The Man Ban

by Nicola Marsh

  He had no intention of telling her he knew this firsthand. Izzy would flip if she discovered he’d been Harper’s assistant during his much-needed downtime.

  “It sounds like a made-up job,” she muttered, tut-tutting under her breath. “What do you mean you’re serious about her?”

  Damned if he knew.

  He had limited time to invest in a relationship, which is why he hadn’t done it before. Long hours at the hospital left him exhausted and with little time and energy to devote to anyone else. But Harper didn’t strike him as the demanding type. In fact, if her runaway act after the few times they’d had sex was any indication, she wasn’t likely to linger and loll around, wanting more than he could give.

  Maybe they could make this work?

  And maybe he’d be bungee jumping off the Sky Tower in Auckland tomorrow.

  Not going to happen.

  “Izzy, you know I date extensively but I don’t do relationships, yet with Harper I’m willing to try.”

  She shook her head, disapproval surrounding her like an aura. “This is not what I want for you, Manish. She’s all wrong for you. It will end badly.”

  “Shouldn’t I be the judge of that?” He pressed a hand to his heart. “As you so consistently point out, I’m forty. Isn’t it time I took a risk on love?”

  “You love her?” Izzy screeched, her eyes bulging as her nose almost touched the screen. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Settle, Izzy, I don’t love her.”

  But the moment he verbalized the rebuttal, he hated the gut-deep twist that signaled he may be lying.

  “We’ll talk about this when you get home.” Izzy waggled her finger at him. “I think you’ll feel differently when you’re back in Melbourne. Vacation romances never last.”

  Manny agreed, but in this case he had every intention of convincing Harper otherwise.

  35

  Harper had wondered if Manny was too good to be true, and now she had proof.

  He should’ve been pissed about how she’d bolted from his room last night. He should’ve taken it out on her in some form today during the four-hour drive back to Auckland.

  Instead, he’d traded banter with her like nothing had happened. Not that he’d talked the whole way. Oh no, even his silences were companionable and not fraught with tension.

  It made her like him all the more.

  With Colin, any disagreements had meant he’d sulk for a day at least, sometimes two, and he never apologized. She’d eventually tire of his childish behavior and end up backing down or cooking his favorite meal. She’d hated it.

  She should’ve known Manny would be more mature than that. Was it an age thing? She’d never dated a guy ten years older, and while his laid-back attitude and charming flirting made him seem years younger, she liked that with age came maturity. It gave her hope they could get through dinner tonight unscathed.

  Wayne Storr had set it up as a thank-you for the great work she’d done; along with depositing her fee with a healthy bonus into her bank account.

  For the first time since she’d started food styling, she had hope she could actually make a living from it. A recommendation from a mogul like him would go a long way to cementing her business, and updating her website was her first priority when she got home.

  “We have a few hours to kill before dinner. Anything in particular you’d like to do?” He gestured at his body, his smirk making her laugh.

  “You really meant it when you said let’s go with the flow, huh?”

  “Absolutely.” He winked and pointed to the elevator that would take them up to their rooms. “As long as that involves the two of us naked again.”

  “Pervert.” She swatted his chest, remembering exploring every inch of it with her tongue, knowing her telltale blush would alert him to her risqué thoughts.

  “Takes one to know one.”

  “What are you, five?”

  “You know exactly how mature I am,” he said, capturing her hand and pressing a kiss to her palm before curling her fingers over it, the simple action sending a jolt of heat shooting straight to her core. “Perhaps you’d like to check out certain parts of me again to vouch for it?”

  “Crude as well as a pervert,” she said, grinning as she pressed the palm he’d just kissed to his chest. “Lucky for you, I don’t mind a bit of rude banter.”

  “What about the rest?”

  He covered her hand with his, and she could feel his heart thudding beneath her palm. “Someone recently said she’d had the best sex of her life, and I’m taking some of the credit for that.”

  “So that’s all you took out of our discussion?” She rolled her eyes and wriggled her hand out from under his. “You’re such a guy.”

  “I’m all man, babe, and don’t you forget it.”

  They grinned at each other, and Harper could’ve leaped for joy that they’d reverted to their old sparring. He really was special. No holding grudges, no delving into her mini freak-out yesterday. Resuming their jaunty familiarity made her like him all the more.

  “So getting back to your original question, how are we going to spend the next few hours before dinner?”

  He clutched his chest like she’d wounded him. “As much as my ego is smarting that you don’t want to spend the afternoon in bed with me, I was actually thinking of checking out Mount Eden if you’re up for it?”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  “Meet you back here in fifteen?”

  “See you then.”

  But before she could walk away, he grabbed her hand. “I meant it when I said let’s go with the flow last night. I enjoy spending time with you. That’s it.”

  His sincerity made her want to fling her arms around him. She settled for reaching up and cupping his cheek. “You’re a special guy, Manish Gomes, and I like spending time with you too.”

  She didn’t understand the intent in his eyes, and suddenly, the seriousness of the situation hit her like a frying pan to the back of the head.

  Here was a guy who’d been witness to her flightiness, her fear, and he hadn’t run. In fact, he’d gone to some lengths to set her at ease.

  Harper hadn’t been looking for a keeper, but maybe she’d found one regardless.

  36

  “You like hiking, don’t you?” Harper flopped onto a bench at the top of Mount Eden and fanned her face. “Which is fine, because you’re a doctor and you’d be into that ‘exercise is good for your health’ crap, but for the record, I’m a couch potato kind of girl.”

  “Noted.” He sat next to her, pulled a bottle of water from his backpack, and handed it to her. “Now drink up. Fatigue makes you grouchy.”

  “Not grouchy. Thirsty,” she said, uncapping the bottle and drinking deeply, drawing his attention to the elegant length of her neck and the pounding of her carotid pulse.

  Before he could second-guess the urge, he leaned across and placed his lips over the pulse, giving a little nip that had her half gasping, half choking as she doused him with water.

  “Are you trying to kill me? I almost choked,” she said, elbowing him away, but there was no malice in her tone, and she pressed her fingertip to the pulse, a coy smile playing about her mouth.

  “It’s okay, I’d revive you with CPR.” He puckered up and made smooching sounds. “A little mouth-to-mouth, combined with my hands all over your chest, you’d be just fine.”

  She aimed an elbow jab his way again and he laughed. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist. You’re gorgeous, even when you’re sweaty.”

  “I am not sweaty. I’m perspiring.” She dabbed at her top lip and grimaced. “Okay, I’m sweating like a pig, but whose fault is that?”

  “If you ever quit complaining, you might thank me for the view,” he said, surprised he could do this all day. Swap banter with her, tease her, make her laugh. It had become their thing. />
  Other women he’d dated hadn’t sparked this level of interaction. They’d smile politely at his jokes or look at him with confusion, like they couldn’t figure him out. But with Harper, there was none of that. She gave as good as she got, jibing like a champ. He loved it.

  “I’m enjoying the view just fine.” Her gaze started at his chest and swept downward, and damned if he didn’t feel it like a physical caress.

  “Stop looking at me like that. I’m wearing shorts.”

  She deliberately focused on his groin. “Oooh, that could be fun, seeing you sporting a boner—”

  “Look at the view out there, now,” he gritted out, already at half-mast.

  “Spoilsport,” she murmured, but did as he said, averting her eyes from him and looking out at the highest volcano in Auckland. “So what am I looking at?”

  Playing tour guide would guarantee he’d take his mind off the situation in his pants, so he pointed at the harbor. “That’s the Auckland Harbor Bridge, and Rangitoto Island. And in case you were wondering, the volcano last erupted fifteen thousand years ago and left a crater fifty meters deep.”

  “Fascinating,” she said, but he heard the laughter in her voice.

  “You’re enjoying torturing me, aren’t you?”

  “A little.” She held up her thumb and index finger an inch apart. “Is it working?”

  “Spouting facts is guaranteed to get my mind off how badly I want to be buried inside you right now, so you can torture me all you like, but I read up on Mount Eden earlier this afternoon so I can recite tourist info all day.”

  When she didn’t respond, he cast a sideways glance to find her tight-lipped, with flaming red cheeks.

  He chuckled. “Now who’s torturing who?”

  “More facts. Now,” she muttered, and he bit back a laugh as he saw her thighs clench together.

  “Hmm . . . facts. Well, the volcanic peak we’re on is known as Maungawhau, with views over the Hauraki Gulf. The suburb of Mount Eden is rather affluent and filled with trendy eateries. And the history is interesting—”

  “You’re the most fascinating man I’ve ever met,” she blurted, turning to face him, hooking one leg under the other. “I just wanted you to know that.”

  “Thanks,” he said, capturing her hand and squeezing. “I know we joke around a lot, which I like by the way, but it’s nice to see you can be serious about your overwhelming feelings for me.”

  She laughed. “Yeah, that’s me. Unable to control my feelings for you.”

  “You jest, but trust me, I grow on you.”

  “Like a fungus?”

  “Hey, don’t make light of that. I’ve seen some pretty bad fungi growths on parts of people that—”

  “Gross.”

  “If geographical facts stop you from flinging yourself at me, I thought disgusting medical facts would do the trick even better.”

  “I’m not the one dealing with a rogue boner.”

  He laughed so loud she jumped, making him laugh even more. “Rogue boner? That’s priceless.”

  “I’m glad I can amuse you.” She tilted her chin in the air, feigning being offended.

  “Hey, as long as you’re not laughing at my rogue boner, we’re good.”

  Their eyes met, and he wondered if Harper knew how truly special their connection was. Because he knew deep down if they stripped away the banter and the jokes and the sex, they’d still have something that was undeniable.

  As if sensing the direction of his thoughts, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. Soft, tender, fleeting, yet the touch of her mouth on his twanged his heart, hard.

  After his mom died, Manny didn’t love. Yes, he loved Izzy, but she was family, and he wouldn’t screw up with her the way he would if he let anyone else get too close.

  But in this moment, with Harper showing him what her lips couldn’t articulate, he knew he was in grave danger of letting her into a place he’d walled off years ago.

  It scared the crap out of him.

  37

  Harper knew Wayne Storr must’ve told the kitchen staff to go all out with this dinner, because she couldn’t believe the quality of every course. Seared scallops with charred scallions, slow-cooked lamb shoulder with fennel ricotta, grass-fed rib eye with polenta and salsa verde, finished with a tiramisu that made her eyes roll back in her head. At least, that’s what it felt like, and if Manny’s rapturous expression was any indication, he liked it too.

  “That is categorically the best meal I’ve ever had.” He patted his stomach and groaned. “And I’m not going to eat for the next week, I’m so stuffed.”

  “Me too.”

  But she knew a good way to burn off calories, and she couldn’t wait a second longer. While the food may have been delicious, watching Manny eat had been torture. His lips wrapping around a scallop, his tongue flicking out to capture a dab of salsa verde on his lip, the small, satisfied groan as he spooned the final scoop of tiramisu into his mouth.

  He’d driven her slowly but surely crazy.

  It seemed like the entire meal had been one giant exercise in foreplay, and she’d been patient long enough.

  Time for dessert.

  In her case, greed was good.

  “Shall we have coffee in my room?”

  His eyes flared with awareness, turning the unique gray a deep pewter. “Yes.”

  He didn’t speak as they stood and he took her hand. She liked that about him. For a guy who could be verbose and teasing, he knew when to shut up.

  Electricity arced between them as they made it to her room, she closed the door, and he was upon her.

  Pinning her against the wall. Hiking her dress up. Tearing her panties off. Unzipping and sheathing and sliding inside her on a low, guttural groan.

  She clung to him, whispering all the things she wanted him to do to her, gasping when he drove harder and faster and deeper, just as she’d ordered.

  He palmed her ass, lifting her off the floor, and she wrapped her legs around him, anchored in a world tipped on its axis.

  He made her feel wanton. Wicked. Wild, as her fingers delved through his hair, angling his head away from hers so she could stare into his eyes, hoping to convey with a look what she could never say.

  I’m falling for you.

  Those beautiful slate eyes blazed with ferocity as he changed the alignment of their hips, his body rubbing her clit with every thrust.

  He stretched her, filled her, and when her muscles spasmed, the pleasure so intense it almost blinded her, he was with her, thrusting into her one last time before her name fell from his lips in a long, drawn-out moan that made her shiver.

  When he leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers, she battled the inexplicable urge to cry.

  They were good together, almost perfect.

  But Harper knew better than anyone there was no such thing as perfect.

  * * *

  • • •

  After showering, Harper slipped into the old T-shirt she wore to bed and checked her face in the mirror one last time. She may have turned off the lights bar a single lamp before going into the bathroom, but who knew what Manny might’ve turned on while she’d been in here. But she couldn’t slather on makeup because he’d become suspicious. Why would she shower last thing at night then reapply a face?

  Thankfully, she’d learned the art of advanced makeup application about two months after her diagnosis. She’d paid a small fortune to attend a renowned celebrity makeup artist’s class to learn the subtleties of application, and had spent many hours practicing, which meant she could achieve a barely there look with enough cover for her patches.

  Satisfied that she looked like she wasn’t wearing any makeup when she’d spent ten minutes achieving that exact look, she opened the bathroom door and exhaled in relief. Only the single lamp farthest from th
e bed was on, meaning she had a fair chance of pulling this off.

  Asking Manny to stay had been a major turning point.

  A big step for her. Huge.

  She trusted him.

  Not enough to reveal her true self yet, but after dinner and the way they’d connected during the frantic sex up against the wall she couldn’t drive him away. Not again. He deserved better, and with this being their last night together she wanted to make it count.

  “I was afraid you’d climbed out the bathroom window to get away from me.”

  She snickered. “I wouldn’t fit.”

  “You would’ve tried if you were desperate enough, but I’m glad you chose to stay.” He flicked back the bedcovers and patted the spot beside him. “Come here so I can impress you with how metrosexual I am and spoon you.”

  “You’ve impressed me enough,” she said, with a coquettish smile, before slipping into bed and pulling up the covers.

  “Come here.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and she snuggled in, terrified by how good this felt but loving it regardless.

  “This is nice,” he murmured, dropping a kiss on top of her head that made her eyes prickle with tears. “Much better than being abandoned, left to doubt my prowess and second-guess my obvious charm.”

  “Are you ever going to let me forget that? I asked you to stay this time, didn’t I?” She gave him a gentle nudge with her elbow, and he clutched his ribs.

  “You have my eternal gratitude. You’ll also have my cardiothoracic surgeon’s bill when he checks me over for cracked ribs.”

  “Wuss.”

  “Bully.”

  She rolled her eyes and laughed. “You know, us swapping banter like this might be the best fun I’ve ever had in bed.”

  “Ouch, now you’re really hurting me, considering we’ve already had sex in a bed.”

  She waved away his concern. “You know what I mean. This is nice. No pressure because it’s our last night together. Just chilling.”

  When he didn’t respond, she glanced up to find him staring at her with surprising solemnity. “Does it have to be our last night?”