Instruction in Seduction (16 page)

The
Sofa City
lunch went well and her contract renewed; they loved her new sexy image. She didn’t divulge her secret but firm personal plan to give up her model role; that could wait.

Campaign Director Rhona told her, “Maybe it’s time for a new approach on the campaign? How about we find you a man match; up the heat? You’ve been solo on the sofa long enough.”

The ‘future planning’ meeting caused thoughts to crowd her mind all the way back. As soon as she’d got back to the office she made a phone call.

“Nick I need to see you.”

His voice was caramel rich, “See, I knew I was a woman magnet. You want me for my body again? Sure I could oblige.”

Ailsa wasn’t in the mood for flirtation-fun. “It’s reassurance I want; that you have no designs of ever falling in love with me. I need you to tell me it’s only sex. And that’s all that’s in it.”

The pause stretched out between them like a two mile bridge over a jagged canyon.

“I’m coming over,” he answered darkly. “Then you are going to tell me about your family, as hard as that may be. If you want me to sanction your demands you’ve got to come clean with me.” His voice was hard as Lapland ice.

Ailsa felt chills sprint from the bottom of her spine up to the tips of her hair.

“Lisa told me properly about Kirsty and your Mum. These are things I need to hear from you,” he told her. “I want to know why your past has made you intent on spoiling a good thing. And I want to know it all.”

***

Ailsa’s past would not be her Number One topic in a quiz show, a competition or even a five minute class talk.

She’d weathered enough sorry times for a hanky-soaker yet she often felt she’d barely shed enough tears. Not for lack of it affecting her but sometimes the best way to cope was assume a stoic shield and march on.

She’d barely known her father before he died; she’d been just two.

Ronnie Murray had a stroke at thirty two; no warning, no cause, just fatal. But it had meant she’d only known him through what her mother or Kirsty told her and old photographs. She’d poured over albums, looking for clues, connection. She’d watched one old cine film that was fuzzy to near destruction point.

Her quiz show topic would have had to have been losing the people who count most. How life takes the special ones no matter how hard you fear it.

So if she tried to keep detached and her heart intact, was that so bad or crazy? If it made her sound cool, careful and pragmatic in her approach. And if that made her avoid dating and long term notions, did it make her callous or fey?

Loss sucked. Loving someone with your whole heart meant risking your sanity. The gaping cavern inside her often scared her rigid; it was the worst pain and it came back to torment you.

First about how at eighteen she’d begun to resent Kirsty – nothing major, no fights or feuds. But somehow, it was hard not to be jaded by such a bright dazzling star. So yes, Ailsa had guilt about the misdirected feeling’s she’d had about her sexy, beautiful and magnetising sister.

As for her Mum, the overdose slammed inner fears loud and clear, “You’re not enough. I don’t want what’s left without my husband and my daughter.”

But what about me? What more can I do?

Ailsa looked at the locket pictures she held in her hand. Fuzzy Mum and Dad. Grinning Kirsty. She snapped it shut between her thumb and finger.

Losing loved ones and the fear effect it had on long term relationships would’ve been a subject she’d have scored a perfect ten thousand per cent in. Nick Palmer couldn’t even begin to understand how scared caring made her. How she could never risk feeling vulnerable again.

And if he wanted to talk about it – it was surely time to stop.

***

Ailsa caught her breath and nearly caught her fingers in the filing cabinet drawer when Nick pulled her around, stealthily as a panther. His touch was indelible. She could recognise it in an identity parade of fingerprints on flesh.

“So let’s talk.” His voice was as dark as it had been on the phone. “Want to go out?”

“I can’t. I’m working.”

“Then we’ll talk here.”

When he was riled and darkly on the verge of suppressed anger it excited her; she was never scared of Nick, just stimulated by the intense passion within.
But she must resist. Nick was closing in and she couldn’t let this get deeper.

“Ms Murray, we need to get something straight. This isn’t just about training you how to have good sex.” His eyes glowed at his words.

And her fury was still on a low simmer that could quickly reheat. “And that won’t be happening any more. Now that I know you go behind my back and talk to Lisa.”

“Needs must; at least she gives me a window on what goes on inside your mind. I’m serious. This isn’t a switch I can turn off.”

He stormed to her and took her in his arms. Then he parted her lips with his tongue and told her what all the words in the world could not. She stopped him.

“We going home now to prove that you matter more than any list or quick good time?”

“No. I’ve work to do.”

“So, is Lisa right about your sister and Mum being at the root of your cold feet? You figure by blocking people out for the rest of your life, you’ll glide through life’s glitches. Well I’m sorry but life doesn’t work that way. As tragic as things have been, you are going to have to move on.”

The comments about her losses may have met the mark but that didn’t mean she was ready to accept it. So what if he saw beneath her veneer of capability and saw the cracks too ably?

Ailsa stepped back. “Lisa had no right telling you. Move on? You say it like you know the first thing about it.”

“I do,” he replied softly. “I had an elder brother who died in a holiday accident. The ordeal my family went through getting my brother’s body back made me vow to work in tourism and make things better.”

Ailsa let his words sink in then perused him suspiciously for a second. “Why are you wearing that fancy suit?” It was a very nice suit. Sharply tailored and worn with gleaming expensive shoes. In a boardroom he’d be unbeatable. Troubling also. From here the threads looked distinctly Armani.

“An interview of sorts,” he clarified. “Actually it was a staff briefing at
Chez Angelle
. You’re looking at the new owner; call it a promising new direction.”

Serious.

Ailsa stared, reeling from his words.

Nick said softly. “It was your reaction to the place that caused me to reconsider their approach to me. I’m glad I did. Hopefully it’ll become a home from home for us.”

A death knell sounded in her heart. Klaxon alarms heralded it was time for her emotional nuclear bunker. The situation was way worse than she’d thought.

“Isn’t what you’ve already got enough?”

He perched on the edge of her desk. “Maybe I want firmer roots and a change of scene.”

She took in the impeccable dark suit, the pristine package. What was it about a suit and white shirt that made her hormones jump up and disco? Was this how he dressed in London? Whatever, none of it mattered because now she knew she had to find the brakes and use them, fast.

“I’m not getting through to you am I? You’re marching to a crazed tune and you need to be serious. You can’t go uprooting your life after a brief fling.”

Nick argued back, “Brief fling it may be to you…” He glared like fury. “I’m so mad at you. Right now I’d like nothing more than to throw you across the desk and seeing what’s under your sensible work clothes. Making love to you until you can’t deny what we have transcends ordinary by so vast a margin it’s incredible. Why push me away and act like you’re waiting for another bus to come?” He rebuked her with clear retaliation.

She saw the hurt in his eyes and the anger in his taut corded muscles. She knew her answers hurt him but surely this was for the best? His son should be his ultimate priority. God knows she’d lived without a father long enough to know the harsh void that left. She couldn’t let Nick lose focus.

Ailsa summoned a calming breath and a lighter tone. “When are you going back to London? I think we need cool time.”

Nick narrowed granite eyes. “Am I cramping your style?”

Ailsa paced the room, putting things in places she’d probably never find them, feeling she needed her hands occupied, her feet moving. And her gaze away from his glaring stare.

“Neglecting your life for me is a mistake. I made mistakes, Nick. Just call me sensitive to missed opportunities.”

“What are you talking about?”

“My sister. My mother. My home. I’ve lost them all through inattention.” Her voice was dry when she tried to finish the sentence, “Go back to London.”

He narrowed his eyes failing to tease her logic apart. “How on earth do you manage to conclude you’re a guilty party?”

“I wasn’t there for Kirsty. In fact I went to London to escape being the underling sister. She never knew that. I wasn’t enough for Mum either.”

Nick pushed his hand over his jaw. “You honestly can’t be serious. Your sister died in a tragic accident. Sibling rivalry isn’t a crime. Your mother clearly had devastating mental health problems you could never hope to solve.”

“It’s still my failings; I’m responsible!” Ailsa shouted so loud it shocked him. “You should still go home.”

He blew out a ragged breath. “I’ve told the company I’ll be gone another month. And yes it’s you I’d planned staying for.”

“Then you should revisit.” Her face was a mask of taut assumed calm. Inside she was maelstrom of hurt and confused fear.

Nick pulled her by the arms but she kept stiff and unyielding.

He pushed her back to look at her but still she remained impassive. The phone rang on her desk and she was grateful to leave his body space.

“Later,” he said. And slammed the door on his way out.

***

Chapter Eleven

Nick arrived back at Sally’s late. Late as in well after midnight and Ailsa had spent over an hour watching the clock. She’d called his mobile but it had been off.

The noise downstairs betrayed his arrival at ten past one.

Ailsa found him in the hallway as bleary eyed as she was. He’d been drinking, not overmuch, but he’d definitely imbibed. She could smell beer on his breath and coffee. The turn-on of the light taste of beer on Nick’s tongue as it devoured hers was a reminder that caused a tremor deep inside her.

“I was worried. Where were you?” she asked.

“Andy’s.”

“They okay?”

“Peachy.” He didn’t meet her gaze. She could tell by his tone that things were far from that.

“I left some dinner if you still want it?”

He shook his head and took off his coat then cast it aside on a chair but it missed and fell to the floor. He undid his shirt buttons and rolled up his sleeves. “Nope. I’m done in.”

“About earlier…” she said softly. She heard the clock tick on the wall behind her.

He was on her in a second, eyes burning. “You think you can push me away and I’ll bounce back ready for playtime like it doesn’t matter?”

She hadn’t before appreciated the true passionate potential of an argument in a small confined space. His hands were on her in seconds. Rough, demanding. Unlatching her robe in haste and snapping the ties of her nightdress. Rough fingers claiming her silk-sheathed breast as his mouth and teeth assaulted hers. She found she needed this; the punishment felt warranted to her guilt-marred conscience.

Nick’s eyes were wounded as he roughly pulled away her nightshirt.

She’d gasped into his mouth as he’d kissed her hard. Her head was against the wall and that kiss was merciless. His hands echoed the sentiments of his tongue.

“Nick!”

“Don’t say a word. Today you’ve driven me crazy.”

“I only need you to be wary.”

“It’s too late for wary.”

They went for it. Seizing sublime abandonment in the middle of Sally’s sedate, functional whitewashed and classy oil-painting hung hallway. Before she knew it her legs were wrapped around his middle and then she was sitting astride the telephone table, her nightshirt around her middle, the robe discarded across the floor. Nick was sucking her nipples, scratching her into divine wanton abandonment with the exquisite torture of his teeth on her sensitised skin as she grabbed his hair.

She’d never fully appreciated this level of crazed, wild heat before.

He opened his fly and his hard length’s tip was almost inside her then a condom came from who knew where. He jammed inside her hard and fast. She’d never wanted it that way more.

Nick had cleared the table with a wild hand. A cactus plant in a bowl hit the floorboards with a smash but they were heedless. Mindless in their pursuit of heady release. He thundered inside her and took no mercy as she screamed out his name and claimed every thrust like she’d earned it. She clamoured for him. And bucked and writhed beneath his touch.

“You’re wild,” she breathed as she felt his hands on her clitoris.

He stroked her heat that got ever more thrilling the more serious it turned and took her over the edge a swift second time. He came inside her as the table broke and smashed beneath her and he carried Ailsa, still inside her, to the stairs.

His face was in her hair, at her throat, his hands everywhere.

“I want you and I can’t let go. You need to understand that.”

This new urgent side to Nick made her weak and willing and desperate. It escalated to climax again fast.

Nick whispered, “Bedroom.” Though neither of them could stand.

She’d delighted in the speed of his recovery from their prior adventure. But now they were both spent, lying tangled with Sally’s hallway in wreckage around them.

“Nick…” she moaned lightly against his lips. “We’ve finished most of the list now. Is inventing a new list permissible?” she whispered.

“Anything you want, baby.” He rested his forehead on hers. “I’m there to make it work. This weekend I want to arrange something. Time together, just us. Time to work things through.”