The Man Ban

by Nicola Marsh

  But all he could think about as he toweled off and got dressed was how fast they could eat the gourmet picnic he’d ordered before making it back to the hotel.

  If they made it out of the foyer, that is.

  27

  Harper’s phone call with Manny had left her hot and bothered, so after showering, dressing, and having a croissant and coffee brought to her room, she did the one thing guaranteed to take her mind off the hot doc until their date.

  She Skyped her mom.

  No surprise that when Lydia Ryland’s face appeared on the screen, her mom was perfectly made-up, from her poppy-red lips to her mascaraed lashes, her sleek blond bob shiny beneath the lights in the dining room of her childhood home. Having a hairdresser for a mom had been fantastic growing up and her friends at school would often pop around so Lydia could fix their hair too. Those had been good times, their house filled with laughter and the smell of hair spray, and when her dad invariably came home with pizza for the lot of them, Harper had thought herself the luckiest girl in the world.

  These days, not so much. Her parents were bugging the crap out of her, her diagnosis required ongoing treatment, and while she’d nailed this Storr job, she could be back to watching cents if no other work came of it.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Trust her mom to take one look at her and figure she was in a funk.

  “Nothing, Mom, just tired after finishing this big job.”

  Lydia leaned closer to the screen, as if trying to peer through it and figure out if Harper had lied or not. “How did it go?”

  “Good. I met Jock McKell.”

  Lydia’s eyes widened. “No way.”

  “I know, surreal, right?”

  Lydia fanned her face. “Is he as hot in person as he is on TV?”

  Harper could think of other words to describe Jock—creep, sleaze, jerk—but she settled for, “He’s very dynamic, and his food is superb.”

  “You got to taste it?”

  She nodded. “I always get to eat after a shoot is finished.” She wanted to add, You know that, but her mom had lost interest in her job a while ago, around the time Lydia had dumped Alec and started focusing on herself.

  “It all sounds very glamorous, flying to New Zealand, staying in the new Storr Hotels, meeting Jock McKell.” Lydia let out a soft, wistful sigh. “My biggest claim to fame is doing a fancy updo for a third cousin twice removed of the lead singer from Human Nature.”

  Harper laughed. “You’re making that up.”

  “What gave it away? The convoluted family tree?” Lydia smiled, alleviating some of the tension bracketing her mom’s mouth.

  “My job’s not that glamorous, Mom. It’s mostly a lot of hard work, long hours standing on my feet and stressing over whether a dish is perfect.”

  “I miss running the salon,” Lydia blurted, crimson flushing her cheeks.

  Surprised by her mom’s admission, it was Harper’s turn to lean closer to the screen. She vaguely remembered her mom working when she was younger, but she didn’t know she’d run a salon, let alone heard her lament the loss of it.

  “Did you own a salon?”

  Lydia nodded, biting down on her bottom lip. “Your father helped me purchase it before you were born. I ran it for about five years before you came along, then I sold it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because your father’s business was struggling, I was taking time off for maternity leave, and we could barely make mortgage payments.” She sounded bitter, and her lips thinned. “I thought about going back to hairdressing when you were older, but it never seemed like the right time.”

  Stunned by her mom’s admissions, Harper said, “You could go back to it now?”

  Lydia snorted. “Who’d want to hire a sixty-year-old hairdresser who hasn’t worked in three decades?”

  “It’s never too late to upskill, Mom, and if it’s something you really want, why not give it a go?”

  Lydia’s eyes flashed fire. “What I want is for your father to—” She stopped abruptly, the color in her cheeks deepening. “Never mind. Was there any specific reason you called?”

  Harper wanted to ask what that outburst about her dad meant. What did her mom want from her dad? But she’d learned early on during their separation that asking questions led to answers she’d rather not hear.

  “I just wanted to check in and see how you are, Mom, that’s all.”

  “I’m fine, don’t worry about me and my ramblings.” She waved away her concern. “When are you back?”

  “In a few days.” Days filled with Manny, naked, if she had her way. “I’ll call you then.”

  “Okay.” Lydia hesitated, and Harper willed her to open up, to tell her what the hell had happened between her parents to shatter their perfect marriage, to trust her.

  Lydia had always been Harper’s closest confidante and she’d cherished their mother-daughter relationship. But her mom had steadily withdrawn over the last year and nothing Harper said or did could change that.

  But she tried one last time, because they were an ocean apart and she wanted to reassure her mom. “You know you can talk to me anytime, about anything?”

  Lydia nodded, and Harper didn’t know if it was the reflection of light on the screen or the angle of her mom’s laptop, but she caught the shimmer of tears in Lydia’s eyes.

  “Talk soon.” Lydia blew her a kiss and shut the call down, leaving Harper torn.

  She’d got what she wished for, a distraction from her constant thoughts about Manny. But at what cost? There was something going on with her mom and when she got home she’d find out what it was. She was done being the diligent daughter, staying out of her parents’ business because she didn’t want to make things worse than they already were.

  Her dad still wasn’t coping well, and her mom may appear poised on the outside but her eyes hid a multitude of secrets.

  She’d definitely deal with them back in Melbourne.

  But for now, she had a date with a deliciously addictive doc to look forward to.

  28

  As Harper strolled across the foyer toward him, Manny hoped he didn’t look like one of those cartoon characters with his eyes bulging out and his tongue lolling to the floor.

  There was nothing out of the ordinary with her paisley top, denim capris, and sparkly flip-flops, but the woman wearing the outfit made it exceptional.

  She wore her hair down, flowing past her shoulders in tousled waves. Beyond sexy. She’d worn it up while working and he preferred this laid-back look. Her makeup was flawless as usual, and while he appreciated the effort, he couldn’t wait to see her first thing in the morning, completely natural.

  “Ready to be wined and dined?” He held out his hand as she got nearer and did a funny little bow.

  “I’ve been looking forward to it all day.”

  She placed her hand in his and he raised it to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss on the back of it that made color rush to her cheeks.

  “You look beautiful.”

  “This old thing?” She shrugged like his compliment meant little, but she beamed as her gaze swept him from head to foot. “You don’t look too shabby yourself.”

  “High praise indeed.”

  He’d gone for a polo and denim. The jeans were a necessity if he couldn’t keep his hands off her and he had a repeat of his inopportune boner on the walk earlier. “Shall we go?”

  “We should, because if we don’t leave this hotel right this very minute, I don’t think we’ll make it to the picnic at all.”

  His eyebrows rose at her bluntness. “So that phone call this morning affected you too, huh?”

  “You have no idea.” She winked. “How desperate to eat are you?”

  Extremely desperate—to devour her. But he didn’t want their time together to end up like all his previous encount
ers with women—brief, fleeting, and meaningless. He liked her too much for that, and she deserved a proper date at the least.

  “I’m ravenous for you, but we’ll need our strength, so food first, feasting on each other later?”

  “Oh boy,” she muttered, heat creeping into her cheeks. “Lucky you’re a doctor, because I’ll probably expire from combustion before then.”

  He ducked down to nip her ear. “Glad to know you’re so hot for me.”

  “You have no idea.” She turned her head quickly, sneaking a quick kiss that left him hankering for more.

  With a glance over his shoulder to make sure they weren’t being observed, he backed her into an alcove, hauled her into his arms, and plastered his lips to hers.

  She moaned a little, opening her mouth, and damned if he didn’t want to take her here and now. Her tongue tangled with his, hot and sinuous, and he throbbed with wanting her.

  Her fingers tunneled through his hair, tugging, until his scalp tingled. He pressed against her, exactly where he wanted to be as she writhed and whimpered a little. So hot . . . screw the picnic . . .

  He wrenched his mouth from hers, his ragged breathing matching hers. “Fuck, I can’t get enough of you,” he muttered, giving a shake of his head. Yeah, like that would clear it.

  “We should go upstairs—”

  “No. Picnic first,” he muttered, knowing he’d regret this for the next few hours when he sat through the torturous process of putting food into her mouth while battling a distinct case of blue balls. “You deserve to be treated right.”

  Confusion clouded her eyes. “I want you, Manny. I don’t need all the fancy trappings.”

  “This isn’t a fancy date, it’s low-key, and I want to spend some quality time with you.”

  The confusion cleared, replaced by amusement. “You sure you’re not a woman trapped in a man’s body?”

  “Come on,” he said, grabbing her hand. “Besides, the faster we eat, the faster you get to discover that my body is definitely all man.”

  She fell into step without having to be asked again.

  * * *

  • • •

  “You did good, Manish Gomes.” Harper raised a plastic champagne flute. “To the most romantic date I’ve ever had.”

  “To the most beautiful woman I’ve ever dated.” He tapped his flute against hers before taking a sip. Champagne wasn’t his drink of choice but he thought she’d like it, and he’d bought the most expensive bottle in the small liquor store.

  “You don’t have to lay it on too thick,” she said, with a smile. “I bet you’ve cut a swath through Melbourne and beyond.”

  “I’ve dated a lot, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “I know it’s none of my business, but you’re gorgeous, you’re a doctor, you’re half-Indian, and that means your gran is probably pushing you to get hitched. So why are you still single at forty?”

  “Eat your quince paste and Camembert,” he said, shoving a cracker into her hand.

  “All the food in the world isn’t going to distract me.” She popped the cracker into her mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “If you don’t answer me, I’ll be forced to come up with a few answers of my own.”

  “Such as?”

  “You’re lousy in bed.”

  He almost choked on the grape he’d eaten. “That’s not the reason.”

  “How would you know? Maybe those countless women you’ve dated haven’t wanted to post online reviews?” She giggled, and the sound shot straight to his heart. “Or maybe they did and the news spread, hence your single status.”

  He mock growled. “Keep this up and you won’t get to discover the Manny magic for yourself.”

  She burst out laughing. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

  “Neither can I.” Sheepish, he swiped a hand over his face. “Your fault. You completely discombobulate me.”

  “Discom what?”

  “Bamboozle. Confuse. Drive me crazy—”

  “I know what discombobulate means, but it’s fun to watch you squirm.”

  “Bet I can make you squirm in a completely different way . . .” He touched her cheek, tracing the curve of it with a fingertip, along her jaw, and lower, to where her pulse beat crazily in her neck.

  “You’ve made your point,” she murmured, her breath hitching. “And if you’re so keen for me to give you a review, we better hurry up and eat this feast.”

  He laughed and lowered his hand, not surprised to find it shaking a tad. She had that effect on him, and anytime he touched her he wanted more.

  “So you like the food?”

  “It’s fantastic.” She smacked her lips as she scooped up a dollop of beetroot dip on a gourmet cracker. “And the view isn’t bad either.”

  She stared out over the lake, its still surface reflecting the stunning mauve, indigo, and pink sky as the sun set. He’d stumbled across this spot while driving earlier today, a small, secluded sandy beach with a vista to the town and beyond. A jetty jutted out into the lake and was probably used by locals in dinghies, but for now they had the place to themselves.

  “This is surreal . . .” She gave a little shake of her head. “I haven’t dated in a long time, and when I came to New Zealand to work, never in a million years did I dream I’d be sitting here with you.”

  “Would you have responded to my text back in Australia if we hadn’t run into each other?”

  She shrugged. “Honestly? I’m not sure.”

  “Ouch. Consider my ego wounded.”

  “I’m pretty sure your ego will survive.” She turned away from the lake to glance at him. “You certainly made a lasting impression the first time we met.”

  “As did you.” He made a grand show of moving the lemon meringue pie aside. “Just in case you get any ideas of topping that whipped cream effort with meringue.”

  She laughed, causing several birds getting ready to bed down for the night to take flight from a nearby tree. “After the way you’ve helped me the last few days, you’re in no danger of bearing the brunt of my wrath again.”

  He swiped at his forehead. “Phew.”

  “But you are in danger.”

  “How so?”

  In response, she cleared the artichoke and ricotta tart, the pumpkin and goat’s curd mini quiches, and the mushroom frittata, and crawled toward him on the rug.

  “Scared yet?”

  “Should I be?”

  “Yeah, because you’re in danger of being leaped upon by a woman who hasn’t had sex in over a year.”

  Stunned, he opened his mouth to respond, but she pressed a finger to his lips. “You don’t need to say anything. But you do need to prove to me you’ve been worth the wait.”

  In a second he had her flipped and lying on her back, his body covering hers.

  “You know we’re in a public place, right?”

  He gritted his teeth against the urge to ravish her all the same. “How fast can we pack up this picnic?”

  “You’ve seen me dismantle my displays after styling the food. Either eat everything or throw it all into containers.”

  “Containers it is,” he said, brushing his lips across hers once, twice, teasing her, driving himself nuts in the process, before straightening and offering a hand to help her sit up. “Besides, when you discover my prowess, you’re going to be very hungry afterward.”

  “Promises, promises.” Her eyes twinkled, and unable to stop himself he captured her chin and kissed her again. Slower this time. Nipping her bottom lip. Sucking on it. Sweeping his tongue along it to soothe and tantalize.

  She moaned, and he knew he had to stop before he lost his mind.

  Oddly shy, they didn’t look at each other as they packed the picnic away in record time. Anticipation thrummed in his veins as he wondered when the last time was that everyth
ing a woman said or did seemed like extended foreplay.

  He couldn’t remember, which meant Harper had snuck under his guard when he least expected it. It could be the surroundings and the rare feeling of being on vacation. What happened in New Zealand stayed in New Zealand, that kind of thing. But he knew it was more, and he was kidding himself if he thought he could walk away from her when they got back to Melbourne.

  Which meant he’d have to break the news to Izzy.

  Hoisting the picnic basket into his arms, he asked, “Ready?”

  “And raring to go.”

  She winked as she shook out the rug and folded it, joining him in a half sprint to the car.

  Manny had never been so grateful for a small town, meaning they arrived back at the hotel in five minutes and were standing in the foyer with the picnic basket between them in six.

  “Let’s go to my room—”

  “No!” Harper blushed and said, “Sorry, I’d prefer my room. I’m fussy about beds when I sleep.”

  He didn’t point out they wouldn’t be doing much sleeping. But this wasn’t the time to nitpick. He wanted this woman, any room, anytime.

  “Let’s go to your room then.”

  Her shoulders slumped in relief. “Sounds like a plan.”

  They rode the elevator in silence, and when the doors slid open he wondered what had really made her so tense. Was she having second thoughts? If so, he’d make it easy for her, no matter how much he’d been looking forward to this night.

  As they stopped outside her room, he said, “If you’re too tired, it’s okay. We can do this another time and—”

  “I want this,” she murmured, eyeballing him, the depth of her desire ratcheting up his. “I want you.”

  “Okay.” He exhaled a shaky breath as she slid her key card through the lock.

  The green light blinked the first time, and as she pushed open the door he knew stepping over the threshold would take him into new territory.