JUST ONE MORE NIGHT

by Fiona Brand

  A wave of melting heat zinged through her as Nick’s hands cupped her breasts through the thin Lycra of her bikini. Dipping his head, he took one breast into his mouth, and for long, shimmering moments she lost focus as the aching throb low in her belly gathered and tightened.

  Dimly, she noted that this part of the seduction was not going to plan. She had hoped to keep all of her clothes on until the last moment. Somehow things had deteriorated to the point that she was in danger of being naked first and once more irresistibly propelled into a whirlpool of passion.

  Nick transferred his attention to her mouth. Without thinking, her arms coiled around his neck as she arched into the kiss and fitted herself more closely against him. With a slick movement, he picked her up and deposited her on the bed, following her down and sprawling beside her.

  She felt a tug at her hips, the coolness of air as her bikini bottoms were stripped down her legs. Her brain snapped back into gear when she realized that for a few seconds she had allowed herself to drift in a pleasurable daze and now was completely naked.

  Bracing her palms on Nick’s chest, she pushed.

  He frowned. “You want to be on top?”

  She drew a deep breath. “Yes.” The position was the most basic in the book, but it had the advantage of being easy to remember.

  Obligingly, he subsided onto his back. Taking a deep breath, Elena began the business of peeling the swim trunks down. With Nick now impressively naked and the trunks in her hand she realized she had forgotten one crucial step: the condom.

  Mouth dry, she clambered off the bed and rummaged in her beach bag until she found the box of condoms she had bought earlier in the day. Feeling a little panicked because she sensed the ambiance was deteriorating, she selected one at random. In the process a number of the packets flew onto the floor.

  Nick slid off the bed. His light green gaze pinned her. “When did you buy these?”

  The sudden grim tension made her freeze in place. “Yesterday.”

  “Then they’re not for Corrado.”

  “No.” She blinked at the idea that she would want to sleep with Robert. Although that concept was overridden by a far more riveting one. Nick was jealous of Robert. “I haven’t slept with Robert.”

  Nick released her wrist, relief registering in his gaze. “Good.”

  The conversation was blunt and inconclusive, but the fragile hope that had been slowly, but gradually, growing over the past two days unfurled a little more.

  With an easy, fluid motion, Nick picked up the box and began shoveling condoms back into it. “These look...interesting.”

  “I just grabbed the first box I found.” And unfortunately, it seemed to be filled with an assortment of acidic colors and strange ribbed shapes.

  As she attempted to tear open one of the packets, Nick picked her up with easy strength and deposited her back on the bed with him, pulling her close. The rough heat of his palms at her hips, gliding to the small of her back, urged her closer still.

  The foil packet tore across. A black, ribbed shape emerged. Nick made a choked sound—a split second later he kissed her.

  Swamped by a sudden sensual overload, she kissed him back. Long seconds later, she surfaced. The condom was still clutched in one hand; she had almost forgotten it. Not good.

  Pulling free, she eased down Nick’s body.

  Obligingly, he allowed her to fit the condom. She had almost mastered the art of rolling it on when, jaw taut, Nick stayed her hand.

  In a strained voice he muttered, “Maybe you should let me do that.”

  With an expert motion he completed the sheathing. Face oddly taut, he pulled her beneath him. Before she could protest, he kissed her, his gaze soft, his mouth quirked. “Sorry, babe. You can be on top next.”

  Babe. A quiver of pleasure went through her at the easy endearment. Entranced by Nick’s heat and weight, his clean masculine scent laced with sea salt, it suddenly ceased to matter that her plan had been overridden, or that she’d had a plan at all.

  She was with the man she loved with all her heart. As he came down between her legs in the intense, heated joining that seared her to her very core, she had a split second to log that, as inspiring as the book with its chapters of advice was, in that moment it ceased to have any relevance.

  Lost in coiling shimmers of sensation with Nick, she had everything she needed and more.

  * * *

  A rapping at the door pulled Elena out of a deep, dreamless sleep. Nick was sprawled next to her, the sheet low around his hips, sunlight flowing across the strong, muscular lines of his back.

  Suppressing the urge to ignore whoever was at the door and snuggle back against him, she glanced at the bedside clock, which confirmed that it was late, past nine.

  Another rap had her sliding out of bed. Grabbing a white terry-cloth robe she found draped over a chair, she finger-combed her hair as she padded to the front door.

  Her first thought—that it was someone from the hotel wanting to speak to Nick—died when, through a window she glimpsed two feminine figures. Both were casually, if elegantly dressed, which suggested they were guests.

  It occurred to her that they could be clients from her seminar who’d decided that What Women Really Want meant some kind of license to pursue Nick.

  If that was the case, she thought, becoming more annoyed by the second, they were about to be disappointed. The days of Nick being pursued by gorgeous young things who thought he was free were over. Nick was no longer free: he was hers.

  A rosy glow spread through her at the thought. Suddenly, wearing a bathrobe to the door had its upside. She was in Nick’s cabin. It was obvious she had been in his bed.

  She wrenched the door open and froze.

  “Elena?” Francesca Messena, dressed in snug jeans, red heels and a filmy red shirt peered at her. “We knocked on your door—”

  “When you didn’t answer, we figured you must be here.” Sophie Messena, cool and serene in an oversize white linen shirt and white leggings, frowned. “Are you all right? Honey, can you speak?”

  Elena clutched at the lapels of her bathrobe, which had begun to gape, but it was too late, Sophie and Francesca had already zeroed in on the red mark at the base of her neck. “I’m fine. Never better.”

  Sophie glanced at her twin. “She doesn’t look fine.” Her voice turned imperious. “Where’s Nick?”

  Francesca gave Elena a sympathetic look. “We heard about the bet.”

  “What bet?” Elena attempted to block the doorway, but she was too slow. The Messena twins, both taller than her by several inches, and as lithe and graceful as cats, had already flowed past her into the hall.

  “It wasn’t a bet,” a gravelly voice interjected. “It was a wager.”

  A split second later, Nick, strolled out of the bedroom dressed in jeans, hair ruffled, his torso bare. If there had ever been any doubt for the twins about what they had spent the night doing, it was gone.

  Nick’s gaze pinned her. Linking his fingers with hers, he drew her close, then casually draped an arm around her waist, holding her against his side. “Let me guess who told you. Eva.”

  Francesca picked up Nick’s shirt, which was still lying on the floor from the previous evening, and pointedly tossed it over the back of a chair. “We’re not at liberty to reveal our source.”

  “You should say sources,” Sophie corrected her twin. “Then he gets left guessing.”

  Francesca lifted a brow. “Hmm. Obviously, you’re much better at this than me.”

  Sophie folded her arms across her chest as if she was settling in for the duration. “I’m in retail. It leads to wisdom.”

  Nick’s arm tightened around her. “Now that you’ve had your say and seen that Elena survived the night, you can leave. I love you, but you’ve got approximately...”
He consulted his wristwatch. “Five minutes before we start making love again.”

  “Before what?” Francesca’s brows jerked together. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  Sophie ignored Nick and looked directly at Elena. “I heard the wager was for one night. You should leave if you want.”

  Elena was abruptly tired of the intervention, as well-meaning as it was. “It’s not about one night,” she said firmly. “We’re in love. This is about the rest of our lives.”

  There was a ringing silence.

  Francesca sent Nick a level look. “Then I guess congratulations are in order.”

  * * *

  After breakfast, Nick suggested they leave for Auckland and his apartment, where they could be guaranteed privacy for a few days. The seminar was technically finished. There was no need for Elena to go to the main part of the resort, and since she wasn’t a guest, she didn’t have to check out. Her car was a rental, so it was easy enough to arrange to have it collected from the resort, which meant she could travel with him.

  Elena was happy to pack and leave. Ever since the twins had burst in she had felt unsettled and on edge. Nick had been nice. More, he had been charming, but the good manners and consideration were oddly distancing.

  She found herself desperately wanting him to revert to type, to be blunt and irritable or even outright annoying. She would rather fight with him than endure this sense of being held at arm’s length.

  On the bright side, they were going to spend the next few days together, before she had to fly back to Sydney, and Nick had mentioned a sailing holiday. It wasn’t everything she wanted, but it was a positive start.

  The drive to Auckland took three hours. Exhausted from an almost sleepless night, Elena dozed most of the way and woke as Nick pulled into an underground parking lot.

  Minutes later, they walked into his penthouse, which had a breathtaking view of the Waitemata Harbour.

  The penthouse itself was huge, large enough to fit three normal-size houses into, with expanses of blond wood flooring and an entire wall of glass.

  Nick showed her to a room. Her heart beat a little faster until he dropped his bag beside hers. With relief she realized they were sharing his room.

  Feeling happier and almost relaxed, Elena strolled through the apartment and checked out the kitchen before stepping out onto a patio complete with swimming pool and planters overflowing with tropical shrubs.

  While she was admiring a particularly beautiful bromeliad with tiger stripes and a brilliant pink throat, Nick’s arms came around her from behind.

  “I have to apologize for my family. Sophie and Francesca should have stayed out of it.”

  She turned in his grasp and braced her hands on his arms, preserving a slight distance. “You mean stayed out of our relationship?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Elena frowned, but Nick had already drawn her close and the feel of his lips on the side of her neck was making it difficult to think. Just before he kissed her, it occurred to her that Nick had carefully avoided saying the word relationship.

  * * *

  Elena woke to the dim grayness of early evening in a tangle of sheets. Nick’s arm was draped heavily across her waist, as if even in sleep he wanted to keep her close.

  Easing herself from the bed so as not to wake him, she picked up his shirt, which was puddled on the floor, shrugged into it and padded to the bathroom.

  The reflection that bounced back at her stopped her in her tracks. Dressed in the oversize shirt, with her hair ruffled, eyes still slumberous from sleep and faint red marks from Nick’s stubble on her jaw and neck, she looked like a woman who had been well loved.

  Her cheeks warmed at the memory of the few hours they’d spent in bed. The lovemaking had been sweet and gorgeous and very tender. While she hadn’t gotten a chance to consult the book, mainly because Nick had snatched it out of her grip and tossed it over the balcony, she had gotten to be on top, twice.

  Elena used the facilities, and washed her hands and face. Feeling absurdly happy, she studied Nick’s razor and the various toiletries lined up on the vanity, and gave in to the urge to take the top off his bottle of aftershave. The familiar resinous scent made her stomach clench and her toes curl.

  Strolling out to the kitchen, she poured herself a glass of water then walked through the sitting room, fingers trailing over sleek, minimalist furniture. The thought that this could be her home for the foreseeable future filled her with a rosy glow.

  Although nothing was settled, she reminded herself. Nick was clearly still adjusting; they would be taking this one step at a time.

  A familiar humming sound caught her attention. Nick’s phone was vibrating on the masculine work desk in the alcove. Moving quickly, she snatched up the phone and thumbed the Off button. The absolute last thing she wanted now was for Nick to wake up and shift straight into work mode, ending their interlude.

  Holding her breath for long seconds, Elena listened hard, but the only sound she could hear was Nick’s slow, regular breathing, indicating that he was still deeply asleep.

  She placed the phone carefully down beside a file, and froze when she saw her name on a sheet of paper that had slipped partway out of the folder.

  Flipping the cover sheet open, she found a note from Constantine Atraeus, her boss, indicating that he was sending Nick materials he had requested.

  The materials turned out to be her proposal for the seminar, the quiz she had devised and a copy of the answer sheet.

  Knees weak, Elena sat down in the swivel chair pulled up at the desk and spread the sheets out.

  The tension that had started at Francesca and Sophie’s intrusive questioning, followed by Nick’s evasive behavior, coalesced into knowledge.

  At some point, way before she had ever gotten to Dolphin Bay to run the seminar, Nick had filled out the quiz, marking every question with the correct answer.

  The mystery behind Nick’s high score was solved.

  He had cheated.

  Fingers shaking with a fine tremor, she double-checked the folder in case she had missed something.

  Such as a real, fumbled effort at the quiz. Anything that might indicate that Nick Messena had an actual beating heart and not an agenda that was as cold in the bedroom as it was in the boardroom.

  There was one final piece of correspondence. It was a memo to the manager of the Dolphin Bay Resort, granting him a week’s leave covering the period of the seminar.

  Clearing the way for seduction, because Nick had known how weak her defenses had been, that given long enough, she wouldn’t be able to resist him.

  Setting the letter down, Elena walked back to the kitchen, replaced her glass on the counter and looked blindly out onto the patio with its lengthening shadows.

  Her head was pounding and her chest was tight. Why had Nick done such a thing? And why with her, out of all the women he could choose?

  In her heart of hearts she wanted it to be because, secretly, he had always been falling for her, that he was just as much a victim of the intense, magical chemistry that had held her in thrall as she had been.

  But the weight of evidence didn’t add up to that conclusion. Three short flings with a man who was known for his tendency to go through women. A seminar Nick had maneuvered his way into, with her accommodation placed conveniently next door to his. The champagne and the carefully staged room, the scene set for seduction.

  The fact that he had cheated on the quiz, as hurtful as that had been, was only the clincher.

  A bubble of misery built in her chest. She had wondered what the invisible, unbreachable barrier was with Nick. Now she knew. It was his own well-established protection against intimacy.

  The twins busting in now made perfect sense. They were his sisters; they knew exactly how he operated. They had been trying to prote
ct her, trying to tell her that despite Nick’s pursuit of her, he didn’t intend to allow a relationship to grow. All he had wanted was the thrill of the chase, with the prize of a few passionate hours in bed.

  She had stupidly ignored the twins and her own instincts, choosing to cling to a fantasy that she wanted, but which had no substance. In so doing, she had allowed Nick to succeed at the one thing she had vowed she wouldn’t allow.

  He had made her fall in love with him all over again.

  Fifteen

  Nick came out of sleep fast, drawn by the utter silence that seemed to hang over the apartment like a shroud and the taut sense that he had slept too long.

  Instantly alert, he rolled out of the empty bed. The first thing he noticed as he pulled on his trousers was that Elena’s suitcase, which he had set down beside the dresser, was gone.

  Stomach tight, he finished dressing, grabbed a fresh jacket from the wardrobe and found the Jeep keys. As he strode through the apartment he automatically took stock. Every trace that Elena had ever been there was gone.

  The knowledge that something had gone badly wrong was confirmed by a copy of the quiz, and the incriminating answer sheet, placed side by side on a coffee table.

  Too late to wish he’d told Elena what he’d done, or that he’d shoved the file in a drawer out of sight until he’d had the chance to come clean. But yesterday, after the showdown with the twins and Elena’s quiet statement that she was in love with him, he had been stunningly aware that it was decision time.

  Either he committed to Elena or he lost her. But knowing that he should commit—more, that Elena needed him to commit—didn’t make it any easier to step over an invisible line he had carefully avoided for years.

  Grabbing his phone, he stepped out of the apartment and took the elevator to the lobby. He speed-dialed Elena’s number. He didn’t expect her to pick up, and he was right.