‘Mmm. Nice tired.’
‘Thank you for coming with me tonight.’
She was sinking into a haze of wanting something beyond her reach, so her weary brain must be imagining the emotion in his voice.
She woke at the gentle shaking of her shoulder, the husky sound of her name and hot breath tickling her earlobe. His features were as enticing blurred as they were when sharp and clear. And close enough to share a...
Her head jerked up, she blinked and her vision cleared—by which time he’d moved away.
Unbuckling her seat belt, she slid out and focussed.
‘It’s been quite a day. Thank you, Nate. I had a great time in town, and I like your friends.’
‘The feeling was mutual. I’ve got your spoils from the trip.’
He held up both hands, clasping the labelled bags she decided she’d unpack in the morning.
‘You go straight to bed. I’ll see to Milly and meet you in the pool in the morning.’
* * *
Nate never bothered with lights on his way to bed, liking the peaceful aura of familiarity in the dark. Tonight, he paused outside Jemma’s door, picturing her asleep. Did she curl into a ball, cuddle up to a pillow, or lie on her back? Whichever, her long silken hair would be splayed around her head, as he’d imagined before, and his fingers itched to thread their way through its strands.
She’s a romantic lady. A true-love-for-ever lady. Be smart, Thornton, don’t get involved.
But that didn’t stop him having fantasies of her wearing whatever was in those five bags he’d carried in from the back of his SUV as he tossed and turned.
* * *
Whether it was yesterday’s outing, dinner with Nate’s friends or that morning’s vigorous swim, something had energised Jemma. She set herself up on the veranda and lost herself in the intricacies of Nate’s story. Breaks were taken at scene or chapter endings, and she found it easy to pick up the action on her return. It was enthralling.
She’d read the full manuscript again, and had reservations on his viewpoint over three of the relationship scenes. She debated whether to list and discuss them now, or deal with them as they were reached. Opting for the latter, she reasoned it would be clearer if the amendments had been done up to each point to be discussed.
Nate had settled inside, occasionally strolling round the house talking on the phone. On a quick trip to town he’d picked up newspapers, magazines and hamburger lunches. Neither of them had lingered over the meal, eager to get back to their individual pursuits.
The bubble burst mid-afternoon. She stared across the gully and huffed out a breath, her stomach churning. This encounter really didn’t read true, and Nate wasn’t going to like being told he’d got it so wrong. He’d accepted her critiquing and adaptations up to this point, though not without intense discussion. But this was major—a disagreement over his characterisation.
She reread his description of the moment his hero hitched a ride heading back to the capital. Going over it twice, even out loud, didn’t alter her judgement. She’d promised him honesty, so that was what she’d have to deliver.
With a tight grip on the highlighted original, plus her revisions, she went inside, finding him sprawled in the lounge reading the financial news. A warm glow flared in his eyes and regret raked through her, anticipating their hardening at this criticism.
‘Ready for a break...? Jemma, what’s wrong?’ He sat up, swinging his feet to the floor.
Her fingers tightened on the papers, and she struggled to swallow past her dry throat.
‘This scene...their scene in her flat...’
His eyes darkened and narrowed, and the rest came out in a rush.
‘It’s wrong. He wouldn’t cave in like that. Not him.’
Nate rose to his feet, fingers splayed at his sides, his chest puffed out. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’
‘He grabs her arm as they argue, she slams her hand on his shoulder and he backs away. Wouldn’t happen, Nate. Not—’
He cut in, exasperation making the rough edge in his voice hoarser. ‘It happened before, in an earlier encounter, and you left it in. What’s the difference?’
‘Them.’
What kind of relationships did Nate have if he couldn’t understand that continuing involvement meant more freedom of temperament—especially in tense or emotional situations?
‘Think about it, Nate. He tried the he-man heavy tactics at their second meeting and she slapped him away. He backed off, as any decent man would. Right?’
Nate nodded with obvious reluctance, muscles tense.
‘They’ve met quite a few times since, and had disagreements, but they can’t stay away from each other. He’s wound up after a traumatic night patrol, can’t get her out of his mind, and he hitches a ride to her—not sure what to expect, but hoping she’ll be eager to see him. She’s not. Imagine how frustrated he’d be, knowing he only has limited time before reporting back.’
She could see Nate absorbing what she’d said, and instinctively moved closer.
‘He’d take hold of her arm, probably more roughly than he intended, needing her to understand.’
Nate wrapped his fingers round her upper left arm, as if caught up in her narrative, drawing her body to his and causing her fingers to tighten on the printed sheets of paper. She struck his left shoulder, and in an instant play-acting ceased.
She was hauled against him and kissed with an ardency that scattered every coherent thought in her head. The papers fell from her hand as he released her arm, wrapping his arms around her and crushing their bodies together. Her fingers gripped his shoulders, then slid across his neck and into his thick, surprisingly soft hair.
Heat flowed through her veins as his heart pounded against her chest, and hers beat with a similar erratic rhythm. She answered the pressure of his lips with a passion that shook her to her core. Frightening. Exhilarating.
There was no day, no night—only this instance in time. And his low masculine growl mingling with her soft mews.
With a harsh gasp he broke the kiss and rested his cheek on her hair. Fighting for breath, she let her head fall to his shoulder, unable to speak, afraid that any words would diminish the moment.
‘Jemma...’ Her name had never sounded so special, so ethereal. So unique.
She looked up into dazed storm-grey eyes that mirrored her own bewilderment. The trembling of his fingers on her cheek and his rapid breathing were comforting—tangible indications that he was emotionally shaken too.
He kissed her forehead and eased away, holding her arms with a tenderness that allayed any feeling of loss. He swallowed, blew out air and then breathed in again, making a part-laugh, part-groan sound.
‘Hell, that was... Jemma, I... I guess I just proved you were right.’ He looked away, then into her eyes again, and gave her a wry smile. ‘Let’s go for a walk.’
She’d barely regained her composure and he’d shaken it again. Those last words were not what she’d expected to hear, yet they were entirely understandable.
A walk. Fresh air and open space. Room to think and process this—for her—emotionally traumatic happening. Room to recover from her tumultuous reaction to his touch and his kiss. Beyond that, she didn’t dare anticipate.
‘Yes. Let’s.’
* * *
At first Nate fought the desire to lessen the gap between them as they walked, to take her hand and intertwine their fingers. He caved in before they reached the track through the trees, and the tight knot in his gut eased when she didn’t resist.
His body hummed from the exhilaration of having her in his arms and that incredible kiss, like none he’d ever known. He’d been a hair’s breadth from losing control, from sweeping her up and...
Don’t go there.
For that blissful moment they’d been in tune—as one. He’d never believed it
possible, deeming it a fantasy of fiction. Somehow he had to regain normality—though he feared he couldn’t backtrack over the line he’d crossed. He had no idea how to explain his actions, and knew there was no way he could promise not to kiss her again. Hell, given the slightest encouragement he’d kiss her right now, and was well aware from her ardent response that she’d willingly kiss him back.
Or was she regretting her uninhibited reaction?
They had to set guidelines. He had to ensure she understood there’d be no rosy future, no wedding bells or settling down. For ten years he’d chosen women who accepted his terms and didn’t ask for explanations. Jemma was different—she deserved the truth. Because it was he who’d broken the rules.
There was no pressure to begin a conversation, no urgency to bare his soul. He let himself live in the moment, surrounded by the sounds and smells of the bush and with Jemma’s soothing presence by his side. She’d been as affected as he by their shared kiss, yet she now appeared calm. The tranquillity of this mountain area was once again weaving its magic.
He stopped by a group of gum trees, part of one split by lightning, leaning at an angle, its bare branches wedged solid in another. It had been like that for nearly two years, and he often leant against it while he took a break while running.
The undergrowth crunched beneath their feet as he led her over, let go of her hand and leant his back and elbows against the rough wood, its bark stripped away by the elements. Jemma stood on the down-sloping side, taking in the view, giving him the lead without pressure.
Staring straight ahead, he kept his voice level and radio-broadcaster-neutral.
‘I’m assuming the reason for your move to Hahndorf was the result of a break-up? You’d have been twenty-five?’
She made no movement he could sense, and no sound, so he continued.
‘When I’d just turned twenty-one, and had been requested to send in more reports for publishing, I thought I knew it all and could handle anything life threw at me. In truth I was so bloody green. I was an easy target for a woman whose only real interest was my family’s money. I had a...a life-changing experience a few days after meeting her, and when she found me blind drunk in the bar of my hotel she was supportive and comforting. I was needy, immature and stupid.’
‘Human—like us all.’
Looking sideways, he saw no condemnation in her eyes, only sympathy and understanding. Thankfully she didn’t press for the details he’d buried with his shame. He turned towards her, fisting his fingers to prevent himself reaching out for contact. If she couldn’t accept his proposition there’d be no touching, no kissing. No making love.
‘I have my grandfather to thank for teaching me to always verify what I’m told, though I almost left it too late. Being fooled by her forced me to evaluate my future, who I really was. I stayed overseas, hopefully became wiser, and my perception of people and life altered. I know it’s rarely black or white, more a murky shade of grey. I have family, who I love deeply, and friends I’d give my life for. Beyond them are colleagues and acquaintances I treat with courtesy but hold at a certain distance. I live a solitary life, and I intend to keep it that way.’
‘For as long as you live?’
‘Yes.’
Though he wasn’t keen on her choice of wedding ceremony words, it meant she understood his resolve.
‘And now? Are you involved with anyone?’
‘If I was I wouldn’t have kissed you, no matter how strong the temptation.’
* * *
Jemma heard the growl in his voice and sensed his resentment of her implication. Either the damage from that deception ran deeper than her own ex’s betrayal, or there had been other disloyalties in his life.
Now was not the time to tell him or show him how mind-blowingly incredible his kiss had been. How it had felt as if they’d been alone in the universe and how she ached for more. Whatever the future held, that memory would be enhancing and uplifting.
She moved in front of him, placed her hands on his chest and looked him straight in the eyes. He didn’t blink, and held eye contact warily.
There’d be no shared expectations of a happy home with children playing in the garden. There’d be no cheating, lying or broken hearts. Her only remorse would come if she declined what he was offering and never experienced the full pleasure of the passion he’d shown in that kiss.
‘I want you to make love to me, Nate Thornton. No promises of for ever, no lies, no regrets.’
She went up on tiptoe, pressed her lips to his, and with a deep guttural groan he swept her into his arms. His hands caressed from her shoulders to her hips. Her hands wrapped around his neck, holding him to her, her sigh catching in her throat.
Her pulse shot into overdrive as he pressed her body tight to his. She trembled when he kissed a trail across her neck to her lips. He teased them with the tip of his tongue and they parted, allowing him entry to caress and savour until her head spun and there was nothing in her world but him.
Time had no meaning until the need for air broke them apart. He cradled her head to his chest, brushing his lips over her forehead, his rasping breath stirring her hair. Though there was no gap between them she wriggled to get closer and he groaned again, this time even more roughly.
‘Jemma, darling, there’s a limit for every man, and I’ve just about reached mine.’ He cradled her face in his hands and gave her a quick tender kiss. ‘Let’s go home.’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
JEMMA STIRRED, HER muscles languid and unwilling to move, and snuggled into the warm muscular body alongside hers, her head pillowed on a mat of thick, wiry chest hair. The slightest shift might shatter her dream, and this euphoria could be nothing else.
Gentle lips caressed her forehead and soothing fingers roamed her back. This was reality—and more spine-tingling, toe-curling and floating-to-the-moon wonderful than any dream ever. Cosseted and treasured, she wanted to stay right there, forget the past and let the future take care of itself.
‘Jemma...’
She burrowed deeper against him, tightening her hold around his waist, loving the sensual touch of his skin against hers, loving the heady combination of musk, citrus, vanilla and him teasing her every breath.
His throaty chuckle reverberated through her, startling her into opening her eyes. Pushing up onto one arm, he stroked her cheek, gazing down at her with such a tender expression it melted her heart.
‘For a supposedly good author, I’m stuck for words.’ He kissed her with soft reverence. ‘I’ve never...’ He stopped and looked away, as if uncomfortable with the words forming in his head.
She understood. How could she not when her mind was blank too—and she’d never had problems describing passionate encounters?
‘Nate, I understand.’
He grinned, and brushed his thumb across her mouth ‘I guess we have to write a new love scene, huh?’
‘Mmm...’ Falling asleep in his arms was her preferred option, but... ‘So, working instead of TV tonight?’
‘We should.’ He bent and blew gently in her ear, laughing as she quivered. ‘Would he do that?’
‘Not him.’ She ran her fingernails over his chest, loving the way he sucked in air at her touch.
‘How about this?’ He nibbled her neck and she wriggled.
‘You should know. You created him.’
‘Hey, I penned a fighter, not a lover.’ He pulled her tighter against him and she didn’t resist. ‘You’re the one who claims he’d want intimacy after sex. I visualised him getting up and leaving once the deed was done.’
He twirled strands of her hair around his fingers and dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose.
‘But now I figure he’d stay longer. For this.’
He covered her mouth with his, soft at first, then hotter and harder.
She caressed a path up his chest and a
round his neck, anchoring his head. He parted her lips, allowing him to deepen the kiss as he pressed her into the large, firm mattress.
They’d be in complete agreement over his hero’s next action.
* * *
Nate had never had trouble with after-sex talk, the non-emotional aspect of his encounters ensuring there were no expectations of romantic platitudes like those in the book Alice had given him and in Jemma’s novel.
Today he’d found himself fighting not to say them, biting them back as quickly as they arose. Telling her how special making love to her had been, that she was different from the others, didn’t seem right when he couldn’t promise a lifetime commitment.
She’d said no promises, no regrets. Alone in the kitchen, he was already regretting letting her go to shower in her own en suite, instead of with him, and that he hadn’t planted rose bushes in the garden so he could pick her a bouquet.
He made coffee, wishing it were champagne, and set out biscuits, wishing they were her favourite handmade chocolates—whatever brand they were. He’d have to find out, even if it meant telling her more about himself.
She hadn’t mentioned his scars, but she must have seen them even though they’d faded over the years. The jagged pale lines ran over his left hip onto his stomach, and probably wouldn’t have been noticeable in the pool. But naked on the bed...
He sucked in air as she came down the stairs, looking so fresh and beautiful she scrambled his vocabulary, leaving him with an inadequate, ‘Hi.’
Her face lit up and he was across the kitchen, taking her into his arms even before her, ‘Hi, yourself!’ left her lips.
He covered them with a long, satisfying kiss he never wanted to end. It was Jemma who eased herself from his embrace and tapped him on the chest—right over his racing heart.
‘We’re supposed to be revising a scene, Nate Thornton, not acting it out.’
The dazzling smile she gave him and the teasing note in her voice blew his mind. For a moment he imagined a lifetime of friendly teasing and laughter and rosy cheeks. Then he tamped it down. Lifetimes were for others—not him. However satisfying it was now, their relationship wouldn’t—couldn’t—last.
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