by Ash Harlow
The bar was turning noisy and boisterous and we were two people out of place. I was basing my personal-safety decision solely on the cut of a man’s suit and an expensive watch. Then he smiled and I melted a little.
“Oliver!”
We both turned as a man approached, hand outstretched, broad grin. He took Oliver’s hand, pumping it enthusiastically. “The year-three class loved the tour of the boatyard. At the moment every one of them wants to be a boatbuilder or a yachtsman when they leave school. I just hope you can employ them all.”
“They’re good kids, I’d give any of them a job,” Oliver replied, before introducing me to the headmaster of the local school.
“Arch MacDonald,” the man said, gripping my hand with only slightly less enthusiasm than he’d used with Oliver.
“Darcy’s new in town,” Oliver explained.
Arch grinned. “Welcome, Darcy. You couldn’t find a better person than this guy,” he elbowed Oliver, “to show you around. Enjoy your stay.”
With the headmaster’s testimonial erasing my concern, I eased off the bar stool and tested the steadiness of my feet on the floor.
Oliver was only a second behind me. In a single move he dropped some bills on the bar, slung his suit jacket over his shoulder and took me by the elbow, steering me through tables and jostling patrons until we made it onto the street.
In the last light of the spring day, everything seemed so normal.
Two
Oliver
“I should probably go,” she said once we reached the street.
I wasn’t convinced. It sounded as though leaving was the last thing she wanted to do.
“But you don’t want to. Let’s walk. There’s a quieter bar down the road here.”
I couldn’t take my eyes off her mouth. Even as she watched me now, weighing up her options, running through some sort of checklist that would help her decide whether I’d fuck her over, or whether I was safe, that serious mouth tipped up at the corners. It was a mouth shaped by an angel into a constant smile.
The angle of light from the sunset highlighted chestnut flecks in her brown eyes, a spray of freckles, and the coppery tone of her hair. Right then I knew I wanted her, certain that everything I discovered about Darcy from this moment forward would only make me want her more.
I took her elbow and focused on the rectangle of the ocean at the end of the road. I aimed for the horizon because if I looked at her again I’d have her up against the window of the nearest shop, tearing at her clothes. The arousal shot she’d given me would pass but not until it flooded my veins with heat, and filled my head with need.
And made me want her again.
The bar I led her to was down on the waterfront. Small, definitely smarter than the pub we’d just left, but equally busy. I nodded at the striking brunette—Lisette?—working the bar and kept walking through, past the restrooms, along a narrow hallway, pushing open a door to a small, empty courtyard.
“Huh, it’s so busy out in front, yet we have this area to ourselves.”
“Owner privileges,” I said. “Take a seat, I’ll be back in a minute.”
I ducked behind the bar, crouching at the bank of fridges, humming in time to the thrum that vibrated through my body. I chose a wine that would make up for the crap they’d served Darcy in the sports bar, and grabbed a couple of glasses. I called out an order to the kitchen as I passed. They would have been prepping the cold plates for the past hour, ready for the early-evening customers.
“Three minutes, boss.”
“Bring it to the courtyard.”
My movements were urgent, as if any delay and Darcy would vanish.
She hadn’t, of course. She sat waiting at the table, staring into the distance.
When she heard me approach, she turned, laser beam smile on full wattage. I opened the bottle, poured, and sat opposite just as the food arrived.
Darcy eyed it as the waiter set out plates, utensils and napkins. She chose an olive, and nibbled.
“You’re insulting the kitchen,” I said. “Stop being so polite. Eat, I can see you’re hungry.”
She paused for half a second then stabbed a tuatua fritter with her fork. “I forgot to eat lunch. Thank you, this is great.”
“Do you know Waitapu well?” I asked. She was hungry, and it was refreshing to share a meal with a woman who actually ate instead of playing with her food.
She swallowed. “Not at all. Never set foot in the place until last week.” She wiped her mouth, sipped her wine. “I have this friend, Jen Wilmott. She lives in London right now. Her Gran died and left her an old cottage up by the river—”
“Sara. Jen’s Gran was Sara, I’ve known her all my life.”
“Right. Small world.”
“Not really, just a small town.”
She laughed. “Jen suggested I use the cottage for summer and I decided to take her up on the offer.”
“So you’re going to be a beach bum for summer?”
“That’s what I’m doing in my dreams. In reality, I’m looking for work, hence hanging around in a dodgy sports bar on a Wednesday.”
“You did look out of place. What’s your experience?” With my partners I owned four bars along the waterfront, a couple of restaurants, and an exclusive Lodge just out of town. There would be work for her at one of them.
“Marketing, advertising, PR, that sort of stuff. But I’ll do anything.”
“I might be able to help you,” I said carefully, because this was just a little too coincidental. We had a project going. It was short-term, but it needed somebody who understood marketing and PR to run it.
“Are you serious?”
“I’m serious, but I’m selfish, Darcy.” All of my companies had a no-fraternization rule. If she worked for me, I couldn’t touch her. I picked up a piece of smoked fish, dipped it into the green-tinged wasabi mayo and held it toward her. “Taste this.”
She held out her hand to take the food, and I shook my head. “Open your mouth.”
She did, just a little.
I leaned forward. “Show me you mean it, Darcy. Relax your jaw and let your mouth fall open.” My dick jumped when she complied. “Tongue out.”
What the fuck was I doing? She needed a job, I needed her skills, but right now all I could think about was giving her a couple of orders that were nothing more than a mirror to what I really wanted. Darcy on her knees.
She closed her eyes, and looked as if she was waiting for communion, or my cock. I placed the fish carefully on her tongue and as if she understood, she stayed just like that.
Fuck.
“Very nice. Eat, and next time, don’t close your eyes.”
Her gaze challenged me as she chewed and swallowed.
I tipped some wine into my mouth. “Now, back to this work thing. There’s a contract that might suit you. And yes, I’m serious.”
As if shifting into work mode, Darcy pushed her wine to one side, leaning forward on her forearms. “Thanks, I really appreciate that—”
“Don’t you want to know what the job is?”
“I’m all ears.”
“It’s a three-month contract coordinating a gala fundraising dinner and auction that I host with my business partners. We run this event every year. It started small, but it’s grown. Last year it was a massive success, which is great, but it means this year will be so much bigger. We need someone to handle it.”
“I’m interested. Do you want to interview me now?”
“No, I don’t want to interview you now. I’d rather keep things social. We can talk about the contract tomorrow, in my office.”
“Tomorrow, your office. Okay.”
“There’s one small issue. I don’t mess with my staff, Darcy, and I really want to mess with you.” I’m not that arrogant asshole. Not entirely, but if she decided to take the job, I wanted her to have all the facts.
I wanted to fuck her. Fact.
Darcy laughed. “You mentioned a contract, so, technically
I wouldn’t be working for you. I would be like, say, the gardener who tended your plants once a week.”
“I like the way your mind works.”
She smiled. “There’s a lot to me, Oliver Sackville, and I have to be honest with you. I need a job. Any job. But I’d prefer a job where I can use the talent and skills I have. Running your gala sounds an awful lot more fun than wiping tables.”
“It’ll be hard work.”
“That doesn’t scare me.”
“Good, because we’re behind. The last person we hired started, then resigned a month later having achieved nothing. We can’t push the date out so it’s going to be chaotic. What we can do is support you.”
She chewed another piece of fish and swallowed. “I’ll hold you to that.”
“You’re going to need it. Starting from scratch you’ll have to find entertainment, organize branding, ticketing, advertising.”
“That’s quite a challenge.”
Her gaze was direct and she seemed undaunted.
“Tell me about your experience?”
“I have a degree in marketing and advertising. I started out of university in Auckland at Carlton Advertising and worked my way up to account manager in ten months. The budgets were hefty. After two years I spread my wings and headed to Sydney. I was at Prism the entire time and latterly, moved into their PR department. Specialty, sports teams. You’ll appreciate it was a 24/7 role. Monday’s were particularly busy.” She laughed.
“Putting out fires from weekend exploits.”
“Constantly. Big egos and bad decisions. Those guys are crazy.”
“You’ve impressed me, Darcy.” I’m not sure my partners would be thrilled that I was offering the position to a woman who’d caught my attention in a dimly lit sports bar, but I had to run with the gut feeling I had that Darcy was capable.
Luther, in particular, would suggest it was a feeling in my dick that made me dispense with caution. I knew I should be asking for more details.
“Have you got a CV?”
“Sure, I’ll bring that with me tomorrow.”
“HR will want to check references, obviously.”
“No problem.”
For the first time, she looked uneasy, but she recovered well. Maybe I’d been hanging around too much with Luther, who made it his job to be suspicious. Or maybe I really was thinking with my dick.
Three
Darcy
I was excited. There was a chance Waitapu was going to be the place that put me back on my feet. I’d make a call to the company I worked for in Sydney and ask them to give me a break and a good reference.
I wanted the job. It sounded like a challenge and that was exactly what I needed, so I asked him for more information.
Oliver looked away for a moment, and swallowed. Something flashed across his features before he rearranged them to a business face.
“We’re raising money for the ongoing funding of a drug rehabilitation center in this area. You don’t know this place, so let me explain. This is a great town, but in the past decade there’s been an insidious creep of harder drugs. Through the sixties into the eighties, Waitapu had a burgeoning hippie element and a closet marijuana-growing industry. Eventually that shut down, and although Waitapu Gold still has a place as a premium marijuana brand—more from myth than actual supply—crystal meth, P, ice, whatever you like to call it, has taken hold.”
He became enthused in the manner of someone whose passion was driven by personal circumstances. I should have concluded the evening right at that moment but I was warring with the fact that he was offering me the best job available, and I was perfectly qualified. I only had to hold everything together for three months and I’d be out of town with something successful in my immediate past to relaunch my future.
He made the offer.
I accepted, breathing carefully to calm the ball of panic that bounced in my chest.
Sitting straighter in my seat I thanked Oliver for his hospitality and told him it was time for me to go home. I didn’t have transport and it would take fifteen minutes to walk to the cottage. Already the sun had dipped behind a western hill and although the town felt safe, I wasn’t naïve. I didn’t want to be walking alone when the pubs and bars closed.
Oliver stood with me, insisting he give me a lift.
“That’s kind of you, but I’ll be fine,” I told him, because I needed some space right now to figure out how I was going to manage my past to stop it from colliding with my future.
“I’m sure you are, but we’re almost neighbors and I won’t have you walking alone at night,” his glance slipped down my legs, “in those pretty shoes.”
I followed his gaze to my feet. The shoes looked okay from above but a single misstep would probably snap the cheap heels. We walked side-by-side to a small parking lot where he directed me to a late-model Range Rover.
Once seated, I stole a deep breath of the scent of leather mixed with his cologne while he made his way to the driver’s side. The look he gave me before starting the engine was unreadable, but the air between us was so charged it’s a wonder we didn’t leave a trail of sparks down the road. It took only minutes to reach home, and Oliver drove right down the unpaved driveway, a length of grass sandwiched between two stripes of bare earth which would undoubtedly turn to mud with a little rain.
I laughed as he maneuvered the vehicle right up to my door, engulfing the tiny front porch of the cottage.
“Can I see you in?” he asked.
“Thanks, but I’m good,” I said, making a grab for the door handle.
“I wasn’t going to jump you, Darcy.”
“That’s a shame.” Hell, kill me now. I could not believe I said that aloud.
“I just wanted to be sure you were home safe. Of course, officially you haven’t signed a contract yet, so we don’t work together at this moment.”
I closed my eyes and gathered my thoughts. It would be so easy to offer him a cup of tea...No. “And, like I said, it’s a contract, not employment,” I added.
“I’ll walk you to your door.”
I laughed. It was forced and nervy. “You’ve all but driven me there.”
We made it to the door together. I put my back against the door frame and looked up at Oliver. I was tall but he was a good head higher. Our eyes met and my body tingled. He was going to do it.
He placed his hands on both sides of my head and despite the rush move, his mouth covered mine so softly. Well, that’s how it started but I was greedy and had to have more. I searched with my tongue and felt a huff of breath, like a truncated laugh, before he met my tongue with his. Softness and control deserted us as he held me against him, and we explored.
I felt completely claimed by a simple kiss that seemed to last a week. Finally, we broke apart, our breathing ragged.
He brushed a hand down my cheek, leaving a tingling comet trail in its wake. “I’ll pick you up in the morning at eight and we can go over the contract. You need to meet the other guys. Are you sure you don’t want to come home with me?” he teased.
Not sure at all, but I’d already broken one rule and now wasn’t the moment to cave in. I shook my head, rubbing my lips that felt swollen and wanted more. “Thanks for the lift, I’ll see you in the morning.”
I stayed on the porch until his car’s tail lights disappeared as he rounded the bend in the road, and then I picked up my purse and faced the dark, empty cottage.
A shoulder nudge and the front door opened without the need of a key. Nothing in the cottage seemed to close or lock properly. It was a testament to a lack of crime in this town, or possibly good neighbors, that meant Jen’s grandmother never found a need to have locks fixed.
I flicked on a light and looked around. Here I was freeloading in a dead woman’s home.
I was tragic.
At twenty-four I had nothing to my name except for a load of debt and a few belongings, which included my phone and laptop that escaped the inferno. Add to that a massively toxic r
elationship with a man I should have ditched at the first sign of trouble, instead of holding on while I hoped we’d make it together over the hump, and you could see I wasn’t hitting life goals yet.
Only one friend, Jen, knew I was back in New Zealand, and she was in London, so I wasn’t about to run into her.
Looking at the gear on the kitchen table you’d have thought my life was okay. Nice laptop, phone, decent handbag. Besides the wallet with too few coins, my possessions told the story of a previous life I could no longer maintain. Beyond what lay in front of me, plus the few clothes hanging in the closet, I had nothing. It amounted to the collection of stuff you throw together when you have to get out of your house in a hurry.
Would I have made off with a different collection if I’d had an inkling that there would be nothing to come back to but ashes?
I knew there were many worse off than me and self-pity didn’t sit comfortably. I pulled out the business card Oliver had given me and dropped it on the table.
An old wired-in phone with the most enormous number buttons sat on the counter. I presumed it had been disconnected, so when it rang I almost crapped myself. I stared at it for a moment, debating whether to answer it, because I knew it couldn’t possibly be for me. I didn’t even know what the number was. If I didn’t answer it, though, the caller would only call again.
I picked it up.
“Darcy, you sexy beast. How are you settling in? Any ghosts?”
It was Jen, of course. “Hi, Jen, you almost killed me with fright. I had no idea the phone was connected.”
“Thought I’d leave it on for you. There’s internet, too, but you might have to hack it to figure out Gran’s password.”
“Where’s that bastard ex of mine when I need him?”
“Rob? Imprisoned, I hope.”
“Haven’t heard, and I’m not looking at the news. How’s jolly old England?” I’d give anything to be there right now. Jen’s accent had refined with the addition of a plummy edge to her Kiwi vowels. The Home Counties boyfriend was obviously rubbing a bit of polish into her speech.
