Misplaced Hands: 4 (Foreign Affairs) (11 page)

“Can’t, darl’.”

It was Keith who answered.

She turned, fighting to keep the disappointment from her face. Amazing ménage sex didn’t automatically mean coffee and chatting after. She had to remember that.

Take the sex and squelch any idea of this being the beginning of something impossible, Harper Kirsten Shaw. You’re only here for fourteen days and three of those days have already passed.

“We’re not fucking and fleeing, love.” Marc approached, brushed his lips over her shoulder, his hands skimming her body in a feathery caress. “We’ve got to report in to Hunter about the back paddock mob before he calls it a night. We were rounding them up today, readying them for drenching.”

She frowned, even as her pulse thumped a little faster in her throat. Not fleeing. “Drenching?”

Keith crossed to her, removed his hat, dropped the gentlest kiss on her lips she’d ever experienced and then replaced the hat. “We’ll give you a lesson in being a jillaroo later. Now we gotta get you to the main house for dinner and then see Hunter before the boss kicks our butts.”

He cupped her face, tracing her bottom lip with his thumb. “Dream of us tonight, okay?”

She nodded. There was nothing else for it. Not when he asked with such open, honest desire in his eyes.

He winked. “Bloody brilliant. Now hurry up and get dressed before we decide Hunter can bloody well wait.”

She swallowed, the urge to tell him Hunter
could
goddamn wait almost overwhelming her. “If I must,” she said instead, her chest tight.

Marc dropped his own kiss on her lips as he squeezed her ass. “But tomorrow, after school has finished, the very notion of wearing clothes can go to hell.”

They left her to dress, their gazes raking over her body with open hunger one last time before they turned away.

Which made putting clothes on all the more difficult for Harper, because with every caress of material on her flesh, she imagined it was their touch. Which made her horny all over again.

How was she going to survive dinner at the main house without going crazy?

Or the hours until she saw them again?

The sound of Gotye singing
Somebody That I Used to Know
dragged Harper from the best dream of her life. A dream about two sexy Australian cowboys pleasuring her until she could no longer stand. She blinked in the semidarkness of the room, her heart racing, her blood roaring in her ears.

And realized she wasn’t alone in her bed.

Not your bed, Harper. Not your room.

The befuddled thought scraped at her subconscious a second before a distinctly male voice with a distinctly Australian accent said, “Are you going to get that, love?”

Harper sat upright, squinting at the shadows surrounding her.

Amy’s room. Amy’s bed. And Marc. And Keith…

She let out a hitching breath, reality washing over her.

She was in bed with Keith and Marc. They’d slept together. Actually
slept
together. After a night of the most incredible sex, they’d collapsed into bed and fallen asleep.

Is that surprising? After all, the three of you have done little but fuck for the last few nights.

“I’m all for ignoring the phone at this time of the morning, darl’.” Keith’s mutter drifted up from her left, his hand smoothing over her belly to cup her hip. “But do I have to listen to bloody Gotye constantly?”

“Tell them to bugger off,” Marc grumbled, his hand skimming up the length of her thigh until his fingertips brushed the folds of her pussy.

The song died mid-chorus and Harper let out a shaky breath. Whoever was calling her cell would have to deal with her voicemail now.

“Good.” Keith’s hand slipped down to the curve of her sex, so close to Marc’s fingers at her seam, her belly knotted with wanton anticipation. “Now we can—”

Harper’s cell phone dinged, loud enough to make both men flinch.

“Bloody hell.” Keith let out a harsh breath. “Can’t a bloke make love to a woman in peace?”

“
Blokes.
” Marc’s fingers stroked at her entry, parting the soft flesh there. “Plural, Blue. Plural.”

Her phone dinged again. And again.

Harper’s pulse quickened. Someone was trying to get her attention. And the only someone she knew who was that damn insistent was her brother.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, leaning over Keith to reach for her cell on the nightstand. “I’ve got to get this.”

The cowboy took advantage of her position, capturing her nipple as her breast brushed his face.

She hissed, instant pleasure sinking into the pit of her belly at the sucking pressure of his mouth.

Her fingers fumbled with her cell, forcing her to stretch farther forward. Keith continued to suckle, his deep moan of appreciation vibrating through her just as Marc’s lips found the small of her back.

“O-oh God, you guys,” she stammered, her body reacting to their wicked ministrations even as she snared her phone in a desperate grip. “You really know how to…”

The words died as she read the last text her brother had sent.

I know you’re not at a conference, Harper. I just don’t know where you are. If you don’t answer my text within five minutes I’m contacting the FBI and telling them you’ve been abducted.

“Crap,” she whispered, Keith’s and Marc’s mouths on her body forgotten, “this is so not good.”

“What’s going on, love?” Marc asked.

She flinched, aware both men were now watching her.

Marc narrowed his eyes. “I can’t tell if you’re scared or pissed off.”

She flicked her gaze back to the phone, a distant part of her mind noting it was 7:58 a.m.

Almost eight o’clock Thursday morning in Australia, which made it five o’clock Wednesday night back home.

“Harper?”

Keith’s voice made her lift her head. “Andrew knows I’m not in Chicago. He’s a bit…angry.”

“What do you mean, ‘knows you’re not in Chicago’?” Keith frowned. “Why wouldn’t he know you’re here?”

“I didn’t tell him.” She slid her gaze to Marc. “I told you he was overprotective.”

Keith’s eyebrows rose. “You didn’t tell him you were coming to Farpoint?”

She ran her hand through her hair. “I didn’t tell him I was coming to Australia.”

Marc burst out laughing. “Bloody hell, love. You like to live dangerously.”

“I’ve never done
anything
like this be—” The loud ding from her cell prevented Harper finishing. She dropped her stare to the new text on the screen.

Three minutes, Harper.

She looked up at Keith and Marc, a frown knitting her eyebrows. “Err…I really need to text my brother.”

Keith’s gaze was level. “Text?”

“He’s angry. I can tell. I’m not going to talk to him when he’s angry.”

“And I think that’s our cue to get out of bed, Blue.” Marc spun his legs over the side of the mattress and stood. “We’ve got work to do anyway. Can’t believe we slept in this long. Hunter’s going to kill us.”

Completely naked, he walked to the foot of bed, his ass cheeks bunching and flexing with sublime perfection, and scooped his clothes from where he’d deposited them the night before. If Harper weren’t so damn worried about Andrew discovering her whereabouts, she’d toss her cell aside, crawl down the bed and wrap her fingers around his very impressive morning erection.

“Are you sure you’re okay, darl’?”

She turned back to Keith, finding him perched on the side of the bed, studying her. Concern in his eyes.

“I’m okay, honest.” She wriggled her cell. “Just got a big brother to deal with is all. Will I see you both after school today?”

Keith nodded. “Yep. We’re finishing off the south mob for drenching today. It’ll be a little later than normal. We thought we might take you into Cobar for dinner at the pub. What do you think?”

Her cell dinged again. She jumped, dropping her stare to its small screen.

Two minutes, Harper.

The bed shifted and she looked up at Keith, now standing—just as naked and erect as Marc. “Pick you up later tonight, darl’,” he said, placing his hat on his head. “’Round sixish.”

“’Kay.”

He turned from the bed, snatched his jeans from the air as Marc tossed them at him and strode from the room, his tight, naked butt making Harper’s pussy constrict. Oh man, she’d held that butt in her hands last night. Hell, she’d
licked
that butt. And Marc’s.

“Havagood day, love,” Marc said, fixing his own hat on his head, his jeans, shirt and boots tucked under his arm. “See you tonight.”

He followed Keith out of the bedroom, not in the least bit embarrassed by his nudity as far as Harper could tell.

Her phone dinged.
One minute left, sis.

With a growl, she swiped her thumb across the screen and keyed in a response.
That was not a minute, Andrew.

Her heart slammed into her throat as she waited for her brother to read her rebuke.

It came so quickly she couldn’t help but be amazed how fast Andrew’s thumbs must be moving.
Ha! You are there after all. Now tell me where there is.

Chewing on her bottom lip, she keyed in a response.
Nope. You don’t need to know. Safe. And happy. That should be all that counts.

It didn’t take long for Andrew to text back.
If I call you, you’re not going to answer, are you?

Despite herself, Harper chuckled.
No.

A few seconds later, a new text appeared on her screen.
I’m not happy about this, Harper. At least tell me where you are.

Harper stared at the message, her thumb poised over her screen. She
could
tell him. There wasn’t much he could do about her being here. Apart from getting on the next flight to Australia, followed by the first flight to Cobar, followed by renting a car to drive to Farpoint Creek. Actually, knowing Andrew, he’d probably just get the studio that made his cable travel show to fly him to Oz and then charter a plane direct to the cattle station.

Then he’d arrive in thorough big-brother mode, furious with her. And she’d let him tuck her under his protective wing and take her back to Chicago.

Because that’s what he did—protected her from things that might hurt her. And that’s what
she
did—let him. She loved him and he loved her but it was time she stood on her own two feet. Time to live without fear or shame.

This was her time. Here in Farpoint with Marc and Keith.

This was her moment to truly live. And as much as she loved him, as much as she understood why he did what he did and why she allowed it, if Andrew came to Australia, she’d stop living again. She wasn’t ready yet to disappear back into her shell.

She wasn’t ready yet to say goodbye to Blue and Thomo.

After the last few days—afternoons spent laughing with the cowboys, nights spent moaning with pleasure as they worshipped her body and made her orgasm over and over again—she was wondering if she’d
ever
be ready.

Her cell dinged in her hand, making her flinch.
Are you going to tell me?

Gnawing on her bottom lip, her belly knotting, her blood roaring in her ears, she tapped in her response.
I’m fine. Stop worrying. Be nice to Amy.

She stared at the screen, waiting for his reply.

It didn’t come.

Ten minutes later, it still hadn’t come.

Ten minutes after that, when she laid out Amy’s yoga matt and attempted to stretch the expectant tension from her body, it
still
hadn’t come.

It wasn’t until she was watching her small class enjoy their morning tea in the sun, two hours later, that her phone dinged.

She stood frozen under a shady tree, a Granny Smith apple half raised to her mouth.

Lowering the apple, she slipped her hand into her back pocket and withdrew her cell. Heart racing, she read the messages Andrew had sent her.

Fine.
Have it your way. I won’t keep hassling you about where you are. But I won’t stop worrying. I can’t. It’s what I do, right?

A tight lump filled Harper’s throat and she blinked, the sting of hot tears at the back of her eyes taking her by surprise.

“Goddamn, Andy,” she muttered, “how can you do this to me on the other side of the goddamn planet?”

Her cell dinged in her hand, making her jump.

She swiped at her eyes, glaring at the phone.

Just remember when you get home, YOU told me to be nice to Amy.

Harper frowned, reading the message again. What the hell did that mean?

What the hell does that mean?

The only answer she got was…

:)

Biting back a curse, Harper shoved the offending cell back into her pocket. “I’m going to punch him when I get home,” she muttered. “And I’m going to make sure it hurts.”