Sweet Talk Boxed Set (Ten NEW Contemporary Romances by Bestselling Authors to Benefit Diabetes Research plus BONUS Novel) (108 page)

***

He waited, his heart beating a little harder, and she stood up and actually dusted her palms together, then yawned behind her hand. “Yep. Bedtime for me, too. Super tired.”

Was it his imagination, or was she overdoing it? “So…” he said. “You want to go on up, have me give you fifteen minutes? We haven’t gone to bed together before. So to speak.”

“It’s getting a little silly, isn’t it?” she said, and he was definitely having some breathing issues now. “I mean, pretending like we can’t resist each other,” she hurried on. “Why shouldn’t we be able to go up there together and get ready for bed? We’re two adults.”

That was the problem, as far as he was concerned. “Of course,” he said, because there was no way he was saying anything else. “I can get ready for bed with you.”

He walked upstairs behind her, turning off lights along the way. Nothing had changed, he reminded himself as he shut the bedroom door, went to the closet, and hung up his jacket. He got distracted all the same, though, when she took off her earrings and laid them on the bedside table, then began to unfasten her necklace. She was clearly struggling with it, and when she uttered a little exclamation of annoyance, he was obligated to help her, wasn’t he?

“Here.” He came to stand behind her, pushed the hair aside so he could reach the clasp, then took the delicate, fiddly silver thing in his hands and worked at it until it released. A shiver ran over her skin as he did it, the gooseflesh pebbling under his fingers, and he almost bent and kissed her nape, there where she was so soft and vulnerable. Almost.

He caught himself in time, handed her the necklace, then went back around to his side, where he pulled his shirt over his head, reached into the drawer of his nightstand for a muscle tee, and saw her watching him do it, because he was watching her, too. Pity that her jewelry was still the only thing she had taken off.

“It’s a bit like being married, isn’t it?” he said. “Getting ready for bed together without any moves. I’m not used to it.”

“I’ll be unconscious again in about twenty minutes.” She seemed to shake herself out of whatever thought she’d fallen into, grabbed her pajamas out of her own drawer, and went to the closet for her dressing gown. “No need to worry about those unaccustomed thoughts.”

He opened his mouth to tell her that he wasn’t worried, already kicking himself for making any reference to his past, but she was already gone. Almost as if she didn’t trust herself to stay, whatever she had said.

Sure enough, when he came out of the bathroom after getting ready for bed himself, she had her light off, the line of pillows marching down the bed like good little soldiers, and was turned away from his side with her eyes closed.

He slid into bed and switched off his light, shoved his hands behind his head, and stared into the darkness for a minute.

“You know,” he said at last, because he could tell she wasn’t asleep, “if we were really married, I could roll over and give you a kiss good-night. We could do it now, take just the top pillow away, since we’re working on pretending and all, need to keep ourselves motivated. What is it they call that in the States? First base?”

“Maybe in the 1950s they did. And I think we’re all good, pretending-wise. But that would be all I’d get?” He heard the rustle as she rolled over to face his side. “As your non-wife, I have to say, that’s pretty disappointing.”

He had to smile. “What, that wouldn’t be enough? I’d have to perform every night?” He gave a gusty sigh. “You’re a cruel taskmaster.”

“If you were going to be gone half the time, maybe I’d need it. Anyway, you’d leave me hanging like that, after all that talk? If you wouldn’t be up to the challenge—now I’m
really
disappointed.”

“Hmm,” he said, grinning like a fool, “I might be able to manage that. Maybe. I’d have my away weeks to recover, after all. Yeh,” he decided, “reckon I’d have to give it my best shot. Do my marital duty.”

She laughed, and he was lying there on his back, smiling into the dark, separated from her by their wall. “So no kiss?” he prompted. “Not even one pillow’s worth of a cuddle for your jealous non-husband?”

“You going to do that war dance thing while I’m here?”

“You mean the haka? Not a war dance,” he felt duty-bound to point out. “It can be a challenge, it can be a tribute, but it’s not a dance. And yeh, I am. With the All Blacks. You’re going to see it.”

“Then that’s when I’ll kiss you. I don’t imagine I’ll be able to help it, because it sure looked like a war dance to me.”

“Could get up and do it right now,” he suggested. “Take my shirt off again first, too.”

“So tempting,” she sighed. “But I am strong. No pillows. No haka. No kissing. Go to sleep.”

Foot-in-Mouth Disease

He was lying in bed the next morning with his hands behind his head again and watching her put on her makeup in the mirror on the back of the door, which was nothing but a pure pleasure.

“I was thinking,” he said, “that you might want to go for a walk today. Up on one of the forest tracks, maybe.”

She finished filling those lush lips with pink, slicked on some gloss with a finger, then pressed them together in a kiss, and he rucked the duvet up a bit more around him. He didn’t want to go for a walk.

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” she asked. She’d come out of the bathroom in a white tank and tight black trousers that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Now, she went over to the closet, took out a long pale-pink sweater, and tugged it over her head, where it fell off one shoulder, leaving just those two tiny straps showing, the tank and the darker pink bra underneath, and that was almost worse.

She turned to look at him inquiringly, and he realized she’d said something, and that once again, he’d lost the plot. “Pardon?”

“Maybe we should take a break.” She came back to sit on the side of the bed, picked up the delicate necklace she’d worn the night before, a mother-of-pearl wedge with a tiny pearl in the center, and fastened it around her neck. She didn’t need his help this time, unfortunately.

“I mean,” she said, “I’ve got a lot of work to do. I’ve been neglecting everything, just having fun with you. And maybe…maybe we should take a break,” she said again. “It might be better, don’t you think?”

“Uh…maybe.”
No.
“I leave on Monday, though, for Dunedin.” And he’d only have a couple days with her after the game before she left for the States again. So why shouldn’t they make the most of the time they did have?

“With the All Blacks.” Her hands were behind her head, twisting her hair up into that knot again, which was a pity, because he loved it falling around her face.

“Yeh. Finally.”

“It’s been really hard, huh?” she asked, her blue eyes full of nothing but sympathy. “I’m sorry, Will. I know I haven’t said that, but I really am sorry that it’s been so hard.”

He was sorry, too. In fact, he could fairly be said to be suffering. “No worries. Not your fault.” He cleared his throat. “So…nothing today? Could I take you out tonight, maybe? We could go to the Lava Bar afterwards, do some dancing, a bit more pretending.”

“Mmm.” She was still working on her hair, all cozy on the bed with him, and he was dying. “The Lava Bar? That supposed to be hot?”

“That’s the idea.”

“I guess, since you’ve bought my services and all, I should give you your money’s worth, you think?”

“Pretending-wise?” he managed to say. “Yeh. At least we could dance. And be out in public, of course,” he hastened to add. “Someplace where heaps of people would see us.”

She smiled. “Something to look forward to, get me motivated to get my work done. Sounds good. A real date. Well, a pretend date.”

“Better than that fella in Vegas, let’s hope.”

“My failed interview? You still remember that? That was a long time ago. A few first dates ago.”

The thought struck him in all its horror. “You don’t have a…a partner back there, do you? That isn’t why you’ve been saying no to me, is it?”

“Of course I don’t.” She looked nothing but offended. “What, I’d be dating somebody who’d say, sure, go off and pretend to be some other guy’s girlfriend? Would I go out with a guy like that? No, I would not.”

“Oh.” He swallowed against the relief. “Nothing. Stupid idea. I’ll tell you what. I’ll take you to dinner, and then we’ll go dancing, and I won’t ask you where you went to Uni.”

“You not going to be a back-door guy?”

He nearly choked. “You have to stop saying that. Not to a man. No.”

“Oh.” The red was creeping up past that low neckline, as always. “Right,” she went on, trying for brisk. “Dinner and dancing. Sounds great. And I’ll get some work done in the meantime. Were you planning to get up sometime soon? Should I wait for you?”

“Nah. You go on.” It was going to take him a minute to be suitable for viewing. “See you downstairs.”

***

He picked up the pace as he pounded out one more kilometer around the lake. He’d chosen to run to the gym, then do a longer run afterwards, up into the hills, because match-fit was an entirely different animal than gym-fit, and he’d been out of it for ten days now. Besides, he’d needed to do something, since he wasn’t spending the day with Faith, and he’d been restless waiting for their evening out. Their first real date, and he was looking forward to it. You could put it that way. Or you could say that he was dying for it.

He spotted the group of kids in their uniforms ahead, standing about on the beach, bikes flung to the ground around them, and smiled a bit.

It brought back some memories, even though he hadn’t been here much himself. Too much rugby training, because even then, he’d taken it seriously. And once his dad had bunked off, of course, desire had become something much more urgent. He certainly hadn’t been smoking, the way they were. Not cigarettes, and not anything else either. One would have cut into his wind, and the other would have turned up in a drug test and brought his rugby to a screeching halt.

He’d never envied the kids who had been able to hang about together, either. He’d had all the mateship a man could need. He’d loved the structure of rugby, had loved knowing exactly what he was meant to do, in this one area at least. And he’d definitely loved everything rugby had given him. The demands had been brutal, maybe, but the rewards had been worth it. Knowing that you were always giving your best, always being kept to the mark, and that you were providing for everything and everyone you needed to as well.

He recognized the bike before he saw her. A familiar white basket hanging from the front handlebars, with Talia’s backpack stuck into it. She was standing on the beach, facing the water, with a tall figure Will recognized beside her. Somebody who had his arm draped around her shoulders, his head bent much too close to hers.

It wasn’t even a thought. Will’s feet had sped up, had left the track, were crunching over the stones at a pace that had the entire group turning in alarm. He didn’t slow until he was nearly there, running a line that had him circling around and stopping bang in front of Chaz, who had jerked away from Talia and dropped his arm from around her.

“Will?” Talia said. “What are you doing here?”

“No,” he said. “The question is, what are
you
doing here?”

“What d’you mean? I’m hanging out with my friends, aren’t I.” Her voice was rising, already agitated, and he found his adrenaline spiking in response.

“And now you can keep me company on my run home,” he said. “Go on and get your bike.”

“Why?” she asked, her expression exactly the same as it had been when she’d been a little girl and their mum had told her it was time for bed.

He glanced at Chaz, who had one thumb hitched into the waistband of his jeans, his posture all calculated indifference. “Because I don’t like the company you’re in.”

He knew it was wrong as soon as the words had left his lips, and sure enough, Talia was fairly spitting now. “What? Why?” she demanded. “If Mum doesn’t care that I’m here, why should you? You can’t tell me what to do! You don’t even care!”

He moved instinctively towards her, she took a step back, and he realized with horror that she was scared he was going to hit her.

He bit the words back, the ones he wanted to say, because this wasn’t the time, and it wasn’t the place. “We’ll talk about it at home,” he said instead. He fought to get his temper under control, and nearly succeeded. He was always cool. Always. Except right now. “We’re leaving. Come on.”

“Why?”
she asked again, nearly stomping her foot. “Why shouldn’t I stay here and talk to my friends? You can do anything you want, and you get away with it, and nobody says anything? You have nasty pictures taken, you get suspended, you bring your girlfriend here and expect everybody to just say that’s OK, that’s fine, and I can’t even stand with my friends in public, on the
beach?
I’m supposed to just stay home alone? What am I supposed to do? Who am I even supposed to
talk
to?”

“I didn’t say that. And I’ll talk to you. That’s what I’m telling you, that I want to talk to you.” He went for strong and stern and sure. It worked on the paddock, the only place he had to speak with authority. Surely it would work here as well. “I’m sure your friends are…fine.” He looked around at them, at the veiled, uncomfortable expressions, the gazes dropped to study their feet. They
did
look fine. They looked like teenagers. Most of them. “But now it’s time to go home. So we can talk.” About why a nineteen-year-old shouldn’t be interested in her.
Wouldn’t
be interested in her, except that he wanted a girl who’d be impressed. Who’d make it easy.

He should have talked to her the night before, no matter what, should have followed her into her bedroom and said…what?

Should have told her, that was what. Should have explained. Nobody better to do it, nobody who knew more about it.

“Yeh, right,” she said, her voice shaking. “You’ll talk to me like you always do? When you’re even
here?
Which is
never?
Well, I’m not coming! I’m
not!
And you can tell Faith that I’m never, ever taking her anywhere again! Not if everybody’s just going to spy on me!”