Harlequin KISS August 2014 Bundle (67 page)

‘Yup.’ He looked down, his lips moving as he ran his eyes down the sprawling handwriting.

Olivia leant her forehead against the cool of the window and silently castigated herself as shame wormed a warm trail through her body. Adam cared about this event because it raised money for a charity that tried to combat the disease
that had taken his mother from him. And she was sitting here cavilling over the fact that through no fault of his own he needed a girlfriend on his arm to demonstrate his respectability.

Yuck.
She was so busy worrying about what people would think of her, so caught up in her own emotional baggage, that she’d shoved her head straight up her own backside.

The limo glided to a stop and
Adam placed the papers next to him and hauled in a breath.

‘Adam?’

He turned to her and her tummy dipped.

‘This event is going to be great,’ she said. ‘You’ll wow them.’

Without letting herself think she slid across the seat, her dress skimming the smoothness of the leather, until they were thigh to thigh. Twisting her upper body, she smiled at him before cupping his jaw in
the chalice of her palms. She leant forward and brushed her lips against his cheek. Her heart gave a pang at the realisation he must have shaved specially. Not a trace of the stubble that had grazed her face the previous day remained.

‘Your mum would be proud of you. I know it.’

Before he could react, before she could throw caution to the winds and kiss him properly, she rubbed his cheek
to get rid of the light gloss of pink she’d left behind, then shimmied back along towards the limo door, which Jonny had pulled open.

Olivia stretched out her hand to Adam. ‘Let’s go,’ she said.

They emerged from the sleek black car into the swarm of fashionistas who thronged the environs of Somerset House, home to London’s Fashion Week. The crowd of assorted styles and bursts of colour
had Olivia swivelling and turning, feeling ideas sparking from the incredible array of combinations and patterns.

But through it all—down the red carpet that led to the enormous domed marquee, even as she smiled the smile and walked the walk for the camera—the thought of Adam filled her mind. His ripple of nerves as he’d practised his speech had moved her, shifted something deep within her.

As they left the crisp cold of the February evening to enter the marquee Olivia caught her breath. ‘It’s spectacular,’ she murmured.

The canvas walls were lit by the bounce and eddy of multi-coloured lights in all different shades of blue that created a magical aquamarine display reminiscent of a fairyland. Garlands looped the ceiling and the ticket-holding guests were being shown to
seats that held a complimentary goody bag.

‘I’d better go and make sure everything is going to plan behind the scenes,’ Adam said.

Olivia nodded. ‘I’ll stay here. I don’t want to cause Candice to have a last-minute meltdown.’

‘You sure?’

‘I’m sure. Truly, Adam. Please don’t worry about me.’ She smoothed her hands down the soft lapels of his jacket, allowed her hands to linger
on the muscular wall of his chest. ‘You’ve got this.’

‘Thank you, Olivia. I appreciate it. Truly.’

For a breathless heartbeat she thought he’d kiss her. Instead he squeezed her hands before releasing her. Turning, he headed backstage.

Heart still thumping, mind whirling, Olivia headed for her seat, picked up the goody bag and looked inside. An ornate card gave her a free stay in
any Masterson Hotel, inclusive of travel, complimentary spa time, meals and drinks. A mini bottle of champagne stood alongside an expensive designer body spray.

And there in the corner nestled a tissue-wrapped package with her name scrawled on it—surely in Adam’s handwriting? Olivia unwrapped the light blue folds and pulled out a delicate silver charm bracelet. A surreptitious glance around
showed that no one else sported anything similar on their wrist.

Surprise and appreciation lodged deep in her chest as she saw the shape of the charm dangling from the chain. It was a wardrobe: an exact copy of her company’s logo. A miniature wardrobe, complete with arms and legs.

Who knew how he’d got one made so fast? She’d only told him about Working Wardrobes that morning.

She clasped the silver chain around her wrist as the lights changed to illuminate the stand at the head of the catwalk. Conversation slowly cascaded away into an expectant silence as Adam and his co-host, Fenella Jowinski, a famous model of yesteryear, emerged from the shadows into the spotlight.

Following a short, pithy speech from Fenella, Adam stepped up to the microphone and Olivia clenched
her hands together as she willed him good luck vibes. Not that it would be possible for anyone to guess he was nervous, the slight whitening of his knuckles as they clasped the edge of the podium the only clue. Otherwise his body was relaxed, his voice even and melodious without a hitch or a hint of edge.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, and everyone else in the audience, I’d like to thank you all
for being here today to support a cause that is very dear to me.’

Here Adam paused, his eyes scanning the crowded chairs and resting for a moment on Olivia.

‘I had a speech all prepared—a speech full of statistics and stories and leaps in medical advances. It was a great speech, and I spent a very long time writing it. However, thanks to some words said to me just moments before my arrival
here I’ve changed my mind. Someone said to me that my mother would be proud of me. I hope with all my heart that that is true. So, before we get down to the business of fashion and let loose the wonderful, dedicated women who will model some amazing creations, I would like to tell you about my mother—the wonderful woman who shaped my life for eight years.’

Olivia stilled. Only eight years?
That meant Adam would have been just a child when his mother died.

Pressing her lips together to hold back a gasp of empathetic pain, she leant forward, wanting to hear every word.

‘Maria Jonson was truly beautiful, inside and out. She had the capability of bringing joy and light to a room with the power of her smile. A single mother who gifted me a carefree childhood, she loved life
and lived every precious second of hers to the full. She didn’t have a glamorous job—she worked in an accounts department—but she had an imagination that soared.’

Olivia’s heart twisted with pain as Adam painted a picture of a brave, wonderful, ordinary woman. A woman who’d sung and danced and read him stories. One who’d loved movies and spending time curled up under a duvet with her son
and a bowl of popcorn. A woman who had collected so many knick-knacks and souvenirs of her life that their small house had overflowed.

A woman who had suddenly contracted myeloma and three months later passed away.

‘I watched her get weaker, I watched her suffer, but right to the very end she gave me love. And that is why I am standing here today—because I want this disease to be stopped.
So that it no longer can claim any more wonderful, ordinary, beautiful women like Maria Jonson. My mother. A woman who deserves to be remembered. I hope wherever she is now she is proud of me, as I am still proud of her.’

You could have heard the proverbial pin drop as Adam stepped down, and Olivia marvelled at what he had done. He had brought his mother’s memory to life and he’d done so
without being maudlin or displaying an ounce of self-pity.

Compassion and grief cloaked her at the thought of an eight-year-old Adam whose whole life had been wrenched topsy-turvy, desolated by the loss of the person who had meant everything to him. And for it to have happened so fast... He must have been terrified, alone, hurt and angry at fate.

Questions swirled around her mind—where
had Zeb been? Not once in his speech had Adam even mentioned his father.

‘Well, hell. I never knew
any
of that.’

Olivia jumped at the deep American drawl coming at her from her left. The large, craggy-featured blond man who must have seated himself whilst she had been deep in reverie gave her a warm smile, his dark blue eyes creasing.

There was no mistaking who it was: Noah Braithwaite—star
of a string of box office hits. Amazing that she hadn’t even noticed his arrival—the man was all about charisma—but her focus, her entire body and mind, had been tuned to Adam.

‘You must be Olivia.’

‘Yes.’ Olivia forced herself to smile and shoved her feet firmly down on the smooth canvas floor of the marquee.

Racing across the catwalk towards Adam was not an option, however hard
her body ached to hold him. He wouldn’t thank her for it. The last thing he needed was for her to make some sort of public display when he had refrained from anything of the sort.

‘I’m Noah. The man your enterprising boyfriend has sacrificed to Candice.’

‘You got your yacht back,’ Olivia pointed out a touch tartly.

‘True. But never fear. Adam’ll skin me of it again next poker night.’
As if seeing her bristle, Noah grinned. ‘Relax, Olivia. I’m teasing you. Adam knows damn well I’d have done it for nothing but the sake of friendship. I’m just hoping Candice isn’t as big a diva as she’s made out to be.’ He winked. ‘Speaking of whom, I’d better go to my allocated seat, where I can best see my three-date woman, or she’ll throw a hissy fit.’

Olivia watched the show in a daze
as models shimmied, sashayed and glided down the catwalk. Silks and satins and tweeds all interweaved in a dazzling display of talent and outrageous ingenuity. But even as she exclaimed in appreciation of the outlandish and the exquisite her gaze kept flickering back to Adam, pulled by a magnetic need to make sure he was all right.

It was a yearning that she had to hold in check until the
end of the show when finally,
finally
, she wended her way through the crowd towards him.

EIGHT

‘Thank goodness
that’s over.’ Adam slid into the glossy limousine after Olivia and expelled a huge sigh. Unaccustomed weariness rolled over him and he flexed his shoulders before leaning back against the padded leather and tugging his tie off.

Two hours of mingling, of accepting condolences and congratulations, and he felt raw. Exposed, even. He’d managed to field the
more personal questions, had tried to speak simply of his mother and the woman he remembered her to have been. Or maybe didn’t remember enough.

‘Do you regret your speech?’

He turned to look at Olivia, her profile silhouetted in the muted light of the car, shadows playing on her beautiful features.

Unease threaded him as he realised how good it had felt to have her by his side.
His disquiet was almost enhanced by his feeling of gratitude when he remembered how she had shielded him where she could, her touch on his arm a balm.

And here he was, waxing lyrical.

The emotional impact of the whole event had quite simply temporarily knocked his perspective off course.

‘No,’ he said. ‘I don’t regret it because I do want her to be remembered.’

‘It can’t have
been easy,’ Olivia said, her voice low, warming him. ‘But you did well, Adam. Really well. Maria
would
have been proud of you. She sounds like an amazing woman and an amazing mum.’ She hesitated, twirling a stray tendril of hair round her finger. ‘It must have been devastating for you when you lost her.’

He could shut her off, could simply say that he didn’t want to talk about it. But to
his own surprise he didn’t mind. Olivia had stood by him all evening and helped him deflect exactly the same comments from strangers.

‘I
was
devastated, and I had no idea how to deal with it. You could say I handled it badly.’

She shifted across the seat, turned so her upper body faced his, the silver of her dress shimmering in the dusky light. ‘I think that’s understandable,’ she said.

‘I was angry,’ he said. So angry he could still feel the heat of it scorch him across the years. He’d been helpless and scared and he’d hated it. ‘Angry with fate, with life. I was even angry with her for dying. For not somehow fighting it. Guess I took it personally.’

‘I don’t think there’s any other way of taking it,’ Olivia said.

He glanced at her. ‘Is that how you took your dad’s
behaviour?’

‘Yes.’ Elegant shoulders hitched. ‘My head tells me that he would have rejected any child. But my heart and soul knows he rejected
me
. Difference is my father had a choice. Your mother didn’t.’

Adam nodded. ‘I know that. I guess I feel bad that back then I was more caught up with what was going to happen to me than caring about everything she’d lost.’ A guilt that had been
enhanced further by Zeb’s arrival. It had taken his mother’s death to bring him what he’d wished for so fervently. The knowledge still soured his gut.

Next to him, Olivia shook her head. ‘Don’t even think about beating yourself up.’

A slender hand touched his arm, a tendril of hair wisped over his cheek and her smell enveloped him.

Close—she was so close—and, damn it, he didn’t
want to talk any more.

Or think any more.

He just wanted to feel.

Her hazel eyes met his, their green flecks glowing in the dimness of the car’s interior as she scanned his expression.

There was no hesitation. In one lithe movement she moved closer to him. Elegant fingers reached up and cupped his jaw. Her fingers were so slight and gentle and yet they branded him. Her touch
glided over his stubble and around to the nape of his neck; the caress jolted desire through his system.

He released the clip that held her hair back and dug his fingers in the glorious silken tresses, angled her face towards him.

Olivia parted her lips and his name escaped into the air—part groan, part entreaty. Shifting closer to her, he lowered his lips to hers. Her scent swirled
round him and he was lost. Caught in a spirally vortex of desire. He could taste the fizz of champagne that lingered on her lips, and when his tongue stroked hers she moaned softly into his mouth, her fingers curling into his shirt.

Closer... He needed her closer. Adam spanned her slender waist with his hands and hoisted her onto his lap, cursing at the constraint caused by the long silver
folds of her dress.

With a murmur of frustration Olivia hitched the shimmering material up around her waist and straddled him, her long, smooth thighs pressing against his. Adam’s now almost painful erection strained at his zipper, pushing against her hot core.

Fingers splayed, he smoothed up the soft bare skin of her thighs and she shivered in response. Her breathing quickened as he
tiptoed his fingers farther up and reached the wispy lace of her knickers.

She was so wet, so responsive. His hips jerked upward and she writhed against him; their movements bordered on being frantic.

Breaking the kiss, she straightened. Magnificent. More beautiful than anything he’d ever seen before. Hair tumbled in wild disarray around her flushed face. Hazel eyes dark with a primal
desire.

‘Adam, please...’ she murmured, her voice ragged.

He slid his finger under the lacy edge of her knickers, desperate to watch her shatter for him.

‘I’m right here.’

And her expression changed. The glow of desire receded and her face leeched of all colour as she stared down at him with a look of sheer horror.

In one awkward movement she twisted from his lap and desperate,
jerky hands pulled the shimmering folds of her dress down her thighs.

She leant back against the seat and lifted her hands to her face. A muffled curse escaped her fingers.

Adam forced his breathing to a regular pattern and tried to calm both his veering heart and his hard-on.

‘Olivia—’ he began.

She shook her head. ‘Please don’t say anything. I’m sorry. And I’m mortified.
And I really want to somehow pretend this didn’t happen.’

‘Again?’ He couldn’t help himself; frustration and confusion roiled inside him. ‘No can do, Olivia. It happened.
Again.
’

‘I’m sorry, Adam. I’m behaving like an idiot.’ She dropped her hands from her face and shifted even farther away from him. ‘Clearly my body is having some sort of hormonal meltdown. But I will not give in to
it. I
hate
this. This attraction. I just want to turn it off.’

Despite himself, he smiled. ‘Attraction doesn’t work like that. You can’t just turn it off.’

‘I can. I have to.’ Her voice vibrated with desperate conviction. ‘Attraction is nothing more than a chemical reaction.’

‘Exactly. And you can’t change chemical reactions.’

‘No, but you can make sure that you don’t drop
the potassium into the water.’

‘Or you can enjoy the explosion,’ he said.

‘And pick up the pieces later? Not my style.’

It wasn’t his, either. The important thing for him in any relationship was mutual short-term enjoyment, after which both parties went their separate ways in—and this was key—one piece. He’d created enough mess to last him a lifetime. A memory of Charlotte’s tearstained
face accosted him and it was all the reminder he needed.

So what the hell was he doing now? Enjoyment did
not
include sharing his feelings about his mother’s death. Talking about Maria to keep her memory alive was one thing; spilling his guts to Olivia was a whole different situation.

And, whilst he had no doubt there would have been plenty of instant and mutual gratification going on
if she hadn’t pulled back, that wasn’t the point. Shock rendered him mute. He hadn’t so much as considered any of his usual rules and regulations—hadn’t even bothered to find out Olivia’s views on relationships.

Way to go, Adam.

So an explosion was a sucky idea, however hard his hard-on was. Olivia Evans had issues. She was emotional dynamite and it was time to get out of the laboratory.
There would be other women, other attractions.
But not like this.
No, not like this—and a damn good thing, too.

‘Not my style, either.’

‘Then we’re agreed,’ she stated. She plunged her hands into the shimmering folds of her dress as she turned to face him. ‘So let’s move on. I’ve done my part of the deal. Now it’s your turn. You need to take me to Zeb.’

‘Ah. Yes. That.’

‘Yes.
That.’ Her eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion. ‘Don’t you
dare
renege on our deal.’

‘I’m not. It’s just a little bit more complicated than I mentioned.’

‘Complicated how?’

‘Zeb’s in Thailand.’

There was a pause as Olivia’s lips, still swollen from his kisses, opened and closed.

‘
Thailand?
He’s thousands of miles away and you didn’t think to mention it?’

Adam felt her
outrage and welcomed it; at least it dissipated the sexual tension that still whispered in the air. Plus, anger was as good an outlet for frustration as any, and he knew that Olivia must be feeling plenty frustrated. She’d pulled herself from the brink of orgasm. Come to that, he wasn’t feeling any too relaxed himself.

Served him right for being so quick off the mark and for letting this
whole situation get out of control.

‘I didn’t see the need,’ he said. ‘I’ll honour my side of the deal. I’ll take you to Thailand.’

‘Just like that?’

‘Sure. It’s a few hours away by plane. We pack. We go.’

‘I can’t just up sticks and fly to Thailand. When’s Zeb coming back?’

Ah. ‘He’s not.’

‘What do you mean? He
lives
in Thailand?’

‘Zeb doesn’t live anywhere.’

Olivia frowned. ‘So he’s like you? Does he live in a hotel?’

The innocent question scraped Adam’s nerves; if only Olivia knew how like his father he was. ‘Zeb’s a modern-day nomad.’

Dismay etched Olivia’s beautiful features; her hazel eyes drenched with disbelief. ‘But he must have a...a base? Somewhere? Give me something here, Adam.’

‘He doesn’t have anything,’ Adam said flatly.
‘No address at all. Zeb believes that bricks and mortar are an unnecessary responsibility. He very rarely stays in the same place for more than a few weeks and he goes wherever the whim carries him.’

‘But where does she leave his things? His possessions?’

‘He carries them with him.’

‘You’re kidding me?’ She bit her lip. ‘It’s not exactly what I was hoping for.’

No doubt she’d
been hoping for the full package: a man who would be happy to have a child, would settle down and play happy families complete with white picket fence.

He pushed down the surge of sympathy; it was better for Olivia to know it as it was. ‘Zeb is a wanderer. He won’t change that for anyone.’ He rubbed a hand over his face. ‘It’s a Masterson trait, Olivia,’ he said, trying to keep the bitterness
from his voice. ‘We don’t do settling down.’

Zeb hadn’t, and Adam certainly hadn’t. He’d tried—hell, he’d tried. He’d married Charlotte with high hopes of that white picket fence for himself. Hopes he’d dashed to the earth a mere two years into the soulless purgatory that settling down had turned out to be. For him. Not for Charlotte. Charlotte had been in her element, nest-building, whilst
the chintz-patterned wallpaper had been closing in on Adam.

‘It’s not possible. But that isn’t the point. Nomad or not, he still needs to be told about the baby. So we’d better get ourselves to Thailand.’ Sort this fiasco out, then life could return to normal.

‘It’s not that easy.’

‘Sure it is. Leave it to me,’ Adam said as the limo glided to a stop outside the imposing front of
his Mayfair hotel.

* * *

The deep throb of the aeroplane’s engines reverberated in Olivia’s ears. Just twenty-four hours later and she was on her way to Thailand. Ko Lanta, to be precise. Excitement surfaced as she looked down at her tablet, where a glorious picture of a white sandy beach evoked relaxation. According to the blurb, the island was a veritable paradise—a scenic miasma of
forest, hill, and coral-rimmed beaches.

Unfortunately Olivia wasn’t going to Ko Lanta to admire the verdant beauty of the island or to absorb the sun’s brilliant rays. Her remit was to meet with Zeb. Yet the anticipation refused to recede completely, still fizzed defiantly in her tummy. Worst of all, she had the feeling that the reason for its existence wasn’t the hotness of her destination—it
was more to do with the hotness of her travelling companion.

She eyed Adam across the aisle of the private jet and felt heat seep into her skin; embarrassment still fresh over the whole crazy hot-and-heavy interlude in his limo. The only saving grace was that she’d stopped it. On the verge of what had promised to be the mother of all orgasms.

Yay. Nice timing, Liv.

Served her right.
Shame twisted her tummy at the memory of herself straddling him in the back of a car, Adam’s hand up her skirt, the plea in her voice as she’d begged him for release.

Double yay!

This whole overwhelming attraction was so confusing. All she’d wanted to offer Adam was solace—not a quickie in the back of his car. Mind you, looking at him now, she had no idea how she had dared even to offer
him comfort, let alone anything else. The past few hours Adam had been utterly unapproachable, a veritable machine of efficiency while she’d run around sorting out cover for her work for a week. But the man who had confided in her, the man who had kissed her senseless and nearly robbed her of every last vestige of control had vanished.

Which was a
good
thing.

The sigh she emitted was
way too loud; Adam looked up from his laptop.

‘Is there something you need?’

‘Nope. I’m fine.’

‘Good.’

His attention was diverted straight back to the screen and a thoroughly irrational annoyance sparked inside her. If he’d deigned to tell her more about Zeb a little bit earlier instead of clinging to his stupid belief that she was a billionaire-bagger, maybe she might have
had more time to prepare for this trip. Plus, how come he got to sit there all cool and collected whilst she sat here reliving the scene in the limo?