Harlequin KISS August 2014 Bundle (52 page)

So why he was offering to give up his motorbike for her was a mystery.

So what if he never had sex with her again?

So what if she went on grieving for her sister for the rest of the life?

Leo punched his pillow. Forced his eyes closed.

And there she was, warning him about her scars. So beautiful. And damaged, like him. But wanting to
stay
damaged—
unlike
him.

His eyes popped open and he punched the pillow again.

God, but she irked him.

Her perkiness irked him. Partly because he wanted to think that it made her shallow...and yet she’d learned the Heimlich manoeuvre and wasn’t afraid to use it.

The way she chucked crazy facts into her arguments—about the sexual habits of praying mantises, the questionable immortality of lobsters, regenerating livers, and so on and on and on—irked him. Because most of the time that stuff
was fascinating. And even if it wasn’t, it was fascinating to watch those unique eyes glow with the wonder of it.

Her boring living room irked him, because it shouldn’t be like that. Not that her décor was any of his business. And the fact that he could be bothered to think of her apartment irking him irked him too.

Her pink bedroom irked him. All right, it didn’t—because it was kind
of amazing. But it
should
irk him, and the fact that it
didn’t
irk him irked him.

Her propensity to kiss and touch and pet him irked him. And it had irked him even more when she hadn’t kissed him hello at the restaurant.

Her four-times maximum irked him. And the fact that he’d refused to accept that they were stopping at two irked him.

Two times.
Two.
Not three, not four—two! Her
terms. Everything on her terms, right from the moment she’d ambushed him on the couch.

Well, he’d picked her as a wily little dictator from Day One. But she was
not
going to dictate to Leo Quartermaine. He would have her as many damned times as he
wanted
to have her.

He punched his pillow again. Hard.

SEVEN

TO: Leo Quartermaine

FROM: Sunshine Smart

SUBJECT: Wedding update

Hi Leo

I’m attaching a photo of my dress. If you can send me one of your
suit and tie—I’m assuming a tie?—I’ll know if this is okay or if I have to go
back to the drawing board. And I can get your shoe design finished too.

So, the shoes. You’ll need three fittings—twenty mins
each
time—and you can schedule these to suit yourself as I won’t be needed. I’m
attaching Seb’s business card—Seb is the shoemaker—and once you’ve approved my
design all you need to do is call him.

And, trust me, once you’ve had custom-made shoes you’ll never
go back. Which might not be good, now I think of it, because they’re hellishly
expensive (not these particular
shoes, of course, because it’s a special deal
for me, as well as being a present).

The other attachment is of some floral arrangements for the
restaurant. I think the all-white ones, so as not to distract from the view.
What do you think?

I’m going to scoot down the coast on Sunday to check out some
hotel options for guests who want to stay overnight. I know you’re
super-busy so
I can handle this and email all the info to you.

And then we need to confirm the music—Kate is amazing—when you
have a minute.

Hope all is well.

Sunshine

Oh, no,
Sunshine Smart-Ass, you are not going down the coast without
me.

That was the first thought to leap to Leo’s mind after he read
the email.

The second was that
she had a bloody nerve adding the ‘Hope all
is well’, because she had to know all was
not
well.
Not by a country
mile
was all ‘well’. ‘All’ wouldn’t
be ‘well’ until he had her exactly where he wanted her.

A sudden image of her naked, in his arms, had him erect and
almost groaning. Even though that was not what he’d meant. What he’d meant was
on her knees and—

Argh.
Another image.

Figuratively
speaking on her knees,
not physically.

But—nope, the image wouldn’t budge.

He took a steadying breath and forced himself to open
Sunshine’s attachment, hoping it wouldn’t be her
in
the damned dress—which, of course, it was. Looking very hot. And, of course, she
had her foot stuck out so he could see her amazingly sexy shoes.

And, since he knew he had to see her in the flesh in that
dress, he would up the ante on his suit so that he matched the formality—
and
send her the damned photo so he could get his shoe
design.

And he would tell her that he would most definitely meet her at
South on Sunday, when they would discuss flowers and confirm music and go and
see the hotels
together
.

Ha!

Hope all is well.

Bloody,
bloody
nerve
.

* * *

Sunshine, who had laboured long and hard over the
wording of her email to Leo to give it just the right sense of moving-on
friendliness, opened Leo’s reply with some trepidation.

She wasn’t sure what to expect—but the three terse lines
certainly hadn’t been laboured over.

Meet you at South at two
p.m. Sunday. Will confirm everything then.
Suit pic attached.

So! She guessed she’d better start working on getting rid of
the horrible fluttery feeling in her stomach before Sunday.
Surely
she could be her normal carefree self in four days!

Cautiously she opened the attachment he’d sent.

And—oh—flutter, flutter, flutter. And he wasn’t even
in
the photo!

The suit, photographed on a dummy so she got the full effect,
was in a beautiful mid-grey. Three pieces, including a waistcoat, which she
adored. The pants were narrow and cuffed. The two-button jacket was
ultra-contemporary, but also sexily conservative. A white shirt, a tie in a fine
black, silver and white check, and a purple and silver pocket square shoved
insouciantly
into the left breast pocket.

That suit, his physique, his dourly handsome face, his hair...
He would have all the female guests drooling over him.

Maybe she shouldn’t have made him grow his hair...
And where did
that
unworthy
thought come from? If three centimetres of hair snares him a new bed
partner—good!

Well, every woman might be drooling, but only one woman
could
design his shoes. All right, that sounded incredibly lame. But so what?

She was going to do the design right now. And give it to him on
Sunday. And he was going to love—not like, but
love
—his shoes, dammit!

* * *

The motorbike was in pole position when Sunshine pulled
up outside South
.
He couldn’t have made it more
visible if he’d had it on a dais under
a spotlight.

She knew right then that he would be yanking her chain all day.
Stealing
her sanity!

Her stomach, which had finally started to settle into a
relatively stable buzz, started rioting again. She sat in her car, taking some
deep breaths and giving herself a stern talking-to: he was not a teenage hothead
and he would
not
kill himself; she didn’t care if he
did
kill himself;
she’d
kill him if he didn’t get rid of the bike. And so on.

Not the most intelligent conversation she’d ever had with
herself. And completely ineffectual, because her stomach was still going
crazy.

If
only
she’d had the nous to call
it quits with Leo after the first time she might still be a properly functioning
adult.

Well, spilt milk
and all that. She would just have to find a
way back to normality before it affected the wedding preparations. Because the
wedding was what was important. Not her, not Leo—the wedding!

She straightened her shoulders, flung open the door, and
scrambled out of the car. She would have liked to have
disembarked
from the car, in case Leo was watching, but she was
wearing her
most complicated shoes and a too-tight dress! Compensating, she
practically glided to the boot and, with what she considered great panache,
swung her portfolio out. She left the briefcase behind, though—it was hard to
look cucumber-cool when you were carrying a briefcase
and
a portfolio. Not that it usually bothered her, but... Well,
but
!

She took another deep breath
as she entered the restaurant and
saw Leo.

His hair was at Number Three buzz-cut stage. His jeans were
black. He was wearing a fitted black superfine wool sweater. Sex on a stick.
Even the black biker boots didn’t have the power to dampen the desire that hit
her like a punch.

He walked towards her—a purposeful kind of prowl that made her
tongue want to loll.
Not
that there would be any
tongue-lolling going on today.

She went to give him a reflex kiss on the cheek, but pulled
back as it hit her that this was now fraught with difficulty.

His slow smile told her he’d registered her state of confusion.
And then, to her shock, he leant down and kissed
her
. Sweet, slow, warm brush of lips against her cheek.

‘Oh,’ she said inanely.

He simply raised his eyebrows. And she knew what he was doing.
He was playing the
Dare You
game!
Dare you to question that
. Well, she would
not
be dared.

He gestured to the dining area. ‘As you can see, the tables and
chairs are in,’ he said. ‘We’re basically ready. I’m doing a trial dinner in two
weeks, then we’ll have a month to tweak. It will be a full moon on the trial
night, so the view should be amazing. I’m inviting mostly locals, and some food
and lifestyle media, but because it’s a rehearsal for the wedding you’ll have to
come—obviously.’

Dare you! Dare you not to come.

Oh, how she wanted to say she couldn’t make it. But that would
be a mammoth case of cutting off her nose to spite her face, which he knew very
well.

So, ‘Of course,’ she said.

He nodded at the portfolio in her hand. ‘What’s that?’

‘Your shoe design.’

‘Let’s have a look,’ Leo said.

Ordinarily, Sunshine would have gone a little theatrical,
starting with a narrative and then positioning the designs on an easel. But
today she merely pulled out the sheets and thrust them at Leo.

She watched, trying not to care,
as he flicked through
them.

She saw the shock come over his face and wished she could
snatch the drawings out of his hands and rip them up.

Leo took them further into the restaurant and laid the pages on
a window table, where light streamed brightly through.

He darted a looked up at her. ‘Not what I was expecting,’ he
said.

‘What
were
you expecting?’

Small pause. Quick smile. ‘What’s the shoe equivalent of a pine
bookshelf?’

Huh?
‘I guess...black leather
lace-ups...?’

‘Bingo.’

‘Not that there’s anything wrong with black leather
lace-ups.’

‘And yet...?’

Sunshine shrugged. ‘And...yet.’

* * *

Okay. Leo admitted it. He wanted the damned shoes.

The design was sharp, lean, streamlined. No decorative
stitching. Toes that were subtly rounded but also somehow pointed. No
laces—monkstraps, fastened with sleek silver side buckles.

Plain and yet edgy.

And the colour was astounding. They looked black, but there was
a suggestion...a sheen...of purple.

He cleared his throat. ‘Thanks.’

‘Do you...do you think you’ll wear them?’

‘Can you really get that colour?
And those buckles?’

‘I have the black-violet leather reserved. And I’ve already
ordered the buckles—they’re real silver.’

Black-violet. Perfect. ‘Then, yes, I’ll wear them,
Sunshine.’

She smiled, her eyes glowing with joy, and he felt his heart
start that heavy thump he’d hoped wouldn’t happen. Not today—not when he wanted
to be securely in the driver’s seat
for a change, keeping Sunshine a little off
balance.

Of course his first sight of her, hauling herself out of that
ancient, minuscule bright yellow car—Holy Mother of God, could a car
be
more perfect for her?—had almost derailed that plan
on the spot, because
he
was the one who’d felt
suddenly off balance.

It was the dress, he told himself. It was a monumental
distraction, that dress. Petal-pink, too damned tight, too damned short.

And the black heels—too bloody high, with little black pearls
studded in the leather and those crisscrossed ribbons around her ankles. How
could a man
not
think about sucking her toes when he
saw those shoes?

Thank God he’d got that first surge of heat under control
enough to kiss her cheek
instead of shoving his tongue halfway down her throat.
Because that had been touch and go!

Now, however, the heart-thump suggested derailment was imminent
again.

Well, he would just have to share the derailment around.

‘So, then, let’s go check out hotels,’ he said.

‘Are you—? Are you going to come with me? In the car?’

He thought about saying no—he’d realised
that seeing him on the
bike was going to be her breaking point and he wanted to get to that point fast.
But in that tiny car of hers they would be very close to each other. So close
she’d be able to feel him even without touching. He could use that. He was
sure
he could use that.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘The car.’

But when he squeezed himself into the passenger seat, and the
scent of jonquils hit him like Thor’s hammer, he thought perhaps he had made a
tactical error. He just freaking
loved
that
smell.

‘Seat belt,’ she said, and waited like a good little Girl Scout
until he’d buckled up before starting the car.

He could see a faint blush on her cheeks. She’d get a shock if
he touched her there. One finger along the rosy heat.

So he did, finding it shockingly easy to do.

But touchy-feely Sunshine swivelled as though he’d slapped
her.

She stared at him.

He stared back.

And then he smiled. ‘You know, Sunshine—your pupils are
dilated. Got any internet facts to share about dilated pupils?’

* * *

Yes, Sunshine knew all about dilated pupils.

But she wasn’t answering that.

Not with visions of straddling him right there in his seat
popping into her head. He was so close that every time she changed gears her
hand brushed his thigh. She had a sneaking suspicion he was deliberately putting
his leg in the way. Another yank of her chain? She’d said hands-off, so he—the
great un-toucher—had decided it was hands-
on
, just
to needle her into a decision.
And she’d thought he’d needed exposure therapy
for his touching phobia!

It was just as well the first hotel was close to the
restaurant. It was such a relief to be out of the car and in the open air.

Until Leo put his hand in the small of her back to guide her
across the car park to the hotel entrance—
enough with the
touching, already!
—and she wanted to slap him.

She was a
pacifist
—she should
not
want to slap!

Sunshine stepped away from Leo the moment they were inside the
hotel.

‘I loved what I saw on the internet about this place,’ she
said, with an enthusiasm that actually managed to sound insincere even though
she truly meant it.

That
was what Leo was doing to her.
Making her over-babble.

She looked around,
taking in the use of dark wood, the pale
stone floor. ‘I think I’m going to book my own room here. Are you planning on
staying overnight? I think you should. You know, you don’t want to...to
ride...after the party.’