Harlequin KISS August 2014 Bundle (47 page)

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because.’

‘Because why?’

‘Caleb doesn’t want her there.’

‘Is that the only reason? Because I can talk to Caleb.’

‘It’s the only reason you’re going to get.’

Sunshine gave him a bemused look. ‘Is this because you used to
date her? You know, I’m good friends with
all
my
exes.’

‘I, however,
am not.’

‘Why not?’

Leo scooped up a spoonful of gelato. Ate it. ‘I just don’t do
that.’

‘Why not?’

‘They’re just not that...that kind.’

‘Kind?’

‘Kind of person. People. Not the kind of people I’m friends
with.’

She nodded wisely. ‘You’re choosing wrong.’

He took another mouthful of gelato. Said nothing.

‘Because you don’t want someone, really,’
she said. ‘You’re
like me.’ Sunshine tapped her heart. ‘No room in here.’

Leo’s spoon clattered into his bowl. ‘I’ve got room. Plenty.
But I want...’ He stopped, looking confused.

‘You want...?’

‘Someone...special.’

‘Special as in...?’

‘As in someone to throw myself off the cliff for, leap into the
abyss with,’ he said, sounding goaded. ‘There! Are you happy?’

‘My happiness is not the issue here.’

He dragged a hand over his head. Gave a short, surprised laugh.
‘I want all or nothing.’

‘And Natalie didn’t?’

‘She wanted...the illusion. She wanted the illusion of it
without the depth.’

‘Oh.’

‘Yes—
oh
.’

‘Not that I think there’s anything wrong with not wanting the
depth.’

‘Of
course
there’s something
wrong
with it,’ he said with asperity. ‘You’re wrong about the whole no-room,
sex-not-love thing.’

‘Each to his or her own,’ Sunshine said. ‘And I still don’t see
why Natalie can’t perform at the reception. You wouldn’t even have to talk to
her. I could do the negotiations.’

He snorted.

‘Why the snort?’

‘Forget it.’

‘I am
not
going to forget it.

‘Look—’ He stopped, shot a hand across his scalp again. ‘No, I
don’t want to go there.’

‘Well, I do!’

‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ Leo looked at her, exasperated. ‘Natalie
is a bunny-boiler, okay? She would not settle for negotiating with you—she’d be
aiming for me. Always,
always
me. Got it?’

Sunshine sat back in her seat. Stared.
‘No!’

‘Yes!’

‘But...why?’

‘How the hell do I know why? I only know the what—like eating
at one of my restaurants every week. Driving my staff nuts with questions about
me. Sending me stuff. So just leave it, Sunshine. I know another singer. Her
name’s Kate. I’ll give you some CDs to listen to.’

‘Is she an ex?’

‘No. She’s just a good singer with no agenda.’

Sunshine sighed inwardly but admitted
defeat. ‘Fair enough.’
She stretched her arms over her head and arched her back. ‘
Mmm.
Next time maybe you should teach me how to make paella. I love
paella.’

‘One problem with that plan,’ Leo said. ‘I am never entering a
kitchen with you again.’

‘Oh, that’s mean.’

‘Think of the poor tomatoes.’

‘What was wrong with the tomatoes?’

‘Other than the fact that
they looked like blood-spatter from a
crime scene?’

Sunshine bit her lip against a gurgle of laughter. ‘What about
the prosciutto? I managed to tear that the way you showed me.’

‘Flayed flesh.’

‘Ouch,’ Sunshine said, but she was laughing. ‘What about how I
scooped the gelato?’

‘Please! Like ooze from a wound.’

‘It’s a good thing I don’t have any coffee,
or we’d be up to
poison.’

‘Since I didn’t see an espresso machine in that shell of a
kitchen, poison sounds about right.’

Rolling her eyes, Sunshine pushed her chair back from the
table. ‘Well, then, I will make you some tea—something all well-bred hippies
can
do. Unless you have some words to throw at
me about scalded skin. The invitation is on the coffee table,
waiting for your
approval, so why don’t you check it out while I clear up? Something
else
I can do.’

She watched from the corner of her eye as Leo moved to the
couch, sat, reached for the invitation.

He was smiling—full-on!—as he slid the pad of his thumb so
gently across the card, as though it were something precious. Oh, he did look
good when he smiled. It was kind
of crooked, with the left side lifting up
further than the right. A little rusty. And it just got her—
bang!
— right in the chest.

Fried bat, anyone?

Tearing her eyes away, Sunshine finished making the tea.

‘So! Is it okay?’ she asked, sliding two mugs onto the coffee
table and sitting beside Leo.

He turned to her, smiled again.
Heaven!

‘It’s great. The calligraphy
too.’

‘I guess the next step is to discuss the menu.’

Leo picked up his mug. ‘I’m going with a seafood bias, given
the location.’

‘Uncanny! Exactly what I was thinking.’

‘Canapés to start. Local oysters, freshly shucked clams served
ceviche-style, poached prawns with aioli, and hand-milked Yarra Valley caviar
with
crème fraîche
.’

‘Ohhhhh...’

‘Buffalo
mozzarella and semi-dried tomato on croutons,
honey-roasted vegetable tartlets, and mini lamb and feta kofta’

‘Mmm...’

‘Just champagne, beer, and sparkling water—we don’t need to get
too fancy with the drinks to start. But any special requirements we can
accommodate on request.’

‘Good, because Jon’s mother will insist on single malt
whisky—and through
every
course.
Nothing
we say ever dissuades her.’

‘Well, it’s better than a line of coke with every course.’

She gaped at him. ‘Line of...?’

‘Natalie,’ he said shortly. ‘Another reason she will not be
performing at the wedding. Just to be absolutely clear.’

‘That’s...’ She waved a hand, lost.

‘Anyway, moving on. The first course will be calamari, very
lightly battered and
deep fried, served with a trio of dipping sauces—lime and
coriander, smoked jalapeno mayonnaise, and a sweet plum sauce.’

‘Oh, Leo, could you teach me how to make that at least?’

‘No. The main meal will be lobster, served with a lemon butter
sauce and a variety of salads that I wouldn’t dare describe to you.’

‘Lobster! Oh.’ She took a sip of tea. ‘You know, Leo, I saw
the
most intriguing thing about lobsters on the internet.’

‘Yes?’ He sounded wary.

‘They are actually immortal! They stay alive until they get
eaten.’

‘That can’t be true.’

‘Which means coming back as a lobster in the next life wouldn’t
be such a bad thing. Except...’ Nose-wrinkle. ‘Well, I’m not sure that when
they’re caught they’re always killed humanely.
So you might be lucky enough to
live for ever—or you might get thrown into a pot of boiling water and be
absolutely screaming, without even having the ability to make a sound, because
some sadistic cook couldn’t be bothered to kill you first.’

Leo gave a sigh brimming with long suffering. ‘Okay—barramundi
it is,’ he said. ‘Coated with lemon and caper butter and wrapped
in pancetta,
served with in-season asparagus.’

‘That sounds divine. And so much more humane.’

‘I am
not
a lobster sadist,’ Leo
said, sounding as if he were gritting his teeth.

‘Well, of course not.’

There was the tic. ‘And they are not immortal.’

‘Well, they might be—who would know? And they can, a hundred
per cent, live to about one hundred and forty years.
Which is
almost
immortal.’

He regarded her through narrowed eyes. ‘How is it you’ve made
it to twenty-five without being murdered?’

‘You’re definitely watching too many crime shows.’

‘Dessert,’ he said firmly. ‘I’m thinking about figs.’

‘Figs. Oh.’ Sip of tea.

‘“Figs oh”
what
? Is this the fruit
version of your vegetarian hang-up? Because there
will
be sugar,
you know.’

‘It’s not th— Actually, it
is
partly that. But, more to the point, I think fig pollination is kind of
disgusting.’

He had that fascinated look going on.

‘Wasps,’ she said.

‘Wasps?’

‘They burrow into the fig and lay their eggs in the fruit, then
die in there.
Ergh
. And it’s quite brutal, because
on the way in the poor wasp can lose her wings
and her antennae—it’s a tight
fit, I guess. Come on—you have to agree that’s a bit repulsive. And sad
too.’

Leo had closed his eyes. Tic, tic, tic.

A moment passed. Another. He opened his eyes and looked at her.
‘So, we’ll serve a variation on the glacé I made for you at Q Brasserie—perhaps
with a rose syrup base. And, because it’s a wedding, some Persian confetti.’

Sunshine beamed at him. ‘That’s just perfect.’

‘And remember I know your modus operandi, Sunshine
Smart-Ass.’

‘But I don’t have one of those!’

Leo simply put up the ‘stop’ hand. ‘For the non-seafood-lovers
there will be ricotta tortellini with burnt-sage butter sauce as an alternative
first course, and either chargrilled lime and mint chicken or a Moroccan-style
chickpea tagine for your fellow commune dwellers for the main course.’

‘Oh, even the chickpea thing sounds good. Because chickpeas are
sort of like the meat of vegetables, don’t you think?’

‘No, I don’t.’

‘What about the cake?’

‘Four options: traditional fruit cake, salted caramel—which we
can do with either a chocolate or butterscotch base—or coconut.’

‘Oh!
Oh!
Could we do one of those
cake-tasting things? You know, where you sit around and try before you buy? I
would
so
love to do a cake-tasting.’

‘For the love of God, can’t we just ask the guys what they
want?’

‘What would be the fun in that?’ Sunshine asked, mystified.

Leo ran that hand over his head. ‘I’ll talk to Anton—he’s my
pâtissier
.’

‘And I have
the most amazing idea for the decoration. Kind of
Art Deco—my current favourite thing. Square tiers, decorated with hand-cut
architectural detailing, in white and shades of grey, with painted silver
accents. Wait a moment—I’ve got a photo.’

Sunshine leapt off the couch and raced into her office, grabbed
the photo and raced back out. ‘What do you think?’ she asked, thrusting
it at
him.

But Leo was looking past her into the office.

She’d forgotten to close the door.

‘Oh,’ she said, seeing through his eyes the green-striped
wallpaper, the reproduction antique furniture painted in vivid blues, reds, and
yellows, the framed prints of lusciously coloured shoes through the ages hung on
the walls.

The urn with Moonbeam’s ashes. In
his direct line of sight.

Oh, no!
Sunshine raced back to
close the door.

‘So!’ she said, her heart beating hard as she came back to sit
beside him. ‘So! The cake.’

‘I’ll talk to Anton,’ Leo said absently, still looking at the
closed door.

Sunshine decided drastic action was needed—just to make sure he
didn’t ask to actually go in there.

Going with gut
feeling—and, all right, secret desire—she hugged
him.

He seemed to freeze for a moment, and then his arms came around
her. He gathered her in for one moment. She heard, felt him inhale slowly.

Wow!
He was actually touching her!
Voluntarily! Except that this wasn’t exactly touching—it was more. Better!
Absorbing! He was absorbing her! Talk about exclamation mark overload!

His arms were so hard. So was his chest. It should have felt
like being pulled against a brick wall...and yet there was something yielding
about him. His hand came up, touched the back of her head, fingers sliding into
her hair.

Good. But Sunshine wanted more. Much more.

She pulled out of his arms, sat back, looked at him. ‘I don’t
know how you’re going to take
this, Leo,’ she said, ‘but I want to have sex with
you.’

FIVE

Leo stared.
Couldn’t so much as blink.

A minute ticked by.

She was waiting for him to speak, her head tilted—the curious bird look.

Had he heard correctly?

Had Sunshine Smart just told him, taking matter-of-factness to the level of an art form, that she wanted to have
sex
with him? And that she didn’t know how he’d
take
that confession?

‘What did you
just say?’ he asked at last, and his voice sounded as though he hadn’t used it for a month.

‘Just that I want to have sex with you.’ Sunshine pursed her lips, considering him. ‘Are you shocked? Horrified? Appalled? Because you don’t look interested.’

‘Gary. Ben. Marco.’ He listed them without elaborating.

‘Gary, Ben and Marco?’ she said, as though she had no idea what he was getting
at.

‘How many lovers do you need?’

She gave him an
Aha!
kind of look, then said simply, ‘Okay, I’ll tell you. I’m not sleeping with any of them. I’m not sleeping with anyone. I
hoped
there would be a spark with Gary, but it never developed. Ben? Twice. But that’s ancient history, and we won’t talk about his addiction to cheesy love songs in the bedroom.’

Momentary distraction. ‘
Ben
and cheesy love songs? What
is
it with people and cheesy love songs?’

‘I know—it’s crazy! So, of course, it was never going to go anywhere. Marco—well, that would be a cold day in hell.’ She looked at him. ‘But there’s no need to talk it to death. If you’re not interested let’s just move on. We have a tough seven weeks ahead, and there’s just not enough time for us to go through an awkward
phase.’

‘How the hell am I supposed to
move on
?’ Leo asked, incredulous.

‘I said I wanted to have sex with you—not that I wanted to marry you. And only up to four times, which is my limit.’ She looked at him thoughtfully. ‘You don’t suffer from priapism by any chance, do you?’

‘From
what
?’

‘Guess not. Well, then—are you, perhaps, a virgin who’s signed some sort of pledge?’

‘No, of course I’m not a
virgin
.’

‘Well, I don’t know why you say
“of course”
like that. There are more virgins out there than you realise. In fact I read on the internet that—’

‘And what do you mean, only up to four times?’ he asked, jumping in before she could give him virgin facts. Because he did
not
want virgin facts.

‘Any more than four times and things get messy. You know—emotional.
If you don’t want to develop a relationship it’s best to set a limit. And I don’t. Want to develop a relationship. I mean; I
do
want to set a limit. Hmm, you’re giving me that look.’

‘What look?’

‘That
she’s insane
look.’

‘That’s because you are. Insane.’

‘I’m just sensible, Leo. Men do this stuff all the time. Pick up a girl in a seedy bar—not that we’re in a seedy bar, of
course, but you get the picture—then race her off to the bedroom, then do the I’ll-call-you routine when they have no
intention
of calling. So why can’t I? Well, not the I’ll-call-you thing—I would never say I’d call someone and then not do it. And there really is no
reason
not to call. Regardless of whether you want to have sex with them again. Because you had to like them in
some
way to get
into bed with them in the first place, so you should want to see where the friendship goes, shouldn’t you? The sex part is kind of incidental—because sex is just...well,
sex
.’

Pause.

Thank God.
Because his head was spinning.

‘I guess what I’m saying,’ she continued, unabashed, ‘is that it’s better to be up-front about what you want—just sex, just friendship, sex and then friendship.
Whatever! But no tragic
I love you
just to wring an orgasm out of someone.’

‘What if you
do
fall in love?’

‘I won’t. I never have. And I never will. I told you before: I won’t let myself care that much.’

‘So you’re saying Jonathan and Caleb should give up the idea of marriage and just have sex?’

Her face softened. ‘No, I’m happy for them. And I know the love thing works for
lots of people—my parents are a prime example. It just doesn’t work for me.’

‘How do you know if you’ve never been there?’

‘Haven’t we already had this discussion?’

‘Not thoroughly enough, Sunshine.’

Another pause. ‘All right, then. The fact is I’m too...intense. I feel things too intensely.’

‘Not thoroughly
enough
,’ he repeated.

She bit her lower lip, worried it
between her teeth. And then, haltingly, she said, ‘I didn’t recover—not properly—from my sister’s death.’ The tears were there, being blinked furiously away. ‘I can’t describe it. The agony. The...
agony
.’

‘That’s a different kind of love,’ he said, but gently.

‘A different
kind
, yes. But the
depth
...
I just think it’s safer, for me, to splash in the shallows—not to swim out of my depth.’
She laughed, but there was no humour in it. ‘Huh. A line of coke and I’d be Natalie.’

‘You’re nothing like Natalie. And you already have strong, deep ties—to Jon, to your parents...’

‘Yes. I love Jon, and I love my parents. But it was too late to do anything about them; they were already here.’ Small tap over the heart. ‘I’m just limiting further damage.’ She tried to smile. ‘And, anyway,
the in-love kind of love would be the
most
damaging. Because I know how I’d be in love. Kill for him, die for him...’

‘The kind I want.’

‘The kind you
say
you want, anyway. Into the abyss, off the cliff. But you’ll see, when you’ve fallen into the abyss, that there’s anguish there—in the fear of losing the one you love, or even just losing the love. And I can’t—won’t—go through that.
Because next time I just don’t know how I—’ She stopped. Blew out a breath. ‘Let’s not go there. Let’s just keep the focus on sex.’

Leo could hear muted noises from outside floating up from the street. Traffic. A laugh. A shout. But inside it was quiet. ‘So you’ve restricted your lovers to a four-night term ever since Moonbeam died? And none of them ever wanted to take things further?’

‘They knew it was never going to happen. And I’ve managed to stay good friends with all of them despite that—which is more than you can say. Well, all of them bar one.’

‘And what went wrong with him?’

‘He just doesn’t like women dictating the terms, so we didn’t even make it to the first...what would you call it?...assignation? Yes, assignation.’ She did the curious bird thing. ‘I’m
guessing you’re in his camp.’

Leo had no idea, at that point,
what
he thought. But he didn’t like Sunshine telling him which camp he was in, thank you very much! ‘No, I’m not in that camp.’

Sunshine smiled. ‘So! Are you saying you
would
consider it, Leo? Sex, I mean?’

‘No, I’m not saying that either.’

Another smile. ‘Shall we try a little experiment, then?’

Long silence.
And then, ‘What kind of experiment?’

‘I’ll kiss you and you can see how that makes you feel.’

He opened his mouth to say no.

But Sunshine didn’t let him get that far.

She simply moved so she was straddling him. She undulated, once, against him, and he thought he would explode on the spot.
Holy hell.
Then she settled, cocooning him between her forearms as she gripped the back
of the sofa, one hand on each side of his head. Jonquils. Red silk. Heat and buzz and glow. She dipped her head, nipped his lower lip.

‘No, that wasn’t the kiss—that was me signalling my intention, as I promised to do.’ She smiled. ‘So! Ready?’

Any thought of denying her went straight out of his head like a shot of suddenly liberated steam. Leo gripped her hips, ground her against him,
wanting her to feel his raging erection—although he didn’t know why, unless her form of insanity was contagious—and took over, devouring her mouth with a hard, savaging kiss.

Her mouth was amazing. Open, luscious, drawing him in. His tongue, hot and agile, swept the roof of her mouth, the insides of her cheeks, under her super-sexy top lip. The tart sweetness of the lemony tea was delicious
when it was licked from inside her. He could feel that slight gap between her front teeth. He moved his hands, cupped her face to keep her there, just
there
, so he could taste more deeply.

He could feel his heart thundering. Became aware that her hands were now fisted in his shirt as she rocked against him, forced her mouth and his wider still. She was whimpering, alternately jamming her
tongue into his mouth and then licking his lips. And rocking, rocking,
rocking
against him until he thought he’d go mad with wanting.

Then her hands were moving between them, fingers plucking at the button of his jeans, which opened in a ‘thank God’ moment, then sliding his zipper down, freeing him.

‘Ah...’ he gasped, pulling his mouth away so he could breathe, try to think. But it was
no use. He had to kiss her again.

She reeled him back in, pulled him closer, angled him so that when she lay back, flattened on the couch, he was on top of her.

Then his hands were there, pulling up the red silk. Up, up, up. So he could touch her skin, which was like satin. No, not satin—warmer than satin. Velvet...like velvet. His fingers slid higher, closer. He didn’t want to wait—couldn’t
wait—
had
to feel her, to be in her the fastest way he could get there.

Without disengaging his mouth from hers, he plunged his fingers into her. Again. She arched into the touch.

She didn’t speak, but breathed out words. His name.
‘Leo. Yes, yes. Leo...’

And then it wasn’t his fingers but him needing to be there, buried in her as deep as he could go, panting, straining, wanting
this, wanting
her
, silently demanding that she come for him. For
him
.

He felt her body tightening, straining, heard his name explode from her lips as the orgasm gripped her. He pushed hard into her, and kissed her drugging mouth again as he followed her into a life-draining release.

They lay there, connected, in a tangle of clothes, spent.

After a long moment Sunshine gave a shaky
laugh. ‘That was some kiss,’ she said.

But Leo didn’t feel like laughing. He felt like diving into her again...and also, contrarily, like getting the hell away from her. From her rules. Her determination to fix him in the place where she wanted him. Just where she wanted him. No further.

Awkwardly, he disengaged himself from her body.

Sunshine sat up, pushing at her hair with one
unsteady hand and at her dress with the other. She looked like the cat that had got the cream.

Infuriating.

Mechanically, Leo adjusted his clothing. He was appalled to realise he hadn’t even
seen
her during that mad sexual scramble. Did that make him some kind of depraved, desperate sex fiend, that he’d treated her body like a receptacle? But then, he hadn’t really
needed
to see her
to know very well that it was her driving him wild—so wild he hadn’t been able to think past the need to be inside her.

‘Are you sorry?’ Sunshine asked softly.

She was watching him with wary concern.

‘No. Yes. I don’t know.’

Tiny laugh. ‘Multiple
choice
? How...comprehensive.’

He stood abruptly, shoved his hands in his pockets, not trusting where he’d put them otherwise.

‘Leo, don’t go. We have to talk about this.’

He shook his head.

She got to her feet, took his hand. ‘You will get all angsty if you leave now, because it happened so fast and we weren’t expecting it to go like that. We can’t have angst; we have too much to do. Come on, sit with me—let’s make sure we can get back to normal before you go.’

How did you talk yourself back to
normal
after that?

How did a kiss turn into rip-your-heart-out sex in one blinding flash of a moment? And that complete loss of control... It had never happened to him before. No condom. Not even a
thought
of one! He was shaken. Badly.

And—God!—she was still holding his hand, and he was rubbing his thumb over her knuckles, and he hadn’t even noticed he was doing it. He didn’t
do
that touchy-feely
stuff.

He dropped her hand and stepped back. ‘You’re dangerous, Sunshine,’ he said.

She looked startled. ‘It’s not like I’m a black widow spider or a praying mantis.’

‘What the—? All right, I think I get the black widow spider. But what’s so dangerous about a praying mantis?’

Her eyes lit. ‘Oh, it’s really interesting! Praying mantises can only have sex once the female rips
off the male’s head. Imagine! At least you still have your head.’

Leo felt his lips twitch. But he was
not
going to laugh. It was not a funny situation. It was an
angsty
one. Angsty? God.

‘On that note, I’m going,’ he said.

‘But we have to talk.’

‘Not now. Meet me... I don’t know... Tomorrow. At the Rump & Chop Grill. Five o’clock. It’s only a few blocks from here. I’ll send
someone for my kitchen gear in the morning.’

‘All right, tomorrow,’ she agreed, and walked with him to the door, where she stopped him. ‘Leo, just so you can think about it before then...I want to have sex with you again. We have up to three more opportunities, and there doesn’t seem to be a reason not to use them. We just need to schedule them so we don’t get distracted from the wedding
preparations.’

He was staring again. Couldn’t help it.

‘Far be it from me to distract you, Sunshine,’ he said.

* * *

So!

Yowzer!

As Sunshine wallowed in her bubble bath, lathering herself with her favourite jonquil-scented soap, she pondered what had happened.