Bad Boys Down Under (20 page)

Authors: Nancy Warren

BOOK: Bad Boys Down Under

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They left the car for a valet to park, and ran for the elevator. He wanted nothing more than to thrust his hand under her skirt and find that nicely oiled spot, but just as the elevator was about to close, a businessman got in, gave them a stiff nod, and then stared at the floor numbers.

Steve stared at Lise.

She stared back at him, her irises so wide and dark her eyes were full of secrets. All of which he wanted to discover.

The elevator stopped and with a jolt he realized it was his floor. They managed to exit at a walk, but no sooner did the doors slide shut behind them than they sprinted the rest of the way to his room.

Once inside, there was no possible way he could make it to the bedroom. With all the grace of a rutting bull, he turned her so her back was to him, pushed her against the nearest sofa, bent her over the arm, lifted her skirt.

She was already panting. She slipped her legs apart and when he touched her she gasped, so hot and wet he knew she was as desperate for fulfillment as he.

“Take me, take me now,” she gasped, and he thought he'd never heard sweeter words.

He dropped the ridiculous shorts, sheathed himself in a second, and then, with a great groan of satisfaction, slid into her ready body.

The sound she made, when he was as deep as he could thrust, and his hips were pressed against her bottom, was somewhere between a sob and a cheer.

He knew exactly how she felt. His body was standing up and cheering while somewhere inside he felt like wailing. He wasn't a man given to crying, so it was odd to say the least, but somehow, when he moved inside this woman's body, he felt an emotional pull deep inside him.

She was bent over, her upper body sprawled on the couch, her blouse pulling out of the waistband of her skirt from the thrusting movements of her hips. Her hair tangled in disarray and her hands clutched and unclutched against the upholstery as she pushed herself back against him; but there was a space where her hair had parted away from the nape of her neck. The skin looked so white and silky against her dark hair and he could see the bump of a vertebrae.

Something about the sight of that patch of skin filled him with tenderness, even as his body rutted with animal need.

Her lower body was pushing and squirming against him, her mouth open and panting. He felt the walls of her vagina begin to close in on him, a hot squeeze with every thrust. He slipped a hand to the front of her body beneath her skirt and found her hot button, slick with oil and her own juices. The minute he touched it she started to shudder and the pleasant squeezing increased in intensity.

He was only human. He'd fantasized about this moment while he'd been propped and bent and photographed and ordered into some new and equally ridiculous position and photographed again. Now here she was, gyrating madly against him, her body hotly milking him, those crazy sounds coming from her throat and that sweet, vulnerable skin at the back of her neck shining up at him.

He felt the wave build somewhere beneath his feet, felt it pick him up, while he battled to stay on the crest, battled to hold her with him, until the wave seemed to break between them, tossing them out into the ocean before bringing them softly into shore.

Anyone who didn't believe surfing and sex were related was crazy.

Chapter Eleven

“What would you have done if you hadn't had to leave school when you were sixteen?” Lise asked Steve. They were in bed, having crawled from the living room straight to the shower and spent so long together under the pounding water that she felt cleaner than she ever had in her life, and more satiated.

There was nothing like good sex for making her loquacious, and while Steve wasn't a big post-coital chatterbox, at least he didn't go from orgasm to REM in under ten seconds like her last boyfriend.

His chest rose and fell with his steady breathing and under her hand she felt the regular beat of his heart as he pondered her question.

“I wanted to go to university,” he said at last. “I was interested in engineering.”

“You still could. You're young enough.”

“Dunno. I've got my life now.” He waved a hand around the elegant hotel suite. “It's not like this. This was just a bit of fun.” He rolled over until he was heavily on top of her and stared down into her eyes, as serious as she'd ever seen him. “It doesn't feel like a bit of fun, though, does it?”

Unable to speak for the lump in her throat, she shook her head.

He kissed her softly. “Come home with me.”

“Pardon me?”

“When I go home, come with me.”

Her heart jerked and stuttered painfully in her chest. “What are you saying?”

He glanced off to a spot on the pillow. “You must be due for a holiday, you work hard enough. Take a few weeks off and come back to Oz with me. I'll show you 'round a bit. Take you for some proper surfing. I won't be going back to work for a few more weeks.”

“And then what?” she asked, her voice as hollow as the feeling in her chest.

He shrugged, but she could see from the frown pulling his brows together that he was as confused as she.

She tried to smile, but it wasn't easy. “Or you could stay.”

She could see he was going to refuse so she rushed on, heedless of the fact that she was probably making the hugest fool of herself ever. “There are wonderful universities here, and you could organize your schedule so you could still do some work for Crane.”

Lise's instincts were pretty good, and when she'd seen the photo shoot, she'd known, just as she had from the commercial shoot, that they had a winner on their hands. When Steve found his focus, he had the most amazing ability to project both a rugged manliness and a mouth-watering sexiness. He was that rare man who could appeal to both the male and female consumer.

Sure, Jennifer Talbot had discovered him, but Lise knew she'd groomed and shaped him. She understood him well enough to help him through the inevitable awkwardness of changing from a steelworker to a product spokesman.

She could also help him realize his dreams. With her love and support, he could do anything.

Even as she accepted that she loved him, had fallen into love with him far quicker than was good for her, she also accepted that she might lose him. He had family, a completely different career, and another life on the other side of the world.

She'd even follow him there if he asked more of her than a few weeks' holiday. She'd give up her job and her life here in California to be a steelworker's wife in Australia. She knew she would. But for one problem.

He hadn't asked her.

His wedding ring phobia didn't seem to be any closer to being cured than when she'd first slept with him.

She tried to smile, but it went pretty crooked at the corners. “I don't think a holiday in Australia is a good idea for me right now,” she said. “This campaign is really important to my career.” And if a career was all she was going to haveâ
damn it
âshe was going to have a stellar one.

“Once we finish all the nonsense that's in my contract next week, I'm going home,” he told her softly, running a hand down her cheek as though memorizing its texture.

She nodded, unable to speak.

How had she let this happen? She was a sensible woman in control of her life; how on earth had she fallen so completely for this man in a matter of weeks? Why couldn't she be like Sonia and change men like she'd change a dress? Why did she have to fall so heavily for a man she couldn't have?

“I'm sorry,” he said, pulling her to him almost fiercely.

“Me, too,” she mumbled into his chest.

The rest of the week was a blur. It wasn't so bad during the day when they were working, but at night she could hardly bear it. They were together every second, making love like two people doomed to be eternally parted.

But the week passed, probably at about the same rate most weeks passed; it was only to Lise that time felt like a trick rug being pulled out from under her feet.

His plane was booked. She'd seen the ticket. Everything they needed him for here in California was done. The rest could be tweaked in Sydney. Of course she knew there would be calls for his services when those ads started running, but he'd be sweating on a bridge somewhere thousands of miles away, his hair gilded by the sun, his body bronzed by it. And she'd be nothing but a memory.

“I can't take you to the airport tomorrow,” she said the last night they were together. She'd made enough of a fool of herself when she'd met him there when he arrived. She'd top her own record if she wailed and clung to his knees trying to stop him from leaving her. No, if she wanted to hang on to any scrap of pride, she was going to say goodbye in private.

He nodded, looking so sad and lost she wanted to cry.

“I wish you could come with me,” he said.

She shook her head slowly. “I can't, Iâ”

“I know you're busy now, but later, when the campaign's all done, couldn't youâ”

“No, Steve, I couldn't.”

“I love you,” he said, almost breaking her heart.

“I know. I love you, too. But I think I must be an old-fashioned girl at heart. I want all of you. Forever.” Her voice sounded husky and old.

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

“I know. You couldn't help it.”

So he made love to her one last time, and she made love to him, and when she woke in the morning, he was gone.

She got to the office, determined to carry on with the rest of her life just as though half of her wasn't missing. And within a couple of hours of her return to the office she almost did feel like her old self.

Her head ached and her belly burned.

“I thought you'd kicked that habit,” Sonia said, walking in as she was in the middle of chugging a couple of pain pills down with antacid.

She screwed the white plastic cap back on and shoved the stuff into its accustomed place in her top drawer. “Nope. Just took a holiday.” She sighed deeply. “But the holiday's over now.” She pulled up the ad layout that had put the burn in her stomach and the pain in her head. Of all the possible jobs for her to be stuck with, did it have to be the advertising campaign that featured all Steve all the time?

His wonderful, strong, decent face that she'd kissed so many times. His gorgeous green eyes that had twinkled at her so often, and looked at her so sadly at the end, the body that had brought hers so much pleasure. The man she loved in all his parts.

How was she going to get over the man when she had to work with his image and his voice for weeks yet?

She grit her teeth and got on with it, knowing that this was still one of the most important clients she'd ever worked for and that this campaign was going to be the best work she'd ever done.

A couple of hours went by, and she refused to acknowledge that his plane must have taken off by now. He was on his way home to his steel and his family and those “shielas” that would soon make him forget about her.

A knock sounded on her open door, and she turned to find Anton from the art department standing there. “I've got the mock-up of the Crane magazine ad,” he said. Anton was the best she hadâintense, focused, and hip to the max from his spiky hair to his shoes.

“Come on in,” she said, feigning excitement. Until she looked at the mock-up and then the excitement turned real.

“Oh, Anton, this is fabulous,” she said. There he was. Steve, her Steve, balanced on a Crane surfboard, his glorious body bent forward into the wind, his eyes squinting right at her, fiercely focused. Anton had put him into the curl of a wave the likes of which she'd never seen, but she knew better. That man had been thinking of her, not the ocean.

A small smile played over her lips as she recalled the aftermath of that photo shoot.

Her desk phone rang, and because she was wandering, blissed out, down memory lane and had forgotten she was in a meeting with Anton, she picked it up.

“Lise,” he said. Just that one word.

“Steve?” Her heart banged painfully against her ribs.

She calculated rapidly, he must be halfway to Hawaii by now. Was he phoning her from the plane?

“I need someone to pick me up from the airport. I was wondering if you were free.”

Her head was spinning. Airport? “Which airport?”

“San Francisco,” he said with the ghost of a laugh.

“What happened? Was your plane cancelled? Delayed?”

“No. It took off all right, but I wasn't on it.”

She swallowed hard. With a mutter of protest, Anton removed the mock-up from her hands before her clutching, sweating fingers could destroy it. “I'll come back later,” he said and left, closing her office door behind him.

“Why weren't you on the plane?”

“You know, I'm not entirely sure. I'd like to take some time to work that out.”

“Howâhow much time were you thinking of?”

“As long as it takes.”

Forever.
She was thinking a question like that could take at least a lifetime to work out. In that time, so much could happen. There was Crane, acting if he wanted it, university if he still dreamed of being an engineer. They could spend time here and time in Australia. If they loved each other enough, anything was possible.

“Are you still there?”

“Yes. Sorry. You took me by surprise.”

Why could she only find one shoe? She'd slipped them off earlier and now her questing toes could only reach one.

“So, you'll come to the airport and pick me up?”

“Yes, if I can ever find my other shoe.”

He chuckled. “Borrow Sonia's. And maybe you can borrow her dress again while you're at it.”

“I can't believe youâ”

But she was cut off by a chuckle. “I love you,” he said.

And really, what else was there to say?