by Kris Pearson
He stood beside her, itching to bend closer to inhale her scent. “Yep – the old cottage had one bathroom, and another really basic one tacked onto the back porch. This’ll be brilliant when the family’s all here. No queues and no arguments.”
“Except between you and me about who’s having the bed.” She tapped a jeweled finger on the plan. “That one. My bathroom, my wardrobe.”
“Okay. Your bathroom. I guess you have soap or body-wash for the shower?” He reached out for the toilet rolls and handed her one, trying to keep a straight face.
Mei took it, placed it carefully on the counter, then leaned her elbows down and buried her head in her hands. “It’s just sinking in, what I’ve done,” she said, hiding her face from him behind her curtain of hair.
“Had to happen, though.” He placed an awkward arm around her shoulders and pulled her in for a hug. “Sooner or later. Better it’s sooner.”
Better it’s now. Better it’s with me. Better we get our chance at last – after all those years your dad kept me away from you.
Chapter Four – Bedrooms
She shot him a ‘keep-off’ glance. Would have loved to stay there, pressed against his warm, hard side, but they had to get through two nights in the house together, and it was going to be tough enough to keep her distance as it was.
“So I’ll take my stuff in there,” she said, easing away from him. “Then we can do some more furniture. You want to put that dinner-set box on the counter if you think I can’t lift it?”
“Six-pound weakling,” he teased, going to search for it.
Mei hid a grin and huffed out her obviously expected outrage, then turned to gather up a couple of the big plastic bags of her belongings. “Where are you putting the bed?”
“First on the left is Mum and Dad. You’re very welcome…?”
“So it’s good I chose the opposite side, down the end.”
“Of course you did.” His big smile made her feel ten years old as she dragged the bags behind her over the smooth floor and then returned for the others. At least having everything packed on hangers would make it easy to stow her clothes. She turned, and almost collided with him in the doorway. Or almost collided with a three-drawer bedside chest being carried in a pair of long and totally touchable arms.
She reared back, trying to keep her distance from those bulging muscles and all that golden skin. Trying to stop her traitorous fingers from reaching toward him, if she was honest with herself. Oliver Wynn was one hell of a man now. Overpoweringly masculine. Big and brawny and strong. He could snap her in two far more easily than Kieran, but she had none of the sick sense of fear she’d sometimes felt when she’d been alone with Kieran after a few drinks.
e made it look effortlessH
He set the chest down and moved it against the wall. “Something for all your pretty stuff.” His dark brown eyes sought hers. “As far as I can see, each single bed or set of bunks gets one, each king bed gets two. They’ve sent all the chests but no kids’ beds or mattresses for the bunks.”
Mei looked away from his penetrating gaze and pulled the top drawer open. It ran smoothly. When she pushed it back in, it slid to a slow, soft close. Even for a beach house it seemed the Wynn family bought the best. From the corner of her eye she saw Ollie nodding his approval.
“Hopefully that’ll stop anyone slamming drawers and waking everyone else up early,” he said. “The old cottage was filled with everyone’s leftovers. Total rubbish, most of it.” He pulled the big wardrobe doors wide open. More drawers had been built in at the base. “Use whatever suits you,” he added, turning away. “I’ll spread the others around if you unpack the plates when you’re ready.”
She watched him turn and leave. Long legs, narrow hips, broad shoulders and those beautiful arms that had her fingers twitching, wanting to touch. Arms she could finally have wrapped around her if only things were different.
But she knew Ollie had no idea what they were facing. The seething, never-ending vitriol from her father toward his. The differences in perceived status and wealth. And more importantly, the cultural divide. Even if she was ‘as Kiwi as it comes’, her background was nothing like his.
She needed to be wary. Careful. Cautious. To somehow keep her distance.
That ‘somehow’ was the kicker.
Everyone else wanted to arrange her life. Her parents and brothers. Kieran for sure. Even kind Anna. But until her mother’s health was resolved and her father’s future settled, there was no way Mei could give an inch, or allow herself the life she craved.
Shaking her head, she quickly hung her clothes in the wardrobe and stowed her lingerie in the drawers, biting her lip to hold in her emotions. Nothing was quite fair, and right now nothing could be changed.
She stepped into the attached bathroom. Luxurious – with shining white tile on the walls, matt black tile on the floor and a choice of shower heads. She gave a wry smile; the Wynns had built with no expense spared – for a house that would be lived in only part-time. It was another world to the one she’d grown up in.
After taking a few minutes to arrange her cosmetics and toiletries on the broad vanity top, she returned to the sun-flooded main living area. Ollie was unwrapping dining chairs, carefully cutting tape and then ripping away the paper and plastic covering.
“Found another coffee table, I think,” he said, indicating a big carton. “Okay in that corner, you reckon?”
Mei looked across at the relaxed arrangement and nodded. “People can move it where they want,” she said, imagining his family clustered around – the way her own had rarely managed. The shop hours were long, the food prep time ate into what was left, and her hard-working parents seemed to have no concept of leisure. She and her brothers were pushed to study, spending hours in their cramped rooms with books and homework. Hopefully now her nephews were starting to walk the family might relax a little and go forward with the new generation.
She said a swift, silent prayer for respite for her mother as she padded into the kitchen. It was so unfair – their struggle to live in a new country, to try and fit into the community, to work every possible hour, hadn’t brought visible rewards. Even after thirty years they’d not left China far behind.
Ollie had lifted two boxes onto the counter and Mei found they held a total of twelve dinner settings. There were several more boxes of wine glasses and juice tumblers. All new, all quality. And at least twice the normal number of knives and forks and spoons. She began opening doors and drawers, planning where things would best fit, then picked up the box cutter and started work. It was entirely too easy to imagine she was setting up home with Ollie and that these were all their beautiful possessions.
“So, without sofas,” he said, breaking into her thoughts, “we should do that TV program thing where they take a chance and marry someone they’ve never met before – cushions down the middle of the bed as a barrier until they get to know each other. I promise I won’t jump you.”
Mei’s eyes shot wide open. No way in hell. And yet…
It was suddenly too easy to imagine herself next to him, drawn by the heat of his body and its undeniable magnetism… rolling over just a little, making ‘accidental’ contact, and ending up in his arms.
“Sure,” she said, not looking at him, but letting her tone tell him what she thought of that idea while deep inside hot little flutters danced and jiggled. “Didn’t think you’d watch stuff like that,” she needled.
She somehow kept a straight face as Ollie claimed, “Of course I don’t, but some of the women at work can’t shut up about it.”
“Mm-hmmmm….” She drew it out into a long suggestion of disbelief.
He changed the topic quickly. “Can you help me keep the bed upright while I slide it into the bedroom?”
She grinned to herself and folded an emptied box down flat to add to her pile for recycling. The flutters would have to wait. “How would you have managed if you were on your own?”
He narrowed his eyes. “I
’d have done fine, but why take the chance of damaging the new walls if I can make use of you to hold it steady?” He held out his hand for the box cutter and attacked the end of the first big bag. Together they heaved the box-spring across the living area and into the bedroom and Mei stood watching the play of muscles across his massive back and shoulders as he screwed in the castor feet. They lowered it down – Ollie taking ninety percent of the weight and Mei ensuring it didn’t contact the wall.
“Good size,” Ollie said, throwing himself sideways and stretching out on it. “But too hard without the mattress. Plenty of room for both of us?” He raised a hopeful eyebrow and held her gaze with his. “Think about it, anyway. If we get the mattress in here we can make the bed up. There’s a big bag with sheets and pillows. And at least one more full of towels.”
Mei couldn’t tear her eyes away. There he lay – temptingly close – all six feet plus of relaxed hot man, hands behind his head, dark hair in his armpits, with just a shadow of it at the neck of his tank. His tanned arms were taut with muscle and sinew. She had a sudden urge to bite his bicep – to sink her teeth into that smooth, plump cushion. The beautiful boy was now a spectacular man and playing havoc with her resistance. “What does the tattoo say?” she demanded, desperate for a distraction.
Ollie tucked his tongue into his cheek. “You’ll have to wait until bedtime. I’m not stripping off for you now.” His lips quirked. “Unless you’re doing the same?”
A hot shiver ran right down Mei’s spine at the thought. “You could just tell me the words?” she snapped, forcing herself to turn away and return to the living room.
“Ammunition,” Ollie said, following close behind her. “The only thing I have to tease you with.”
“Not the only thing,” Mei said, biting the side of her cheek to stop herself saying more.
“Yeah?” Ollie is interested gaze roamed over her breasts and shoulders, and up to her no doubt blushing face.
She managed a shrug. “You changed a lot since you were a boy.”
“I should bloody hope so,” he muttered. “There was plenty of room for improvement.”
This was so hard for her. Mei took a determined breath. “When I saw you at the wedding I might have done a little gasp,” she said, trying for a flip, insouciant tone. “You got tall and grown-up. And of course you were dressed for the occasion. No man looks bad in a suit.”
“And that’s it?” Now his caramel eyes were darker, pupils huge, gaze intense.
She shook her head, knowing there was so much more. “Oliver, I can’t. I’m one day away from a man who hit me. It’s going to take some time to get over that.”
Ollie’s gaze grew even sharper if that was possible. “So you admit it now – he did hit you?”
“I tripped once, trying to get away from him,” she muttered. “I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”
“Okay.” His hand came out and stroked her arm from shoulder to elbow. “Okay,” he repeated, pulling it away as she flinched. “One trip, but not the other times?”
Mei nodded mutely, feeling the tiny hairs on her upper arm stand up at his caress. “Not the other times,” she agreed. “But not many. I’m not so stupid I’d stick around for more. No kids to hold me there, and I make my own money. Unlike some of those poor women who can’t get away.”
They were silent as they hauled the mattress out of its bag and got it onto the base. Now it was a real bed, and Mei found it even harder to ignore him. As they smoothed the sheets out and slid pillows into pillowcases, the possibility of spending the night side-by-side grew both more frightening and more enticing.
Ollie cleared his throat and pulled another packet from the big pillows-and-linens bag. He tossed it across to her.
“Lightweight Feather-down Blanket,” she read, avoiding his eyes, and unsnapping the fastenings that held the pack closed. “Might be too hot.”
“And there’s this.” Ollie shook out a fleecy gray blanket with a design of white stars sprinkled all over it. “We won’t freeze.”
“Could overheat instead.” She tried to stifle a grin, but saw the instant he registered it.
His head tilted back as he laughed, and she watched the tendons in his neck stretch and saw the pattern his scruff made as it swirled under his chin and around his jaw. No longer the boy she’d once known. So far from that now.
Then he levelled his gaze on hers. “Meifeng Chan, you’re a hot little tease. I’ll be hard all night.”
Mei scrunched her eyes closed for a few seconds but there was no way she could un-see that picture.
Ollie headed for the doorway, laughing at her reaction, and as he passed her he reached out and touched her forearm, then ran his fingers up until they were buried in her long hair. Gathering a handful, he gave it a gentle tug as he left the room. “You ready to go to Cam and Jossy’s now?” he called over his shoulder. “Don’t forget Anna’s sweatshirt. There’s other stuff out in the garage for the kitchen, too. She bagged up the best of the serving utensils, pots and pans, and bowls and dishes from the old cottage.”
*
He relocked the door between the garage and the house. “Ever ridden pillion before?”
Mei shook her head, still on edge from his unthinking grip on her hair..
“Hang on around my waist. Press close against my back so you can feel when I’m leaning, and lean with me.” He unhooked the two silver helmets and pushed one toward her. “Want me to hold your hair up?”
Her eyebrows arched, and in an instant she’d gathered it into a high bunch and wound it around itself. Seemed the answer was ‘no’ on the hair.
He knew he shouldn’t have grabbed it in the bedroom, but ever since Cam and Jossy’s wedding, when he’d first seen it cascading around her in a shining jet torrent, he’d imagined touching it. Stroking it. Feeling it spilling over his chest.
He gave a bitter inward laugh as she grabbed the helmet from his outstretched hand and jammed it on. Dreams were free.
But seeing her so suddenly at the airfield that morning had only intensified his desire, and he’d been helpless to resist that one quick caress. The long strands were as thick and soft and warm as his imagination had told him they would be, even though he expected she’d have pulled a disapproving face at his retreating back.
He signaled for the garage door to open and eased his own helmet on, flipping the visor up so he could talk.
The light from the beach was blinding, bouncing off the sparkling water and the pale sand. The sudden ‘swoosh’ of a big wave breaking reminded him the surf was up in Scarlet Bay, but it was no contest between riding the waves and having Mei clinging to him on the back of the bike.
He’d thrown his leather bomber over the handlebars of the Moto Guzzi when they’d arrived from the airfield, and now he shrugged into the old jacket, zipped it part-way up, and pulled his gloves on before swinging a leg over the seat.
Mei stood hesitating, and he raised a hand to stop her while he maneuvered the bike backward and forward a couple of times until it faced the road. “Hop on,” he said once he had it running to his satisfaction.
She regarded the seat with suspicion. “Not much room.”
“Like I said, sit close and hang on to me. Think of us as one big person – and don’t try to fight gravity. Lean with the bike.”
With obvious reluctance she straddled the pillion seat so her thighs cradled his hips. He closed his eyes, feeling the warm press of her flesh against his. A sensation he’d imagined for all those years, but reality beat anything his brain had been able to conjure up. She was so close he could smell her again – her soft, exotic scent wrapped around him in a sensual mist, sending his desire into overdrive.
He moved out of the garage slowly, giving her time to become accustomed to the feel of the bike, signaling for the door to close, and watching in his mirrors to make sure it rolled down. Now the furniture and her possessions were inside he wanted everything safe. Then he turned in the opposite direction to the one she�
��d be expecting.
“Hey!” she yelled, digging him in the ribs. “Other way.”
He grinned to himself and yelled through the open visor, “Just giving you a slow run to get used to it before I pick up speed.” He slammed the visor down and moved out onto the road, taking it easy because on a fine Saturday people were wandering across with surfboards and picnic hampers, children could never be relied upon not to dash out unexpectedly, and retirees often took their time ambling along. He chugged along well to the side of the road so faster vehicles could go by if they wanted. Once he felt Mei starting to relax against him he accelerated, loving knowing it was her, and loving it even more when her hands slid further around his body as he increased the speed. On the open road he barreled along into the salty breeze and she clutched him tightly, pressed against him from thigh to beautiful breasts.
Eventually he slowed to a crawl and pulled over onto the shoulder, careful of the gravel surface there. Before he turned back in the direction of the beach settlement he pushed his visor up and twisted toward her. “Not too fast for you?” he yelled.
She pushed her own visor up and he caught the sparkle in her eyes. “Oliver, I go ten times this fast in my big planes.”
“Not so close to the ground though.”
She laughed, conceding the point to him.
“Yep – your Dreamliner goes around 950 kilometers an hour.”
“954 top speed. How did you know? Your little plane doesn’t go fast.”
He shook his head. “It’s my business to be familiar with all sorts of things like that. Because of my job.”
“Something with airliners, Anna said.”
“Aeronautical Maintenance Inspector, and I’m tough.”
She tilted her head and her helmet hit his. “Sorry!” she exclaimed, drawing back a little. “Of course you’re tough. You need to be. All those lives in your hands.” She pulled her visor down and Ollie took that as his cue to pick up speed again. At least she didn’t seem too bothered about being recognized any more, and in Anna’s sweatshirt, jeans, and full-face helmet she could have been anyone small and female.
