Just My Luck (30 page)

They’d cooked another big, leisurely breakfast, packed up the food and loaded it into the car like some kind of . . . real couple. And it had felt great.

Nate smiled. “I appreciate the anonymous weekend, but it’s not really necessary.”

“It is, though,” she protested. “I wanted to give you a few days where it was just you and me. Where you wouldn’t have to think about anything else. Or about being anything else.” Except for the market the day before, but that had been fairly low-key. There was no way for him to escape notice entirely, not in New Zealand. But she’d done her very best.

He pulled her to him for a kiss that had her hanging on and kissing him back. She just never got tired of that.

“And you did,” he assured her. “You gave me just exactly that. Maybe I could pack you in my suitcase tomorrow, take you with me to the Mount, on to Aussie. Keep me relaxed all week.”

“Your roommate might notice something a little funny,” she said, reluctantly going to the door and reaching for her bag.

“I’ll do that,” he objected, grabbing the handle with one hand and hefting his own duffel with the other. “And I’m afraid you’re right,” he sighed, waiting while she cast a last look around and pulled the door to the little house closed behind them. “Pity.”

“Are you driving?” he asked with surprise when he’d stowed the luggage and she was opening the driver’s side door. “I’ll do it if you like.”

“My car,” she pointed out, waiting while he got into the passenger side and fastened his seatbelt. “Does it really bother you to be driven by a woman? I thought we got over that with the climbing lessons.”

“Well, not a
woman,”
he said slowly.

“What?” She shot him a startled glance before pulling out onto the road. “You don’t like how I drive?”

“Bit fast, isn’t it?”

“Oh, man. I
scare
you.” She started to laugh, got to the edge of town, and put her foot down.

“This OK with you?” she asked solicitously. “I’m going the limit. Too frightening? Want me to slow down to ninety?”

“Oi,” he protested. “I may have been blindfolded on the way up here, but I wasn’t deaf. And those tires squealed round the corners a fair bit. It’s a Yaris, not a Porsche. And the limit’s there for a reason, you know.”

“Well, excuse me. I’ll try to take account of your tender sensibilities and not frighten you, how’s that?” She took another look at the speedometer. A hundred and eight. Well, that was reasonable, surely.

“Cheers,” he said with a reluctant smile. “But I was serious, earlier. It was a good weekend. Wish it wasn’t over. What d’you think about staying with me tonight? You don’t have to work till tomorrow, do you?”

She glanced quickly across at him, then concentrated on taking another sharp corner. The tires only squealed a little bit. Well, she wasn’t going to drive like an old lady, no matter how proper he wanted to be.

“Not till the afternoon,” she said. “I could give you a lift to the airport in the morning, maybe?”

“Sounds good.”

“I’d have to see about my schedule, whether I can pick you up, though,” she realized. “Whether I have to work. Because that’ll be Sunday, right?”

“Right. If not, I’ll get a lift from one of the boys, no worries. Wish I could know you’d be off when I am, though, at least on the Sundays. At least at
night.
I want to be with you when I’m home.”

Well, wasn’t that just the thing to give her a happy glow? Even though, however badly he wanted to be with her, she was pretty sure she wanted to be with him more.

“I’m not sure, though,” she had to add after a brief consultation with her nether regions, which were letting her know in no uncertain terms that they were closing up shop for a while, “how much I’ll be up for tonight. I’m a little sore, tell you the truth. There might not be too much entertainment value in it for you.”

“Aw, geez,” he groaned. “I knew I was too rough yesterday. Why didn’t you say something?”

“Because I still wanted to do it, that’s why.” Because he’d still been jealous, she’d been able to tell. Had been a little possessive. A little demanding. And because that had been so damn hot.

“It’s not a
bad
sore,” she tried to explain, shooting him a quick grin, seeing his reluctant smile in response. “Just a little . . . overused. I need a rest, that’s all. Give my poor overworked ladybits a chance to recover. So what do you think? Still want me?” She waited a little nervously for his answer. He wouldn’t say “no.” Surely he wouldn’t.

“Yeh,” he said with decision. “I still want you. I liked that we had some time yesterday to do normal things too. Walk on the beach, go to the market, cook dinner, read, all that. I’d like another day like that, even though I’ve got some work to do today. And I’d like to sleep with you. I mean,
fall
asleep with you. Holding you. As it’s going to be a while.”

“That’s nice,” she said softly. “I’d like that too.” She felt so mushy inside that she actually took her foot off the accelerator around the next corner. And didn’t make the tires squeal one little bit.

She was past Porirua when she saw the lights in her rear-view mirror. And, a moment later, heard the siren.

“Aw, hell,” Nate groaned.

“He probably just needs to pass,” she reassured him as the white car with the familiar blue checks came up fast. She edged to the left, towards the verge, and, with a sinking heart, saw the car slowing behind her. Heard the
blip
of the siren, pulled over with a sigh that Nate echoed, leaning his head back against the headrest.

“Morning,” the officer said when she’d lowered the window. “Going a bit fast there, weren’t you?”

“Sorry,” she said with a winning smile. Tears didn’t usually work, she’d found long ago. Smiling and apologizing sometimes did, though, and looking as cute as possible. Well, occasionally. Worth a try, anyway.

“May I see your license, please?” he asked.

“Sure.” She reached for her purse in the back seat, pulled out her wallet. But the officer wasn’t looking at her anymore, his gaze arrested by her passenger.

“You’re Nate Torrance, eh,” he said.

“I am.”

The officer seemed less certain. “Sorry. Have to ask for her license, all the same.”

“No worries,” Nate said. “Do what you need to do. You’re right, she was speeding.”

Ally turned and stared at him. “That’s helpful,” she muttered. “Thanks.”

“Miss?” The officer asked. “Your license?”

And that, she found, was that.

When they were pulling away again, the ticket tucked into Ally’s purse, she was finally able to explode. “Oh, that’s just great. That’s just what I needed. Thanks a lot.”

“What?” Nate asked in surprise.

“You’re right, she was speeding,” she mimicked. “Why didn’t you just write the ticket for him?”

“What the hell did you expect me to do?” he asked, not a single bit of sympathy evident in those hard eyes, she saw with a glance across at him. If anything, he looked mad at
her.
“You heard him. You were doing 120. The limit’s a hundred every single bloody place in En Zed, if you haven’t noticed. I offered to drive, said you were going too fast. You didn’t want to listen, and you got pulled over. What was I meant to do about that?”

“Maybe, I don’t know, smile at him and talk about rugby or something? Tell him that you’re late for training? However you do it. I mean, all I’ve got is being cute. But you’re a
celebrity.
So you must know how.”

“Nah, I don’t,” he said shortly. “Just how many tickets have you got? And how many have you got out of?”

“What, ever?”

“Yeh. Ever. How many?”

“Well . . .
ever . . .
Four, that they’ve actually written. But two of those were when I was a teenager,” she said hastily. “And I haven’t had one for a couple years at least. So OK, this was number five. Still not that many, on average. And a hundred’s, what? Sixty miles an hour? Ridiculous. I was barely doing . . .” She did the calculation. “OK, I was going just over seventy. That isn’t that
fast. That’d barely keep me up with traffic in California. And everyone gets tickets sometimes. How many have you had?”

“None,” he answered, still looking upset.

“Really? None? But then,” she realized, “nobody’s going to write
you
a ticket. Not here, they aren’t.”

“Nah, they aren’t, because I’m not going to put anybody in a position where they have to make that decision. Which is why I don’t do 120. I’m meant to be a solid citizen, you know. It matters.”

“You can’t even get a speeding ticket? That’s too racy?” She was still annoyed, but a little fascinated now too. “You’re kidding.”

“No,” he said grimly. “I’m not kidding.”

“Wow. I guess touching me on the beach
was
a really big deal,” she said wonderingly. “Not to mention hauling me off like some kind of Viking raider.”

He groaned. “Don’t remind me. Can’t believe I did that.”

She found her spirits rising again despite herself. “I sure did pull you out of your comfort zone this weekend, then, didn’t I?”

He smiled reluctantly. “Yeh. You did. I’d like to avoid actually getting arrested, if it’s all the same to you. But I’m beginning to think that you’re going to take me straight over to the dark side. Who knows where the bloody hell I’m going to end up.”

Too Much Honesty

Ally slowly rose from a deliciously deep sleep the next morning to the comforting solidity of Nate’s arm across her body. And the awareness of the rest of him, even more solid, pressed against her from behind.

“Mmm.” She wriggled backwards a little just to feel him respond.

“Still sore, I know,” he murmured in her ear. “Just sleep with me a minute more. Let me hold you.”

“Not that sore anymore,” she breathed. Wriggled a bit more. “Not if you’re gentle.”

He groaned softly. And then started being gentle.

She sighed with sleepy pleasure as his hand moved over her, brought her body slowly to life. And when she was ready, he slid into her from behind. Still slow, still gentle, touching her the whole time, all sighs and slow, smooth movement.

No rocketing descent down the hill this time, just the best, the easiest, most delicious glide. And the knowledge that this was Nate. Holding her. Touching her. Kissing her. Loving her all the way there, until she was breathing hard, until slow and gentle weren’t enough anymore. Until he shifted their position, and she felt the pleasure of the change in angle, the increased friction, sharp and sudden, and was gasping with it.

“When I’m gone,” he told her, his breath coming hard now, “I wake up in the night, roll over, wish I had you underneath me. I want to be inside you. Want to hear you. See you. I want you so much.”

His words were all she needed. “Nate,” she got out as the delicious contractions overtook her. “Oh, I love you. I love you.”

She felt his entire body still for a moment. But only for a moment, because he was too close. And then he was joining her, shuddering with it.

“I’m sorry I said that,” she said quietly when they were in her car again. She pulled to a stop at a red light and glanced across at him. They’d had a quiet morning, cooked breakfast together, and she’d watched him pack for the week with an economy that spoke of the hundreds of times he’d done exactly that. He hadn’t said anything, but she’d felt the weight of her declaration hanging in the air between them, and she didn’t want him to leave this way.

“I didn’t mean to,” she went on, feeling a little forlorn when she saw the look on his face. The guarded expression that had been missing lately, when he was with her. “It just slipped out, that’s all. Heat of the moment, you know how it is. You don’t have to worry. No obligation.”

The light changed, and she moved with the traffic again. Waited to hear what he’d have to say. She really had no idea what it would be, except that she was pretty sure she wasn’t going to like it.

“I care about you,” he said after a minute. “I want to be with you. I just . . . I don’t want to say that if I’m not sure. It’s not right.”

“Yeah,” she said, trying not to let the bitterness show. “Like telling her you’re not ready for a relationship right now. Not fair to raise her expectations, have her . . . what did you say? Hoping.”

“It’s a relationship,” he assured her, sounding so uncomfortable that, despite herself, she felt sorry for him. “But I’m not ready to commit to anything. I’ve got something too important to do just now. That’s where my focus is. That’s where it has to be.”

“Ah,” she said. “I see.”

“But I want you,” he went on hastily. “I don’t mean that. I just . . . I don’t know, all right? I keep thinking that we should slow down, that we’re going too fast. But then I’m away from you, and I want to see you again. And then I
do
see you again, and I like being with you so much, and I tell myself it’s just a couple days, that we’re both enjoying it, so why not? But it’s only been a few months. And I have the test matches coming up too.”

“Yeah,” she said. “I’ve got it. The All Blacks.”

“That’s where my focus has to be,” he said again. “I need to keep it there.”

I never have been,
he’d told her when she’d asked him if he wanted to be passionately in love.
Too focused on the footy.

She should have listened then. But it seemed like she never learned, even when the guy could hardly have spelled it out better if he’d been using semaphore flags. Nate wanted sex, and fun, maybe even some closeness. He didn’t want love, or the complications it would bring. She’d come all the way around the world, just to find another guy who wasn’t ready for a commitment. Well, not to a person. Not to her, anyway.

“I’ve got it,” she repeated. “I just have one question.”

“What’s that?” he asked warily.

“How the hell,” she asked, her speed creeping up along with her voice despite her best intentions, “do you feel entitled to be all possessive and jealous like that? Acting like you want me so much that you can’t stand to think of anybody else being with me? Why’d you work so hard to get me if you don’t really want me after all?”