by Robyn Grady
Stunned, Greg was slowly shaking his head. ‘Marla? What are you doing here?’ He looked to Roxy, who now stood behind her friend, then Nate, and finally his face filled with dark understanding. His jaw jutting forward, he slotted his sunglasses in his shirt’s top pocket and glared at his friend.
‘You’d better start talking,’ Greg said, ‘and for both our sakes, it’d better be good.’
Nate wasn’t sure how he managed it, but he persuaded everyone to sit calmly around the faded cedar setting, positioned beneath the homestead’s corrugated-iron verandah roof, without having his head torn off. Given the tight line of Marla’s mouth, she didn’t want to share space with Greg, and from the vein pulsing at Greg’s temple, he wasn’t too comfortable being around Nate right now. But the only alternative was grand theft auto of the Glenrowans’ pickup or finding a willing kangaroo to piggyback home, so the pair held their tempers and listened.
Serenaded by bush birds and fortified by tall glasses of Mrs Glenrowan’s cool lemonade, Nate explained how this situation had come about, starting with his visit to Roxy’s salon. He made clear that Roxy had agreed to this plan only after Marla had announced her trip to California. He also emphasized his belief that to do nothing was sometimes worse than forging ahead with only the best intentions in mind.
He concluded, ‘Marla, you’re understandably hurt by those photos, and Greg had done all he thought he could to apologize and make that hurt up to you. But maybe if you both sit down and talk about it, face to face, something can be resolved, even if it’s only shedding some of these bad feelings before Marla goes to California.’
When Marla quietly groaned and flicked a not entirely repulsed glance Greg’s way, Nate’s hopes lifted. If she was willing to at least listen, that was a start. But then she pushed to her feet, her slim nostrils flared, and she spoke to Roxy.
‘I don’t know if I can ever forgive you for putting me in this position.’ Her eyes began to glisten. ‘After everything we’ve been through together, you do this.’
While Roxy bowed her head, Marla went to move back inside. But then Greg stood too.
‘She only did what she hoped was right,’ he said. ‘Hell, Marla, if we’re talking about friendship, these two are the best. Roxy and Nate have faith in us. Can’t you have a little faith too? Just enough to at least hear me out properly.’ His heart in his eyes, he stepped forward. ‘You’re the person I wanted to share the rest of my life with. I still want that, more than anything.’
Nate held that breath while Roxy bit her lip and Marla glared at her ex. Little by little, the pain in her expression morphed into something less hostile and more yielding.
‘I guess I know you didn’t do this to hurt me, Roxy,’ Marla said. ‘It’s just so … Well, I never dreamed …’ Gathering herself, she drew up tall. ‘I suppose, given you and Nate went to all this trouble and we’re here, Greg and I could talk.’ When Greg sighed out a smile and tipped forward, Marla put up both her palms. ‘That in no way means I’ve changed my mind. Only that I’m willing to hear anything new you have to say.’ She looked to Roxy. ‘How many days are we here?’
‘Four,’ Roxy said.
Hugging herself, Marla gazed out over the endless plain of red dirt, tufts of Mitchell grass, drooping eucalypts, and muttered, ‘Guess I’d better unpack.’
‘I thought we might go for a swim,’ Nate pitched in. ‘The website shows a great-looking creek nearby.’
‘If you can believe a photo on a website.’
Marla was being wry about Greg’s predicament but she had a point. That website made this place look like an Outback palace. Maybe once—a long time ago. Not that luxury was needed for love to thrive. Heck, just look at his parents.
As Marla headed back inside, Greg picked up his bag. ‘I should thank you both for organizing this, but I’ll hold off to see how it all pans out. I could as easily end up with a fry pan landing on my head as getting Marla’s arms back around me.’ He moved off. ‘Hope you have something amazing lined up for your next Act.’
Sitting in that flaky timber setting, shards of early afternoon sun slanting in, Roxy had never looked more beautiful or more uncertain. She gripped her chair’s arm and waited until Greg was out of earshot before asking, ‘I know the overall plan but … what exactly do we have lined up?’
Nate leaned closer and, fighting the overwhelming urge to tell her to forget about the other two for a moment and to concentrate working on them, he assured her.
‘Our next move can’t fail. It involves heating things up at the same time they’re both cooling down.’
She nodded slowly. ‘The creek.’
‘You and I can splash around, share a bit of laughter and lift this mood. When they lower their guard, join in and start talking, we’ll leave them to their own devices.’
‘I packed a swimsuit.’
‘I’m hoping swimsuits won’t be needed for long.’ When she flashed him a look, he back-pedalled quick. ‘For Greg and Marla, I mean.’
Suspicion darkened her face. ‘I agreed to help. I’m here. But in case you have something else in mind, I’ll be clear. Not happening.’
He feigned innocence. ‘What’s not happening?’
‘Us getting too close.’
‘How close is too close?’
She deadpanned, ‘Kissing-distance close, Nate.’
‘Thing is, I think if we show Marla that we’ve gotten over our differences, she’d be more amenable to getting over theirs.’
‘Only we haven’t gotten over our differences.’
‘Right.’ His gaze flicked to her full pink lips, then back to her determined gaze and he shrugged. ‘I just thought you meant what you said.’
‘And just what did I say?’
‘That you liked me holding you.’ He leaned a smidgeon closer. ‘Kissing you.’
Her eyes widened and her mouth quivered before she found a threadbare voice. ‘That is not the point.’
‘What is the point?’
‘That you have some crazy idea about curses and, frankly, I don’t trust you.’
He remembered the way she’d moved against him, the way she’d sighed in her throat. She’d trusted him then—before she’d frozen up. Now he wondered again. ‘You never did tell me why you got distracted that night on your couch.’
A blush stained her cheeks and she gripped that chair arm again. ‘None of that matters now.’
‘Because you believe in letting bygones be bygones?’
‘Because you and me—us, Nate—we’re done. I agreed to come here only to help Marla, not get all up-close-and-personal with you.’
She stormed inside, a clapped-out screen door slamming behind her, while Nate bit down to stop himself from hauling her back and letting her know just how wrong she was. She thought they were done? Seeing her again, having her near—it only made his reasoning these past days clearer. Stronger. Maybe he wouldn’t make love to Roxy the way he’d been dreaming, but one thing was certain.
With four days and four nights, it wouldn’t be for lack of trying.
CHAPTER SIX
THE creek turned out to be divine—a wide meandering stream shaded by the far-reaching branches of sleepy coolabahs. The water, babbling over a scattering of polished stones, was clearer than any Roxy had seen. Given the hot afternoon, with neither breeze nor cloud to soften the hard beat of the sun, it also looked wonderfully cool.
Cool was precisely what this scene called for.
Half an hour after Nate’s confession on the verandah, Marla sat nearby atop a flat rock overhanging the water, tight-lipped and looking as if she’d rather be chewing ground glass. His face hard, Greg was throwing stones into the water, waiting for the ripples to die before casting another. From the concentrated expression on Nate’s face, he was concocting a way to break the deadlock.
Roxy huffed.
Good luck with that.
Suddenly animated, Nate kicked off his shoes, then rubbed his hands together. ‘Well, no use standin
g around. I’m going in. Who’s joining me?’ The other two ignored him, so he turned to Roxy and asked, ‘How about it?’
She forced a smile when inside she was shaking. Not because of Marla and Greg’s continuing standoff—although that was discouraging. Not because she was about to peel off this dress and reveal her figure in a bikini, even if her thighs and butt were larger than she’d have liked. What troubled her was what Nate had planned. Some splashing, he’d said. A little laughter. Together in that creek. Perhaps it wasn’t too late to back out, go home.
Surveying the water, Nate began removing his shirt, absently unbuttoning, then rolling one big shoulder out of the fabric and the next while Roxy could only stare. Many times, particularly late at night, she’d imagined him sans shirt. She’d expected broad and naturally bronzed, but never this much superbly honed sinew and muscle. That body belonged on a billboard.
Then he started on his jeans.
But, hand on fly, he stilled. She felt him look over and, guilty, her gaze flew up to his. He was smiling, a smouldering knowing grin that lit his eyes and set her face and blood on fire.
Gathering her thoughts, she cleared her throat and angled away. From the corner of her eye, she saw him strolling over … felt him studying her from top to curling toe.
‘You’re coming in, aren’t you?’ He eased the jeans down over two long hard thighs. ‘Need some help? A zip maybe?’
Sparks rushed through her veins. His remark was meant to remind her of that afternoon in her shop and how he’d drawn her near a heartbeat before his mouth had claimed hers. She’d been lost in his embrace that day—that night too, as well as the evening when he’d dropped her off from Marla and Greg’s engagement party six months ago. Each time they’d been fully clothed. The only bare flesh had been their lips, their hands. If he touched her now, given what he wasn’t wearing, her feet might never find the ground.
Jeans kicked aside, he ran a thumb around the inside band of black shorts that hung perfectly on his lean hips. Was it the trail of dark hair, or the hard outline of sculpted abdominal muscles that dipped beneath the band of shorts beside his thumb? Whatever the lure, that span between navel and what those shorts were hiding shouldn’t be allowed out in public without a licence.
When she caught his words, ‘Maybe I should throw you in,’ Roxy was hauled back.
‘Don’t you dare!’
‘What if I do?’
As he prowled closer, those gorgeous shoulders rolling towards her, she backed up and warned him, ‘You never know. I might scream.’
‘I’ll risk it.’
‘You don’t take those kinds of risks.’
‘Maybe I’m on the cusp of a change.’
‘And maybe my hair is green.’
Her back met with a massive tree trunk. Boulders rose up either side. Attempt at escape was useless.
Grinning, he kept coming until his chest was so close, if she’d tipped forward a few degrees, she could run her lips over that masterpiece and taste it.
His voice lowered to a deep and private whisper. ‘Hey, I think we have their attention.’
She blinked and almost asked, Whose attention? But then elements other than the bone-melting effect of his musky scent and body heat filtered through the fog, and she remembered the true situation and slid a surreptitious look the warring couple’s way. Although pretending not to, both Marla and Greg were watching, interested, obviously waiting for their next move.
Nate whispered again, a hypnotic sexy drawl.
‘Now, take off your clothes.’
Her skin flashing hot, Roxy moistened her lips. But she was overreacting. Of course, he knew she wore a swimsuit underneath. She corrected him.
‘You mean take off my dress.’
‘That’s a start.’ He cocked his head and summed her up again, his X-ray gaze devouring every inch.
‘On second thought,’ he said, ‘I vote we strip you in the water.’
Knees gone to jelly, she pressed back against the trunk and tried to sound unaffected. ‘Who said anything about a vote? This isn’t a democracy.’
‘You’re right.’ His brows nudged together. ‘It’s not.’
He moved so fast, she didn’t have time to duck under his arm or try to push him away, not that either move would’ve made a difference. When Nate scooped her up, she was faced with a testosterone-infused power that both alarmed and, frankly, excited her too. As those muscles locked her effortlessly in and he carried her with sure long strides towards the creek, she felt energized and aroused—a glaring contrast to how she ought to feel. She should be outraged, not secretly plagued by the desire to press more into the hard hot feel of him. At least she was genuinely shrieking, kicking her legs and begging that he let her down. If she went swimming, she’d get in at her own pace.
Nate crashed through the water, cool wet soaked up her dress and, laughing, he asked, ‘Would you rather fast or slow?’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Do you prefer to be dumped or swirled in bit by bit?’
Pushing a palm against his granite chest, she struggled and muttered, ‘As if my opinion counts.’
‘I like the idea of hearing you scream out my name as I throw you up into the air. But drawing out the experience, taking it slow, appeals even more.’
The fiend. He wasn’t talking about the water. He was letting her know how he wanted to take her in a physical, purely sexual sense, even after she’d told him again that wasn’t happening. And it wasn’t. Nothing could make her climb on that hot-cold, curse-on/curse-off, merry-go-round again, no matter how incredibly wonderful his body looked, smelled. Felt.
When he swirled around, pebbles crunched beneath his feet and silky water sluiced up her back, over her hips. Loathing to be dropped, she clung on, one arm twined around his strong neck. The hand that had previously pushed at him was now, of necessity, gripping one exceptionally firm pec. He checked out her hold and arched a brow.
‘I think you’re enjoying this.’
She growled. ‘Enjoy this.’
Reaching down, she swept up a handful and flung water up at his face.
His every fibre seemed to tense before he shook his head quickly to shift the glistening droplets from his hair. Growling himself now—but with pleasure, not irritation—he pinned her with a devilish look that made her regret she’d tested him. His grin slowly grew, then, without warning, as she’d feared, she was dropped into the drink.
Two seconds later, she came up spluttering—and, damn the man, ready to fight.
She jumped at him—on him—and somehow managed to push him over. Or had he simply let her? Either way, she was on top now and intended to take every advantage. Pushing on his shoulders, she forced his smirk under the ripples. The next instant, he was pushing back, jettisoning her over and into the stream.
She battled back and he let her gain ground before he secured her—his hands around and near spanning her waist—while she thrashed and twisted. She’d never been more riled … and he’d never seemed more attractive, particularly with his chest filled with rumbling laughter.
Thing was that she was laughing too—and so hard, she felt filled with it.
As the moment stretched out the struggling and laughter eased, but they continued holding and steadying each other. Her hands at the base of his neck, his clasped around her middle, their laboured breathing evened as Roxy grew profoundly aware of those male fingers digging into her flesh, of the way his gaze stroked her lips and how desperately she wanted him to act again without asking permission. This minute. Now. She needed him to go ahead and kiss her till the world stopped turning and she couldn’t remember who she was, or where, or why …
Without conscious thought, her fingers filed up the cool wet column of his throat, over the hot pulse that beat below his ear, then around the sexy sandpaper-rough of his jaw while his loaded gaze smouldered into hers. As her heartbeat thundered on she drew a line along the bow of his full lower lip and marvelled at how h
is expression intensified and the muscles in her belly contracted and warmed.
With painstaking care, he lifted her a little higher so that her still-sandalled toes left the creek floor. Falling deeper into the trance, she allowed her eyes to drift shut while she waited for their lips to touch … for his mouth to capture and consume her. Instead she heard her name murmured as if the words had come from afar.
‘Roxy, it’s over.’
Her eyes dragged open. His face—that mouth—was tantalizingly close and his breath was teasingly warm on her cheek. Wasn’t this what he wanted? Why on earth was he waiting?
‘What’s over?’ she asked.
‘They’ve gone. Or at least I’m pretty sure they are.’
Her first thought was to bat those words aside. All she cared about was melding into Nate’s caress, knowing more about this sizzle and pull. But as he continued to look down at her, dark brows knitted, her mind shifted and she swam up from the haze. The splashing, joking—flirting.
This wasn’t for their benefit. It was for Marla and Greg’s.
If she’d thought her heart had hammered before, this moment her chest—her entire body—felt as if it were booming. Nate’s charm never failed to entice her. Entrap her. She was as vulnerable this moment as she’d been every other time they’d touched. Her nerve-endings buzzing, she felt aroused to her very core.
But more so she was embarrassed. He’d told her they should let their friends believe they’d got past their differences. But Greg and Marla weren’t the only ones fooled. And why shouldn’t she be convinced? Nate should give lessons.
Water dripping down her face, she angled to see. Where previously their friends had stood, only dry gum leaves now lay. Lowering her arms, she flicked her wet hands and assumed a resigned mask.
‘Maybe they’ve gone for a trek down the bank.’
Mr Glenrowan had suggested they take his pickup in case, after a big swim, anyone was too tired to walk back. Parking just beyond the bank’s skirt of trees, Nate had left the keys in the ignition. Now, they heard that engine splutter to life. Next came a series of distant gear crunches, then the sound of tyres rolling away.
