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Instruction in Seduction

Page 13

by Judy Jarvie


  But what about me? What more can I do?

  Ailsa looked at the locket pictures she held in her hand. Fuzzy Mum and Dad. Grinning Kirsty. She snapped it shut between her thumb and finger.

  Losing loved ones and the fear effect it had on long term relationships would’ve been a subject she’d have scored a perfect ten thousand per cent in. Nick Palmer couldn’t even begin to understand how scared caring made her. How she could never risk feeling vulnerable again.

  And if he wanted to talk about it – it was surely time to stop.

  ***

  Ailsa caught her breath and nearly caught her fingers in the filing cabinet drawer when Nick pulled her around, stealthily as a panther. His touch was indelible. She could recognise it in an identity parade of fingerprints on flesh.

  “So let’s talk.” His voice was as dark as it had been on the phone. “Want to go out?”

  “I can’t. I’m working.”

  “Then we’ll talk here.”

  When he was riled and darkly on the verge of suppressed anger it excited her; she was never scared of Nick, just stimulated by the intense passion within. But she must resist. Nick was closing in and she couldn’t let this get deeper.

  “Ms Murray, we need to get something straight. This isn’t just about training you how to have good sex.” His eyes glowed at his words.

  And her fury was still on a low simmer that could quickly reheat. “And that won’t be happening any more. Now that I know you go behind my back and talk to Lisa.”

  “Needs must; at least she gives me a window on what goes on inside your mind. I’m serious. This isn’t a switch I can turn off.”

  He stormed to her and took her in his arms. Then he parted her lips with his tongue and told her what all the words in the world could not. She stopped him.

  “We going home now to prove that you matter more than any list or quick good time?”

  “No. I’ve work to do.”

  “So, is Lisa right about your sister and Mum being at the root of your cold feet? You figure by blocking people out for the rest of your life, you’ll glide through life’s glitches. Well I’m sorry but life doesn’t work that way. As tragic as things have been, you are going to have to move on.”

  The comments about her losses may have met the mark but that didn’t mean she was ready to accept it. So what if he saw beneath her veneer of capability and saw the cracks too ably?

  Ailsa stepped back. “Lisa had no right telling you. Move on? You say it like you know the first thing about it.”

  “I do,” he replied softly. “I had an elder brother who died in a holiday accident. The ordeal my family went through getting my brother’s body back made me vow to work in tourism and make things better.”

  Ailsa let his words sink in then perused him suspiciously for a second. “Why are you wearing that fancy suit?” It was a very nice suit. Sharply tailored and worn with gleaming expensive shoes. In a boardroom he’d be unbeatable. Troubling also. From here the threads looked distinctly Armani.

  “An interview of sorts,” he clarified. “Actually it was a staff briefing at Chez Angelle. You’re looking at the new owner; call it a promising new direction.”

  Serious.

  Ailsa stared, reeling from his words.

  Nick said softly. “It was your reaction to the place that caused me to reconsider their approach to me. I’m glad I did. Hopefully it’ll become a home from home for us.”

  A death knell sounded in her heart. Klaxon alarms heralded it was time for her emotional nuclear bunker. The situation was way worse than she’d thought.

  “Isn’t what you’ve already got enough?”

  He perched on the edge of her desk. “Maybe I want firmer roots and a change of scene.”

  She took in the impeccable dark suit, the pristine package. What was it about a suit and white shirt that made her hormones jump up and disco? Was this how he dressed in London? Whatever, none of it mattered because now she knew she had to find the brakes and use them, fast.

  “I’m not getting through to you am I? You’re marching to a crazed tune and you need to be serious. You can’t go uprooting your life after a brief fling.”

  Nick argued back, “Brief fling it may be to you…” He glared like fury. “I’m so mad at you. Right now I’d like nothing more than to throw you across the desk and seeing what’s under your sensible work clothes. Making love to you until you can’t deny what we have transcends ordinary by so vast a margin it’s incredible. Why push me away and act like you’re waiting for another bus to come?” He rebuked her with clear retaliation.

  She saw the hurt in his eyes and the anger in his taut corded muscles. She knew her answers hurt him but surely this was for the best? His son should be his ultimate priority. God knows she’d lived without a father long enough to know the harsh void that left. She couldn’t let Nick lose focus.

  Ailsa summoned a calming breath and a lighter tone. “When are you going back to London? I think we need cool time.”

  Nick narrowed granite eyes. “Am I cramping your style?”

  Ailsa paced the room, putting things in places she’d probably never find them, feeling she needed her hands occupied, her feet moving. And her gaze away from his glaring stare.

  “Neglecting your life for me is a mistake. I made mistakes, Nick. Just call me sensitive to missed opportunities.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “My sister. My mother. My home. I’ve lost them all through inattention.” Her voice was dry when she tried to finish the sentence, “Go back to London.”

  He narrowed his eyes failing to tease her logic apart. “How on earth do you manage to conclude you’re a guilty party?”

  “I wasn’t there for Kirsty. In fact I went to London to escape being the underling sister. She never knew that. I wasn’t enough for Mum either.”

  Nick pushed his hand over his jaw. “You honestly can’t be serious. Your sister died in a tragic accident. Sibling rivalry isn’t a crime. Your mother clearly had devastating mental health problems you could never hope to solve.”

  “It’s still my failings; I’m responsible!” Ailsa shouted so loud it shocked him. “You should still go home.”

  He blew out a ragged breath. “I’ve told the company I’ll be gone another month. And yes it’s you I’d planned staying for.”

  “Then you should revisit.” Her face was a mask of taut assumed calm. Inside she was maelstrom of hurt and confused fear.

  Nick pulled her by the arms but she kept stiff and unyielding.

  He pushed her back to look at her but still she remained impassive. The phone rang on her desk and she was grateful to leave his body space.

  “Later,” he said. And slammed the door on his way out.

  ***

  Chapter Eleven

  Nick arrived back at Sally’s late. Late as in well after midnight and Ailsa had spent over an hour watching the clock. She’d called his mobile but it had been off.

  The noise downstairs betrayed his arrival at ten past one.

  Ailsa found him in the hallway as bleary eyed as she was. He’d been drinking, not overmuch, but he’d definitely imbibed. She could smell beer on his breath and coffee. The turn-on of the light taste of beer on Nick’s tongue as it devoured hers was a reminder that caused a tremor deep inside her.

  “I was worried. Where were you?” she asked.

  “Andy’s.”

  “They okay?”

  “Peachy.” He didn’t meet her gaze. She could tell by his tone that things were far from that.

  “I left some dinner if you still want it?”

  He shook his head and took off his coat then cast it aside on a chair but it missed and fell to the floor. He undid his shirt buttons and rolled up his sleeves. “Nope. I’m done in.”

  “About earlier…” she said softly. She heard the clock tick on the wall behind her.

  He was on her in a second, eyes burning. “You think you can push me away and I’ll bounce back r
eady for playtime like it doesn’t matter?”

  She hadn’t before appreciated the true passionate potential of an argument in a small confined space. His hands were on her in seconds. Rough, demanding. Unlatching her robe in haste and snapping the ties of her nightdress. Rough fingers claiming her silk-sheathed breast as his mouth and teeth assaulted hers. She found she needed this; the punishment felt warranted to her guilt-marred conscience.

  Nick’s eyes were wounded as he roughly pulled away her nightshirt.

  She’d gasped into his mouth as he’d kissed her hard. Her head was against the wall and that kiss was merciless. His hands echoed the sentiments of his tongue.

  “Nick!”

  “Don’t say a word. Today you’ve driven me crazy.”

  “I only need you to be wary.”

  “It’s too late for wary.”

  They went for it. Seizing sublime abandonment in the middle of Sally’s sedate, functional whitewashed and classy oil-painting hung hallway. Before she knew it her legs were wrapped around his middle and then she was sitting astride the telephone table, her nightshirt around her middle, the robe discarded across the floor. Nick was sucking her nipples, scratching her into divine wanton abandonment with the exquisite torture of his teeth on her sensitised skin as she grabbed his hair.

  She’d never fully appreciated this level of crazed, wild heat before.

  He opened his fly and his hard length’s tip was almost inside her then a condom came from who knew where. He jammed inside her hard and fast. She’d never wanted it that way more.

  Nick had cleared the table with a wild hand. A cactus plant in a bowl hit the floorboards with a smash but they were heedless. Mindless in their pursuit of heady release. He thundered inside her and took no mercy as she screamed out his name and claimed every thrust like she’d earned it. She clamoured for him. And bucked and writhed beneath his touch.

  “You’re wild,” she breathed as she felt his hands on her clitoris.

  He stroked her heat that got ever more thrilling the more serious it turned and took her over the edge a swift second time. He came inside her as the table broke and smashed beneath her and he carried Ailsa, still inside her, to the stairs.

  His face was in her hair, at her throat, his hands everywhere.

  “I want you and I can’t let go. You need to understand that.”

  This new urgent side to Nick made her weak and willing and desperate. It escalated to climax again fast.

  Nick whispered, “Bedroom.” Though neither of them could stand.

  She’d delighted in the speed of his recovery from their prior adventure. But now they were both spent, lying tangled with Sally’s hallway in wreckage around them.

  “Nick…” she moaned lightly against his lips. “We’ve finished most of the list now. Is inventing a new list permissible?” she whispered.

  “Anything you want, baby.” He rested his forehead on hers. “I’m there to make it work. This weekend I want to arrange something. Time together, just us. Time to work things through.”

  She smiled, but it felt hollow. He was pushing too hard again. He had a life. So did she.

  She couldn’t keep up this charade that they were just an ordinary pair of lovers. She was playing someone she wasn’t. Her heart was still iced over and tender and scared to trust in tomorrows.

  She wasn’t a ‘Sex List’ person. She was living a lie and so was he. Nick was as in denial as she was.

  “This weekend. You, me. Alone somewhere special.” He kissed her mouth but there was catch in her throat.

  “Okay, but let’s take it as it comes,” she answered.

  She didn’t need a lover who was destined to go from her life. She couldn’t bear to need someone and risk the loss. Or know he’d jeopardise his son’s welfare too readily.

  She had to send him home for his own good.

  Nick flipped her over. Recovered in very little time and clearly ready to make his point, and himself, felt. He pressed his taut hardness to the entrance to her molten centre. Ailsa was again all sensation. She felt herself melt and drown in the fulfilment of her own extreme need and longing for this man’s attentions. He buried himself in pleasuring her, unconcerned for his own need in his slavish attentions.

  How could she stand to lose this connection?

  “Can’t get enough of you,” he told her in a deep whisper.

  Ailsa shut her eyes. Knowing things were escalating and she wasn’t dealing with this well; he was confusing things. Attaching himself to Edinburgh; getting in too deep and throwing grenades like expectations and promises into the room to cause maximum emotional carnage.

  The man did for her sanity what icebergs did for the Titanic’s maiden voyage. Nick’s pushy, Alpha attitude was the lethal iceberg.

  And Ailsa knew she was already sinking fast; wanting him so badly her mind wouldn’t fathom what she intended to do about it.

  ***

  “Jump in,” Nick instructed, opening the car door after stowing Ailsa’s bag in the boot. “Game for two blissful nights by the sea?”

  “A secret hideaway?”

  “It’ll be worth it when we get there.” Worth it didn’t cover it. He’d pulled out every whistle and bell he knew. And right now he had a Right Honourable Lady to thank for their elite weekend venue.

  Since their last meeting his thoughts had been a mad jumble. He’d thought seriously about calling off, right to the last minute; he’d considered claiming illness. But he’d known damn well that wasn’t the way to go. Because he wanted her as badly as ever and if Ailsa was still going to finish with him, he still wanted that last piece of her.

  If they were going to talk, to confess to real feelings, to admit that now was the time to either draw things to a close or go the extra mile it had to be done face to face. Yet he sensed the darkening clouds in Ailsa.

  He wanted to cut the engine and quiz her right there and then but he held himself in check. Don’t spook her, you’ve enough surprises.

  The beach house, when they got there, had been well hyped by Lady Howby. It sat in a sandy cove overlooking the lapping waves of the Forth – a gated country house at one side with a private jetty and beach at the rear. This was Scotland’s secret cognoscenti coastline. Old money abounded in the splendid isolation of Fife’s secret Riviera.

  It had it all. The sea view. Bed the size of a highland glen. Isolation and a Jacuzzi tub.

  “Perfect retreat for uninterrupted hedonistic pleasure?” Nick ventured.

  “Perfect,” she answered with a tight smile.

  But the mood had shifted even with the perfect tableau and the champagne on ice as arranged. An extra large bouquet of roses and scented lilies centre stage in the vast picture window and a single rose on the pillow to match his requests. He watched her gulp and immediately he knew his actions were too hopeful.

  Ailsa gazed out at the sea. She removed her jacket.

  Then he took the bottle from its ice bucket. “Want one?”

  Nick saw the serious look in her eyes and could tell she didn’t intend to stay. “I don’t think we should.”

  “Lady Howby doesn’t just let this out to anybody. The strings I pulled were major.”

  Ailsa open palmed the air, “Huge thanks. But I can’t do it.” He watched her expression darken. “Please Nick. Don’t make this harder.”

  He took her hand, “Tell me, why?”

  “Me,” she gulped. “This. Our voyage has to end. Your ship is anchored. Mine’s been adrift so long it’s never coming back. Don’t take this and turn it into a new course for either of us.”

  “What about salvage, S.O.S? Will nothing work?” He unwired the popper and uncorked the bottle with his thumbs then poured them both a glass anyway. But he knew they wouldn’t taste it.

  “You need to go back to Jake and we need to stop kidding ourselves. I’ve been living somebody else’s version of life and now I need to shake myself.”

  He caught her eye. “But I want the real you. Not the vam
p, the come-ons. The broken esteem and crazy sense of inadequacy needs fixing but I can help you with that because I love you enough. I’m not going to lie and say I’ve regrets.”

  She gulped again. “It still has to stop.”

  “Very final,” he said removing the box from his pocket. So unwise; so ill-timed but as life-vests went it was all he had. “Then I must be crazy to think you might just have wanted this.” He looked at the ring and tossed it on the sofa.

  ***

  Ailsa was gobsmacked.

  “But it doesn’t matter does it? We’re over,” he repeated. He laid the ring box on the table between them. “I should never have taken things so seriously.”

  Ailsa reeled as she watched Nick pace. He looked at her; she could see hurt and anger there in the tight, hard planes of his jaw but there was also resignation.

  “You’ve decided the list thing’s completed, that’s good,” the way he said it made it sound positively disreputable. “I guess I’ll be getting along like a good little man. I’ve serviced you sufficiently and my time as the favoured one is over.”

  Ailsa felt her emotions cyclone. She palmed her temples.

  “You know that’s not true.”

  “Isn’t it?” he yelled.

  She knew she’d been caught, caged; fighting with her own mixed up logic.

  She pleaded, “I had no idea you were thinking long term like this. I just thought getting things straight would be sensible. I can’t believe we’ve crossed wires so badly. It’s better to end it this way.”

  “Better for who?” Nick pushed a large strong hand out to take her wrist. “Do you know I’ve been making excuses to stay here longer? Working out how Jake’s future can fit? How I can ensure you stay part of my life. Now you’re giving me the brush off like your list’s had the final tick.”

  “One of us has to be sensible,” she breathed. He turned away from her as if he’d been scalded.

  “Which saves me making a total fool of myself making stupid declarations.” Nick grabbed his coat and picked up his keys. They hadn’t unpacked; the only evidence of their brief sojourn was the opened but untouched champagne. The cleaner would be delighted. A portrait of it could’ve been titled, Premature Proposal.

 

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