Harlequin KISS August 2014 Bundle (69 page)

Oh, yeah, it was short-term. No love on offer.

She didn’t want long-term. Definitely
didn’t want love.

So what exactly would she lose?

‘Olivia?’

Her head snapped up from her unseeing contemplation of the table.

‘You OK?’ he asked, amusement lacing the deep voice. ‘You look like you’re having an internal debate on the meaning of life. And losing.’

‘I am fine. Absolutely fine.’

And she was. Hot sex with Adam would mean loss of control and she would
not
go there. She’d want him more than he wanted her. She was interchangeable with any beautiful woman. The power would be all his. Bang would go her self-respect. Problem was, right now self-respect seemed highly overrated.

‘Why don’t we move inside?’ she suggested. ‘I’m sure you want to catch up with Saru and...’

‘You looking for a chaperone, Olivia?’

She looked up at him, desperate
to deny it, but seeing the glint of mischief and sympathy in his brown eyes she couldn’t. ‘Something like that.’ Rallying, she managed a smile. ‘I wouldn’t want that bulldozed attraction to return.’

‘Hell, honey, neither would I. I couldn’t agree with you more. There’s safety in numbers, so let’s get ourselves inside.’

Rising to her feet, she picked up her empty glass and set off towards
the bar, sandals crunching into the moon-dappled sand. She went up the rickety wooden steps that led to the interior of the bar and stopped on the threshold, air whooshing from her lungs.

‘Wow!’ The inside of the bar was a vibrant Mecca for reggae. Posters covered every millimetre of the walls, and the ceiling was looped with garlands of flags in bright red, yellow and green. Olivia absorbed
the life-size cardboard Bob Marley in front of a small stage tucked into the corner. Tables half filled with customers were scattered over the wooden floor and there was a buzz of conversation against the beat of reggae music being emitted from the sophisticated sound system.

‘Saru is a bit of a reggae fanatic,’ Adam said. ‘You should hear him and his cousin perform. They are amazing.’

‘Hey, Adam,’ Saru called from behind the bar. ‘You want to play?’

Adam hesitated.

‘Go on,’ Olivia said, the urge to see this hitherto unseen side to Adam nigh on overwhelming. This was a different type of relaxed from his usual practised, laid-back charm and she wanted to witness it. ‘Demonstrate your hot stuff.’

Just far away from me. Please. On the drums. Not on me. Please.

‘You sure you don’t mind?’

‘Cross my heart.’

‘Yes. Come on, Adam. Show Olivia what you can do,’ Saru encouraged as he walked around the bar counter. ‘Olivia, Adam has never brought a woman here before. We should mark the occasion. Sit here. I’ll get you a beer.’ He tapped a man on the shoulder. ‘And Marley, as he is known for obvious reasons, will sing.’

A totally stupid warmth
melted over her as Adam ushered her to a table. He had never brought a woman here before. True, he hadn’t exactly chosen to bring her, either, but that wasn’t the point. She wasn’t 100 per cent sure what the point actually was, but right now she didn’t care.

Olivia watched as Adam strode to the stage and seated himself behind a pair of bongo drums. He stroked the top and drummed his fingers
in a gentle experimental tattoo. Saru leapt up next to him and they had a quick whispered confab with Marley before the strains of one of the world’s best-known reggae songs strummed from his guitar, the drums in perfect accompaniment as Marley started to sing.

He had a magnificent voice, but Olivia’s eyes were riveted to Adam and a whole different level of desire swathed her. Utterly relaxed,
lost in the moment and the music, he looked in his element. His large hands moved as if he and the instrument were one—as if he’d been born playing the bongos. When he and Saru chimed in for the chorus, Olivia picked out Adam’s deep melodious voice and a shiver trembled over her spine.

Envy touched her. The idea of losing herself in something, really believing there was nothing to worry about,
was alluring in the extreme. Maybe for a couple of hours tonight, though, she could do that. Be Olivia on holiday—actually be the Queen of Chill for real.

She drank another glug of beer and allowed her sandal-clad toes to tap the wooden floor. Like the rest of the clientele she found her body swaying as the set progressed. Her heart beat faster and faster as she watched Adam, his hands a
blur now, his muscular forearms sheened with sweat, thick thighs pressed against the drums. He was so damn hot her insides twisted with the sheer wanting of him.

Marley bowed at the close of the song even as the clientele called for more.

Saru stood up. ‘Anyone else want a go?’

A Thai man at an adjoining table jumped to his feet. ‘I’ll sing,’ he said.

Saru plucked a guitar
down from the selection hanging behind the stage. ‘Elvis takes the stage,’ he announced as he passed the instrument over. ‘Olivia? You want to try the drums?’

It took Olivia a second to understand the question. ‘Me?’ she said. ‘Um...I’m fine watching...but thanks all the same. I’m not really very musical.’

Then Adam looked up from the drums and made a
come hither
movement with his hand,
and of their own volition her feet propelled her upward and onward.
Nooooooo!
This was the world’s very worst idea. The last drum she’d played she’d been aged two and it had been saucepan-shaped. Yet she kept right on going to where Adam waited at the edge of the stage, his hand outstretched.

As his fingers clasped hers Olivia bit back a gasp even as she cursed her own imagination. Because
that was all it could be. Electric currents could
not
be generated by desire; it was a scientific impossibility.

Once on stage Olivia looked around the bar, lit up by a scattering of red-, yellow-, and green-coloured paper lanterns, its relaxed patrons all chatting as ‘Elvis’ limbered up on the guitar. Saru drummed an impromptu solo, the haunting beat carrying on the night breeze wafting
in through the open windows.

‘I’m really not sure about this,’ Olivia said.

‘It’ll be fun,’ Adam said. ‘Give it a go. Come on. The Queen of Chill would.’

‘Ha ha!’ Olivia hesitated for a moment and then pinned her shoulders back. What the hell? If she stepped off this stage now she’d regret it. After all, when would she ever get the chance to do something like this again?

It
would be an experience, and it was worth the headiness provoked by Adam’s proximity. He was buzzing; she could feel the vibe jumping off him. His scent assaulted her senses, the pure masculine tang of salt and his underlying woodsy scent sending her dizzy with longing.

‘OK,’ she said. ‘I’ll give it a go.’

She followed him to the bongos, dropped down onto the low stool behind them, and
pulled the drums forward between her thighs. The leather was warm from Adam’s body heat and Olivia shuddered.

And then she melted as he slid onto the stool behind her, the rock-solid wall of his chest against her back. A strange noise emerged from her mouth, half mewl, half groan, as his arms slipped round her waist and his big hands covered hers.

‘Meep.’

‘You need to sit on the
edge of the seat,’ he said softly, his breath tickling her ear. ‘And position your legs at a ninety-degree angle.’

‘Meep.’

Get a grip. He is positioning you to play the drums. Nothing else. This is not the time to channel Roadrunner.

‘You OK?’ Adam’s voice held amusement and sin; the combination was lethal.

‘Yup. Fine.’

‘Good. You need the larger drum just below your right
knee and nudge the smaller one to your left.’

If she focused really hard on the drums instead of the press of his body, she could do this.

‘You comfy?’

‘Just peachy.’ Never mind that her muscles were in clench mode and it was nothing to do with drum-holding.

‘Good. That’s important. Make sure you’ve got the drum firmly in place between your legs.’

His voice was so low,
so full of innuendo that Olivia was torn between a desire to elbow him or call him on it. She went for option two.

Wriggling her bottom backwards she grinned at the evidence of exactly what innuendo was doing to him. ‘You sure you’re talking about the drum?’ she whispered.

His breath hitched and the solid muscle of his thigh convulsed against her leg. ‘Excellent question. What would
you
like
me to be talking about, Olivia?’

He pressed the edge of his erection against the small of her back and she moaned. She had to ground herself; she really did. They had agreed to bypass the attraction, so what exactly was Adam doing? Maybe he was being carried away by the music—in which case it was up to her to be the sane one.

‘The drums,’ she said hoarsely. ‘That’s what we’re
talking about here.’

‘Anything you say, cupcake.’ He caressed her hands, his thumbs stroking her index fingers until she couldn’t think straight. ‘In which case now you need to limber up,’ he growled. ‘You’ll need to use your fingers and thumbs to do a lot of the work.’

‘Meep. Meep.’

‘This is what you’ll need to get a beat going.’ His nose brushed her cheek; he was so very close
they were practically melded. Her entire body was on alert as his scent enveloped her.

Reality, Liv. Try to focus.

Saru had started playing now, and the singer strummed the first chord of the song.

‘Just go with it, Olivia,’ Adam murmured. ‘Go with the rhythm. Lose yourself in it.’

For a second her body tensed against his and then something shifted inside her chest—a leaden
block, pushed aside by the volcano of desire that was building up inside her like a fever. She closed her eyes and allowed her body to sway to the beat, encased by the strength of Adam’s arms. She felt his body move with hers and dizziness soared. Her hands, still underneath his, moved instinctively to the rhythmic beat of the music until the singer sang a final harmonic refrain, the echo of his
voice soaring into the warm glow of the bar.

Applause rang out and Olivia opened her eyes, suddenly aware of the insane grin on her face.

‘That was amazing,’ she breathed. And so was this: Adam’s hard body pressed up against her, the high of having done something so out of character. She wondered if it was possible that aliens had abducted the real Olivia Evans.

‘There’s nothing
like it,’ Adam agreed.

Saru jumped down off the stage and after a long moment Adam released her waist and rose to his feet. Olivia gave a small shiver. Of cold, she reassured herself. Not loss, because that would be absurd.

Her heart still pounded, her head still spun, and desire still smouldered, desperate to erupt. Damn it, she wanted that physical connection to remain.

Without
letting herself question it further she rose and twisted round, closed the gap between them in a single small step. She looped her arms round the solid column of his waist, curled her fingers into the waistband of his shorts and rocked right up against him.

TEN

Adam stared
down into her wide hazel eyes, saw her lush pink lips part. There was no way in heaven or hell he could resist her. One taste, one kiss—that was all he’d allow himself. After the glorious frustration of having her lush body so close, her apple scent intoxicating him whilst her sheer abandon in the music had stopped him short, a kiss was surely not too much to take?

‘Adam? Please. This time I won’t pull back.’

Whoa...

A kiss was one thing; Olivia was asking for more.
Huzzah.

Somehow he had to think past the temptation to throw her over his shoulder, race back to the hotel, and take her at her word. Before she changed her mind.

‘Damn it.’ The words emerged from his throat hoarse and guttural. Twice they’d been carried away, and two
times Olivia had hauled herself back. There must be reasons for that.

Complicated reasons.

So if she was surrendering herself now that was a huge deal for her.

Which further muddied the already swamp-like water.

About the only thing Adam was sure of now, apart from his body’s urgent desire, was that complications were bad news.

For all concerned.

Olivia was vulnerable
and that put her off-limits.

Digging deep into his reserves of willpower, he gently reached back to unclasp her grip and stepped backwards.

‘No can do, Olivia.’

Her tongue peeped out as she moistened her lips. ‘Why not?’ A downward lingering glance and then her hazel eyes flicked back up to meet his. ‘I can see that you’re feeling this, too.’

‘You’ll get no argument there.’
The thought that this hard-on now had nowhere to go was enough to make him weep. ‘But we agreed. No explosion means no pieces to pick up. So help me, right now all I want to do is take you to my bed. But it’s not a good idea. For either of us.’

No way was he taking that emotional journey with her. A fling with Olivia would necessarily involve more than hot sex, expensive dinners and a piece
of jewellery. And he didn’t want more because he had nothing more to give.

Olivia bit her lip, and his resolve faltered at the hurt that shadowed her eyes.

Then she blinked and pulled her hands from his grasp. ‘Well, this is embarrassing,’ she said finally, with a brittle attempt at a laugh.

‘No. No embarrassment allowed,’ he said firmly. ‘Because there is nothing to feel awkward
about. I promise. Now, come on. We deserve a beer, and after our excellent drumming performance there will be plenty of people who want to buy us one. Come on, Olivia. Let’s party.’

She hesitated for a moment and then gave her small characteristic nod.

They descended the double steps leading off the stage and returned to their table where two beers already awaited them, the frosted glasses
a welcome diversion from their conversation. Perhaps the ice-cold drink would cool him down. His body sizzled with disappointment at being short-changed. Whilst his libido was calling him every sort of fool.

‘Cheers,’ he said, raising his glass. ‘To your first public performance.’

She clinked her glass against his. ‘And likely to be my last.’

‘Why?’

‘I can’t see me taking up
drumming once I get back home.’ There was an almost wistful note to her voice before she frowned and took another sip of beer. ‘I’ll buy a CD, though. That song—what sort of music was it? It didn’t sound like reggae.’

‘Calypso music,’ Adam said. ‘It’s Afro-Carribean and the songs tend to represent the voice of the people. In the past the lyrics have been used politically and historically.’

This was ridiculous; the conversation was so stilted he might as well find some wooden sticks to prop it up.

It was a relief to see Saru arrive with two more beers in hand. ‘Here you go. On the house, for a spectacular performance, Olivia.’

‘Thank you, Saru. I enjoyed every minute.’

‘Enjoy. I’ll be back soon with some food for you both. Beef
phaenang
. You’ll love it.’

Once he’d gone, silence loomed and Adam strained his brain to find any topic of conversation, drummed his fingers on the tabletop in time to the jiggle of her foot on the wooden planks of the floor.

She drained one beer and pulled the fresh one towards her. ‘I’ve got an idea,’ she said. ‘To solve our conversational vacuum.’

‘Go right ahead.’

‘Let’s play twenty questions.’

Good
grief. Had it really come to this? The type of games he usually indulged in with his dates were more the kind you played in the bedroom.
Ah, but Olivia isn’t your date. And you vetoed the bedroom. Idiot that you are.

‘Twenty questions it is.’

‘Good. I’ll go first.’ Olivia wrinkled her nose in thought. ‘What’s your favourite colour?’

‘Umm...’
Come on, Adam.
It was an easy question
and the answer didn’t even have to be true. ‘Blue.’

‘That’s it?’

‘Yup.’

‘What type of blue? Navy? Royal? Turquoise? Aquamarine? Azure?’

‘OK, OK. I get it. And that counted as an extra question. Navy blue.’

Olivia shook her head. ‘Dull, Masterson. That’s plain
dull
.’

Adam tried and failed to remember the last time a woman had dismissed him as being dull.

‘Your
turn,’ she said.

‘Where do you live?’ Hard to believe that he didn’t know, but he didn’t.

‘Bath. I love it. I moved there a few years ago and it’s such a great city. It’s steeped in history and it’s got amazing shops, as well.’

‘Where did you live before?’

‘Oh, here and there. We moved around a lot. That’s why I was so desperate to settle down properly. I think it’s why I love
my flat so much. It’s not big, but it doubles as a work and home space and it’s mine.’ Animation lit her features, her skin taking on a luminosity that had nothing to do with the coloured lanterns. ‘Do you want to see some photos?’ she offered.

Guessing that it might well be Olivia’s attempt to ground herself, to remind herself of home and work and the real world, Adam nodded. ‘Love to.’
Could be
his
resolve could do with a bit of focus, too.

Without preamble she stood up and moved her chair around so she was sitting adjacent to him instead of opposite, and he braced himself for what he was beginning to think of as The Olivia Effect.

‘So, these are the “before” pictures,’ she said, placing her tablet on the table between them. ‘When I bought it the place needed a
whole
lot of work.’

She wasn’t kidding. The pictures showed dilapidated, damp-ridden rooms. Floorboards pushed through the rotten wool of threadbare carpets, dingy wallpaper peeled off the walls.

‘Now look at this. This is the work area.’

Adam let out a whistle as he saw how she had transformed the bay-fronted room. Originally meant as a lounge, it was now a professional office space.
The walls were a bright, clean white, embellished with pictures of stylish fashions through the years and fabulous prints of Bath throughout the ages. Comfortable and homely overstuffed armchairs and a brightly upholstered sofa surrounded a table complete with fashion magazines. The wooden floor gleamed and the bright and cheerful rugs that littered the floor screamed
fun
along with good taste.

She beamed at him. ‘And this is the kitchen.’

It was a fraction of the size of his but it looked way more personal. The blown-up photos showed a neatly put up shelf of eclectic cookbooks that covered the globe in cuisine, a row of brightly coloured mugs, and pottery jars labelled ‘Tea’, ‘Coffee’, and ‘Sugar’.

‘I’ll bet your fridge is properly compartmentalised.’

‘I’ll let you
into a secret.’

She leant forward confidentially, so close that he could see the light smattering of freckles on the end of her nose.

‘I keep my spices in alphabetical order.’

‘Whereas I don’t own any spices at all.’

Which pretty much summed it up.

A stray strand of her strawberry hair tickled his cheek and lured his fingers as she shook her head.

‘That’s just wrong,’
she declared slightly fuzzily as she picked up her glass.

‘Hey! Not owning spices is hardly a crime.’

‘It is from now. The Queen of Chill decrees it.’

Another shake of her head and Adam placed his hands on the table, out of temptation’s way.

‘Seriously, Adam, it’s not right to live in a hotel room.’

‘Penthouse suite,’ he interpolated.

She waved a hand. ‘Whatever.
Point is, you never have to do anything
real
.’

‘Such as?’

‘Cooking. Cleaning. Dusting.’

Adam tipped his hands in the air. ‘And this is a problem because...?’

‘But that’s what us normal everyday types have to do. I think it would be good for you to get down on your knees and scrub a bathroom floor.’

He couldn’t resist. ‘But I can think of so many more pleasurable activities
to do on my knees. Can’t you?’

Her face was tinged pink and her mouth smacked into a circle of surprised outrage, and Adam felt his lips quirk upwards into a smile.

‘I can’t believe you said that,’ she said, before emitting a sudden snort of laughter and staring into her glass. ‘Hey. It’s empty. How did that happen?’

‘I think you drank it.’ Adam glanced up. ‘Ah. Here comes our food.’

‘And more beer,’ Olivia said on a slight hiccup. ‘Good man, Saru.’ She beamed up at Saru as he placed two steaming plates in front of them. ‘This looks incredible.’

Saru grinned. ‘Thank you, Olivia. The ingredients are all fresh. I bought them myself from the market today.’

Leaning over the plate, Olivia inhaled. ‘It smells as good as it looks. What’s in it? And do you mind if I
take notes?’ She indicated the napkin by her side.

Adam blinked; there was a certain fascination in watching the animation on her face as she listed all the ingredients, the tip of her tongue protruding at the corner of her mouth.

‘Kaffir lime, coconut milk, palm sugar...’

Yet another first. Adam tried and failed to imagine any woman he’d dated taking recipe notes from a waiter.

‘What?’ she asked after Saru had left. ‘I can’t have sauce on my nose because I haven’t started eating yet.’

‘Nothing,’ Adam said, shaking his head and pushing away the urge to tell her she was adorable. ‘Just tuck in.’

‘Don’t mind if I do.’

Adam had never witnessed anyone demolish a plateful of food with such ladylike dedication. Within minutes her plate was wiped clean.

‘That was amazing,’ Olivia said, as she pulled her glass towards her. ‘Now, where were we with twenty questions? Why don’t you tell me your hobbies?’

To Adam’s surprise, the next time he glanced around the bar had emptied, the music had been turned off, and he and Olivia had swapped a mountain of information. Favourite films—hers:
Breakfast at Tiffany’s
; his:
The Great Escape
. Favourite
book—hers: too many to count, so
Lord of the Rings
and all of Austen; his:
Lord of the Rings
and anything detective.

‘I think it’s time to go before Saru kicks us out,’ Adam said.

Olivia nodded and then winced, placed her hands on the table and levered herself up. ‘I may be ever so slightly...tipsy,’ she announced. ‘Not inebee...inebril...in...drunk, you understand. Just tiddly. Like
in winks. That’s what we should play next. Tiddlywinks.’

‘Next time,’ Adam said.

‘Itsh a deal.’ Olivia looked down and then dropped back onto the chair. ‘We can’t go.’

‘Why not?’

‘Cos I haven’t got my...you know...my thingy. The thing that I wrote thingies down on.’

‘The napkin?’

‘Yup.’ Olivia folded her arms on the table. ‘Can’t go without that. It’s like a souvenir...you
know?’

‘I’ll see what I can do.’

‘You’re a prince.’

Fifteen minutes later a diligent search had located the scrawled upon napkin and Olivia had very carefully folded it up and tucked it into her tablet case.

‘Let’s go,’ she said, and wended her way towards the door.

There was nothing for it—no choice but to snake his arm around the slender span of her waist in order to
steer her straight across the moonlit sand. His body reacted all too predictably as she tucked herself next to him, leant against him with a small, satisfied sigh.

‘There we go. Easy does it, Olivia.’

‘Call me Liv.’

‘I’d be honoured.’

She looked up at the sky. ‘So beautiful,’ she said. ‘All black and glittery and...and starry. Like your eyes.’

‘Thank you.’ Adam suppressed
a grin; Olivia...no,
Liv
was going to regret this the next day.

‘Adam?’

‘Yes.’

‘Can I ask you another question?’

‘Question twenty-one? Sure.’

‘What do you think about love?’

Ah.
Talk about sliding in the knock-out punch right at the end. Glancing down at her, he acquitted her of intentionally wanting to catch him out. Her nose was simply crinkled in thought as she
waited for his answer.

‘I believe in it for other people but I know it’s not for me.’ He hitched his shoulders as she tilted her head, the movement casing a friction against his chest.

‘Well, I don’t like love. Because...’

She stumbled slightly and he tightened his grasp around her waist, his gut clenching with renewed desire.

‘Because,’ she continued, ‘love is an illusion.’

If only the stirring of his body was a delusion.
Focus on the conversation, Adam.
Although it didn’t really matter what they said because it was unlikely that Olivia would remember.

‘Why do you say that?’

Olivia slid to a stop and turned to face him, held onto his arms as she peered up at his face. ‘Cos it’s true. Men cheat, dazzled by a beautiful face or the thrill of the forbidden,
and they hop out of the marriage bed—’ she snapped her fingers as she gave a little jump, scuffing up grains of moonlit sand ‘—just like that. Or they say they love you to get into your knickers. It’s an illusion to romanticise sex.’

‘Not all men are like that. Think of all the happily married people in the world.’