Harlequin KISS August 2014 Bundle (56 page)

With so little encouragement to pine for him, and fewer reasons to worry about him now that he was
sans
motorbike, Sunshine figured she should have managed to get her wayward emotions under control. But the bike sale hadn’t seemed to lessen her anxiety over him. She thought, and thought, and thought about him.
All the goddamned time.
Exactly what she’d been trying to avoid.

And then that one touch of his, brushing her fringe aside, and her emotions had surged so suddenly she’d almost thrown
herself at him.

Now just the sight of him walking to the middle of the restaurant and clapping his hands to get everyone’s attention, looking so delicious in that crisp white jacket, started her stomach jumping like popping candy.

He made a welcome speech—explained what would happen, ran through the menu, asked people to make sure they passed on all feedback, good and bad—and all through
it Sunshine stared at him as though he were a nice big bowl of tiramisu...

When he left for the kitchen the whole night suddenly felt flat—and it didn’t reshape itself except when he made his occasional forays from the kitchen to take a momentarily empty seat and chat to guests.

But never at Sunshine’s table. And she didn’t know whether to be happy about that or not. On the one hand
she wouldn’t have had to strain every minuscule cilia in her ears, trying to hear what he was saying. But on the other he’d surely notice that she had become, in just two weeks, the equivalent of a fried bat.

And then he was at the table next to hers, and Sunshine caught his eyes on her for the first time since he’d shown her to her table.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up.
She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t even seem to swallow. He was nodding at something the woman next to him was saying but he was looking at Sunshine.

After ignoring her for two whole weeks he was daring to look at her as if he would drag her off to a corner, rip off her clothes and—

His head jerked to the side, towards the entrance, and Sunshine’s eyes jerked reflexively.
There was a disturbance going down, being played out in a series of split-seconds. An escalating pitch of voice. A scuffling sound. A shift of bodies. And—

Natalie Clarke.
Uh-oh.

Within seconds Leo was up and walking swiftly over to Natalie, taking her arm, murmuring to the restaurant manager who’d been trying to handle the situation, and escorting Natalie out onto the viewing platform.

Sunshine felt a little as she had that night at the Rump & Chop Grill. Light-headed with fury on Leo’s behalf...desperate to protect him. She didn’t even wait for her head to tell her heart it was none of her business. With a fixed smile and an incoherent murmur about a ‘wedding issue’, Sunshine took off after Leo.

TEN

Sunshine reached
the viewing platform just in time to see Natalie land a swinging slap against Leo’s cheek.

The burst of rage that flared in her head made her shake. ‘What the
hell’s
going on?’ she demanded, grabbing Natalie’s hand as it drew back for a second go.

‘Go back inside, Sunshine,’ Leo said, and tried to shove her behind him.

‘You!’ Natalie said contemptuously.
‘Choke-girl!
You’re
the Sunshine person?’ She looked Sunshine up and down. ‘They say at Q Brasserie that he’s besotted with you. But he doesn’t know
how
to love someone. He’s not capable. He can’t even
touch
you.’

Sunshine didn’t bother answering. She simply manoeuvred herself beside Leo—which required a sharp nudge with her elbow, since he seemed determined to keep her out of harm’s way—and
then took his hand in hers, brought it to her lips, kissed it, rubbed it against her cheek.

‘Really?’ she asked Natalie, with a raise of her eyebrows.

Surrendering, Leo drew Sunshine protectively against his side. ‘Natalie,’ he said, ‘tonight is a private function. And there are journalists inside who are probably wondering what the hell’s going on out here. Can we
not
play this out
in a blaze of publicity? Go back to Sydney—or there’s a hotel nearby if you don’t feel up to driving back tonight.’

‘Why don’t I go and wait at your house, Leo?’ Natalie purred the question, shrugging out of her coat. She shimmied a little, sinuous as a snake.

Sunshine, beset by another burst of rage, stiffened, and Leo squeezed her hand slightly. Telling her to let it go.

And she
should. She knew she should...

But Natalie licked her lips and raised one eyebrow, and the rage consumed her.

Sunshine laughed—a brittle laugh that sounded nothing like her. ‘I’d forgotten about the tattoos,’ she said. ‘Butterflies. They’re the gang rapists of the insect world, you know.’

She heard Leo choke on a laugh and she squeezed
his
hand. Hard.

Natalie fluttered one
arm out to look at her tattoos. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘They are so desperate to mate they perch on a female pupa—that’s the metamorphosis stage, you know, where they go from larva to—’

‘This is disgusting.’

‘I
know
!’ Wide-eyed. ‘Especially because they perch there in a pack and wait for the female to emerge. And she’s still limp, and her wings haven’t even opened, and the first
male just kind of grabs her and...well, you get the picture. And then the others take their turn.’

‘That’s...’ Words seemed to fail Natalie.

Sunshine was contemplating Natalie’s arms sadly. ‘Next time get an eagle; at least they mate for life.’

Natalie stood there, quivering with impotent rage, staring from Sunshine to Leo.

One fraught moment. Another. Three people on one small
viewing platform. Nobody moving.

And then, with a last look of loathing at Sunshine, Natalie turned on her heel and stalked off the platform.

Sunshine dropped Leo’s hand and stepped back. ‘
Now
I’ll go back in,’ she said.

‘Why did you even come out?’

‘I just...I just thought you might need some support.’

‘It looked a little like a leap into the abyss to me.’

No.
No!
‘I just don’t like violence. And she slapped you. It made me...mad.’ She looked at his face, which was still reddened where Natalie’s hand had connected.

Half-laugh as he ran his fingers over his cheek. ‘Yeah, you’ll have to lift some weights if you want to match her.’

Sunshine, conscience-stricken, felt the colour drain from her face. ‘Oh, my God, you’re right. I’m just like her.’

Leo took her hands in his, pulled her towards him. ‘You’re nothing like her.’

‘But I punched you!’

‘And then you kissed it better, remember?’

‘I— Yes, I remember.’

She shivered.

‘Are you cold?

Nod. ‘I brought a coat, but it’s in my car.’

‘Then come here,’ he said softly, and drew her in, folding his arms around her. ‘And Moonbeam? Is she in the car too?’

She nodded again.

‘So it’s happening?’ he asked gently.

Another nod. ‘Yes, if you’re sure you don’t mind.’ And then, just a whisper, ‘Tomorrow is the anniversary of...of...’

‘Ah, Sunshine.’ He stroked his hand over her hair and they stayed like that for a long moment. ‘We’ll disappear as soon as dessert is cleared, okay?’

‘Tony...’

‘Yeah—I don’t give a rat’s ass about
Tony, and neither do you.’

‘I don’t think rats’ asses are an apt comparison.’

‘A horse’s ass, then.’

She giggled, and then buried her face against his chest to stifle it. Because it wasn’t funny.

‘Whatever he is, he can fend for himself,’ Leo said. ‘Because I know he didn’t drive down with you. Aside from anything else, I know you wouldn’t have him in the car with Moonbeam.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘Because I just do.’ Slight pause. ‘So that stuff about butterflies—was it true?’

‘Well, it’s true of
certain
species,’ Sunshine said, drawing slowly out of his arms. ‘I’m not sure about
all
species.’

He opened the door to the restaurant, laughing. ‘Poor Natalie. Probably
not
arms full of rapists.’

‘Do you think I should tell her?’ Sunshine asked,
feeling suddenly guilty.

‘If I could find pupil dilation on the internet I’m sure Natalie can find rapist butterflies,’ Leo said. ‘I like the thing about the eagles, though. Mating for life.’

* * *

It was time.

Sunshine was standing on his veranda at the top of the stairs, barefoot, with the urn in her arms. She was wearing a long knitted garment over her hemp dress. It flowed
down to her ankles. No fastenings. A little bit witchy, a little bit hippie—perfect for a ceremonial ash-tossing.

‘Right,’ she said, and stood there looking irresolute.

Leo simply waited.

‘Right,’ she said again, with a tiny nod this time. And then she shot a look at Leo over her shoulder. ‘I have to do this myself.’

‘I know. I’ll come down to the beach, just in case you need
me, but I’ll stay at the base of the steps.’

‘I won’t need you.’

‘In case.’ Implacable.

She looked paler than usual. Tense. And oddly hopeful.

And then she straightened her shoulders and started down the steps.

Leo waited two minutes, then followed. By the time he reached the sand her toes were in the wash.

He knew he would never forget the image of Sunshine, alone,
surrounded by moon, surf, sand, night, as she lifted the urn to her face, kissed it.

And then she took off the lid and threw it behind her, discarded.

As if on cue an offshore breeze stirred, and Sunshine threw her head back, hugging the urn to her chest for one brief moment. Then, in one sudden, decisive movement, she threw the ashes up and out towards the water. She repeated the move
once more. Then she bent, filled the urn with the seawater rushing in, waited while the water receded, then raced in again...tipped the urn so its contents hit the sand just as the new wave broke. And the last of Moonbeam’s ashes were carried out to the ocean.

The minutes ticked by.

The breeze died away.

The rhythmic whooshing of surf on sand continued.

Life goes on.

And then Sunshine tossed that beautiful urn aside as though it were nothing but a broken shard of shell and walked back up the beach towards him, silent, tears streaming.

He opened his arms and she walked right into them. He said nothing. Just held her as her tears gradually eased, then stopped.

Staying in the circle of his arms, she looked up. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘You know, she would
have loved you.’

And you?
he wanted to ask. But instead he said, ‘Come to bed, Sunshine.’

She looked at his face in the moonlight. Touched his cheek. Nodded. ‘One last time.’

* * *

She woke wearing one of Leo’s shirts, alone on the mattress.

The makeshift curtains were drawn, except for a crack through which a piercing sliver of light beamed.

She got out of bed to
tug the curtains back—and there it was: Moonbeam’s beach. Wild and beautiful and...peaceful. Perfect.

Leo wandered in, wearing unbuttoned jeans and a navy blue T-shirt.

And the feeling of peace evaporated as her stomach started its usual Leo-induced cha-cha.

Time for reality.

‘I’m about to make you an omelette,’ he said, smiling. ‘It will only be a few minutes, if you want
to come out on the veranda when you’re ready. And don’t worry—there will be chorizo in there.’

A dart of panic stabbed her. ‘No. I don’t want it.’

‘Don’t like chorizo?’

‘It’s not about the ingredients.’

The smile vanished. ‘Then what is it about?’

‘The fact that you never cook for people.’

‘And yet I do it for you.’

Her breath hitched. ‘But I—I don’t want you
to cook for me.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because it’s not what you do. You shouldn’t change for me. Because...’

‘Because...?’

‘Because I can’t change for you.’

‘I haven’t asked you to.’

‘Oh.’ That took the wind out of her sails. ‘That’s...good. I was scared because...’

‘Because?’

‘Well, Natalie said last night the people at Q Brasserie...they think you’re besotted with
me. That wouldn’t be good.’

‘I’m not besotted,’ he said. ‘Does that reassure you?’

‘Yes. No. I don’t know.’

‘Multiple
choice
, Sunshine? How...comprehensive.’

‘No. I mean—yes, it reassures me,’ she said. ‘I just...want us to be on the same page.’

‘What specific page are you talking about?’

‘Page number four,’ she said. ‘Four assignations. All settled. And I’m glad
we did it. I was feeling guilty because you gave up your bike, and I never got around to filing the papers to change my name—because it didn’t feel right, somehow. And I still...owed you.’

‘Is that what last night was about? Honouring the deal?’

Last night came rushing back at her—the gentleness and joy of it. The way he’d hovered over her, lavishing her with his touch. Hands so sure
and wonderful. The layered feelings of his mouth sliding over her, sometimes gentle, sometimes demanding. Worshipping her body with his—that’s what it had felt like. Whenever she’d made a sound he’d been there, kissing her, soothing her. And even when she’d made no sound he’d been just there—something of his, on her.

But now, the morning after, with the terror of love choking her, she wanted
to throw herself at his feet and beg him never to go, never to die.

But he couldn’t promise that.

‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘I owed you and now we’re done.’

She snatched her dress off the floor and started walking away.

‘Where are you going?’ Leo asked

‘To the bathroom. To change.’

Leo folded his arms over his chest. ‘Not only have my eyes been all over your body, but
so have my hands and my mouth. And now you’re running to the bathroom?’

She paused, undecided. And then, with a defiant shrug, she ripped off the shirt she was wearing, dragged her dress over her head.

Leo bent, scooped something off the floor. ‘Forgetting these?’ he asked.

She snatched the tiny bronze-coloured panties from him and struggled into them while trying to stay covered.

‘There,’ she said. ‘Happy?’

He watched her, brooding, hooded. ‘No.’

‘Leo, what do you want from me?’

‘I want to know where you think we go from here—one month out from the wedding.’

‘Well, we’re going to be family. Sort of...’

‘I’m not your brother.’

‘I meant more like...like surrogate family. Like friends.’

‘I’m not your friend.’

‘But we
could
be friends.’

‘I told you way back when that I don’t do that.’

‘I know you don’t, usually—but I’m not like your other exes.’

‘And I’m not like yours. I won’t be Facebook “friending” you, making it to a movie, popping out for a coffee, or catching up over a casual dinner where we give each other a kiss on the cheek goodnight.’

‘But why not?’

‘Because I want you.’

She stared helplessly
at him as her heart thudded in her aching chest. ‘You already said you
didn’t
want me.’

‘I didn’t say that.’

‘You said you weren’t besotted.’

‘That’s different. I want you, all right...the same way you want me. And it’s got nothing to do with friendship.’

She swallowed. God. God, God,
God
. ‘I—I don’t want to...to want you like that.’

He moved like lightning, grabbing her
arms and hauling her up on her toes. ‘But you do. Your pupils are telling me you do, Sunshine,’ he said, and smiled. ‘Nice and big—for me.’ He nudged his pelvis against her. ‘Like that—nice and big. For you.’

She swallowed convulsively. ‘You know I can’t let myself love you.’ The words sounded torn from her throat.

‘Who mentioned love? Not me—
you
did, Sunshine. You.’ He kissed her, a
hard, drugging, wrenching scorch of mouth and tongue that made her melt and steam and long for him.

She almost cried out a protest when he stopped.

‘Call this thing between us anything you want—except friendship,’ he said. ‘Because I will
never
be your friend.’

He let her go suddenly, and she stumbled backwards.

‘I’m giving you fair warning, Sunshine: I
will
have you again.
Five, six, seven times. Or ten, twenty. Anything except four. I will have you again, and there will be nothing friendly about it.’

* * *

Frustrated and furious, Leo went down to the beach after Sunshine had left.

No—she hadn’t ‘left’; she had run away, as if all the demons of hell were after her.

He needed a swim to snap his tortured brain back to a modicum of intelligence.
And he hoped the water was frigid. He hoped—