Hot Christmas Nights

by Rachel Bailey

  Giselle sat straight on her horse. She was breathing hard. He’d poured petrol over any relationship that might still exist between them. Giselle only had to throw the match to explode it to oblivion.

  “Please,” he said, trying to bring himself back under control. Hell, he’d beg if he had to. “Just let me show you round.”

  “Show me round my own property?” Her voice was monotone. She gave nothing away. Wow. He was boiling over with emotion and she was harder than ice.

  “It’s changed a bit since you were last here.”

  He held open the gate. For a moment Giselle simply sat on the horse and stared over the land that was now hers. After a minute, she nodded and encouraged her horse through the gate and onto her property.

  A long breath left Jake’s lungs in a whoosh. He felt as though he’d just fought the battle of Waterloo singlehandedly and won. He turned away before he allowed himself a victory smile.

  Jake walked his horse through the gate, chained it up and remounted.

  They rode side-by-side following a fence line.

  “This is the community garden,” he said, pointing to the field ahead. “Your mother put this aside for the whole community to use. The school has its own section, over there, see, to the left. The one with the scarecrow in school uniform.” Talking about the community’s achievements calmed him.

  “Hmm, different style. Same gaudy colors.”

  “What are you saying, Ms. Harrington? That you don’t like the fetching combination of lurid purple and canary yellow? Where’s your taste, woman.”

  “I hated that uniform.”

  “Doesn’t mean you didn’t look hot in it.”

  He hoped for a smile, but there was no reaction.

  “I’m still too annoyed for you to get away with anything,” she said.

  He grinned. “Sorry. You probably get called hot all the time.”

  She gave a little laugh. “Ah, no.”

  “Come on. I always see your face on the front of some magazine or another. Always being linked to some movie star or billionaire or sporting hero.”

  “That’s just gossip or a convenient career-enhancing setup.”

  “So, you’re not dating anyone just now.”

  “Once again with the personal questions. Were you always like this?” She smiled as if remembering something. “Of course you were! So that’s the crèche?”

  He followed the direction of her pointed finger. Clearly she wasn’t going to talk about her private life. A fact he’d admired her for during her career. Whenever he read an article about her, which wasn’t that often, he noted she’d stuck to her professional life. Something that clearly drove journalists nuts.

  “Yes.”

  She trotted toward the building. “So our kindy closed down?”

  He nodded. “The government pulled the funding, but as usual, your wonderful mother organized a campaign and a year later, the crèche was funded. She covered the cost of renovating and we opened four years ago.”

  Had he imagined it, or had she flinched at the mention of her mother?

  “Yes, my wonderful mother,” Giselle muttered under her breath. He didn’t know if he was meant to hear the bitter words or not. Whatever Giselle thought of Faye Harrington, she couldn’t deny that Faye had been a tireless advocate for the community.

  “Since then she donated three more buildings and raised the funds to open a café, an art gallery and a community center we use for all sorts of things like presentations, parties, fetes, you name it.” He pulled his horse to a stop. Giselle reined her horse up next to him. “So would you at least consider letting the community buy the property?”

  He watched her expression but couldn’t read what was there.

  “I’ll think about it,” she finally conceded.

  He expelled a long breath. Thank goodness. “Thank you. I think Faye would want that,” he said, patting his horse’s neck. “Your mother did more for this town than almost the whole town combined.”

  “Oh yes, she was very community-minded.” Her words dripped with acidity.

  He pressed his lips together. Faye Harrington had been wealthy, but she’d been a single parent, and a tireless community worker with a very difficult daughter. Something snapped inside him. He couldn’t let Faye go undefended.

  “And you could be a spoilt brat.” Giselle had been such a perfectly behaved little girl, but at about twelve she’d rebelled. She became the naughtiest girl at school. He’d loved that fiery spirit, but looking back, being Giselle’s mother would have been a very tough job.

  She stared at him. Her expression as stony and unblinking as a statue in a museum.

  “Listen,” he said. “You were educated in this town. Had your piano and singing lessons in this town. Learned to swim in this town. Don’t let some developer rip the heart out of it now. Surely you owe us something.”

  “Owe you?” She laughed. A horrible, guttural, ugly laugh. A laugh that made him feel as if somehow he’d missed something vitally important. “Owe this town.” There was something wild and scary in her eyes. “When I needed help, this town abandoned me.”

  He frowned. “Help? Help with what?”

  But she’d pulled her horse around. She flicked the reins and galloped back the way they’d come. He watched the dust fly into the air. Abandoned? Giselle had always been overly dramatic. So many sick days. Playing up at school. Always at the headmaster’s office. Always drama. Things were never dull when Giselle was around. It was one of the reasons he’d loved her. He wheeled his horse around and turned it for home. So, nothing had changed.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Giselle cantered to the front of the stables, dismounted and flung the reins over a post. Sex tape or no sex tape, she would not spend one more minute in this place. She stormed into the house and up the stairs to her room. Visiting Turtle Beach was in no way putting the past behind her, it was flinging it roughly into her face. Her mother’s perfect legacy could never be tainted. Faye Harrington would always be remembered as the pillar of goodness, a saint. Giselle Harrington would always be remembered as the one who broke her mother’s heart, the sinner.

  She stripped Sasha’s riding kit from her body and searched for her bra.

  Okay, yes. She was running again. She balled her fists. But why not? Sometimes it was the only way to save yourself.

  She heard Jake climbing the stairs. The sooner she was out of here, the better. Sure, she could have told Jake everything back then. Could have shared her secret, but she wouldn’t have been able to bear it if he, too, hadn’t believed her. Just as she couldn’t bear it now.

  The door burst open. Her heartbeat leapt. She whirled about so Jake would only see her naked back and covered her breasts with her arms.

  “Giselle. Listen—” He sucked in a loud breath. “Oh God. I’m sorry. I should’ve knocked. I—” The room dropped into an awful moment of silence. What was he doing? She turned.

  “Don’t move.” The alarm in his voice shot her body through with fear.

  “What?” she asked urgently, scanning the floor around her feet. Spider? Snake? Centipede? Australia was full of things that could kill you.

  “What the hell are those marks at the top of your legs? On your back? Those scars?”

  Oh. That. She delivered her well-rehearsed answer. The one she always delivered to doctors and lovers. “From a childhood accident. Farm machinery,” she said in her flat, “it isn’t important” voice. No one ever investigated further.

  “What bloody childhood accident?”

  Her heart stopped, then galloped. Acid burned in her belly. Holy Hell. This was Jake. He’d known her since she’d been born. He knew there was no accident.

  She grabbed her shirt and pulled it over her head. “It’s nothing. Could you please leave? I want to get dressed and go.”

  “The hell you are.” He strode across the room, lifted her shirt and examined her back.

  “Hey! Take your hands off me.”

  But he h
eld her fast and ran his fingers over the ugly white marks on her lower back. No one had ever done that before. Touched her scars. She closed her eyes and forced away every confusing emotion threatening to take her and break her.

  “Who did this to you?” If a tone could communicate the intent to kill, she’d just heard it.

  “Jake. It’s nothing.” But she couldn’t keep the betraying tremble from her voice. “Can you please get out of here? I’m half naked.”

  He gripped her shoulders and turned her to face him. The tortured look on his face struck her hard in the heart. She tried to swallow but couldn’t as anguish and shame bubbled up in her throat.

  “Jake, please. Let me go,” she said with a shuddering whisper.

  “You aren’t going anywhere until you tell me.” His voice was loud and rough. “Who hurt you?” He stabbed out the last three words.

  She shoved him in the chest. “Let me go.”

  He might not believe her. He might tell her she was making it all up. Causing trouble. Attention seeking. If Jake uttered any of those words, she might really lose her mind.

  “Get out.” She barely stopped herself from screaming.

  “No. I’m staying until you tell me.”

  “Fine. Stay. But I’m going.”

  She pushed past him and out the door. She hurled herself blindly down the stairs. She could hear Jake calling her name, following her fast. She gripped the handle of the front door, but Jake’s strong hands covered her own. He pinned her gently to the door with his body.

  “Giselle. It’s okay. It’s okay. I shouldn’t have shouted.”

  He needed to stop. She couldn’t handle sympathy, not from Jake. He was the only one who could crash through the defenses she’d built so carefully to survive.

  “It’s just I can’t bear seeing someone I love being hurt.”

  “Love?” You love me?

  “I love you like my own family.”

  Oh. His words burned trails of disappointment across her heart. He thought of her like a sister. That kind of love. Well, that was something, wasn’t it?

  He turned her slowly around. The look on his face had nothing familial to it. His eyes were full of naked want.

  “Giselle, I’ve loved you since you held my hand and showed me the way to our classroom in kindy.”

  He stroked his fingers down her cheek. She took in a shuddering breath. “Jake, this isn’t a good—”

  He cut off her words with a kiss. A light, tender, questioning kiss. She closed her eyes. Tried to convince herself this wasn’t a good idea. But nothing could trump the crushing desire to touch Jake. Hold Jake. Have Jake.

  She ran her fingers into his hair and kissed him, infusing the kiss with all the years of missed passion. She could have died from how desperately she wanted him. Wanted all of him. She ran her hand down his back, bringing their bodies closer. The moan that escaped his lips was low and lethal. The sound throbbed molten lust through her body. She ground her hips against him. Wanting him closer, closer, closer. More, more, more.

  He pulled away. His breath was fast and shallow. A wild storm of passion squalled in his eyes.

  “Giselle, you have to tell me you want this. All of this because if I touch you again, I won’t be able to stop.”

  She didn’t want words. She didn’t want to think past this moment or face the future. The future where she’d once again leave him, but she wouldn’t hurt him twice.

  “Jake, I’m leaving in—”

  “Just say you want me.”

  God. She wanted him. Buried inside her. Damn the consequences. “I want you.”

  Jake pressed her up against the door, molding his body to hers. He kissed her as though she was an addiction he’d been denied.

  Gravel crushed in the driveway. A car door opened, then slammed. Jake peered through the window by the door. He pulled back quickly.

  “It’s Sasha,” he said. “Don’t move or she’ll hear us.”

  They stood together frozen. Sasha walked up the steps and knocked on the door.

  “I know you’re there, Jake. Open up.”

  Jake leant his forehead against Giselle’s. “Great timing, Sis,” he whispered. “We’ll have to let her in. She’ll only come around the back.”

  “Oh.” Giselle’s mind whirled in a blur. She shook her head, trying to force sense in to overcome the lust. “It’ll be nice to thank her properly for her help yesterday.”

  She turned to open the door. Jake held it shut.

  “As much as I hate saying this, you might like to put on a few more clothes.”

  Giselle stood in her shirt and knickers. She laughed softly. “Good idea.”

  “And I’ll need a few minutes, too.” He looked down. She followed his gaze. His jodhpurs did little to hide his desire.

  “Oh.” She rubbed her hand against his erection. “Don’t let him forget me.” He shut his eyes and groaned.

  “Jake. Are you okay in there?” Sasha called. “For God’s sake, open the door, it’s hotter than Hades out here.”

  Giselle kissed him and then ran up the stairs. She walked to her room in a daze.

  Kissing Jake Carlton. Touching Jake Carlton. Like that! What had she been thinking? This wasn’t part of the get-out-of-Turtle-Beach-quick plan. Jake had the power to complicate things. Confuse things.

  She threw herself on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Jake’s touch still burned across her skin.

  No, she needed to stick to the plan. She sat up quickly. She needed to sell the estate. She needed to leave town. She needed to go back to her carefully constructed life.

  Grabbing her clothes, she headed for the shower. She needed to cleanse herself of North Wind, her desire and all thoughts of wrapping her legs around Jake’s waist and having him take her to heaven.

  Shutting the bathroom door, she stripped and stepped under the shower. She set the water to ice cold and threw herself under the hard, biting spray. Sense and reality crashed back.

  She must go before Jake asked any more questions. Before Jake took her to bed and made her forget that Turtle Beach was the demon she was running from. Before Jake conquered her heart and wanted her to stay. She could never live in Turtle Beach and Jake would never leave.

  After showering, she found some clothes laid out on her bed. A short denim skirt, a pink cotton top and a pair of flip-flops. So sweet. Jake must have called Sasha knowing she had no clothes with her. After all, she’d only planned to stay a few hours, not a few days.

  She slipped into the casual outfit and looked in the mirror. It was so nice to be dressing down. At home in London, she couldn’t leave her flat without a photographer taking a snap. She always had to be camera-ready. It was exhausting.

  She walked back downstairs. The delicious smells wafting through the house announced where she’d find brother and sister. Sasha’s loud and contagious laugh filtered through the house.

  Lucky Sasha had turned up. Kissing Jake was a bad, bad idea. If Sasha hadn’t arrived, then what? Sex on the floorboards and her leaving a few days later? Not good. She was in Turtle Beach to cut all ties. Not do something stupid that might confuse things. Jake’s mere presence was already doing that.

  “Thanks for the clothes, Sasha,” Giselle said, walking into the kitchen.

  “No problem. Jake must have been sick of seeing you in that hot get-up you had on yesterday. All that leather and tight white denim. I can see why he wanted you out of it.” Sasha grinned. She always liked saying things to get a reaction. Her brother shot her a “be careful” scowl.

  “Still having Saturday-morning pancakes,” Giselle said, taking a seat next to Sasha at the breakfast bench and ignoring the innuendo of her words.

  “If you have a good thing, stick to it,” Jake said. “You want some?”

  Pancakes on Saturdays had been a Carlton family tradition. Except back then it had been Jake’s dad doing the cooking.

  “Yes, please. How is your dad?”

  “Good days and bad days,” Jak
e said.

  “We cared for him as long as we could here, but he started to wander,” Sasha said. “It wasn’t safe anymore. He’s over at Ocean View in the high-care unit.”

  That must have been terrible for all the family. Brian Carlton was a giant of a man and a giant of the community. Watching such a man slowly lose his mind must have been heartbreaking. But Jake and Sasha didn’t know that their father had failed her. Brian had been her last attempt at seeking help. Giselle had told him about her mother and what she was doing to her. He’d given her a stern lecture on making up damaging stories about good people. That was the day she’d decided to leave. If the wonderful, kind and caring Brian Carlton thought she was telling lies, everyone would. The lesson had finally been rammed home. She needed to save herself.

  “I’m so sorry,” Giselle said. “You must miss him a lot.”

  Jake shrugged, but she could see the pain on his face. “What’re you going to do?” he said. “It’s weird though, sometimes it’s as if he wants to forget. On his good days, sometimes it’s like he wants to fade back into the black.”

  “That’s so sad,” Giselle said.

  Sasha sipped her tea. “Shows you life is short, you should grab happiness whenever you can.” She looked from Giselle to Jake and back again. “Don’t you think?” Sasha was making a point, a point Giselle studiously ignored.

  “Breakfast,” Jake announced, placing a plate stacked with pancakes before her.

  “Hmm,” Giselle leant forward to smell her food and to cut off wherever Sasha was going with her happiness line of conversation.

  “Berries?” Sasha asked, pushing a bowl of fresh strawberries toward her. Blueberries, nuts, natural yogurt and honey were also on offer. The smells and the ritual flooded her with the memories and the happy times she’d spent in this house.

  “So, Sasha,” Giselle said. “You own a salon?”