‘I’m happy to share the gory details, if you’re interested.’
Had she imagined the inflection on the word interested?
‘It started out much the same as a lot of relationships, I guess. We met through mutual friends and hit it off. She’s one of those impossibly beautiful society women—polished, charming, always knows what to say.’
‘I hate her already.’
He chuckled.
Callie tried to not stare. His mouth had lost the hard edge it usually wore when he spoke of his ex. ‘How did you find her out?’
‘I startled her one afternoon. I walked into the apartment we shared and she closed the lid of her laptop a bit too quickly, as if she didn’t want me to see what she’d been reading. It sent alarm bells off in my head.’ He pursed his lips. ‘It wasn’t the first time, and I couldn’t shake the feeling something was...off. Anyway, the doorbell rang and it was her bridesmaids, and they all went off for a dress fitting. When she was gone, I had a look at her browsing history.’
What on earth had he found that could have damned the other woman so completely? ‘What did you find?’
‘She’d been researching the best lawyers for divorce settlements.’
Callie’s hand flew to her mouth.
‘So I waited a couple of days and then told her that my business was in trouble, and as a result we’d have to downscale both the wedding and where we’d planned to live.’
‘How did she take that?’
‘Went ballistic and told me if she couldn’t have the wedding she’d always dreamed of she wouldn’t marry me.’
‘Nice to see she was so supportive!’
‘I told her then that I knew she’d been researching divorce lawyers and settlements, and that her reaction to my supposed financial woes spoke volumes. That’s when it got ugly.’ He kinked an eyebrow at Callie. ‘She isn’t the kind of woman who’s used to not getting her own way, and she let me have it with both barrels. Apparently the deal was she’d get my money while I got the satisfaction of marrying up.’
‘Marrying...up?’ Callie spluttered. What was wrong with these entitled people? Her mother had been right!
He rested his head against the back of the sofa. ‘Apparently she planned to use my money to save her family’s fortune. Once that was done she planned to divorce me—and take me for everything she could get, of course.’
‘Of course...’ she echoed faintly.
‘A child featured in this plan of hers too.’ For the briefest of moments his mouth tightened. ‘She planned to get pregnant and...’
She’d planned to use their child as a weapon against him? ‘Oh, Owen.’ No wonder he was so damn gun-shy now when it came to relationships. ‘I’m sorry. What a dreadful experience. I—’
‘All I can see now, though, is what a lucky escape I had. And you’ve reminded me that not all women—in fact not even the majority—are out for what they can get. I find myself...weirdly grateful.’
‘Which is better than being bitter,’ she agreed slowly.
‘And I’ve been meaning to thank you for something else too.’
She took a sip of beer, trying to ignore the latent power of his body that was starting to sing a siren song to her. ‘Oh?’
‘I had a good talk with Lissy and sorted everything out.’
‘I’m so glad!’ His half-sister was smart and sassy, and she’d quickly become one of Callie’s favourite people. Besides their shopping trip, they’d also spent a day in the city sightseeing, plus had another two dinner-and-movie nights at Owen’s.
‘She was taken in by Fiona too—totally fooled by her. Until Fiona “tactfully—”’ he made air quotes ‘—told Lissy that she was taking up too much of my time, was too demanding, and that maybe it was time for her to grow up a bit and stand on her own two feet.’
Callie’s feet slammed to the floor. ‘She did what? What a complete and utter—’
‘I know.’
‘I hope you told Lissy that any woman who treats her like that isn’t worth your time of day, and is not someone you want to be in a relationship with, and...and...’
He reached out and squeezed her hand. ‘I did. We sorted everything out. I’ve also promised to do my best to stop being such an overbearing, bossy big brother. We’re good, Callie.’ He squeezed her hand again. ‘And that’s because of you. Thank you.’
She should pull her hand from his. She should, but she didn’t want to.
‘So I’ve been thinking...’ he started. ‘If you get this job—and I think it’s a sure thing given your video—’
‘It would help if I could find out who my father is,’ she inserted.
‘Well, I’ve been thinking...you’d be based in the States, right?’
She nodded.
‘Does that mean you’ll stay in New York?’
Something in his tone had her lifting her gaze from the sparkly purple nail polish on her toes to his deep smoky gaze. ‘I... I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far ahead.’
‘Tonight I realised that in the month you’ve been living in this apartment you’ve built a nice little community here. It’d be a shame to uproot yourself and start over somewhere new.’
She opened her mouth. She closed it again. If she could live in any part of America... ‘This tiny bit of New York feels a lot like home,’ she said slowly, realising it was true.
With infinite care, he lowered his feet to the rug, something in his gaze darkening and deepening. He set his beer on the coffee table and then took hers and set it beside it. ‘Good.’
Her heart tried to beat a path out of her chest. ‘Good...?’
One strong hand lifted to trace her cheek, while the other slid beneath her hair to cradle the back of her head.
‘It’s very good, Callie.’
His thumb traced her bottom lip, sensitising it until her breath hitched and the pulse in her throat fluttered.
‘Owen?’ His name was nothing more than a breath of a whisper.
‘I find I don’t want to say goodbye to you, Callie.’
And with that his mouth lowered to hers and she lifted her lips to meet it, helpless to resist the pull between them.
She’d expected the kiss to be slow and sweet, becoming hypnotically drugging as it deepened. It was nothing of the sort. The moment their mouths met they both fired to life—as if a current of pure energy had passed between them. Immediate hunger roared through her. Hunger that demanded satisfaction and release. Now.
Her fingers buried themselves in the thickness of his hair as she tried to draw him closer. His hands went to her waist and he lifted her into his lap, so she could straddle him and plaster herself against his chest in a move that felt like utter perfection. The alternative was for him to push her back into the sofa and cover her body with his but, while she hungered for that too, she appreciated the autonomy this move gave her, the sense of control.
Not that she had any control!
Drugging kiss after drugging kiss had her losing all sense of time. Owen kissed her with a single-minded focus that undid her completely and had her holding nothing back. She dragged his shirt from the waistband of his jeans to run her fingers across the hot, firm flesh beneath, and he hissed out a breath before raking his nails lightly up her thighs, now exposed as her dress rode high. She had to brace both hands against his ribs as a tremor shook through her.
Growing too impatient with the buttons on his shirt, she tore it open, buttons flying in every direction.
‘I like your style.’ He grinned at her—a lazy uplift of his lips that momentarily infuriated her because it hinted at a control she could no longer boast.
Lowering her head to one flat male nipple, she grazed it with her teeth, wiping the smirk from his face.
He swore softly, his hips bucking against hers. ‘Callie.’
She i
gnored him to turn her attention to his other nipple until, with another oath, he snaked his hands beneath her dress to cup her buttocks and draw her more firmly against the hard length of him, thrusting up against her. A sob was dragged from her throat as light burst behind her eyelids, and her fingers dug into his biceps to keep her from falling.
‘Callie.’
She obeyed the command in his voice to lift her head and meet his gaze. Then he stared at the row of buttons that ran down the length of her dress and his eyes darkened almost to black. Her fingers tightened against his biceps when he licked his lips.
‘Undo your buttons.’
His words were part plea, part command, and all sin.
He made her feel powerful and wholly desirable. He made her want to slowly undo each button—to unwrap herself for him—until he was nearly out of his mind with need and greed and impatience. But if she did that there’d be no turning back.
The tips of his fingers had slipped beneath the edge of her panties and they caressed her bare skin, sending ripples of pleasure radiating outwards and making the very centre of her ache with need. She wanted those fingers exploring further, to more intimate places, but...
‘I figure you’d be less than impressed if I tore all those buttons off that pretty dress.’
‘No tearing,’ she panted.
He stilled, as if sensing her hesitation. ‘Do you want to stop?’
‘No, I just...’ She shook her head, trying to clear it. ‘I can’t help feeling we should think this through more. When we were at Ellerslie we said it was a bad idea...’ It didn’t feel like a bad idea. It felt like the answer to all her prayers. ‘But the minute I—’
She slipped her top button undone. She hadn’t meant to, but her fingers, it appeared, had other ideas. Owen swallowed, and she almost tore open the rest of the buttons then and there.
His fingers tightened on her buttocks, as if he were trying to get a grip on his own wayward desires, but in doing so he only fed hers.
‘Callie, I have no answers about any of this. I only know I want to keep seeing you. I’m attracted to you—there’s no denying that—but I like you too. I trust you. When I’m with you I’m...happy. Knowing you has made me feel hopeful again.’
How could she resist that? How could any woman resist it?
‘I know you said this was the wrong time for you to start something new,’ he went on, ‘but I promise not to stand in the way of your job. I don’t want to stand in the way of any of your dreams. But if you’re planning to remain in the States then I don’t see why we can’t keep seeing each other.’ He hauled in a breath. ‘If you want to.’
They could...
‘We can take things as slowly as you like. I’ve no desire to rush you. We can stop right now if that’s what you want.’
She didn’t want to stop. And everything he’d just said sounded perfect.
Her fingers went back to her buttons and she slid each one from its buttonhole with fingers that were suddenly sure. His lips parted with undisguised hunger when she pushed the dress from her shoulders to pool at her waist. If possible, the bulge pressing at the juncture of her thighs grew bigger and harder when she unclasped her bra and dropped it to the floor behind her.
His expression made her feel like the most desirable woman on earth.
‘Utter perfection,’ he murmured, his gaze caressing her skin before he leaned forward and drew one nipple into the heat of his mouth, suckling hard.
Callie cried out, arching into him, her fingers digging into his shoulders, urging him on.
‘I only date exclusively.’ He laved her nipple with his tongue, sending a cataclysm of delight dancing across her skin. ‘If you can’t agree to that then we need to stop before this goes any further.’
When he pulled her other nipple into his mouth, grazing it gently with his teeth with such loving attention, she surrendered utterly. ‘When you do that, Owen,’ she gasped, ‘you can have anything you damn well please.’
* * *
Owen knew the exact moment Callie woke. He registered her sleepy realisation that she wasn’t alone, the slight pucker of her brows and then the clearing of her frown. She opened her eyes and her smile came without hesitation.
‘Good morning.’
Her husky morning voice could devastate a mere mortal, and Owen felt himself falling hard. Not that he had any intention of saying as much and scaring the living daylights out of her.
Instead he grinned back. ‘Good morning.’
And then he kissed her, revelling in her warm sweetness and the way she pulled him closer, as if she couldn’t get enough of him. He couldn’t stop his hands from roving over her delectable curves. Not that he tried too hard to resist the temptation. They’d made love several times last night, but the way her clever hands touched him—a deliberate boldness and teasing flirtatiousness, mixed with wonder and hunger—undid him.
Nobody had ever touched him like that before—as if his body had been made for her hands alone. And he made love to her again now with a newfound tenderness, losing himself in her breathless sighs and the way she whispered his name. She cried out as she came apart in his arms and light splintered behind his eyelids as he followed her into a kaleidoscope of ecstasy more intense than any he’d ever experienced.
It took a long time for their breathing to return to normal. He turned his head on the pillow to find her curled up on her side, watching him. Late morning sunshine spilled into the room, highlighting the creamy warmth of her skin and the rosy plumpness of her mouth.
‘Okay?’ he murmured.
‘Very okay. You?’
‘Never better.’
She frowned, but it wasn’t the kind of frown to reach her eyes. ‘I’m happy.’
He reached out to trace a finger along her cheek. ‘That surprises you?’
‘I thought I might wake up this morning with...’
His chest clenched. ‘Regrets?’ Had he pushed too hard last night? Should he have given her more time?
‘Not regrets. I was never going to regret making love with you, Owen.’
He was glad she called it making love rather than sleeping with or hooking up or any of those other less intimate terms. Because what they’d done had felt intimate—not casual or temporary.
‘I just thought I might wake worried about the future and wondering if we’d made a mistake or feeling as if we’d rushed into this.’
‘But you don’t?’
‘I just feel...happy.’
It was enough for now.
He forced himself out of bed and reached for his jeans, though he almost launched himself back into bed at the heat in her gaze as it roved over his naked body. Instead he concentrated on drawing his jeans up over his hips without doing himself an injury.
‘Do you have plans for the day?’
She shook her head.
‘Hungry?’
‘Starving.’
‘Then let me take you to brunch. Frankie’s is the best deli in New York. They do blueberry pancakes that will have you thinking you’ve died and gone to heaven.’
‘Sounds fab.’
‘I’ll head downstairs for a shower.’ He pressed a kiss to her lips. ‘Why don’t you head on down when—?’
His gaze caught on the stack of letters on Callie’s bedside table. Callie’s letters from Frances. Unopened.
He glanced back at her and she bit her lip, some of the light leaving her eyes. ‘I just...’ Her fingers pleated the sheet. ‘I just haven’t been able to.’
A burn started up deep in his chest. She’d had so much to come to terms with in the last few weeks.
‘Owen, just for today, can we not talk about it?’
He reached out to touch her face. ‘Deal. Today is just about you and me.’
‘Thank you.’
Her smile was
the only reward he needed. ‘I’ll see you downstairs whenever you’re ready?’
She nodded, her eyes sparkling again.
He hummed all the way down to his basement apartment. And if he sensed his progress being noted by several residents in the block, it didn’t perturb him in the slightest.
CHAPTER TEN
‘YOU’RE SURE ABOUT THIS?’
Callie glanced across the serving of hot chips lying on greaseproof paper between her and Owen and forced herself to nod. She mightn’t have much enthusiasm for this upcoming appointment, but she had every intention of going through with it and meeting Frances’s second husband, Richard Bateman.
The last four days had passed in a bubble of exhilaration and bliss. She and Owen had spent most of that time laughing and making love. And he’d shown her all his favourite haunts in Greenwich and the West Village. It had been perfect—as if she’d suddenly remembered how to have fun again after a hundred years of misery and gloom. Which didn’t make sense. So little of her life had been either miserable or gloomy.
She stole a glance at him. She couldn’t shake a sense of unease—as if this thing between them was too perfect and couldn’t possibly last.
Don’t be daft! How can anything be too perfect?
She tried to calm the sudden pounding of her heart. She hadn’t embarked on this relationship either too quickly or with too little forethought. Why should she have hesitated? Owen was ten times the man Dominic was. She loved spending time with him.
‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ he asked. ‘You’re very quiet.’
She forced herself to smile. ‘I’m fine. Just...taking it all in.’
They’d arrived in Larchmont ninety minutes ago, and Owen had driven her around the pretty harbour. They’d walked down the main street, with its assortment of boutiques, bakeries and delis. They’d taken some video footage—just in case. And now they’d settled on the grass in the park with a view of the beach to eat their lunch of what she called chips and he called fries.
The town was lovely—really pretty. The company was great. In fact, the company was the best ever. The sun shone and the air was warmer and more fragrant than she’d so far experienced while she’d been in America. But her appetite had deserted her. And, although he smiled, Owen couldn’t hide the concern in his eyes.
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