscle, so ruggedly male she shivered with desire.

  She looked over her shoulder. He was gazing out at the sea but glanced down as she said, “Are you okay?”

  He smiled slowly. “I’m more than okay.” He nuzzled her neck. “You smell like heaven. Chocolate and sun cream and salt.”

  She stretched out with a contented sigh, tipping her head to the side as he touched his tongue to her skin and kissed up her neck. He spoke the truth—this must be heaven, she thought, with the crash of the waves in the air and the tang of salt on her lips. The angel in her head jumped up and down, trying to get her attention, but the devil put his hand over her mouth and dragged her away.

  Chloe sighed again, with relief this time. She wanted Garth so badly. To hell with the future. This didn’t mean she was turning into her mother—she hadn’t declared her love or said this relationship would last for eternity. Her body yearned for him, hungered for his touch. Why did it have to be about anything more than pleasure?

  He stroked up her thigh and slipped his hand under her cotton dress, and she sat and drew it up her body. He helped her, lifted it over her head, and discarded it to one side. Then he grasped his T-shirt by the back of the neck and tugged it off. She lay down, and he pulled her against him again, his chest warm against her back.

  He traced his fingers over the skin of her bare stomach, and she shivered deliciously. Kissing her neck and ear, he murmured something about how soft she was, then took the lobe into his mouth and sucked it. He continued to draw patterns on her skin for ages, and by the time he finally moved farther up her ribcage, she ached for a more intimate touch, arching against him to push her breasts into his hand.

  He cupped one, weighed it in his palm, and stroked his thumb over her nipple. She moaned, and he sighed.

  “I need to see you,” he whispered. “Is that okay?”

  “Yes. God, yes.”

  Taking one of the ties of her bikini top, he tugged it undone, then released the clip at the back to remove the top. He shifted so she could roll onto her back. Heat flooded through her at the raw desire in hi
s eyes. Her nipples swelled, begging for him to taste them, and he covered one of them with his hot mouth. She clenched a hand in his hair, and closed her eyes and exclaimed as her nipple tightened to a firm bud under his tongue. He did the same to the other one, and she began to feel as if she were floating on the sea, buoyed by desire and need and want.

  He ran a finger from her hipbone across her stomach, above her bikini bottoms, then sat back and gave them a tug. She slipped them down her legs and discarded them. Her heart pounded, but he looked at her so appreciatively she felt no self-consciousness, only warmth as she stretched out, naked under his heated stare.

  “You’re so beautiful.” He kissed her, stroked her from thigh to hips, then brushed across the top of her pubic hair, his big hand cupping her mound. He slid his fingers down into her sensitive skin, and the way they glided through her soft folds told her she was already slippery with desire.

  He groaned and lifted himself up to look at her. “Can I taste you?”

  Her cheeks warmed, and she nibbled her bottom lip. “If…if you want to. But you don’t have to…I don’t expect…”

  His lips curved, and he lowered his head to brush them across hers, his fingers continuing their slow, relentless arousal of her. “Chloe Jackson, I can think of nothing more erotic than sliding my tongue into you and giving you pleasure. I’ve thought about it since the moment I met you, imagining what you taste like, what noises you make when you come.”

  “Garth!” She whacked him on the arm, cheeks flaming.

  “What?” He chuckled and kissed her hot skin. “I love that you blush so much around me.”

  “You like embarrassing me don’t you?”

  “Yep.” He stroked her, his eyes taunting, hot.