A Secret Between Friends: A New Zealand Sexy Beach Romance (Treats to Tempt You Book 6) (10 page)

“
Sans
clothes.” He chuckled and walked off to his room.

Her pulse picking up speed, she went into the front bedroom and closed the door. It was a beautiful room, painted in pale colors and with a deep red bedspread over crisp white sheets. She barely noticed anything else, too apprehensive to unpack or investigate cupboards and drawers like she would have done on other trips away.

Niall would be outside soon—men only took seconds to strip. She sat on the edge of the bed and surveyed herself in the mirror. Could she really go through with this? Or should she go and knock on his door now and say she was flinching first in this game of chicken?

What would have happened if they’d all gone together—her and Ciara, Beck, Jonah and the others? Would she have been less nervous? Was it the thought of being naked with Niall that was giving her butterflies, or just letting anyone see her scars?

Her hand crept down to her knee, and she massaged it absently. She’d agreed to come here in a strange attempt to honor her best friend, to carry out the dreams she wouldn’t be able to fulfil herself. But everything had become tarnished with the news that maybe they hadn’t been as close as she’d thought. Was Ciara somewhere laughing at her for doing this? Or was she just being melodramatic? Maybe Ciara hadn’t told her about the guys’ trip to the nudist village because she hadn’t thought it important. Perhaps she’d had a valid excuse for not telling her that Niall had broken up with Tamsin.

Either way, it didn’t matter. Ciara was gone, the sun was out, and the Pacific Ocean was waiting for her to jump into it.
Carpe diem,
she whispered, and nodded at herself in the mirror. Who knew what would happen with Niall when they returned to the lodge later on? Again, it didn’t matter. He was her friend, and she’d have to wait and see whether anything else would develop between them.

She pushed herself up and began to undress, laying her T-shirt, jeans, and underwear on the bed. Her hair was already in its customary bun, so she pulled on her cap. Without looking at herself in the mirror again, she limped to the door and opened it.

She saw him immediately, on the deck, looking out to sea. He was naked, facing away from her, standing with his hands behind his back, his face tipped up to the sun. She inhaled at the sight of all that bare skin, the majority of it tanned a deep brown, the muscles in his arms, shoulders, and back a sight to behold. He had a tight ass, and strong, well-muscled legs too. The guy was gorgeous, and she had him all to herself for the day.

Taking a deep breath, steadying herself on the cane, she walked to the open sliding door and stepped onto the deck.

The wooden deck squeaked, and Niall turned his head as Genie came out to stand behind him.

He concentrated on her face, chuckling at the sight of her pink cheeks. “Okay?”

She blew out a slow breath, not blinking, as if she was trying incredibly hard not to let her gaze drift down.

“You can’t not look,” he said, speaking from experience. “You’ll give yourself a headache staring up like that all day.”

Her lips curved. “All right. Why don’t we allow ourselves a moment’s ogle and get it out of the way?”

He laughed. “Sure.”

Turning to face her, warmth flowed through him as her gaze slipped down his body like a silk scarf. In return, he let his gaze drift down her, too much of a guy not to admire the swell of her breasts with plump, pink nipples, the curve of her waist, the flare of her hips, and the paler skin of her inner thighs that made him shift his gaze hastily as desire stirred like a hungry tiger inside him.

His smile faded. From her right hipbone all the way down the outside of her leg, red marks peppered the smooth skin, culminating in the long scar across her knee he’d investigated the other day. Some of the marks were larger and angrier than others—they’d all healed over, but it would be a while before they faded. They weren’t ugly, but they were plentiful. Now he was looking more carefully, he could see a large graze on her belly, more faint scars on her ribcage beneath her arm, and a variety of old bruises, faded to light yellows and greens.

Now he understood why she’d been apprehensive about going naked.

He lifted his gaze to hers. She swallowed and blinked away the moisture that had turned her blue eyes shiny, but she couldn’t hide the anxiety in them.

Sighing, he put his left arm around her and pulled her to his side. She rested her forehead against his shoulder, and he pressed his lips to her hair. He was careful to keep his midriff facing away, but at that moment it wouldn’t have mattered if it had been a full-frontal hug. This was an embrace from one human being to another. Pain arced through him at the thought of the terrible experience she’d been through.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

She didn’t reply, but he felt her nod.

“I can’t imagine what you went through,” he said. “You’re so brave, Gin. I have nothing but admiration for your courage and tenacity. It can’t have been easy for the two of you in the Army—I know there are more women than ever now in the Forces, but even so, it can’t have been easy.”

“There were tough times,” she whispered.

“Which makes what you’ve done even more admirable.”

She lifted her head then. Her eyes still glistened. “Thank you. That’s a lovely thing to say.”

“I mean it. I’d never hack a life in the Army. I can’t imagine how hard you’ve had to work, and to make lieutenant too. You’re fucking amazing.”

She gave a half-laugh, and to his surprise a tear rolled down her cheek, which she hurriedly wiped away. “Stop it. I’ll be bawling next.”

When they were younger, he would have teased her for her tears, calling her a big girl, which she would have hated. Now, her emotion at his compliment touched him, and he cupped her face and lifted it so she was looking into his eyes.

Lowering his head, he touched his lips to another tear that glistened on her cheek, tasting salt. Then he pressed his lips to hers. Just a quick kiss, no tongues, as he was quite conscious that his blasé comment to her about separating nakedness from sex wasn’t quite going to work in her case. Then he lifted his head and smiled.

“Come on.” He bent and picked up the cane she carried in her left hand, took it from her, and put it inside the house. Then he closed the door and locked it, slipping the key into the bag he’d left on the deck.

She stared at him. “What are you doing? I can’t walk without my cane, Niall.”

He shouldered the bag, then tucked her left hand in the crook of his right arm. “You can lean on me.” He went to walk, but she didn’t move.

“I can’t.” Her eyes were wide, scared.

He raised an eyebrow. “You told me your physio said you should be off it in six weeks.”

“Yes, but—”

“Come on.” He knew it was the fear of the pain as well as the pain itself that was causing her hesitation. Part of his sports degree had covered aspects of physio, and reasonable exercise of the muscle and joint would be the only thing that would get rid of the cane for good.

She hesitated, then came toward him. Holding tightly to his arm, she limped down the steps and onto the grass.

As they walked along the bank toward the beach, he was conscious of her clutching hold of his arm, her hand tight on his biceps. He’d never normally associate Genie Sharpe with the word fear, but he realized she was scared. He wasn’t sure why it surprised him—anyone who’d been through what she’d been through was bound to be apprehensive about recovery, as well as returning to the life that had caused the event. She’d hardly spoken about the Army at all since she’d come back. Usually, she was full of it, happy to relate tales and funny stories of life in the Forces, proud of what she’d achieved. Now, not so much. Was she worried about returning and picking up where she’d left off?

He pushed it to the back of his mind and stepped down from the grassy bank onto the beach, then held out his hands to support her as she joined him gingerly.

It was slightly surreal, being naked in the middle of the day, especially with Genie by his side. With the guys in Spain, it had started as a laugh with them all incredibly conscious of their nakedness, but that had soon morphed into an oddly relaxed time, and he’d meant what he’d said about being able to separate nudity from sex. There had been the occasional awkward moment when a beautiful girl walked by, but as he’d said to Genie, most people there had been families or couples, and there had been very few singles on the pull.

This was very different. Genie’s fingers closed around his, and he fought to concentrate on her hands and not stare past them at the lightly tanned skin of her breasts, waist, and thighs. The blemishes could not mask her athletic, toned body, the smoothness of her skin, the fact that she had a cracking figure, slim without being skinny, her breasts generous without being overlarge. Once again, desire stirred inside him, and he fought to ignore it and focus instead on the fact that her knee hurt and she needed help.

“We’re going to walk a little way, and then we’ll find a place to stretch out,” he said.

“Okay.” She made it onto the sand, and they began walking along the water’s edge. It was a small bay, the sand curving in a crescent shape, rimmed by a wide grassy bank with towering pohutukawa trees. In true New Zealand fashion, there were hardly any people on the beach. Several families were strewn across the sand, most of them with small children, the parents stretched out on towels enjoying the sun while the kids played with buckets and spades around the rock pools, oblivious to their nakedness. A few people were in the sea, while two older couples strolled along the shoreline.

Genie tensed up as one couple approached them, her fingers tightening on his arm, but the couple barely looked at them, just nodded and said hello, and she blew out a breath as they passed and continued on their way.

“See?” Niall said. “Nothing odd about it at all.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m sure I can hear Ciara laughing.”

“Maybe.” Privately, he thought if Ciara were watching them together, she wouldn’t be laughing, but he kept that to himself.

Genie looked out to sea, affording him a quick glimpse of her leg. Was it his imagination, or was she limping slightly less?

A smile touched her lips. “Edward told me you said Ciara probably wouldn’t have a harp because she was tone deaf.”

“She was. I can’t imagine anyone less suited to playing angelic music.”

A wave washed over their feet, cooler than the water they’d been splashing through, and Genie inhaled and laughed, apparently enjoying the sensation of the water on her legs. “Do you believe in an afterlife?”

“I don’t know. I don’t
not
believe. It’s a nice thought. What about you?”

“I don’t know either. I’d be sad to think I’m not going to see those I’ve lost again one day.” She wore sunglasses so he couldn’t see her eyes, but he thought he caught a hint of a hitch in her voice.

Of course, she’d lost both parents as well as Ciara—he forgot that sometimes. When they were younger, he’d rarely made allowances for that, and he still thought that had been the best thing for her. She’d never been molly-coddled or indulged because she’d lost her mother so young. Sinead and Garret had treated her exactly the same as they’d treated their own daughter, and it had made her tough, resilient, and independent, qualities she’d obviously relied upon in the Army.

Now, though, he wondered what an effect it had had on her. Not only had she lost her mother, but she’d been separated from her father and brothers. They’d visited often, but had she ever felt that they’d abandoned her?

He resolved to ask her about it at some point—not today, though. “How’s the leg feeling?”

“Okay, actually.” She slowed and stopped, bending to examine the knee. “Stiff, mainly, as if it hasn’t been used for years. I worry that it’s suddenly going to give way and I’m going to fall flat on my face without the cane, but there’s no sign of that happening.”

He gestured up the beach. They were halfway between two families, out of earshot of anyone, and an overhanging pohutukawa tree cast some shade on the sand. “Come on, let’s take a break.”

He led her over to the shade, dropped the bag to the ground, and retrieved two towels which he proceeded to spread out. He sat crossed legged and started unpacking the rest of the items from the bag while Genie made herself comfortable, lying on her side. She took off her hat and sunglasses, and propped her head on a hand.

She stared in surprise at the contents. “A picnic! I didn’t expect that.”

“A small one. I thought it might be nice.” He unpacked a tub of strawberries, some grapes, and a pack of cheese and biscuits. Then he took out two plastic beakers and a bottle of wine that was still cool, unscrewed the lid, and tipped some into the beakers.

She held hers up. “To Ciara,” she said. “And the bucket list.”

He hesitated. They were here to honor his sister—that was why he’d done this, wasn’t it? But deep down he knew it was just an excuse. He’d spent weeks alone mourning her and saying goodbye. For him, this wasn’t about looking back—it was about looking forward, and he didn’t want to think about Ciara now.

Genie lay on her right side so her left side was uppermost. The sunlight filtered through the pohutukawa leaves to cast dappled shadows across her flawless, smooth skin, the curve of her waist, the flare of her hips, the tight, toned muscles of her thighs… It was difficult not to look, and so he didn’t fight it, letting his gaze caress her, brushing down her body soft as the summer breeze that blew over them. She shivered, although whether from his perusal or the breeze, he wasn’t sure, but her soft pink nipples tightened, and an ache grew deep inside him.