She shook her head, her expression dreamy. ‘I just want to swim, lie on the beach, and soak it all up.’
That was exactly what they did. He found a deserted spot at one end of the beach beneath the palm trees and pulled forth the beach umbrella—one from her cocktails and mocktails range. The canopy was a concoction of orange and yellow fizz and bubbles and strategically placed liquorice allsorts while the centre pole was shaped like the stem of a cocktail glass—fun and utterly frivolous. He spread their towels beneath it and then moved back beside her to cast a critical eye over the picture it made.
He couldn’t rein in a big stupid grin. ‘I can’t believe just looking at that thing makes me so happy.’
‘It looks perfect here.’
It did. These babies were going to take the world by storm. If she signed with MA he’d make sure of it.
She pulled her sundress over her head and kicked off her sandals. ‘Last one in is a...’
Her words stuttered to a halt and he knew it was because he was staring, but he couldn’t stop. She wore a crocheted one-piece in a nude colour that almost tricked the eye into thinking she was naked.
‘Stop looking at me like that,’ she whispered, biting her lip and glancing down at herself. ‘It’s too much, isn’t it? It’s the only bathing suit I have and—’
‘No! You look great. Really great.’
Her smile when it came was shy. ‘Thank you.’
Swallowing, he lectured himself on keeping his hands to himself, before pulling his shirt over his head. Her quick intake of breath as she stared at his naked torso had things inside him heating up. ‘We must be crazy,’ she whispered as if to herself. He couldn’t agree more. They swung away at the same time and started resolutely towards the water in the lagoon.
They swam in the warm tropical water, and lazed on the beach. They devoured the picnic he’d packed. And they touched. Harmless touches. Accidental touches. A touch on an arm to point something out; a sliding of shoulders as they reached for the same bottle of water; fingers brushing against each other’s as they passed a towel between them. At one point, Jamie reached out to push a strand of Christy’s hair back behind her ear and froze mid-action, but when she smiled at him he completed the move and for a moment everything in the world felt right in a way it had never felt right before.
They sprawled on their towels and talked about everything and anything—their university days, their favourite books and movies; when she found out he jogged in Central Park she made him describe it in detail, and then she told him what she would do on her first day in New York if she ever had a chance to visit. He discovered that she’d worked full-time as a teller in a bank during the eight years she’d spent studying, and that she’d taken on summer jobs as well, waitressing in the evenings or flipping burgers.
He made her tell him what she and her mother had done on their beach days when she’d been growing up. The picture she drew of their relationship had envy twisting in his gut. They might not have had a lot of money, but they’d had a lot of fun...had spent a lot of time together. He wished—
Don’t be ridiculous. He’d had an enviable upbringing. It was the height of folly and ingratitude to wish for more.
They read the novels they’d packed. He kept watch when she dozed to make sure she remained covered by the umbrella’s shade. With her fair skin she needed to be careful. Staring out at the beach, at white sand and palm trees and an emerald lagoon barely ruffled by a breeze, he let out a long slow breath that had felt caught up beneath his ribs since... He blinked. Since forever.
‘What are you thinking about?’
He turned to find those golden eyes of hers watching him, and shrugged. ‘I was thinking you were right.’
She nodded with great dignity. ‘Yes, I usually am.’ And then spoiled the effect by laughing. ‘Right about what?’
‘I should make time to do more of this.’
She sat up. ‘Really?’
It took every ounce of willpower he had not to reach across, curve a hand around the back of her head and drag her lips to his. He forced his gaze away. ‘This—’ he gestured around ‘—has been perfect. I can’t remember a time I’ve ever felt this relaxed.’ And happy? ‘I thought—’ He broke off with a grimace.
‘What did you think?’
Her voice was soft, and there was no judgment in her eyes. He didn’t make a habit of confiding in anyone, but he found himself wanting to confide in her. Some instinct told him she could be trusted with each and every one of his secrets.
She’s a business colleague, not a friend.
But she felt like a friend.
‘I thought I might find today difficult. I thought it might be hard to relax, to forget about work...to do nothing.’
She nodded as if his words didn’t surprise her. ‘But you haven’t?’
‘No.’ He frowned. It’d been easy—preposterously easy—not onerous in the slightest.
‘And you think that’s a bad thing?’
‘No.’ And maybe that was the most surprising thing of all. ‘It feels like it’s doing me good.’ He mulled that over for a moment. ‘Maybe taking a bit of time out isn’t as self-indulgent as I thought.’
‘Maybe it’s necessary.’
He scooped up a handful of sand and watched it trickle through his fingers. ‘I’m making changes when I go home.’
Her slow smile filled him with warmth, and something else—optimism. If she moved to New York—if she sold Beach Monday to MA and took up the designer’s position he’d offered—they could see a whole lot more of each other. Maybe they could date. He’d never wanted to regularly date a woman before, had actively avoided it, but being with Christy felt like being alive. He didn’t want to lose that just yet.
Not that anything could happen until their negotiations here were at an end. It’d be foolish to jeopardise those. Something inside him hardened. And he refused to allow anyone to draw parallels between his behaviour and his father’s. He was no womaniser, and he couldn’t think of an uglier way to coerce someone into doing business with him than seducing them and playing on their emotions. He’d never do that. Not to anyone, and certainly not to Christy.
‘What changes?’ she prompted, snapping him back. ‘More beach days? Where’s your nearest beach?’
‘Coney Island, but we have a place in the Hamptons. I could slip away for the odd weekend every now and again.’
‘Absolutely! You shouldn’t let a place like that go to waste.’
She was right. ‘I’m going to try and fit some leisure time into my working week. My job demands a certain amount of flexibility, and long hours, but it doesn’t mean I can’t fit in a visit to a gallery or the theatre, or to have a hot dog in Central Park.’
‘Sounds perfect.’
He folded his arms and did his best to sound stern. ‘You need to fit some of those things into your schedule too, Christy.’
‘Well, now... Central Park is a bit more of a hike for me and—’
‘You know what I mean. You’ve spent eight years working and studying without a single holiday. And then you’ve spent the last two years setting up a brand-new business. It’s no wonder your creativity had taken a hiatus.’
‘It’s hard to find the time and the objectivity when you’re in the midst of the chaos, when it feels as if every minute counts or that you should make it count. But a breather really does help.’ She chewed her lip, but mischief sparked from her eyes. ‘I wonder if I could write off a day at Bondi Beach as a tax expense?’
He laughed, staring up at the perfect blue of the sky. ‘It’s official, we should make you Supreme Ruler of the World.’
When he glanced back he found her staring at the broad expense of his chest and the hunger that stretched across her face had his hand clenching about his bottle of water. It crackled and she jumped, breaking the moment.
You’re not here to seduce her!
He was here to prove that hitching her wagon to MA’s star was the sensible thing to do.
‘I think—’ She cleared her throat, as if parched. ‘I think I need another dip. Coming?’
The water in the lagoon was warm when he needed it to be icy cold, but physical exertion would help. He could swim across from one side of the lagoon to the other—that should help wear him out.
Instead he found himself floating on his back, staring up at the sky and playing Christy’s cloud game.
She pointed. ‘That one looks like a dolphin.’
He tried to focus. ‘That one looks like a plane. A wobbly plane,’ he added as the cloud moved and changed.
‘That one over there looks like a daffodil.’
They both lowered their arms at the same time and somehow their arms became entwined. He couldn’t move away—he wasn’t that strong. He wanted to be touching her. Christy slipped her hand inside his. ‘Jamie?’
He could barely find his voice. ‘Yeah?’
‘Thank you for today. It’s been a perfect day. One of the best days ever.’
He wished he could give her a hundred such days. He opened his mouth to say as much, and then closed it again. It was the kind of thing a friend would say—a lover—not a business colleague.
‘You were going to say something?’
She was attuned to him in the same way he was attuned to her, so it shouldn’t surprise him that she’d noticed. ‘I was, but I thought better of it.’
‘Why?’
If he didn’t answer, she wouldn’t press him. ‘It feels as if I’m walking a fine line between saying something and having it sound like I’m pressuring you to make your business decision in my favour.’
‘In MA’s favour,’ she corrected gently. ‘You and MA are not the same entity.’
He was starting to recognise that fact. Not that it changed anything. He had a responsibility to both MA and his family name.
‘If we were just two people enjoying each other’s company at the beach, what would you say?’ she persisted.
His heart pounded so hard he was amazed a tidal wave didn’t form beneath him. ‘I wouldn’t say, I’d do. I’d kiss you, Christy. Like I’ve wanted to kiss you ever since I saw you standing in the foyer looking like every dream vision of a beach girl that I’ve ever had. I’d tell you that not touching you is starting to hurt. But if it’s a choice between being near you and not touching or not being near you, I’d choose the former.’
Her grip on his hand tightened until it was a stranglehold. She muttered something incoherent and then she pitched upright. He did too, and they stood in chest-deep water staring at each other and breathing hard. She reached out a hand, planting it on his chest, and the contact had him sucking in a breath. He held himself so taut he almost shook.
Her lips parted, her hunger blatant. She didn’t try to hide it. ‘Here’s what I think. I think that for the rest of today—and tonight—we should pretend that we’re just two people enjoying each other’s company and nothing more. Everything that happens today has no bearing or impact on our business negotiations next week. Deal?’
Everything inside him clenched up hard. Could they do it? His whole life had been bound up in duty and obligation. Was it wrong of him to want to reach out and take something just for himself? Hunger, need, and desire wrestled inside him with an intensity born of having been kept chained for too long. He’d never wanted anything more in his life than to take Christy home to his apartment and make love with her. Again and again. Until they were exhausted and sated.
To hell with the consequences! ‘Today and tomorrow,’ he demanded, his voice a harsh rasp. He craved a night with this woman—and another whole day of holiday recklessness before returning to reality. They both deserved it. They’d earned it. And he’d pamper her so lavishly she wouldn’t be able to find it in herself to regret it.
Her chest rose and fell. ‘Today and tomorrow,’ she agreed.
He didn’t hesitate then; slipping an arm around her waist, he pulled her flush against him, her softness pressed against his hardness making his head spin.
The hitch of her breath, the way her hands moved across his chest had his libido hitting warp speed. Her lips lifted to greet his, and there was nothing tentative or hesitant in the meeting of their mouths. It flung him out of himself and into a world filled with a million points of light that dazzled and delighted, and pulled him closer and closer to a fire that threatened to consume him.
He lifted his head to drag a breath of air into oxygen-starved lungs. If they weren’t careful they’d lose control. And they were in a public place.
Very gently he eased away. Christy splashed water onto her face. ‘Wow.’ Her voice wobbled. ‘Intense much?’
‘Off the Richter scale.’
He felt he’d been waiting forever to make love to this woman. Which was crazy when he’d only known her a week. But another few hours of waiting wouldn’t hurt. And if they did, it’d be in a good way—the kind of way that had anticipation building between them. Besides, it seemed only fair to give her the chance to change her mind. But whenever their gazes met, he knew she had no intention of changing her mind.
So they horsed around—splashing and dunking each other—careful to keep their touching light and almost innocent, but unable not to touch.
He kept to the plan he’d so carefully worked out the previous day. When the afternoon lengthened, he took her to one of the beach bars for a cocktail and to people watch.
‘This is as much of the day as I had planned,’ he said. They’d changed out of their wet swimsuits and she wore a pair of cute plaid capris and flip-flops with a big yellow flower on top that matched the daisies on her sunhat. As cute as it all looked on her, he wanted to tear it off to reveal the naked flesh beneath. And he wanted to touch every inch of that flesh with his hands and his tongue.
He had a feeling she could read that thought in his eyes when she lifted her hair off her nape and fanned her face. ‘So you were just going to play it footloose and fancy-free for the rest of the day? How daring of you.’
Her eyes twinkled and her mouth lifted into an irrepressible smile and he imagined the sounds that would emerge from those tempting lips when he—
‘Jamie!’
With a cough, he dragged himself back to the moment. ‘Yes. Absolutely. Playing it by ear. If you want to stay and have dinner we can. There’s music and dancing a little later too.’
‘I’m hungry, Jamie, but not for food. Maybe we could do all of that next Saturday.’
Everything inside him clenched at her unmistakable message. ‘The other option then,’ he managed to get out, ‘is we can leave and head back to the apartment now.’
‘Excellent idea.’
Her gaze was fixed on his mouth and he stood before he lost his head and kissed her. The next time he kissed her, he didn’t want to stop. Taking her hand, he led her out of the beach bar towards the boardwalk.
They caught the bus to the railway station. It was standing room only on the train, but he didn’t mind. Christy stood so close—her back to his front—that whenever the train lurched or jolted her backside would brush against his groin. It gave him an excuse to slip an arm about her waist and hold her there. He relished every moment of the journey.
By the time they reached the foyer of their apartment building, he was on fire. He pushed the button for the lift and then pushed it again and again. As soon as the lift doors closed behind them, he dragged her into his arms and kissed her. The heat they generated was combustible. He burned so badly with his need for her he could barely think straight.
<
br /> ‘My floor is closer,’ she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and biting gently on his earlobe.
‘But the condoms are in my apartment,’ he murmured against her lips, smiling at her gasp when he brushed a sly thumb across her left nipple.
The lift door opened and he thanked whatever gods were looking down on them that the corridor was clear. He herded her down the hallway, pressed her back against the door to kiss her thoroughly again—because he couldn’t not touch her—while fumbling with his keys.
The door swung open before he managed to get the key in the lock and they’d have both fallen if he hadn’t wrapped an arm about Christy’s waist and braced his other against the doorjamb. What the hell...?
He glanced up, heat haze shimmering in front of his eyes. When he blinked it away he found his mother’s cool eyes travelling over both him and Christy, and the probably faintly ridiculous tableau they presented. And for the moment he hated her for marring a memory he’d always hold dear, for making it seem small and silly.
Carefully, he righted Christy. It was Christy who deserved his care and respect in this scenario, but his mother didn’t deserve such bitterness either. ‘Christy, I’d like you to meet my mother, Denise Cooper-Ford. Mother, this is Christy Minslow.’
What the hell was his mother doing here? It was an effort to force his lips into the semblance of a smile. ‘This is a surprise. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.’
* * *
‘That much is evident, James.’
Jamie’s mother didn’t sneer, but she didn’t smile either. It was all Christy could do to keep her chin from dropping, and to not hide her face in Jamie’s shirt. Swallowing, she shook the cool imperious hand that was held out to her and then had to resist the farcical urge to drop a curtsy while she was about it.
Stop being ridiculous! Try and get your brain working again, please, Christy.
It was insanely difficult to think when her body continued to burn from Jamie’s touch and his kisses. Denise Cooper-Ford gave off an arctic chill but for a moment not even that could help. But then some of the fog cleared and Christy could finally see the other woman a little more clearly and things inside her clenched.
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