by Alyssia Leon
She swayed a little closer to him, eyes half-closed, her face tilted up in invitation.
Bill drew a sharp breath, his eyes widening. Then like a starved man, he reached for her, snaking an arm around her waist, the other hand going behind her head before he captured her mouth with his. Closing her eyes, Aura gave him everything he demanded, and when he probed the seam of her lips with his tongue she opened her mouth dutifully. He held her pressed against the length of his hard body. The stubbled roughness of his chin rubbed against her skin; the fresh sea-breeze scent of his cologne filled her nostrils, and the heat of his body flowed into hers. It was pleasant, and she waited patiently for it to be over.
Bill pulled away and gazed down at her, his face flushed and his eyes full of wonder. “Please tell me we’re doing this again, and soon.”
Excuses tripped on the tip of her tongue. I’m not sure I’m ready. Maybe we should take this slow. But that would be falling back into old habits. And kissing him had been better than she’d expected. He was a decent kisser, given her limited experience. Oh, what the hell, she needed to move forward with her life, didn’t she?
She smiled and nodded.
Bill’s shoulders relaxed as if he’d been bracing himself for her rejection, and he grinned.
At once, guilt poured through her, and avoiding his gaze, she fumbled in her purse for her keys. Finding them, she quickly opened the front door. “Mum’s probably asleep so I can’t ask you in…”
“Hey, it’s okay.” He placed a swift kiss on her lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” And the look he gave her left her in no doubt that he would.
He waited for her to go inside and close the door, and once in, she leaned back against it, guilt washing over her in ever increasing amounts.
How far could she go with this? Bill wanted her, it was there as plain as day in his eyes, but was she being fair? How much did she want him?
For goodness sake, She didn’t want to remain a virgin forever, holding on to memories of Nathan, did she? So why not Bill? He would be gentle with her. They would have to wait and see where things led between them in the future, but for now maybe this was the start she needed to begin living again.
* * *
The Bentley crawled to a stop.
“We’re here, sir. I’ll just go and check someone’s in, shall I?”
“Thank you, George.”
The driver’s door opened and closed, and Nathan leaned back against the back seat headrest. He didn’t need to see to know they’d parked in front of a house with a red door, the last in a row of cut and paste grey stone townhouses. The image was as clear as a photograph in his mind.
Langley was a sleepy town, stuck in a previous era where the only two buildings that got the most footfall were the supermarket in the middle of the town and the pub opposite it. Why his father had chosen to move here after marrying Cathy was anyone’s guess. Ralph had been a businessman running his own glass-making factory near London. He’d had the money to keep his ex-wife Vivienne in style and send Nathan to the best private school in the country. Why then had he chosen a backwater like Langley, this far up north?
Nathan’s lips firmed. He’d never been interested in his father’s choices, and he wasn’t about to start now. Still, he’d bet money that Langley hadn’t changed in the four years he’d stayed away.
Had Aura changed?
A frown creased his brow. This wasn’t how he’d planned on seeing her again, bandaged up like an invalid, but then, had he ever intended on returning to her?
He’d lived in the hope she’d marry and move on, thus giving him a reason to bury the craving within him, but the occasional snoop he’d allowed himself into her life had shown him she hadn’t.
The door beside him opened and the cold February air bit through the fine wool suit he wore.
“Ready, sir?”
Nathan breathed in the crisp clean Yorkshire air, and the same excitement he’d felt in the hospital yesterday rolled through him. With a nod, he allowed his chauffeur to help him out of the car and on to the slab-stone pavement.
4
Aura bounced on her toes on the front porch step, her arms wrapped tight around herself against the chill of the early morning air. She’d rushed out after the chauffeur had knocked without bothering to throw on her coat, and her jeans and thin pink henley top were proving to be useless outside.
She glanced at her mother beside her. Mum was still in her cream pyjamas, but had a fluffy blue housecoat on top. She may have been warm, but the expression of pure jitters on her face said she was far from comfortable.
Aura forced herself to breathe deep, willing herself to be calm. She wasn’t going to look like a nervous wreck in front of Nathan. She had to look cool and collected, like he always did.
The monster black Bentley parked right behind her tiny, mint-green Fiat 500 made her beloved car look like a granny’s set of wheels. And the Bentley came accessorized with a uniformed and capped chauffeur. She shouldn’t be surprised. Nathan moved in spheres she couldn’t even imagine, but it was one thing to read about him in magazines and online articles, and quite another to have the difference between them so blatantly thrust in her face. She gulped and strained to catch a glimpse into the back of the Bentley, but the dark tinted windows thwarted her.
The chauffeur opened the back door, but blocked her view as he bent forward slightly, one arm out. Nathan stepped out, one hand on the chauffeur’s arm, the other on the car door, steadying himself, and Aura gasped.
He was taller, bigger than she remembered, his shoulders broader, though his face had the same striking, perfectly formed features that haunted her every dream. In his crisp black suit, indigo dress shirt and polished black oxfords, he could have been headed for a board meeting somewhere, but it was the heavy black wrap over his eyes that nearly stopped her heart.
Oh god! He was hurt worse than she’d thought. His beautiful eyes.
“Nathan!”
His name was drawn from her before she could stop it, and she took automatic steps towards him, but he turned his head precisely in her direction, as if he could see her through the thick bandaging, a frown marring his forehead, and she froze in her tracks.
“Oh my heavens!” Mum clasped a hand to her chest and rushed down their short walkway. She took Nathan’s hand from the chauffeur’s, grasping it in her own.
Nathan jerked in shock, but then relaxed, leaning into her slightly. “Cathy, thanks for having me here.”
“Oh, Nathan, where else would you be at a time like this?” Mum stared at his bandage, worry in her eyes.
Nathan grinned, making Aura’s insides melt to slush. “It’s not as bad as it looks, just that the fool doctors insist that I keep this on for a couple more days.”
“Well, if that’s what they say, then that’s what’s going to happen.” Mum patted his arm comfortingly. “Now, let’s get you inside and out of this cold, and I’ll make you breakfast. I dare say you must have left London around four in the morning to make it here for eight.”
He grinned again. “Luckily the helicopter is quicker than that.”
“I’ll bring Mr Travers’ bags in, shall I ma’am?” The chauffeur asked from behind them.
Aura snapped out of her trance. “I’ll help you.”
She moved forward, edging past Nathan as Mum guided him up the walkway to the front door.
“Aura.” He paused, toe to toe with her.
“Nathan,” she mumbled. She came to just below his shoulder and had to tip her head back to look up at him. She soaked in the warm energy flowing from him, guiltily filling her lungs with his oh-so-familiar scent—sandalwood and musk mixed with something uniquely Nathan. It had been the same for as long as she could remember, and it sent sharp bolts of desire racing through her every time.
His lips thinned and he turned to follow Mum towards the house. Heat flooded her face at the desperate picture she must have made, standing there inhaling him in. Thank god he hadn’t seen that.
She plodded on to help the chauffeur with the two bags he’d pulled out of the car’s trunk. He passed her a thick, black leather briefcase before hefting the larger, tan duffle bag himself.
The briefcase was heavy, and she rolled her eyes, willing to bet Nathan had a state-of-the-art laptop stashed away in there. Typical Nathan, he was going to bury himself in work while he was here, blind or not.
* * *
Aura slouched in a chair in the kitchen, her chin on her hands, elbows on the tabletop, and sullenly watched her mother cook bacon. They’d guided Nathan up to the spare bedroom ten minutes ago. He’d closed the door after him, and they hadn’t heard anything since.
Mum flitted from the stove to the fridge. “I’ll make eggs too. He’s bound to be hungry, don’t you think?”
“Probably.”
“Do we have any orange juice?” Mum asked, her head in the fridge. “Isn’t that what they serve as part of breakfast at those posh hotels?”
Aura sat up and scowled. “We’re not a hotel, Mum. I’m sure he’ll eat whatever you make. Why are you always so nervous when he’s around?”
“Well, goodness…” Mum closed the fridge door and looked at her. “It’s been so long, and I remember how he always used to hate staying here. He only came those odd weekends from university because Ralph insisted.”
And the memory of the very last time he’d stayed at their house had Aura grimacing. She’d been all of sixteen and excited the whole week because Nathan was coming for the weekend. And on that Friday, she’d worn one of the skirts she’d created—a disastrously short thing that had been nothing more than four strips of purple and pink material sewn together.
Nathan had taken one look at her and glowered, his face turning brick red. He’d barely spoken to any of them throughout a very awkward dinner, and then after a loud argument with Ralph, had shut himself in his room.
Saturday morning, he’d stomped out of the house early and then turned up in the evening with a giggly blonde on his arm who couldn’t keep her hands off him, and Aura’s teenage heart had been well and truly crushed. He hadn’t even stayed the night, leaving for London instead with his new girlfriend.
Her lips firmed with determination. This time would be different. He was here, but so what? Their first meeting was over and she was feeling tons better. And really, neither she nor her mother needed to go out of their way to pander to him. “Mum, it’s fine. Don’t fuss. He’ll have to make do with things as they are here.”
“Aura, that’s so unlike you. You saw the state he’s in. He needs our help. We’re his family.”
“What about his mother? Wasn’t he always holding her up as the ideal of womanhood and throwing it in Ralph’s face? Why doesn’t he go and recuperate at her home in Italy?”
Mum huffed. “That woman! I’m sorry to say it, but Ralph can’t hear it anymore, so it won’t upset him, but any female who abandons her child and runs off with a conman doesn’t deserve to call herself a mother.” She frowned. “Nathan was young when all this happened, and so were you. He was hurting then, and it would be unfair to let the past cloud our present. I know you’ve always been a little uncomfortable around him, but he needs us right now, so please, love, try.”
Aura glanced down at her fluffy pink slippers. She hadn’t always been uncomfortable around him. When Mum married Ralph, her ten-year-old self had looked up in awe at the tall, sixteen-year-old boy Nathan had been and thrilled at the prospect of getting such an awe-inspiring elder brother. But it hadn’t turned out quite like that. She could have been mud under his shoes for all the attention he’d given her. Then as the years passed, and her attraction to him blossomed, he’d begun to notice her all right, but only to glare at her like she polluted his line of vision with her very presence.
She closed her eyes for a moment. Mum was right. She was letting the past rule the present. She’d promised herself she’d get over these childish feelings for him. What better way to do that than to treat him like she would any other guest in their home?
Opening her eyes, she stood up. “I’ll go see if he needs any help.”
* * *
Nathan fumbled along the top of the duffle bag, which had been left on an armchair near the bed. His searching fingers found the zip and he yanked it open. It was filled to the brim with clothes. Mrs Douglas had been busy and efficient as usual.
He felt around in the fabric pile, identifying things by texture: folded shirts with their rows of buttons, the smooth material and belt loops of his trousers. His housekeeper may well have packed his entire wardrobe in there, but what he was searching for was nowhere to be found.
“Dammit.”
He pulled individual items of clothing out, felt them, and then flung them in the direction of the bed behind him.
Nothing.
He straightened, raising an impatient hand to the bandage covering his eyes. All he had to do was rip the damn thing off. His eyes were fine. Hadn’t that doctor he’d seen in London last night confirmed it? Then why the hell was he still wearing this?
But he still had headaches, and sometimes they struck with unbearable ferocity. He dropped his hand. He had no choice but to make sure he recovered properly before that meeting.
Feeling his way to the edge of the bed, he shoved strewn clothes aside and flumped down on the duvet.
Damn, everything had happened at breakneck speed.
The room he was in now was the spare room, the one he’d always stayed in when he was here, and in a strange way still thought of as his. It was the same size as the main bedroom that had been his father’s and Cathy’s, and from the feel of things the double bed seemed to be in the same place. Did it still look the same after all these years? Aura must still have the small single room on the other side of his. He’d lain in this bed many a night, his body painfully aware she was sleeping right next door.
He grimaced. His name on her lips earlier had sent rockets of desire shooting through him, and when she’d come close… it was like coming home, and he wanted more.
Need stirred deep in him and hardened beneath the wool of his suit trousers. He groaned. Hell, the sooner he worked this craziness out of his system, the better.
Clenching his jaw, he stood up. He’d better get a move on and change into something more appropriate. Cathy would be expecting him downstairs. He reached blindly towards the jumble of clothes on the bed.
A knock sounded on the bedroom door.
Aura hesitated outside the closed door of the spare bedroom. No, Nathan’s room. She’d always thought of it as his room. It was the reason she’d never swapped her own tiny bedroom for this one that had more space. Perhaps she’d always hoped he’d return one day.
She raised her hand to knock, then pulled back.
Okay, get a grip. It’s just Nathan, not one of heaven’s archangels. She wasn’t a star-struck teenager anymore. She was a young woman with a promising love life of her own, thank you very much.
Gritting her teeth, she rapped on the door.
“Come in.” His deep voice came from inside the room.
Steeling herself, she pushed the door open and walked into what looked like a clothes bomb explosion. Half-unfolded dress shirts were strewn all over the bed in blues, blacks, and whites. Pairs of dark trousers punctuated the mess, joined by brighter spots of colour that were t-shirts, and the denim blues of several pairs of jeans peeked out from beneath it all.
Wow, that was a lot of clothes. Was he planning on staying a while? Her heart leaped with hope and she quickly stamped it down. What did it matter to her how long he stayed?
He’d turned in her direction, a slight frown on his face as he waited.
Oh, of course. He wouldn’t know whether it was her or her mother who’d just walked in.
She cleared her throat. “Um… Do you need any help, Nathan?” Her gaze flicked to the mess on the bed again.
“I’m fine. I’ll be down in a minute.” His tone was dismissive, and raking a hand through his
dark hair, he turned back to the bed to fumble among the clothes.
She scowled. For heaven’s sake, how did he expect to find anything in that mess? Even with her eyes open, she’d have a hard time rummaging out anything specific in it. But she bit her lip as he scrabbled about in increasing frustration. Why did he have to be this damn proud? Too proud to ask for help.
Going to the bed, she picked up a dress shirt and expertly folded it in a few moves before placing it on one corner of the bed. The material was finely woven black cotton, the buttons mother-of-pearl, and the stitching detail declared it was hand tailored. Expensive stuff.
She reached for another dress shirt and her hand brushed against his. He stilled, then clumsily grabbed her hand to stop her. She gasped as electric awareness shot through her, a small taste of what she’d felt when he’d kissed her at the wedding. He snatched his hand back as if he’d been burned and she stared at him. Had he felt it too? But his expression was impassive, unreadable.
Rubbing her hand, she took a step back from him, awareness making her words come out sharper than she intended. “Which clothes are you looking for?”
“Jeans and a t-shirt.”
Grabbing the nearest pair of jeans, she pushed it into his hand, but paused as she reached for a wine-red t-shirt. “What colour t-shirt?”
“Hell if I care.”
She seized the red t-shirt and dumped it on top of the jeans in his hand.
He turned and dropping the lot on top of the duffel bag in the armchair, shrugged off his suit jacket.
She frowned at the mess on the bed, her hands itching to tidy up, but as she glanced back at him, he flung the jacket to add to the heap and then reached for his shirt buttons. The muscles of his arms bunched beneath the dark blue cotton of his shirt and she flicked her tongue over her lips. Nathan had always worked out, a habit that had made him bigger than other boys even as a teenager. He had the body of a Greek god. She’d caught a glimpse of it once, years ago, when he’d strolled out of the bathroom with nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips, and from the built look of him now, he’d filled out even more over the years.
