Hot Island Nights (10 page)

After the sun had gone down they showered again. He pulled on a pair of jeans and laid a fire in the brick barbecue on the back lawn. She rummaged in the fridge and managed to cobble together a salad while he cooked steaks over the coals. They sat on a picnic blanket to eat, then stretched out in the twilight afterward, their plates pushed to one side, each of them nursing a cold bottle of beer.

They talked about books and movies and travel as the heat of the day slowly faded, and when she mentioned her teaching he peppered her with questions and seemed genuinely interested in her replies. She was surprised by how well-read he was, how well thought out his opinions were. It dawned on her that he was much more than a beautiful face and a hard body. She’d known he was smart—he was too quick on his feet to be anything but. She simply hadn’t appreciated how sharp he was beneath the tan and the sand and the worn denim.

He asked why she’d chosen to teach in the public rather than the private system and listened as she told him about the special literacy course she’d run last year, and somehow the subject shifted to travel and she learned he’d surfed the coast of South America as well as Africa and spent nearly two months in Rome as a young man.

As the evening wore on she became more and more confused. On one hand, Nathan presented as a lazy layabout, a man who spent his days lolling in hammocks or riding waves. And yet he had clearly lived another life, a life outside of this small island and this very modest, slightly down-at-the-heel house.

Then there was the dark intensity he brought to the bedroom. This morning she’d scoffed at herself for reading things into the almost desperate way he held her and made love to her. Lying next to him under the stars, listening to him, she couldn’t help wondering all over again. Because there was definitely more to this man than met the eye. Definitely.

She turned her head to look at him, besieged by questions—none of which she felt remotely entitled to ask. He hadn’t asked her anything, after all. He hadn’t even asked about Martin, and when she’d mentioned her parents’ deaths during dinner he hadn’t even offered the usual “sorry” before changing the subject. He hadn’t volunteered anything about himself, either. In fact, she knew nothing about him except for his name and where he lived.

“You’ve got that look on your face again, Lizzy. I don’t like it,” Nathan said.

She’d thought he was stargazing, which was why she’d been studying him so blatantly. But apparently he had twenty-twenty peripheral vision.

“What look is that?” she asked, matching his casual tone.

“That thinking look. I’m right, aren’t I? You were thinking, weren’t you?”

“It’s rather difficult to stop, actually.”

“Now that’s where you’re wrong. You just need something to distract you.”

She watched as he put his beer down then rolled toward her and plucked her bottle from her hand.

“A distraction,” she said. “Any suggestions?”

Warmth pooled low in her belly as Nathan’s gaze slid over her body.

“Mmm. Let me see if I can think of anything,” he murmured.

He leaned over her, one long leg sliding over hers as his hand found her breast and his mouth found her lips. They kissed deeply as his fingers teased at her nipple through the fabric of her dress, pinching, flicking, rubbing. She shifted restlessly, already anticipating the weight of his body on hers, the push of him inside her.

His hand left her breast and smoothed down her ribs, then her belly. He stopped when he reached her mound, simply resting his palm over it for long torturous seconds. She felt the heat from his hand flow into her body and she lifted her hips in silent invitation. He smiled against her mouth and began to pleat the fabric of her dress between his fingers, slowly gathering it up. When he had the bulk of it bunched around her hips he broke their kiss and began to lick and suck his way down her body, laving her neck, suckling her breasts, pushing her skirt higher still and dipping his tongue into the tiny well of her belly button.

She started to tremble with anticipation as his mouth moved lower and lower. If he was going where she thought he was going, this was yet another area where she was woefully inexperienced. She’d thought about it—a lot—wondered what the heat of a mouth might feel like against the delicate, sensitive skin between her legs. But she’d never been bold enough to ask Martin to go down on her, and he’d never offered.

She gave a small gasp as Nathan’s tongue slipped under the elastic on the waistband of her panties. He looked up at her, a smile on his face. She knew he could feel her trembling. He knew exactly how excited she was.

“You like this, Lizzy? If I’d known, I would have come visiting sooner.”

“I don’t know,” she said before she could stop herself. “I’ve never done it before.”

His hand tensed on her hip. “You’re kidding.”

She stared at him, determined not to say another betraying word. He already had too much power over her, she wasn’t about to give him more.

He laid his cheek flat on her belly and hugged her hips to him. “Poor Lizzy. We’ll have to make up for lost time, then.”

He pressed a kiss to her mound through the silk of her underwear, then proceeded to torture her with his hands and fingers as he traced the edges of her panties, dropping kisses on her inner thighs, licking here, tasting there, but always avoiding the throbbing, hot place where she craved him the most.

She clenched and unclenched her hands, fighting the urge to simply lift her hips and thrust herself into his face. He was determined to tease her, and she was determined to withstand his teasing. If it killed her.

“How you doing up there?” he asked after a while, laughter in his voice.

“Just fine. You bastard,” she panted.

He laughed outright and hooked a finger into her waistband. She lifted her hips as he pulled her panties off, the muscles of her belly and thighs tensing as he pushed her legs wide and settled between them. Here again he took his sweet time, looking his fill in the light of the almost-full moon. She desperately wanted to cover herself with her hand but she knew that would only amuse him even more.

“You’re so pretty, Lizzy. I bet you taste good, too,” he said.

She held on to the blanket for grim life as he lowered his face toward her. She felt his breath against her skin, then she gave a low, deep moan as his tongue lapped against her sex for the first time.

He laughed against her most tender flesh and licked her again.

It was incredible. Indescribable. Hot and wet and soft and hard all at once. He settled in, sucking, teasing, using his hands, driving her crazy with each stroke of his tongue.

She moaned and lifted her hips and drove her fingers into his hair and trembled with her approaching climax. Then he slid a finger inside her and she fell apart, pulsing and crying out and bucking her hips.

It seemed to last forever, and when it was over, he pressed a kiss to her thigh and undid his jeans and slid inside her while she was still trembling with aftershocks. Incredibly, she felt the excitement begin to build again as he stroked into her, his big body tense above her. As if her pleasure had fed his, he came quickly, his fingers digging into her hips as he shuddered out his release.

It was only after he’d withdrawn and she was lying boneless and spent on the blanket staring up at the stars that she thought about the fact that they were in his backyard, in the open, where anyone could see them if they cared to look over the fence or walk down the driveway.

“Bloody Nora,” she said, flipping her skirt down and sitting up to look around in alarm.

Nathan took one look at her face and started laughing again.

“It’s not funny. Anyone could have seen us. My God. What if the neighbors have children? We could have scarred them for life!”

“They’re weekenders, Lizzy. They won’t be down for another few weeks when school holidays start.”

She shook her head at her own abandon. When she was with Nathan, every other consideration went out the window. It was more than a little scary.

He rolled close to her, nuzzling her neck.

“Anyway, I’d be more worried about them hearing us than seeing us. You make a lot of noise, Lizzy.”

She gasped and hit his shoulder, trying to push him away.

“I do not!” she said, even though she was well aware she’d practically been howling at the moon not five minutes ago.

He didn’t let her go. He kept pressing kisses against the soft skin beneath her ear, his tongue darting out occasionally to taste her.

“I like it. I like it a lot,” he whispered against her skin.

And that quickly it was back, the irresistible, undeniable heat. She turned her mouth toward him, kissing him hungrily. Giving herself up yet again to the moment and letting everything else—her future, her father, her curiosity about Nathan—fall by the wayside.

He moved to the edge of the bed. At least he hadn’t woken screaming. He should be grateful for small mercies. He’d be wired all day with the aftereffects of the adrenaline overload, of course. Edgy and tense. And tonight the odds were good that when he slipped into sleep the memories would be waiting for him again. Fear was great like that—the way it fed on itself until fear of fear itself became the biggest bogeyman of all.

He stood. He needed a shower.

He was halfway to the door when his phone started ringing. He fumbled beside the bed, finding his cell in the pocket of yesterday’s jeans. Elizabeth’s eyes flickered open as he checked the caller ID.

“Sam,” he said into the phone.

Elizabeth tensed as she heard her father’s name.

“Nate. I can’t talk long. We’re about to head out for off-coast drills. What’s up?”

“I needed to talk to you,” Nate said.

“Fire away.”

Elizabeth sat up, pulling the sheet over her breasts. Her eyes were anxious as she watched him and Nate felt the enormous responsibility of what he was doing—brokering the first contact between father and long-lost child.

“Mate, there’s someone here to see you. Her name is Elizabeth Mason—”

He broke off as Elizabeth touched his arm.

“My mother’s name was Eleanor Whittaker. He won’t recognize Mason.”

“Her mother was Eleanor Whittaker,” Nate said into the phone.

He paused, giving Sam the opportunity to jump in. He had no idea whether his friend even knew he had a child or if Elizabeth’s facts were straight or—

“How did she find me?”

Sam didn’t sound very surprised. Which probably meant he was well aware of Elizabeth’s existence.

And yet he’d never contacted her. Nate frowned.

“I’m not sure. Maybe you should ask her yourself. She’s here right now.”

“No. Don’t put her on.” Sam’s protest came so quickly it couldn’t be anything but a knee-jerk response.

Aware of Elizabeth hanging on his every word, Nate stood and grabbed a towel off the end of the bed, wedging the phone between shoulder and ear while he wrapped the towel around his hips. He made brief eye contact with Elizabeth as he headed for the door.

“Give me a minute,” he said, then he strode outside.

He waited until he was in the far corner of the yard and out of earshot before speaking again.

“What’s going on, Sam?”

“Listen, I can’t do this right now. The race kicks off in a couple of weeks. I need to have my head in the game.” Sam sounded panicky.

“She’s flown halfway around the world to find you.”

“I didn’t ask her to come.”

“Sam, she’s your
daughter.
”

He’d known Sam for nearly ten years, ever since they’d crewed together on a mutual friend’s boat. They’d sailed together, gotten drunk together, and for the past four months they’d been living together. If anyone had asked, Nate would have said Sam was an honorable guy—completely obsessed with the sea, sure, but a decent guy. Nate couldn’t believe that the man he knew was prepared to simply blow his daughter off without even talking to her.

“I don’t need the distraction right now, Nate. This is a big one. We’ve got a real chance of winning this year, which means we’ll contest the Transpac and maybe even the Fastnet.”

“Jesus, Sam, can you hear yourself? You’re talking about a bunch of races and I’m telling you your daughter is here, wanting to meet you for the first time in her freaking life.”

There was a short silence on the other end of the phone. Then Sam swore.

“All right. Put her on. I’ll talk to her.”

“Bloody generous of you.”

“Give me a break, will you? You caught me on the hop.”

“Right.”

Nate stared at the open door to the studio. He was of two minds about handing the phone over. He’d seen the hope in Elizabeth’s eyes when she heard who was calling. There was no way she wasn’t going to be disappointed by her father’s lackluster response. Hell, Nate was disappointed, and he had no vested interest in their relationship whatsoever. Sam had always been a difficult bugger, a loner with precious few social skills. But Elizabeth was his daughter.

Nate shrugged impatiently. None of this was any of his business—there was no reason whatsoever for him to feel protective and indignant on Elizabeth’s behalf. Just because he’d slept with her a few times didn’t make her his responsibility. He could barely get through the night without waking in a sweat and shaking like a baby. He had enough on his own plate without taking on someone else’s problems.

He lifted the phone to his ear again.

“Give me a second. I’ll go find her.”

“How come she’s hanging around at your place at eight in the morning, anyway?” Sam asked suspiciously.

Nate didn’t bother answering. A man who could barely muster the interest to talk to his own daughter had no right to ask those kinds of questions.

Elizabeth was pulling on her clothes when he entered. He offered her the phone.

“He wants to talk to you,” he said.

She hesitated a moment, her gaze searching his face. Then she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and reached for the phone. “Elizabeth speaking.”

Good manners dictated that Nate make himself scarce, but he wanted to make sure Sam was behaving himself first. He watched her face carefully as she listened to Sam on the other end of the phone.

“Nathan told me you were crewing for the big race. I’m more than happy to fly up to Sydney—”

She frowned as Sam said something on the other end to cut her off. Nate could guess what it was. Elizabeth lifted a hand and rubbed her forehead with her fingertips. “I see.”

There was a world of disappointment in those two words. Nate watched the expectation and anticipation slowly drain out of her. They hadn’t spoken about it—he deliberately hadn’t asked, and she hadn’t offered—but he knew she’d had high hopes of her long-lost father. What person wouldn’t? She’d probably imagined getting to know him, perhaps finding out they had things in common, slowly forging a bond….

“Of course. I understand,” she said.

Nate headed for the door. He didn’t want to play witness to her disappointment. He didn’t want to feel for her. He didn’t want to feel anything—had spent the past few months working damned hard, in fact, to achieve a state of numb indifference.

He went into the house and made coffee, telling himself all the while that Elizabeth was an adult. She could look after herself.

He was dressed and pouring milk into his coffee when the bead curtain on the rear door rattled. He turned to find Elizabeth standing there. She’d pulled her hair into a ponytail low on the back of her head and her face looked very pale.

“Thanks for that. I appreciate it.” She handed over his phone.

“You want some coffee?” he asked. Because no way was he asking if she was okay, or what Sam had said. He wasn’t getting involved. He refused to.

“No. I’m fine. I might head back to the hotel, actually. Thanks for dinner and…everything.”

She turned toward the door.

“You know your way back okay?” he asked, even though he knew she did, since she’d found him yesterday.

“Yes, thank you.”

She offered him a small, polite smile before exiting. Nate listened to the beads rattle against one another. Then he took his coffee to the kitchen table and sat.

She was upset. God only knew what Sam had said to her. Some bullshit about how important the race was, or some other piss-poor justification for his lack of interest.

He pulled the morning paper toward himself and flicked to the cartoon page. He read all his favorites, then folded the page in half to tackle the crossword puzzle.

And through it all, he couldn’t get Elizabeth out of his mind.

She deserved better. She’d come here looking for her father, for Pete’s sake.

Before he could think twice, Nate pushed away from the kitchen table. There was no sign of her in the street. He lengthened his stride as he reached the track to the beach. He spotted her straightaway once he hit the sand, a lone figure trudging toward town with her sandals in her hand.

“Elizabeth,” he called.

She paused and looked over her shoulder. He slowed to an easy lope as he crossed the final distance between them.

“You got plans for the day?” he asked when he reached her side.

She frowned as though she didn’t understand what he was asking. “Plans?”

“Are you doing anything?”

“Oh.” She blinked. “I was thinking of finding an Internet café so I could check my e-mail. But other than that…”

She shrugged. He hated the closed-down look behind her eyes. Bloody Sam. When Nate saw him next he was going to kick his ass.

“There’s a good northeasterly coming through. Great day to take the cat out, if you’re game.”

“You have a cat?”

“A catamaran, the
Rubber Ducky.
A Hobie 16. You ever sailed before, Lizzy?”

“No.”

He slung his arm around her shoulders. “Another first, then. What do you say?”

She looked confused for a moment, then she made an embarrassed sound and tried to wriggle out from under his arm.

“Trust you to bring that up. I knew I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Your secrets are safe with me, Lizzy. I promise.”

She stopped struggling. He tugged on her ponytail.

“Come on, it’ll be fun.”

“There’s that word again,” she said, her face downturned as she stared at something on the ground.

He tugged on her hair again. “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. Are you in or what, Lizzy?”

She thought about it for a moment. Then she lifted her face and met his eyes.

“Yes, I’m in.”