An Ocean Between Us

by Serenity Woods

  “My parents divorced when I was four,” he explained quietly. “My mum had an affair and left my dad for the guy when she became pregnant. I have a half-sister, Tess. Mum’s still with her second husband, but it broke my dad.”

  It had done more than break him emotionally—Danny was convinced the shock and upset had brought on his father’s M.S. As a child, Danny had been certain his mother would return to them once she found out about his father’s illness. But he’d grown up very quickly, and by the time he was in his mid-teens, he was a lot wiser. He’d come to accept that he would be the one who’d have to look after his father for the rest of his life.

  Tess had grown up relatively free, had gone to university, and had become a teacher. Danny had only been able to watch her and try not to let anger rule his life while he worked his socks off during the day and paid nearly all the money he earned to a carer to look after his father, leaving just enough to pay the mortgage and buy food. While he struggled to have a social life because of his responsibilities. And while he fell in love, only to have his heart broken when the girl told him she didn’t want to settle down with someone who was tied to his father like that.

  He didn’t resent Tess because it wasn’t her fault, and he couldn’t bring himself to resent his father, who was more than grateful for everything Danny did for him. But in his quietest, lowest moments, Danny did feel angry and resentful towards the women in his life who had let him down and abandoned him.

  On the surface, he’d long since pushed away any notion of true love and forever, but somehow it didn’t stop feelings of disappointment resurfacing when he heard about other relationships that failed to meet the romantic expectations he’d had when he was young.

  The thought of Hermione promising to marry someone she didn’t love gave him a similar knot in his stomach. Five, ten, twenty years down the line she would regret her decision, and she would leave her husband or have an affair, or he would. Any children they had would suffer, and she would end up being miserable.

  She opened her mouth to ask a question, and he waved a hand—he didn’t want to talk about himself. “Anyway, enough about me,” he said. “We were talking about you. What’s the guy’s name? I bet it’s something medieval. Henry. Or Cuthbert. Or Aethelwulf.”

  “Aethelwulf is Saxon rather than medieval, but yes, it’s Richard.”

  “I knew it. Do you call him Dick?”

  Her lips twisted. “No.”

  “I’m going to call him Dick.”

  “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

  He glared at her. “What does he think about this arrangement?”

  “He’s happy. He likes me.”

  His anger spilled over. “He likes you? Fucking cheek. He should be getting down on his knees thanking the gods he’s marrying you.”

  A smile spread slowly across her face. “Why Danny, that’s quite a compliment, thank you.”

  “Well,” he said gruffly, “he should. I hope he treats you like a princess.”

  “He’s very nice. He’s quiet, gentle, and respectful. He’ll be a good father to any children we have.”

  “Is that really enough for you? You run a romantic retreats business, for fuck’s sake. I thought you would have been the first person to want love and passion in a relationship.”

  She sipped her wine. “What I have learned from the business is that there is much more to a relationship than passion. Marriage is about security and comfort too, and I know Richard can give me that. The love part will come later, I’m sure.” She frowned at the look on his face. “Really, Danny, it’s okay.”

  “How can you think it’s okay?” he asked, aghast. “In this day and age?” He could only imagine what his female friends, Genie, Josie, and Billie, would say if he described Hermione’s situation. Tess—a fierce feminist—would have a meltdown. Her head might actually explode.

  Hermione’s cheeks reddened. “I...I’ve come to accept it.”

  “How formal is the arrangement?”

  “I haven’t signed any paperwork, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “I meant has he actually asked you to marry him? You know, the whole go down on one knee thing?”

  She lowered her gaze. “No.”

  “Then how do you know it’s what he wants?”

  “It’s just accepted. Everyone talks about it as if it’s a done deal—his family, my family. Whenever we’re in the same room alone, he talks about what he’s going to do with the estate and the house, and what we’re going to call our kids... It’s just accepted. And I wouldn’t know how to un-accept it, even if I wanted to.”

  “Do you want to?”

  She opened her mouth to reply, then hesitated. “I’ve not even thought about it.”

  He couldn’t get his head around it. On the one hand she was extremely privileged, but on the other she appeared to have even less freedom than he did.

  She took another swallow of her wine, and he suspected she was fighting back tears. He softened inside. It seemed that neither of them had any say in their own futures. And who was he to berate her for not standing up to her father? What did Danny know about that sort of lifestyle? She was right—she couldn’t marry some car mechanic or electrician who wouldn’t have the first clue about running an estate. She needed someone who would look after and provide for her, and it sounded as if this Richard could do that, at least.

  And anyway, why was he upset? Surely the idea of marrying for security and comfort made more sense than some airy-fairy notion of “true love” that would no doubt fade like a shooting star?

  Still, the thought of her having to commit to this guy gave him a knot in his stomach.

  “Have you slept together yet?” he demanded.

  Her eyes widened. “That is none of your business.”

  “So that’s a no, then? What’s wrong with him? Is he gay?”

  She gave a reluctant laugh. “No, he’s not gay.”

  “He must be. You’re getting married. Why hasn’t he dragged you off to the bedroom and made mad, passionate love to you?”

  She chose another piece of chocolate, and the flush reappeared in her cheeks. “I wanted to wait until we were married.”

  He tipped his head, eyes widening. “You’re not a...”

  “No, Danny. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not a virgin.”

  “So you’ve had boyfriends even though you are practically engaged to this man?”

  Her spine stiffened. “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that to sound as harsh as it did. I’m interested, that’s all. I want to understand.” He was genuinely baffled.

  She pulled her knees toward her and rested her cheek on them. “I don’t know what to say. I accepted that I would marry Richard a long time ago. We’ll do fine. He’ll be a good husband and father, and when we’re married I’ll be faithful to him. But I don’t love him yet, and I’m in no hurry to cement that side of our relationship. I know he’s had girlfriends. I don’t mind—I don’t expect him to wait for me, but I didn’t see why I couldn’t do the same and have a little fun before I settled down.”

  “And have you? Had fun?”

  “A little.”

  “Only a little?”

  She met his gaze and her lips curved. “It wasn’t quite as exciting as I’d hoped.”

  “Oh.” Danny considered her thoughtfully. He felt as if this girl was covered in layer upon layer of paper, and he was unwrapping her a piece at a time. Every layer surprised him. She was independent, and yet traditional. Snooty, and yet sexy with it. Loyal, and yet desperate for some passion in her life before she settled down to marriage with a guy she didn’t love. She’d had a fling with a few guys, probably at uni, and no doubt with other upper class arrogant toffs who’d acted as if she was beneath them and barely given her the time of day, let alone multiple orgasms. No wonder her eyes had lit up when he’d approached her covered in mud and then taken off his shirt.

&nbs
p; He reached out and touched the back of his fingers to her cheek. “Well, we wouldn’t want you to go off into your medieval marriage without having had some excitement, would we?”

  She inhaled, deep and sharp. He gave her a moment to register his touch, watching her blink rapidly as she moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue.

  When she didn’t pull away, he slipped his hand to cup her head. Holding her there, he lowered his other hand to the blanket, leaned forward, and pressed his lips to hers.

  Her lips were soft, her breath sweet with chocolate and wine. He took his time to kiss her while the seagulls cried overhead and the waves crept up the sand. He kissed from one corner of her mouth to the other, then up her cheek to her ear and over to each eyelid as she closed her eyes.

  Returning to her lips, he brushed them with his tongue, requesting entrance. Her lips parted, so he stroked his tongue inside, into the warm cavern of her mouth.

  Hermione murmured in approval, and he closed his eyes too, loving the slick slide of his tongue against hers, enjoying the intimate invasion.

  Her stiff spine relaxed a little, and her hand crept up to cup his face as she delved more deeply with her tongue. Sensing she wanted more, he brought his other arm around her, and then pulled her onto his lap to cradle her in his arms.

  She gasped and placed a hand on his chest as if she meant to push him away, but instead her fingers splayed, and she stroked across to his shoulder.

  “You’re very muscular,” she whispered, pulling back to look at the way the fabric stretched across his ribs.

  “Let me make it easier for you.” Leaning away a little, he tugged the top over his head and dropped it onto the sand.

  Her jaw dropped and her eyes flared. For a moment he thought she was going to object, but instead she trailed her fingers across his pecs. “Wow.”

  He chuckled. “You approve?”

  “You’re very...” She moistened her lips again. “Masculine.”

  Danny felt oddly flustered by her admiration. His job involved hard physical labor, but he rarely gave a thought to his physique, and he’d never visited a gym in his life. He considered himself relatively intelligent, and wouldn’t have described himself as a meathead. He’d thought he’d feel resentful about being appreciated just for his body the way Tess got irritated if a guy said she had a nice butt instead of remarking on her brain, but in actual fact Hermione’s compliments gave him a warm glow. Even though previous girlfriends had complimented him on his height and his muscular build, there was something about Hermione’s blatant wonder that gave him goose bumps.

  “Help yourself,” he said, lowering his lips to hers.

  She opened her mouth to him again, exploring him with her hands while they kissed, her fingers sliding over his skin. Giving a long sigh, he lay back, taking her with him, and she stretched out, her soft body molding to his.

  He couldn’t think of anything more blissful than lying there kissing a gorgeous girl, the cool breeze brushing over his bare skin, the sand soft beneath his back. His body responded to her, hardening, throbbing, and he groaned when she moved her hips, nestling his erection into her mound.

  Her mouth was hot on his, her tongue delving deep as she grew braver, and he wrapped his hand around her braid and held it tightly as he returned the kiss with all the hunger building inside him.

  He wanted to take her dress in his hands and rip the thin fabric into shreds. To slide off her bra and panties. To lose his cargo shorts and boxers, and bury himself in her warm, velvet folds.

  But as he skimmed his hands down her back and over her hips, he felt the first stirrings of reluctance.

  No! His body yelled at him, yearning for her. She wants you, Danny! She wants to go the whole way. What kind of guy are you if you turn down a woman so desperately begging for it?

  But he wasn’t gamekeeper Oliver Mellors seducing Lady Chatterley. He was Danny Love, a hardworking, down-to-earth, but respectable self-made man. Although he might not be upper class and he didn’t have a degree, and he swore more than he probably should, he still considered himself a gentleman. He didn’t take advantage of girls who were vulnerable and lonely.

  She didn’t know who he really was. He’d thought she was just some posh tottie who sneered at the working class and needed to be taught a lesson, but beneath the toffee-nosed façade lay a gentle and honorable girl who was doing her best with the cards she’d been dealt—something he could admire. He’d lied to her, and that made him ashamed.

  Chapter Six

  Hermione was having the time of her life. She felt Danny slide one hand to rest in the small of her back, one to press between her shoulder blades, molding her to him. He felt hard all over, from the concrete biceps that tightened around her, to the flat, tight muscles of his chest, stomach, and thighs, to the stone pillar of his erection.

  When she experimentally moved her hips from side to side to arouse herself on him, he gave an approving grunt and slid his hands down to her butt. His fingers tightened there, pulling her against him, and she moaned as his erection pressed against her clit.

  Everything felt swollen and sensitive, her body responding to his in a delicious reaction to his touch. He kissed her deeply, opening his mouth to the sensual slide of her tongue, matching each thrust of hers with one of his own.

  She felt shy and uncertain what to do with this man who was so larger than life. He couldn’t be any more different to Richard, who was fair-haired, quiet, and lacked a little...oomph. Danny, on the other hand, appeared to possess a lot of oomph. Possibly more than he knew what to do with.

  She was under no illusions—this was still a seduction, and if things went further they would be having sex, not making love. But the thing was, it felt as if he was making love to her. She’d thought he’d be rough and brutish, taking what he wanted from her with little thought for her pleasure. But his hands were gentle, his kiss demanding without being hard.

  She waited for him to tear off his clothes, or maybe just unzip his fly and push aside her knickers. Instead, to her surprise, he pushed her back and his expression showed regret. “I think we should stop there.”

  Her jaw dropped. “What? Why?”

  He kissed her nose and across her cheeks. “This is going to sound extremely corny, but I respect you too much.”

  She gave an unladylike snort. “You can do better than that.” Then she swallowed, self-doubt kicking in. “Is it because you...don’t fancy me?”

  That made him laugh. “Seriously?” He moved his hips, reminding her about his erection. “Holding back is taking every ounce of willpower I possess. I’m hard enough to hammer nails into the wall.”

  “Ooh.”

  Chuckling, he kissed her eyebrows. “But I was being serious. For a start, the guys are due back soon, and I don’t want to be caught in the act.”

  As he clearly wasn’t going to take things any further, she lifted herself off him and tidied her clothes. “Didn’t you tell them to take a long lunch?”

  “Yes, but we’ve been talking longer than I anticipated, and I don’t want to hurry. If and when we make love, I want to take my time.”

  A shiver ran through her, and then his words registered. “If?”

  He hesitated. “Are you free this evening?” he asked. “Only my boss is coming back and he’d like to meet you.”

  “Um...yes, okay.” The mysterious Mr. Love. She was quite intrigued to meet the man Danny had to answer to.

  “There’s a cocktail bar in town called Between the Sheets.”

  “I know it—I drove past it yesterday.”

  “Good. It’s run by Beck—he’s a friend of mine. Can you meet me there at six? And I’ll introduce you to the boss.”

  “Of course.” Her mind refused to move away from the word ‘if’. “And then?”

  “If you’re still interested in me after you’ve spoken to him, we’ll see what happens.”

  She wrapped her arms around her knees. “Is he going to tell me tales about you being
a terrible womanizer?”

  He laughed. “Probably.”

  “I’m expecting that, Danny. Don’t worry, I don’t for a moment think this is anything but a bit of fun. I won’t be making demands on you or phoning you constantly asking when we can meet again.” She spoke earnestly—she didn’t want him to think she was so innocent that she didn’t understand what a fling was.

  His smile faded, and he met her gaze. “Right.” There was a hint of steeliness to his blue eyes.

  “Did I say something wrong?”

  His frown lifted. “Of course not.” He reached up a hand and slid it behind her neck, then pulled her down for a kiss.

  She sighed, wishing she could assuage the ache between her thighs, but it obviously wasn’t to be. As he moved back, she cleared her throat. “Well, I suppose we should get going.”

  “Yeah. Come on then.”

  They packed up the picnic stuff, and Danny carried the basket as they walked slowly back up the lawns to the house.

  They chatted as they walked, mainly about life in New Zealand. Hermione made sure to project her usual cool persona, but her brain whirled with questions.

  Why had he stopped? His excuse of the men returning didn’t make sense, as there still wasn’t any sign of them. I respect you too much was a cop-out, something guys said to mask the real reason. She’d practically begged him to take her. True, his erection had appeared to prove he found her attractive. But what kind of man said no to an offer like that?

  They reached the deck, and Danny put down the basket and pulled her toward him. Cupping her head with a hand, he held her there and kissed her. His lips were soft, with none of the fierce passion he’d exhibited earlier, tender almost, moving across her mouth with gentle pressure that nevertheless made her heart race.

  He pulled back and smiled. “I’ll see you later?”

  She nodded. He picked up the basket, winked at her, and walked away.

  *

  As the evening approached, Hermione decided to change. Her summer dress wasn’t really warm enough for the cool autumn evenings, so she took a shower and tried on twenty different outfits. What did Kiwi girls wear to a bar on a Friday night? In the UK, it was usual to dress up, but from what she’d seen here in New Zealand—in the Northland, anyway—everyone erred toward casual. Eventually she decided on jeans, a pretty blue shirt, and her newest black jacket.