Hide Your Heart: A New Zealand Small Town Romance (Sexy New Zealand Beach Romance Far North Book 1) (7 page)

BOOK: Hide Your Heart: A New Zealand Small Town Romance (Sexy New Zealand Beach Romance Far North Book 1)
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“Five countries from the time we left New Zealand when I was four, until I reached eighteen. Then my mum voted med school and my dad, architecture.”

“And what was your vote?”

He blew on his mug of instant noodles, laughter lines bracketing his eyes. “To bum around the world taking photos. Dad always regretted giving me a camera on my tenth birthday. I thought I was a real hotshot newshawk after that.”

“But you got your own way and went into journalism?”

“Yeah. I don’t have what it takes to stay in one place for years, hitting the books and getting degree after degree. One was enough for me. I had a friend, Steve—”

The hairs at the back of her neck prickled at the way he said his friend’s name.

“He taught me everything I know about photography, very little of which you’d find in a book. Steve never outgrew the need to keep moving. I guess it explains why we got on well.”

“You
had
a friend? You aren’t friends anymore?”

A muscle twitched in his jaw as he blew on the rising steam again. “He died. Cancer.”

Her fingers pressed oval dents into the soft bread, but if she kept a grip on her sandwich, she wouldn’t embarrass them both by touching his hand. “I’m sorry; it’s harsh losing a friend that way.”

“Was over a year ago now.” He shrugged and stared into the distance, as if grief came with a time limit that couldn’t be exceeded.

They sat in silence, watching a black and white tui search for nectar in an overgrown flax bush. She fidgeted, rubbing a damp palm along her thigh. Somehow, this conversation had gone in a different direction than she’d intended.

Back to the program. “So, you’ve no plans to settle down? Maybe start a family?”

Nate leaned back in his deck chair, stretched out his legs, and folded his arms. She wanted to squirm because the slight curve of his lips indicated he knew exactly what she hinted at.

“I don’t know how to do the stay-at-home family thing, and I’ve no desire to learn.” He angled his chin toward the house. “I’m not keeping the place, if that’s what you’re suggesting. I don’t want it. Aside from the investment issue, I’d be bored out of my mind within weeks.”

His words fired a twinge of irritation through her. And something else—something like disappointment. “But there are other options for the property you could look into.”

One dark eyebrow rose. “Such as?”

“Leasing it as an artist’s studio or a private home. Even the local electricity providers are looking for land to build wind turbines.” She hoped her voice didn’t betray the pulse throbbing beside her vocal chords.

“Hadn’t thought of that. But who in their right mind would want to live up here full time? No offense.” He shot her a fast grin.

“You underestimate the area’s charms. Bounty Bay attracts artists like moths to flame. You should think about it.”
Don’t push any harder,
she instructed herself.
Keep it nice and friendly-like and leave him some thinking space.
Men balked at being rushed into things. Provide some alternatives and they’d turn them around in their heads until they thought the idea was theirs in the first place. “The city’s more to your taste then?”

He shook his head. “Anywhere but stagnating in the same spot is more to my taste.” He leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees and immobilized her with a curious gaze. “And you? Do you prefer the silence here to the big smoke?”

Lauren’s neck muscles bunched as she nodded. “Drew and I like being near family, and living out here is so peaceful—we love it.”

“Where did you live before?”

The tension crept down to her shoulder blades, but she deliberately sank back into the deck chair and crossed her legs. A reasonable question and carelessly asked—it wouldn’t pay to overreact. “I grew up in Bounty Bay, but I lived in the States for a few years. My husband was a New Yorker, so I was based in Manhattan for a while.”

“New York?” He cocked his head. “A long way from home.”

“Yeah.” Her smile was as tense as her crocheted back muscles. “A stranger in a strange land. It didn’t work out. Guess I missed driving my cars instead of using the subway.” Or being driven around by her husband’s chauffer. Prudent to keep that observation to herself.

His voice dropped to a confidential level, his brows tugging together. “But that’s not why you left.”

“No, and the reasons why are personal.”

He swallowed the last of his lunch. “Meaning I should back off and stop prying?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Not with a man who was as dangerous to her peace of mind as Nate was.

“Fair enough. I’ve things in my past I choose not to dwell on either.” He stood and rinsed his mug.

Todd ducked under the tent’s awning with a plastic container under his arm and a muffin clenched in his fist. “If either of you tell Kathy how many muffins I’ve eaten, heads will roll.”

Nate placed his clean mug on the upturned crate. “Won’t be from me. I can keep a secret.” He shot her a pointed look and walked toward the house.

Lauren sipped her tea, while Todd polished off his muffin.

“What’s this about secrets? Does he know who you were?” Todd brushed crumbs off his shirt.

“No. At least, he hasn’t said anything.”

“You gonna tell him?”

“I won’t take the risk and it’s none of his business.”

Todd huffed air out of his nose, then tightened his tool belt. “He’s a reporter; he’ll make it his business.”

“He specializes in war zones and riots. He won’t pay any attention to some scarred nobody in the back of beyond. Not with other things on his mind.”

Todd grunted. “I bet.” He tugged her to her feet and into a hug. “Sis, you’re not a nobody to me, and any man who only sees your scar instead a gorgeous babe with a big heart isn’t worth spit.”

“Thanks.”

“I got your back.” He patted her shoulder with a calloused palm.

This time.
Though the words remained unspoken, they wove through his solemn tone.

Lauren squeezed her brother tight. “It’ll be fine, and in a few weeks, he’ll be gone.”

And well before then she needed to figure out how to change his mind.

Chapter 4

Lauren approached the lion’s den with only a chunk of steak between her and certain death. Except in this case, Nate represented the lion, and the steak, a plate of her beef chili. Still, her heart knocked and her palms slid greasily around the steering wheel as she drove toward Mac’s place.

She hadn’t chain-sawed any more for him when a storm blew in two days ago, but after another rainy afternoon cooped up inside, her son frothed at the mouth for action. When she’d suggested they ring Uncle Todd to drop a hot meal off to Nate, Drew looked at her as if she was nuts.

“Why can’t we take him dinner?”

Good point. It wasn’t as though they’d be eating with him, but she still tried to change her son’s mind. “Because it’s pouring.”

“I’ve got gumboots, Mummy.” Exasperation in spades.

So here they were, pulling into Mac’s driveway with rain pummeling the car roof. Déjà vu to the max, but that didn’t explain Lauren’s racing heart and sweaty palms. She parked beside his Range Rover. Seemed safe enough to enjoy the little fizz of attraction that’d sprung to life. She savored the sizzle when their eyes met or as he said her name in his low, sexy voice, because nothing could come of her attraction to him.

“Can I carry the plate?”

She unclipped Drew’s safety belt. “Yes. But remember you promised to be a good boy and have a bath when we get home.”

His nose wrinkled. “Oh, all right.”

The rain splattered on their raincoats in relentless bullets as they hurried to the tent, Drew clutching the foil-covered plate to his chest. A soft glow illuminated the plastic windows, but Nate didn’t come out to greet them.

“Nate?” she called.

“In here.” Movement from inside.

She unzipped the tent flap and shepherded Drew through. The conditions weren’t much better than the outside. Rivulets of water trickled across the floor and the air smelled dank with wet oilskin. Nate hunched on a deck chair in the corner, his sleeping bag tucked around him.

Drew’s gumboots splashed tiny sprays as he walked. “We brought you dinner.”

Nate reached out for the plate, a slight tremor in his hands. A seismic impact shifted in her heart. She wanted him to give up and return to the city a.s.a.p., but for goodness sake, the man was miserable.

“Get your stuff together, and come back with us. You can’t stay here in these conditions.”

Cool, heavy-lidded eyes met hers. “I’m fine.”

“Tough guy, are you?”

“I’ve been in worse places.”

“I don’t doubt it. But if you get over your tough-guy ego, there’s a hot shower, hot food, and a dry futon in my workshop you can sleep on tonight.”

“You can play snakes ‘n’ ladders with me,” said Drew.

Hesitation as their gazes clashed again, then a glimmer of a smile emerged. “Food, warmth, and a game of snakes and ladders with my little mate?”

Drew beamed at him.

“Guess I’d be crazy to turn down an offer like that.”

Yes. And she’d been crazy enough to suggest it.

 

***

 

After a shower, a double serve of chili, and a solid beating by a ruthless four-year-old board game shark, Nate considered himself human again.

He unrolled his sleeping bag on the futon couch and looked around the fluorescent-lit workshop with a sigh. His new accommodations were dry, un-cramped, and came with the luxury of indoor plumbing instead of the great outdoors. As an enthusiastic twenty-three-year-old who’d camped in central New Zealand’s icy temperatures to cover an annual motorbike rally, he’d had no problem sleeping rough. But eight years later? He was too old for that kind of shit.

He flicked off the workshop lights, crawled into bed, and adjusted the laundry-scented pillow Lauren had thrust at him. He should’ve felt a sense of satisfaction, now that he had a warm place to sleep. Why, then, did he feel as if he wanted something more?

Nate woke with a start.
Three o’clock in the morning
, the glowing digits of his watch informed him. He stumbled from the couch to the bathroom at the end of the workshop. God, he felt drugged. He hadn’t slept so well in a week. Yawning, he glanced out the tiny window as he washed his hands.

Lauren’s lights were on.

Indecision glued his bare feet to the concrete. What if she was sick and too proud to call him for help? What if nightmares had woken Drew? What if he just admitted he needed to see her again, even though he’d only said goodnight six hours ago?

Leave them alone. Leave
her
alone
.

He snarled at his reflection in the bathroom mirror then stalked back into the workshop, promptly stubbing his toe on the futon’s corner. Swearing, he fumbled for his flashlight and switched it on to illuminate a crimson splatter-trail on her rug.
Perfect
. His big toenail had partially lifted from its bed, and blood trickled out. Nate tugged on jeans and a shirt and headed out of the workshop.

Java rose above him at the top of the deck stairs—a devil-black shape amongst charcoal shadows.

Nate climbed the steps. “Don’t even think about it, mutt. I’m mad enough to bite you first.”

The dog sneezed, shook himself until his collar rattled then sauntered to his bed by the back door.

Nate limped after him and tapped against the wood. “Lauren?”

Footsteps shuffled on the other side and the door swung open.

Oh. Dear God.
He’d made a huge tactical error.

Dressed in plaid boxers that left her smooth thighs bare, and an ancient white tee, thin enough to outline the jut of her nipples, Lauren stared at him with smoky eyes and rumpled hair.

Desire, scalding and liquid, flushed through him.

Nate stepped backward, his jeans suddenly a size too small. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I’ll just—”

“Is that blood?” She pointed at his foot.

“More than likely, but it’ll—”

“Come in and sit down. I’ll get the first aid kit.”

He retreated farther from the light. Maybe she wouldn’t notice the ridge in his jeans growing bigger as her breasts brushed against the soft fabric. “Really, I’m fi—”

She sent him a saccharine-sweet look with her eyebrow arched prettily. “I’m happy to drive you to the hospital, if you’d prefer?”

“Touché.” He hobbled inside, trying not to get blood on her carpet as he slumped onto the nearest couch.

Lauren returned from the kitchen and tossed him a roll of paper towels. “Tear off a section while I grab the kit.”

She disappeared through the archway and he couldn’t resist tracking the sensual swing of her hips under those miniscule shorts. Swallowing a groan, he threw his head back against the couch. How could his toe still be bleeding when every gallon of blood had headed straight for his groin?

Lauren came back a few minutes later, the first aid box tucked under one arm and a thick toweling robe wrapped tight around her. Just as well…Another glimpse of her lush curves would fry his remaining brain cells.

“Did you cut yourself?” She hesitated beside the couch, looking as if she was about to treat the injury herself.

Please no, or he’d embarrass himself by doing something dumb…like hauling her into his lap.

“Stubbed my toe and now the nail has lifted.”

“Ouch.” She opened the container and tossed him a box of heavy-duty adhesive bandages. “Here you go.” Then she escaped behind the kitchen counter, out of his sight.

He tore the protective cover off a bandage. “I saw your light on when I was in the bathroom.”

Behind him came the sound of a running tap. “I was having a cup of tea.”

“Couldn’t sleep? Or are you up extra early to bake more muffins?”

She released a small hum of amusement. “Is that a hint?”

He chuckled, though becoming addicted to Lauren’s cooking wasn’t wise. Now that she’d halfway finished clearing the road to his house, he wouldn’t get to sample many more batches of her home baking.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said.

Nate stood and limped to the kitchen. He rested a hip against the counter. “Insomnia?”

“Yeah, but it’s not fatal.” She tried to play it down with a roll of her eyes.

“Just soul destroying after a while.”

She finished rinsing her mug and dried it with brisk, efficient movements. “I’m used to it.”

He stepped closer, the sweet, female smell of shampoo and flowers addling his brain. “How long has it been a problem?”

“A number of years, on and off.” She set the mug on the counter, where it rattled a short tattoo until she pried her fingers from the handle. “It gets worse when I’m stressed.”

“Do I cause you stress?”

Her teeth nipped the curve of her lip. “Yes.”

Before he could counter the urge, his knuckles skimmed along her scar, a five centimeter, raised crescent that must’ve hurt like hell when the injury occurred. She stared at him wide-eyed and jerked back, causing his fingers to trail a lingering caress down the line of her jaw before they fell away.

“Stop touching me. Please.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Lauren tilted her chin even as the walls slammed down in her eyes. Her nostrils flared as her breathing accelerated.

“Did your ex do that?”

She flinched but refused to drop her gaze. “No one did that. I was in a car accident.”

“That’s what you tell everyone, huh?”

“It’s what happened.” She half turned away, wiping her fingers on a dishtowel.

Her blush said otherwise. Car accident, his ass. Her ex-husband was responsible, guaranteed. He fought to keep his voice gentle, to dampen down the simmering emotions beneath. “I spent my teenage years in some pretty rough places. That doesn’t look like a car accident scar to me.”

She wiped the counter top, keeping her eyes on the sweep of the sponge. A shudder rippled across her shoulders, but she continued to clean, scrubbing at the already spotless sink.

“I get it.” The silence stretched as the wall clock ticked off seconds. “Another time in your life you don’t want to talk about.”

“Yes.” She turned back to him then. “My past is not open for discussion. I’ve moved on.”

“Ignoring it won’t make it go away.”

“Nothing will make my past go away. Like my scar, it’s something I’ve learned to live with.”

No bitterness soured her words, just a weary acceptance.

“Your scars don’t define you.”

“Scars?” She sent him a shuttered glance. “I only have one scar.”

“You have more inside. Ones you won’t let anyone see because you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared of you.” Her lip trembled once then stilled.

“Good. You shouldn’t be scared of any man.” He retreated from her kitchen and paused at her back door. “Sweet dreams, Lauren.”

He stepped into the misty, early morning air and closed the door quietly behind him.

 

***

 

Lauren stepped through the archway after a quick shower to find Nate at her kitchen table, eating a bowl of cereal.

“I have a proposition for you,” he said.

She paused, hairbrush caught halfway down her damp hair. “Please. Make yourself at home.”

“Mummy, Nate eats six wheat biscuits for breakfast.” Drew, his tone awed, still clutched the cereal box as he perched on the couch, staring bug-eyed at Nate. “He says when I get big like him, I’ll be able to eat six too.”

“Maybe you’ll even eat twice as many.” She ruffled his hair and took the box from his hands. “Now, go brush your teeth, and then I’ll help you get dressed, okay?”

Drew glanced at Nate, then scowled. “I can get dressed by myself. I’m not a baby.”

“No, I guess you’re not. Off you go.”

Drew charged from the room. She swiveled and shouted after him, “Don’t forget to put on clean underwear.”

An outraged wail from the bathroom. “Muuuuuum!”

She turned back to Nate’s infectious grin, and her lips twitched.

“You sound like my mum.” He spooned cereal into his mouth, his eyes glinting, since he couldn’t smile and chew at the same time.

She crossed to the table and sat opposite him. “Your mother still reminds you to change your underwear?”

He swallowed and his grin reappeared. “Only when I remember to wear them.”

Lauren laughed. “So what’s this proposition you wanted to make?”

“Meals and board in your workshop for a couple of weeks until the inside of my house is habitable. Probably by early in the New Year.”

Her heart rate kicked up a notch remembering the touch of his hand the night before. Nate stay with them?
Such
a bad idea. “I don’t think so.”

“Sleeping rough with this crazy Far North weather sucks.”

“So go back to the city.” She nipped her lower lip. “I’m sorry, that was rude.”

BOOK: Hide Your Heart: A New Zealand Small Town Romance (Sexy New Zealand Beach Romance Far North Book 1)
5.35Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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