by Ash Harlow
“Uh-huh.”
“I bought it in town.”
I doubted that. “It’s a Claudia Saint Deveaux design. She doesn’t have an outlet in town, she doesn’t have an outlet in New Zealand.” I watched her carefully. If the dress had anything to do with my stepfather it would show on her face.
“It’s probably a knock-off. I don’t know who Claudia Saint-and-Sinner is, and my budget doesn’t run to designer stuff. Wait, have you dated this Saint woman?”
“She’s related to someone I know.”
“And you just happen to recognize her designs, because, what…she’s some distant acquaintance? You’ve slept with her, haven’t you?”
Her little possessive show was cute, but I needed to simmer her down. “Come here.” I reached for her hand but she pulled it away. “Darcy, I need to tell you something and I want you here, on my lap.”
She narrowed her eyes then made short reluctant steps toward me. I pulled her down and held her close, resisting the urge to mouth her neck, or slip her bra strap off her delectable shoulder.
“I want you tell me where you bought the dress.”
“Fine, okay, shame me. I got it at the charity shop in town. I didn’t have any decent clothes with me and op-shops suit my budget right now.”
“I’ll fix the clothing issue for you. We can shop in Auckland, but I want you to stay away from the charity shop.”
“Oliver, you can’t tell me where to shop. That’s my choice.”
“Okay, I’m asking you not to shop there. That dress belonged to my fiancée, Annabelle. I bought it for her. I know this because Claudia made it as a one-off from a picture Annabelle had found in one of the stacks of fashion magazines she hoarded like some sort of clothing porn. It’s the dress she was wearing the day we broke up.”
I was surprised when Darcy leaned in and kissed me. “Your Annabelle may have her failings, but she has good taste in men and clothes.”
“Forget about her, she’s a bitch.”
She must have dumped her clothing at the op-shop, probably so that I’d get an eyeful of her dresses on other women around town. If that was the extent of her revenge, then it was pretty benign. And for Annabelle, benign was totally out of character. I knew she wasn’t done with me yet.
If it wasn’t so obsessive I’d send someone in there to buy up all the stock because seeing Darcy dressed in Annabelle’s clothes was completely unacceptable. She shouldn’t be wearing second-hand clothes, anyway.
“I still need something to wear to get me back to my house.”
“You could stay in my bed for the day.”
She swung a leg around and straddled me. “I’m tender all over, and tempted, big boy. But Ginger’s picking me up at nine-thirty to take me mountain biking.”
I looked at my watch. It was already after eight. “In that case, I’ll cook you some eggs and toast. Ginger’s a crazy biker so you’re going to need a lot of fuel. I can drop you home after breakfast and you can sneak into your house without the neighbors seeing.”
“Right, because being dropped off at my front door early on a Sunday morning, by Mr. Sackville in his Range Rover won’t raise any eyebrows.”
“It’ll give them something to talk about beyond strokes and hypertension medication during the morning over-sixties group walk. Consider it a service to the community. If we did it daily, you’d receive a civic award and a mention in the Waitapu Bay Sun.”
Darcy thumped my shoulder and swung off my lap. “To the kitchen, chef.”
I gave her one of my T-shirts to wear. It hung to mid-thigh and made me hard whenever I looked at her. Much sexier than the dress on all counts.
She finished up cooking the eggs while I tried to emulate a barista and completely failed. Annabelle had insisted on installing a La Marzocco espresso machine that would happily fill the needs of a large cafe. I’d left its operation completely in her hands and had been cursing it as a dust collector for the past year.
Darcy poached perfect eggs with the competency of a short-order cook and nudged me out of the way to tackle the coffee. “Let me see if I can make this sucker sing.”
She’d made this sucker sing and I almost told her so but something held me back. I believed her story about the dress but when it came to connections with Annabelle and my family, coincidences made me edgy. This was the second one involving Darcy.
Even so, it was frighteningly comfortable to have her around the house and I’d drawn a promise from her that she’d come back again for dinner tonight.
I got her back to the cottage with only five minutes to spare. I gathered her in for one last kiss, loving how the fragrance of my body wash mixed with her unique scent. Finally I allowed her to pull away and she’d popped open the car door without giving me time to open it for her. She’d seemed overly grateful the first time I’d done that for her so clearly whatever douchebag had had her before me was lacking in manners. I’d have to school her on that fast exit to make sure she waited for me to perform door duty.
She blew me a last kiss and said, “I’ll think of you every time my tender bits make contact with the bike seat.”
I could feel myself falling for her already. Another thing I felt was a twinge of envy for the bike seat.
13 ~ DARCY
“You hired a helicopter to take us to Auckland?” Oliver looked surprised by my question, but this was not my normal mode of travel.
“Not exactly ‘hired’,” he grinned.
“Shoot, you own it.”
“And for some reason that disappoints you?”
“Um, shocked is more appropriate,” I replied. I’d come across wealth before but I had no idea Oliver’s ran to private helicopters.
He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward it. “It’s a business, Darcy. I only get to use it when it’s not chartered or being used for SAR work. Some days I have to travel to Auckland by light plane, just like a regular plebe.”
“Regular people use cars and public transport.”
“Do they? How awful.”
I tugged my hand from his grip, stopping him. The sun was in my eyes so I made a hand-visor over my brow to see if his beautiful face showed signs of being serious. Nerves over my trip to Auckland had all but cremated my sense of humor, but I allowed Oliver to take my hand away. He tickled my cheek with a long finger before pulling our clasped hands to his side, giving mine a squeeze.
He knew I’d been tense ever since he’d proposed this Auckland visit, but he didn’t know why. I was grateful he didn’t push for the reason.
“I shouldn’t have said that. I’m ashamed of myself.”
His grin suggested the opposite. “Insufferable,” I muttered.
“Saved by the pilot.”
A man approached us across the apron.
“Morning, Joe. This is Darcy, your second passenger today.”
Joe shook my hand, and flashed an easy grin that probably had female passengers wishing their commuter flight would take a bit longer.
“We’ve got a bit of free time so take us on the scenic route, Mercury Islands, that sort of thing. Give Darcy a tour of the area, but no stunts.”
“Sure, boss. Come on, Darcy, let’s get you settled up front.” When I hesitated he added, “It’s the best view.”
“I’m not sure if I want a view.”
“In that case, we’ll see if Oliver is carrying a blindfold.”
My stomach flipped.
“Here’s an idea, Joe, you be the pilot and I’ll make the jokes.” He stepped between Joe and I and got close to my ear. “You don’t have to sit up front but on a day like today the views will be spectacular. I think you’ll enjoy it.”
Joe pulled out all the stops on his scenic tour, dropping us down over the eastern cliffs of the islands, pointing out bays accessible only by boat, probably unaware that I’d already visited some of them. He took us low over a pod of whales and gestured toward a couple of residences of the rich and famous before heading toward Auckland. Twenty-five minutes l
ater we touched down at Mechanics Bay where a cab waited to take us along the waterfront to Oliver’s viaduct apartment.
The waterfront buildings were low-rise, and he occupied the penthouse apartment. When I entered I walked straight to the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked over the Waitemata Harbor. It had been three years since I’d been to my home city and Devonport, on the other side of the harbor, was where I’d grown up. The day was brilliantly clear, the sea sparkling like a multi-faceted jewel and I was surprised by the nostalgia that hung like an emotional mist in my thoughts.
There was Mount Victoria and North Head, two of Devonport’s signature landmarks, and out in the gulf sat Rangitoto, Auckland’s iconic dormant volcano.
I took a deep breath, and released it. This was home. “For a big city, it’s geographical architecture is quite stunning. Nice digs, Oliver. I’m guessing you own this, too.”
Oliver stood behind me, resting his hands on my shoulders. “Yes, I hate to be such a disappointment, but the same company that owns the helicopter has this apartment on its books. Before you lecture me about wealth and excess I want to point out that it’s more economical for us to have this than to be regularly staying in hotels when one of us comes to Auckland. It’s also ideal for visiting clients who prefer the seclusion of a private apartment over something more public.”
“I’m sorry for being so snappy earlier. I guess I was tense about climbing into a tiny helicopter.”
“Way to make a guy feel smug about his toys, Darcy.” Oliver pulled me closer to his chest. “I’ll have you know ours is one of the larger private helicopters in the country.”
“Compared to a commercial jet, it looked small. Even though I’m not fond of flying, that was fun.”
“Glad you enjoyed it.”
I felt his lips press against the top of my head. He was holding back, giving me space to reset in a place I’d been avoiding. Not only were painful memories ghosting around but I was dealing with a big bag of anxiety about this evening’s function. If I ran into the wrong person, I’d have some explaining to do. I appreciated, a lot, that he had the sensitivity to give me space. Normally he overwhelmed me and given that our relationship had a finishing date aligned with the contract, we both grabbed and took from each other what we could, when the situation was right.
Physically, it was perfect. Emotionally, I was trying to keep my feelings at a low simmer.
“I’ll take care of you while we’re in Auckland, Darcy. No one can touch you here.” He turned me around, away from the window. “What is it you see?”
I shrugged.
“Tell me.”
Suddenly I wanted him to know. Not all of it, but the way I felt…Vulnerable, I guess. “I see years of bad decisions.”
“Relationships?”
I nodded. No point in trying to hide that.
“You’re probably being harsh on yourself. We all make bad decisions, and you have to remember that at the start of the relationship it probably seemed like a good decision. It would have stayed a good decision if the relationship had lasted, wouldn’t it?”
Rob was never a good decision and I didn’t want to think about Rob now. How I clung on, believing the lies, believing if I loved him enough I could get back to the top place on his list of wants, needs and love. Except he had so little respect for my love that he didn’t even have the guts to tell me I was wasting my time waiting for him to turn his life around.
“What we’re doing…I have to come out of this with my self-respect in place. That’s asking a lot, seeing as we’re, you know, sort of casual and there’s the danger of someone’s expectations changing, unintentional hurt…I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m saying. Being in this city is throwing a lot at me, emotionally. I didn’t know how I’d react. I’ll get myself together—”
“Hey,” he pulled me hard against him. “Hey, settle, sweetheart. I’m not going to harm you, okay. I want to take care of you, make all this Auckland anxiety vanish. We’re going to go to a thoroughly dull function tonight and I won’t leave your side. Then I’m going to bring you back to the apartment and fuck Auckland right out of you.”
“Not every problem can be solved with your beautiful cock.”
His eyes darkened with lust. “It hasn’t failed yet to put a smile on your face and draw more than a few cries of pleasure from you. Have I told you how much I love sharing your problems?”
I slid my hand to the front of his pants and squeezed. He was hard. “With actions, rather than words. But I’m good with body language.”
“Good, because it’s time to play dress-up.”
“About that.” I sighed and pulled away from him. “You’ve probably noticed by now, I don’t have much of a wardrobe. In fact, I don’t have much of anything.” I pointed at the small bag I’d brought with me. “I’m not a magician, Oliver. There’s no rabbit coming out of that bag in the form of an outfit suitable for your function tonight.”
“I know. Hopefully I’ve got a surprise for you.” He took my hand. “Come into my parlor.”
His words were apt as it seemed the more time I spent with Oliver, the more I became entangled in his web of life, the way his money eased the way, the excitement, the hot sex, the companionship, all the trappings that were slowly blotting out much of my loneliness and self-doubt and turning Oliver into something I wanted more of.
He opened the door to an enormous bedroom. No personal touches, just understated luxury like a room in a fine hotel. Stacked by a wardrobe were a number of packages, some with boutique logos I recognized, others new to me. Oliver released my hand and started riffling through them like a kid on Christmas morning.
“Start with this.” He passed me a bag.
It was from an upscale lingerie boutique which had pretty things I lusted after but had never tried. I looked at the remaining stack of packages and could gauge from the feminine packaging that they were probably all for me.
“Oliver, this is too much.”
“Shh.” He put a finger against my lip to silence me. I wanted to bite it.
He took the carry bag from my grip and removed a large box. “Let’s get started. I want the full show.”
I stood stunned, watching as he opened the box, unwrapped the pretty tissue paper and revealed bras, underwear, garters, stockings. Hell. He went through the sets and chose one before looking at me.
“You’re still dressed.”
I suddenly felt self-conscious. It was one thing for us both to be naked in the throes or afterglow of hot sex but it felt weird, stripping off in front of him to try on the lingerie he’d picked out for me.
“I can read body language, too, Darcy. You’re nervous. Don’t be. I want to see you in this. It’ll be like wrapping a gift to myself. One I’m going to take great pleasure in unwrapping later tonight.”
When he put it like that, how could I refuse him? I kicked off my shoes and shrugged my way out of the fitted knit dress. In comparison the underwear I wore, that looked fine this morning, was dull. Oliver had my new panties in his hand and he looked me directly in the eye with a wicked gleam as he bit the sales tag off and passed them to me.
“Change,” he said.
I was changing, little by little. I dropped my panties and pulled the new ones on, pleased that he was half-distracted by removing the bra swing-tags which were giving his teeth a little more trouble.
The low-rise panties were soft pink with an all over lace trim. From the back, the coverage was minimal beyond a corset-inspired lace-up panel. The matching bra, of course, was a push-up giving me a cleavage even I was impressed with. The garter belt matched so that it appeared the lacing continued from the panties all the way up.
I stood in front of the mirror and stared. The entire ensemble was stunning.
“Fuck.”
“Really, Oliver, such profanity,” I teased, even though I agreed with him.
“Seriously, Darcy. Not much more comes to mind beyond Fuck!”
I did a twirl and sto
pped facing the mirror again. The lingerie made me feel very sexy, almost light-headed, and I had to look again.
“You can’t wear those tonight. I’ll be hard all evening. Not cool when I’m supposed to be presenting a professional business image. Wear your old stuff.”
I stalked across the room to him and placed my hands on his shoulders. “Uh-uh, I’m wearing this.” I pressed myself against him. “And if you find yourself in any bother I shall have to get on my knees under the table and blow you for relief.”
“Not helping. I’ll need my memory of this little moment erased before we arrive at the function.”
“Then I shall whisper sweet reminders in your ear, probably when you’re talking to a government minister. This might be fun after all.”
“Matched only by the fun I shall have punishing you when we return. Pick a dress.”
I hoped he was joking but his face gave nothing away. “How did you know my dress size?” I asked. There were four to choose from, each one as glamorous as the other.
“I peeked at the tags of your underwear.”
They were wash-worn and faded, but of course, I had fit Annabelle’s clothes. Obviously he’d done this sort of thing for her, too. That dart of jealousy carried a surprisingly nasty sting.
I tried each dress, modelling them for Oliver and enjoying the opportunity to be admired and told how sexy I was. In the end I chose a cream figure-hugging sheath that had a pattern interwoven through the cloth, with the finest gold thread, like the mottled bark of an old tree. It caught the light without being sparkly and until you were up close, you really couldn’t tell what was causing the reflection of light. It hugged me and plunged to the small of my back. A clever criss-cross of narrow straps below my shoulder blades meant I could still wear my new underwear and enjoy a bit of bust enhancement for a change. The front showed off my cleavage without revealing too much.
I felt elegant and beautiful and the confidence boost it gave me would do something toward making up for the price tag.
“We’ll pack up the others. I plan to find many opportunities for you to wear them.”