Heartbreak Hero

by Frances Housden

  A slow smile lifted one side of his mouth, a reminder of the day they met. It seemed like she’d known him a lifetime, they’d pushed so much into the last few days.

  What if he knew what she was up against? Would he help her? Or would knowing turn him away, thinking she was crazy? Being with Kel had driven the problem of Paul Savage from her mind, and after a whole day without sighting any of Savage’s henchmen she’d actually started to relax and enjoy the trip for what it was, a holiday out of time, like none she’d experienced before.

  Kel tilted her chin with a finger, kissing her nose before her mouth could meet his. “You got a deal, doll. See you in five.”

  With his toilet kit and shaving gear in hand, Kel waited for Ngaire to open the door. When she did, her hair was already loose. Pity, he’d been thinking of how he’d undo it, taking his time, enjoying the feel as it sprang free of the braid she tortured it into each morning. The rest of her was drowned in a white toweling bathrobe big enough for two. “You got enough towels or should I go back and retrieve mine?”

  “Better than that, I’ve got two of these,” she said, tugging at the rolled collar. “It’s quite cozy.”

  “Are you feeling cold? The air-conditioning is probably set too low. I’ll fix it.” He marched in and found the control unit. “Looks okay to me. There may be something wrong with the gauge. I’ll set it higher.” He turned the dial, then gave it a light thump.

  “I thought you were supposed to be an electronics whiz? Is that really how you fix stuff?”

  He looked at her blankly as her brows rose in dark question marks. Then he remembered his cover. “Huh? I sell software. I’d never make an engineer.”

  “That explains it. You’ll find the robe in the closet. I’ll go turn on the shower.”

  He tucked his boots under the far side of the bed, then stripped down to his shorts, forgoing the robe as the temperature struck him as just fine. He’d locked the Smith & Wesson in the wardrobe safe, though he’d slipped a small but deadly knife into a special pocket in the lining of one boot. He might be going to get naked, but he was unwilling to depend on his hands and feet alone.

  He checked out the box sitting in full view on her nightstand. Only four left; he’d save them for bed. He knew how to bring her to a screaming climax without needing a condom. Uninterested in the bathrobe, he nevertheless perused the closet and safe on his way to the shower. Locked. She was about as trusting as him.

  The shower lived inside a clear glass cave. Closing the bathroom door, he saw Ngaire’s reflection in the mirror as she reached for the shampoo.

  “Hang on, I’ll do that for you.”

  “You want to wash my hair?”

  “Hell, yeah! Call me kinky, but I’ve developed an obsession with your hair. Don’t ever cut it.” He stepped into the glass cave with her, glad it had started to cloud over and their images were blurred. He might be feeling slightly kinky, but it was Ngaire he wanted to watch, not himself.

  She handed him the shampoo bottle, then helped herself to a bar of soap. “We’ll make it a fair shake, I’ll wash you.”

  He tipped shampoo over her head as her hands started work on his chest in slow, lazy circles. Lather dripped in large globs of white suds as she tilted her head to the side and gave his hands access to the nape of her neck. Kel took advantage to give her a massage, working his fingertips from the back of her neck to the top of her crown. The thrill of hearing her moan tightened his skin as she breathed across his chest. Soon he’d have her in bed, reduce her to putty, and her breathless whimpers would be from pushing deep inside her, nothing so mundane as a massage.

  He was engrossed in rinsing her hair, and her touch caused a jolt through his loins. He went from hard to hard as hell before he could draw breath. The temptation was there to let her carry on and find his satisfaction, but he refused to give in. “Uh-uh. This is about you, not me. I can wait.”

  Her soapy hands glided along his length, then a caress of her thumb shaped the tip, making his stomach muscles spasm. He clenched his fingers around the showerhead for support. She caught his gaze, took in his taut expression with a look as mysterious as time and deep enough to drown him in blue.

  “You could have fooled me.”

  “I’m an old-fashioned guy, I believe in ladies first. Are you gonna make me break my rules?” He’d broken enough already just giving into the lust he felt whenever she was near, which was all the time. Yet he managed a smile as he said, “Now, are you letting go, or do I have to hurt you?”

  A mischievous smirk hovered round her lips. Her hand slipped lower, cupping him. “I could bring you to your knees, no sweat.”

  It took all his control to drawl a retort, when he’d rather she just kept on with what she was doing to him. “Doll, do your worst. I was heading in that direction, anyway.”

  She laughed and released him. “Okay, you win.”

  Because she was such a good sport, he started with a light kiss but couldn’t resist whispering, “I always do,” which made her chuckle and taunt him with a mock threat.

  “One day soon I’m going to make you eat those words.”

  But he’d already gone to his knees, shaping her with his palms from hip to knee. Her skin felt like hot, wet satin as he stroked the back of her thighs, but when he reached her calves the wince she made was unmistakable. “What’s up?”

  She shook her head in denial that anything was wrong, but when his palms took a return journey, he heard her breath catch as he swept over the wound she’d gotten at the geyser park. “Turn around. I want to take a look at your leg.”

  Although the wound had closed up, it felt hot and puffy under his fingertips. “Looks like you have an infection. No wonder you’re feeling chilled, you probably have a temperature. Lucky for you, I have something that will do the trick among my gear.”

  Her face went pale under her tan. “Do you think it’s blood poisoning? I’ve had it before, when I was a kid.”

  “I won’t lie to you, it could turn to that if we don’t do something about it, but I’d say we’ve caught it in time.” He flipped off the shower and lifted her outside to drip on the mat. Her toweling robe hung on the back of the door. He unhooked it and bundled her inside, rubbing to dry her off, then grabbed a towel to wrap around his waist.

  It only seemed right while she was sick to conceal that running his hands over her, even through thick toweling, was still a turn-on. “Don’t look so tragic, doll, we’ll soon have you right. I’ll give you a rain check. Just keep my place until next time.”

  She let out a gasp level with his ear so he couldn’t miss it, and he knew he’d done the trick when she hit him with “Don’t hold your breath, babe. I might have other fish to fry.”

  “Low blow. I’ll remind you you said that.” And as he tied the belt in a knot at her waist, he patted her butt. “Later, doll.”

  A quick sortie inside his toilet bag revealed a tube of ointment and a bottle of pills he hadn’t had to use in a while. Holding them in one hand, he closed the lid on the commode and sat her down on top. Kneeling in front to lift her ankle, he smeared the opaque gel over the heat building in the wound. “This antibiotic ointment should take the heat out of it, and these pills ought to bring your temperature down quickly.”

  “What kind of pills? I don’t believe in taking drugs.”

  He struggled to keep a look of disbelief from his eyes. What a turnup for the books, a courier who jibed at swallowing a legal drug. It snapped him back to the business of reality and twisted through his words. “Everybody takes something, some more than others. This time you don’t have a choice if you want to be rid of the infection. What do you take if you never use drugs?”

  “I didn’t say I never took them…ooow!” She yelped as his hand tightened on her tender skin.

  “Sorry, but that’s why you need to take these.” Fist clenched on the faucet, he filled a glass with water, then slid two dark red capsules from the bottle into his palm. He handed them to her and wait
ed to see her swallow. “What do you take when you get sick?”

  “I go to a Chinese herbalist I know. Herbs work just as well as drugs. I had enough of those when I was in the hospital as a kid. I swore off drugs and needles from then on.”

  “Is that where your scars come from?” She nodded, and he went on, “Sorry to make you break a vow, but don’t knock it. There are only a few vacation days to go and a lot of souvenir shops to cover. You won’t be able to get round if this starts to spread. Believe me, it’s for your own good.” He watched her grimace. “At least the medicine wasn’t too hard to take.”

  He’d a feeling his words might come back to haunt him. Only three days and four nights to go, and before they were over, he could be handing her medicine she found harder to swallow.

  “C’mon, you can have dinner in bed, then we can snuggle up and play spoons all night. D’you know how to play spoons?”

  “No, but I’m a quick study, you’ll only have to show me once.”

  He hardened his heart against the picture she made, small and vulnerable and wrapped in a white robe that would better fit his bulk, knowing before this was over he would teach her a lesson she would never forget or forgive.

  Ngaire felt better next morning, and despite the early start, well rested after spending the night spooning with Kel. She laughed inwardly as the old-fashioned word sprang to mind, but it had contrasted directly with the previous night they spent together.

  She nudged Kel as the bus swung round a corner and the bridge on the old Queenstown road came into view. “Are you ready for this?”

  “More to the point, are you?”

  “I’m feeling a—what was it that woman at the vineyard said I’d soon be feeling after I fell over the cliff?—a box of birds.” She’d laughed when she’d first heard the Kiwi saying, but it perfectly described how she felt inside, chirpy and ready to surprise someone. Kel, probably.

  He leaned across her, the better to see the small jumping-off spot fastened to the side of the iron bridge. “Not delirious, are you? You seem far too pleased with yourself for a woman who had a fever last night. Sure you’ve never done a bungee jump before?”

  “Never, but I’d like to try everything at least once before I die.” Somehow, today she could say that without a chill of dread running through her veins.

  “I’m beginning to realize you’re a danger junky. Falling off that cliff has simply whetted your appetite for more. Just be thankful the tour company won’t take its buses on the road to Skipper’s Canyon. The drop from there is even longer than this.”

  Being on one of the first buses on the scene, they didn’t have long to queue for their turn. Most of the other passengers had opted for a passive take on the proceedings and wended their way down to the viewing platform set halfway above the river. Below it a small yellow boat scooped up the passengers dangling from the bottom of the bungee cord.

  After she realized the actual depth of the canyon, she hadn’t felt quite so flippant. Her see Naples and die happy attitude began to take a bit of a nosedive. She was glad they visited the shop first to buy tickets. In there, she discovered a large plastic tub of bungee-cord cutoffs that satisfied her anxiety over how safe jumping off a bridge could actually be. The dozens of elastic strands were meant to hold up more than panties.

  Yet her stomach did somersaults the closer it came to her turn. The excited squeals of the jumpers at the front of the line, echoing from below, weren’t much help, either.

  She hung on to Kel’s arm, practically bouncing with nervous anticipation, and wrapped her other arm around her waist to hold herself down. Te Ruahiki was tucked against her chest, fastened inside the day pack that she’d worn back to front with a sweater buttoned over the top for good measure. Sure, she’d considered leaving the mere behind in the safe, but it had taken on the role of a good-luck charm, a more successful talisman than the one on her suitcase. All the way down the West Coast she had known they were in greenstone country; she’d even thought of buying a miniature mere to wear as a pendant, but Kel had whisked her away before she could reach for her pocketbook.

  She sensed Te Ruahiki was as anxious to get home as she was to deliver him to Akaroa, the area her grandmother’s kin claimed as theirs. Every passing day brought them closer to her goal and a new lease on her life.

  Now that she was next in line, her arm was still hooked on to Kel’s. The man who would throw her out into space, or what felt like space, looked at them both and asked, “You two flying solo or tandem?”

  She turned to Kel. Their eyes met and they answered together. “Tandem.”

  Kel turned his khakis inside his boots before navy toweling was rolled round them to take the pressure off the bindings that would fasten around his ankles. One set for him, one set for her on the end of a single bungee cord.

  If only she’d thought to wear her jeans—she wouldn’t be imagining her skinny ankles slipping right through the cord. It was too late to back out now.

  “Ready?” asked the guy who’d leg-shackled them together. She shuffled into Kel’s arms, let him wrap them tightly around her. As if he’d never let go. Then the guy gave them the okay.

  “On the count of three. One, two…three,” he called, pushing them off just as Kel kissed her and her world turned upside down.

  He kept kissing her as they bounced up and down, his hard, solid length pressing into her belly with Te Ruahiki vibrating warmly around chest level. She wondered if he’d say anything once the boat crew released their ankles and they were rowed safely to shore. But Kel just grinned. “That was the most incredible sensation, let’s do it again.”

  “Sure thing! But this time I’ll keep my eyes open.”

  Before they stepped off the boat, Kel knew he’d fallen in more ways than one. Flying through the air clinging to Ngaire was like nothing he’d ever experienced before. The chilly air above the water had shimmered and rippled over and around them, yet he’d felt warm through to his bones.

  There had to be something he could do to extricate her from the cartel’s hold. No way could he let her go down with the rest of them. Chaly was another he’d have to approach warily on her behalf.

  Tonight he would make love to her so well, she wouldn’t be able to hold anything back. Soon he hoped to be partway to helping both her and himself at the same time.

  When they were next in line again, he waved to their less adventurous traveling companions on the platform. Ngaire made a performance of it, swinging her hands over her head as if they were champions. “Look at Jimmy Chen,” he said as she calmed down.

  “Yeah, I noticed he didn’t wave back.”

  “Bet he’s thinking we’re mad doing this voluntarily after all the fuss at Muriwai.”

  This time as he put his arms round her he felt the shimmering sensation straight away. He went to ask her if she’d noticed, when a tall man, shoulders as wide as a barn door, caught his attention. The bastard stood on the horizon next to the tour bus, but before Kel had time to do more than glance at him, Ngaire stretched up to kiss him and there was nothing between them and the ground but air.

  And though he looked for the mountain-size man after they climbed back to the top, he couldn’t see him.

  Somehow the gloss had rubbed off their last jump.

  Chapter 14

  T he Remarkables certainly lived up to their name. The mountain range crowded the shores of Lake Wakatipu like parents guarding an only child. It was almost midsummer, yet enough snow crowned the peaks to chill the evening wind. It fingered Ngaire’s hair with a careless indulgence that made Kel envious. Long wisps floated loose at her nape and ears, softening the adventure junky he’d discovered, returning her to the woman he was coming to know.

  Hell, he couldn’t avoid getting close to the woman who’d fought off a fever in his arms. Unlike his ex-wife, Ngaire responded to him sexually, not feeling revulsion at his touch.

  She was a special woman whose life had been derailed, and he intended getting her back on t
rack whether she liked it or not.

  Surely she couldn’t be in too deep. After searching his brain for answers, coming up blank nine out of ten, the only logical answer was that the cartel was blackmailing her. And he aimed to fix the situation.

  They were maybe a mile and a half from the hotel, strolling along the grass edging the lakeshore—a mown strip, broken by the occasional slender tree, chosen to enhance but not block the view that drew the tourists. They’d eaten a late dinner in Queenstown, and were ready to keep it slow and easy after a day of nothing but buzz and energy. Electrifying.

  Twilight had turned the mountains dark purple and capped them with lilac snow, while coloring the lake a milky blue only seen early or late when the sun was either a promise or a memory. That was as poetic as he got. Too much high life was turning him soft.

  “You sure you don’t mind the walk, doll? It’s still a good way to the hotel. I could flag down a cab.”

  She skipped ahead of him as if to belie she was tired. “No way. I need to walk off that meal. Draft Guinness and lamb stew at an Irish pub in the southern heartland of New Zealand. Something strike you as odd about that statement?”

  “Not when half the signs in town are in German or Japanese. That I do find odd, but the Irish have been here forever.” He touched her shoulder, the one unfettered by a strap. “Hang on.”

  “Something wrong?”

  “How’s your shoulder holding up? Does it feel bruised?” He pushed the collar of her sweater and strap of her tank top aside to run a finger down her shoulder blade. “Is it tender?”

  “Not any more than it should be after thumping into the guardrail of the jet boat. The life jacket saved me.” She spun away from him, her day pack slipping down her arm, following the movement of her body. His hand landed on her breast. They both stilled, feeling its warmth escape into his palm.

  Their eyes clashed. Desire flared and with it the need to rush back to the hotel. He squeezed gently, prolonging the transfer of heat, and continued the conversation as if sex didn’t hold them in thrall. “What do you expect when you stand waving your arms overhead when the jet boat doubles back on itself in a spin?”