The Gem (D'Arth Book 4)

by Camille Oster

  Chapter 14

  * * *

  Peter accepted the wine list from the waiter, perusing the selection. His time of abstinence, in every respect, was now over. The surgeon had been happy with the results and had cleared him to return to work, suggesting he takes it easy to start with. Officially this was all over, and Peter would start with a nice bottle of Turckheim Reisling.

  Indicating to the waiter which one he wanted, he put the wine list down. Shay was looking at him, her face slightly flushed as she did whenever he pushed her out of her comfort zone. The design of this restaurant seemed to make the chatter of the other patrons nearly unheard, or it was that patrons here tended to keep their voices subdued. It was like a little bubble of utter luxury, just for them.

  "You should have some wine," he said, considering her.

  "I am working."

  "We both know that you can be flexible on the rules when it suits you." He watched her wince. He was honing in on her weaknesses, but he wanted honesty—thrived on it. She was so young, she didn't quite know how to handle her own mistakes yet. She would only become successful if she learnt, and he was pleased that she recognised and owned up to her own weaknesses.

  "I am trying my best, so please don't tempt me."

  "This wine is suburb, it won awards."

  "It would probably be wasted on me."

  "You have my permission to have some wine. Let's call it a celebration."

  She smiled, finally. "Just half a glass then."

  The waiter came to present the wine, pouring a tester for Peter. It smelled lovely, like summer in France. "Perfect," Peter said and the waiter smiled broadly, pouring more into his glass, then into Shay's glass, who was sitting with her legs crossed and her hand between her thighs just above the knee and biting the nail of her thumb on the other hand.

  He knew it was slightly sadistic of him, but he liked seeing her discomfort. She wasn't dressed for this place, wearing tight grey jeans and that same military jacket. "Don't you have any other jackets?"

  "I like this jacket." She took a sip of the wine and he watched as she registered the taste of it. "It is nice."

  "Not wasted then?"

  She smiled tightly then looked out the window. Now that he was cleared to return to his old life, he didn't need her anymore. He wasn't a fantastic walker just yet, and a while away from visiting the gym, but he didn't need support now like he had. But he wasn't sure he was ready to completely be on his own. "I'd like you to stay on for another couple of days. I am likely to be tired when I come home."

  "You like someone to fuss over you," she smiled.

  "Yes. I may be too tired to fend for myself."

  "You shouldn't go to work yet."

  "Must get back in the saddle at some point. This is as good a point as any."

  The waiter came and took their order. Peter ordered eye fillet and Shay ordered pasta, but they returned to awkward silence after. Conversation between them had never been this awkward before, antagonistic in spades, but it had always flowed nicely. Now, however, it was different, because their roles had changed. He wasn't the helpless invalid anymore and she wasn't his saviour.

  Reaching for the wine glass, she brought it to her mouth. She had nice lips—excellent skin, and he watched as she swallowed the liquid.

  Seducing a woman was easy: you just had to see them. It was the most powerful aphrodisiac in the world to a woman—someone who sees them. It always amazed Peter how few men did. They see tits, or their next lay or whatever, but they often glossed over the woman behind whatever they see. People often thought his success with women was down to what he said to them, but it wasn't—it was what he saw.

  "You're not going to have a nail left if you keep harassing it like that," he said. Shay clasped her nail inside her palm and brought it down to her lap. "What has you so worried? Are you concerned that you will be out of work in a few days?"

  "Not really. I'm going on a trip soon, so it works out quite well."

  "Where are you going?"

  "Bodrum."

  "Turkey."

  "Yes. I'm really looking forward to it."

  "Turkey is something you should do with a lover."

  She looked down in her lap, flushing a bit more. With a grin, he realised that he loved making her blush.

  "I don't know about a lover, but I might have some lovely beach-bronzed boys lather me in sunscreen all day," she said, looking up at him with a glint in her eye. There was the sassy girl that came out every once in a while. An image of it popped into Peter's head. He wasn't sure if she was aware of it, but she could lay down these profound little teases sometimes. He had to compliment it with a sip of wine.

  The waiter returned with their food, which looked wonderful. While he wasn't disparaging of Shay's hearty cooking, he had missed the more refined taste of restaurant-quality dishes. Cutting a piece off, he placed the succulent meat in his mouth and closed his eyes, savouring the taste as the meat melted on his tongue. It was good to be back. Everything was fine now. He would go to work tomorrow, get stronger every day, until this was all a bad memory—well, maybe not entirely bad.

  Shay finished most of her creamy pasta. It would have been nice, too. Peter could see little specs of truffle in the sauce. "Did you enjoy it?"

  "It was lovely. Divine actually."

  "It is why I come here. They do make the most decadent desserts."

  "I don't think I could manage another bite."

  "We should go home then," he said, leaning back in his chair, feeling pleased. Seeking out the waiter, he placed his finger up, indicating he wanted the bill. "Worth every penny."

  "Have you decided which car you're going to get?"

  "Not yet." It was unusual that he was indecisive on something, but he just couldn't make a selection between these cars. The bill arrived and Peter signed his name. "We should go."

  A cab was already waiting outside and Peter opened the door, letting Shay get in first. Now that he wasn't officially crippled anymore, he could show courtesies again. Again, Shay looked tight and nervous as they drove along the streets of the Embankment, finally reaching Southwark and his apartment building.

  Nodding to the security guard as they passed, they waited for the elevator. A ping announced its arrival and they stepped into the dark glass and chrome box. Crossing his legs at the ankles, Peter leaned on the mirrored wall and waited as they rose, then stepped towards her where she stood on the other side. He towered over her and it was much more noticeable now that he stood with a mere inch between them.

  Shay looked up at him, her breath caught. She looked stunning and supremely kissable, but he wouldn't rush this game. Her eyes were glossy and she looked expectant and a little afraid. Currents of electricity ran between them, and he knew she felt it. Leaning down, he kissed her on the cheek. "Thank you, for getting me through this."

  Stepping away, he noted that she was still holding her breath. The door pinged and he stood back, letting her pass. With a shaking hand, she unlocked the door with her key.

  He could have just taken her; she would have relented, but it was better to play it this way. She would have to come to him, and he had set it up now. The invitation was plain, in action if not in words.

  Shay headed straight to the kitchen, keeping her back to him. She didn't trust herself right now, or she wouldn't be acting like a frightened doe. It was a stage on the path and he would just sit back and wait for her to travel down it.

  Taking his jacket and shoes off, he lay down. He felt a bit worn out, but also exhilarated. He'd wanted this for a while now, but had promised himself he wouldn't compromise on his healing, unable to ensure he'd stop as required, suspecting that when the passion flowed, he wouldn't care if he was pulling his stitches, or doing himself some other damage.

  His body ached with unspent desire and the fact that she'd seen him more vulnerable than anyone only exacerbated it. He'd been mortifiably vulnerable in front of her and she'd seen him with very little left. But his re
serves was refilling now and he was growing stronger. He wanted her to see his strength. Normally, he let women see his vulnerability—something else they couldn't resist. But it had to be true, or it wouldn't work. It had taken him a long time to learn that. He'd also learnt that showing vulnerability didn't actually make him vulnerable—although with her he'd been stripped of everything.

  Taking his challenge would be one of the most unprofessional things she could do, and part of him wanted her to resist, but the more powerful part wanted her to fail. He wanted the sweetness and the relentment, but would probably deride the weakness. The endless trap.

  Listening to her move around the apartment, dealing with the messages he'd thrown down, he closed his eyes, feeling sleep tugging at him. He didn't want to sleep, he wanted to play, but he body still compromised him.

  Chapter 15

  * * *

  Everything had changed. She wouldn't go so far as to describe their existence as having been cosy, but it had been something. It was different now. It was like Peter, in all his glory, had been unchained, and it went straight from reluctant co-operation and teasing banter to full on … ravishment. It was the only thing she could say to describe it. It wasn't words; he hadn't said anything, but it was there—in spades.

  Walking over to his bed, she considered him as he slept, lying on his back with his hand resting on his taut abdomen, looking irresistible and eminently fuckable.

  He wanted her; she knew that. Again, he hadn't said anything, but she knew. She could see the hard planes of his chest under his white shirt and the firm curves of his thighs, the bulge further up. She'd bet her left arm that if anyone knew what they were doing in bed, it would be Peter Dunham.

  On some level, it was amazing that someone as perfect as Peter wanted her, but she was just another conquest. If he had approached her on the dance floor in some club, she would have been all over him, thoroughly fucked and discarded before she'd even sobered up—not that Peter would be looking for girls like her in some club. His interest in her was just a by-product from just happening to have been here the last few weeks.

  Returning to the kitchen, Shay sank heavily into a chair by the table. She missed their old dealings a bit, and she didn't quite know what to make of this change. Her fingers itched just to go over there and throw caution to the wind, feel every part of him that she'd restrained herself from since the moment she'd met him. Why not, her mind was saying; you're never going to get a chance with someone like that again. Just take it and run, bank the memories for the future when you're tied down with laundry and kids.

  But the problem was: she wasn't entirely sure she could do that. She'd seen him with his armour off; she knew what lay beneath, and she wasn't sure she could get away with the running part. It wouldn't just be some hot guy she was tangling with; it would be someone she knew more intimately. She'd seen how hard he'd tried, how disappointed he'd been when his body failed him, and how scared he'd been when he had no control. There had been times when she'd wanted to wrap him up and protect him. What were the chances she could just forget about that, have a hot night and then turn around and leave it all behind? The chances were low and she would be doing herself a lot more damage than she was ready to take on.

  She could not let this happen. Peter wouldn't care; he'd turn his attention elsewhere next week, probably already having forgotten her name. He needed to go back to doing what he did—a life he was apparently very happy with, and she needed to get back to her life. Tomorrow he would go to work and she wouldn't be needed anymore.

  Returning to the bed, she pulled out a blanket and covered him with it, covering every inch of that delectable body that he was now using to tease the hell out of her. If she let herself, every form of hot and heavy image threatened to take over her mind. She went to the kitchen and retrieved a glass of water, placing it on the bedside table. She'd left a lasagne in the oven for him, warming gently for when he woke.

  Kneeling down, she looked at him. She shouldn't take those extra days he offered. It would be too dangerous. "Not this time, Peter," she said and leant over, kissing him on his forehead. Shay held her breath, knowing it had been a risk doing so, but he didn't stir. "Good bye, Peter."

  Taking a last look, she grabbed her medical bag and left the key on the kitchen island. She wouldn't be coming back.

  She actually felt a little teary as she walked away from the building, hating that she was skulking off while he was sleeping, but when he woke, he'd be turning those eyes on her again, unnerving her like he had been all day. Peter was on a mission and she was his target—better to just not go there.

  The next day, Shay sat searching the Internet, looking at other jobs going. Hopefully Peter wouldn't give her a bad recommendation. She'd be truly screwed if he did.

  The flat was quiet as Jess was at work. Shay had spent an hour in the morning cleaning up and now there wasn't much to do. She could go for a walk around the stores this afternoon, but she really needed to save what money she'd earned. A warm feeling washed over her when she realised it was money that Peter had given her. Closing her eyes, she knew she had to move on, put that whole mess behind her.

  Her musings were disturbed by the ringing of her phone. Feeling dread creep up her spine, she checked the number. It was Melissa, her recruitment agent. "Hi," Shay said with relief as she answered the call.

  "Hi, Shay. I've just spoken to your client and he says some really good things about you," Melissa said brightly, and Shay exhaled, silently thanking Peter for doing this for her when he had every excuse not to. He hadn't tanked her, which was good news. "He's asked to extend your contract for another few days, just the evenings. Then after that, I want to talk to you about another opportunity that's come up." Melissa said it so matter-of-factly, Shay realised she couldn't refuse. She couldn't just turn a contract extension down. With this contract, she'd just proven herself and it would be the ultimate red flag if she turned it down now. Melissa would label her unreliable and she'd never get another contract.

  "Of course," Shay said, panic running through her entire body, pumping adrenalin into her system.

  "So you'll be there tonight? I believe you are expected around four."

  "Ah huh," Shay said, making out like she was writing it down.

  "Alright, I'll speak to you in a couple of days."

  "Okay, thanks, Melissa," Shay said brightly, covering the distress she actually felt.

  When Melissa rang off, Shay spent a whole minute kicking the pillow on the other side of the couch. "Bastard," she yelled. But as soon as she stopped, she felt tension creep up her spine again. She'd be spending the evening at Peter's again, entrapped in the predator's lair.

  Breathing in deeply, she reiterated that she had to be professional. Attraction was not compelling and just because he was hot and would throw her those bedroom eyes when he was lying in bed, practically naked, didn't mean she was completely incapable of saying no. She should see it from his perspective: he was just a lay, one she could and should say no to. And to ensure that, she wouldn't shave anything when she hopped into the shower shortly after and she would wear her most atrocious underwear. If she cared anything for Peter's opinion, which unwillingly she did, that would be a sure-fire strategy, because she would never hear the end of it. Peter thought her best clothes were crap. If he saw her at her worst, he would probably be physically put off—he was vain like that, wasn't he?

  If she could just shake this nervousness. She never used to feel that way, well maybe, but she'd always managed. It was just a job and she would perform her duties and then go home. A couple of days and then she would be free.

  She swore during the entire bus ride over to Southwark, walking down the street with a frown, saying ‘Hi’ to the security guy as she walked in the building. It was all going to be fine, she told herself as she stood in the elevator, watching the floor numbers pass, ignoring being reminded of the 'thank you' he'd given her the day before. She could have just melted on the spot. She hadn't kno
wn what to do; he'd just been there, close enough to touch, his breath on her cheek, her entire body reacting.

  The hallway was empty as she walked to Peter's door, remembering that she'd left the key inside. Groaning, she tried the door and it was locked. He didn't come when she rang the bell, so he obviously wasn't home yet.

  Sitting down, she crossed her legs and waited. It didn't take long for the elevator to ping. Shay felt her tension rise almost to panic levels again, and, scarily, the sight of him made her feel better. He was so familiar to her now, after having spent weeks in his company.

  Walking over to the door, he slid his key in the lock. "Shouldn't have left your key, should you?" he said. Shay didn't know what he'd taken from that message. "Wasn't sure I'd see you back."

  "I'm here. You need me, I'm here," she said, swallowing through a smile.

  "Why the change of heart?" his eyes were boring into her from where he stood, partially having opened the door. His question was earnest and he wanted to know the answer.

  She wasn't entirely sure what to say so she settled on the truth. "It would hurt my prospects to not complete a contract."

  Considering her words, he pushed the door open. "Come in then."

  Chapter 16

  * * *

  Taking a breath, Shay walked into the apartment, spotting her key exactly where she'd left it. She walked to the table and sat down, not really sure what was required of her. He didn't really need any medical attention as such, but guessed he did need some support.

  By the look of him, he was tired. His eyes were heavy and his movement slow. "I'm going to lie down for a minute."

  Shay wasn't a bit surprised when he took off his suit jacket and lay down on the bed. "How was the first day back?" He'd obviously overtaxed himself. She watched as he settled on the bed, facing back to where she was sitting. His eyes closed immediately. The stillness of the room solidified as he fell asleep and Shay got up, turning her attention to the kitchen and what food she would prepare for him.