Harlequin KISS August 2014 Bundle

by Amy Andrews, Aimee Carson, Avril Tremayne

  He gestured to the dining area. ‘As you can see, the tables and chairs are in,’ he said. ‘We’re basically ready. I’m doing a trial dinner in two weeks, then we’ll have a month to tweak. It will be a full moon on the trial night, so the view should be amazing. I’m inviting mostly locals, and some food and lifestyle media, but because it’s a rehearsal for the wedding you’ll have to come—obviously.’

  Dare you! Dare you not to come.

  Oh, how she wanted to say she couldn’t make it. But that would be a mammoth case of cutting off her nose to spite her face, which he knew very well.

  So, ‘Of course,’ she said.

  He nodded at the portfolio in her hand. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Your shoe design.’

  ‘Let’s have a look,’ Leo said.

  Ordinarily, Sunshine would have gone a little theatrical, starting with a narrative and then positioning the designs on an easel. But today she merely pulled out the sheets and thrust them at Leo.

  She watched, trying not to care, as he flicked through them.

  She saw the shock come over his face and wished she could snatch the drawings out of his hands and rip them up.

  Leo took them further into the restaurant and laid the pages on a window table, where light streamed brightly through.

  He darted a looked up at her. ‘Not what I was expecting,’ he said.

  ‘What were you expecting?’

  Small pause. Quick smile. ‘What’s the shoe equivalent of a pine bookshelf?’

  Huh? ‘I guess...black leather lace-ups...?’

  ‘Bingo.’

  ‘Not that there’s anything wrong with black leather lace-ups.’

  ‘And yet...?’

  Sunshine shrugged. ‘And...yet.’

  * * *

  Okay. Leo admitted it. He wanted the damned shoes.

  The design was sharp, lean, streamlined. No decorative stitching. Toes that were subtly rounded but also somehow pointed. No laces—monkstraps, fastened with sleek silver side buckles.

  Plain and yet edgy.

  And the colour was astounding. They looked black, but there was a suggestion...a sheen...of purple.

  He cleared his throat. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Do you...do you think you’ll wear them?’

  ‘Can you really get that colour? And those buckles?’

  ‘I have the black-violet leather reserved. And I’ve already ordered the buckles—they’re real silver.’

  Black-violet. Perfect. ‘Then, yes, I’ll wear them, Sunshine.’

  She smiled, her eyes glowing with joy, and he felt his heart start that heavy thump he’d hoped wouldn’t happen. Not today—not when he wanted to be securely in the driver’s seat for a change, keeping Sunshine a little off balance.

  Of course his first sight of her, hauling herself out of that ancient, minuscule bright yellow car—Holy Mother of God, could a car be more perfect for her?—had almost derailed that plan on the spot, because he was the one who’d felt suddenly off balance.

  It was the dress, he told himself. It was a monumental distraction, that dress. Petal-pink, too damned tight, too damned short.

  And the black heels—too bloody high, with little black pearls studded in the leather and those crisscrossed ribbons around her ankles. How could a man not think about sucking her toes when he saw those shoes?

  Thank God he’d got that first surge of heat under control enough to kiss her cheek instead of shoving his tongue halfway down her throat. Because that had been touch and go!

  Now, however, the heart-thump suggested derailment was imminent again.

  Well, he would just have to share the derailment around.

  ‘So, then, let’s go check out hotels,’ he said.

  ‘Are you—? Are you going to come with me? In the car?’

  He thought about saying no—he’d realised that seeing him on the bike was going to be her breaking point and he wanted to get to that point fast. But in that tiny car of hers they would be very close to each other. So close she’d be able to feel him even without touching. He could use that. He was sure he could use that.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘The car.’

  But when he squeezed himself into the passenger seat, and the scent of jonquils hit him like Thor’s hammer, he thought perhaps he had made a tactical error. He just freaking loved that smell.

  ‘Seat belt,’ she said, and waited like a good little Girl Scout until he’d buckled up before starting the car.

  He could see a faint blush on her cheeks. She’d get a shock if he touched her there. One finger along the rosy heat.

  So he did, finding it shockingly easy to do.

  But touchy-feely Sunshine swivelled as though he’d slapped her.

  She stared at him.

  He stared back.

  And then he smiled. ‘You know, Sunshine—your pupils are dilated. Got any internet facts to share about dilated pupils?’

  * * *

  Yes, Sunshine knew all about dilated pupils.

  But she wasn’t answering that.

  Not with visions of straddling him right there in his seat popping into her head. He was so close that every time she changed gears her hand brushed his thigh. She had a sneaking suspicion he was deliberately putting his leg in the way. Another yank of her chain? She’d said hands-off, so he—the great un-toucher—had decided it was hands-on, just to needle her into a decision. And she’d thought he’d needed exposure therapy for his touching phobia!

  It was just as well the first hotel was close to the restaurant. It was such a relief to be out of the car and in the open air.

  Until Leo put his hand in the small of her back to guide her across the car park to the hotel entrance—enough with the touching, already!—and she wanted to slap him.

  She was a pacifist—she should not want to slap!

  Sunshine stepped away from Leo the moment they were inside the hotel.

  ‘I loved what I saw on the internet about this place,’ she said, with an enthusiasm that actually managed to sound insincere even though she truly meant it.

  That was what Leo was doing to her. Making her over-babble.

  She looked around, taking in the use of dark wood, the pale stone floor. ‘I think I’m going to book my own room here. Are you planning on staying overnight? I think you should. You know, you don’t want to...to ride...after the party.’

  Babbling. Shut up, shut up!

  ‘I won’t be riding home if I don’t have a bike,’ he pointed out calmly. Yanking her goddamned chain! ‘But in any case I have a house here, and hopefully there’ll be furniture by then.’

  ‘A house? By then?’

  Ugh. She’d turned into a parrot. A babbling parrot.

  ‘The house was only built last year, and it’s largely a furniture-free zone.’

  ‘Are you going to live down here permanently?’

  ‘Not permanently. I have too much on my plate in Sydney.’

  Sunshine knew all about having too much on your plate. It kept you nicely occupied so you only had to think, not feel.

  Think. Not feel.

  That sounded good.

  Think, not feel.

  If she just remembered that everything would be all right.

  And if she thought—ha—thought!—about Leo’s full plate, it was clear that although he might talk about this mythical abyss-jumping woman of his dreams he was no different from her. He couldn’t fit that kind of commit
ment into his life. Otherwise he would have it by now. He had enough women to choose from, for God’s sake! She’d looked him up on the internet again yesterday, and seen the paparazzi photos. And, all right, that particular bit of searching had been a weak moment that she would not be repeating!

  So! He didn’t have it because he didn’t want it.

  And neither did she.

  So she could stop the silly panicking.

  Think, not feel.

  ‘You could stay with me,’ Leo said as one of the hotel staff approached them. ‘The night of the reception.’

  Okay, she couldn’t stop panicking just yet, because her stomach was rioting again. ‘I don’t think that would be a good idea.’

  ‘Don’t have to think,’ Leo said, and touched her cheek. ‘You can just feel.’

  How the hell did he lock on to her thoughts like that? ‘You are freaking me out, Leo.’

  ‘Am I?’ He sounded delighted. ‘All you have to do is agree to two more times and I’ll stop!’

  Sunshine turned gratefully to the hotel manager.

  Introductions. Small talk. All good.

  And then the manager asked, ‘Shall we start the tour with the honeymoon suite?’

  * * *

  Sunshine choked on a laugh.

  Which made Leo choke on a laugh.

  So much unresolved between them—seething lust, and different takes on life, and twisted psyches—and here they were, being whisked off to the honeymoon suite like a couple of newlyweds.

  ‘Wonderful,’ Leo said, biting the inside of his cheek as Sunshine choked again.

  She carefully kept her eyes off him when they reached the suite, looking around with a desperate kind of eagerness.

  The suite had a touch of Bali about it, with a low bed of dark carved wood and a beautiful wood floor leading out to a private bamboo garden and plunge pool.

  ‘Oh, so perfect! I might book it for myself,’ Sunshine gushed.

  Oh, no, you won’t. ‘Or for the actual honeymooners, perhaps?’

  ‘Oops. Got carried away! Bamboo does that to me.’

  ‘Bamboo does that?’

  ‘Yes. Did you know it produces up to thirty-five per cent more oxygen than hardwood trees and absorbs four times as much carbon?’

  ‘No, Sunshine, I did not. But I can see how that would make you want to honeymoon with it. There’s something so sexy about carbon absorption.’

  She giggled, then choked again as she tried to stop it. ‘Well, I’m sure there are other wonderful rooms here that will suit me very well,’ she said.

  ‘I’m sure there are, but you’ll like my place better,’ Leo said, and almost laughed to see the flicker of panic race across her face.

  Her face was flushed, her eyes wide, her lips parted so he could see that little gap between her teeth.

  And, God, he wanted her. Wanted to run his hands up her legs and under her dress. To put his mouth on her, make her beg. Wanted to hear her sigh his name, feel her shudder. Wanted—

  Ouch. To do something with his painful erection.

  Okay—they were going to have to rush through this hotel tour.

  Then rush through the next hotel.

  Because it was three o’clock.

  And by four o’clock he intended to have her at his house, preferably naked.

  * * *

  ‘So! Leo!’ Sunshine said, pulling up at South at a quarter to four. ‘Accommodation is sorted. I’ll cover the card with the list of charities for donations in lieu of gifts and get that included with the invitation. Roger to no MC—just you welcoming the guests. No official speeches, just a repeat of their wedding vows. Clothes are done. Shoes underway. Kate is on board to sing. I think we can cover everything else via email.’

  Leo hadn’t made a move to get out of the car. He just sat there.

  ‘Cake,’ he said.

  ‘The—the guys can just pick that, can’t they? Like you originally suggested.’

  ‘Sunshine, I brought down four miniature decorated cakes because you wanted a tasting, and if you think I’m taking them, untouched, back to Anton—who is monumentally temperamental and had to be talked into making them in the first place—you can think again.’ Forgive me, mild-mannered Anton...

  ‘Oh, then I guess... Or maybe I could cut a piece of each and—’

  ‘And then there’s the seating plan. I’ve got the night off.’ Go, Pinocchio. ‘I don’t know when I’ll get another, so we may as well get that sorted.’

  ‘But I—I...I have a date.’

  ‘Date?’

  ‘Er...Tony. The calligrapher.’

  ‘The calligrapher is an ex. Break the date.’

  ‘How do you know he’s an—? Oh, I told you, didn’t I?’

  ‘Yep. And in any case we haven’t resolved the two versus four issue—you’re mine until we do.’

  Sunshine dragged in a breath. Held it.

  ‘Breathe, Sunshine. It’s just cake.’ Like hell. ‘And I also have a sample Anton made as a potential wedding favour to show you.’

  She was looking torn. ‘But we could do that via email.’

  ‘And I have everything I need to make meat-lovers’ pizza.’

  Her mouth fell open. ‘Oh, well, in that case.’ She started getting out of the car.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Leo asked.

  ‘Going into the restaurant.’

  ‘No, we’re going to my house.’

  ‘I thought there wasn’t any furniture.’

  ‘It’s not quite that basic. There’s a completely fitted-out kitchen. With food. And a makeshift dining suite, although the table is on wheels. Some balcony furniture. Bathroom stuff. A mattress.’

  Dare you! Dare you to come!

  Her nose was wrinkling up; he could practically see the arguments bouncing around in her head.

  ‘Think of the cake, Sunshine.’

  ‘All right,’ she said, with the air of a Christian martyr marching towards the lions’ den.

  ‘Good,’ Leo said, and started getting out of the car.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘I’ll take the bike. You follow me. I’ll grab my jacket and keys while you call Tony.’

  ‘Tony?’ she asked, blankly. And then, ‘Oh, yes. Tony. I...’

  ‘Forgot Tony? Poor Tony.’

  * * *

  For the first time ever Leo rode like a bat out of hell.

  He didn’t feel good about it, because he knew Sunshine would be in a state—but he also knew it was the most effective way to smash through the wall she was trying to erect between them. The best way to not end up like Tony and all the others who had never got to the magical fourth assignation.

  Well, Leo Quartermaine was not a piece of meat. He was getting to number four, and if it took the damned motorbike to get there so be it.

  He was going so fast he had to pass the house and double back twice so Sunshine could keep sight of him. She was still lagging behind when he zoomed off the road and into the carport, but he was sure she’d been watching him closely and would find her way.

  He wondered what she’d think of his place. The nondescript carport gave no hint that it was the gateway to a modern architectural masterpiece. Once they left the carport, however, and headed down a steep set of steps, it would be like entering a different world. The house was basically a long, horizontal strip of wood and glass cut into the side of a low cliff. A second set of steps led from the house
to a beach so secluded it was like Leo’s private patch of ocean.

  The Fiat finally puttered in and Leo braced himself for her reaction, looking closely at her partly averted face as she got out of the car.

  Very blank, very pale.

  Without speaking to him she went to the boot, took out a cherry-red briefcase, fixed the strap over her shoulder. And then she turned towards him, and he saw that the weird face-morph thing had happened, that she was trembling.

  And Leo knew he could never do that to her again.

  She followed him to the top of the stairs, where he stopped. ‘Are you all right?’

  She merely looked at him, but he was relieved to see things settling back into place.

  ‘Take off your shoes,’ Leo said. ‘It will be safer.’

  ‘Don’t talk to me about safe.’

  ‘Then give me your briefcase.’

  ‘No. Let’s just see how you like thinking about my breaking body tumbling down those stairs, with my anklebones smashed in these heels and my briefcase cracking my skull open.’

  ‘All right. I’m sorry I rode like that.’

  She was speechless for a moment, and then she drew back her arm and punched him in the shoulder. At least it looked like a punch; it felt more like a slap with a cushion. ‘You told me you weren’t a teenage hothead,’ she said shakily.

  ‘I’m not. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Shut up, Leo. I’m too angry with you to hear an apology. And there had better be six kinds of meat on that pizza after putting me through that! And buffalo mozzarella!’

  Buffalo mozzarella—what a zinger.

  He only barely managed not to laugh. ‘Just give me the damned briefcase,’ he said, biting the inside of his cheek.

  She punched him again. Same shoulder. She clearly wasn’t a candidate for cage fighting if that was the best she could do. ‘You are not carrying my briefcase, Mr Alpha-Beta-Zeta,’ Sunshine said.

  ‘Don’t forget the Gamma.’

  She tossed her hair over her shoulder and waved him imperiously on: start the descent.

  Leo took the first step, and the next, and the next, navigating slowly, staying just a half-step ahead. If Sunshine stumbled, if she even gasped, he would turn and catch her and toss her over his shoulder and carry her even if she kicked and screamed all the way.