Australia: Wicked Mistresses

by Robyn Grady

  He shifted her robe and feather-kissed her shoulder. “Did I mention I can multi-task?”

  She tugged her robe back. This was a gorgeous place, and he was an amazing lover, but…“If you want me to stay here—if you really want to help me—then you’re going to have to let me help you too. I won’t loll around with you in bed half the day and then watch you explode like you did at the cabin yesterday because you’re angry with yourself for slacking off.”

  “Being here is different—”

  “Yes, it’s worse. By tomorrow everyone will know I’m shacked up with a guest.”

  And she’d thought she’d been a target before. It would be worse for her when it was discovered that Gabriel Steele—the guest she’d temporarily moved in with—was everyone’s new boss.

  She might as well ask.

  “When are you going to tell the staff who you are?”

  “Not this visit,” he stated. “There’s enough to look at with the managers and facilities.”

  “Don’t you want to give them a chance to speak out on what they think could make a difference? They’re the ones who keep this place ticking over.”

  The bungalow telephone extension pealed and, closing his eyes, Gabriel rested one stacked fist on his brow. “You’re going to tell me to get that, aren’t you?”

  You bet. “No rest for the wicked.”

  He sprang over, about to decimate her with a takeno-prisoners kiss, but then a shadow chased over his face and he backed away.

  “I hate to admit it, but you’re right. As much as I want to stay here with you, I have to do what I have to do.”

  As he left her alone in his bedroom, Nina let out a long breath. There was another reason she’d put forward her ultimatum, and it was as significant as Gabriel’s need to focus on his work, rather than on sex. Self-preservation.

  They’d been together perhaps thirty-six hours and, remarkable as it might sound, she’d never felt more deeply about any man. Convincing herself she could have more with Gabriel than a holiday fling would be easier than demolishing a piece of Chef Reynolds’ chocolate marshmallow tart. She felt so right when they were together—so perfectly, wonderfully right—as though, even if she never belonged anywhere else, it was okay because she did belong in his arms.

  But she’d known before that his interest in her was casual, and after his admission about getting married being scary she’d be a fool to think he was after anything remotely long-term. At the moment her self-worth was shaky enough. The last thing she needed was to fall in love with someone who couldn’t love her back.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  LATE Friday morning, Gabriel returned after his third meeting with the Diamond Shores managers.

  He stepped into the bungalow’s foyer, wringing his tie loose and expecting Nina to come bounding out, like she usually did, to hear any news. He’d taken her advice and introduced himself to the staff. Since Wednesday he’d met with the resort conference people, recreation personnel, wait staff and, at nine this morning, house-keeping.

  The exercise had gone well.

  He jogged down the two timber steps that linked the foyer to main room and threw a look around the gleaming furniture and potted palms. Dropping his tie over the back of a bar stool, he moved onto the balcony.

  The sky was a flawless early-summer blue, the air was fresh with the scent of brine, and in his private pool, stretched out before the beach, Nina was doing laps. Gabriel’s testosterone levels swirled to the roof. He was a heartbeat away from kicking off his shoes, shucking off his clothes and diving straight in.

  Nina in a bikini was impossible to pass up.

  The other morning she’d told him that she wanted to downgrade their relationship to platonic. She didn’t want to be a distraction when he had so much to accomplish here. She’d been right. He would rather fool around with her than knuckle down to the massive task of returning profitability to this establishment. And so he’d kept his distance—no easy feat.

  But at no time had he actually agreed to her terms.

  During business hours things were moving in the right direction, but when night fell the tension back at the bungalow was tripwire-tight. Lounging in the living room, or out on the deck, sometimes Gabriel had to bite his inside cheek to stop from swooping over and stashing Nina away in his room. Watching her concentrate on doing a crossword, or chewing her nails over some reality TV show, was akin to passing out in the world’s hottest sauna when the most delectable, quenching nectar was waiting an arm’s length away.

  He wasn’t alone in feeling that fire. He’d caught Nina’s hidden looks when he passed, noticed the way her breathing deepened whenever they were close.

  Now, with her wet, pumped and half-naked in that pool, was the time to revisit that ultimatum of hers. They were leaving the island on Monday. If she felt half as sexually frustrated as he did, she couldn’t refuse the idea of one last hold-onto-your-seatbelts romp.

  Moving to the edge of the pool, he hunkered down onto the terracotta tiles. He watched her graceful form glide through the water before she came up for air a foot away. She pushed hair from her face, drove down a big breath, then coughed it back up when she saw him.

  He chuckled at her surprise and eventual smile before holding out his hand. “I’ve given myself the rest of the day off.”

  “Welcome home.”

  She took his hand, he helped her out, and she grabbed a towel off a nearby lounger. He hid his disappointment when that delicious red bikini was part-way concealed as she wiped down her hair and tanned arms.

  “I heard you were speaking with Tori today,” she said.

  His gaze skated up from what he could see of her legs.

  “News travels fast.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Remind me who Tori is again.”

  “Tall, blonde. She might’ve been wearing watermelon wedge earrings.”

  “Ah, yes. She had quite a bit to say.”

  “Anything useful?”

  “The gist was the same as my previous staff meetings. She’d like to see protocol and activities relaxed. Less formal. More fun. Or at least room for that somewhere on the island.”

  “Maybe you should wear Bermuda shorts to the next meeting.”

  He mock frowned. “I’ll take that under advisement. I’ve been looking through stacks of guest comments,” he went on, moving to the sun loungers. “A lot mentioned updating too.”

  “Facilities?”

  “Policies, entertainment, staff uniforms.”

  “Tori and her earrings will be pleased to hear it.”

  “I have plenty to go on.”

  Lashing the towel under her arms, sarong-style, she crossed over.

  “What about a staff buddy system? If the longer-serving staff members had younger ones under their care and tutelage we’d get a better vibe through the ranks. There’s nothing worse than being told to fold the napkins a certain way and having no idea but being too frightened to ask.” Her expression wavered. “I suppose I should have known…”

  “No, no. Point taken. Everyone needs to get more involved with the next guy—or gal.”

  “If guests saw a real camaraderie among the staff, I bet they’d relax more too. You could start a new ad campaign, promoting a more laid-back slant.”

  Interested, he made a mental note.

  “I have some other news.” He sat on the end of the nearest lounger. “April’s wedding is back on. Her fiancé stood up to his parents’ demands and is marrying April with or without the pre-nup.”

  Nina punched the air—yes!—then sat down too. “Good for him!”

  “I want you to come with me.”

  Her animated face froze. “To the wedding?”

  “I’ve put in a special request that the desserts must be doubly to die for.”

  He could imagine the cogs spinning in her mind. Should she? Shouldn’t she? Did partnering him at a wedding breach the platonic line she’d drawn in the sand? Mere semantics. That snag would be fixed soon enough any
way.

  Finally her expression eased and she nodded. “Sure. I’d love to go.”

  “Done.” He stood and pulled her up too. “Now, grab some shorts and a top. We need a change of scenery.”

  By noon they were aboard a thirty-six-foot sailing yacht, heading out for a leisurely cruise around some of the other Great Barrier Reef islands. After they’d left the bay and were in open waters, Gabriel let Nina steer.

  Her hands clutched the wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white. But he was standing close by, enjoying the view of salt air whipping through her hair while seafaring exhilaration built on her face. When they anchored near a coral ledge, they stripped to swimsuits and slipped into the crystal-clear water. With masks and snorkels they floated out together and wove over a world of marine life that darted between fingers of jade, pink, aqua and vermilion coral.

  Iridescent blue angel fish, gold and white striped harlequin tuskfish, parrot fish, butterfly fish…so vivid and brilliant and clear. He chuckled to himself at the fresh wide-eyed wonder behind her mask when she pointed out an ancient turtle swimming by, close enough to touch.

  After they’d climbed back on board and showered off, taking advantage of the dwindling breeze, Gabriel manoeuvred the yacht into a remote island cove. There was barely a breath of wind left by the time he dropped anchor.

  Perfect. The weather report had been spot-on.

  He laid out a picnic blanket on the timber deck beneath the shade of the sail, while Nina organised prawns, oysters, pineapple and fresh mango for a late lunch spread. He poured Chardonnay into plastic goblets and she peeled two enormous prawns. Looking up at the mast, then at the palm trees fringing the unpopulated island’s white-lined shore, she bit into the flesh. Chewing, and still looking around, she wiped her fingers on a paper towel.

  “Everything’s so quiet,” she said.

  “No wind.”

  Stretching out her legs and resting back on one arm, she accepted a goblet of wine. “Don’t sails need wind? How do we get back?”

  “I have oars.” He raised his glass. “Cheers.”

  She smiled. “I’m getting an interesting visual. But really…”

  While she sipped, he peered up at the vigilant gulls wheeling overhead. Not a cloud in the sky. Plenty of food and good wine. A beautiful, sassy woman, in an amazing flaming red bikini—who wanted to leave?

  He shrugged. “We’ll have to wait it out.” No need for her to know about the inboard motor.

  She sat up. “How long do you think?”

  “You have something to rush back to?”

  “Not a thing.”

  He wasn’t quite sure how to take her tone. Had she done all she could with regard to finding another job—sending out more résumés, contacting industry friends—Or had she resigned herself to packing up and leaving in a couple of days without a job to go to?

  She reached for one side of a mango and turned the skin inside out. Juice exploded and streamed down her forearms. Rushing to suck the fruit, she tried to capture what she could, and a fierce coil of awareness lassoed and tugged at his groin. He drove down a breath and blew it quietly out. She was sexy without trying—but was she doing that on purpose?

  She continued to suck and lick the soft orange flesh and then, as if she hadn’t known how captivating her ingesting fruit could be, she threw a glance across and smiled.

  “I’ll be sticky after this,” she said. “We could go for another swim.”

  Or we could make love.

  She inclined her head. “Did you say something?”

  “I said I don’t want another swim.”

  When he downed half his wine, she blinked twice and her cheeks pinked up beneath her wide-brimmed hat. It was becoming harder to hide his autonomic responses. Harder to pretend he wanted to. His jaw was tight, his stomach too. The back of his neck felt on fire.

  “You must be starved,” she said.

  A tiny rapid pulse beat at the side of her throat. He felt the same rhythm hammering away in his blood.

  “Here.” She handed over a delicacy. “These oysters look delicious.”

  Keeping his gaze on hers, he lifted a shell and slid the oyster into his mouth. The salty, slippery, exotic taste only teased him more. It was all he could do to keep his gaze from wandering to her cleavage…to her thighs.

  Her bikini wasn’t naughty, exactly; the fabric covered all the necessary bits. But the legs were cut intriguingly high and her womanly hips were so curvy. Her breasts were pulled up and looked so full that the temptation to drag her over was one he could barely contain.

  No doubt reading his mind and wanting to cool it, she turned a little away, curled her legs beneath her and selected another oyster. But as her fork lifted the oyster from its shell Gabriel noticed her breathing had changed. Deeper. Quicker. And the blush which had started on her cheeks had radiated down the slim column of her throat. As the burn at his nape flashed like wild fire over the rest of his body, he clenched his hand against the urge to lean over and press his lips to her throat and that heat.

  She edged a plate towards him. “Have some mango. They’re so juicy.”

  He groaned. “I noticed.”

  “We had two huge mango trees in our backyard. Do you remember?”

  If she wanted to change the subject that they weren’t discussing, it wouldn’t work.

  “Trees?” He set down his goblet. “I don’t recall.”

  “Sure you do. You and Anthony stuffed yourselves so much that summer Mum thought you’d throw up.”

  Gabriel’s mind flashed back and he had to grin. He remembered Anthony’s mouth stained orange, skins all over the backyard. They’d been barely able to move they’d eaten so much.

  Gabriel cleared his throat and moved closer to Nina. He didn’t want to discuss old times now.

  She bit into a slice of pineapple and chewed contemplatively. “You never stayed at our house for dinner. You always went home to eat.”

  “Faith liked having family meals around the table,” he summed up, then held up the bottle. “More wine?”

  Nina declined, then dropped her gaze. “Gabe, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but…I was wondering what happened to your mother? Who was she before she had you?”

  He lowered the bottle. As mood-killers went, that was a ten. He hadn’t spoken about that with anyone. But if Nina wanted to know they’d be here for a while. He guessed he could share.

  “You want the unabridged version?”

  “If you want.”

  He drove his fingers through his hair and held them there while he thought back.

  “Faith and my mother Darlene’s parents worked on their landlord’s dairy farm. The girls had a good mother and father, but the only speck of luxury in their lives came when they went to the cinema. Darlene worshipped Hollywood films and dreamed of marrying the next Robert Redford or Paul Newman. She planned to live in Los Angeles, but fell pregnant before she’d saved enough for a fare. She didn’t tell my father. At eighteen, she didn’t want to give her baby up, but she didn’t want to wind up with a going-nowhere-nobody either. She had her heart set on a famous, dashing, wealthy husband.”

  Nina spoke gently. “She didn’t think your father was good enough?”

  “He couldn’t give her the fantasy life she wanted. So Darlene shifted in with Faith, who’d moved to the city. Darlene had her baby, then set out to find a real man.” He cocked his head. “My words, not hers, but you get my drift.”

  Nina got his drift, all right. His mother had robbed Gabriel of the chance to get to know his dad and vice versa. On top of that she’d left him with an echo that reached from past to present, from father to son…

  Not a real man.

  Nina’s verbal darts all those years ago, insinuating he didn’t measure up, wouldn’t have helped. She’d been young and foolish. After that story she could only imagine how deeply her taunts must have cut.

  “That search took my mother to all kinds of interesting place
s—including bars.” A muscle in his jaw flexed twice. “One night she didn’t come home. The police said she’d just run out on her responsibilities. I was four. When I was eight they charged a man with the rape and murder of three women in the district over the preceding four years.”

  Her breath caught.

  So his mother hadn’t abandoned her little son. Cold comfort, though, given the circumstances.

  His palm lay on the deck. She covered it lightly with her own. “And your father found you years later?”

  “I found him.” His hand flipped over to hold hers. “Gary Steele remained a bachelor and became extremely successful in advertising. Quite an irony as far as my mother’s ambitions were concerned.”

  Nina shifted uneasily. Gabriel was almost gloating that his father had avoided what could have been a messy relationship with Darlene. But his mother had disappeared from her son’s life by the time Gabriel was four. Hadn’t he ever wondered about his father during that time?

  “Why didn’t your aunt try to find your dad?”

  “She sent a letter a while after my mother vanished but never got a reply. Gary said he’d moved from that address years before to live in the UK briefly and never received it. Faith believed, right or wrong, that she’d best leave good enough alone. I didn’t blame her. Not at all. She sacrificed a lot to make sure I had what I needed.”

  “Is that why you’re so focused on success now?”

  His chin tipped up. “Hmm?”

  “To prove to the ghost of your mother,” she murmured, “that you’re a real man?”

  He gave her a wily look. “Big leap.”

  “Not really. My father was the same. He worked like a dog to prove himself to his father.”

  Her grandfather had been a tyrant, with beady eyes, a bushy beard and not a kind word for anyone other than his financial advisor and his bridge partner. Whenever the family had frequented his mausoleum of a house she and Jill had stayed glued to her father’s side.Anthony had said Grandad was Blackbeard come back to life, only meaner.