Resisting Nick

by Kris Pearson

CHAPTER SIXTEEN — TOTALLY INVOLVED

  “Sammie.” He moved from behind the door, pushed it closed, and crowded her back. He pinned her against it, needing to be close to her again. She’d been on his mind from the moment he’d left—like a grain of sand that itched and abraded and kept reminding him his defenses had been breached.

  God she was sweet. And trying to twist out of his embrace! He grabbed her arms, holding her so he could kiss her, but she wrenched her head aside and his lips slid down her neck. He ended up with his nose buried against her collar, breathing in the sweet smell of her soft skin.

  “Wait, Nick.”

  What the hell had gone wrong? He’d left her naked and purring, and now she’d turned into the ice princess? Suspicion began to spark in his brain.

  “Where were you last night?” He pulled back just enough to focus on her eyes.

  “At home.”

  Sudden fury flamed from the initial spark. He’d assumed she’d caught a movie or been out visiting friends. Either of those he could take, but not outright rejection.

  “Why wasn’t I welcome?”

  “Because we’ve got to stop this.”

  No way, he thought, already hard, already wanting her so much it hurt. “Why?” he demanded.

  “I’ve told you and told you.” She drew a deep breath and her breasts pushed against his chest, deepening the ache. “I’m not here for much longer. I’m going to travel. I don’t want to get involved.”

  He sent her a scathing look. “You’re already ‘involved’.”

  She looked away and bit down on her bottom lip.

  Total giveaway, Sammie. I’m reading you like a book.

  “And I’m already ‘involved’ too,” he grated. “Does this feel like nothing to you?” He released one of her arms and tilted her head up, holding it back against the door with a hand across her throat so he could look into her expressive eyes again.

  She stared at him, wide-eyed, probably panicked by his extreme reaction.

  He pulled his hand away, cursing and muttering an apology. He hadn’t meant to frighten her, but he needed this sorted, wanted her with him. “Do you think it’ll be any harder parting in a fortnight’s time, Sammie? We can’t be in much deeper than we already are.” He stroked a hand down her cheek, unable to stop touching her. “Right now I want to be with you. I think you feel the same.”

  She closed her eyes and shut him out. Enraging as that was he took consolation from the fact he could now feel her trembling. Definitely involved, and reacting to him as strongly as he had to her. Was that what it took? Acknowledgement they were in this together?

  “Come to Sydney with me,” he urged. “I want you there for a couple of days while I check out properties. Start your traveling somewhere easy, and with a friend.”

  He watched as her eyelashes lifted and her green eyes fixed on his again. “I need you there with your secretary’s notebook and sexy shoes,” he tried.

  That teased a reluctant grin from her, and at last he relaxed a little.

  “I’m not trailing you miles around Sydney in high heels. Anyway, you’re out of luck because I don’t have my passport yet. It might be ages.”

  He breathed out long and slow. Okay, situation defused. Work still needed though. “So I’d better not lock the door and throw you on my desk today?”

  “Damn right,” she agreed, pushing up on her toes. “This is all you get.” She brushed her lips over his and turned to leave.

  The sweetness of her sudden capitulation almost floored him. “Hey,” he murmured, guard down, relief high. “One day away from you and I’m begging. This isn’t good.” He pulled her back, and she tucked her face in against his chest, avoiding any further contact with his lips.

  Her scent floated around him like sunshine. Nick pulled her closer and closer until he felt nothing but searing desire and the desperation of needing much more than she seemed willing to give.

  His mobile finally split them apart. Grumbling, he reached for it and eyed the screen before answering. “Glen,” he said, stroking Sammie’s breast before she twisted away. “How’s Sydney shaping up? Any more news from Rod?”

  Sammie wrenched herself from Nick’s embrace and pulled his office door open. The morning wasn’t going to plan, but she now fizzed as though vintage champagne filled her from scalp to sneakers.

  He wants me as much as I want him. Sexy Nicky still can’t keep his hands off me. I could have him for maybe three more weeks if I wanted.

  The knowledge filled her with delicious confusion. She hurried into the staff room, grateful to have a quiet moment to renew her lip gloss and tidy her hair.

  She poured a coffee for Nick and one for herself and dropped his off on the way to her desk. His eyes roamed all over her as she approached, and he caught her hand and raised it to nip the inside of her wrist once she’d set it down.

  She tried to pull away. She shouldn’t have kissed him if she’d wanted to seem serious about not continuing their affair. But it had only been a quick, soft, nothing little peck. That was all she’d intended. His hungry eyes and firm grip told her he’d taken it as a great deal more.

  “Yup—right,” he said to Glen.

  His teeth felt sinful on her skin, and now his tongue had started to flick and slide over the patch where her veins showed close to the surface. His pulse beat against her and it took no imagination at all to shift that slippery caress a great deal further south. She pressed her thighs together, but the sensation only grew.

  “Mmm-hmmm,” he said to Glen, his voice muffled against her flesh. His eyes held hers, intense and unsettling.

  “I’ll let you know, soon as.” He released her, and Sammie beat a fast track out of his office, feeling as though steam pumped out of every pore.

  Through the big glass wall, Heidi’s aerobic group stomped and swayed. Sammie sipped her coffee and tapped her other hand on her desk in time with the carnal beat of the music. She tried to think calm thoughts and failed absolutely.

  He wanted her. He’d said so. She was more than a quick conquest to him, more than a curious dip into their shared past. Her heart swelled as she thought about the next few weeks. Without a passport, she couldn’t go to Sydney, and that was probably just as well. Thinking ahead as far as leaving him wasn’t yet something she was prepared to face. But knowing he wanted her—that felt so good.

  She set her empty coffee mug down and immersed herself in creating a new brochure for BodyWork. She hadn’t been joking when she’d told Nick shorthand was part of her journalist’s training. Grandpa’s sudden stroke had tied her close to home and needing to work regular hours, so she’d reluctantly settled for using her organizational skills to become a top-class P.A.

  Now she had a chance to put her writing and design talent into something both useful and enjoyable.

  She answered incoming calls, greeted clients, became distracted far too often by thoughts of Nick, and slid pieces around on her layout.

  “Hard at work?” Anita asked, wafting towards the desk in her cream tracksuit and a cloud of Ysatis.

  Sammie looked up in surprise and checked the time on the corner of the screen. It was close to eleven—she’d been so absorbed that almost two hours had rocketed by.

  “Come and see,” she invited, beckoning Anita around to view the screen. “I’m wondering if I should put the free Zumba tryout up here as a feature, or over here on the side-bar. And maybe move the mention of easy parking further down? Or do you think that’s important enough to keep up the top?”

  “Speaking of important,” Anita said, rummaging in her squashy leather bag, “a courier delivered this as I was leaving.” She drew a small bright plastic package out. “It’ll be your passport I think.” She felt around the edges to ascertain the size of the contents before handing it over. “Yes, definitely your passport.”

  “Just what she’s been waiting for,” Nick murmured from right behind them.

  “I can’t go,” Sammie insisted over her shoulder.


  “Yes, you can now.”

  “Can or can’t what?” Anita asked, swiveling between them, radar on full alert.

  “Come to Sydney with me for a couple of days.” He turned his dark eyes and best sexy smile on susceptible Anita.

  “Oh you lucky girl!”

  “I can’t go. I have Zorro to feed.”

  “The cat? I could drop by and do that for you now I’ve been to the apartment and met her.”

  Sammie let loose a groan of annoyance.

  “When are you going?” Anita pressed.

  Nick smiled. “As soon as my P.A. can make the bookings. Take care of that please, Samantha. The early direct flight on Air New Zealand Monday or Tuesday for preference?” And he raised a hand in farewell and galloped off down the stairs with a triumphant grin on his gorgeous face.

  “Now look what you’ve done!” Sammie exclaimed, fixing Anita with her best ferocious glare.

  Anita opened her eyes wide. The glare obviously wasn’t doing the trick. “But he’s wonderful. I’d make the most of him if I were you.”

  “And are you going to patch up my broken heart once it’s over?” Sammie demanded in a low-enough voice not to be overheard. “Yes, he’s a hunky guy, but every other woman in town thinks so too. I’m not interested in competing.”

  Anita looked marginally contrite and then escaped Sammie’s ire by saying, “Heavens, nearly time I was ready,” and trotting off to change—no doubt into the most expensive leggings she could find, and a pristine new T-shirt with a designer label.

  Nick whistled as he walked. It took only a few minutes to reach the harbor and the docks. He strode along in the crisp air and tried to drag his scattered thoughts into sensible order. This was his favored thinking place. Here, or on the big Bowflex, working his body into a satisfying sweat. But there he was often interrupted—it went with the territory. So the harbor was good, and he hoped the salty breeze would blow the tangle of cobwebs out of his brain.

  Having Sammie back in his arms had both scared him witless and soothed his raging uncertainty. What was so different about her that he was willing to desert his long held principle of letting his women do the chasing?

  As hard as he tried to convince himself she’d made the first move with her flirty suit and fuck-me shoes, he knew that turning up at her apartment with a bottle of wine was the real starting point. He’d blown on the spark of their initial attraction until it burst into bright snapping flame. She was special, long before he’d known who she was.

  He drew a deep breath and let it out again, listening to the slap of the sea around the piles, the hoot of a distant tug, the low thrum of a ship’s engine as it inched away from a nearby dock.

  Did he need her in Sydney? He could manage without her if he was honest. But did he want her there?

  Whole different question, whole different answer.

  The thought of being the one to show her the first of the foreign places she was so keen to visit pleased him immensely. And the prospect of her company—for a couple of uninterrupted days—felt way better than good. Hearing of her passport’s arrival had wrapped up an excellent morning.

  But…there was still the huge problem of his own identity. He lowered his eyes from the bustling harbor, sighed deeply, and contemplated the toes of his boots as they carried him along the walkway surface. He still had no idea how he’d been ‘adopted’ by Brian and Gaynor, and it burned and ate at him incessantly. Worse, he had no clue how to progress the problem further. Where did you start after thirty years?

  He accepted he was the son of a foreign fruit picker. Brian had no reason to lie about that if the girl was passing through the district and never likely to appear again. His former ‘father’ might have the biggest, most boastful mouth in town, but Nick had known him long enough to judge when he was telling something close to the truth.

  So who was his biological father? Another itinerant fruit picker? The son of an orchard owner? Or had his pregnant mother escaped from whichever country she came from to hide the fact she was already expecting a baby? Hoped to offload it for adoption and continue her life scot free?

  Jesus! He smacked a fist repeatedly into the palm of his other hand as he walked. He’d had a week to stew about it now. A week that had turned his life upside down. The only good thing to come out of it was Sammie, and she seemed determined to leave.

  His mobile interrupted his brooding. He dug the phone from his jacket pocket, and there she was.

  “Nick—I’ve been checking flights for you.”

  “For us.”

  She left a short silence and then continued. “I can’t get you on that early morning direct flight until Thursday. It’s possible via Auckland, but it takes hours longer.”

  “Thursday? Damn. No. Detouring through Auckland’s a bind.”

  “There’s a late-afternoon flight on Sunday, but that’s probably too soon?”

  He thought about it for a few seconds. “Can you make Sunday? If your sister-in-law does the cat?”

  “I’d need to ask Tyler if that’s okay with her...but...yes, I suppose so.”

  It was grudgingly said, but at least she’d agreed. A flicker of triumph raced through his veins.

  “Confirm us for Sunday then. And I’ll book a hotel when I get back in half an hour.”

  “I can do that.”

  “No...” He knew where he wanted to take her. “Leave that to me. You plan what you want to pack. It’ll be warmer than here. Something businesslike for the city sessions. Something casual for sightseeing. Something to wow me over the dinner table. I’ll phone Rod and see if he’s free on Monday.” He walked a few more steps in silence. “In fact, hold off the tickets. I’ll come back right away. Let’s tee Rod up first and book the lot.”

  He snapped the phone shut and stood looking out over the water, trying not to grin like a kid at Christmas.

  Sydney and Sammie. Sunshine and sea and sex—and hopefully the first of his Australian properties as well.

  Sammie slipped out for a late lunch break and prowled the shops, searching for a new robe. She didn’t expect she’d be wearing nightwear in Sydney, but a much thinner robe than her cuddly old winter one had been on her mental shopping list for a while now. Something small to pack, but usefully concealing. When she found the silky cinnamon wisp with swirls of lace above the knee and at the edge of the low-cut neckline, somehow ‘usefully concealing’ didn’t seem so important any more. She took the shiny lingerie bag straight to her car rather than invite questions from any of the girls at BodyWork.

  She spent the rest of the day half thrilled, half horrified. At last she was going traveling. And with Nick. She couldn’t deny it would be nice having company. And fantastic having his company. But it would only make her fall for him even further, and she’d already tumbled dangerously deep. She’d known him less than a week—or well over a decade, depending on which view she took.

  Surely you couldn’t count a teenage infatuation though? Not the naughty not-quite things they’d got up to in the implement shed? Now she knew Nick better, and viewed him with adult eyes, it was clear he had a well-developed sensual side. Hell—he had well-developed everything. The boy who’d wanted to touch and explore had grown into a man who gave and took pleasure as naturally as breathing.

  He’d stirred unsuspected appetites and daring in her that had lain dormant, ready to blossom into searing passion with the right encouragement. She closed her eyes for a moment, imagining the evening to follow. There’d be no holding back by either of them.

  She jerked out of her daydream when she heard Rich yell “Poker night!” as he thundered up the stairs clutching beer and snacks.

  “Who’s playing?” She rose from her seat to retrieve a couple of the slippery packets that had cascaded from his arms onto the floor.

  “Me, Nick, Tyler’s husband, and another mate.” He grinned confidently. “And tonight I’m taking them to the cleaners.”

  “Here?”

  “Ni
ck’s office.”

  And as fast as that, her fantasies flew out the door.