I was just beginning to release some of the tension from my frame, sinking closer and closer to sleep, when a strong muscular arm came around my stomach and hauled me halfway across the bed, tucking me into Nick's front. In a split second he'd simply jockeyed me into the optimal spooning position in the bed. I ceased breathing and went entirely still.
"What are you doing?" I asked breathlessly.
"Go to sleep, angel. We'll talk about it all in the morning."
This was so wrong. Even if he'd dumped his fiancée, he couldn't just expect to pick up where we left off - eight years ago!
"Nick, I can't do this," I said seriously.
"Eva, angel, go the fuck to sleep. I'm wiped."
Then he tucked me further into his body, buried his face into the curve of my neck and inhaled deeply. And I swear, within a minute, maybe two, he was sound asleep.
But I didn't get a wink for the rest of the night.
Chapter 8
Kind Of Walked In On The Middle Of Things
Well, maybe I did get a wink of sleep, because I woke to someone kissing my neck, hot breath across my skin, a wet tongue licking a path up to my ear and then the pull of teeth against my lobe. Not to mention what his hand was doing, up under my Kenny Chesney T-Shirt, wrapped around my naked breast, finger and thumb tweaking an already taut nipple.
I moaned, thinking this was the best cowboy ghost dream to wake up on and then when I heard a deep chuckle in my ear, which my cowboy ghost had never actually done before, and felt a firm erection pressing into my back, which again my cowboy ghost had never done, I blinked my gritty eyes open and took in my horrifying predicament.
The sun was up, bright behind the drawn curtains, but as the curtains were old sheets I'd cut and sewn to cover the bare window panes when I arrived, the light in the room was practically blinding. And it was hot, which considering this was a council flat with semi-poor heating in the middle of winter, shouldn't have been the case. But Mr Inferno behind me was making up for the lack of central heating in New Zealand homes, with his hard, hot body pressed against mine.
Holy darn hell, what was happening?
"Are you mad?" I practically shouted over my shoulder at him and then attempted to pull away.
In a split second I was repositioned. Underneath Nick Anscombe's hot, hot body.
"Where are you going, angel? We've got to talk."
"We are so not talking with you on top of me, cowboy!"
"I like it when you call me that," he whispered and I kid you not, leaned in and nuzzled my neck affectionately.
"Get off me!" I shouted and gave him a good - but completely ineffectual - shove.
"Shh, you'll wake your Dad," he said, ignoring my polar-ice-cap cowgirl ice-princess glare.
"I have to check on him," I announced, grabbing the first lifeline I could see.
"Already did," Nick said softly, still nuzzling my neck. "Cup of tea and a piece of toast beside his bed, the newspaper and his radio ready to go."
Well, that was entirely too sweet, but...
"You don't understand, Nick. He needs the toilet first thing or else, well, it gets messy."
"I know, he told me," Nick surprised me by saying. "Helped him out, he's done his thing and now back in bed having a sleep in. He'll have his breakfast when he wakes, but let's not disturb the poor man, he needs a little more rest."
Where the darn hell did this Nick come from? And I had absolutely no way of being able to handle this... this care and generosity and invasion into my life. My band members didn't even know Dad was this sick, I hadn't shared it with them, how the hell did Nick figure it out after one visit glaring at my Dad across the lounge?
And then it hit me. I'd told Adam. In a fit of mental weakness, I'd spilled my guts to one of Nick's men. Of course Adam would have told Nick. Hell, Nick probably beat it out of the man. But I really didn't know how to handle this Nick, this man I had spent a good portion of the past eight years dreaming about, who had made every man who followed him less than perfect, who had come crashing back into my life reminding me how beautiful that night was, only to flaunt his new fiancée in my face.
Which wasn't entirely his fault, he didn't know I was coming back and I was the one to be playing at his woman's grand opening local talent showcase night. But I am, and he is engaged to her and why the darn hell is here, in my bed, half dressed, kissing my neck with his hand wrapped around my naked boob?
"You've got to get out of this bed," I instructed him.
"Not happening," he said against my skin and then did something with his teeth that had me writhing. Darn it all to hell! "We need to talk, you and me. Things to sort out once and for all."
"This is hardly talking," I pointed out to him, stifling a groan as his hand moved down my chest and stomach, wrapped around my hip, over the top of my panties, and pulled me hard against his obviously large erection. He even had the gall to roll his hips, as though he was proving a point or something.
"Nick, this isn't right," I explained, even as my body responded to his and pushed up into that delicious hardness.
"No, it's heaven," he mumbled bizarrely. "Thought I'd never get another taste," he went on, still rocking his erection against me, still running his hand up and down my side, still nuzzling his lips against my hot skin. "Can't let it go now." Then, as though in pain, "Angel."
I was stunned silent.
"We need to talk," I said, desperately trying to think of a way to stop this, to stop myself from responding to this man. It wasn't just his gorgeous body, the hard lines, the curves of his muscle, the heat of his smooth skin. It wasn't just the way he touched me, reverently, softly, but still commandingly, as though he knew what he wanted but was so in awe of finally having it, he handled me with care. And it wasn't just his words. Words he shouldn't have uttered, yet went right through my heart and soul.
It wasn't any of those things individually. It was all of it, together, at once, that made it so darn hard to pull away.
He didn't stop to talk, he shifted his weight, forcing my legs apart, so he could settle between my thighs and rub me in just the right way. He groaned as my legs wrapped around him automatically, muttered "angel" against my skin and then nibbled on my bottom lip, enticing me to open up.
I was fighting a losing battle, I knew it, but even though I've had a fair few cowboys since him, I'm a good person deep down inside. And although I knew it would kill me to do it, I had to think of Gen. His fiancée, the woman whose heart he had either broken or was about to break. She didn't deserve that, even as she'd necked with his cousin or whatever that guy-who-could-have-been-related-to-him was. I knew I couldn't be a part of this, even as my body, my mind and my heart begged me not to.
"Nick, what about Genevieve?" I said and then closed my eyes waiting for him to stop, having been shocked back into remembering the woman he was meant to be with right now.
"What about her?" he said, moving on from my lips as I hadn't given him purchase and starting to make his way down my throat instead.
"What do you mean, what about her?" I demanded, some of the fog lifting at his obviously uncaring words.
He tilted his head up to look at me, clearly hearing the tone of annoyance and disgust in my voice.
"Why the hell are you so concerned about Gen, angel?"
"Don't call me 'angel'," I shot back automatically.
"Oh, no, Eva, you are my angel. Always were, always will be. And you know it."
"Nick!" I said in frustration. "You have a fiancée, you can't be in my bed!" Not to mention I have a boyfriend who said he'd be here for breakfast this morning. I tried to look across the bed to my cellphone to get an idea of how much time I had before Nick needed to be gone. I didn't want to hurt Derek's feelings, he'd come a long way and I intended to let him down gently, not rub any potential infidelity on part in his face.
But Nick reached up and grabbed my chin in his hand, forcing my eyes to stay on his.
"What fiancée have I got, angel? Tell
me, because I sure as fuck haven't proposed to a woman in my life yet."
I stared at him, he glared a little frost ice-blue back at me in return. What?
"Gen," I said slowly, as though he'd had a head injury and had forgotten his past, "your fiancée, the woman wearing your grape sized engagement ring, whose shop I am playing at tonight."
"What the fuck?" Nick said pulling back slightly but not letting go of my chin, it would seem. "Why on earth would you think I'm engaged to Gen?"
It felt as though the world stopped spinning, as though everything in the universe pulled back and then came crashing towards where I lay, streaming in from every angle, pushing hard against my brain. My hands came up and took hold of each side of my head, wrapping fingers in my hair to give it a little tug.
"Eva," Nick said, removing his fingers from my chin and beginning to pry my hands free from my hair. "Angel, what's going on in that head of yours?" I just blinked at him. "OK," he said reasonably, once my hands were contained on either side of my face on the pillow at my back. "Gen is engaged to my brother, Dominic. Not me. I don't know why you would think that, but it's a mistake, angel, nothing more. So," he said with a salacious grin, "now that's sorted, can we go back to the heaven part of this morning. Eight years I've wanted you back in my arms, I intend to make good on the fantasies I've had."
It was just too much to take in. Overload. My brain was short circuiting, about to explode. My heart was beating like a pair of bongo drums, thumping against my chest. I felt a little sick, to be honest. I wanted my guitar and Garth Brooks - and I wanted them bad.
Nothing Nick had said made sense and even though my dazzled brain was trying to sort through the words and my body and heart wanted it to mean what I thought it might mean, my head said to darn hell with that. I needed space, I needed time. Just because it might be true and he wasn't currently attached to a woman at all, didn't mean I was ready to face the ghost of my past.
He'd been furious when he first met me. I'd been stunned and scared and prepared to run for my life. None of that had changed. My Dad was dying and when he's gone I'll head back to Nashville and my life. If I couldn't handle one night in the arms of Nick Anscombe all those years ago, how the darn hell was I supposed to consider several? - a week, two, three, a month, however long it took for Dad to let go. I couldn't, there was no way I could let Nick, my perfect, ice-blue eyed, cowboy back in my life and then let him go.
"I can't do this, Nick," I said and my voice sounded decidedly flat.
He jerked, as though I'd hit him.
"Can't or won't?" he asked, voice low.
"Both," I replied honestly. "My Dad's dying," I started to explain the first of many reasons why this wasn't a good idea.
"I know, you don't have to do this alone. I can help." Oh darn.
I took a breath in and continued, "I have a boyfriend."
He interrupted again. "Who has left you here for three months, who you haven't shown one second of pining after." Now how the darn hell would he know that, unless he spoke to my band?
"He's due here this morning," I added.
"Yet here you are in my arms," Nick pointed out.
"Under duress!" I argued.
"Writhing and wrapping your long legs around me, rubbing yourself back against my cock."
"You took me by surprise!" I tried.
"You wanted it," he said way too calmly.
"Well, I don't now. Derek is due here any minute."
"And I'll be beside you offering moral support while you tell him to turn around and head back to Nashville."
"I'll be following him as soon as Dad's gone!" I said desperately.
"And I'll chase after you," he said, stunning the ever-lovin' crap out of me.
No. Oh hell no. I couldn't face this. I just couldn't. Nashville was not New Zealand. That's why I went there. It was as far away from my childhood, from my neighbourhood, from everything I had left behind, including that one night in Nick Anscombe's arms, as I could get. I couldn't have them cross over. I couldn't contemplate Nick in Nashville chasing after me. If Nick could chase me, then my past could.
I couldn't do it. I just couldn't.
"No, Nick," I said desperately. "No, you won't."
"Yes I will," he insisted. "I've tasted heaven, I'm never letting go again."
"You let me go before," I pointed out and why the darn hell did I say that?
"We were young, Eva. You were twenty, stars in your eyes, the world at your feet. I was twenty-four, had no cash, had no prospects. I needed to get my shit together before I could consider offering you a life."
I stared at him, my mouth open slightly, my heart in my throat. My head shaking from side to side.
"Nick," I said pleadingly, "I've just stepped back into your life, unexpectedly, unplanned. There is no way in hell you could mean any of that." It was obvious, it was all words. He hadn't known I was coming back, he had no idea what was happening in my life, if I'd married, if I'd moved on. There was no way in darn hell he had been waiting for us to grow up so we could get together again and have a life. No way.
"I knew you were coming back the day you received the call from your mother."
What? Mum did keep me abreast of all that was happening, I wasn't sure if it was her way to remind me never to come back, or her way of rubbing in where exactly my roots lay. Because she told me the moment Gabe got incarcerated. The moment Dad got diagnosed with cancer. The moment Aunty Jessie came back into his life and Dad finally took a turn for the worse and looked like he had weeks to live. My mother made sure I was aware of everything from my past, made sure I never forgot a thing.
"How did you know?" I asked the most obvious question in a hollow voice.
"Because, angel, I've been watching you soar from afar for the past eight years," he said softly, turning my world upside down.
We stared at each other for several moments. I felt so lost, my life not my own anymore. He'd kept tabs on me. He knew where I was and what I'd been doing. For eight freakin' years.
And then something occurred to me.
"Why were you so angry when I turned up at Sweet Seduction?" If he knew I was coming back and he had our future all sorted out, why was he so irate?
He let a breath of air out on a frustrated huff. "Because you acted like you didn't know me, like you hadn't spent the best night in your life wrapped up in my arms. As if fucking me was so unimportant, you didn't even bat an eyelash when your eyes met mine from up on stage."
I let a breath of my own air out, but not in frustration, in disbelief.
"Then you couldn't have been watching closely," I said, as if to myself.
"I picked up on that," he said with a sexy smile, "and had it confirmed last night when you got so angry that your cousin landed a blow, you threw yourself onto his back and proceeded to scream at him to stop hurting your cowboy."
I said that?
"I said that? I did not!"
He started laughing, his whole body shaking with mirth. His weight pressing into me - as he hadn't moved a bit throughout our talk at all - that I felt every single rumble. It was divine.
"Yeah, you did, angel. And I'm telling you, I'm never letting go again."
Oh.
Well.
But...
"Nick, you can't uproot your life to follow me to Nashville."
"Yes I can."
I stared at him, feeling completely warm, yet totally at a loss. My dream cowboy would follow me across the seas to my new life, if I let him. If I wanted him to. I didn't know what I wanted. I had so much to consider. It wasn't as easy as he made out.
"Nashville's my sanctuary," I admitted quietly.
"I know, angel," he said softly back.
"I'm not sure, Nick," I said honestly.
"Then don't think on it yet. Perform tonight. Do your thing with your band. Look after your Dad. And Just let me be at your side. We'll see where this takes us. Yeah?"
Darn it all to hell, he was making sense and mak
ing it sound so easy. But I knew, just knew, that it wasn't. That it couldn't be that easy. Nothing in my life ever had. I needed my best friend Cary. I needed a new Martin D28 - or at the very least longer with my borrowed Breedlove - and I needed Garth Brooks. Stat.
And I needed to get up and dressed, tend to my father, face my soon-to-be-ex-kind-of-boyfriend and then prepare for the most important performance I was going to have whilst I remained in Auckland.
"I gotta get up," I said, trying to shift his big, hard body from mine.
"Not before you promise to give this a go," Nick said, not budging an inch.
"I can't promise anything, I've got things to do and a performance to prepare for and my mind is currently mush. So, move your ass, cowboy!"
"Not happening," he said on a grin. "Promise."
"Cowboy, you're pushing your luck!"
"Promise."
"No. Now do I have to call for help? Because I'm telling you now, you will not like Mrs Haversham and her walking stick across your ass."
He started laughing. "Promise me, angel," he said between chuckles.
"No. Now get off!"
"I'd do what the young lady says, mister. Or I'll be forced to knock your block off." The deep, masculine, Tennessee accent coming from just inside my bedroom door could only belong to one man in my life.
"Ah, darn it all to hell," I muttered as Nick knifed off me, gun in one hand aimed at Derek's head, his other pushing me behind his frame, in a matter of milliseconds.
"Owee, girfriend. You sure as darn hell know how to throw a welcoming party," came another familiar and much wanted southern twanged accent from behind Derek's broad shoulders.
Before Nick could stop me I was flying past his outstretched hand, bypassing Derek's big frame and throwing myself in my best friend's arms, who proceeded to spin me around and around whilst throwing his head back with laughter.
Sweet Seduction Serenade Page 9
