Harlequin KISS August 2014 Bundle (53 page)

Babbling. Shut up, shut up!

‘I won’t be riding home if I don’t have a bike,’ he pointed out
calmly. Yanking her goddamned chain! ‘But in any case I have
a house here, and
hopefully there’ll be furniture by then.’

‘A house? By then?’

Ugh. She’d turned into a parrot. A
babbling parrot.

‘The house was only built last year, and it’s largely a
furniture-free zone.’

‘Are you going to live down here permanently?’

‘Not permanently. I have too much on my plate in Sydney.’

Sunshine knew all about having too
much on your plate. It kept
you nicely occupied so you only had to think, not feel.

Think. Not feel.

That sounded good.

Think, not feel.

If she just remembered that everything would be all right.

And if she thought—ha—
thought!—
about Leo’s full plate, it was clear that although he might
talk about this mythical abyss-jumping woman of his dreams he was no different
from her. He couldn’t
fit
that kind of commitment
into his life. Otherwise he would have it by now. He had enough women to choose
from, for God’s sake! She’d looked him up on the internet again yesterday, and
seen the paparazzi photos. And, all right, that particular bit of searching had
been a weak moment that she would not be repeating!

So! He didn’t have it because
he didn’t want it.

And neither did she.

So she could stop the silly panicking.

Think, not feel.

‘You could stay with me,’ Leo said as one of the hotel staff
approached them. ‘The night of the reception.’

Okay, she couldn’t stop panicking just yet, because her stomach
was rioting again. ‘I don’t think that would be a good idea.’

‘Don’t have to think,’ Leo
said, and touched her cheek. ‘You
can just feel.’

How the
hell
did he lock on to her
thoughts like that? ‘You are freaking me out, Leo.’

‘Am I?’ He sounded delighted. ‘All you have to do is agree to
two more times and I’ll stop!’

Sunshine turned gratefully to the hotel manager.

Introductions. Small talk. All good.

And then the manager asked, ‘Shall we start
the tour with the
honeymoon suite?’

* * *

Sunshine choked on a laugh.

Which made Leo choke on a laugh.

So much unresolved between them—seething lust, and different
takes on life, and twisted psyches—and here they were, being whisked off to the
honeymoon suite like a couple of newlyweds.

‘Wonderful,’ Leo said, biting the inside of his cheek as
Sunshine
choked again.

She carefully kept her eyes off him when they reached the
suite, looking around with a desperate kind of eagerness.

The suite had a touch of Bali about it, with a low bed of dark
carved wood and a beautiful wood floor leading out to a private bamboo garden
and plunge pool.

‘Oh, so perfect! I might book it for myself,’ Sunshine
gushed.

Oh, no,
you won’t.
‘Or for the
actual honeymooners, perhaps?’

‘Oops. Got carried away! Bamboo does that to me.’

‘
Bamboo
does that?’

‘Yes. Did you know it produces up to thirty-five per cent more
oxygen than hardwood trees and absorbs four times as much carbon?’

‘No, Sunshine, I did not. But I can see how that would make you
want to honeymoon with it. There’s something
so sexy about carbon
absorption.’

She giggled, then choked again as she tried to stop it. ‘Well,
I’m sure there are other wonderful rooms here that will suit me very well,’ she
said.

‘I’m sure there are, but you’ll like my place better,’ Leo
said, and almost laughed to see the flicker of panic race across her face.

Her face was flushed, her eyes wide, her lips
parted so he
could see that little gap between her teeth.

And, God, he wanted her. Wanted to run his hands up her legs
and under her dress. To put his mouth on her, make her beg. Wanted to hear her
sigh his name, feel her shudder. Wanted—

Ouch.
To do something with his
painful erection.

Okay—they were going to have to rush through this hotel
tour.

Then rush through the next hotel.

Because it was three o’clock.

And by four o’clock he intended to have her at his house,
preferably naked.

* * *

‘So! Leo!’ Sunshine said, pulling up at South at a
quarter to four. ‘Accommodation is sorted. I’ll cover the card with the list of
charities for donations in lieu of gifts and get that included with the
invitation.
Roger to no MC—just you welcoming the guests. No official speeches,
just a repeat of their wedding vows. Clothes are done. Shoes underway. Kate is
on board to sing. I think we can cover everything else via email.’

Leo hadn’t made a move to get out of the car. He just sat
there.

‘Cake,’ he said.

‘The—the guys can just pick that, can’t they? Like you
originally
suggested.’

‘Sunshine, I brought down four miniature decorated cakes
because you wanted a tasting, and if you think I’m taking them, untouched, back
to Anton—who is monumentally temperamental and had to be talked into making them
in the first place—you can think again.’
Forgive me,
mild-mannered Anton...

‘Oh, then I guess... Or maybe I could cut a piece of each
and—’

‘And then there’s the seating plan. I’ve got the night off.’
Go, Pinocchio.
‘I don’t know when I’ll get
another, so we may as well get that sorted.’

‘But I—I...I have a date.’

‘Date?’

‘Er...Tony. The calligrapher.’

‘The calligrapher is an ex. Break the date.’

‘How do you know he’s an—? Oh, I told you, didn’t I?’

‘Yep. And in any case we haven’t
resolved the two versus four
issue—you’re mine until we do.’

Sunshine dragged in a breath. Held it.

‘Breathe, Sunshine. It’s just cake.’
Like
hell.
‘And I also have a sample Anton made as a potential wedding
favour to show you.’

She was looking torn. ‘But we could do
that
via email.’

‘And I have everything I need to make meat-lovers’ pizza.’

Her mouth fell
open. ‘Oh, well, in that case.’ She started
getting out of the car.

‘What are you doing?’ Leo asked.

‘Going into the restaurant.’

‘No, we’re going to my house.’

‘I thought there wasn’t any furniture.’

‘It’s not quite
that
basic. There’s
a completely fitted-out kitchen. With food. And a makeshift dining suite,
although the table is on wheels. Some balcony
furniture. Bathroom stuff. A
mattress.’

Dare you! Dare you to come!

Her nose was wrinkling up; he could practically see the
arguments bouncing around in her head.

‘Think of the cake, Sunshine.’

‘All right,’ she said, with the air of a Christian martyr
marching towards the lions’ den.

‘Good,’ Leo said, and started getting out of the car.

‘What are you
doing?’

‘I’ll take the bike. You follow me. I’ll grab my jacket and
keys while you call Tony.’

‘Tony?’ she asked, blankly. And then, ‘Oh, yes. Tony. I...’

‘Forgot Tony? Poor Tony.’

* * *

For the first time ever Leo rode like a bat out of
hell.

He didn’t feel good about it, because he knew Sunshine would be
in a state—but he also knew it was the most
effective way to smash through the
wall she was trying to erect between them. The best way to
not
end up like Tony and all the others who had never got to the
magical fourth assignation.

Well, Leo Quartermaine was not a piece of meat. He was getting
to number four, and if it took the damned motorbike to get there so be it.

He was going so fast he had to pass the house
and double back
twice so Sunshine could keep sight of him. She was still lagging behind when he
zoomed off the road and into the carport, but he was sure she’d been watching
him closely and would find her way.

He wondered what she’d think of his place. The nondescript
carport gave no hint that it was the gateway to a modern architectural
masterpiece. Once they left
the carport, however, and headed down a steep set of
steps, it would be like entering a different world. The house was basically a
long, horizontal strip of wood and glass cut into the side of a low cliff. A
second set of steps led from the house to a beach so secluded it was like Leo’s
private patch of ocean.

The Fiat finally puttered in and Leo braced himself for her
reaction, looking closely at her partly averted face as she got out of the
car.

Very blank, very pale.

Without speaking to him she went to the boot, took out a
cherry-red briefcase, fixed the strap over her shoulder. And then she turned
towards him, and he saw that the weird face-morph thing had happened, that she
was trembling.

And Leo knew he could never
do that to her again.

She followed him to the top of the stairs, where he stopped.
‘Are you all right?’

She merely looked at him, but he was relieved to see things
settling back into place.

‘Take off your shoes,’ Leo said. ‘It will be safer.’

‘Don’t talk to me about
safe
.’

‘Then give me your briefcase.’

‘No. Let’s just see how you like thinking about my
breaking
body tumbling down those stairs, with my anklebones smashed in these heels and
my briefcase cracking my skull open.’

‘All right. I’m sorry I rode like that.’

She was speechless for a moment, and then she drew back her arm
and punched him in the shoulder. At least it looked like a punch; it felt more
like a slap with a cushion. ‘You told me you weren’t a teenage
hothead,’ she
said shakily.

‘I’m not. I’m sorry.’

‘Shut up, Leo. I’m too angry with you to hear an apology. And
there had better be six kinds of meat on that pizza after putting me through
that! And
buffalo
mozzarella!’

Buffalo mozzarella
—what a
zinger.

He only barely managed not to laugh. ‘Just give me the damned
briefcase,’ he said, biting the inside
of his cheek.

She punched him again. Same shoulder. She clearly wasn’t a
candidate for cage fighting if that was the best she could do. ‘You are
not
carrying my briefcase, Mr Alpha-Beta-Zeta,’
Sunshine said.

‘Don’t forget the Gamma.’

She tossed her hair over her shoulder and waved him imperiously
on: start the descent.

Leo took the first step, and the next, and
the next, navigating
slowly, staying just a half-step ahead. If Sunshine stumbled, if she even
gasped, he would turn and catch her and toss her over his shoulder and carry her
even if she kicked and screamed all the way.

But Sunshine—the epitome of high-heeled confidence—didn’t put a
foot wrong, and they arrived at the entrance to the house without incident. He
opened
the door and gestured her in ahead of him.

The use of glass was similar to what he’d done at South, except
that where South had windows the house had full-length glass doors, opening onto
a long veranda. The view was just as stunning. But because the house was so much
lower, and perched within a cove, it had a more intimate connection with the
beach.

Sunshine was
walking slowly, uncertainly, to the glass
doors.

‘Go out,’ Leo urged, stripping off his jacket and tossing it
onto one of the few chairs.

She put down her briefcase and slid one of the doors open.
Stepped onto the wooden deck, walked over to the edge.

He followed her out, wondering what was going through her head
as she looked out.

‘My sister would have
loved this,’ she said.

Moonbeam.
Quelle surprise.
‘And
you?’

She half turned, looked into his eyes. He could see the tears
swimming.

Because of Moonbeam? Or him and his bone-headed motorbike
stunt?

Whatever! Leo simply reeled her in, held her close.

So mind-bogglingly easy to touch her now he’d set his course.
So easy...

Her head was on his shoulder,
and then she turned her face to
kiss the shoulder she had punched earlier.

‘I’m sorry for punching you,’ she said. ‘I’ve never punched
anyone before.’

‘I don’t know how to break it to you, but those punches didn’t
hurt.’

‘Then I hope it hurts washing my Beige Amour lipstick out of
your woollen top. And I won’t be sorry if it
doesn’t
come out.’

‘You
can draw a map on the back in Beige Amour, okay? I deserve
it.’

He could feel her breath, her spiky lashes against his
neck.

‘You made me so mad,’ she said.

‘I know. I’m sorry.’

‘And you’re supposed to have haphephobia. We shouldn’t be
standing like this.’

‘I’m supposed to have
what
?’

‘Fear of touch.’

He swallowed the laugh. This was
not
the time
to make fun of her. ‘But, Sunshine, we
are
standing like this. Maybe that means I’m making
progress on my phobia. So...how’s
your
phobia
tracking?’

He heard her breath hitch, felt it catch in her chest. She
pulled out of his arms and turned back to the view for a long moment. He thought
she wasn’t going to answer, but then she turned back.

‘If you mean my reluctance
to get emotionally close to people,
that’s not a phobia—it’s an active choice.’

‘The wrong choice.’

‘The right choice for me.’ And then she gave a shuddery kind of
sound that was like a cross between a sigh and a laugh. ‘Okay, you’ve yanked my
chain. I’ve punched you. Let’s move on before I start boring myself. We have
things to do, so onwards and upwards: let them
eat cake! Did you know that Marie
Antoinette never actually said that?’