by Trish Morey
He sighed as he packed up his laptop. He’d got precious little done, not that he’d expected to, with a child running riot. Only this one he’d barely seen and still he’d got nothing done.
Maybe because he couldn’t stop thinking about her.
What was it about the woman that needled him so much? She was so passionate and wild in bed, like a tigress waiting to be unleashed, waiting for him to let her off the chain. Wasn’t that enough? Why couldn’t she just leave it at that? Why did she have to needle him and needle him and lever lids off things that had been welded shut for a reason? All her pointless questions.
All working away under his skin. And why did she even care?
Two days. Three nights. So maybe extending his time in her presence wasn’t his preferred option, but he could survive being around Evelyn that long, surely. After all, he’d had mistresses who’d lasted a month or two before he’d lost interest or moved cities. Seriously, what could possibly happen in just a weekend?
Hopefully more great sex. A sound sleep would do wonders to improve her mood, and a tropical island sunset would soon have her feeling romantic and back in his arms. Nothing surer.
And in a few short days he’d have the deal tied up and Evelyn and child safely delivered home again.
Easy.
‘Mr Zamos,’ the cabin attendant said, refreshing his water, ‘the captain said to tell you we’ll be landing in half an hour. Would you like me to let Ms Carmichael know?’
He looked at his watch, rubbed his brow, calculating how long she’d slept. If his theory was right, her mood should be very much improved already. ‘Thank you,’ he said, ‘but I’ll do it.’
There was no answer to his soft knock, so he turned the handle, cracked open the door. ‘Evelyn?’
Light slanted into the darkened room and as his eyes adjusted he could make her out in the bed, her caramel hair tumbling over the pillow, her face turned away, her arm protectively resting over her child’s belly.
Mother and child.
And he felt such a surge of feeling inside him, such a tangle of twisted emotions, that for a moment the noise of that blast blotted everything else out, and there was nothing else for it but to close his eyes and endure the rush of pain and disgust and anger as it ripped through him.
And when he could breathe again, he opened his eyes to see another pair of dark eyes blinking up at him from the bed. Across the sleeping woman, the pair considered each other, Leo totally ill equipped to deal with the situation. In the end it was Sam who took the initiative. He pulled his teddy from his arms and offered him to Leo. ‘Bear.’
He looked blankly at the child and immediately Sam rolled over, taking his toy with him, then promptly rolled back and held his bear out to Leo again. ‘Bear.’
And Leo felt—he didn’t know how he felt. He didn’t know what was expected of him. He was still reeling from the explosion of emotions that had rocked through him to know how to react to this.
‘Bear!’
‘Mmm, what’s that, Sam?’ Eve said drowsily, and she looked around and saw Leo. ‘Oh.’ She pushed herself up, ran a hand over her hair. ‘Have I overslept?’
Her cheek was red where it had lain against the pillow, her hair was mussed and there was a smudge of mascara under one eye, but yet none of that detracted from her fundamental beauty. And he felt an insane surge of masculine pride that he was the one responsible for her exhaustion. And a not-so-insane surge of lust in anticipation of a repeat performance in his near future.
‘We’ll be landing soon. You don’t want to miss the view as we come in. It’s pretty spectacular, they tell me.’
It was spectacular, Eve discovered after she’d freshened herelf up and changed Sam before joining Leo back in the cabin. The sea was the most amazing blue, and she could make out in the distance some of the islands that made up the Whitsunday group. From here they looked like jewels in the sea, all lush green slopes and white sand surrounded by water containing every shade of blue. The sun was starting to go down, blazing fire, washing everything in a golden hue.
‘That’s Hamilton Island,’ he said, indicating a larger island as they circled the group for their approach. ‘That’s where we’ll land before transferring to the helicopter for Mina Island.’
‘It’s beautiful,’ she said, pointing over Sam’s shoulder. ‘Look, Sam, that’s where we’re going for a holiday.’ Sam burst into song and pumped his arms up and down.
It did look idyllic, she thought. Maybe a couple of days relaxing on a tropical island wouldn’t be such a hardship. She glanced over at the man beside her, felt the familiar sizzle in her veins she now associated with him and only him, and knew she was fooling herself.
With Leo around things were bound to get complicated. They always did.
Which meant she just had to establish a few ground rules first.
CHAPTER NINE
‘I ’M NOT sleeping with you.’
They’d landed on Hamilton Island and made the helicopter transfer to Mina without incident, arriving to be greeted by Eric just as the sun was dipping into the water in a glorious blaze of gold. Eric had laughed, secretly delighted she could tell, when they’d all stood and watched the spectacle, telling them they’d soon get used to ‘that old thing’, before dropping them off at their beachside bure to freshen up before dinner.
And now, after a tour of the timber and glass five-star bungalow, their eyes met over the king-sized bed. The only bed, aside from the cot set up for Sam in the generous adjoining dressing room.
She wasn’t about to change her mind. ‘You’ll just have to find yourself somewhere else to sleep.’
‘Come on, Evelyn,’ he said, sitting down on the bed and slipping off his shoes, peeling off his socks, ‘don’t you think you’re being just a little melodramatic? It’s not like we haven’t slept together before.’
‘That was different.’
He looked over his shoulder at her, one eyebrow raised. ‘Was it?’
Her arms flapped uselessly at her sides. From outside she could hear Sam laughing as Hannah, the young woman who had been sent to be his babysitter, fed him his dinner. At least that part of the arrangements seemed to be going well.
‘I’m not sharing a bed with you,’ she said. ‘And I certainly don’t have to sleep with you just because we happen to be caught in the same lie.’
He stood, reefing his shirt from his pants as he started undoing the buttons at his cuffs. ‘No? Even though you know we’re good together?’
She blinked. ‘What are you doing?’
He shrugged. ‘Taking a shower before dinner,’ he said innocently enough, although she saw the gleam in his eyes. ‘Care to join me?’
‘No!’
But she couldn’t resist watching his hands moving over the buttons, feeling for them, pushing them through the holes. Clever hands. Long-fingered hands. And as he tweaked the buttons she was reminded of the clever way he’d tweaked her nipples and worked other magic… She looked away. Looked back again. ‘There’s no point. No point to any of it.’
‘It’s only sex,’ he said, finishing off the rest of the buttons before peeling off his shirt. ‘It’s not like we haven’t already done it—several times. And I know for a fact you enjoyed it. I really don’t know why you’re making out like it’s some kind of ordeal.’
‘It was supposed to be for just one night,’ she said, trying and failing not to be distracted by his broad chest and that line of dark hair heading south. ‘A one-night stand. No strings attached.’
‘So we make it a four-night stand. And I sure as hell don’t see any strings.’
She dragged her recalcitrant eyes north again, wondering how he could so easily consider making love to a person like they had for not one but four nights, and not want to feel some kind of affection for the other party. But, then, he had a head start on her. He had a heart of stone. ‘It was nice, sure. But that doesn’t mean we have to have any repeat performances.’
‘There’s th
at word again.’ His hands dropped to the waistband of his pants, stilled there. ‘“Nice”. Tell me, if you scream like that for nice, what do you do for mind-blowing? Shatter windows?’
She felt heat flood her face, totally mortified at being reminded of her other wanton self, especially now when she was trying to make like she could live without such sex. ‘Okay, so it was better than nice. So what? It’s not as if we even like each other.’
‘And that matters because…?’
She spun away, reduced to feeling like some random object rather than a woman with feelings and needs of her own, and crossed to the wall of windows that looked out through palm trees to the bay beyond. It was moonlit now, the moon dusting the swaying palm leaves with silver and laying a silvery trail across the water to the shore, where tiny waves rippled in, luminescent as they kissed the beach. It was beautiful, the air balmy and still, and she wished she could enjoy it. But right now she was having trouble getting past the knowledge that she’d spent an entire night, had bared herself, body and soul, to a man who treated sex as some kind of birthright.
And if it wasn’t bad enough that he’d not so subtly pointed out she’d been vocally enthusiastic, now he’d as much as agreed that he didn’t even like her. Lovely.
And that was supposed to make her happier about sleeping with him?
Fat chance.
She felt his hands land on her shoulders, his long fingers stroking her arms, felt his warm breath fan her hair. ‘You are a beautiful woman, Evelyn. You are beautiful and sexy and built for unspeakable pleasure. And you know it. So why do you deny yourself that which you so clearly desire?’
Self-preservation, she thought, as his velvet-coated words warmed her in places she didn’t want warmed and stroked an ego that wanted to be liked and maybe, maybe even more than that.
‘I can’t,’ she said. Not without losing myself in a place I don’t want to be. Not without risking falling in love with a man who has no heart. ‘Please, just believe me, I’ll pretend to be your fiancée, I’ll pretend to be your lover. But, please, don’t expect me to sleep with you.’
The big house, as the Culshaws referred to it, was exactly that. Not flashy, but all spacious tropical elegance, the architecture, like that of the bures, styled to bring the outside in with lots of timber and glass and sliding walls. Outside, on an expansive deck overlooking the bay and the islands silhouetted against the sky, a table had been beautifully laid, but it was the night sky that captured everyone’s attention.
‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many stars,’ Eve confessed, dazzled by the display as they sat down for the meal. ‘It’s just magical.’
Eric laughed. ‘We think so. This island takes its name from one of them but don’t ask me to point out which one.’
Maureen continued, ‘When we first came here for a holiday about thirty years ago, we got home to Melbourne and wanted to turn right back round again. We’ve been coming here every year since. Hasn’t been used much lately, not since—’
Eric cut in, saving her from finishing. ‘Well, it’s good to have guests here again, that’s for sure. So I’d like to propose a toast. To guests and good friends and good times,’ he said, and they all raised their glasses for the toast.
‘Now,’ Eric said, from alongside Leo, ‘how’s that young man of yours settling in?’
‘He’s in his element,’ Eve replied. ‘Two of his favourite things are fish and boats. He can’t believe his good fortune.’
‘Excellent. And the babysitter’s to your satisfaction? Did she tell you she’s hoping to study child care next year?’
‘Hannah seems wonderful, thank you.’
Maureen distracted her on the other side, patting her on the hand. ‘Oh, that reminds me, I’ve booked the spa,’ she started.
But Eve didn’t hear the rest, not when she heard Eric ask Leo, ‘How old did you say Sam was again?’
She froze, her focus on the man beside her and how he replied to the question, the man stumbling with an answer, seemingly unable to remember the age of his own supposed child.
‘Ah, remind me again, Eve?’ he said at last. ‘Is Sam two yet?’ Eve excused herself and smiled, forcing a laugh.
‘You go away much too much if you think Sam’s already had his birthday. He’s eighteen months old. How could you possibly forget?’
Leo snorted and said, ‘I never remember this milestone stuff. It’s lucky Evelyn does,’ which earned agreement from Eric at least.
‘It must be hard on you, though, Evelyn, with Leo always on the move,’ Maureen said. Eve wanted to hug the woman for moving the conversation along, although a moment later she wished she’d opted for a complete change of topic. ‘Do you have family nearby who help out?’
She smiled softly, looking up at the stars for just a moment, wondering where they were amidst the vast array. Her grandfather had held her hand and taken her outside on starry nights when she hadn’t been able to stop crying and had told her they were up there somewhere, shining brightly, keeping her grandmother company. And now her grandfather was there too. She blinked. ‘I have a wonderful neighbour who helps out. My parents died when I was ten and—I hate to admit it—I don’t remember terribly much about them. I lived with my grandfather after that.’
‘Oh-h-h,’ said Felicity. ‘They never got to meet Sam.’
‘No, and I know they would have loved him.’ She took a breath. ‘Oh, I’m sorry for sounding so maudlin on such a beautiful night. Maybe we should change the topic, talk about something more cheerful.’
‘I know,’ said Eric jovially. ‘So when’s the happy day, you two?’
Eve wanted to groan, until she felt Leo’s arm around her shoulders and met his dazzling smile. ‘Just as soon as I can convince her she can’t live without me a moment longer.’
Somehow they made it through the rest of the evening without further embarrassment but it was still a relief to get back to their bure. The long day had taken its toll, the stress of constantly fearing they would be caught out weighing heavily on Eve, and even though she’d slept on the plane, she couldn’t wait to crawl into bed. Her bed, because after their earlier discussion, Leo had offered to sleep on the sofa. Hannah was sitting on it now, watching music television on low. She stood and clicked the remote off as they came in.
‘How was Sam?’ Eve asked, looking critically at the sofa, frowning at its length. Or lack of it. How the hell did Leo think he was going to fit on that?
‘Sam’s brilliant. I let him stay up half an hour longer, like you suggested, and he went down easy as. I checked him the last time about five minutes ago, and he hadn’t stirred. I don’t think I’ve ever looked after such a good baby.’
Eve smiled, relieved. ‘Lucky you didn’t meet him last week when he was teething—you might have had a different opinion.’ She opened her purse to find some notes and Hannah waved her away. ‘No. It’s all taken care of. It’s my job to look after Sam while you’re here.’ She headed for the door, gave a cheery wave. ‘I’ll see you in the morning, then.’
Eve met Leo coming out of the bedroom with an armful of pillows and linen. ‘Goodnight,’ he said, heading for the sofa maybe a little too stoically.
She watched him drop it all on the sofa, measured the height and breadth of man against length and width of sofa and realised it was never going to work. It should be her sleeping on the sofa. Except Sam’s room was beyond the bedroom and it would be foolhardy if not impossible to move him now.
She watched him for a while try to make sense of the bedding, as if he was ever going to be comfortable there.
And suddenly she was too tired to care. It wasn’t like they were strangers after all. They had made love and several times. And even if they didn’t like each other, surely they could share two sides of a big wide bed and still manage to get a good night’s sleep?
‘Stop it,’ she said, as Leo attempted to punch his pillow into submission at one end, one bare foot sticking out over the other. ‘This is ridiculous.�
��
‘You don’t say.’
‘Look, it’s a big bed,’ she said reluctantly, gnawing her lip, trying not to think of the broad, fit body that would be taking up at least half of it. ‘We can share it.’ Then she added, ‘So long as that’s all we share. Is that a deal?’
He sat up on a sigh, clearly relieved. ‘It’s a promise. I promise not to share anything, so long as you don’t jump me first.’
‘Ha. And I thought you were awake. Now I know you’re dreaming. I’m going to have a shower—alone. You’d better be in bed and asleep when I get there, or it’s straight back to the sofa for you.’
And he was asleep when she slipped under the covers, or he was good at pretending. She clung close to her edge of the bed, thinking that was the safest place, yet she could still feel the heat emanating from his body, could hear his slow, steady breathing, and tried not to think about what they’d been doing twenty-four hours ago, but found it hard to think of anything else. Especially when she was so acutely aware of every tiny rustle of sheets or shift in his breathing.
Twenty-four hours. How could so much have happened in that time? How could so much change?
Outside the breeze stirred the leaves in the trees, set the palm fronds rustling, and if she listened hard, she could just hear a faint swoosh as the tiny swell rushed up the shore. But it was so hard to hear anything, so very hard, over the tremulous beating of her heart…
It was happening again. He buried his head under the blanket and put his hands over his ears but it didn’t stop the shouting, or the sound of the blows, or the screams that followed. He cowered under the covers, whimpering, trying not to make too much noise in case he was heard and dragged out too, already dreading what he’d find in the morning at breakfast. If they all made it to breakfast.
There was a crash of furniture, a scream and something smashed, and the blows continued unabated, his mother’s cries and pleas going unheard, until finally, eventually, he heard the familiar mantra, the mantra he knew by heart, even as his mother continued to sob. Over and over he heard his father utter the words telling her he was sorry, telling her he loved her. ‘Signome! Se agapo. Se agapo poli. Signome.’