Summer Fling (11 page)

Chloe shifted beside him, and for a moment
he thought she was going to get to her feet and run as far away from him as she
could. But all she did was curl her legs beneath her to give herself height and
then lean across him to turn his face toward her, the same way he’d done to
hers on the plane.

“Don’t say that,” she said fiercely. “How
can you say you’re a coward? You’ve been through one of the most horrifying
things a man can undergo—torture, for Christ’s sake. You did what any man would
do in your position—anything you damn well needed to stay alive. You think
there are better, braver men out there than you? You think other men would have
kept their wits about them enough to bribe a guard and escape?”

He lifted his chin away from her hand. “I
did it because I was scared, not brave.”

“Garth, the definition of courage isn’t
doing something without being scared. It’s doing it in
spite
of being
scared.”

“I ran away,” he said hoarsely. “I wasn’t
the only journalist in the prison. I tried to get the guard to set them free
too. But there wasn’t time. I should have stayed, waited to try again, but I
couldn’t bear to pass up the chance to be free. I left them behind.”

She turned his face toward her again and
wiped his cheek with her thumb. Her eyes burned a fierce, bright blue. “I don’t
know you very well. And I’m no psychologist. But it would seem to me that
you’ve been through an extremely traumatic experience. You lived with the
prospect of death hanging over your head every day for... how long?”

“521 days.”

“Jeez, for over a year and a half. An
experience like that must raise questions in your mind of why you’re here. What’s
your purpose; why did God—or whomever else you think is in charge—decide to let
you live?”

He said nothing. Those questions arose in
his mind every night like driftwood in the sea.

“Returning to real life would have been
like returning from fighting in a war. Everyone else stresses over promotions
and overdrafts and mortgages, and you rise every morning and think oh my God,
I’m alive. Everything else must seem so...mundane.”

He met her eyes. “How did you know?”

“Because I can imagine, and I’ve listened,
too, to what you’ve told me, about how jumping out of a plane reminds you that
you’re alive. Most of the time you must feel numb, because it would be hard to
convince yourself that anything matters after what you’ve been through. But
jumping out of planes, being outside, feeling the sun on your face, must feel
real.”

He studied her heart-shaped face, the
compassion in her eyes. “Yes. That’s exactly it.”

Chloe nodded. “How frustrating for you. How
did your father react when you were taken prisoner? What happened when you came
out?”

“I discovered he’d died three months before
I escaped.”

“Oh, that must have been difficult for
you.”

He shrugged. “Apparently he did everything
he could to set me free. Bribed officials, phoned the White House, flew out
there himself to talk to people, but nothing worked. Jake and Ian said it
killed him.”

“God, Garth, I’m sorry.”

He gave a long, heartfelt sigh. “It all
feels kind of fake, you know? Before they captured me, we hardly spoke. I’ve
seen his pleas on TV since, and listened to Jake and Ian tell me how much he
did, but I can’t quite believe it.”

“That’s perfectly understandable.” She took
his hand, turned it over in her own, and stroked his palm with her thumb.

“I thought he’d have cut me out of the
will, but he left me a fortune. I guess he hoped I’d get out eventually. I’ve
hardly touched any of it though. I can’t bring myself to spend it.”

“That’s not surprising. You’ll get better.
You just need time to heal.”

He swallowed. She was being so nice. He
owed it to her to tell her the whole truth. “There’s something else.”

She pulled back a little, but she didn’t
let go of his hand. “Okay.”

He met her gaze. “I was married.”

He’d expected her to exclaim, to jump up in
shock, but instead she just surveyed him calmly. “I’m not surprised you were
snapped up.” She smiled. “Can you tell me about her?”

“Jess came from New Zealand. I met her on
holiday and moved out here with her.”

“She must have been frantic when you were
captured.”

He couldn’t stop his lips twisting at that.
“Not quite, no. You see, when I finally got back, I found out she was seeing
someone else.”

Chloe stared at him. “You’re kidding me?
She knew you’d been taken prisoner, right?”

“Yep.”

“But that’s…” Pity filled her eyes. “That’s
awful.” Her eyes widened as realization dawned. “Oh God, the man she had an
affair with. It was Nick Stewart, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Did he know about you? That her husband
had been captured?”

“Yes.”

“Fucking hell, that’s terrible.”

“That’s not the worst of it.” He clenched
his fists. “I thought about her continually while in that place. Before I went
away, we’d had a few problems, and I decided when I returned I was going to
make the marriage work. But she refused to even try. She moved out of the house
and in with Stewart. And then, one night, he was driving them home from a party
and he crashed the car.”

Tears shone in Chloe’s eyes. “What
happened?”

“She died.”

“Oh, Garth.” She bit her lip. “Was Nick
drunk?”

“Apparently not. The Police interviewed him
for hours, but let him go eventually. They said it was just an accident.”

“But you don’t believe that.”

He studied her hand where it still lay on
his own. He couldn’t tell her about the investigation he’d had carried out on
Stewart because he couldn’t bear her to know just how screwed up he really was.
But he knew that Stewart had an uncle on the local Police force. He couldn’t be
certain, but he suspected the breath test Nick had undergone on the night had
been altered to make it negative.

They sat quietly for a while. He let her
process the news. Calm descended on him now he’d got it all out in the open, as
if he’d opened a door in his soul and let all the raging emotions fly free.

Chloe frowned. “How come Nick didn’t
recognize you though? Why didn’t he know your name?”

“We never met before Jess died. And
afterward…” He hesitated. Should he tell her? He might as well, after confiding
nearly everything else. “I changed my name. I couldn’t bear all the media
attention. I just wanted to escape. So I took my middle name and my mother’s
maiden name. I wanted to be someone different. I’ve tried to move on. But it’s
not been easy.”

“Why do you live here, when you could bump
into Nick at any time? Why not move to the south island, or back to the
States?”

He couldn’t tell her the real reason—that
he wanted to see the look on Nick’s face when he eventually broke him. He
didn’t want her to know about his desire for revenge, and what a small person
he was. “I love it up here. I moved to the bay after she died—we lived in
Kaitaia before I went away. I didn’t actually realize he lived so close.”

She seemed to accept that. “What’s your
real name?”

“Rick Taylor.” The words stuck in his mouth
like toffee. It sounded strange, as if he was talking about someone else.

He put his other hand on hers where it
still lay across his fingers. “I hope you don’t feel I lied to you by not
telling you everything immediately. Being captured—it changed me, made me
cautious and untrusting. I wasn’t like that before. I’m not Rick Taylor
anymore. I
am
Garth Rowland now.”

“I understand. I know what the media’s
like.” She squeezed his fingers. “I’m so sorry you’ve been through so much. I
can’t imagine how hard it’s been.”

“It means a lot that you even say that,
Chloe. By the way, nobody knows except Mat.”

“It’s okay. I won’t tell.”

Her eyes had seemed to darken as the light
faded and they now appeared the color of the night sky, a deep and vibrant
blue. He’d handed her his heart on a plate. What was she going to do with it?

Chloe studied the face of the brave man
before her, her heart going out to him. Part of her felt sad that he’d loved
someone else so deeply, but she forced herself to push away that selfish
thought. He’d lost his wife, probably long before she actually died. He looked
exhausted now, emotionally wrung out, and she yearned to comfort him, to give
him solace.

She glanced up at the Milky Way splashed
across the sky as if someone had dropped a huge bucket of stars and spilled them
across the inky blackness.

“Orion’s bright tonight,” he said.

“I don’t know much about astronomy. Always
wish I did, though. Tell me about him.”

He moved closer to her, leaning against her
shoulder as he pointed out the constellation. “He was a hunter in Greek
mythology. The most prominent stars are in his belt there.” He indicated the three
stars in a line. “He’s upside down here, in the southern hemisphere. That star
at the top left, which actually marks his left foot if you imagine him facing
you, is called Rigel. It’s the sixth brightest star in the night sky.” He
smiled. “Orion’s the name of my dog.”

“Where is he?”

“A friend’s looking after him. He doesn’t
like crowds.”

“Like you,” she said.

He gave a short laugh. “Yeah.”

“I understand why you like looking at the
stars. They make you feel free, don’t they? As if you’re one of them, out there
in the galaxy, floating, limitless.” She glanced at him, surprised to see him
watching her. “What?”

He shook his head. And then, before she
could say anything else, he slipped his hand to the nape of her neck and kissed
her.

She turned to him and returned it hungrily,
wanting to comfort him, desperate for the press of his lips against hers. Why
did she want this man so much? He was damaged goods—she should run a mile. But
she threaded her hands into his hair, kept him still so she could kiss him thoroughly
and show him how much she desired him.

When she eventually drew back, she tried to
ignore the angel that stood with hands on hips, saying,
I thought you said
you weren’t going to fall into bed with the first man you met?

I’ve met lots of men
, she told the angel firmly.
He’s not the first, just the best.

And anyway, shut up.

She took a deep breath and gathered her
courage. “Do you want to join me in my tent?” She stroked his cheek. “I’m
certain Stella will be staying with Alex tonight.”

He met her gaze. “Are you offering me pity
sex?”

Oops. Had she insulted him? “Oh. Um. Of
course not.”

“Only I was going to say that if that’s the
case, no worries and the answer’s yes.”

She giggled and kissed him again.

“I have to be honest though,” he said, “I’m
not great in tents. Too confined.”

“It faces the sea. We’ll leave the flap
open so we can see the stars. And I’ll be with you. I’ll see what I can do to
distract you.” She’d never been great at seduction. Time to give it a try.

She gave him her best wicked smile. “Don’t
you want to see what’s under my bikini?” Encouraged by the sudden intensity of
his gaze, she brushed his lips with hers, then caught his bottom lip between
her teeth and grazed it gently. “Don’t you want to take my breasts in your
hands, my nipples in your mouth...?”

“All right, you talked me into it.” He
stood and pulled her up with him.

Laughing, she followed him along the sand,
casting a quick look back at the house. Nobody was watching them. And even if
they were, what did it matter? They were both single, consenting adults. They
weren’t hurting anyone.

They reached her and Stella’s small tent,
facing the sea, and she unzipped the doorway and tied back the flaps so they
could see the water and the sky from inside. The moon hung low, casting a
gentle light over the view. She crawled into the tent after him and could just
see him outlined in faint silver, his eyes glittering.

“Oh.” She bit her lip. “I just thought. I
don’t have any condoms.”

He stared at her and then retrieved a
wallet from his pocket. “I think I have one in here, although it’s probably a
priceless artifact by now.” He found it and said triumphantly, “Yes!”

Giggling again, she moved the two thin
mattresses together and lay on the front one. He curled around behind her so
they were facing the view and pulled her back against him, his arm tight around
her waist. He was so much bigger than her, all height and breadth and muscle,
so ruggedly male she shivered with desire.

She looked over her shoulder. He was gazing
out at the sea but glanced down as she said, “Are you okay?”

He smiled slowly. “I’m more than okay.” He
nuzzled her neck. “You smell like heaven. Chocolate and sun cream and salt.”