The Man Ban

by Nicola Marsh

  She could cite packing and an early checkout, but Manny was intelligent. He’d spot a bluff a mile off. Which meant she’d spend the rest of today dithering over her decision rather than enjoying her time with the sexiest man she’d encountered in a long while.

  Freaking great.

  32

  Manny thought being a doctor involved a certain amount of acting. Delivering bad news to a patient involved channeling his best poker face, standing up to a surgeon involved commanding every ounce of confidence, and breaking the news of a death to a family member required steeling his expression into one of concern while he may be crumpling inside.

  Those acting skills had come in mighty handy today.

  He hadn’t given a flying fuck that Huka Falls was the largest falls along the Waikato River, that huka was the Maori term for foam, or that 220,000 liters of river gushed through a gorge and shot over eight meters to create a beautiful green-blue pool.

  He’d faked it all right, showing interest as he held Harper’s hand during the river walk, stopping at platforms to get the best view, expressing the right amount of awe at the beauty of Wairakei Park. But all the while he was trying to figure her out.

  He’d done years of psychology as part of his undergrad degree and it meant squat, because Harper was holding out on him and he had no clue why.

  Sure, she’d said all the right things at breakfast, citing her behavior as a result of morning-after awkwardness, but he wasn’t buying it. There was something else at play and he hoped she’d open up to him when they made it back to his room soon.

  “You sure you don’t want something more substantial for dinner?”

  “Takeout pizza is fine,” she said, lifting the flat cardboard box to her nose and inhaling. “Plus it’s vegetarian, so all that goodness counteracts the cheese.”

  He parked the car in front of the hotel entrance. “You’re trying to bullshit a doctor?”

  She flashed her best innocent smile. “Is it working?”

  “Not a hope. Wait there.”

  Her eyebrows rose as he sprinted around the car to open the passenger door.

  “Such a gentleman,” she said, as he took the box out of her hands and waited until she got out before closing the door.

  “That’s not what you’ll be saying when we get to my room shortly.”

  He winked but he didn’t miss the slight falter in her step. This again? Would she make a fuss and demand he go to her room like last night?

  “As long as I get to eat first, after that I’m all yours, and you can be as ungentlemanly as you like,” she said, pinching his ass.

  Relieved they’d got past the hiccup of which room to spend the night in, they speed-walked to the elevator and eyed the numbers as they lit up all the way to his floor. Once inside his room, he laid the pizza on the small dining table tucked into the corner and spun to face her.

  “How hungry are you?”

  The knowing glint in her eyes gave him hope. “For food?”

  “No.” He advanced on her, the tension of the day winding his muscles tight, and he knew the best way to unwind. “Pizza is just as tasty hot or cold, and I’m voting for the latter.”

  He heard the hitch of her breathing as he stopped in front of her, reaching out to toy with the strap of her tank top. His thumb grazed her skin, and her eyes widened.

  “Cold is okay for me,” she murmured, giving him all the go-ahead he needed.

  After the way she’d blown his mind last night, being around her all day and not being able to slake his lust had been one long lesson in torturous foreplay, and he couldn’t wait a moment longer.

  Her frantic hands matched his as they plucked at clothes, tore them off, pushed them down. Her hands splayed across his chest as he slid a condom on, her eyes huge pools as she watched him do it. Hungry. Eager. Demanding.

  Their mouths fused as he hoisted her into his arms, palming her ass, so she had no option but to wrap her legs around his waist. He sat on the bed and she straddled him, poised over him, before she slid down exquisitely slowly. Engulfing him in liquid heat. Shrouding him. Making him cry out with the perfection of it.

  Her eyes never left his as she started to move, their bodies synced to the same rhythm, the friction driving him wild. Sweat slicked his skin as he let her set the pace, biting back the urge to grab her hips and pound into her.

  Sensing his need, she whispered, “Don’t hold back.”

  Lunging forward, he kissed her with every ounce of pent-up desire, holding her waist and thrusting upward. Over and over. Her hands groping, his anchoring, in a world turned topsy-turvy.

  Her arms caged him, but he slid a hand between their bodies and touched her clit, stroking her, savoring the slickness. She picked up speed, wrenching her mouth from his, riding him with abandon.

  He’d never seen anything so beautiful.

  Her carnal gaze made him let go, driving them closer to the brink. The tremors started, and Manny pushed her over the edge as his orgasm slammed into him with a force that made him see stars.

  When he could finally form a coherent word, he hugged Harper tight. “You are perfection.”

  She nipped his ear. “You know what else is pretty close to perfect besides me?”

  “What?”

  “Cold pizza, and I’m starving.”

  He laughed, and when she joined in he marveled that he’d finally found a woman he could be himself with, who laughed at his lame sense of humor, who got him.

  The question was, what would he do with her when he got back to Melbourne?

  33

  The moment Manny headed to the bathroom to take care of the condom, Harper sprang into action.

  She couldn’t let him see her naked, not when light from the setting sun filtered through the blinds. They’d been too caught up in the moment earlier for him to study her body. Their coupling had been hard and fast, just as she’d wanted. No time for him to see the patches on her body and ask probing questions. Not that he would. As a doctor he’d pick up on the vitiligo straightaway, and no way in hell did she want to go through the explanation of how/when/why she’d been diagnosed.

  So by the time he came out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist, she was fully dressed and brandishing a piece of pizza.

  “Sorry, couldn’t wait.”

  “You were right about being starving.” He cast a quick glance over her clothes but didn’t say anything as he pulled on his boxers and dropped the towel. “Save some for me.”

  “There’s plenty,” she said, taking a big bite to stop from blurting the truth: that she’d give anything to spend the night with him, that she wished he could see the real her, that she was grateful for the amazing time they’d spent together.

  But this had to end, the sooner the better, before she became further invested.

  Too late, her conscience cried, because the thought of walking away from this amazing man made her chest ache.

  “Hey, slow down, you’ll give yourself indigestion,” he said, as she stuffed several bites into her mouth.

  Chewing bought her a minute, demolishing the crust another, but she knew she’d have to say something eventually. She wiped her mouth with a napkin, balled it, and shot it into the trash, before raising her eyes to find him staring at her.

  He knew. He had this look, like he expected her to run.

  “What’s going on?”

  “We’re leaving tomorrow and I need to answer work e-mails and check on another job for when I return and Skype my parents and—”

  “You don’t need to make excuses.” Stone-faced, he pointed at the door. “You’re free to leave anytime.”

  His blank features, his dull monotone, and his eyebrows gathered in a frown spoke volumes. Her needing to bolt wasn’t new for him. He thought she was a flake, selfish, someone who took what she wanted and left.


  Her throat thickened, the truth lodged there. She wished she could tell him she wasn’t that person. That she’d fallen for him. That she wanted to trust him. But if anyone had learned the hard way about the pitfalls of trusting, she had.

  She wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

  “Would you believe me if I said I don’t want to leave but I have to?”

  “I don’t know what to believe anymore.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, but when he refocused on her, disapproval pinched his lips together. “Is it the sex? Because I think we’re pretty fucking great together, but every time afterward you run.”

  Hell, she didn’t want him thinking that, but he was perilously close to the truth. Would a smart guy like him put the puzzle pieces together and figure out he’d never actually seen her naked body and wonder why?

  “Sex with you is phenomenal, the best I’ve ever had.” Heat surged to her cheeks, and to some other choice places that would like nothing more than to strip and straddle him again. “But I guess I am freaking out a little. I like you a lot, but this has happened so fast, and I like my space.”

  His head tipped to the side as he studied her. “So you’re telling me all you need is time?”

  She couldn’t give him false hope, not when she knew they’d be going their separate ways in Melbourne.

  “I don’t know what I need,” she said, holding up her hand when he opened his mouth to respond. “And that’s not your fault, you haven’t done anything; it’s just me.”

  “So you’re saying what happened in Taupo stays in Taupo?”

  “Isn’t that what you want?”

  She held her breath, willing him to make this easier on the both of them. When he shook his head, she should’ve known better than to think she’d get what she wanted.

  “Usually I’d say yes, but I’m not going to pretend like the last few days have meant nothing.”

  “Of course it’s not nothing. We like each other. But we’ll be back in Melbourne soon, and we lead very different lives—”

  “Do me a favor and don’t preempt anything, okay?”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Let’s keep our options open. You can leave now, no questions asked. But we’ll be traveling back to Auckland tomorrow, with another night there before heading home, so let’s ease up on the heavy talk and go with the flow.”

  Nice in theory, but she wasn’t the grumpy one when she’d wanted to bolt a few minutes ago.

  “You can do that?”

  He nodded. “Absolutely.”

  “Okay then.” She stood, unsure whether to kiss him or flee while she had the chance.

  He took the decision out of her hands by standing too and placing a soft kiss against her lips. Her fingers ached with the urge to touch him, the fluttering in her chest indicative of either a heart condition or reluctance to leave him, and she knew it was the latter.

  “I better go.”

  She willed her legs to walk rather than run, and when she reached the door, he called out, “Just so you know, me giving you space doesn’t mean I’m giving up on us. Not by a long shot.”

  Hope flickered before she quashed it and left.

  34

  Manny had diagnosed some pretty rare conditions in his time as a doctor. Microdeletion syndrome, Feingold syndrome, and Wilson disease had all been picked up by him in patients desperately searching for answers, and he’d been lauded for it.

  So why couldn’t he get a clear read on what was bugging Harper?

  Even now, thirty minutes after she’d all but run from his room, he couldn’t figure out what had gone wrong. They’d had a fantastic time at the falls, they’d been so hot for each other they’d grabbed takeout dinner so they wouldn’t waste time getting naked, the sex had been stupendous again, then he’d gone into the bathroom and come out to find her fully dressed, perched on the edge of a chair like she couldn’t wait to leave.

  Their discussion hadn’t shed much light on the situation either. They’d gone around in circles until he’d realized nothing he said would make a difference. He didn’t want to push her into wanting more from this relationship like he did; she’d have to figure it out on her own. Yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that in letting her go so easily, he might’ve ended them before they’d begun.

  He needed to clear his head, but he didn’t fancy a jog after scoffing too much pizza. So he settled for talking to the most levelheaded person he knew.

  Melbourne was two hours behind Taupo, and Izzy would be getting ready for her daily dose of American soap operas. Not an ideal time for a chat, but he needed to do something, and having his gran regale him with mundane details like the latest sale at the local Indian spice shop would ground him.

  He hit the “call” button on his laptop and waited, relieved when Izzy’s face shimmered into view.

  “Manish, how lovely to see you,” she said, peering at the screen. “But you look tired. I thought you were supposed to be relaxing after your conference.” She tut-tutted. “You’re one of those overachievers, always on the go, unable to unwind even when you get the chance. It’s not healthy, you know.”

  He chuckled. This was exactly what he needed, a healthy dose of Izzy’s life observations.

  “Can I get a word in edgewise or do you want to lecture me some more?”

  She waggled her finger at him. “You know I only do it out of the goodness of my heart. Who’s going to care about you if your old gran doesn’t?” Her shrewd eyes narrowed. “Especially when you don’t have a wife, despite my insistence you rectify the situation stat?”

  “Stop watching those hospital dramas,” he said. “Nobody says ‘stat’ in real life.”

  The corners of her mouth tugged into a smile. “Don’t distract me. Tell me what you’ve been doing since the conference ended.”

  He couldn’t tell his gran the best part of his R&R, even though sex with Harper had definitely been the highlight.

  “I’m doing all the touristy things in Lake Taupo. Hiking, soaking in thermal pools, checking out the falls.”

  Her nose crinkled. “Sounds boring.” She tapped her lip. “Though as I recall, the last time we spoke a few days ago, I inferred there must be a woman involved in your jaunt to Lake Taupo and you didn’t correct me.”

  “You know I never kiss and tell.”

  “Yet if you don’t tell your dear old gran, how will I tell you if she’s suitable or not?”

  He refrained from pointing out he’d been choosing his own dates for a long time now. “I like her; that’s all that matters.”

  Izzy’s eyebrows shot up. “You’ve never told me you like any girl. What’s so special about this one?”

  Before he could respond, she jumped in with, “Is she Indian? Anglo-Indian?”

  He should’ve known: the million-dollar question Izzy had asked repeatedly over the years when he’d admitted to taking a date to any number of hospital functions.

  Usually, he’d fob off his grandmother. But Harper’s funk had left him strangely vulnerable. He’d wanted to be distracted by Izzy, not have her catch him at a weak time.

  “Actually, Harper was at Nishi and Arun’s wedding.”

  Izzy’s brow knit together in a formidable frown. “That Aussie girl you were panting after?”

  She made it sound like Harper had been running around the wedding naked. Which would’ve definitely had him panting, now that he’d explored every inch of her delectable body.

  “We ran into each other in Auckland. We’ve been out a few times. It’s been fun.”

  Izzy leaned close to the screen, so close he could see every wrinkle bracketing her mouth, the dark circles underscoring her eyes. He expected another of her classic, You need to marry a nice Indian or Anglo-Indian girl, preferably in the medical profession like you, a melding of the minds.

  “Fun. Yes. That’s w
hat you need after working so hard. And that’s what rest and relaxation is all about. Good, good.” She nodded in approval, but he knew what was coming. “Have your fun, Manish, but at some point in your life you’ll have to get serious, and at forty, you’re not getting any younger.”

  And there it was.

  She pressed a hand to her chest. “And I’m not getting any younger either. You know my greatest wish in life is to see you married before I die, and that could be any tick of the clock now.”

  Yeah, more classic Izzy-isms.

  Izzy adored him, and while she badgered him constantly about getting married, she never overtly pushed. Her chastisements were always done in jest, as if she believed mentioning his marital status often enough would jar him into doing something about it.

  Now it was his turn to surprise her.

  “What if I said I was serious about Harper?”

  She pursed her lips in disapproval, with a disparaging pfft sound. “You know my thoughts on this, Manish. You need a woman to complement you. A woman befitting to be a doctor’s wife. What does this woman even do?”

  “Harper is a food stylist.”

  He deliberately used her name because Izzy made “this woman” sound like a hooker.

  “A food stylist?” Izzy’s nose crinkled. “What does that even mean? Food is for eating, not styling.”

  Manny sighed, wishing he’d waited until he was in the same room as his grandmother to have this conversation. But he liked Harper, and despite her bizarre behavior he had no intention of giving up on her, so the sooner his gran wrapped her head around the possibility of him dating her, the better.

  “All those magazines you pore over, and those foodie sites online? The food is styled to look that good.”

  “Rubbish. The cooks present the food.”

  “No, the chefs prepare the food; the stylists make it look good.”