by Kris Pearson
“Until the cottage.”
“Until the cottage,” he agreed. “And since then...”
“I know. Five days of paradise and then months of hell. And more to follow.”
“Not so much more. Two months? Unless you want to re-negotiate your contract? Are you sure you want to give up your jet-setting life? Your parents were speechless when I stopped in at Auckland and showed them my letter.”
Fiona’s eyes sparkled with amusement. She pushed herself up until she could gaze down at him.
“Fancy getting rid of their son-in-law and then finding they had him back again for another go!”
A sleepy smile played about his lips but his dark eyes still held questions.
“Christian darling,” she whispered. “I love you. I want to share your life and your daughter. Hopefully give you a son. I’d leave my beautiful boat for your collection of old cars any day.”
Epilogue—July
When Christian carried her through the front door of their cliff-top home, Fiona’s heart flipped.
“You’ve framed Jan’s letter! Chris—that’s too public.”
He set her down, but kept an arm around her waist.
“I’ve had it framed for Nicky. We’ll hang it in her room once she’s old enough to read it, but in the meantime it’ll stop a few tongues from wagging.”
Silently they read the loving words that had set the seal on their golden future together:
My darling Christian,
I can’t bear to say goodbye with your lovely eyes watching me.
You’ll find these letters when the time is right, and know that I love you totally. You know that anyway. You and Nicky have made me complete. I’m so happy to have had you both in my life.
Things are getting bad now, and I need to say this while I still can. I’ve had lots of time to just lie here and think. I’m thinking about you and Fiona. You love her I’m sure. You’ve been careful to stay away from her and not hurt me. Thank-you for doing that. Your sense of honor is so strong.
I want to give you both my blessing. She’s my sister, my blood, my best friend. She would love Nicky as though she was her own. When I’m gone, you must build a new life. If Fiona is your choice, that will be perfect.
Show the people who need to see this.
Show Fiona.
All my love always,
Your Jan.
THE END
Like to read more about Christian and Fiona? My Christmas novella ‘Santa Claws’ gives you a peek at their life together.
http://krispearson.com/santa-claws-a-christmas-novella
HOT FOR YOU
(Wellington Book 5)
Kris Pearson
Airline heiress Melanie knows exactly what she wants. She wants Cody, but certain conditions apply. Will she get the hot pilot into her bed?
Cody knows what he wants, too. He wants Melanie—but not on the terms she’s set.
Chapter One—A Proposition
“I’ll make you a deal,” Melanie Kennedy Anderson said, leaning a little further toward her chief pilot, Cody Mitchell. Red-hot hormones, huge longing, and total honesty combined to give her courage. “Would you consider giving me two of your children in return for part of my airline?”
Cody’s dark brown eyes lost their sleepy warmth and shot wide open. He flinched but managed not to fall off his chair. “Dammit Mel, you don’t make jokes like that to a guy!”
Melanie’s direct gaze never left his. “Two healthy babies in the next three years,” she clarified, with only the slightest quaver in her voice. “We could start work on the project tonight.”
Cody continued to sit, ankle over knee, tumbler of Scotch in hand, speechless for at least the next twenty seconds. His eyes stayed locked with hers. His lips parted as though he might say something, but there was nothing further. The acrid smell of aviation fuel drifted through the open windows, and the blinds of the CustomAir depot slapped against the frames in the freshening breeze.
Mel’s bravado began to slide away. Was he even going to answer? “Well?” she asked after the silence had grown too long. “I’m serious, Cody, I’ll be thirty-four on Monday. Rob and I never managed any kids. Such a pity—he would have been a great dad. I need to get going on my family before my biological clock runs down too far.”
She absolutely needed him to help. Him and no-one else. His combination of looks, health, and intelligence would make beautiful children. And it didn’t hurt that nobody had ever turned her on so fast, and made her want so fiercely.
Cody gulped a large mouthful of his remaining drink, still looking astounded by her very direct proposition.
Mel saw his throat constrict as he swallowed. How long had she wanted to touch him just there? Right by his loosened collar, where his skin would be warm and smooth...
“I don’t want another husband,” she continued, dredging up a mite more confidence from heaven only knew where. “Just a good looking potent man willing to make me pregnant a couple of times. I’ve chosen you.”
Her heart pounded behind her ribs, and butterflies fluttered their soft wings in her belly. She breathed out slowly and carefully, trying to sound assured and casual, but inside she was a mass of pulsing nerves. Would he accept? For sure he wouldn’t have seen her offer coming. Not today anyway. Not on a regular old workday, like so many others they’d shared.
For the past six months, they’d always had a late Friday afternoon meeting in her office while they reviewed the week’s business and planned ahead.
This wasn’t business.
Well, not normal business—that was for certain.
Cody coughed and cleared his throat, looking as though too much Scotch had rushed down.
There’d been flickering heat between them since the moment they’d met, but she’d been Rob’s wife—his best friend’s wife—and therefore way off limits to him. However much he might have been tempted by her, it was ‘hands off’ because a man just didn’t do that to a mate.
Or ‘clear off’—because Rob would have given him a one-way ticket out of the company if he’d suspected even a hint of attraction between them.
She knew that Cody had had no reason to risk losing the job, or risk losing his friendship with Rob.
But Rob was gone, and finally Mel dared to dangle the ultimate temptation in front of him. She hoped his body had lit with anticipation. That heat prickled through him, fogging his brain until all he registered was her. She saw his breathing had deepened, and a pulse slammed on the side of his neck.
And surely his blood had rushed south, because he’d moved on his chair, uncrossed his long legs and leaned forward, elbows on knees as though he was hiding what she wanted so much.
Her eyes slid to the near empty crystal tumbler he rocked to and fro like a frantic pendulum. Giveaway, Cody! So she knew he wanted her, was ready for her. Now she just had to push a little harder.
He grabbed a deep breath and braved her direct gaze again. “I’m not ideal father material, Mel. I like my independence. I’ve never wanted to be tied down. Enjoy my freedom too much... and so on...” He trailed off as she started to smile.
“I know that Cody, so you’re perfect. It’s not you I want—it’s your children. With your looks and spirit. Your intelligence and good health.”
She saw the hot wash of confusion engulfing him. Would he be offended she didn’t want him, or relieved she found him perfect?
She settled back into her leather swivel chair, feigning indifference. She’d long ago decided he’d be a top quality sire but a hopeless husband. Rob had often boasted of Cody’s conquests, laughingly reporting on new girlfriends as they came and inevitably went.
Mel had no intention of joining that queue. She’d watched her mother trying to cope with her feckless father for years on end. Seen Cynthia slowly build herself a separate life once she realised she wasn’t wanted in his.
Maybe Rob had been as bad on those ‘boys’ weekends’ he and Cody and a couple of others had sometimes sh
ared? Mel didn’t want to know, but after the example her father had set she wouldn’t be surprised.
“Just a private arrangement,” she continued, trying to sound neutral. “Your stud service—for as long as I need it. And then you get your reward. I do realize I’m asking a lot, so I’m willing to offer quite a lot in return. I’ll share my four planes, the airline’s good reputation, and all the ancillary stuff with you. Maybe twenty percent?”
She held her breath.
“For a couple of sperm?” he finally croaked.
Was he blushing? She couldn’t decide. Cody’s naturally olive skin already had a summer tan, but he looked amazingly uncomfortable. His eyes had darkened with shock, and he breathed as hard as if he’d just sprinted a mile.
“Probably for billions of them. Unless you can sort out the pair with the good looks and sharp brains on our first go-round.” She added what she hoped was a cheeky grin to soften her rather basic description.
***
Cody’s cock flexed. The damn thing felt stiff as a stick of dynamite—and about as likely to explode. Of course he couldn’t take Mel’s outrageous offer seriously. Shit no. Shares in a floatplane, two other fixed-wing aircraft and a helicopter in return for endless pleasure? He wasn’t born yesterday. Deals like this didn’t fall out of trees. Surely it was some rich-bitch game, and she was having fun at his expense?
He knew she was used to getting what she wanted. Money had never been a problem for her. CustomAir was a tightly structured charter company which catered to a discreet upper end niche in the market, and filled the company’s coffers very generously. They set wealthy foreign tourists down beside luxury lodges in the spectacular private scenic areas of New Zealand. Transported well-heeled hunters swiftly to remote mountainous killing grounds. And ferried small corporate parties into idyllic conference surroundings. None of that came cheap.
Mel had nerves of platinum. Cody had often seen her in business situations, and marveled at her ruthless determination and unflagging energy. Saying no to Melanie took some doing.
He continued to jiggle the crystal tumbler as though it was a peanut-butter jar, searching for better words to say his own ‘no’ with.
He swallowed again. Fuck, this wasn’t easy. “Why don’t you contact a sperm bank? They’re probably who you need.” Desperation and embarrassment had the words coming out in a croak.
***
Melanie ran appreciative eyes over his thick dark hair and straight nose. Down over his sensual mouth and stroke-me neck. Past the opened collar of his pilot’s white shirt where a royal blue and gold striped tie had been jerked loose. A lean, beautifully muscled body lurked inside the smart CustomAir uniform. She’d watched him covertly ever since Rob had first sauntered into the office with Cody in tow and announced he’d found the perfect replacement pilot for soon-to-be-retired Arch McKay.
Her clit had given a delicious twitch and her whole body had sighed ‘Mmmm, you beautiful bad boy...’
She’d clamped down on those feelings just an instant too late. She loved Rob perfectly well. This dangerous friend of his was to be avoided at all costs. And for the rest of her marriage, and the recent empty months of widowhood, she’d steeled herself to treat Cody simply as a valued employee. But now, surely enough time had gone by?
“Ick!” she said to the sperm bank suggestion. Her lower lip curled in distaste. She tossed her head and her curtain of pale hair rippled. “No sperm bank, thanks. I want to know I’m getting fresh and hot and healthy, with the ultimate guarantee of exactly who the father is. Not some sad anonymous stick of ice.”
Cody obviously felt the need to retreat into humor. “I’m sure they’d thaw it for you,” he said, mouth quirking.
“I won’t be giving them the chance.” She continued to watch him like a starving cat with a succulent mouse almost within reach. Her damned clit was doing that involuntary pleasure-twitch thing again. God, she was practically coming right in front of him! But at least he hadn’t run—yet.
“Sorry if this has come as a shock,” she murmured. “I’ve been thinking about it for quite a while and tidying up the details. I’ve sprung it on you too fast. Are you free for dinner tonight so we can talk?”
He shook his head slowly, wearily, as though the situation was almost too heavy to deal with. “You’re not serious, Mel. You are absolutely not serious about this. It’s not—possible. Not sensible. Dammit—it’s barbaric.”
“Why barbaric?” she demanded. “I want children, Cody. I have plenty of money to raise them. But I’m a prominent target for men seeking a rich wife. I don’t want to become some fortune hunter’s trophy so I can be a mother. I feel no need to remarry.” She shrugged her shoulders—the merest lift—and hoped the small gesture spoke volumes. “I’m sure you’d like a share in your own airline? I’m simply suggesting a nice civilized trade-off. Just between the two of us, so we each get what we want.” She raised an eyebrow, inviting him to accept.
The frisky breeze flicked a tendril of pale hair against her cheek so it danced along her skin. She swatted at it several times and then stood to pull one of the windows further closed. Windy Wellington was living up to its reputation again.
She felt Cody’s eyes on her as she stretched up on tiptoe to adjust the catches. Her short white linen skirt—slightly creased after the long warm day—rose further up as she tugged at the window-sash. Would his gaze lock on the narrow gap between her thighs? Was he imagining skin that felt soft, smooth, a sensual treat for his fingertips? God, she hoped so.
“So—dinner?” she repeated as she turned to face him and sat again in her leather swivel chair. “I’ve a couple of good porterhouse steaks and some of Rob’s favorite Shiraz that needs drinking?”
“No. No thanks.” He shook his head with determination and her spirits fell. Then she heard him add, “A restaurant maybe? You don’t need to cook for me.”
The rush of relief and triumph made it difficult to keep her expression neutral. “Was that a yes or a no?”
She tried to imagine what he was feeling. The delicate counterpoint of shock and desire. The glorious combination of potent male pride and extreme wanting. She knew he was tempted, even though her invitation to dinner had apparently confused him. Surely she only needed to push a little harder...?
“No to the planes,” Cody grated. “Don’t even think about it. You can’t buy a man’s pride out from under him like that. If I do it—and it’s a very big ‘if’—I do it with no expectation of payment. And I’m probably not going to do it at all.”
“But we can talk about it over a meal?”
She watched as he sucked in a fast breath.
“I don’t know. Maybe. Somewhere on the waterfront? It’s a great evening.”
A wave of elation roared right through her. Step one had been achieved. She’d been uncertain of his reaction. Had expected surprise and shock and outrage. Hoped for the outrage if she was honest, for who wanted a man to give in without a decent fight? Not her!
She re-arranged her features into bland indifference as she reached into her nearby briefcase and rummaged for her small black address book. Then she perched her reading glasses on her nose and flicked the pages over. “The Dolphin?”
“If they still have a table free on a busy Friday a week before Christmas.”
“We’ll see, then.” She tapped the number in slowly, being careful of her nails.
***
Cody groaned silently, imagining exactly what they could get up to together, summoning the sensation of those beautifully manicured pink nails scraping over his skin...of his own hands roaming at will over her.
Damn—she looks deliciously prim peering through her little gold framed lenses. Like a sexy school-marm ready to cane my butt.
But even without the planes, her outlandish offer was still far too weird for him. Women didn’t do this. Each of his former girlfriends—and there’d been quite a few in his thirty-six years—had been intensely keen not to get pregnant unless marriage w
as included in the deal. With a background like his, it never had been. The only son of an unmarried mother and a father who was frequently missing, he was determined no child of his would go through the same deprivations and torments.
He had condoms stashed in his wallet, various jacket and trouser pockets, his bedside drawer and the bathroom cabinet. And here was Mel demanding they go skin-to-skin. It was a long time since he’d enjoyed that particular pleasure. His body tightened even further. His cock now stood ramrod hard, and his balls were filled with hot lead. His brain smoked as he imagined the smooth naked slide of warm slippery flesh against flesh.
“Eight o’clock okay for you?” he heard her ask. He’d been miles away, eyes closed, jaw clenched. “Eight o’clock, Cody?” she repeated. “It’ll give me time to freshen up.”
He snapped back from wherever he’d been and returned to the smart blue and white CustomAir office, then placed the crystal tumbler very precisely on the corner of her desk. He made no move to stop her when she poured herself another half drink and upended the last of the Scotch into his glass.
“Eight. Fine. I’ll pick you up? I’ll bring The Toy.” The Toy was his silver Porsche, and reserved for off-duty thrills. His everyday car was a big comfortable Volvo wagon. He referred to the Volvo as The Crate. Many people thought it an incongruous choice of vehicle for a devil-may-care flyer. Rob had teased him unmercifully when Cody had bought it eighteen months ago. Told him it was ideal to keep a wife and children safe.
“I’m keeping myself safe, matey, after risking my neck all day, every day, in your kites. And there’s a heap of room for the scuba gear and skis and all my other stuff.”
“The Toy it is then,” she said.
His gut tightened as Mel rose and stretched up to pull the windows properly closed. Her skimpy skirt lifted a couple more inches up the backs of her thighs and his brain caught fire. He could have her, but right now the price was too high.
