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With difficulty he stepped back. He knew by her eyes and her elevated breathing that she too resented the loss of contact. That she was as eager—and willing—as he. He grabbed her hand. ‘Let’s get out of here.’
Kate heard a collective gasp somewhere behind her but she felt too weak, too unbalanced, to do anything but allow him to tug her along the hallway beyond the bar. They passed a waitress bearing a tray of tempting hors d’oeuvres, the spicy aroma wafting behind her.
She struggled to keep up with his long strides in her wedge-heeled sandals. Up a narrow flight of stairs. The knowledge of what she was about to do pumped through her veins. She’d never been so physically attracted to anyone on sight before and, yes, Sheri, you only lived once.
He stopped at the second door they came to, produced a key from his pocket. The instant he opened the door, he whirled her inside, plunging them into almost total darkness. She heard the lock click behind him. ‘Now where were we?’ he murmured.
Her eyes adjusted so that she could just make out the broad outline of his shoulders. ‘Right about here.’ She set her hands on his chest. Correction: Shakira set her hands on his chest because Kate Fielding would never do anything so audacious—rubbing her thumbs over the jersey and loving the hot, rock-solid masculine feel of him, leaning in to inhale his scent. She hadn’t been this up close to a man’s body in a long time.
Light from the street cast a faint silvery glow to the room as he reached for her veil. But it was still dark enough to maintain the integrity of her disguise as he unhooked the loop above her ear and pushed the fabric aside.
He was silent a moment as he traced the shape of her face, her nose, her eyebrows. Her lips. ‘You’re gorgeous,’ he said, and pulled her hard up against his body, trapping her hands. ‘Even in the dark, you’re one irresistible woman.’
The awe in the softly spoken words thrilled her, excited her. She could feel the hard ridge of masculine flesh against her belly, his heart pounding against her fingertips, her own heart thundering in her ears.
Strong hands gripped her upper arms as his mouth descended on hers. She heard a long low moan—hers?—then an answering rumble that vibrated against her palms. His lips were dry and firm and very, very skilled.
With no persuasion at all, her lips opened beneath his. His tongue invaded her mouth, plunging inside then withdrawing like a promise of anticipated delights. He tasted good. Coffee and peppermint and something richer, darker. Hotter. When he raised his head, she pulled it down again. She wasn’t nearly ready to let him go.
But he wasn’t going anywhere. His hands moved from her arms to her bare midriff, to her bra—and ended up with a palm-full of brass and tinkles. He inhaled a hiss of impatience and if she hadn’t been so breathless she might have laughed at the sheer incredulity of the whole situation.
Nothing was going to stop him. His fingers curled over the tops of her breasts and swept beneath, then down to find her nipples taut and strained against the fabric. He rolled them between his fingers, sending hot darts of need shooting through her body.
She moaned as an echoing tightness swept to her core and leaned forward to give him easier access, which he took with swift efficiency. Her breasts spilled out into his hands. She gazed down, stunned at the sight of his dark hands on her pale flesh.
She looked up at him, glimpsed the firestorm in his eyes before his lips again fused with hers and he was walking her backwards, their legs knocking and tangling until she hit the wall with a jolt. A hard masculine body bumped against hers.
‘Oh-h-h.’
The pressure eased a little and he lifted his head. ‘You okay?’
‘Yes-s-s.’ Was that hiss of desire hers?
She groaned deep in her throat—with relief, with impatience—as he pressed against her once more, grinding his hips with hers, the ridge of his arousal huge and hot and heavy against her belly.
His hands were at her waist, lifting her as if she weighed nothing, pinning her against the wall and holding her there. Her shoes slipped from her feet with a quiet ‘plop’ of surrender.
‘Wrap your legs around me.’
His hand swept aside the flimsy points of her skirt, the thin strip of fabric covering her centre, the heat and slight roughness of his fingers searing her moist flesh as he claimed her.
She heard the sharp rasp of his zip as he freed himself, the hard, slippery feel of masculinity against the apex of her thighs. He paused, his jaw tightly bunched, eyes fused with hers, his breath a hot rasp against her cheek. ‘You’re sure?’
She felt imprisoned, helpless, trapped.
She’d never felt more alive, more free, more ready to take that chance. ‘Yes.’
‘Wait— Protection…’ He reached into his pocket.
‘Ah…’ Her fumbling fingers located the tiny organza bag tucked into her waistband. ‘I happen to have…’ She pulled out the packet and held it aloft with a grin of triumph.
‘Ingenious,’ he murmured, regarding her intently as if wondering how many more she had stashed there before taking it from her and quickly sheathing himself.
The thought flickered through her mind to tell him she didn’t usually have a ready supply, but she figured a girl of the world like Shakira might. She didn’t need to explain herself to him—this was literally a one-night stand. Except that her feet weren’t touching the floor at all and her toes were curling up in anticipation.
He guided himself inside her. He was big—huge—and she felt tight, stretched, invaded, but she pushed down on him with a gasp of satisfaction.
He thrust up once, twice, with a power and intensity that left her breathless. She clung to his shoulders, her fingers digging into the soft fabric of his T-shirt, the little ornaments on her costume tinkling. Her beaded bra strap felt rough against her back as the rhythmic movements increased.
She was blind and deaf to everything but him. His eyes, the outline of his body in the dimness. The harshness of his breaths as he pushed inside her, the sound of flesh against flesh.
She came just as she felt him shudder his own climax deep inside her. Oh, good Lord.
He continued to hold her until their breathing slowed, then she unwound her legs and he lowered her until her feet touched the floor. Her legs were wobbly, her whole body lethargic and limp.
He palmed one still-exposed breast. ‘Where do you—?’ The buzz of his mobile jarred, cutting him off mid-sentence. ‘I have to take this call,’ he murmured reluctantly, pulling his phone from the deep recesses of his trouser pockets. He lifted it to his ear with one hand while he continued to stroke one breast back and forth with the other. ‘Yes?’
As she watched his eyes turned remote, the outline of his jaw turned to stone. ‘Where the hell is it, then?’ Abruptly he pulled his hand away, those remote eyes turning hot just for a second as they met hers. ‘Stay right here, I’ll be back.’ Then he crossed the room without a backward glance and opened the door to the bathroom. ‘Okay, contact Dark Vertigo.’ Pause. ‘Forget it, I’ll do it myself…’ The light came on and Kate blinked against the glare before he closed the door behind him.
In the space of a heartbeat everything changed. Sanity charged back with a vengeance. Leaning against the wall for support, she refastened her veil before he returned and decided to switch on the light, then slid down the cool surface to the floor inch by excruciating inch. She located her sandals and slipped them on. Listened to her pulse beating in her ears, felt its fury in her throat, her nipples, between her thighs.
What had just happened?
Casual was what had happened. And thinking about it now was just a tad late. What in heaven’s name had she done? With a man she’d met less than twenty minutes earlier?
She didn’t even know his name.
She closed her eyes. Self-preservation and common sense seemed to have deserted her along with the man. A man she’d never see again, she told herself. So blame Shakira, put it safely to one side to think about later.
Right this minute she had to get out. Go home. Now.
Moments later she slipped out to the concierge desk, collected her bag and made a swift exit into the crisp night air.
She texted Sheri-Lee, apologising that she’d had to leave—something unexpected had come up—as she hurried to her car. She’d never done anything so crazy, so irresponsible in her whole thirty years. The breeze chilled any residual heat from her body. She’d always been in an ongoing relationship with a man before they’d made love. A relationship based on mutual respect, honesty and friendship.
And yet one look from that guy had changed her into someone she didn’t know. A strange sensation wrapped around her and she rubbed the goose-bumps that sprang up on her arms. It was as if she’d given him not only her body but her soul.
CHAPTER TWO
DAMON swore silently when he discovered his bedroom empty and the most enchanting creature he’d ever made out with gone. Getting laid on his first night back hadn’t been his intention—he wasn’t normally a man for one-nighters but one look at her and his brain had taken a swift dive below his belt. He’d had to have her.
He could go back downstairs and see if she was still around, which he doubted. Besides, he never put women before business and he wasn’t going to start now. Presumably that was all she’d wanted or she’d have stuck around for an encore. Pity, but—he shrugged—it wasn’t as if anything could come of it.
He pulled a beer from the room’s bar fridge and popped the top. Walked to the window and looked down at the business he’d crossed the Pacific to deal with. The travel agency his uncle had left him with its less-than-stellar façade and outdated posters. He shook his head. It was precisely why he’d arrived earlier than scheduled—to get a look at the place ahead of time.
Instead, he’d looked straight into a pair of soulful dark eyes and been sucked right under…
Bonita. Her image bloomed in his mind, with her father’s Spanish eyes and her Egyptian mother’s beauty. Was it any wonder he’d been attracted to those same attributes tonight? He took a swig from the bottle but the liquid tasted acrid on his tongue. He’d watched the woman he’d loved die at twenty-four.
And he’d learned the only way to deal with loss was to cut those people close to him out of his heart. Slapping a decisive palm on the window sill, he set the beer down and headed to the bathroom for a long-overdue shower. To ease travel-cramped muscles and wash away the woman’s lingering scent. No regrets but no reminders. He was in Sydney to put things right for his uncle, the last act he could perform for what he could call family. Then he was gone.
Thanks to a doozy of a cold, which had hit in the early hours of Sunday morning, Kate was running late for work on Monday—not good when Bryce’s nephew was arriving from heaven knew where tomorrow to look over the business. And the traffic this morning was a nightmare.
While she could have been at the office ahead of time making sure the man had nothing to find fault with she’d wasted her entire Sunday sleeping. Or trying to. Even with her mobile switched off and the landline off the hook, the memory of another man had kept her from getting the shut-eye she needed.
Kate Fielding had had a one-night stand.
A hot and steamy and abbreviated one-night stand. The very idea sent shock waves rocketing through her body. She braked with a squeal of tyres for yet another red light she’d barely noticed. The driver behind leaned on his horn.
Hell. She wiped her nose, gripped the wheel harder. Adventure man wasn’t good for her health. Thinking about him wasn’t good for her health. What did it matter that he’d put whatever business he was involved in before her? That he was probably like Nick and took his opportunities where he could? She was never going to see him again. She’d enjoyed herself and that was where it ended. That was what casually single was all about, right?
If she could just convince her still-sensitised body of that.
By sheer will she forced the images from her mind. Time to concentrate on the more immediate problem. Tomorrow morning she was going to come face to face with a man she already disliked by reputation and she wasn’t going to give him any reason to find fault with her work.
Her boss’s sudden death three weeks ago at a young forty-three meant the travel agency faced an uncertain future. She’d worked seven long hard years for the manager’s position. Now she had to prove herself again, to some guy whom she’d never met, who more likely than not knew nothing about the travel industry. Certainly he knew nothing about Aussie Essential.
She pulled into her reserved parking space a little too quickly, noting the time on her dashboard as she switched off the ignition. Damn. She grabbed her bag, wiping her nose again as she hurried across the car park in the brisk autumn breeze. Only ten minutes late.
She was never late. Lateness was unprofessional and showed a complete disregard for other people. Her low-heeled shoes echoed impatiently on the concrete. Checking her appearance in the glass door as she entered, she tugged the hem of her navy jacket, adjusted her collar unnecessarily. Smoothed her long hair clasped in a knot at the back of her head out of habit.
‘Hi, Deb.’ She smiled at their newest team member sitting behind her desk. The only team member behind her desk, she noticed. ‘Where the heck is everyone?’
‘Hi, Kate…umm…’ Her eyes flicked to the large office they used as a staffroom behind them.
As Kate stowed her handbag beneath her desk a feeling of doom descended on her. ‘Don’t tell me. He’s here already.’
‘He said he tried contacting you…’
‘Oh, no…’ she groaned. ‘I slept through yesterday and I was running so late this morning I didn’t stop to check my messages.’ Kate’s blocked sinuses chose that moment to prickle. She barely caught the explosion with a tissue. Even the cold capsules she’d taken earlier hadn’t diffused the throbbing headache and her legs felt like lead. She mopped her nose. ‘He wasn’t due till tomorrow.’
‘I know.’ Deb shrugged. ‘He called everyone in for an early staff meeting. They’re all in there right now. I’m manning the desk—’
Kate tossed her tissue in the bin and grabbed another handful from her desk. ‘Excuse me? He called a staff meeting?’
He being the nephew Bryce only ever mentioned on a couple of occasions that Kate could recall. The globe-trotting adventurer, the man who’d not bothered to come to the funeral but was here now to seize his inheritance.
Deb nodded. ‘He seems to have everything under control.’
He had no right to have everything under control. Kate always managed Aussie Essential Travel in Bryce’s absence and he’d promised her full authority from next month. That was probably a moot point now. Still, she’d been managing just fine for the past three weeks. What would his nephew, who as far as she knew had never set foot inside this place, know about the travel business?
‘Are you okay, Kate?’
Kate shook her head, and winced. But she forced a smile. ‘I’m breathing…sort of…I’d better get in there.’
Calm down, she ordered herself. Be professional but assertive. Leave him in no doubt that you’re quite capable, thank you very much. She grabbed a notepad and pen from her desk.
Opening the door quietly, she stepped inside. The team was focused on the dark-suited man talking at the head of the table. His voice was deep and melodic. And authoritative.
She tensed, ready to defend her own authority.
His face was in profile, but he turned and stopped speaking as Kate entered and she was blasted by the full force of his gaze. Pinned in place by topaz eyes. His jaw might have tensed momentarily—or maybe not—she was too busy picking her own jaw off the floor.
Oh. No. Her Saturday night’s casual encounter was Bryce’s nephew? The man she detested by reputation? She felt a sudden tightness in her chest that had nothing to do with her cold. Surely it wasn’t possible.
Or Damon Gillespie just looked like that guy because he’d invaded her mind. The clean-shaven man in the suit that fitted his broad shoulders to perfection and looked as if it had cost a million bucks and the sombre silk tie couldn’t be that rugged jungle hero who’d kissed her senseless, made love to her against the wall… She felt that same heat rise up her neck now as the rest of her staff turned to look at her.
Hold it together. She took a deep steadying breath and nodded a silent greeting to them. Forget authority, forget assertive—all she wanted to do was slide into the nearest chair with as little fuss as possible and get herself under some sort of control.
On noodle legs, she moved towards the only available chair which, by some unfortunate coincidence, happened to be next to Damon Gillespie’s right hand. It was okay, she told herself; he wouldn’t recognise her.
To make it worse, he was waiting for her to sit before continuing with whatever it was he was saying, making her the centre of attention. ‘I’m interrupting, I’m sorry…’ she half whispered and immediately cursed herself for apologising to this man who represented everything she despised. He should be the one apologising.
‘Good morning, Miz…?’
She reached her destination and sank down, her notepad and pen sliding from her trembling fingers onto the table. His aftershave wafted beneath her nose. Expensive, spicy.
Familiar.
She clenched her hands together and dared to look straight into those eyes she was already too well acquainted with. She schooled her voice to chilly formality as she said, ‘Kate Fielding.’
‘Ah. Kate.’ He nodded, his eyes imprisoning hers for probably only a second or two but it felt agonisingly like minutes. ‘Damon Gillespie. You were incommunicado yesterday. An eventful Saturday night?’ His tone almost suggested he knew all about her Saturday night. Or was it just her perception?
Thank goodness he didn’t appear to expect an answer and moved right along in the same breath, informing them that he wanted to meet with each member of staff individually over the next couple of days. Kate noted the details on her pad, more for something to occupy her hands than anything else. But because her hands were shaking, she gave up and clenched them together on her lap.
Damon Gillespie tugged at his snowy white cuffs and spread his hands on the table. Large blunt, short-nailed fingers. Kate tried to look away but she couldn’t take her eyes off them. The memory taunted her. Those talented fingers exploring, finding all her pleasure points…
Her pulse throbbed slow and heavy and she bit down on her lower lip. Why was her body betraying her? It had no business feeling all molten and fluid in the middle of a staff meeting. Worse, it was responding to a man she didn’t want to like—didn’t like; loathed, in fact.
She jerked to attention at the mention of her name, knocking her pen to the floor with a resounding clatter in the silent room, and realised he was watching her expectantly, waiting for an answer. ‘Ah…I missed that.’
Damon knew she had. Good God, what were the odds of your one-night stand turning up at a staff meeting? She’d been a mess of nerves since she’d realised who he was and if he wasn’t mistaken the temperature in the room had dropped a few degrees.
Not the way she’d behaved the last time he’d seen her, he remembered. No, sir, she’d been more than willing and abundantly able. And hot. She couldn’t be sure he knew, however, because perhaps she thought she’d disguised herself adequately. She’d obviously not considered the tiny mole below the corner of her left eye. Or the fact that the veil was more transparent than she thought.
He retrieved the pen from the floor, noting the sexy ankles in her unflattering granny shoes as he did so, and set it on her pad. Her dark eyes collided with his as she mumbled a thank-you. ‘I asked if there’s anyone I need to thank personally for helping out with the funeral arrangements, flowers and donations and such. As you’d know now, Bryce and I had no other relatives.’
‘I was aware of that…’ Her gaze filled with what looked like pity and held his for a beat out of time. No need for tea and sympathy, he assured her silently with an equally resolute gaze.
Then her eyes cooled and skidded away as if she regretted the momentary lapse and she straightened, jotted something else on her notepad, her fingers wrapped so tightly around her pen he wondered that it didn’t break. Her voice took on that chilly note again as she said, ‘I have the details at home. And the book of attendees.’
There was an emphasis on that last word as if condemning him for not turning up to the funeral. He didn’t bother telling her the news of Bryce’s death hadn’t reached him until a few days ago. ‘Thanks, Kate. I’ll give you a call later.’ He sent a smile her way but she wasn’t giving him eye contact.
He turned, swept his gaze over the table as he smiled at each individual in turn and said, ‘Thank you, everyone. I think that’s it for now. As for Aussie Essential Travel, don’t worry. We’ll all muddle through this together.’
Hushed conversation ensued as staff members skirted the table. Kate pushed up too, but he laid a restraining hand over one of hers. ‘A moment of your time, Kate.’ He didn’t remove his hand right away, enjoying the feel of her smooth fingers beneath his, even if they were clenched like grim death.
She resented him being here. No, he decided, it was more than that.
