Just My Luck (35 page)

She left the slide there, on the projections she’d worked out. Reminded herself for the twentieth time during this short presentation not to look at the screen, at her boards, to keep her eyes on the group around the conference table instead. And that she’d run these numbers again and again. That she was confident in them, and in her proposal.

She looked at the group, lifted her chin, and smiled. “Questions?”

She was grateful once again to Hannah for going over this with her so many times, as she fielded the questions she’d expected with the answers they’d rehearsed. To Liam, and Ally too, for listening to her presentation again and again this past week.

Finally, though, the last question had been asked and answered, the group of buyers and merchandisers was filing out of the room, and it was over.

“Good work,” Anna told her, staying behind as the others left and Kristen gathered her boards, packed up her laptop. “We’ll have to discuss it more, of course, but I was impressed.”

“Thank you,” Kristen said, and this time, the smile was genuine. “Thank you so much.”

“I have to tell you,” Anna confessed, “I wasn’t sure about you at first. I thought Simone had been swayed too much by who your sister is, even how you look. And honestly, I thought you were in over your head at the start. But you’ve surprised me. I think you’ve surprised everyone.”

Kristen put the words away to remember later, because she could hardly focus anymore. “Thank you,” she said again. “I’m really excited to be here, and I want to learn as much as I can. So if you have any suggestions for me, if you don’t mind my asking you questions, I’d love it.”

Anna smiled. “Let’s have lunch next week, then, shall we?”

“I’d love that,” Kristen said. “Thank you.” She had to stop thanking her. But she couldn’t.

She needed to tell Liam, she thought when she’d left the store at last, still riding high. They hadn’t scheduled their usual dinner and movie date tonight. Had stopped doing them altogether after that evening in the carpark. Because despite what he’d said about going slowly . . .

“Kristen,” he’d groaned that night, pulling himself away from her with a visible effort and leaning back against the cushions. “We have to stop. I need to take you home.”

“What?” she asked in confusion, still lying against the arm of the couch. Looked down at herself and hastily pulled her sweater into place, then shoved herself up. The arousal was pulsing in her, and it was as if she could still feel his hand on her breast, his mouth at her throat. And she wanted him to go on. Right now.

“D’you want to do this tonight?” he demanded. “All of it?”

She had to stop and think. Her body was shouting “yes,” but her mind said “no.” That she’d set goals for herself, and she hadn’t achieved any of them yet, and she needed to be sure that she wasn’t looking to a man—even a man as wonderful as Liam—to fill the empty spaces inside her.

“No,” she sighed. “Not . . . not yet. Because it’s not fair to you.”

He put his head back and groaned. “Because it’s not fair to me to let me make love to you. You’re going to have to explain that one, because at this particular moment, it’s feeling pretty bloody unfair
not
to do it.”

“You’re too important to me,” she tried to explain. She could see how aroused he still was. Hadn’t been able to miss that anyway, not when he was lying over her. And she wanted him just as badly. They’d started out holding hands, during the movie. And then his thumb had begun caressing her hand, and just that contact had made her weak. And when she’d shifted closer . . . things had got out of control fast.

“I want to know that it’s right, between us.” She did her best to pull her insistent body back under control and went on, because she needed him to understand. “That you’d be getting a real woman who was with you for the right reasons, not because you’re strong and brave and you can protect me.”

“But, not to have a big head about it,” he said, still sounding pained, “I
am
strong and brave, and I
can
protect you, and I want to do it.”

“I have to know,” she pleaded. “It has to be right. It has to be fair.”

“Right.” He stood up with a sigh. “No more time on my couch, though. I’ll take you home, and I reckon I’ll kiss you in the car. I’ll take you out to dinner next time, and kiss you in the car afterwards then too, I’m sure. But don’t come back to my house until you’re ready for more. Because there’s a limit, and I’ve just reached it.”

And that had been the end of their cozy evenings. She hadn’t been sure how she’d be feeling after the presentation anyway, so she’d made a date with him for Sunday, after his game. A date to go out to dinner, but she’d been thinking it might be more. Because kissing in the car wasn’t enough for her either, not anymore.

A few butterflies made their fluttering appearance when she was standing outside his front door. Maybe she should have texted instead of just showing up on his doorstep. Maybe this was a bad idea anyway. Maybe she should wait until Sunday.

But either he was home, or he was out. And if he were home, he’d want to see her. Surely he would. And anyway, she wanted to see
him.
She’d done what she’d come to New Zealand to do, what she’d needed to do. It was time, and she wanted this. She wanted
him
, and she was going to take him. The first step was to ring the doorbell. She took a deep breath, and did it.

The door was opened, not by Liam, but by a young Maori woman. A
beautiful
young Maori woman. Nearly as tall as Kristen, but built on more statuesque lines, with the glossy black hair, the luminous brown skin and big brown eyes that Kristen had always admired so much. And she was barefoot, her hair tousled. As if . . . as if she’d just got out of bed. Or was just about to go there.

“Yes?” the woman asked.

“Uh . . .” Kristen said, trying to maintain. Because it couldn’t be true. It
couldn’t.
 “I’d like to see Liam, please.”

“Is he expecting you?” the woman asked.

“No,” Kristen admitted, “but he’ll want to see me, I think.”

“Sorry,” the woman said, her eyes hardening. “He’s busy.”

“Wait—” Kristen began.

But it was too late. The door was already closing. And it was true.

“Who was it?” Liam asked, reaching for the remote to mute the replay of the game.

“Some fan, I guess,” Kura shrugged. “Some girl, looking for you. Dunno how she got your address. Are you giving that out to random girls now?”

“Better be more careful, cuz,” Amiri laughed, taking another swig of his beer. “That’s a dangerous road. Get yourself a stalker or two, eh.”

“She was a looker, though,” Kura said. “Maybe I should’ve let her in after all. You may not’ve minded
her
stalking you.”

Liam sat up straighter. “What did she look like?”

“Pretty,” Kura said. “Nah. More beautiful, I’d say. Blonde, tall.”

Liam shot off the couch, ran for the door. Didn’t even stop to put his shoes on. Pounded down the steps to the sidewalk, looked wildly up and down the street. And saw her, just getting into her car, there by the corner.

He came level with her just as she was pulling out. She hadn’t seen him. Not looking, he thought. Lucky nobody’d been coming, or she’d have crashed bang into them. He leaned forward, stretched out, brought his palm down hard on the boot. Saw her head jerk to the mirror, her eyes meeting his. And then she’d braked, stopped the car where it was, half in, half out of the spot.

He was around to the driver’s side in an instant, pulling the door open. No wonder she hadn’t been looking, because she was crying.

“Kristen. Sweetheart,” he said urgently, still breathing hard from his sprint. “Come on. Come back. What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

She shook her head, the tears still falling. Raised a hand in a futile attempt to wipe them away. “It doesn’t matter. It’s fine. You don’t owe me anything. I need to go.”

He stared at her in confusion. “Sorry. I must be slow. What don’t I owe you? What’s fine?”

“I mean . . .” she faltered. “I didn’t think you’d do it, the celibacy thing. I mean, I hoped you would. But you . . .” The tears were coming again.

“I’ll just go,” she said again, reaching for the handle of the door he still held in his hand, giving it a tug that moved it not a bit. “I’m going.”

He began to laugh, the relief overtaking him. Overwhelming him.

“Sweetheart,” he said again. “No. That was my cousin. My
misguided
cousin. Come back, and I’ll introduce you. Just before I turf her out of my house, along with her husband.”

“So,” he said, turning from the door that he’d just shut behind his visitors. Turning to Kristen, standing in the entryway with him. “Time to start again. Time for me to promise you that I’ve done the celibacy thing right along with you, and that I’ll keep doing it just as long as you do, until we’re done. I haven’t cheated on you, and I won’t. Not now, and not ever.”

“Not cheating,” she protested. “You can’t cheat if you don’t have a commitment.”

“Cheating,” he said firmly. “I have a commitment. I have it to myself, and I have it to you.”

“Oh.”

That was all she said, but then she smiled. A smile that started slowly, spread across her beautiful face, and it was as if all the goodness and sweetness of her, every bit of her generous, loving spirit was there in that smile. And then she stepped close, closer than she ever had. Put one graceful, long-fingered hand on each of his biceps, underneath his T-shirt sleeves, and ran her hands over his skin, up to his shoulders, then back down again, all the way to his wrists. Held him gently as she touched her mouth to his in a soft, sweet kiss before she put her hands to his face, stroked her palms down his cheeks, held him there, and kissed him harder.

For a moment, he was so shocked, he couldn’t move. But only for a moment. And then he had his arms around her and was kissing her back, even as he felt her hands reaching down for the hem of his T-shirt.

She broke the kiss, stepped back to pull the shirt over his head, tossed it to the floor, and her hands were on him again, greedy for him. Running from his forearms to his shoulders, palms and fingers stroking down his chest, back up again.

“Liam.” She looked into his eyes. “I love you so much. And I want you so much, I feel like I’m going to die. I need to feel all of you. Please. Please take me to bed.”

He didn’t need to be asked twice. He grabbed her hand, took her up the stairs and into his bedroom, meaning to pull her down onto the wide bed with him. But she was there first, pushing him down, coming over him. Shifting herself further down the bed, bending her head to his chest, running her hands over him, starting to kiss him there. In a circular pattern around, he realized dazedly, the whorls of his tattoo. Coming closer and closer. And, finally, licking over a nipple, her teeth grazing it.

He felt the electricity of it jolt through him. His hands fisted in her hair at the sensation of her mouth against him, her hand caressing his other arm, his shoulder, his chest. And then that hand was moving further down, stroking the length, feeling the breadth of him. Taking him up fast. Much too fast.

“Kristen,” he groaned. Reached for her hand. “Slow down.”

She pulled swiftly back. “I’m sorry. I was too . . . You don’t want me to.”

He laughed, heard the unevenness of it. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more. But if you keep going, it’s going to be too fast. And I need to please you first.”

He rolled with her so she was underneath him, propped himself on an elbow. Reached for her blouse, began to flick open each little button, his fingers tracing a path down the valley of her breasts, over the sensitive skin of her midriff.

“Please, baby,” he murmured between kisses at the corners of her mouth, trailing a path to her ear, feeling her shuddering beneath him. “Wait. Let me love you first. Let me take you all the way there. I need to do it.”

He took his time, just as he’d promised her he would. Just as he’d promised himself. His hands and his mouth learning the secrets of her, navigating every curve and hollow, using her sighs, her moans as his guide. Discovering what she liked, and what she loved. What made her arch against him, and what made her grab his hair and call out loud.

And at last, she was lying there, looking like the most beautiful fallen angel there could ever be, gloriously naked, limp and shuddering, eyes closed, breath still coming hard from the last time, what he could tell had been the best one yet, and he was finally, finally sliding into her. Still slowly, because he wanted to feel every bit of this, and he wanted her to feel it too. Their last first time. He needed to see her eyes fluttering open, feel her arms wrapping around him, hear her sighing his name as her hands reached for him again. Feel her running those hands over his shoulders, his arms, down his back, as if she couldn’t get enough of him.

And still he kept it slow, loving every moment of watching her, listening to her, feeling her around him. He was inside her, but somehow, he was taking her inside himself too. Taking her up again as patiently as he’d ever done anything in his life, staying with her every step of the way.

And if holding on to his self-control had been hard, losing it was the sweetest, sharpest pleasure he’d ever felt. When she was lost in him, convulsing around him, crying out. When he was, at long last, losing himself in her. Saying her name again and again. Coming with her. Coming home.

“We broke our vow,” she said dreamily when they were under the covers and he was holding her against him, stroking his hand over her hair, down her back, just for the pleasure of touching her.

“We did,” he agreed. “Even though we’re still thirteen days away.”

She raised her head in surprise to look at him. “Are we really? Have you been counting?”

“Well, yeh,” he admitted. “But I can do a quick recalculation. And oh, yeh. I miscounted. What d’you reckon, it ends today after all.”

“Good,” she said, and her smile was all the way there now, and he had to kiss her again. “Just in time.”