His Until Midnight (10 page)

Oliver finished his dish way ahead of Audrey. She stalled, wiping up every drop, using it as a chance to cool things off as much as the ginger had. One part of her hungered for more of the physical sensation she’d enjoyed before the food came. Exactly as stimulating as the gastronomic marathon they were undertaking. But another part—the sensible, logical part—knew that there was much more going on with her than just Oliver’s desire for some activity of the
athletic
kind.

And
more than
was a big mental shift to be making in one day. Particularly when she’d come here today all ready to say goodbye.

To cut off her supply.

‘I think maybe we should head back downstairs,’ she murmured.

That surprised him. ‘Now?’

She folded her napkin neatly and placed it next to her licked-clean plate on the expensive table. ‘I think so.’

‘Safety in numbers, Audrey?’

‘What happened before was—’
amazing, unprecedented, unforgettable
‘—compelling, but I don’t think we should necessarily pick up where we left off.’

It was too dangerous.

‘You seemed as
compelled
as I was. Can you just walk away from it?’

‘I... Yes. The timing is all wrong.’

‘We’re both single. We’re alone in an executive suite looking out over one of the world’s most beautiful views. We have the whole evening ahead of us. And it’s Christmas. How could the timing be better?’

His knowing eyes saw way too much. Like just how much of a liar she was. ‘I just learned my husband was cheating on me...’ she hedged.

‘I assumed you’d slipped into revenge sex mode.’

‘You think me that much of a user?’

‘Are you still a us
er
if the us
ee
is fully aware of what you’re doing? I’d be delighted to be exploited for any revenge activity whatsoever.’ He held his hands out to the side. ‘Do your worst.’

Impossible man. And impossible to know if he was serious or joking, or some complicated combination of the two. ‘That wouldn’t be particularly mature, Oliver.’

‘Sometimes the body knows better than the brain what it really wants. Or needs.’

‘You think I
need
a good roll in the hay?’ Did she strike him as that uptight?

‘Who says I’m talking about you?’

Oh, please.
‘Like you didn’t have sex twice this week already.’

‘I did not.’

‘Then last week.’

He stared at her. Infuriatingly unabashed.

‘Earlier in the month, then.’

‘Nope.’

The mere concept of a celibate Oliver was fascinating. But she wasn’t going to allow even intrigue. ‘Well, that explains today’s detour from the norm. You’re horny.’

‘Any detour we take today—’ she didn’t fail to notice his use of the future tense ‘—won’t be due to lack of self-control on my part.’

‘So bloody cocky,’ she muttered, pulling the dishes together into an easy-to-collect pile for the hotel staff. ‘And presumptuous if you think I lack self-discipline.’

It was another of the virtues she was prepared to own.

‘Far from it. The moment I let you shore up your resolve, I’m screwed. You’ll set your mind to leaving and I’ll never see you again.’

A raw kind of tragedy lurked behind his eyes. ‘So...you’re keeping me off kilter, just to be safe?’

‘Trying to.’

Huh. It was working. ‘How is confessing that going to help your cause?’

‘I’m trying something new. Something that goes against everything my instincts tell me.’

She narrowed her eyes at him.

‘Honesty.’

‘You’re always honest with me.’

‘I don’t lie. That’s not the same as being honest. There’s a lot I don’t say, rather than have to lie to you.’

‘Like not telling me about Blake?’

‘Like not telling you how badly I want you every time I see you.’

Air shot into her lungs in a short, sharp gasp.

‘That’s right, Audrey. Every single time. And it’s not going to go away just because you refuse to think about it.’

Her chest pressed in on itself. ‘I assume you don’t want to go back downstairs?’

‘I do not.’ His gaze was resolute. ‘We’re too close.’

‘Close to what?’

‘Close to everything I’ve wanted for years.’

Wanted.
Her, on a plate. It was still too inconceivable to trust. ‘Regardless of what I want?’

‘If I thought you didn’t want it I’d be holding the door open for you right now and calling up the elevator.’

A fist squeezed around her larynx.

‘But you do. You just need to let yourself have it.’ He glowered down on her. ‘And believe you deserve it.’

She curled her arms around the sensual silk of her loaned dress and remembered instantly how much better his arms had felt doing the same thing just minutes ago.
Deserve it?
Did he know what he was asking her to set aside? Years of careful, safe emotional shielding?

Of course she wanted to sleep with him. It seemed stupidly evident to her. But
dare
she? Could she do it and not be crippled by old doubts? Could she do it and not want more? Because he wasn’t offering
more
. He was offering
now
.

And right now she had allure working very much in her favour.

‘The Audrey of your imagination must be spectacular,’ she whispered, enjoying the solar flare that erupted in his smouldering gaze. ‘But, seriously, what if I’m just ordinary?’

Or worse. Was that something she could bear him knowing?

He stepped closer and slid his big hand around her cheek. ‘Honey, I’m that keyed up I may not even notice what you’re doing.’

A choked kind of laugh rattled through her. Bless Oliver Harmer and his gift for putting her at ease. ‘You’re supposed to say, “You couldn’t possibly be, Audrey”.’

‘You
couldn’t
possibly be, Audrey,’ he repeated, all seriousness. ‘But I’m done enabling you. If you want to know for sure you’re going to have to take a step. Take a risk.’ He lowered his hand between them and stretched it towards her, his eyes blazing but steady. ‘And take my hand.’

She stared at those long, talented, certain fingers. No trembling now.

If she slid her own in between them she was changing her life, going boldly where she’d never gone before.

A one-night stand.

Sex with Oliver.

That couldn’t be undone. And it probably wouldn’t be repeated; after all, they only saw each other once a year and a lot could change in twelve months.

Revenge sex
, he’d joked. But was it so very funny? She certainly had enough to feel vengeful for. She’d wasted years being modest and appropriate and not throwing herself across the table at a scrumptious Oliver every year out of loyalty to a man who was betraying everything she’d ever stood for. Who couldn’t wait for her to leave the country so he could express the man he really wanted to be.

Wasn’t she due a little bit of payback?

And wouldn’t that moment when Oliver strained over her just as he had in her most secret fantasies...wouldn’t
that moment
undo everything that had gone before it? Wouldn’t she be reborn?

Like a phoenix out of the ashes of her ridiculous, restrained life.

His fingers twitched, just slightly, out there all alone in the gulf of inches between them and the simple movement softened her heart.

This wasn’t sleazy. This wasn’t some kind of set-up or test and there wasn’t a bunch of schoolgirls waiting to slam her up against the bathroom wall for daring to reach.

This was Oliver.

And
he
was reaching for
her.

She lifted her eyes, fastened them to his cautious hazel depths and slid her fingers carefully between his.

TEN

Lavender-cured crocodile, watermelon fennel salad served with a lime emulsion

‘Again?’

Audrey’s beautiful, sweat-slicked chest rose and fell right in Oliver’s peripheral vision as she sprawled, wild and indelicate, across his bed, eyeing him lasciviously.

His laugh strangled deep in his throat. ‘I won’t be doing it again for a little bit, love.’

‘Really? You’re not a three-times-a-night kind of guy?’

He rolled over and stared at her. ‘Have you never heard of recovery? Any man who can go three times in a row didn’t do it thoroughly the first time.’

And she’d been done
extremely
thoroughly.

The second time, anyway.

Their first time had been hot, and hard and slick and they didn’t even make it off the sumptuous sofa. He’d been joking about being so keyed up, but it had taken a gargantuan effort on his part to keep things at a pace that wouldn’t scare her off forever.

Or shame him.

The second time they’d turned nomad; roaming from surface to surface, view to view, stretching out the torture, exploring and learning the geography of each other’s bodies, knocking vases off tables and sending light fittings swinging. He’d been determined to make a slightly better—and lengthier—showing than the almost adolescent fumblings on the sofa, and Audrey had risen to the challenge like the goddess she was, matching him move for move, touch for touch.

Until they’d finally collapsed in a heap on the penthouse’s luxurious master bed where he really got to show her how he’d earned his nickname.

He rolled his exhausted head towards her. ‘You were kidding, right?’

‘Hell, yes. I’m numb.’

There we go...
That was what a man liked to hear. He flipped his arm with the last remnants of energy he had and patted her unceremoniously on her perfect, naked bottom.

‘Take that, Blake,’ she said, after the giggles had subsided.

Audrey giggling. Wasn’t that one of the heralds of the apocalypse?

‘Hell hath no fury...’ But it wasn’t about vengeance, he knew that. This was much more fundamental.

‘It wasn’t me,’ she whispered to the ceiling. And to every demon still haunting her.

He gave her a gentle shove with his own damp shoulder. ‘Told you.’

‘Yeah, you did.’

‘Do you believe me now?’

‘Yeah.’ She sighed. ‘I do.’

Then more silence.

Oliver studied the intricate plasterwork above them and mulled over words he’d never needed—or wanted—to utter. Found himself inexplicably nervous and utterly shamed of his own cowardice.

So...now what happens?

That was what he wanted to know. Half dreading and half breathless with anticipation at the answer. Because this—what they’d just shared—would be a crime to walk away from. He’d just had his deepest desire handed to him on a plate. Writhing under him.

Yet, he didn’t do long-term. He didn’t dare. Would he even know how? He’d lost years waiting for a woman with the right combination of qualities to come along. Goodness and curiosity and brilliance and elegance and wild, unbridled sensuality all bundled into one goddess.

He just wasn’t going to find a woman on the planet better suited to being his.

Which meant he could
have
this remarkable gift that the universe had provided, but he couldn’t
keep
it.

Because Audrey was far too precious to risk on someone as damaged as him.

Sex changed people. Women especially. Women like Audrey doubly especially. She wasn’t a virgin, but he’d put good money on tonight being the first good sexual experience she’d had—again that sad, needy little troll deep inside him waved its club-fists triumphantly—and transformative experiences tended to make women start thinking of the future. Planning.

And he didn’t do futures. He just couldn’t.

There was more than one way of cheating in a relationship. He might never have been actually unfaithful to any of the women he’d been involved with, but he’d been false with every single one of them by not telling them they weren’t measuring up to the bar set by a woman they’d never meet. By not telling them that what was between them was only ever going to be superficial.

By not telling them he wasn’t in it for keeps.

He could dress it up whatever way he wanted—persevering, giving them a chance, getting to know one another—but the reality was from the moment he first realised they weren’t the one, the rest of their time together was one big cheat.

As unfaithful and as unkind as his father. To every single one of them.

And so he’d come to specialise in short-term. He reserved his longest relationships for women who didn’t change from first date to last. Predictable women who weren’t looking for more. They got entire months.

Audrey wasn’t the sort of woman you just kissed and farewelled after a few hot weeks. Look at the lengths he’d already gone to not to farewell her
at all
.

Audrey was someone he cared about deeply. And what happened from here was going to be critical to her remaining someone he was allowed to care deeply about. Because not caring for her was simply not an option. He couldn’t even imagine it.

But using her—hurting her—wasn’t going to work, either. He’d grown up witness to what it did to a woman to be in a relationship with a man incapable of loving just her.

It rotted her slowly from the inside out.

Bad enough imagining Audrey decaying in her sham of a marriage, but to think of himself being responsible for it... Watching her eyes getting dimmer and dimmer as he emotionally checked out of their relationship.

As he always did.

No. That was not something he was prepared to do to a woman he considered perfection. Who he actually cared for. Who he might love if he had any idea what the hell that meant.

And given his genetic make-up, the chances of him finding out any time soon weren’t high.

But lying here drowning in
what-ifs
wasn’t going to get them anywhere. Better to get it out in the open. Talk it through. Deal with whatever angst came.

Just ask!

‘So what happens now?’ he ground out. The longest four words of his life.

‘Depends on what time it is.’

Okay. Uh,
not
what he was expecting. He craned his neck to check his TAG. ‘Coming up to six p.m.’

Which meant she’d been here for eight hours already.

She rolled over, folding her arms under her as she went and boosting her breasts up into tantalising pillows. ‘We still have half a degustation to enjoy.’

The little troll’s fists fell limply by his side. She was thinking about food? While he was lying here doing a great impersonation of an angsty fourteen-year-old? ‘Really? This hasn’t been an adequate substitute?’

Her Mona Lisa smile gave nothing away. ‘You said yourself we need to recharge. Might as well stretch our legs and eat while we do that.’

Stretch their legs. As if they’d just had a busy afternoon at their desks. He studied her for signs of weirdness—more than the usual amount—but found none. Her eyes were clear and untroubled.

‘You’re actually hungry?’ Oh, my God, she actually was.

Audrey Devaney might just be the perfect woman.

‘Ravenous,’ she purred. “That was quite a workout.’

No wonder he adored her. ‘You want to be served up here?’

A hint of shadow crossed her expression. ‘No. Let’s go back downstairs.’ But then she sagged and her warm lips fell against the cooling sweat of his shoulder. ‘In just a minute or two.’

* * *

She was pretty hungry but, more than anything, Audrey wanted to walk back into this public restaurant with Oliver.

With
Oliver.

Just for the sheer pleasure of doing it. Nothing but her dress had changed for the restaurant patrons or the staff because most of them probably assumed she and Oliver were already sleeping together. But
she’d
changed.
She
would know what it was like to have the best sex of her life with a man like Oliver Harmer, right over their very heads, and then casually stroll back in for the next course.

It was more decadent a sensation than if they’d served her palate cleanser smeared on Oliver’s naked torso.

She stumbled over that image slightly and the fingers curled around hers tightened.

‘Okay?’

She threw her gratitude sideways on a breathy acknowledgement. Lord, when had she become so...Marilyn Monroe?

She glanced awkwardly to the other tables for a half-heartbeat. Did she look like a woman who was quite accustomed to having exquisite sex between courses?
Could
she look like that? And it was, hands down, the best sex she’d ever had. With her husband. With anyone else. Even on her own. Her body was still swollen and sensitive and really, really pleased with itself.

What if she looked as smug as she felt?

‘Are you sure you’re okay?’

‘I don’t know what the etiquette is,’ she admitted, dragging her focus back to their private little corner by the dragonflies as they approached. Were the insects this vivid and lively before or was everything just super-sensory right now?

‘To what?’

‘To walking into a room after our...bonus course.’

His chuckle eased a little of her nerves. ‘I don’t think there are any rules for that. You’re going to have to wing it.’

‘I feel—’
transformed
‘—conspicuous.’

‘If people are looking at you it’s because of the dress, Audrey.’

Right. Not some tattoo on her forehead that said, ‘Guess where she’s just had her mouth.’

She sank, on instinct, towards her comfortable sofa and Oliver tugged on their still-entwined fingers as he kept moving.

Oh.
Together.

How odd that—despite everything they’d done with each other and been to each other over the past hours—it was
this
that felt taboo. Like crossing over to the dark side. She joined Oliver on his sofa, facing the other way for the first time in five years, while he scanned her for the first sign of trouble.

She must look as if she was ready to bolt from the room.

She stretched, cat-like, back into his sofa. ‘This is quite comfortable, too.’

‘I’ve always liked it.’

Her bottom wriggle dug her a little deeper. ‘I think you had the better end of the deal, actually.’

‘I would definitely say so, today.’

Sweet.

Terrifying...but sweet.

Oliver did little more than flick his chin at a passing server and the man reappeared a moment later with two glasses of chilled white wine. Audrey smiled her thanks before sweeping her glass up and turning her attention again to the busy dragonflies in the tank that usually sat behind her, and, through its glass sides, the bustling kitchen on the far side of the restaurant.

‘I always thought you were terribly sophisticated, knowing the timing of everything in a Michelin-starred restaurant,’ she murmured. ‘But you were cheating. You can see them coming.’

‘It seems it’s a night for exposing secrets.’

That brought her eyes back to his. ‘Yes indeed.’

‘Do you want to talk about it?’

It
.

‘I don’t want to ruin it.’ Or jinx it. ‘But I don’t want you to think I’m avoiding conversation, either.’

‘Would you like to talk about something else?’

Desperately. ‘What?’

He cupped his wine and leaned back into the corner of the sofa more comfortably. ‘Tell me about the Testore.’

The instruments she hunted were certainly something she could get excited about. And talk about until his ears bled. ‘What would you like to know?’

‘How was it stolen?’

‘Directly from the cabin of a commercial airline between Helsinki and Madrid, while the owner used the washrooms.’

‘In front of a plane full of people?’

‘The cabin was darkened. But Testores get their own seat when they fly so it’s unusual that no one saw it being removed. Someone would have had to lean right over into the window seat.’

‘Wow, it’s that valuable? How did they get it off the plane without being seen?’

‘No one knows. We have to assume one of the ground crew was paid off. The plane’s cabin security picked up a shadow lingering by the seats and taking it but it was too dark to identify even gender. And short of paying for a seat for the instrument
and
one for a bodyguard I’m not sure what the owner could have done differently. She had to pee. They searched the plane top to bottom.’

The public areas, anyway.

‘So how did you begin tracking it down?’

This was what she did. This was what she loved. It wasn’t hard to relax and bore Oliver senseless with the details of her hunt for the cello.

Except that he didn’t bore easily, clearly. Forty minutes later he was still engaged and asking questions. She’d kicked off her shoes again and tucked her feet up under her, feeling very much the Chinese waif in her silken sheath, helping herself to finger-sized portions of the crocodile and watermelon that was course number seven.

‘Can you talk about all of this? Legally?’ Oliver queried.

‘I haven’t told you anything confidential. It’s all process.’ She smiled. ‘Plus I think I can trust you.’

His eyes refocused sharply, as if he had something to say about that, but then he released her from his fixed gaze and reached, instead, to trace the line of her arm with a knuckle. ‘Your patience amazes me. And that you’re so close to finding it when you started with practically nothing.’

Oh, he had no idea how patient she could be. Just look how long she’d endured her feelings for him. Or how long she could endure his tantalising touch before shattering.

Apparently.

‘It’s taken all year but we’re just one step behind them now. The plan is to get ahead and then we have them. The authorities just have to wait for them to deliver it up.’

‘Why don’t these people just take it and go to ground for a decade? Put it in a basement somewhere? Hoard it?’

‘Criminals aren’t that patient for their money and, besides, their industry is full of loose lips. You steal something like a Testore and don’t keep it moving and one of your colleagues is just as likely to steal it out from under you.’