Hide Your Heart: A New Zealand Small Town Romance (Sexy New Zealand Beach Romance Far North Book 1) (16 page)

Lauren blinked. The other mums knew? They’d never said a word.

“Oh. Well, I guess it’s all over town by now.” Keeping gossip from spreading in Bounty Bay was akin to preventing the transmission of the common cold—virtually impossible.

Lizzie’s nose crinkled. “Well, of course. We are talking about Bounty Bay. No one can keep a secret. But it’s okay…” She rubbed a soothing hand down Lauren’s arm. “It’ll blow over when the next scandal sweeps through. So you used to be a model? Hell, years ago I used to be a dee-jay on the popular Coast-to-Coast-FM morning show, but do you think anyone gives a hoot about that now?”

“I didn’t know that.”

“You would—if you’d ever accept one of my invitations to come and hang out with me and the other mums at coffee group.”

Lauren shook her head. “I’m sorry, Lizzie. You all must think I’m such a snob.”

“We understood it must be hard.”

“I think I’ve made it harder.”

“Nobody’s judging you, hon—well, except Angelique—and that’s because she’s itching to get you into her salon to fix your horrendous cut and color. She’s convinced you hacked off your split ends with a chainsaw.”

Lauren laughed, bending to scoop up Drew as he wrapped his arms around her legs. “She’s not far wrong. Maybe I am due for a trim.”

“Hey.” Nate’s deep voice behind her sent a shiver down her spine.

She stood and made the introductions, bristling a little at the appreciative light in Lizzie’s eyes as she surreptitiously eyed Nate. The muscled length of him— complete with a rakish couple of days’ worth of scruff—was hard to ignore, even if you had a husband and twin boys.

Nate grinned down at Lauren, as if he somehow sensed the possessive vibe pumping off her skin. Ridiculous that she felt possessive at all.

“I’d better get going before the boys fall too much more in love with that tool belt,” Lizzie said. “Think about the summer carnival, Lauren. We’d love to see you manning the cake stall instead of just baking muffins for it. You’ll call me?”

“Sure.” Lauren smiled and waved at the twins as Lizzie pushed the shopping cart past.

A warm hand settled on her nape, and Nate’s lips skimmed over the shell of her ear. “You look like a woman in need of some ice cream to cool down.”

“Ice cream,” whooped Drew. “I need ice cream, too!”

Lauren walked with him to the checkout, his big, warm palm on the small of her back. Ice cream wouldn’t cool the heat setting her on fire every time Nate was close by.

***

Lauren was a sucker for punishment as much as Nate was a sucker for her muffins.

Most days around afternoon break time, she found herself, with Drew in tow, hiking up to Nate’s place with a container of home-baked goodies. Every time she spotted Nate, paint-splotched and sexy, a niggling little voice said Drew had gotten too attached—that
she
had gotten too attached. Each time she told the niggling little voice to “shut it” and went to boil the kettle.

Today, she’d made butterscotch brownies—Nate’s favorite—because today, she’d heard Bounty Bay’s power providers were interested in founding a sustainable-wind farm in the area. Mac’s place looked pretty darn good, but even with Kathy’s contacts, no one within the community had shown any interest in buying it.

Lauren had gone so far as to speak to Kathy’s cousin Samuel, thinking the old, neglected barn a short distance from the main house could be a potential workshop for his art. The man’s carvings were a hit with the Asian market, and although Samuel didn’t broadcast his financial success, she knew he could afford the place. A brilliant idea—only Kathy’s gorgeous but stubborn younger cousin wasn’t interested in moving.

Dammit.

Lauren waved out to Todd working on the scaffolding as they approached, and Drew shrieked like a maniac as he spotted his uncle.

“Uncle Todd! Uncle Todd! I wanna come up!”

Todd climbed down the ladder and plucked his nephew up by the straps of his overalls. He swung him in a dizzying, giggling circle before setting him back on his sneakered feet. “Not a chance, squirt. Your mum’d kill me.”

“Aw, man! You and Nate let me come up the other day.”

Todd winked at her and grinned. “Shh, you little blabbermouth. That’s a man secret. You don’t tell women man secrets.”

Lauren grinned at her brother, who had already told her about Drew’s adventures on the scaffolding when it’d been set up two feet off the ground. “Hmm. I’d better go and talk to the boss.”

She passed the container of brownies to Drew. “Sweetie, can you and Uncle Todd put the kettle on while I talk to Nate?”

“He’s around back.” Todd tipped his head toward the house. “Say, how come she gives you the baking to carry, squirt?”

“Because I won’t let you eat them all. Mummy says you can’t be trusted and she says I’m more ‘sponsible.” Drew wrapped his arms around the container.

“‘Sponsible…Right.” Todd shot her a hard-done-by big brother look. “As if I’d eat all the brownies—they are brownies, aren’t they?”

“Go wash up while I find Nate,” Lauren threw over her shoulder as she headed for the rear of the house.

Brand new windows and roof, and now the first coat of paint almost completed on the new clapboard siding. Bounty Bay workmen had come up to finish the electrical and plumbing work. More were due in a couple of days to start on the new kitchen and bathroom, and to install the beautiful rat-poop-free carpet she’d helped Nate pick out. Mac’s place would soon be a jewel again.

Lauren couldn’t help a wistful smile as she rounded the corner. Old Mac would’ve loved seeing his place restored, though volunteers would’ve had to hog-tie him before he’d allow anyone to touch it.

Still grinning, Lauren smacked into a solid but not made-of-clapboard wall. The wall’s hands shot out to steady her, and she yelped while being dragged flush against a hard chest and stomach.

“Good, you’re here.” Nate’s hands ran over her waist and clamped on her bottom. “I thought you weren’t coming.” He dipped his head and nibbled on her jaw.

She squirmed closer, threading her fingers behind his neck and holding on tight. “Please tell me you’ve cleaned your hands, and that I won’t have to explain to Drew and my brother why I have two Driftwood-colored handprints on my backside.”

His laugh a smoky rumble, Nate kneaded his two handfuls until she nearly purred.

“Lucky for you, I’ve already washed up.”

Before he distracted her any further, Lauren said, “I spoke to a representative from
NorthEnergy
this morning.”

“Mmm.” Hot lips pressed against the pulse point at the base of her throat. “You smell so good. Like sugar.”

“About wind turbines—”

His lips left her skin. “Turbines?”

“For a wind farm.
NorthEnergy
would be interested in evaluating the land up here as potential sites for their wind turbines.”

“When you say ‘the land up here’, you’re meaning my land?” Some of the warmth drained out of his voice.

“Well, yes. But they said if the sites met their needs after testing, they’ll pay ten thousand dollars per turbine per year. That’s an amazing investment.”

“And I wouldn’t have to sell the property to Martin Davis.”

Busted
. “There is that.”

“How many turbines are they talking about?”

This was the cruncher. “One to start with, if the test turbine shows it can produce the power they require—but potentially up to three.”

Nate released her bottom and straightened, causing her hands to slip from around his neck. “I’m sorry, Laur. It’s not the kind of return I’m looking for. Even best case scenario, thirty thousand a year isn’t going to work for me.”

“So it’s all about money.” Her cheeks sucked in on a frown.

“As far as Mac’s place goes, yes.” His tone blunt, he raised an eyebrow. “I’ve invested pretty much all I own here, and I’m counting on the profit to fund my next overseas trip.”

“For another coffee-table book.”

“Exactly. After the sale, I’ll be in a position to quit the twenty-four-seven life of a photojournalist.”

“I thought you loved that life.” A tiny flame of hope flared in the back of her mind.

“What I love is living through the lens of my camera. And selling Mac’s place for top dollar will allow me to do that full-time on my own terms.”

“I’m still trying to find you another buyer.”

With a crooked smile, he tugged her back into his arms. “I know, babe. And I’m keeping an open mind. But no wind farm.”

“Fine—”

Nate pressed his lips to hers, and the flash of heat sweeping through her melted the last vestiges of indignation.

Giggles and a loud throat clearing doused the equivalent of ice water on them, and they sprang apart. Todd and Drew stood at the corner of the house, her son’s mouth wide open, her brother with folded arms and a
you’ve got to be kidding me
scowl.

“Mummy was kissing Nate. That’s so funny.” Drew hurtled over. His eyes sparkled as he tugged on Nate’s coveralls. “Now you have to get married. It’s the rules.”

Nate grunted like he had when Drew accidentally kneed him in the groin as they mock wrestled on the family room floor a couple of evenings ago.

“It doesn’t quite work that way, sweetie.” Lauren’s cheeks stung hot, and she couldn’t meet Nate’s gaze.

What on earth must Nate think of Drew’s marriage comment? What on earth was
she
thinking—since warmth at the idea of having Nate around on a more permanent basis lit up her insides like a cranked-up furnace?

Resisting the temptation to touch her kiss-wet lips, she snatched up Drew’s hand. “Let’s make the tea before Java or your uncle sniffs out those brownies.”

***

Nate had approximately an hour’s sleep the next morning after he’d slunk into the garage at 5:00 a.m., before a truck rattled to a stop outside. He cracked open an eye and glared at the workshop’s wooden cross beams. The engine died, and a car door creaked open, a guitar rift from some old ‘70s hit twanging through the silence.

Todd
.

Nate had expected a verbal ass-kicking from Lauren’s brother after the silent,
just gimme a reason
glances the big guy fired in his direction all yesterday afternoon.

Nate lurched off the futon and snatched up his jeans, the bang of a fist against the metal door making him wince.

“You in there, Fraser?”

Nate rolled his eyes. On his property, Todd referred to him good-humoredly as
boss
; but now, in Lauren’s workshop, he’d been relegated to a surname.

“Yeah, give me a second to get my pants on.”

A grunt from the other side of the door and a muttered but still audible, “If you’d kept your bloody pants on, I wouldn’t be here.”

Biting back a grin that might earn him a punch in the nose, Nate buttoned his jeans and strolled across the floor.

He yanked open the door and squinted at Todd and a black thing bunched in one of his giant fists.

“What’s up?”

“A good southwest swell. So we’re going surfing. Boards are already in the back.”

The big black thing smacked him in the chest and then flopped to the ground.

“This spare wetsuit should fit. Get a move on.”

Nate opened his mouth to protest, caught the challenge and faint glimmer of humor in Todd’s eyes and decided to can the excuses.

“Five minutes. And remember, if I drown, you don’t get paid.”

Todd snorted as Nate picked up the wetsuit and shut the door in his face.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Forty minutes later, broken by little conversation other than brief discussions on the brilliant offshore wind and ideal conditions, Nate and Todd waded into the surf and paddled out past the whitewater.

“Like riding a bike, right?” Nate said as Todd slanted him an evil grin. “Ten years is starting to feel like fifty.”

“Man up and show me what you’re made of, Fraser.”

Great—a macho test to see if he was worthy of Todd’s sister. How that worked, Nate wasn’t sure. The swell moved beneath him, the salt water dripping off his hair stinging his eyes. Suicidal to accept Todd’s unspoken challenge, but Nate had never turned down a challenge yet.

With a whoop, Todd caught a wave, carving away toward the distant beach with an easy grace that belied the man’s size. The pro pitted against the
quimby
—the annoying novice surfer.

Nate glanced over his shoulder at the next wave building. He hauled himself forward on his board, turned the nose toward shore and paddled his ass off. What the hell,
quimby
or not, the morning was too damn fine to waste by complaining.

“You’re not bad, for a city slicker,” Todd told Nate two hours and countless wipeouts later.

Nate limped away from the tiny waves hissing ashore, placed his borrowed board on the sand then stretched out next to it with an unmanly moan of relief.