Authors: Tracey Alvarez
My Forever Valentine: New Zealand Happy-Ever-After Romance (Due South: A Sexy New Zealand Romance Book 5) (2 page)
She pressed her nose—icy cold, as usual—into the crook of his neck and slid her arms carefully around his waist, snuggling all her delicious curves up close and personal. He hadn’t realized he’d been so tense until he melted into her.
“The roses are beautiful,” she said. “And I can’t wait to bake you some of your favorite cinnamon scrolls with real cinnamon.”
“Nailed it, huh?”
“You’re the Valentine’s Day king, Del.”
“So you came all the way here to thank me for the flowers?” He chuckled into her hair.
A strand tickled his nostrils and he scrunched up his nose—sneezing would be a really bad idea.
“Nah. I had some excess macaroons from Bree’s birthday yesterday.” Her lips brushed his throat, sending all sorts of haywire sensations skittering up and down his spine. “Thought you might like the leftovers.”
“You brought me macaroons?”
He tugged her ponytail, and she pulled back to smile her dazzling smile at him.
“Among other things. Get into bed, Hollywood, and I’ll show you.”
“You know I love it when you go into bossy chef mode.” He released her reluctantly and climbed onto his bed. Goddamned narrow, uncomfortable thing.
She unzipped her backpack and removed a small plastic container.
“For later,” she said, setting it on his bedside cabinet.
The movement caused the neckline of her coat to gape, exposing a hint of white fabric and the even more tempting glimpse of boobage. Boobage, as opposed to cleavage, which in his opinion was manipulated by those fancy shove-up bras that some women used. His woman, however, didn’t need fancy bras to make him pant like a hound dog.
“What else have you got for me?” Del crossed his ankles and laced his fingers behind his head. “A nice little heart-shaped card telling me how much you love me?”
She snorted. “As if you don’t already know that.”
Yeah, she loved him. And he didn’t need Hallmark to convince him.
He tipped his chin. “Gonna take off your coat, cupcake? It’s pretty warm in here.”
The hospital didn’t seem to realize it was summer outside, and therefore, the heating in the rooms made even a tee shirt and pajama pants feel as if he was kitted up for Antarctica.
“It
is
kinda toasty.” She unbuttoned the two top buttons of her coat.
Silky, lightly-tanned boobage barely trapped by a white, low-cut top…
Del’s pulse would’ve blown a heart-rate monitor if he’d been hooked up on one.
Shaye finished undoing the buttons and loosened the coat’s ties, flipping the edges open to reveal a short white dress barely covering her to mid-thigh, a tiny apron with a red cross in the center tied around her waist, and, peeping just below the hem of her dress, a pair of lace-trimmed stockings. She shrugged off the coat and tossed it on the end of his bed.
Holy.
Shit.
He yanked a hand out from behind his head and reached for her. Shaye took half a step backward and slapped his hand. “Don’t touch; I need to check your vitals first.”
His sexy nurse turned and bent over the chair, rummaging in her backpack. The dress slid up over her ass, exposing teeny tiny pink panties that had almost disappeared into her ass cheeks.
Make that his sexy evil nurse.
He was gonna end up back in surgery, for sure—this time having suffered a cardiac arrest. Del swallowed, tried to speak, failed, tried again.
His voice came out raspy, as if he’d been choking on crackers. “I thought you said you’d wear crotchless panties the day you started baking muffins out of a box?”
She straightened, smoothing down her skirt and hooking a kid’s plastic stethoscope around her neck. “It’s our first Valentine’s Day together. I wanted it to be memorable.”
“Oh, cupcake, I’ll never forget this,” he said as she sashayed over to his bed and sat on the edge.
She leaned over him, resting her forearm on his chest to keep him pinned, and then kissed him. He got punch-drunk from the taste of her, from the feel of her silky nylons under his fingers as he ran a hand up her thigh. Maybe he’d donate a body part more often if he could get quality after-care like this…
Muffled snickers and someone clearing their throat jabbed into his eardrums—followed a micro-second later by Shaye wrenching her mouth from his. She whipped her head around so fast he had a moment’s concern about whiplash, then his gaze shot past her to the doorway.
Ben and Piper stood side by side, arms folded. Piper, with lips pressed together and hazel eyes dancing with humor. Ben, with lips pressed together and his brown eyes dancing with threats of disembowelment.
Things just got interesting…
***
If it were possible for a person to trigger self-detonating spontaneous combustion, Shaye would’ve fried herself up in that instant.
As it was, the hot flush of blood spreading up her body whoomphed into her cheeks and made her feel like Mrs. Brailsford, who was always telling anyone who’d listen about her menopausal hot flashes.
She licked dry lips then blurted, “What are you two doing here? And haven’t you ever heard of knocking?”
Her big sister grinned at her. “Sorry, nursie. We had to sneak past Nurse Ratched, and since Bill was sleeping, we decided to check on the Hollywood hero.”
Nursie…
Shaye’s mortification rose a notch as the chest piece of the plastic stethoscope bumped against her thigh—her stocking-covered thigh upon which Del’s hand still rested. She snatched up her coat and draped it over her legs, hauling the top half up to cover the girls who were almost busting out of the low-cut dress.
Damn those cheap Halloween costumes!
She shoved Del’s hand off and cleared her throat. “Yes, well, visiting hours aren’t for another thirty minutes—and aren’t you two meant to be on a shark dive expedition?”
“Had three clients come down with bad seasickness; they called the rest of the afternoon off,” her brother said. “Thought we might as well come for a visit and pick up another anti-seasick bracelet for Pipe, who also barfed big time.”
Shaye didn’t need to turn her head to know Del was grinning behind her.
“Nice as it is for you to grace us poor invalids with your presence,” Del said, “and I mean this in the most loving, future-brother-in-law-ish way—but piss off, we’re busy.”
Her brother’s eyes slitted as Del’s hand dove under the folds of her coat, returning to her leg.
“I can see that,” Ben growled. “And if you hadn’t put a ring on it already, I’d be ripping off that arm of yours, invalid or not.”
Piper kicked Ben’s ankle with her purple combat boot. “Oh, shut up. It’s not as if we haven’t caught you and Kezia snogging in some dark corner more than once. Besides, this is payback for Del walking in on West and me last year.” She wriggled her eyebrows at Shaye and Del.
The tips of Ben’s ears warmed to a glowing pink. “C’mon, Stubby, let’s go and see if the hospital shop sells puke-preventing bracelets.” He glared at Shaye, but the corner of his mouth twitched with the beginnings of a smile. “And maybe see if a doc will prescribe something to scrub this image outta my head.”
After Piper and Ben left, Shaye turned back to Del. His eyes were warm with laughter. It was so good to see him smiling again. The worry and stress that had gathered over the last couple of weeks over this upcoming surgery had faded.
She cupped his jaw, gently scratching her fingernails down the scruff on his cheeks. “Maybe this wasn’t one of my better thought-out plans.”
“Oh, I dunno.” His voice, gruff with desire, sent a delicious shiver skating down her spine. “We’ve still got at least thirty minutes before we’re disturbed again, even if you did forget one crucial step.”
“What step would that be?” Removing the hideously uncomfortable tiny pink panties would be a great start.
Del gestured with his chin behind her shoulder then ripped the coat out of her hands and tossed it over the other side of the bed. The warm affection in his gaze turned to blazing hunger, and Shaye clenched her thighs together. She knew that look well.
“Pull the privacy curtains, Nurse Harland,” he said with a panty-melting grin. “And I’ll give you another Valentine’s present.”
###
Read Shaye & Del’s full story…
Ready To Burn (Due South Book 3)
Take one sassy Harland girl…
Shaye Harland, sous chef de-awesome, desperately wants the role of Due South’s head chef. Though a little out of her depth, she can totally cope with the extra demands if she can resist her future brother-in-law when he muscles in on her kitchen. The Hollywood wannabe is nothing but a troublesome distraction and he fries her sex-ometer to a crisp. But as far as romance? Forget it. Love, when she finds Mr. Perfect, will be as sweet as her to-die-for cookies.
Add a bad-boy from LA…
Del Westlake swore he’d never again set foot on the island he calls the “ass end of New Zealand.” With his reputation as a sous chef in one of LA’s hottest restaurants trashed, and his estranged father’s restaurant needing a head chef, Del wants nothing more than to go in, get the job done, and get out. Except his feisty second-in-command carves herself a spot in his heart and completely incinerates his plans.
Watch the sparks fly as they burn it up in the kitchen…
Winning a spot on a TV reality show is just what Del needs to jumpstart his career back in the States. Nothing can get in the way of him winning—not even the woman whose trust he’d destroy if she discovers his secrets. But with a film crew capturing the explosive kitchen chemistry between them, will his bad-boy ways rear up and ruin his shot at becoming Shaye’s Mr. Perfect?
Helluva way to spend Valentine’s Day.
Piper hung onto her porcelain throne as the Mollymawk wallowed into a trough and then rolled up the other side. Her stomach lurched again and she hung her head. Goddamn it. She’d be writing the manufacturers of the so called seasickness-preventive bracelet a nasty,
nasty
letter, since the stupid thing had apparently just stopped working.
Another wave of nausea churned through her. Piper brushed an arm across her sweaty forehead and gripped the toilet bowl edge with the other hand.
During the first few hours of the morning’s shark dive tour, she’d been fine. Put her in a wetsuit and lower her into the ocean in a metal cage with a couple of Great Whites cruising around, and she was in her element. Nothing scared her or made her want to puke underwater.
Part fish, was Piper Harland.
But none of that bravado helped once the sea around Stewart Island got choppy. Not even the fun of catching Del and her sister fooling around could distract her from her current misery.
No, only West could do that. Closing her eyes, she pictured her husband’s face. He’d still be at Due South, working his ass off, since Bill and Del were still in hospital. But he’d be home by eight for the special Valentine’s dinner she’d promised him.
The Mollymawk’s engines powered down, the boat slowing. A minute later, a knock sounded on the bathroom door.
“You okay, Pipe?” Her brother’s voice was tinged with concern.
“Be right there,” she said. Just as soon as she’d finished transferring her stomach lining to the damn toilet bowl.
Maybe she’d feel better with some fresh air up with Ben in the wheelhouse.
Piper hauled herself upright and ran the taps, washing her hands and splashing cold water on her clammy cheeks. She headed up to the wheelhouse, weaving a little drunkenly. Although the Foveaux Strait wasn’t as rough now as it had been two hours earlier when they’d returned their clients to the mainland, the constant rolling made her legs wobbly and uncoordinated.
“You could try acupuncture,” Ben said by way of greeting as she entered the wheelhouse and slumped in a helm seat. “I’m happy to stick some needles in you.”
“Right now, I’d let you stick a bullet in me.” Piper draped an elbow over her face and waited for death to claim her.
“We could’ve stayed in Invers.”
“No, we couldn’t. I’m making a special Valentine’s dinner for West tonight.”
“Valen?—Oh, shit.” Ben jerked his head toward her. “That’s today? Kez didn’t say anything this morning.”
Piper cracked open an eye at her poor, pathetic excuse for a brother. “You’re dead meat, aren’t you?”
“Yeah.” Ben scratched his neck and scowled. “What are the odds of Russell’s still having a bunch of flowers when we get back?”
“About the same as me not hurling again before we reach the wharf.”
“Funny that those bracelets have suddenly stopped working. You’re not preggers, are you?”
Piper’s gut lurched again, followed in an instant by her heart plummeting into the depths of her stomach. Pregnant? Her gaze shot to her brother’s, and his eyes bugged open.
“Don’t.” She held up a warning finger. “Don’t you even think about saying anything to anyone.”
Ben gripped the wheel, his knuckles pale under his tan. “Bloody hell—are you?”
Oh. God. Could she be? No birth control—other than abstinence, of course—was one hundred percent effective, and there was that one time, after a seven-day-dose of antibiotics, when West had woken her for some morning delight, and since she’d felt fine, they’d…but they’d used…hadn’t they?
She lurched upright and wrapped her arms around her middle. “I don’t know. I mean, I’ve never been super regular, but—”
“No-no-no-no.” Ben clapped his hands to his ears. “No girly details. I’m still traumatized by not knowing the difference between liners and wings and maxi pads when Kez made me take an emergency run to Russell’s a couple of weeks ago.”
Piper rolled her eyes. “You’re such a walking cliché, Ben Harland.”
“Yep.” He removed his hands from his ears and dug out his phone from his hip pocket. “So call Kez or Shaye or Mum, I don’t care. I’ve had enough female stuff dumped on me from my sisters already today.”
Piper grabbed his phone and hit speed-dial to Kezia. With any luck, her friend still had the mail-order pregnancy test she hadn’t used last year. Tingles ran up and down Piper’s spine as the phone bleated in her ear. As a teenager, she’d thought she’d carried West’s child and had been devastatingly wrong.
She couldn’t bear to be wrong again.
***
In a flash of inspiration, Piper googled a recipe for bread rolls and made up a batch. Okay, they looked a little dubious, she thought, sliding the tray of odd-shaped dough balls into the oven. But West would get a kick out of her announcing, “I’ve got a bun in the oven,” if she was pregnant. And if she wasn’t…
Piper’s chest hitched and she placed a hand between her breasts, forcing herself to take a long, steady breath. And if she wasn’t…well, the dinner rolls would be a nice addition to the dish of lasagne she’d slaved over.
She cast a glance at the small cardboard box on the countertop. After disembarking on the wharf, she’d sworn Ben to secrecy and gone straight to Kezia’s. With Zoe’s and Jade’s voices drifting down the hallway of her friend’s little villa, Piper had opted not to go inside. Instead, she’d taken the little paper bag from Kezia and accepted a quick, fortifying hug and a whispered, “You’ll call me tomorrow,
cara
?”
Piper had eyeballed the box over and over for the last hour, her hands shaking every time she glimpsed the close-up photo of a plastic stick with two pink lines. Exhaling, she tried to imitate West’s Pranayama yoga breathing she often teased him about. Couldn’t do it. Could barely stretch her lungs to half capacity before air gusted out of her in a shuddery gasp.
A baby.
Unexpected, unplanned for but never, ever, unwanted. She didn’t doubt for a moment West would be over the moon at the prospect of daddyhood—and what an amazing daddy he’d be. And her? How did she feel about a mini-West or a mini-her? Muscles tightened involuntarily around her stomach, and her pulse stuttered.
Like she’d been clubbed with a two by four
. She couldn’t wrap her brain around the idea yet, and besides… Better not to get her hopes up. She’d do the test now, and if it were negative? Well, she wouldn’t ruin this special night with her husband.
Piper snatched up the box and headed toward their bedroom en suite.
***
West strode into his house as if his pants were on fire. Delicious, yeasty smells drifted down the stairs to greet him, but he didn’t pay them any attention.
His woman was sick.
And goddamn it, instead of her calling him, he’d had to hear from his brother-in-law and best mate that she’d been puking her guts out most of the day.
He took the stairs two at a time, yelling her name.
“In here,” she shouted from the direction of their bedroom.
The quivery note in Piper’s voice shot a bolt of adrenalin into him. Muttering about stubborn, pig-headed women, West hurried into the room. The bathroom door was closed, so he wrenched the handle down, but the door remained shut.
“Pipe, are you sick again?” He jiggled the handle. “Unlock the door!”
“No. I’m fine.”
There was that quiver again, and this time she added a wet snuffling sound.
“I’ll be out in a minute,” she said.
“What’s happened?” His stomach clenched into a ball of hissing snakes. Two seconds of silence ticked past, during which time his blood pressure rocketed. He swore and banged on the door. “Dammit, you’re crying, and I will kick this bloody door in if you don’t unlock it right now.”
Rustling noises sounded from inside the bathroom. “I can’t come out until I pee. And I can’t pee.”
He heard her clear as anything, which meant she must be standing right opposite him with only wood between them.
If he’d been a cartoon character, a thought bubble with the word
huh?
written inside it would’ve appeared above his head. He pinched the skin between his eyebrows. As if that’d help him understand his wife.
“Baby, remember the bit in our vows when you promised to love and obey me? Now would be a great time to put that into practice. Please open the goddamned door.”
“I never promised to obey you,” she muttered, but the click was loud in the silence, and then the door swung open.
His pulse stuttered as he took in her red-rimmed eyes and mussed hair. He glanced over her shoulder, and his pounding heart all but catapulted out of his chest. There, behind her, on the sink counter and reflected in the mirror, sat a box with ‘etarucca %99 revO’ emblazoned on the side. His stunned brain flipped the words an instant before his gaze dropped from the mirror to the white plastic stick resting on the box top.
Over 99% accurate.
“I wanted to surprise you when you got home,” his beautiful and possibly pregnant—
holyfuckinghell
—wife said with another sniff. “But I’m too nervous to pee.”
His tongue was glued to the top of his mouth, and he couldn’t say anything at all. So he wrapped his arms around her and held on tight, burying his face in her hair, the faint scent of coconut from his conditioner she insisted on stealing curling into his nose.
“You really think you could be?” His heartbeat sent waves of hot blood pounding past his eardrums.
She tensed against him for a moment then relaxed, her head nodding beneath his nose. Rubbing his hand up and down her spine, he cleared his throat of the shit-load of emotion clogging it.
Daddy…
“You’ve tried drinking lots of water?” he asked. “And running the taps? The old sound-of-water trick?”
Piper pulled back and gave him one of her five patented looks. The one that said, “Seriously? Do I look that dumb?”
A little boy or girl with their mother’s hazel eyes and reddish-brown hair…
“For over five minutes,” she said. “Nothing.”
He shrugged. “Well, you know what usually works…” Then he cracked a small smile—because pregnant or otherwise, being this close to his wife was having an effect on a certain part of his anatomy. “I could help.”
The corner of her mouth curled up. “You’re that good, huh?”
West gripped two handfuls of Piper’s gorgeous ass and lifted her onto the bathroom sink, settling himself between her thighs.
“Yeah,” he said, sliding his hands up to the clip of her bra. “I’m that good.”
***
As a former diver with the New Zealand National Police Dive Squad, Piper’s training taught her to remain calm under severe stress. Underwater was a really bad place to panic. So she’d learned control, discipline, patience.
But somehow standing with her husband’s arms wrapped around her, waiting for colored stripes to show up on a plastic strip was harder than the mandatory, three-minute safety stop on a thirty meter dive.
“Anything?” His lips brushed her neck, tugging the collar of her robe aside to feather kisses on her shoulder.
She slitted her eyes, giving the stick the old I’m-a-cop-and-you’ll-do-as-I-say glare. “No.”
“We could’ve waited naked,” he grumbled against her skin. “At least we’d have something to look at other than the damn stick.”
Her gaze flicked to West’s broad shoulders covered in the thick towelling robe she’d bought him for Christmas. “Clothes on, Westlake. This is a serious business that can’t be conducted while you’re ogling my tits.”
“They’re very nice tits, darling.” Blue eyes nailed her in the mirror. “But being naked is not why you’re tense enough to shatter.”
For a moment, she just stared at him, trying to see the man behind the husband.
A man who’d been her childhood friend. The kid who’d climbed trees with her, let her tag along on adventures with him and Ben. He’d been her first love, the young man who, instead of taking her virginity, had exchanged it for nights of warm exploration, passion, and laughter. He’d also been the only man to break her heart into tiny pieces—pieces she’d never been able to glue back together again. Until the day she’d come back to Stewart Island after a nine-year absence to help her brother.
While the husband reflected in the mirror loved her more than anything else in his world, fear clawed at her that the man didn’t want two lines to show up on the strip as much as she did.
She licked dry lips, glanced down at the strip again.
Goddammit!
Still blank.
“We never planned to have a baby so soon,” she said.
His arms tightened around her, drawing her closer. “We never planned to fall in love, either, and look how well that turned out.”
“We are the poster couple for marital bliss.”
“We’re sickenly good at being newlyweds.” He nuzzled her ear. “I caught your sister making finger-down-throat gestures at us the other day. Everyone’s jealous.”