JUST ONE MORE NIGHT

by Fiona Brand

A heavy silence formed, the kind of waiting silence he had gotten all too used to with his own family.

  Elena sent him a frustrated look. “Trying to get information out of you is like talking to a sphinx.”

  “Seems to me I’ve heard that phrase somewhere before.”

  “Let me guess... Your sisters.” She tucked errant strands of hair behind one ear, revealing the three tiny blue-green jewels that sparkled like droplets of light in her lobe.

  “And the head inquisitor—my mom.” He steered around a curving lacework of rocks and reefs that partially enclosed the bay. “What, exactly, do you want to know?”

  She met his gaze squarely. “What you like to eat for breakfast, because we’ve never actually had breakfast together. Why you went into construction when the family business is banking, and...” She hesitated, her chin coming up. “What’s your idea of a romantic date?”

  “I like coffee and toast for breakfast, I went into construction because while I was disabled Dad taught me how to design and build a boat, and my favorite date is...anything to do with a yacht. Don’t you want to ask me about my relationship dysfunction?”

  “I intended to skirt around that question, but now that you’ve brought it up, why haven’t you ever been in a long-term relationship?”

  In the instant she asked the question, the answer was crystal clear to Nick. Because he had never quite been able to forget what it had felt like making love with Elena. Or that she had waited until she was twenty-two to make love, and then she had chosen him.

  His jaw clamped against the uncharacteristic urge to spill that very private, intimate revelation. “I’ve got a busy schedule.”

  “Not too busy to date, at last count, twenty-three girls in the last two years. That’s not quite one a month.”

  Fierce satisfaction filled him at the clear evidence that Elena was jealous. There could be no other reason for the meticulous investigation of his dating past. “That many?”

  Her gaze was fiery and accusing. “I thought it would be more.”

  He increased speed as the water changed color from murky green to indigo, signaling deep water and a cold ocean current. Against all the odds, he was suddenly enjoying the exchange. “You should stop reading the gossip columnists. Some of those so-called dates were business acquaintances or friends.”

  “Huh.”

  He suppressed a grin and the urge to pull Elena close, despite her prickly mood. Instead, he made an adjustment to the wheel. With no more rocks or reefs to navigate, and the bow pointed in the direction of the resort’s small marina, he could relax more. He found there was something oddly sweet about just being with Elena.

  Glancing down into the dining room below, he noted that Irvine was still sitting exactly where Nick had placed him, although his face was now an interesting shade of green.

  The conversation he’d had with Irvine replayed. It occurred to Nick that the reason he hadn’t been able to walk away from Elena this time was exactly the same reason Irvine needed to back up a step.

  Elena had changed over the years, even since their meeting in Cutler’s office in Auckland, morphing from the quiet, introverted girl who used to watch him from the beach into a fiery, exciting butterfly with a will of steel.

  His stomach tightened. She was gorgeous and fascinating. He could understand why Harold and Irvine had been dazzled, why she could keep a successful businessman like Robert Corrado on ice while she pursued her new career.

  If there had ever truly been anything soft or yielding about Elena, like her old image, it was long gone.

  Elena turned her head away from him, into the wind, the movement presenting him with the pure line of her profile and emphasizing her independence. After years of single life, it occurred to Nick that she was happy with her own company. Abruptly annoyed by that streak of independence, a strength that informed Nick that, as attracted as Elena was to him she didn’t need him in her life, he finally gave in to the urge to pull her close.

  She softened almost instantly, fitting easily into his side. Despite that, he was uneasily aware that something important was missing between them. That something was trust.

  He needed to come clean about the quiz and release her from the night she had forfeited.

  But that was a risk he wasn’t prepared to take. If he released Elena before he’d had a chance to bind her to him in the hours ahead, he wasn’t certain he would be able to convince her that she should refocus her attention.

  Away from Robert Corrado and onto him.

  * * *

  Elena, still uneasily aware of both Harold and Irvine, was more than happy to leave the yacht with her clients when they docked at the small jetty.

  With satisfaction, she noted both Irvine and Harold being ushered by Nick into a resort vehicle that appeared to also contain their luggage. The driver of the vehicle was one of the gardeners she’d noticed, a burly man who looked as though he had once been a boxer.

  Nick strolled alongside her as she entered the resort restaurant. Waiters were already circulating with trays of champagne and canapés. Lifting two flutes from a tray, he pressed one into her hand then began ushering her toward the door.

  “We’re leaving now?” she asked.

  “It is almost eight.”

  A small thrill of excitement shot through Elena. She had thought they might have dinner and maybe dance on the terrace, but Nick’s hurry to get her to himself was somehow more alluring than a slow, measured seduction.

  And technically their bargain terminated at midnight. Her stomach clenched at the thought of four hours alone with Nick. “Uh—what about dinner?”

  He stopped, his hand on the doorknob. “We can get room service. Although, if you’d prefer to stay here for dinner, we can do that.”

  His expression was oddly neutral, his voice clipped. If she didn’t know Nick better, she would think that eating here and losing time alone together didn’t really matter, but she knew the opposite to be true, and in a flash she got him.

  Nick was utterly male. Naturally, he didn’t like emotion, and in the world he moved, showing any form of emotion would be deemed a weakness. She knew that much from working with both Lucas and Zane Atraeus. The only time they truly relaxed was when they were with their families.

  Carla and Lilah had made comments that when their men felt the most, they closed up even more. Getting actual words out of them was like squeezing blood out of the proverbial stone.

  Carla and Lilah had been describing Lucas and Zane, but the description also fit Nick.

  Her heart pounded at a breakthrough that put a different slant on some of the starkest moments in her relationship with Nick and made sense of his extreme reaction to his father’s death. Nick walked away, not because he didn’t care, but because he cared too much. “I don’t need to eat.”

  “I was hoping you would say that.”

  She took a hurried gulp of the fizzy champagne so it wouldn’t spill as they walked. The walkway was smooth enough, but with the shadowy shapes of palms and thick tropical plantings plunging parts of it into deep shadow it would be easy to stumble. She took another sip and noticed the moon was up. “I’m for room service.”

  His quick grin made her stomach flip. She hadn’t thought the night would be fun. She’d thought it would be too fraught with the tensions that seemed to be a natural part of their relationship.

  The fact that she was applying the term “relationship” to herself and Nick sent a small, effervescent thrill shimmering all the way to her toes. Finally, after years of being stalled, and just when she had thought all was lost, they were finally in an actual relationship. She felt like hugging him, she felt like dancing—

  “Okay, what’s going on?”

  Nick was eyeing her with caution, which made her feel even more giddily happy, because it was clear he had n
oted what she was feeling. He was reading her mood.

  There was only one reason for that to happen. He was concerned about her happiness; he was beginning to care.

  It wasn’t love, yet, but they were definitely getting closer. “I’m...” She suppressed the dangerous, undisciplined urge to blurt out that she was head over heels in love with him and had been for years. “I’m happy.”

  His gaze slid to the half-empty flute.

  Elena took a deep breath and tried to drag her gaze from the fascinating pulse beating on the side of his jaw. “It’s not the champagne.” She examined the pale liquid with its pretty bubbles and without regret tossed what was left into the depths of a leafy green shrub. “I don’t need champagne to spend the night with you.”

  To make gorgeous, tender, maybe even adventurous love with the man she loved.

  For a split second the night seemed to go still, the tension thick enough to cut. “You don’t have to sleep with me if you don’t want. The quiz was a spur-of-the-moment thing. I shouldn’t have—”

  “We have a bargain. You can’t back out.”

  Startlement registered in his expression. Relief flooded Elena. She had been desperately afraid he was going to release her from their deal. By her estimation the next few hours together were crucial. If they didn’t make love and dissolve the last frustrating, invisible barriers between them, they might never have another chance.

  In response, Nick reeled her in close with his free hand, fitting her tightly enough against him that she could feel his masculine arousal. “Does this feel like I’m backing out?”

  The breath hitched in her throat at the graphic knowledge that Nick very definitely wanted her. “No.”

  “Good, because I’m not.”

  He took the flute from her and set it down with his own on the arm of a nearby wooden bench. Taking her hand, he drew her down the short path to his cottage.

  The warm light from his porch washed over taut cheekbones and the solid line of his jaw as, without releasing her hand, he unlocked the door and pushed it wide.

  Instead of standing to one side to allow her to precede him, Nick stepped toward her. At first, Elena thought he wanted to kiss her, then the world spun dizzily as he swung her into his arms.

  Startled, Elena clutched at Nick’s shoulders as he stepped into the lit hall and kicked the door closed behind him. Seconds later he set her on her feet in the middle of a large room lit by the flicker of candles and smelling of flowers. Heart still pounding, and pleasure humming through her at a gesture that was traditionally shared by a bride and groom, Elena inhaled the perfume of lavish bunches of white roses.

  Nick took his cell out of his pocket and placed it on a workstation in a small alcove that also contained a laptop and a file. The small action made her intensely aware that, for the first time ever, she was in Nick’s personal quarters—not his home, because the resort cottage was only a temporary accommodation, but in his private space.

  Elena strolled to one of the vases of flowers.

  “Do you like them?”

  Throat tight with emotion, Elena touched a delicate petal with one fingertip. She was trying to be sensible and pragmatic, trying not to get her hopes too high, but she couldn’t not feel wonder and pleasure at the trouble Nick had gone to.

  Even though the room, with its candles and flowers, had most probably been staged by one of the resort professionals, it was still quite possibly the most romantic gesture any man had ever made. More wonderful than the traditional red roses Robert had sent to her. Even though she had been thrilled to receive the bouquet, thrilled at the fact that for the first time in her life she was being wooed, Robert’s dozen red roses hadn’t made her heart squeeze tight.

  Blinking back the moisture that seemed to be filling her eyes, she straightened. “I love white roses. How did you know?”

  “I got my PA to research what flowers you liked.” Nick picked up a remote from a low teak coffee table and pressed a button. A tango filled the air, sending an instant thrill down her spine and spinning her back to the steamy tango they had danced at Gemma’s wedding.

  Determinedly, she dismissed the small core of disappointment that had formed at the systematic, logical way Nick had selected the flowers for their night together. Using a PA was a very corporate solution. She should know; she had done similar personal tasks herself for her Atraeus bosses.

  Nick may not have personally known what flowers she liked, he may not have staged the room, but he had arranged it for her pleasure.

  She forced herself to move on from the flowers and examined the rest of the interior. Furnished with dark leather couches, low tables and exotic teak armoires, the stark masculinity was relieved by a pile of yachting books on a side table and an envelope of what looked like family snapshots.

  The family photos, some of which had slid out of the envelope, riveted her attention because they proved that Nick loved his family, that at a bedrock level, relationships were vitally important to him.

  She sensed Nick’s approach a moment before he turned her around and drew her into his arms. The tango wound its sinuous way through the candlelit room as she allowed him to pull her closer still and the night seemed to take on an aching throb. Filled with an utter sense of rightness, Elena wound her arms around Nick’s neck and went up on her toes to touch her mouth to his.

  Long, drugging seconds later, Nick lifted his head. “That’s the first time you’ve actually kissed me properly.”

  “I’ve changed.” Elena concentrated on keeping her expression serene. As tempted as she was to let Nick take control, to simply abandon herself to sensation, she couldn’t afford to get lost in a whirlwind of passion as she had done on the last two occasions. To maximize her chances of success with him, she needed to keep her head and control her responses.

  Threading her fingers through Nick’s hair, she pulled his mouth back to hers.

  Conditions were not ideal for the love scene she had thought would take place. For one thing, she hadn’t had time to slip into the sexy lingerie, or the jersey silk dress she had intended to wear. She hadn’t had the chance to shower or use the expensive body lotion she had bought, which would have been a more pleasant alternative to the residue of sea salt on her skin.

  She couldn’t allow any of that to matter. Luckily, she had remembered to pack the book of lovemaking techniques in her beach bag, intending to read it on the beach, so at least she could attempt to be a little more sophisticated than she’d been on previous occasions.

  As if in response to the sensuality sizzling in the air, the tango music grew smokier.

  Feeling a little nervy, Elena dragged at the buttons of Nick’s shirt. As she unfastened the last button, she watched, mouth dry as Nick shrugged out of it, letting the limp cotton drop to the floor.

  With his shirt off, his shoulders muscular and gleaming in the glow of candlelight, his chest broad and abs washboard tight, Nick was beautiful in a completely masculine way. The dark hair sprinkled across his chest and arrowed to the waistband of his pants, adding an earthy edge that made her pulse race. He pulled her close for another kiss, this one deeper, longer than the last.

  Once again, determined to take the initiative, Elena found the waistband of Nick’s pants and tugged, pulling Nick with her as she walked backward in the direction of the bedrooms.

  If this cottage was the same as hers, and so far it looked identical, the master bedroom would be a short walk down the hall and to the left, with a set of doors opening out onto the terrace.

  She managed to maneuver a step to the right so she could grab the strap of her beach bag on the way.

  Nick lifted his head, his brows jerking together when he noticed the bag, but by then they were in the hall and the ultimate destination of the bedroom was clear.

  The plan stalled for a few seconds when Nick plan
ted one hand on the doorjamb, preventing further progress. He cupped her jaw, sliding the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip in a caress that made her head spin. “Maybe we should slow this down—”

  “You mean wait?” A little breathlessly, Elena tugged at the annoyingly difficult fastening of his jeans. By now, Nick should have been naked.

  Fourteen

  Nick’s palm curled around to cup her nape. “Are you sure this is what you want? I had planned something a little more—”

  She found the zipper and dragged it down.

  Nick made an odd groaning sound. “Uh, never mind...” With a deft movement, he undid what looked like a double fastening and peeled out of the jeans.

  Elena’s mouth went dry. With Nick wearing nothing more than the swimming trunks he’d had on beneath his jeans while she was still fully dressed, the sexual initiative should have been hers, a clear message to him that she was no longer a novice at this. But with the golden wash of light from the sitting room flaring over taut, bronzed muscles and adding a heated gleam to his gaze, there was no hint that Nick had registered the dominating tactic. He looked utterly, spectacularly at home in his own skin.

  Seconds later, in a further reversal, Elena found herself propelled gently backward into the bedroom. She remembered to hang on to the strap of the bag, which had slipped off her shoulder and hooked around her wrist. Having to concentrate on keeping the bag and the book with her was an unexpected boon, because the sensual control she’d worked so hard to establish was rapidly dissolving into an array of delicious sensations that made it very hard to think.

  Nick’s fingers brushed her nape. Heat surged through her as she felt the neckline of her tunic loosen. Cool air flowed against her skin as the tunic slipped to her waist, trapping her arms.

  Nick took advantage of her trapped arms to bend and brush his lips over one shoulder. The featherlight kiss sent another throb of sensual heat through her, before she dropped her bag and finally managed to wriggle her arms free.

  A split second later the entire tunic floated to the floor, informing her that while she had been concentrating on the logistics of moving Nick into the bedroom, his fingers had been busy undoing the entire line of buttons that ran down her back.