by Robyn Grady
Drowning in sensation, she reached across, found the hand gripping her shoulder and slid his palm down her upper arm, then over towards her breast. When his fingertips brushed the peak beneath her blouse, her womb compressed and beat a rhythm that released a hot surge of longing at the apex of her thighs. He rolled and plucked the sensitive tip until the throbbing in her belly grew to a point where she only wanted to rip off her clothes and have him finish feeding this mind-blowing want. It was official. She’d lost her mind.
But then the crush of his kiss eased enough for him to murmur against her parted lips.
‘Mmm … this is sweet.’ His smile feathered over her mouth. ‘Very sweet, indeed.’
His mouth claimed hers again while that hand ironed down her side, over the ticklish slope near her hip and across to that part of her that begged for attention. Over the fabric of her trousers, his long fingers curved down and pressed between her legs. When she melted more, his touch rode slightly higher to circle a spot that felt three heartbeats away from catching light and consuming her whole. Her every cell floated higher while her core squeezed and pulsed and reality shrank down to only this. To only Nate and only now.
When the pressure of his touch, of his kiss, lightened again, Roxy groaned as some of what the world had been before filtered in. She couldn’t care if Hollywood’s most celebrated female celebrity were knocking on her door desperate for a million-dollar dress. Her only thought was to have him back. Have him kiss her again and again.
His scratchy cheek came to rest alongside hers as his deep velvet voice rumbled at the sensitive shell of her ear.
‘I’m glad we worked out our differences.’
His mouth gravitated to her throat and nibbled down while she sighed and murmured, ‘Me too.’
‘I vote we take this to your bedroom.’ His tongue looped around the hollow at the base of her throat. ‘Call me cautious but I’m not a friend of stray needles.’
Spreading her fingers over his shoulder, she arched towards him and, as if the world were about to end and this would be their last, he scooped under her back, lifted her higher and kissed her again. The raw sensation he mined from deep inside left her mind blank but for the stars. His next words were muffled and rough as he spoke against her lips as if he couldn’t bear to leave them.
‘Which way?’
She was prying his shirt tails out from beneath his belt. ‘Which way what?’
She felt his grin. ‘Your bedroom.’
Oh, yes. She hummed out a smile. She longed to sprawl out on cool sheets while he flicked open her blouse buttons, wound the silk from her shoulders, peeled the bra from here … from her …
A sudden heart-stopping fright seized her chest and Roxy’s eyes flew open as ice-cold dread fell like a lead weight through her middle. She’d totally forgotten. Beneath her blouse, her chemise, she wore underwear a prim great-aunt would be ashamed of. She couldn’t let him see her in granny pants. But now they’d come this far, what could she do or say to get around it? Maybe if they went to the bedroom and kept the lights off.
She blinked and came back to the here and now. Nate was peering down at her most curiously. Her face beginning to burn, Roxy eased up and sat alongside him while he studied her face, then carefully cupped her cheek.
‘You went all stiff,’ he said. ‘Did I do something wrong?’
‘No.’ God, no! ‘I was just thinking, ah … thinking that I should, um …’ She searched her panicked brain, gave a quick smile and a shrug. ‘That I should go freshen up.’
‘Well, sure.’ He cleared his throat, siphoned down a settling breath, then looked at her closer still. ‘Roxy, are you sure everything’s okay? Because if you’re uncomfortable with us getting together like this—without any added strings, I mean—tell me. I’d rather know.’
She took in the earnest slant of his brows, the cautionary tone in his voice, and more of those glorious got-to-have-you feelings fragmented and floated away. Pulling her mouth to one side, she brushed hair back from her face and replied.
‘Nate, I don’t need to be told that this is sex for sex’s sake.’
His expression softened as his eyes dropped to stroke her lips once more. ‘You know that’s not the way I see this.’
In a skilled fluid movement, he angled to bring her against him again. But a flattened palm against his hard chest stopped him dead. She needed to know.
‘How do you see this?’
‘As two like-minded people moving forward, coming together.’ His hot mouth brushed and tickled her ear. ‘Hopefully coming a lot.’
Cute. But not the answer she was looking for.
When a knuckle drew a confident line up her throat and urged her chin back—when she found her mouth a breath away from his again—unease rose higher, her throat closed off and, decided, she got to her feet. Straightening her blouse, she tried to gather her jumbled thoughts. One day he was running and the next he was all over her, but making doubly sure that she knew this meant nothing beyond the physical. A quick romp in the sack. No doubt the same kind of tumble he’d enjoyed with that brunette from the photo, and how many more since.
‘Is this how you treat every woman you’re attracted to?’
He looked insulted. ‘Of course not.’
‘Then why me?’
‘Because, unless you hadn’t noticed, I’m not simply attracted to you.’ A line formed between his brows before he rubbed his palms up and down his long hard thighs. ‘It’s complicated.’
‘Unlike a quick shag in my bed tonight.’
‘No, actually, that is complicated.’ His gaze and voice dropped. ‘More complicated than you could imagine.’
To keep her heart from dropping any lower, she knotted her arms over her waist. ‘I need some answers, Nate, and I need them fast.’
‘You wouldn’t believe it.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘Try me.’
He squared his shoulders, rubbed his thighs again.
‘If you really want to know,’ he said, ‘my family is cursed, although cursed is an interchangeable term. My parents and grandparents would say that we’re blessed.’
She edged away. ‘Okay. Now you’re freaking me out. Do you all turn into snarling wolves on a full moon?’
‘Only Great-uncle Stuart on my mother’s side.’ Her mouth dropped open and he grinned. ‘Now you can laugh.’
She glared but refrained from telling him to forget she’d ever asked. A curse. Well, at least he had imagination.
‘Go on,’ she said. ‘I’m listening. Although I’m not certain why.’
‘From as far back as anyone can remember,’ he said, pushing to his feet, ‘Sparks men have been hit hard when Cupid’s arrow strikes.’
‘That doesn’t sound so tragic to me. In fact, it sounds rather romantic.’
‘Romantic, lucky, decisive. All those things and, apparently, all good for those who have come before me. Dad, Grandfather Sparks and on up the line … they’ve all fallen and for the right woman, it would seem. Each couple has tied the knot within weeks of starting to date. Nine months on, like clockwork, the first child comes along, and any plans for a career, for a solid future, is put on the back burner indefinitely. My father could have been a surgeon. Instead for years he cleaned bedpans.’
‘And that’s the curse’s fault?’
His chiselled features hardened more. ‘My predecessors have given up everything for love. Career. Health. In some instances, their sanity. Call me selfish or an egotist but I don’t want to be a hospital wardsman or the road maintenance guy who holds up slow-down signs when I can work in a professional field that I’m good at. That I enjoy.’
Roxy eyed him up and down. This was hogwash. Curses weren’t real. Intelligent men weren’t bewitched by women who sucked out their souls. This must be another scam, like when, earlier, he’d manipulated Ava Morris into believing he was a genuine guy with a fiancée he adored. Having said that, she would concede she was beyond grateful for the sale. At least she coul
d pay some outstanding bills.
And yet as she continued to study him Roxy couldn’t help but be halfway convinced by the resignation shining in his eyes. Could he have been brainwashed from childhood into accepting this family curse junk? Common sense wasn’t a factor when you were taught from birth what to believe. What was truth. Like, Your father does love us. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t come back.
‘This has really got you convinced, hasn’t it?’
‘I grew up dirt poor,’ he said, ‘which I can more than handle. The really hard part was having a father who couldn’t function without his other half. I’m saying if my mother had died, he would have died too. When you have five kids to consider, I don’t care how many love stories you’ve seen, that’s not romantic. It’s—’
Growling, he bit off the word.
‘You’re the only son,’ she said. The oldest. ‘What do your sisters say?’
‘They never had careers to consider. And before you pounce, my respect for a woman doesn’t hinge on whether she has a career or not. I’m just saying.’
Being the only other ‘man’ in the family, perhaps Nate felt the responsibility—the link with his parents—more deeply or differently than the girls. She had to ask.
‘Sure there’s not a little Oedipus syndrome going on here?’
He pulled a pained face. ‘But even if there were, fact remains, I’m not ready to settle down. Fall in love. Gamble my future or throw it away.’
Her smile was thin. Nice. ‘I pity the poor girl you end up proposing to—properly, that is.’
‘That’s a long way off.’
She studied the firm set of his mouth and for a heartbeat she wanted to comfort him. Seemed his childhood wasn’t as rosy as she first thought. He’d grown up feeling pushed to the background. Feeling as if he and his siblings didn’t matter as much as they should. At least when her father had been home, he’d showered her with affection. Her dad was a charismatic man, the kind who didn’t self-analyze or register any guilt.
But as much as Roxy sympathized with ‘Nate the boy’, a stronger part of her said, Enough. A whole new stream of commitment phobia could be named after ‘grown-up Nate’. Whether he was justified in his negative stand regarding love and marriage, she wasn’t in a position to say. She hadn’t lived his life and didn’t own anyone’s opinions. She could only look after her own best interests and more than ever they seemed clear.
Roxy shored herself up. ‘It’s certainly been an interesting evening.’
The tension in his face, in his stance, seemed to ease. A grateful smile hooked one corner of his mouth at the same time long warm fingers curled around her hand and, just like that, a bevy of sparks spiralled up her arm, stole her breath.
‘So you do understand,’ he said.
‘Frankly, I’m not sure if I do or I don’t. I only know I don’t feel as convinced about having you stay as I did five minutes ago.’
On a logical level, she knew that at this point in their lives neither wanted anything as serious as marriage. But she simply couldn’t sleep with someone who made it sound as if she was little more than a release for sexual cravings. Yes, she’d been as turned on as Nate, but, now that she’d had time to take a breath, she knew this scenario was all wrong. She wasn’t after phone calls every night; however, neither would she accept, Thanks for the hump. I’ll call if I call. That was too darn close to the treatment her mother had accepted. She had more respect for herself than that.
His grip and jaw tightened even as his grin grew and he joked. ‘I could go with the curse turning me into a wolf if that’d help.’
She couldn’t see anything would.
Feeling flat but resigned, she slipped her hand away from his. ‘I need for you to go.’
CHAPTER FOUR
SITTING on the verandah of Marla’s third-storey apartment late the next day, Roxy slid another Scrabble tile onto the game board and in a supportive tone asked her friend the question that had hung in the air since she’d arrived.
‘How are you holding up?’
‘All things considered …’ Absently studying the board, which had been handed down through her family from the fifties, Marla shrugged. ‘It’ll take a while.’
‘Have you heard from Greg?’
‘Not since that slideshow.’
Greg running slides of their most romantic moments from a projector onto a screen outside her apartment had been an inventive way to reach Marla when she wouldn’t take his calls. The upshot, however, was that the shots had reminded Marla of those despised pictures she’d seen on the Net. She’d been less than impressed.
‘Greg broke my heart,’ Marla went on. ‘I don’t know if I’ll ever trust a man again. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him, have children together.’ Shaking back her auburn locks, she put more steel into her voice. ‘I can’t believe he was groping a near-naked woman behind my back, and who knows what else? A lot more happens at those buck’s nights than some women might think. A lot more.’
Surrounded by sweet-smelling umbrellas of Jacaranda blooms, Roxy mulled over Marla’s heartbreaking situation as well as Nate’s suggestion they ought to get the couple together to give them time to sort it out. When she’d asked Nate to leave last night, Roxy had been determined that would be the last she’d ever hear of him or that plan, and Marla’s response now only validated her decision. Her friend needed time to heal, not a web of lies that would hurl her into the face of the person who had shredded her heart.
Good or bad, images stuck. Heck, Marla had never been snapped fondling another person’s private parts.
Although.
Roxy remembered at the hen’s night, as part of the show, a nicely built topless waiter had flirted with the bride-to-be unashamedly and Roxy had laughed and cheered as hard as the rest. What would Greg say if he were to watch a tape of that? Was it a once-in-a-lifetime situation, a bit of harmless fun or something best kept concealed? One day when the right man came along, no doubt she would enjoy a hen’s night too.
But if what Nate said was true, a Sparks man didn’t care to celebrate a buck’s night so much as make a commitment to the woman he adored. And in truth, despite being annoyed, frustrated—hurt—Roxy had to wonder. When he got over his angst and did allow himself to fall in love, would Nate make a devoted husband? Someone a wife could be proud to have at her side? Would it be a case of ‘like Sparks father like Sparks son’?
Each deep in their own thoughts, the women played a few more words before Marla spoke again.
‘I wasn’t going to tell you until plans were set, but it’s only a matter of a week or so now.’
Curious, Roxy glanced up from collecting more tiles. ‘What plans?’
‘I’m leaving the country. I’ve told you about my brother and his IT firm in California. He suggested I go stay with him a while. Learn something different. Make new friends.’ Marla reached over and caught Roxy’s arm. ‘Not that I don’t value the ones I have here.’ She tried to smile. ‘You understand, don’t you, Rox?’
Feeling giddy, Roxy had to sit back. She knew, despite the distance, Marla was close to her brother, but this decision had left her reeling.
‘How long will you be gone?’
‘A year. Two.’ Marla shrugged. ‘I’m not sure.’
On one hand Roxy was pleased Marla had decided to take a firm grip on life’s reins and move forward. Neither of them was the type to wallow in self-pity and, given that Marla earned a living as a freelance business consultant, she didn’t have any concrete employment ties. On the other, Roxy would miss her friend like crazy. They did so much together, had shared so much.
And there was Greg, a man who had pledged his innocence … just as Roxy’s father always had.
But was it possible that Nate was right? What if Greg had been a victim of circumstance and he and Marla could get over this major bump in their road? That would never happen with ten thousand miles and two years or more separating them.
Until a moment ago
, she’d been better than okay with letting matters take their own course. But with Marla deciding to leave—and so soon—suddenly the way ahead didn’t seem quite so clear.
Roxy set down the last tile in her word—an H—and summoned the courage to ask. ‘What if you woke up tomorrow morning and found out it had all been a horrible mistake. That Greg hadn’t done anything wrong and you could still go ahead with the wedding?’
Her eyes glistening, Marla sighed. ‘If that were to happen, if I could somehow truly find that faith again and get those pictures out of my mind … well, I’d be the happiest, most relieved woman in the world.’
Then, with a wan smile, she set down three letters after Roxy’s. The word spelled HOPE.
‘You have to come to the anniversary party. Mum and Dad will be crushed if you don’t.’
Nate turned away from his sister—the second eldest of the Sparks siblings—to resume a seat at his apartment’s dining room table; he’d been sorting out reports before Ivy’s unexpected visit. He didn’t mind being interrupted. He simply felt uncomfortable about the reason.
‘I never said I wouldn’t go.’ He dragged over a pile of papers. ‘It’s just I probably won’t stay long.’
‘If you have a hot date lined up, bring her.’
‘I don’t have a hot date.’
‘Then maybe you should find one.’
He sent her a look. ‘Don’t start on me about finding a nice girl and settling down. I get enough of that from our father.’
‘I’m not talking about till death us do part.’ Ivy’s blue-grey eyes filled with needless sympathy. ‘I’d simply like to see you get out from under your grindstone and let your hair down a bit. We all would. You’ve been so focused on getting this business of yours off the ground, you barely take time to eat.’
‘I eat. And I have a personal life.’
She arched an eyebrow and looked over the papers. ‘So, what’s this you’re busy with?’
‘I’m sorting out performance charts for reps as a function of purchasing patterns and meeting bi-annual budgets.’
