Stripped

by Nicola Marsh

  If I wasted my time and energy fighting for Casper and our empty relationship, I’m certainly willing to do whatever it takes to convince Hart we’re meant to be.

  ‘Come upstairs, for a minute.’ I tug on his hand, more insistently this time.

  He stares at me for an eternity, his eyes inscrutable. ‘I can’t—’

  ‘You owe me that much.’

  ‘Fuck.’ He wrenches his gaze away and stares over my shoulder, indecision twisting his mouth.

  When he doesn’t make a move to leave I squeeze his hand. ‘Come on. It won’t take long.’

  It’s too early for relief, not until I see this through until the end, but at least we climb those interminable stairs to our room, where I’ve left my stuff including my laptop.

  When we enter the room I release his hand and wish I could take a quick swig from the minibar for fortitude.

  He doesn’t sit and I don’t either as I fire up my laptop on the desk in the corner.

  ‘Whatever you’re doing, Daisy, it won’t work—’

  ‘Shut up and look at this.’

  I swivel the screen towards him and type furiously for a moment, bringing up the relevant information.

  Then I let him look and read and absorb.

  I hear a muttered, ‘Fuck,’ followed by, ‘When did you do all this?’

  ‘On Gem Island, after our last meeting.’ Buoyed by the wonder in his eyes, I continue. ‘I could tell you’d never budge on your stance to stay out of the limelight, despite the fact you’re a PR dream to tie in the resort with your kids’ holiday programme, so I agreed to do it your way. But I knew melding both our visions had potential and came up with this. What do you think?’

  ‘But it must’ve taken you hours...’ He shakes his head, unable to tear his gaze from the screen.

  ‘I didn’t sleep.’ I shrug like it means little when in reality it means everything. ‘I wanted to show you what happens when we compromise.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because we’re great together, professionally and personally.’ I take a deep breath and blow it out. ‘I wanted to prove to you that I listen. That I take everything you say on board. That I make informed decisions. That even when I fear I’m not good enough and the doubts creep in, I’m still willing to keep the faith and invest in something worth believing in.’

  He’s frowning, staring at me with blatant wariness. ‘What are you saying?’

  ‘That I’m just as vulnerable as you, that I’ve had to overcome my own fears of unworthiness even to be here again after the way you ended things on the island. And I’ve heard everything you’ve said, now and down at the skate park. And my decision is you.’ I step towards him and lay my hand on his chest, over his heart. ‘I choose you.’

  Shock renders him immobile and he gapes, before shaking his head. ‘I’m no good for you—’

  I fling myself at Hart, cutting off his words by plastering my mouth to his. He half pushes me away but then he’s kissing me back, hot and deep and frantic.

  He backs me up until my butt hits the desk and cups my ass so I can do a little leap and wrap my legs around his waist.

  I hang on tight as our tongues duel, slow, sensual sweeps that make me moan. He’s consuming me, like he can’t get enough. I know the feeling well.

  When he wrenches his mouth from mine, we’re breathing hard, my butt is sore from perching on the sharp edge of the desk and my thighs have cramped where they’re clasped around his waist.

  I don’t care. He’s a man of few words so the fact he’s still here and kissing me means more than anything he can say. At least, I hope it is, and that wasn’t a stupendously hot goodbye kiss.

  I lower my legs and he helps me into a standing position, then takes my hand and walks to the sofa. He sits and tugs me down next to him. We’re holding hands but he can’t look at me and my hopes plummet.

  ‘I need to tell you a bunch of stuff and I need you to listen,’ he murmurs, his voice barely above a croak.

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘When my dad gave up on me, I was devastated and ended up pushing people away first before they hurt me. Pa never gave up on me but you’re right, I never truly let him in...and I have to live with that regret every single fucking day.’ He’s staring at some folksy print of the Harbour Bridge on the far wall, but not really seeing it, his eyes glazed with pain. ‘I don’t know if I’m capable of love, let alone giving a woman like you what you need.’

  Blinking back tears, I say, ‘What do you think I need?’

  ‘Everything.’ His head falls forward and I bite my bottom lip to stop the sobs threatening to spill out.

  ‘There’s only one thing I really need and that’s you.’

  I can’t stem the tears any longer and they trickle down my cheeks.

  ‘Fuck, don’t cry, not because of me.’ He bundles me into his arms and I let go, the sobs bubbling up from deep within, wave after wave until I’m drained and clinging to him.

  I eventually quieten and he eases back, his expression stricken, his eyes dark with pain.

  ‘I will hurt you,’ he says. ‘I will push you away and be grumpy and be a total asshole, because I’m so fucking scared you’ll leave me and that will kill me...’ He clears his throat and his eyes, those beautiful eyes, fill with tears. ‘Because for the first time in my life I think I know what love is.’

  The ache in my chest expands until I’m filled with it. Hope.

  ‘I haven’t slept much so I don’t think this is a dream, but just in case...’ I pinch him on the arm, hard.

  ‘Ow. Easy, babe, that’ll leave a bruise.’ His hands slide down my arms, up my waist, up my torso, over my shoulders, where they come to rest, his touch light.

  He stares at me for an eternity, like he’s trying to memorise my features. ‘Did you hear what I said?’

  ‘I heard. And for the record, I get it. You push people away as a protective mechanism and it’s so ingrained you can’t shake it.’ My fingertips graze his cheek. ‘I’m sorry that you didn’t get the chance to truly open up to your grandfather. And I hate all the horrors you had to endure growing up. But I’m here. I love you. And I won’t leave you.’

  He stiffens, his neck muscles protruding. ‘You’re insane to love someone like me.’

  I grin like a lunatic. ‘Yeah, I am, crazy in love.’

  ‘Fuck me,’ he mutters, but his lips curl into a soft smile that wipes years off his face. ‘I guess that’s okay because I think I love you too.’

  My heart leaps and my stomach goes into free fall. ‘Not exactly a rousing endorsement but I’ll take it.’

  His expression is dazed, like he’s just woken up, and he shakes his head. ‘I never thought you’d take a chance on an emotionally stunted asshole that has done everything in his power to push you away since we first met.’

  ‘You’re not emotionally stunted,’ I deadpan.

  He grins at my quip. ‘You know, during all the time I hung out with foster kids, during all my travels, even during the good times with Pa, I never felt as comfortable as I do with you.’

  He blinks but he can’t hide the tenderness that almost undoes me. ‘You’re truly unique, Daisy, because I don’t want to run from you.’ He thumps his chest with one hand. ‘In here. For the first time ever, I want to take a risk on someone, because I feel...safe when I’m with you, and that has never, ever happened before.’

  Of course I blubber again. I can’t help myself, as tears leak out of my eyes.

  ‘So I’ll make a deal with you. I won’t push you away any more, and I’ll love you as best I can, if you promise to tell me if you’re not happy or if you want out.’ He clasps my chin and eyeballs me. ‘I need to know if you want to leave me.’

  ‘Deal,’ I murmur, burying my face in his chest and wrapping my arms tight around his waist.

  He hugs me b
ack and we sit there, locked in our first purely honest embrace.

  The first of many.

  EPILOGUE

  Hart

  I TAKE DAISY’S hand as we step onto the beach. It reminds me of the first time I offered her my hand on this very spot seven months ago.

  ‘Who would’ve thought my emotional recluse would have a romantic streak a mile long?’ She swings our linked hands, her expression pure mischief. ‘I mean, there’s only so many dusk walks along the perfect beach a girl can take.’

  ‘You love it,’ I say, enjoying our banter now as much as I did when we met.

  ‘And you love checking out your handiwork.’

  She knows me too well. Since the holiday programme for foster kids launched a week ago, we’ve taken a stroll along the beach every night at this time, so I can check on the first batch of visitors.

  Daisy has accused me of being like an overprotective father but I can’t help it. I want the best for these kids because they deserve a break.

  It took months to renovate the old villas, which gave Daisy time to launch our campaign in spectacular fashion. I even let her use several shots of me so I’m the unofficial poster boy for this. The response has been overwhelming and the Gem Island Kids Vacation Club is booked solid for the next eighteen months. So many families and kids craving a slice of paradise and a break from their daily drudgery, even for an all too brief week.

  ‘Don’t you mean our handiwork?’ I drop a peck on her cheek. ‘I couldn’t have done all this without you.’

  ‘BS and you know it. You did this.’ She pats my chest over my heart. ‘Straight from here.’

  ‘We did it,’ I reaffirm, enjoying being part of a team for once in my life.

  The terror that I’ll eventually lose her hasn’t left me. I don’t think it ever will because it’s as much a part of me as those damn knife scars.

  But I’m getting better. With each passing day that I wake up to see her smiling face on the pillow next to me, the fear is abating. I can live with it. I can’t live without her.

  ‘Come on, you sentimental thing.’ She tugs on my hand and we fall into step; in sync, in love, so damn much it hurts.

  As we near the end of the beach I hear kids’ laughter and it’s the sweetest sound ever. There’s a bunch of them, about fourteen of varying ages, playing cricket in the garden behind the villas where they back onto the beach.

  I hear good-natured ribbing and more laughter, and damned if I don’t want to cry.

  ‘You did good,’ she says, sliding her arm around my waist. ‘And I love you, every big-hearted, generous inch of you.’

  Her complete and utter devotion makes me want to cry more, so I dip my head to whisper in her ear, ‘I have some very generous inches waiting for you to appreciate when we get to the cave.’

  ‘Sex maniac.’ She laughs and snuggles in tighter.

  ‘Yeah, but I’m your sex maniac, for however long you want.’

  ‘How about for ever?’

  ‘Sounds like a plan.’

  My voice breaks a little and she knows, the sheen in her eyes as we lock gazes telling me that maybe, just maybe, I can believe in for ever, with her.

  * * *

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  Sweet as Sin

  by J. Margot Critch

  CHAPTER ONE

  ALEX FISCHER LEANED back and spread his arms along the back of the couch and scanned the nightclub around him. There were hundreds of gorgeous women in high heels and short dresses, flawless makeup and hair, and his hopes for the evening were high. Peeling his gaze away from the crowded dance floor, he looked at his friend Gabe, who sat across from him in the VIP area of Swerve nightclub, and poured them each a couple of fingers of bourbon.

  “Thanks,” Alex said, taking his, leaning in so Gabe could hear him over the music. “This couch used to be a lot more crowded,” he said, referring to their buddies Brett and Rafael, who used to join them at their nightclub, carousing, drinking, club-hopping, hooking up with women. Since they had met their women and fallen in love, they hadn’t joined them in the activities of the young, rich, good-looking single man.

  “Yeah,” Gabe said, and snickered. “Now that Brett and Raf are sufficiently neutered, it seems like it’s just you and me. And Alana, when we can pull her away from Di Terrestres.”

  Alex brought his glass to his lips and sipped the fine spirit as Gabe reached into his breast pocket and withdrew his phone.

  “Oh hell,” Gabe muttered, reading the screen of his phone.

  “Anything wrong?”

  “Oh nothing. Just one of my clients having a crisis at—” he checked his watch “—nine fifteen on a Friday
night.”

  “You’re on the clock?”

  “Aren’t we always?”

  Alex frowned. “I thought we were hanging out.”

  “So did I,” Gabe told him, taking one more wistful look around the club. “But I have to take care of this tonight. I’ll text you tomorrow.” When Alex stood, Gabe held his hand out. “Why don’t you stick around? Enjoy the booth, finish the bourbon, find someone to share it with you. No sense in it going to waste.” He gestured to the dance floor with a nod of his chin. “Get into a little trouble,” he said with a wink.

  “Maybe I will,” Alex agreed, sitting back on the leather banquette. He could take Gabe’s advice and get into some trouble, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to do it on his own. He scrolled through the mental list of his closest friends, the rest of The Brotherhood. The five of them had formed the group out of college. With similar goals of running the Las Vegas business and nightlife scene, they’d realized that they were stronger as a unit and had joined forces, using their own specialties to bring them all to the top. It was Alana, the only female member of the group, who’d come up with the name, as a nod to the legends of secret societies of the powerful and wealthy throughout the country. While neither Alex nor his friends donned robes and performed rituals, The Brotherhood worked together to run their tied businesses and make decisions as a group.

  Once driven by power and success, it seemed like each member of The Brotherhood was finding true love, settling down, getting married, blah, blah, blah... So Brett and Rafael were both at home with their women; Alana working at their club, Di Terrestres, even though they’d hired managers; and Gabe had just bowed out of partying in favor of work.

  They were growing up, and as they pressed onward into their thirties, a part of him yearned for the old days. But every night, while Brett and Raf went home to their gorgeous partners, Alex still went home to his cold, empty condo, which overlooked Las Vegas Boulevard. All the revelry below did not match the sullen loneliness of his thirty-six-hundred square feet in the sky. Alex looked around the packed club, at the women in their minuscule dresses, gyrating, bumping and grinding against one another on the dance floor. More than one cast interested looks in his direction as he sat alone on the VIP couch. Maybe a little “trouble” was exactly what he needed.