by Ally Blake
After the wedding.
After Nate.
She stuck the key in the ignition and then let her hand drop.
Marlee had told her not to lie to herself, and the God’s honest truth was that with the swarm of foreboding the woman had whipped up inside of her, all she wanted to do was go to Nate.
It was the strangest feeling. In fact it close to feeling a heck of a lot like need. Her hand shook a little as she dialled his mobile number. Shaking her hair from her ear, she waited for him to pick up.
“Saskia,” he said.
And even while she told herself it was mental, financial, sexual, mutually helpful, at times frustrating, his voice sent happy goosebumps all over her skin. “Can I come over tonight?”
When silence ensued she clamped her eyes shut tight and said, “Ever since you described your place I’ve imagined a deer head on the wall above your bed. I can’t sleep for not knowing if I’m right.”
“Well,” he said finally, “I’d hate to be the reason you can’t sleep. How’s eight?”
“Eight’s great.”
“Bring your PJs. For helping with the sleeping.”
“One problem with that.”
“Hmm?”
“I never wear any. No word of a lie.”
* * *
“Texas,” Saskia said, her voice far away, drowsily running her finger around the edges of the birthmark on Nate’s naked thigh. “I honestly see Texas.”
“It’s roundish,” he murmured, lifting his heavy head a half an inch off the padded edge of his big deep tub before letting it drop. His fingers never stopped trailing lazily up and down her feet, which were propped on his shoulder.
Saskia slipped an inch lower, revelling in the hot water, the decadent bubbles, the dreamy sound of Nat King Cole playing through Nate’s fancy system, too deep in afterglow to do much more than blink fuzzily at the fake—as it turned out—rhinoceros head suspended on the stark grey wall over Nate’s shoulder.
“Unless you’re a contortionist,” she said, “or handy with a mirror, you’d never know.”
“I’ve been told. By women of good authority.”
“How’s that? Did your sisters pin you down and measure it out?”
“Never happened,” he rumbled in warning. “I might be outnumbered, but I’m smart. And crafty. And strong.”
Before she even felt him move he tugged, nearly dunking her under the wash of spicy-scented bubbles. She came up spluttering as he pulled her feet apart and drew her towards him till there was nothing to do but straddle his thighs and grab his big shoulders.
“Evidently,” she said, settling. The hairs of his legs rasped against all too sensitive skin.
She wiped the bubbles from her hair, and twisted the length over her shoulder.
Nate’s eyes followed the movement, changing to a darker shade of heaven as he watched the trail of water wavering down her collarbone, over the rise of her breasts where bubbles slid south. His knees lifted, pressing her forward, nudging her centre against the thickness of his.
“What was it like?” she asked. “Growing up with sisters.”
As soon as the words came out of her mouth she stilled, waiting for him to shut down. For the worshipping touch of his eyes to cloud over.
“Loud,” he said, surprising her.
Saskia breathed out.
“I’m not sure if it’s a female thing, or a Mackenzie female thing, but no matter how I laid down the law they could never keep their hands off my stuff.”
Saskia didn’t have any sisters to compare them to, but she thought of Lissy, of the pieces of Lissy’s clothing hanging in her closet, the books and DVDs of hers lost in the depths of Lissy’s apartment. “Female thing, I think. Bonding, perhaps? Nesting, maybe?”
“What was it like growing up with no sisters?”
“Quiet.”
He cocked a half smile.
“Especially when my father would have preferred to spend a beautiful spring day in the university library rather than playing in a park.”
“And what was she like? Your mother?”
“Dad didn’t talk about her much. Only when he saw her in me. When I was acting ‘too colourful,’ as he put it.”
“He never married again?”
“He never married at all. From the bits and pieces I managed to gather I came to think of my mum as a free spirit—his one brief shining moment and his cautionary tale.” She’d seen them try though—students, fellow scholars, even a Dean or two, but her clever, handsome, distant father had remained impassive. Married to his work, they’d all sigh, only Saskia had seen the rare flashes of pain that would pass over his eyes when he looked at her, as if he was seeing her mother...the one who ruined him for all others. And knowing it, she’d tried harder to make it all better.
“I at least had my dad till I was into my teens. Long enough to identify what it meant to be a man,” he said, surprising her again.
Saskia swallowed at his words. At the thought of a boy of fifteen having to take on that mantle. When his eyes found hers, she said, “It was what it was. Maybe easier because I never knew any different.”
“Maybe. Now, promise me...”
Anything. “Mmm?”
“Not a single thing we’ve done together had better end up in that damnable pink thing of yours.”
“Hmm...” His eyes connected with hers, a smile curling at the corner of his sensuous mouth.
Then his hands left her hips to dig into the flesh at her waist. Saskia’s eyes fluttered shut, her mouth tipping open as he rocked her forward, creating the most gorgeous pressure inside her.
But her head was filled with so many more questions. About his childhood, his family, his relationships, his choices. How they’d all intertwined to make him who he was. To keep him from getting close to someone special. Because whether it was the water, the lethargy, the bubbles, the fact that they hadn’t stopped touching one another for even half a second, something had relaxed him, given him ease.
When his hand lifted to run down her torso, from collarbone to belly, the questions fled. When he took her hips, his thumbs sweeping her inner thighs, she struggled to remember her own name.
He lifted to kiss her neck, nip at her shoulder, to draw her wet nipple into his mouth. His hand moved between them, sliding along her seam with gorgeous restraint. Another finger followed, with less restraint, and while a minute before she would have considered herself spent, from one heartbeat to the next she felt drenched with desire. Her eyes were unseeing, her breath a mere instinct. She wrapped her arms around his head, pressed against him, took his fingers inside as he held her tight, and rode the arc of exquisite need.
There was that word again.
“Nate?” she whispered.
“Shhh...” he said, before taking her mouth with his, his hot, slick lips feeding her the most devastating kisses of her life.
And any disquiet dissolved into a haze as he pulled back and locked his gaze to hers, the stunning blue so dark with desire emotion rose thick and fast within her, expanding till it filled her all the way to her throat. There it stopped, as pleasure and pressure built inside her, and from there it was released, and the roar of his name echoed off the walls as she fell apart.
Truly spent, Saskia collapsed into Nate’s arms. He held her there, a hand tracing her spine, the other twisting her hair as wave after beautiful wave of aftershock trembled through her.
Feeling the pound of Nate’s heart against her own, Saskia took a breath, stilled her mind, forgot herself and heard her own heart.
This, it said.
And she knew exactly what it meant.
Nate Mackenzie might not talk about himself as much as she wished, but when she was with him he was more present than any man she’d ever known.
He was the first man who’d ever been with her not because he needed to be but because he wanted to be. And that made more of a difference than she’d ever imagined.
But not Nate, she told her heart. Not him.
It said nothing back. It seemed her heart had exhausted its wisdom for the moment.
“We ever going to actually make it to a bed, do you think?” she said, her voice thick.
“One of these days.”
She felt Nate’s smile against her shoulder. And then his teeth scraped over her rose tattoo before he replaced them with a gentle kiss. She didn’t need to count to know exactly how many days they had left together. It was permanently imprinted on her brain, like the ticking of a time bomb.
“In fact...” said Nate, and he dragged himself upright, bubbles and water slewing over his glorious golden skin, till he stood before her, a supreme example of manhood in every which way.
Then he pulled her to her feet, threw her over his shoulder, and padded out of the ridiculously large en suite bathroom, into his bedroom which, with its elegant striped wallpaper, leather-backed bed and dark wood trim, looked as if it had come straight out of the set of Mad Men.
“Wow!” she said, her hands on his hips. “Testosterone central.”
“The faux rhino wasn’t evidence enough? Told you—the designer went mad.”
He gave her bottom a kiss before throwing her on the bed. She bounced and settled, still covered in bubbles, and watched as he found a condom, slid it into place, his eyes roving over her wet, naked form as if he couldn’t decide where to start...
Later, Saskia lay sated beneath luxurious sheets. Nate’s arm was slung heavily across her hip, hooked so his hand settled between her breasts, and the tips of his long fingers were close enough to kiss.
In that soft place between awake and asleep, with the hot, hard length of him nestled in behind her, the last thing that entered her mind before consciousness finally eluded her, was:
This.
* * *
Saskia woke to the sound of a phone ringing. One eyelid at half-mast, she reached out for it—only to knock over a big rectangular lamp with an elephant built into the base, and an Art Deco clock from a low mahogany bedside table.
Nate’s bedside table.
Her eyes popped open like a Pop-Tart in a toaster. She’d slept over? She’d slept over. Oh, God! She’d only meant to drift off for a few minutes, regain some strength, then kiss him to distraction before heading off into the night as if what they were playing at was nothing but fun and games.
Not...not what her heart had hinted at the night before. The same heart that now gave her an unfamiliar little squeeze hello. She shut the thing down and glanced over the side of the bed at the clock on the floor to see it was some time after ten, meaning Nate would be long gone.
He could have woken her, though, sent her on her way before he left. She couldn’t help but feel a little chuffed that he’d trusted her enough to leave her be. Unless he had really good security.
Her phone rang again, and she kicked at the charcoal-grey bedding hooked around her legs, then rushed naked to the chunky leather chaise in the corner of the huge room. Rummaging in her massive bag, she found her phone. Withheld number. Probably a client.
Sitting, naked, with a whump on the edge of the couch she answered, “SassyStats. Saskia Bloom speaking.”
“Hi, Saskia!” twin voices shouted down the phone.
No. It couldn’t be.
“It’s Hope,” said one.
Then, “And Faith. We nicked your number from Nate’s phone the day you came over. Anyhoo, we have a free morning and thought how nice it would be to get to know you better—considering.”
Considering what? That she was sitting on their brother’s chaise naked? She grabbed a deep red afghan and covered herself to her neck.
“We thought coffee at Chadstone?” said one.
The other added, “Then shopping. Hope’s a stylist, so she’ll find you the perfect thing.”
“For...?”
“The wedding! Two birds with one stone.”
Saskia wondered momentarily what these two birds would do with a stone if they knew her relationship with their beloved brother was all a lie.
“Please say you’ll come,” Hope said hopefully.
Saskia nibbled at her bottom lip.
Saying no would seem plain rude, which wouldn’t help Nate’s cause. And she’d not actually considered what she’d wear to the wedding. Clothes weren’t really her thing, and considering her finances it had been months since she’d been able to afford even to update her undies.
And then it hit her—she knew how much Nate hated talking about himself, so using him as her infographic/love formula test bunny had been harder than getting blood from a stone. But he’d never expressly asked that she not talk to his family.
Three birds with one stone...
“I do need a dress,” she said, and Faith near deafened her with excitement as she barked orders down the phone as to when and where they’d meet.
Only after she’d hung up the phone and was taking advantage of Nate’s enormous dual-headed shower—keeping her back to the fake rhinoceros head which seemed to watch her no matter where she was in the room—did she wonder if she should have checked with Nate first.
But, no matter how it looked, he wasn’t her boyfriend. So as long as she kept within the bounds of their agreement he didn’t get a say. Besides, he would have said, No way in hell.
She wasn’t as convinced that she’d made the right decision an hour later as Faith and Hope curled their grips into the crooks of her elbows and dragged her all over Chadstone.
“You even smell like him, you know,” said Faith, as they hit the top of the escalator and headed towards designer row.
Saskia sniffed her shoulder, and realised she did. “Must be his shower gel,” she said, a moment before realising what she’d just given away. “Too much information.”
“No. You have no idea how happy it makes me.” Hope gave her a happy bump with her hip. “We were all beginning to think he was actually serious in his efforts not to settle down. And then you came along and we all let out a long, thankful breath.”
“Oh. Right.” Saskia bit her lip to stop herself saying anything more. Even while she knew Nate would be thrilled to the tips of his designer socks that his sisters were so far off the scent, she’d never counted on the fact that they’d see her as anything other than the last in a long line of future exes. That they’d care.
A little twinge of guilt took up residence in her belly.
Saskia was down to her bra and undies in a change room when Faith’s voice sing-songed from the other side of the curtain. “Think of the babies you two would make. Sweet, serious little things that’d charm a lolly out of a candy machine.”
Saskia poked her head around the edge of the huge velvet curtain as the guilt began to churn. “Faith, I—” God, how to put this? “Nate and I are having a really good time together, but babies are...not on the agenda. Yet. For a good long while. If at all. Okay?”
“We know,” said Faith, holding the netting of a fascinator over her eyes as she pulled kissy faces at a nearby mirror.
The way she said it made the guilt churning in Saskia’s stomach turn to lumps.
“You know what, exactly?” Saskia called, grabbing at the heavy velvet curtain which kept slipping out of her grip.
“About the pre-engagement,” said Hope, who now came at her from nowhere with a filmy, frilly red dress that looked like something out of a gangster movie.
Saskia held out a finger to take the hanger. “I’m sorry—the pre-what?”
Hope angled her head behind Saskia and she glanced back to see that her cotton-covered backside was in full view of the store in the m
irror at her back. She let the curtain swing closed and looked at herself, cheeks pink, hair a tumble, the red dress clutched to her front like a great figurative scarlet letter.
EIGHT
“You told your family we are pre-
engaged?”
Nate looked up from the conference table, where he and Gabe were knocking back double espressos and doughnuts as they strategised the next step in landing a new account, to find Saskia barrelling down on him, her face a mask of fury.
Too many things hit him at once.
First, Saskia was looking about as damn cute as any woman had the right to look, even in an odd get-up of tight army pants, cropped leather jacket, mottled scarf and huge floppy beanie.
Next, Saskia’s brow was furrowed, her sultry eyes wild, cheeks pink, lips a deep red—as close to how she looked when she fell apart in his arms as he’d ever seen her in daylight.
Lastly, Saskia had apparently been talking to his family.
“Pre-engaged?” Gabe repeated, when Nate said nothing at all. Then Gabe laughed, the deep sound echoing off the walls of glass enclosing the imposing room.
Saskia’s fiery gaze shot to Gabe and she stuck a hand on her hip and nodded. “I know, right? What the hell is pre-engaged anyway? A man made that up, for sure. As a way to get out of ever actually being engaged.”
“You got that right,” Gabe said. “If you want a woman you get married. No in between.”
“Thank you!”
“What kind of bling do you get for being pre-engaged?” Gabe asked, turning in his chair to direct that one to Nate, his dark eyes laughing their proverbial asses off. “Semi-precious at best.”
Nate angled his head at Gabe then towards the door. Out. Now.
“Oh, no, no, no,” Saskia said, waggling her finger at them both. “Of all the men in this room right now I like him best. So he can stay. Why not? He might know more about our ‘burgeoning relationship’ than I do.”
