Summer Beach Reads. Natalie Anderson
black and sleek—like cobwebbing over her breasts and an equally clinging skirt. Her legs were lightly tanned and framed with a pair of barely there sandals on her feet—only a strip of black sequins across her toes and a heel that gave her a slight chance of levelly meeting his gaze.
He managed to haul a couple of words together. ‘We’d better go.’
There would have been a couple of hundred people there. The place glittered—diamonds adorned ears, necks, wrists and fingers everywhere. He glanced at Ellie’s beautiful skin; diamonds would look good on her. Or sapphires to match her eyes. Although no gem, no matter how precious, could sparkle the way her eyes were now.
She was laughing at how he’d just waylaid a waitress and hoovered too many of her canapés before she’d been able to offer them to anyone else. But honestly, he’d not eaten for ages. The two hours Ellie had had her lie-down, he’d been working.
‘You really don’t give a damn about what these people think of you, do you?’ Ellie teased.
‘Why should I? It doesn’t matter to me what anyone thinks.’
‘But what about your business?’
‘It speaks for itself. Each hotel or lodge is its own advertisement. I create them and then disappear into the background. It’s not about me. Never about me. People don’t go to a luxury retreat to hang out with the owner. They go for space, rest, privacy.’ He shrugged.
He watched her talk with one woman about the scenery. Snowboarding. Turned out Ellie had never been snowboarding herself, but she got that other woman talking about it for the best part of twenty minutes. She really was interested in what the other was saying. Asked intelligent, thoughtful questions. She was so good at listening and paying attention to other people. At seeming to care. Watching her in action, he realised it was the skill set she’d learned as a lonely kid. By giving others attention, she got attention. It made her included.
He watched her show all through dinner. For the most part he just enjoyed her enthusiasm—as did those at their table. But she was interested in being friends with him because she didn’t have to maintain that vivacious front the entire time with him. She could be ribald. She could be outrageous. She could be tired and grumpy. She could be selfish and take what she wanted. Hell, he wanted her to take what she wanted from him again. His body ached for her to.
Fortunately the band started up. While dancing was a very, very risky idea, it was also irresistible.
‘Friends kiss each other, don’t they?’ he asked idly as they barely moved, swaying in the small, heated dance space.
‘Oh, you’re bad.’ Glittering blue eyes sliced through him.
‘We’re also in a public place, so it’s not like we can go overboard. Just a little, friendly kiss.’
‘How friendly?’
‘Well, given our history, I’d say we’re very close friends.’
He stole a kiss and felt the fire both sharpen his need and melt his soul. This was what he wanted. Her giving in to him. Wanting him. Hot and sweet and soft. He pulled her closer, ached to have her lush body blanket his. Her warm lips welcomed. Oh, it was good. Blood fired—revitalised—around his body. He actually relaxed, the pressure in his head easing.
But she broke free. ‘That was almost overboard,’ she muttered, not looking at him.
He nodded but refused to let her out of his hold. Thank heavens for a crowded dance floor.
Ellie was almost out on her feet. No way could she handle more of this dancing and certainly not another ‘friendly’ kiss. She insisted on heading back to the bar where she stood alongside him and watched him attract people like the Pied Piper summoned every child in his town. He talked with men about farming, sport, politics, building developments. With the women it was more about the hotel business, the restaurants, the local events. Utterly sociable, he was the kind of person hosts loved at a party because he could carry conversation so well.
But it was all safe conversation. She noticed he never talked about himself—all topics were out in the public domain. While she made conversation by talking about the other person, he made conversation by talking about things or events or policies. He never broached the personal with any of them, but was utterly charming. And as the evening wore on it dawned on her that they were at a charity dinner for a hospice and he’d never once mentioned it in any of his conversations here. So that was too personal—she’d suspected so.
But his roguish smile and occasional outrageous joke had so many women giving him that look. And giving Ellie that look of envy.
She fell asleep on the drive home. Ruben pulled into the entranceway and quietly went round the car and opened her door. He scooped her up and carried her inside to the big sofa in the lounge. He didn’t want the night to end just yet—not with them going to separate bedrooms.
So much for phases two and three being so easy. No matter the weather problems, the fact was she’d turned the tables on him and somehow he’d agreed to it. Friends? It was crazy.
With a soft murmur she stirred, looked at him, all big, blue drowsy eyes. Her heart right there in them—longing. His own heart did a weird flip-flop thing. It wasn’t comfortable in the suddenly gaping cavern of his chest. Usually in this situation, when all the blood in his body had rushed south, he’d be on course for some highly satisfactory action. But today, despite the screaming tension from that most masculine part of himself, his brain wouldn’t shut down. Amazingly the clarity of his thoughts was more acute than ever. And all he could think was how lovely she was.
‘I’m really sleepy,’ she said, scratchy-voiced.
‘I’m not going to bed without you.’ He didn’t want to let her go.
‘You’re not going to bed with me.’
He smiled. A kiss and he’d have her mind changed. The glittering look she gave him beneath her lashes let him know she knew it too. But it had hit him hard—he didn’t want to lose her from his life. Not yet. And knowing what he did—of her need for attention, her habit of running from rejection, of her refusal to ever communicate with an ex...not to mention his own dismal track record in maintaining any length of a relationship...
Yeah, now he knew he had to do what she’d asked. Reluctantly. ‘Then I guess I’m not going to bed.’
He sat on the sofa, still holding her in his arms. She was soft and warm. He rested his head on hers.
‘I had a nice night,’ she murmured, settling closer.
So had he. And he was tired and too human to resist the temptation to kiss her again. Her sleepy, soft response deepened. She was deliciously lax in his arms, as if she’d let him do anything. Her breathy moan pretty much confirmed it. But they were friends and while friends kissed, that was all. And frankly? He’d never found kissing so rewarding. Long and luscious, kiss after kiss after way more than friendly kiss.
‘Ruben.’ She sighed.
He knew she was almost asleep, but she was also begging.
‘You could kiss me all kinds of places.’ A butterfly whisper.
Utter temptation. She had him so hard. And that was what she wanted, huh? To have her cake and eat it too. Or, more to the point, have him eat it. He smiled at his sleepy wanton woman and couldn’t help trailing a finger up her thigh.
Just once. Just once he wanted to see her shudder in ecstasy thanks to him. Yeah, he was that selfish. He’d dreamed of it for too long and, breathing in her fresh scent now, there was no resisting. He was touching only a little. Delving into the soft heat. She clenched on him. He rubbed a couple more times and she was there—right there in his arms—vulnerable, beautiful, and, in that moment, completely his. He watched for a moment, but some emotion deep inside drove him to kiss her, to catch the last of her sighs, to inhale her energy.
The ache tearing him apart inside wasn’t purely sexual. The craving ran