by Nikki Logan
‘I think of endurance and fortitude—’
‘Is everything about sex with you?’ she breathed.
Pot. Kettle. Black.
‘Who says I’m just talking about sex? What about a long, healthy life? What about childbirth? What about long hikes out there—’ he indicated the steep slope of Hong Kong’s wilderness trails on a distant green mountain ‘—and stretching out, long and straight on this sofa watching a movie? A man might see the surface details with his eyes, but his biology is naturally drawn to the kind of mate that will live as long as he does.’
The picture he painted was idyllic and she got the sense that that was exactly what he saw when he looked at her.
Potential.
Not flaws.
Awkwardness—and awareness—surged around them. She never was good with compliments, but there was also the sense that maybe he’d given the subject of her figure a whole lot more thought than just a few seconds.
‘Although, yeah, it’s definitely the kind of body that tends to make a man start thinking about getting sweaty.’ Those thoughts reflected darkly in his eyes. ‘And that’s a whole other body part paying attention.’
Audrey grabbed the levity like a life raft on the sea of unspoken meaning on which she’d suddenly found herself adrift. ‘That’s what I figured.’
He joined her in that life raft. ‘What can I say? I’m a man of very few dimensions.’
Not true. Not at all. And she was just beginning to get a sense of how much she’d yet to learn about him. And about how long that could take.
‘I wish you could see yourself as I see you,’ he murmured.
She shrugged. ‘I don’t lose sleep over it or anything.’
‘I know. But I’d love to watch you walk into a room, full of knowing self-confidence instead of doubt.’
She knew exactly what he was talking about. Somewhere along the line she learned to downplay her strengths, maybe to fly under the radar. ‘Confidence attracts you?’
‘Completely.’
‘Is that what the beautiful women are all about?’
‘It’s not their aesthetics I’m drawn to.’
No. She was starting to realise how shallow her accusation that he was shallow really was.
‘But sadly the confidence doesn’t always hold up. Some of them were the most fragile women I’ve ever met.’
‘Maybe you just expect too much?’ she risked.
‘By knowing what I want?’
‘By expecting it all. And maybe they got the sense that they were failing to measure up to some undefined standard.’
He stared at her. ‘Law of averages. If one woman can have everything I want, then there has to be another.’
She had everything he wanted? That was a whole lot more than just intellectual compatibility. Her heart thumped madly. ‘And yet I lack the confidence you look for. So incomplete, after all.’
‘I said you don’t see it, not that you don’t have it. You could own any room you walked into if you could just tap into your self-belief.’
If only it were as easy as turning on a tap. ‘A few more conversations like this one and maybe I will.’
He looked inordinately pleased to have pleased her. ‘I live to serve.’
The intensity of his gaze reached out and curled around her throat, cutting off most of her air. ‘Really? Then how about serving me another finger?’
Oliver finished his dish way ahead of Audrey. She stalled, wiping up every drop, using it as a chance to cool things off as much as the ginger had. One part of her hungered for more of the physical sensation she’d enjoyed before the food came. Exactly as stimulating as the gastronomic marathon they were undertaking. But another part—the sensible, logical part—knew that there was much more going on with her than just Oliver’s desire for some activity of the athletic kind.
And more than was a big mental shift to be making in one day. Particularly when she’d come here today all ready to say goodbye.
To cut off her supply.
‘I think maybe we should head back downstairs,’ she murmured.
That surprised him. ‘Now?’
She folded her napkin neatly and placed it next to her licked-clean plate on the expensive table. ‘I think so.’
‘Safety in numbers, Audrey?’
‘What happened before was—’ amazing, unprecedented, unforgettable ‘—compelling, but I don’t think we should necessarily pick up where we left off.’
It was too dangerous.
‘You seemed as compelled as I was. Can you just walk away from it?’
‘I... Yes. The timing is all wrong.’
‘We’re both single. We’re alone in an executive suite looking out over one of the world’s most beautiful views. We have the whole evening ahead of us. And it’s Christmas. How could the timing be better?’
His knowing eyes saw way too much. Like just how much of a liar she was. ‘I just learned my husband was cheating on me...’ she hedged.
‘I assumed you’d slipped into revenge sex mode.’
‘You think me that much of a user?’
‘Are you still a user if the usee is fully aware of what you’re doing? I’d be delighted to be exploited for any revenge activity whatsoever.’ He held his hands out to the side. ‘Do your worst.’
Impossible man. And impossible to know if he was serious or joking, or some complicated combination of the two. ‘That wouldn’t be particularly mature, Oliver.’
‘Sometimes the body knows better than the brain what it really wants. Or needs.’
‘You think I need a good roll in the hay?’ Did she strike him as that uptight?
‘Who says I’m talking about you?’
Oh, please. ‘Like you didn’t have sex twice this week already.’
‘I did not.’
‘Then last week.’
He stared at her. Infuriatingly unabashed.
‘Earlier in the month, then.’
‘Nope.’
The mere concept of a celibate Oliver was fascinating. But she wasn’t going to allow even intrigue. ‘Well, that explains today’s detour from the norm. You’re horny.’
‘Any detour we take today—’ she didn’t fail to notice his use of the future tense ‘—won’t be due to lack of self-control on my part.’
‘So bloody cocky,’ she muttered, pulling the dishes together into an easy-to-collect pile for the hotel staff. ‘And presumptuous if you think I lack self-discipline.’
It was another of the virtues she was prepared to own.
‘Far from it. The moment I let you shore up your resolve, I’m screwed. You’ll set your mind to leaving and I’ll never see you again.’
A raw kind of tragedy lurked behind his eyes. ‘So...you’re keeping me off kilter, just to be safe?’
‘Trying to.’
Huh. It was working. ‘How is confessing that going to help your cause?’
‘I’m trying something new. Something that goes against everything my instincts tell me.’
She narrowed her eyes at him.
‘Honesty.’
‘You’re always honest with me.’
‘I don’t lie. That’s not the same as being honest. There’s a lot I don’t say, rather than have to lie to you.’
‘Like not telling me about Blake?’
‘Like not telling you how badly I want you every time I see you.’
Air shot into her lungs in a short, sharp gasp.
‘That’s right, Audrey. Every single time. And it’s not going to go away just because you refuse to think about it.’
Her chest pressed in on itself. ‘I assume you don’t want to go back downstairs?’
‘I do not.’ His gaze was resolute. ‘We’re too close.’
‘Close to what?’
‘Close to everything I’ve wanted for years.’
Wanted. Her, on a plate. It was still too inconceivable to trust. ‘Regardless of what I want?’
‘If I thought you didn’t want
it I’d be holding the door open for you right now and calling up the elevator.’
A fist squeezed around her larynx.
‘But you do. You just need to let yourself have it.’ He glowered down on her. ‘And believe you deserve it.’
She curled her arms around the sensual silk of her loaned dress and remembered instantly how much better his arms had felt doing the same thing just minutes ago. Deserve it? Did he know what he was asking her to set aside? Years of careful, safe emotional shielding?
Of course she wanted to sleep with him. It seemed stupidly evident to her. But dare she? Could she do it and not be crippled by old doubts? Could she do it and not want more? Because he wasn’t offering more. He was offering now.
And right now she had allure working very much in her favour.
‘The Audrey of your imagination must be spectacular,’ she whispered, enjoying the solar flare that erupted in his smouldering gaze. ‘But, seriously, what if I’m just ordinary?’
Or worse. Was that something she could bear him knowing?
He stepped closer and slid his big hand around her cheek. ‘Honey, I’m that keyed up I may not even notice what you’re doing.’
A choked kind of laugh rattled through her. Bless Oliver Harmer and his gift for putting her at ease. ‘You’re supposed to say, “You couldn’t possibly be, Audrey”.’
‘You couldn’t possibly be, Audrey,’ he repeated, all seriousness. ‘But I’m done enabling you. If you want to know for sure you’re going to have to take a step. Take a risk.’ He lowered his hand between them and stretched it towards her, his eyes blazing but steady. ‘And take my hand.’
She stared at those long, talented, certain fingers. No trembling now.
If she slid her own in between them she was changing her life, going boldly where she’d never gone before.
A one-night stand.
Sex with Oliver.
That couldn’t be undone. And it probably wouldn’t be repeated; after all, they only saw each other once a year and a lot could change in twelve months.
Revenge sex, he’d joked. But was it so very funny? She certainly had enough to feel vengeful for. She’d wasted years being modest and appropriate and not throwing herself across the table at a scrumptious Oliver every year out of loyalty to a man who was betraying everything she’d ever stood for. Who couldn’t wait for her to leave the country so he could express the man he really wanted to be.
Wasn’t she due a little bit of payback?
And wouldn’t that moment when Oliver strained over her just as he had in her most secret fantasies...wouldn’t that moment undo everything that had gone before it? Wouldn’t she be reborn?
Like a phoenix out of the ashes of her ridiculous, restrained life.
His fingers twitched, just slightly, out there all alone in the gulf of inches between them and the simple movement softened her heart.
This wasn’t sleazy. This wasn’t some kind of set-up or test and there wasn’t a bunch of schoolgirls waiting to slam her up against the bathroom wall for daring to reach.
This was Oliver.
And he was reaching for her.
She lifted her eyes, fastened them to his cautious hazel depths and slid her fingers carefully between his.
TEN
Lavender-cured crocodile, watermelon fennel salad served with a lime emulsion
‘Again?’
Audrey’s beautiful, sweat-slicked chest rose and fell right in Oliver’s peripheral vision as she sprawled, wild and indelicate, across his bed, eyeing him lasciviously.
His laugh strangled deep in his throat. ‘I won’t be doing it again for a little bit, love.’
‘Really? You’re not a three-times-a-night kind of guy?’
He rolled over and stared at her. ‘Have you never heard of recovery? Any man who can go three times in a row didn’t do it thoroughly the first time.’
And she’d been done extremely thoroughly.
The second time, anyway.
Their first time had been hot, and hard and slick and they didn’t even make it off the sumptuous sofa. He’d been joking about being so keyed up, but it had taken a gargantuan effort on his part to keep things at a pace that wouldn’t scare her off forever.
Or shame him.
The second time they’d turned nomad; roaming from surface to surface, view to view, stretching out the torture, exploring and learning the geography of each other’s bodies, knocking vases off tables and sending light fittings swinging. He’d been determined to make a slightly better—and lengthier—showing than the almost adolescent fumblings on the sofa, and Audrey had risen to the challenge like the goddess she was, matching him move for move, touch for touch.
Until they’d finally collapsed in a heap on the penthouse’s luxurious master bed where he really got to show her how he’d earned his nickname.
He rolled his exhausted head towards her. ‘You were kidding, right?’
‘Hell, yes. I’m numb.’
There we go... That was what a man liked to hear. He flipped his arm with the last remnants of energy he had and patted her unceremoniously on her perfect, naked bottom.
‘Take that, Blake,’ she said, after the giggles had subsided.
Audrey giggling. Wasn’t that one of the heralds of the apocalypse?
‘Hell hath no fury...’ But it wasn’t about vengeance, he knew that. This was much more fundamental.
‘It wasn’t me,’ she whispered to the ceiling. And to every demon still haunting her.
He gave her a gentle shove with his own damp shoulder. ‘Told you.’
‘Yeah, you did.’
‘Do you believe me now?’
‘Yeah.’ She sighed. ‘I do.’
Then more silence.
Oliver studied the intricate plasterwork above them and mulled over words he’d never needed—or wanted—to utter. Found himself inexplicably nervous and utterly shamed of his own cowardice.
So...now what happens?
That was what he wanted to know. Half dreading and half breathless with anticipation at the answer. Because this—what they’d just shared—would be a crime to walk away from. He’d just had his deepest desire handed to him on a plate. Writhing under him.
Yet, he didn’t do long-term. He didn’t dare. Would he even know how? He’d lost years waiting for a woman with the right combination of qualities to come along. Goodness and curiosity and brilliance and elegance and wild, unbridled sensuality all bundled into one goddess.
He just wasn’t going to find a woman on the planet better suited to being his.
Which meant he could have this remarkable gift that the universe had provided, but he couldn’t keep it.
Because Audrey was far too precious to risk on someone as damaged as him.
Sex changed people. Women especially. Women like Audrey doubly especially. She wasn’t a virgin, but he’d put good money on tonight being the first good sexual experience she’d had—again that sad, needy little troll deep inside him waved its club-fists triumphantly—and transformative experiences tended to make women start thinking of the future. Planning.
And he didn’t do futures. He just couldn’t.
There was more than one way of cheating in a relationship. He might never have been actually unfaithful to any of the women he’d been involved with, but he’d been false with every single one of them by not telling them they weren’t measuring up to the bar set by a woman they’d never meet. By not telling them that what was between them was only ever going to be superficial.
By not telling them he wasn’t in it for keeps.
He could dress it up whatever way he wanted—persevering, giving them a chance, getting to know one another—but the reality was from the moment he first realised they weren’t the one, the rest of their time together was one big cheat.
As unfaithful and as unkind as his father. To every single one of them.
And so he’d come to specialise in short-term. He reserved his longest relationships for women
who didn’t change from first date to last. Predictable women who weren’t looking for more. They got entire months.
Audrey wasn’t the sort of woman you just kissed and farewelled after a few hot weeks. Look at the lengths he’d already gone to not to farewell her at all.
Audrey was someone he cared about deeply. And what happened from here was going to be critical to her remaining someone he was allowed to care deeply about. Because not caring for her was simply not an option. He couldn’t even imagine it.
But using her—hurting her—wasn’t going to work, either. He’d grown up witness to what it did to a woman to be in a relationship with a man incapable of loving just her.
It rotted her slowly from the inside out.
Bad enough imagining Audrey decaying in her sham of a marriage, but to think of himself being responsible for it... Watching her eyes getting dimmer and dimmer as he emotionally checked out of their relationship.
As he always did.
No. That was not something he was prepared to do to a woman he considered perfection. Who he actually cared for. Who he might love if he had any idea what the hell that meant.
And given his genetic make-up, the chances of him finding out any time soon weren’t high.
But lying here drowning in what-ifs wasn’t going to get them anywhere. Better to get it out in the open. Talk it through. Deal with whatever angst came.
Just ask!
‘So what happens now?’ he ground out. The longest four words of his life.
‘Depends on what time it is.’
Okay. Uh, not what he was expecting. He craned his neck to check his TAG. ‘Coming up to six p.m.’
Which meant she’d been here for eight hours already.
She rolled over, folding her arms under her as she went and boosting her breasts up into tantalising pillows. ‘We still have half a degustation to enjoy.’
The little troll’s fists fell limply by his side. She was thinking about food? While he was lying here doing a great impersonation of an angsty fourteen-year-old? ‘Really? This hasn’t been an adequate substitute?’
Her Mona Lisa smile gave nothing away. ‘You said yourself we need to recharge. Might as well stretch our legs and eat while we do that.’
