You’d have a lot of great sex.
Not necessarily. They could avoid that. It wasn’t as though they were going together-together, right?
Tell that to someone who’ll believe you.
The little gremlin that had flattened her car battery and made her fall asleep in the hot tub now had her saying, ‘It would have to be the first week of July.’
*
Zac shoved his hands deep into his trouser pockets as he strolled along the Viaduct beside Olivia. At one-thirty in the morning, in the middle of winter, they were the only ones crazy enough to be out here, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Why the hell had he agreed to go to Fiji? His brain had to be fried from too many hours in Olivia’s company. No other explanation popped up. Accepting he wanted time out with her went against everything he strived for. His hands clenched at his sides. What if he liked Olivia even more by the end of the trip? He liked her too much already. Her beauty, her wit, her sense of fun, and her concern for others. He’d pushed her to go away to a place that was all about romance. Romance. A subject he knew nothing about. And didn’t want to. That would be like rubbing salt into the wound.
Olivia would be regretting her acceptance of Paul’s generous gift. But she would never back down. Not now that others had heard her accept.
Zac sighed unhappily. He was as bad as Olivia. Paul had challenged them both, and he’d fallen for it. Given in to the emotions that had been battering him since he’d arrived at the hotel. To have spent his entire adult life avoiding commitment only to find himself well and truly hooked didn’t bear thinking about.
A gust of rain-laden wind slapped them. Olivia pulled her jacket tight across her breasts and folded her arms under them. Her face looked pinched—from cold or from anger at herself for agreeing, he wasn’t sure.
Taking her elbow, Zac turned them around. She was shivering. ‘Come on. We’ll go to my apartment. The weather’s about to dump a load of wet stuff and getting soaked doesn’t appeal.’
‘I should go back to the hotel.’ She didn’t sound convinced.
‘We need to talk about what we’ve got ourselves into.’ Then he might feel happier. Might. ‘I’ve got wine in the chiller. Or there’s tea, if you’d prefer.’ He also had a huge bed, but doubted he’d get a hug for mentioning that.
‘Why didn’t you tell Paul no?’ she asked when they were in the elevator, heading up to his apartment.
Initially he had. ‘Maybe I want to go.’
‘Do you? Really?’
While I’m standing here breathing in the floral scent that’s you, yes, really. When I see that uncertainty flick through your eyes, yes, I want to spend time with you. When I think about actually scratching my itch, definitely, yes, but if I remember why I have to move on from you, then a resounding no.
The elevator shook to a halt and the doors glided open. He took her elbow again. ‘The idea of going to Fiji, it’s growing on me.’ His parent’s fortieth wedding anniversary was in the first week of July and they were having a party to beat all parties at one of Auckland’s top restaurants. Of course he wanted to celebrate with them. Of course he was not invited. ‘Yep, getting away has appeal.’ He tried to ignore the surprised look on her face and opened the door to his penthouse. ‘After you.’
Olivia slipped past him, and walked through to the lounge with its floor-to-ceiling glass wall that allowed an extensive view of Auckland Harbour, the bridge, and closer in the wharves with a collection of large and small sea craft tied up.
He followed, stood next to her, stared out seeing nothing. Why did Olivia unsettle him when no other woman ever had?
‘I’ve never been to the islands,’ she said, without looking his way. ‘Haven’t been anywhere since I was ten, and then it was to Australia with my parents. Mum hates flying.’
‘Makes for an uncomfortable trip, I imagine. You haven’t inherited that fear?’
Her head moved slowly from side to side. ‘Not at all. In fact, I’d like to learn to fly one day.’
‘What’s holding you back?’ It wouldn’t be lack of brains or money.
‘I have a feeling it would become a passion and what with work and doing up my house there isn’t enough spare time to spend hours in the air.’ Her reflection in the window showed she was nibbling her lip again.
He didn’t like it when she did that. It indicated distress, and he didn’t want her to feel distressed. ‘Ever thought of cutting back a few hours so you can do some of the things you like?’
Olivia finally looked at him. ‘I spent so much time training and working my way to the top that I think I’ve forgotten there’s a whole world out there waiting to be explored, whether through travel or doing things like learning to fly.’
‘You’re right.’ Apart from going sailing whenever he could get a weekend away, he spent most of his time working. ‘You said you’re enjoying doing up your house. I bought this apartment because the idea of renovations and painting and all the things required to turn a house into a home seemed too huge. It’s not a job for one weekend, is it?’
‘No, it’s a project. But, then, most things I’ve ever done have been projects.’ She frowned. ‘That’s how I stay in control. Take the house. Next month is bathroom month. The builder’s going to gut it and then everything I’ve chosen goes in and I get to go shopping for all the little bits and pieces, matching the towels with the tile colour, the fittings with the rest of the house.’
Sounded too organised for him. He liked a little disorder, certainly didn’t have perfectly matched towels or even dinner sets. Not that he’d gone to the second-hand shop for anything, but he hadn’t been hell-bent on getting everything looking like a show home. ‘What was last month?’
‘My bedroom.’ She turned away, and her voice was low as she told him, ‘It’s cream and rose pink. Very girlie, but I wasn’t allowed that when I was growing up so I’m having it now.’
Wow, she’d just mentioned her childhood twice in a short amount of time. Very briefly, sure, but there it was. She hadn’t been allowed to pick the colours for her room. Not a big deal maybe, but it could mean there was nothing she’d been allowed to choose. ‘I’ve never seen you wear pink.’
‘Rose pink.’ Her smile was unexpectedly shy. ‘There’s a difference. And, no, I can’t imagine what patients would think if their surgeon turned up dressed in pink.’
‘They’d probably love it.’ Taking a step back before he walked into that smile filling him with a longing for something special, he brought everything back to reality. ‘Tea or champagne?’
‘Have you got camomile?’ Her smile had widened into that of a cheeky girl.
He told her, ‘Yes, I have,’ and laughed at her surprise. ‘My mother drinks it.’ On the rare times she’s visited.
‘For some reason I didn’t think you were close.’ She followed him to the kitchen, where she perched on a bar stool at the counter. Crossing her legs showed off a length of thigh where that golden creation that was supposedly a dress rode high.
‘We’re not.’ Mum at least tried to accept he was still her son, while Dad… Forget it.
‘You mentioned one brother.’ Was that longing in her voice? Hard to tell from her face.
‘Mark. He’s married with two kids. I only get to see them at Christmas and birthdays.’
Olivia picked at an invisible spot on the counter. ‘That’s incredibly sad.’
‘Yep.’ He made himself busy getting mugs from the cupboard and teabags from the pantry.
She lifted her head and locked her blue eyes on him, suddenly back to being in control. ‘Think I’ll head back to the hotel. I don’t really want tea. Or anything.’ She slipped off the stool and turned towards the doorway. ‘Good night, Zac.’
With little thought he reached for her, caught her wrist and gently tugged her close. With a finger under her chin he tilted her head back so he could gaze down into her eyes. And felt his head spinning with wanting her.
Olivia’s eyes widened and
her chin rose further as her mouth opened slightly.
Zac was lost. Any resistance or logical thinking disappeared as he leaned closer to place his mouth over hers. As he tasted her, the heat and need he’d kept tamped down most of the night exploded into a rainbow of hot colours. Olivia. She was in his arms, her mouth on his, her tongue dancing with his. Olivia.
Slim arms wound around his neck, pulling his body closer to hers. He felt her rise onto tiptoe, knew the moment when her hips pressed against his obvious desire. Those breasts he’d been fantasising about all night flattened against his chest, turning him into a molten pool of need. His hands spread around her waist to lift her onto the stool, where she immediately wrapped her legs around his thighs.
This is what I’ve missed so damned much. We are fire on fire. Feeding each other. Consuming the oxygen.
She tasted wonderful, bringing more erotic memories back to him. Making new ones.
Lifting his mouth, he began trailing kisses over her jaw, down her neckline, on towards her deep cleavage. When she whimpered he continued while lifting his gaze to her face, where he recognised the same fiery awakening racing along his veins.
Her fingers kneaded his scalp as she pushed her breasts higher to give him more access with his tongue. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Of course she wasn’t. That dress had clung to every curve and outlined her shape perfectly; including her breasts, those peaks now hard against his mouth and hand.
Zac growled as he licked her, tasted her skin, her nipple. A gentle bite had her arching her back and tipping her head so that her hair fell like a waterfall behind her. And he lost himself, tasting, touching, rubbing.