by Anne Oliver
And frustrated her. Somewhere in her befuddled senses, she was aware of the tension behind the quiver, the strain in his breathing. He was holding back. ‘Jack—’
He groaned. ‘For once in your life don’t argue with me.’
‘But, Jack... Now,’ she begged.
‘Demanding woman,’ he muttered against her ear. But she heard the smile settle in his voice as he pressed her into the mattress. ‘I’m going to have to teach you to be patient. Especially in the bedroom.’
‘Might take a lot of practice.’ In the bright light of morning, his two-day beard showed up stark and bristly against his tan, reminding her of what he’d been through the past two days.
He was here now, and she revelled in the hot, hard weight of him. Revelled in the feel of flesh sliding against slick flesh, the scent of morning and hot skin filling the musky air between them. Lifting her hips, gripping his arms, she opened to him, poised at the edge of her control, desperate for this completion, this merging of bodies, of selves.
Eyes locked on hers, he eased himself inside—slowly, drawing out the moment, filling her with his heat and strength. Her inner muscles quivered, drawing his hard, throbbing length inside her until she couldn’t tell where she ended and he began.
He muttered something she didn’t catch; cursing God or thanking Him. His eyes still focused on her, only her, he withdrew slowly before thrusting into her again, with more insistence.
The harsh groan torn from his throat sounded like music to her ears, her own rising to accompany him. Her heart beat against his in a duet of passion. He filled her, completed her.
His hands found hers, palm to palm, fingers entwining, then he dragged her down into the velvet depths of passion in those dark eyes only to toss her up to a place full of light and life. And love.
Sensation pin-wheeled over sensation, creating a whirling galaxy of jewels, each one glittering and unique. She caught the edge of the spiral as it hurtled towards the stars, higher and higher. She wished it could go on and on, that she could gather all those precious treasures to her heart and hold them for ever.
But Jack wasn’t a for ever guy.
So she had now, and the little dip in her happiness smoothed out as he pinned her hands with his above her head. Breath mingled. Sweat slicked their bodies. There wasn’t an inch of skin that wasn’t melded with his.
Then he thrust hard once, twice, and liquid warmth flooded inside her as he shuddered, rasping out her name and taking her to the stars with him.
Cleo floated back to earth. To reality. To the soul-destroying knowledge that Jack still had a job overseas, a life beyond Melbourne suburbia. Right now he was sprawled half on, half off her, in no apparent rush to change the status quo.
She closed her eyes, reliving their lovemaking, storing it for later. But wait... Had he said, I’m going to have to teach you to be patient? A glimmer of hope lit inside her. Did that mean he wanted to stay a little longer? With her?
As if he’d heard her thoughts, she felt Jack push up. When she opened her eyes his head was propped on one elbow and he was watching her. Serious eyes. Serious mouth. No more body contact.
‘Cleo—’
Shaking her head, she sat up, wishing she had the sheet to cover her. ‘Don’t.’ Don’t spoil what we shared, don’t take that away from me.
He captured her wrist. ‘Listen to me. I need you, Cleo, and not only in bed. My life’s a dull black and white without you.’
What? What was he telling her? ‘Say that again,’ she said slowly.
‘You colour my world, Goldilocks.’ He sat up too, and cupped her face. ‘You have looks, loyalty, courage and optimism. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever known, inside and out.’
She wished she didn’t hear a but coming. For the sake of her pride, for her heart, she forced a smile. ‘That’s the best recommendation I ever had.’
He frowned and she could see he was offended. ‘I’m being serious here, I’d appreciate it if you’d be too.’
‘Okay. On a serious note, then...’ She dug down deep for some of that courage to say, ‘I overheard you making a date at Café Medici the other day. You laughed—the way you always laugh when it’s a woman on the phone.’ She ignored his raised brows. ‘You told whoever you were interested. When you didn’t tell me about it, I assumed...’ She lifted a shoulder. ‘So, what are you trying to tell me here, Jack? Because I sure as heck don’t follow.’
He looked thoughtful a moment, then he grinned. ‘You reneged on our shower. I was discussing a job opening for a photo-journalist. In Australia.’
Australia. That glimmer of hope flared, but she had to know more before she started tap-dancing. ‘Why would you do that? What about your other...interests?’ She studied his face, searching for subtle cues as she said, ‘Ciao, bella ring any bells?’
Another brief pause. ‘Carmela,’ he said finally. ‘She and her husband Domenic rented me a room when I first landed the job in Italy. Domenic’s ill. Carmela’s been updating me on his progress.’
‘Not Liana.’ Had she really said that aloud? Oops. Big mistake bringing up a past lover.
‘Liana...? Ah, the Armenian designer. Haven’t seen her in years.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘And you know her how...?’
‘Um, a magazine...?’
‘Milan.’ His eyes lit with gentle teasing. ‘Does that mean you were jealous?’
I’ve been hung up on a woman he hasn’t seen in years. She swiped at his shoulder. ‘What do you think? I love you, Jack, that’s unconditional. It’s not a choice, it simply is. Doesn’t mean I didn’t hate you for leaving me. Twice.’ She prodded his chest. ‘And for not telling me about the job opening in Australia.’
‘That was an hour before I read Gerry’s letter. You were in a snit at breakfast, didn’t seem like the time to—’
‘Because of the phone call,’ she interrupted, prodding him again, harder.
‘I didn’t know that, now, did I? I wanted to tell you over a celebration dinner. I wanted to tell you...’ His tone turned sombre as he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. Nervous. Definitely nervous.
‘Hey,’ she said softly, and tugged his arm, felt the ropey sinews twist beneath her palm. ‘Tell me now. We’re both naked here, seems like a good time to bare our thoughts as well.’
He nodded, fingering a spike of her hair and kissing her forehead. ‘I’ve learned from you these past weeks. Your commitment to family and your inner strength gave me the courage to look inside myself. I discovered something greater than my fear. Love.’
A lump rose in her throat. She looked into those eyes that knew her so well. Not vulnerable and guarded now, but clear and filled with hope. She pressed her palm to the side of the face she loved. ‘I’m glad I could help.’
He covered her hand with one of his. ‘Only you.’
‘So, you’re ready to come home.’
‘I want to spend the rest of my life with you; it doesn’t matter where. You are my home.’
His lips found hers, letting all the emotion of his words flow into one long, deep kiss. Then he lifted his head just enough to look into her eyes and say, ‘I love you, Goldilocks; I always have.’
Her heart wept for joy. Words more precious than diamonds. ‘Can I have that in writing?’ she murmured against his mouth.
‘You bet.’
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pressed herself against him, mouth to mouth, skin to skin, heart to heart. She felt his hands, hard, possessive, seeking, as they slipped around her waist, over her back, circled over her shoulders and finally, finally found her aching breasts.
He leaned back to look at what he was touching, and a hot tide of lust and love washed through her. No one had ever been able to turn the heat up like Jack. ‘You’ve made me feel good about myself,’ she whispered. ‘
You even make me feel sexy and desirable.’
‘Even?’ He shook his head. ‘Get this through that beautiful, stubborn head, Cleo. You are sexy and desirable. And much, much more. It’s not your clothes or the way you wear your hair. It’s you.’ He leaned back to look into her eyes. ‘Marry me, Cleo. Let me spend the rest of my life showing you.’
The sexy rumble of his voice echoed deep in her heart, filling all those empty places only Jack could fill. Tears sprang to her eyes. ‘Oh, Jack, yes. Yes, I’ll marry you. But I don’t want to wait.’ She pulled his long, hot and incredibly sexy body on top of her. ‘Start showing me now.’
A long time later, their bodies warm, sated and entwined, Cleo twirled Jack’s well-worn medallion in her fingers. ‘You never forgot your roots, did you? After all that happened, even when you were injured, you cared enough to come back.’
‘To you, Goldilocks.’ He pressed an open-mouthed kiss against her neck.
She basked in the stunning sensation, her happiness spilling over when he murmured, ‘Is a month enough time to organise a wedding?’
‘As long as I can find a dress to knock your socks off. And lingerie, and sleepwear...’ If she needed sleepwear. Her mind spun at the images.
‘Speaking of sexy outfits,’ he said, in sync with her thoughts, ‘do you still have that black catsuit around here somewhere? I’d like another chance to take it off you.’
Arching her foot over his leg, she slid it down his shin, enjoying her new-found role of seductress as his body jerked to attention. ‘I think that can be arranged.’
EPILOGUE
Jack waited for his wife to finish duty-free shopping with Jeanne at Melbourne International. Cleo had refused to let him accompany her, saying she couldn’t shop with him breathing down her neck. He planned to do a lot of that. Tonight.
His wife. He tried unsuccessfully to wipe the silly grin off his face that seemed to have become a habit over the past few weeks. They’d been married in a small civil ceremony less than five hours ago. He still couldn’t quite believe it.
They’d put the house up for sale and were going to tour Italy and catch up with Domenic and Carmela before settling in Melbourne’s suburbs. The clichéd white picket fence was looming closer.
He didn’t mind a bit.
He turned to his best man. ‘Scotty, you and Jason have a major responsibility there looking after Constantine.’ He was still getting used to seeing Scott and his partner as a couple, but he’d never seen his buddy so relaxed.
‘Don’t worry about the big guy,’ Scotty said. ‘He’ll be fine until you get back. Your bride’s on her way,’ he said with a grin, glancing over Jack’s shoulder.
Jack turned. And there she was, all lusciously curved five-feet two of her in crisp white slacks and an emerald jacket, confetti still stuck to her spiked hair, eyes sparking with excitement, her face aglow.
He didn’t need his camera to know he’d remember the scene for ever—and the one of her in her spectacular dress as they exchanged vows. But he snapped a shot anyway before saying, ‘Hi.’
She answered with a breathless ‘hi’ of her own. That husky sigh got to him every time, on every level. He stepped closer, relieving her of a mountain of shopping bags. Their gazes fused, their hands brushed. The air between them flared with heat.
They were in the middle of a noisy tide of humanity, lights and announcements, but all he could focus on was the subtle scent of her skin and the way her lips curved as she shared the moment with him.
Somewhere to his left, he heard Jeanne cough loudly, then say, ‘Come on, you two. Get on board that aircraft before we all start melting here.’
‘We’re on our way.’ With his eyes still on Cleo’s, he raised her left hand, pressed a kiss to the gold-set ruby flanked by diamonds and the filigree wedding band Cleo had made herself. His own matching band glinted in the airport lights. ‘Ready?’ he said.
She nodded, her blue eyes as warm as the summer sky. ‘Oh, yes, I’m ready.’ Her smile widened. ‘I’ve been ready for a very long time.’
Their eyes lingered a second or two over their joined fingers. He smiled back, filled with love for the woman who was his wife. ‘Then let’s get started.’
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from FIRED BY HER FLING by Christy McKellen
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ONE
Tallulah Lazenby drained the last drop of her large glass of Sauvignon Blanc and clung onto the comforting buzz of the alcohol, until the feeling dissipated and her nerves returned.
She really shouldn’t be drinking the night before her grievance meeting with the owner of the radio station where she worked as a DJ—a job that had, until recently, made her rise with excitement every morning—but she needed something to dull the growing panic that tomorrow could be her last day of work there.
‘Lula, snap out of it. It’s going to be okay,’ her friend Emily muttered into her ear, clicking her fingers in front of her face and dragging her out of her agitated funk and into the here and now of the dimly lit Covent Garden pub, where they were celebrating a friend’s birthday.
Lula gave her a tight-lipped smile. ‘Easy for you to say; you didn’t make the catastrophic mistake of sleeping with your Station Manager and scuppering your chances at career advancement when you refused to be his regular sex-puppet.’
Emily tried to keep a straight face, but failed spectacularly. ‘I have to say, Lu, it wasn’t one of your best moves.’
She shot her friend a no kidding grimace.
‘Lord knows what possessed you to sleep with him,’ Emily added.
Lula nodded solemnly into her empty glass.
Jeremy—or Jez as he preferred to be called—was an overconfident, self-absorbed philanderer and the exact opposite of what she was looking for in a long-term partner.
‘It was after a very long, very dry patch and he caught me at a moment of weakness,’ she muttered, her face hot with the ignominy of how it had cast a dark shadow over their working relationship when she’d told him in no uncertain terms that there wasn’t going to be a repeat performance.
Jez was not the type of man you said no to.
And she’d paid the price for it.
After a few weeks of stilted and antagonistic interaction, he’d blithely informed her that he would no longer be moving her onto the Breakfast Show—even though he’d been promising to for months. And, just to rub salt in the wound, he was giving her Drivetime Show to Darla—one of the other female DJs at the station—who apparently had no qualms about regularly bumping uglies with him.
So now she was just supposed to float around the station, covering for other presenters when they needed time off from their shows.
A major step backwards on her career path.
‘At least the owner’s taking your complaint seriously,’ Emily said, sprawling back in her chair and licking a bit of lemon off the rim of her glass of vodka and tonic.
Lula put her head in her hands and stared down at the table. ‘I didn’t tell you the worst bit. I found out
today that Jez’s daddy is best buddies with the owner. There’s no way he’ll take my side on this. Not when the Old Boy Network is in play.’ She rubbed her eyes and groaned, ‘Nepotism sucks.’
The corner of her friend’s mouth twitched up into a consoling smile. ‘It’ll be okay. You’re the best DJ that station has; they’re not about to let you walk—have some faith in yourself.’
‘Hmph.’
Emily leaned forward and slapped an encouraging hand onto Lula’s leg. ‘You know what you need to do right now? Give yourself a confidence boost so you can stride in there tomorrow with your head held high.’
Lula flashed her friend a pained look. ‘How am I meant to do that, exactly?’
‘You could start by engaging in some power-flirting with a crazy-hot sex god.’ Emily gave one of the trademark saucy winks that had earned her legions of fans on her popular Treasure Trail TV show.
Lula spluttered in mirth. ‘Do they even exist? ’Coz I’ve never met one.’
Emily crossed her arms and shook her head sadly. ‘You know, if you took some time out from your tireless quest to find this mythical “perfect man” and just indulged in a bit of fun—with someone other than your boss, that is—perhaps you’d get your mojo back?’ She cocked a chastising eyebrow, before turning away to answer a question one of the other birthday guests called across to her.
Lula snorted at the back of her friend’s head, but accepted that Emily had a point. She probably should give herself a break and stop worrying about finding The One, but it had been one disappointing relationship after another recently and she was beginning to panic that she was destined to be single for ever.
Hence the foolish move of sleeping with her boss.
