The Family She Needs

en her mouth opened under his he slipped his tongue inside that sweet cavern and tasted her. When Karina danced her tongue across and around his mouth he lost all sense of everything except this wonderful woman his arms were suddenly wound around. She was exquisite: delicate yet strong, soft yet fiery, sweet yet acid.

A low growl slid across his bottom lip. Karina jerked back, taking that sumptuous mouth with her. Her eyes were filled with some strange emotion he didn’t dare put a name to in case it echoed his own need. Her tongue traced her lips where moments ago his mouth had been, as though she was savouring him.

Then she tamped down hard on all his heat and the sensations racing through his body.

‘Logan, we can’t do this.’

‘You’re right—we can’t.’

But they just had, and he wasn’t ready to stop, no matter how sane and sensible that might be.

She continued as though he hadn’t spoken. ‘It won’t solve a thing. Will make everything worse, if anything. We want different outcomes with this house, with Mickey’s living arrangements, with my life. We need to keep talking, get to know each other so we understand where we’re both coming from and where we’re headed.’

She dropped into one of the armchairs.

Damn, she was so right in one way. But he sought oblivion from the nightmares and where better than in Karina’s arms? Unfortunately it seemed Karina could haul the brakes on far easier than him.

‘I was getting to know you just then.’

He sat opposite her. His mouth still felt the impression of her lips, still tasted her. Still wanted more of her.

Her face hardened. ‘Don’t be flip.’

‘I wasn’t. That’s how I feel.’

‘Tell me about your nightmares.’

Restless, he stood up to move closer to the fire. His skin still held a chill, his feet needed to be moving.

Karina sipped her tea, both hands wrapped around the mug. ‘You said something about a gun the other night. Tonight you swore and mentioned going into your hut. You were very angry.’

She’d got that right. Angry and unable to do a damned thing about it. Not during the nightmare, nor when it had been for real. He’d been caught up in something so big it had been terrifying. The vulnerability he’d known had unnerved him. No wonder he got angry. That worried him. Sure, he could get fired up, like anyone, but it was always short-lived. It wasn’t this gut-deep, almost out-of-control conflagration that consumed him.

Another sip of tea and she was saying quietly, ‘Have you talked to someone about them?’

Them? The nightmares? Or the men who’d done this to him? The shrink had told him only time and talking would help. The horror was locked in his head, sometimes getting as far as his throat, where it blocked off all the words pushing to spew out. Except when he slept. Then he seemed to be able to articulate some of his anger.

‘Yes.’

‘Did it help?’

‘No.’

Yet sitting here with Karina, watching her as she relaxed into her chair, he could feel the red-hot coils in his gut loosening, cooling. She’d done him more good than anyone else had.

The next words he uttered slipped out before he’d finished thinking them. ‘You’ve got the biggest heart I’ve ever known.’

‘That’s one way of telling me to mind my own business.’ After a long moment she said tiredly, ‘I think it’s time I tried to get some sleep.’

As in going to bed. Her bed. Alone. Where he couldn’t hold her or kiss her. Wise woman.

‘Karina?’ he called softly as she reached the door. ‘I’m not ready to talk. Yet.’

But maybe the day would come when he could—with her.

* * *

Karina slid into bed and punched the pillow so it would mould around her neck and keep the cool air out. Closing her eyes, she waited for the sleep she doubted was there for her.

She’d pushed Logan too hard with her questions, as though his kiss had given her the right. Her fingertip outlined her bottom lip. Why did I stop kissing him?

Because there was too much between them—too much in his past, too much everything—to be getting so close to each other. Because, for her, a kiss was more than a smacking of lips. Kissing a man meant something. That man had to touch her in some indefinable way—and Logan did exactly that.

Considering her stance on men these days, her reaction didn’t fit with her need to be independent. And from the few things he’d let slip she doubted Logan wanted a long-term relationship.

His silences were full of stop signals, and yet she kept finding another question to ask, and another. The guy hurt so badly at times that the pain poured out of him. When he came out of those nightmares his eyes glittered with anger and fear and vulnerability. He’d hate it that she saw the vulnerability. He was a man’s man. He took pride in his strength, wouldn’t expect to be bested by anyone. Yet she knew someone had got the better of him.

Who? Why? Where? In Africa, obviously, because he’d only been back in New Zealand a week and this wasn’t new. He had the jaded appearance of a man who’d been through these nightmares many times.

From that blank expression when she’d asked about them, she wasn’t about to find out anything enlightening any time soon, if at all. Everyone was entitled to privacy, but her heart ached to be able to share, to take away some of that pain.

Not going to happen.

And that kiss...? Her lips softened as her forefinger again traced their outline. As far as kisses went it hadn’t been earth-shattering, but it had been damned close. Logan’s mouth on hers had warmed her right to the tips of her toes and made her happy. And excited. For someone intent on a solo life her world had been tipped sideways in a very disturbing way.

‘Kar—ina.’

Mickey.

She sighed as she shoved herself out of bed and groped around in the dark for her slippers and dressing gown. Mickey was quite capable of going to the bathroom on his own. The hall nightlight kept darkness at bay.

‘Coming, sweetheart,’ she called quietly.

‘I need pee-pee.’ Mickey was rubbing his eyes with his fists and looking absolutely adorable when she flicked his bedside light on.

‘You’ll have to cut back on drinks before bedtime if you’re going to keep waking up like this.’

Once in the bathroom, Mickey was happy for her to go and straighten up the mess that was his bed. A restless sleeper, Mickey always managed to tangle his sheets and duvet, and to lose his pillow down behind the headboard.

‘I’m finished.’ Mickey appeared at her side. ‘I want a drink of water.’

‘Not a good idea. You’ll want to go pee-pee again.’

‘I’m thirsty.’

‘How thirsty?’ She felt his brow. No temperature. His face was its usual colour. Had he contracted that tummy bug? ‘Do you feel all right?’

‘Yes, very good. Can I have my water now?’

‘Get into bed and I’ll get it. A very small glass.’

Along the hall she peeked into the lounge and spied Logan, sprawled out in the armchair, those long legs stretched close to the firebox. A gentle snoring filled the quiet.

‘Not returning to your bed again?’ she whispered. ‘Is this your way of fighting the nightmare’s return?’

What would he do if she kissed his cheek or brow, like she did Mickey? She’d never know.

Returning to Mickey’s room, she found him sound asleep. Tucking the sheets up over his shoulders, she gazed down at him. He was so cute it broke her heart. So far he hadn’t had to deal with any trouble from other kids about his Down syndrome, but the day would come and she wanted him to be strong and happy, so that he could cope with any teasing he might encounter.

Back in bed, she let her worries about finding the money to buy out Logan fill he

r mind. What with David getting ill and the surgery overly busy, she hadn’t got around to phoning any other banks to make appointments with their managers. She’d start first thing in the morning. If that failed she’d have to come up with another solution.

Like what? her brain taunted.

The most obvious answer would be to call her father and tell him she would use some of her trust fund after all. But, despite having a sensible reason to do that, she wouldn’t. It would be tantamount to admitting she couldn’t manage without her family’s wealth. No. She’d find another way.

‘Pee-pee, Karina.’

Alarm bells began beeping. Mickey used to have urinary infections regularly, but not lately. Three times in one night was not like him. Did he have an infection? Poor little man didn’t deserve one.

It was nearly six and there didn’t seem any point trying to snaffle half an hour’s shut-eye. In the kitchen she made a cup of tea and sat at the table, opening yesterday’s mail. The power bill was higher than usual, but then she did use the clothes dryer during winter. The rates bill was there. Thank goodness for Jonty taking care of her tyres. He’d saved her heaps.

Maybe Mr Bank Manager did have a point. She wasn’t a good risk for a loan. But she could and would always pay her way, no matter how hard it got. Coming from a background of endless money to spend on absolutely anything that took her fancy, learning to save should have been difficult for her, but it hadn’t. In Motueka she didn’t need loads of new clothes, didn’t go tripping off on exotic holidays. Life had become simple, and she loved it.

Sure, there had been days when it had frustrated her that she couldn’t just hop on a plane to somewhere warm, or cool, or whatever her mood wanted at the time. But she’d soon learned she didn’t need any of that to make her feel good about herself. Realising that Ian had had too much control over her and she was now free had done that.

But right now she did need money, and she wasn’t as free she’d like. She was tied to doing what Logan expected if she didn’t find that pot of gold, didn’t make him see there were other solutions than the one he was hell-bent on.