JUST ONE MORE NIGHT (13 page)

It wasn’t love, yet, but they were definitely getting closer. “I’m...” She suppressed the dangerous, undisciplined urge to blurt out that she was head over heels in love with him and had been for years. “I’m happy.”

His gaze slid to the half-empty flute.

Elena took a deep breath and tried to drag her gaze from the fascinating pulse beating on the side of his jaw. “It’s not the champagne.” She examined the pale liquid with its pretty bubbles and without regret tossed what was left into the depths of a leafy green shrub. “I don’t need champagne to spend the night with you.”

To make gorgeous, tender, maybe even adventurous love with the man she loved.

For a split second the night seemed to go still, the tension thick enough to cut. “You don’t have to sleep with me if you don’t want. The quiz was a spur-of-the-moment thing. I shouldn’t have—”

“We have a bargain. You
can’t
back out.”

Startlement registered in his expression. Relief flooded Elena. She had been desperately afraid he was going to release her from their deal. By her estimation the next few hours together were crucial. If they didn’t make love and dissolve the last frustrating, invisible barriers between them, they might never have another chance.

In response, Nick reeled her in close with his free hand, fitting her tightly enough against him that she could feel his masculine arousal. “Does this feel like I’m backing out?”

The breath hitched in her throat at the graphic knowledge that Nick very definitely wanted her. “No.”

“Good, because I’m not.”

He took the flute from her and set it down with his own on the arm of a nearby wooden bench. Taking her hand, he drew her down the short path to his cottage.

The warm light from his porch washed over taut cheekbones and the solid line of his jaw as, without releasing her hand, he unlocked the door and pushed it wide.

Instead of standing to one side to allow her to precede him, Nick stepped toward her. At first, Elena thought he wanted to kiss her, then the world spun dizzily as he swung her into his arms.

Startled, Elena clutched at Nick’s shoulders as he stepped into the lit hall and kicked the door closed behind him. Seconds later he set her on her feet in the middle of a large room lit by the flicker of candles and smelling of flowers. Heart still pounding, and pleasure humming through her at a gesture that was traditionally shared by a bride and groom, Elena inhaled the perfume of lavish bunches of white roses.

Nick took his cell out of his pocket and placed it on a workstation in a small alcove that also contained a laptop and a file. The small action made her intensely aware that, for the first time ever, she was in Nick’s personal quarters—not his home, because the resort cottage was only a temporary accommodation, but in his private space.

Elena strolled to one of the vases of flowers.

“Do you like them?”

Throat tight with emotion, Elena touched a delicate petal with one fingertip. She was trying to be sensible and pragmatic, trying not to get her hopes too high, but she couldn’t
not
feel wonder and pleasure at the trouble Nick had gone to.

Even though the room, with its candles and flowers, had most probably been staged by one of the resort professionals, it was still quite possibly the most romantic gesture any man had ever made. More wonderful than the traditional red roses Robert had sent to her. Even though she had been thrilled to receive the bouquet, thrilled at the fact that for the first time in her life she was being wooed, Robert’s dozen red roses hadn’t made her heart squeeze tight.

Blinking back the moisture that seemed to be filling her eyes, she straightened. “I love white roses. How did you know?”

“I got my PA to research what flowers you liked.” Nick picked up a remote from a low teak coffee table and pressed a button. A tango filled the air, sending an instant thrill down her spine and spinning her back to the steamy tango they had danced at Gemma’s wedding.

Determinedly, she dismissed the small core of disappointment that had formed at the systematic, logical way Nick had selected the flowers for their night together. Using a PA was a very corporate solution. She should know; she had done similar personal tasks herself for her Atraeus bosses.

Nick may not have personally known what flowers she liked, he may not have staged the room, but he had arranged it for her pleasure.

She forced herself to move on from the flowers and examined the rest of the interior. Furnished with dark leather couches, low tables and exotic teak armoires, the stark masculinity was relieved by a pile of yachting books on a side table and an envelope of what looked like family snapshots.

The family photos, some of which had slid out of the envelope, riveted her attention because they proved that Nick loved his family, that at a bedrock level, relationships were vitally important to him.

She sensed Nick’s approach a moment before he turned her around and drew her into his arms. The tango wound its sinuous way through the candlelit room as she allowed him to pull her closer still and the night seemed to take on an aching throb. Filled with an utter sense of rightness, Elena wound her arms around Nick’s neck and went up on her toes to touch her mouth to his.

Long, drugging seconds later, Nick lifted his head. “That’s the first time you’ve actually kissed me properly.”

“I’ve changed.” Elena concentrated on keeping her expression serene. As tempted as she was to let Nick take control, to simply abandon herself to sensation, she couldn’t afford to get lost in a whirlwind of passion as she had done on the last two occasions. To maximize her chances of success with him, she needed to keep her head and control her responses.

Threading her fingers through Nick’s hair, she pulled his mouth back to hers.

Conditions were not ideal for the love scene she had thought would take place. For one thing, she hadn’t had time to slip into the sexy lingerie, or the jersey silk dress she had intended to wear. She hadn’t had the chance to shower or use the expensive body lotion she had bought, which would have been a more pleasant alternative to the residue of sea salt on her skin.

She couldn’t allow any of that to matter. Luckily, she had remembered to pack the book of lovemaking techniques in her beach bag, intending to read it on the beach, so at least she could attempt to be a little more sophisticated than she’d been on previous occasions.

As if in response to the sensuality sizzling in the air, the tango music grew smokier.

Feeling a little nervy, Elena dragged at the buttons of Nick’s shirt. As she unfastened the last button, she watched, mouth dry as Nick shrugged out of it, letting the limp cotton drop to the floor.

With his shirt off, his shoulders muscular and gleaming in the glow of candlelight, his chest broad and abs washboard tight, Nick was beautiful in a completely masculine way. The dark hair sprinkled across his chest and arrowed to the waistband of his pants, adding an earthy edge that made her pulse race. He pulled her close for another kiss, this one deeper, longer than the last.

Once again, determined to take the initiative, Elena found the waistband of Nick’s pants and tugged, pulling Nick with her as she walked backward in the direction of the bedrooms.

If this cottage was the same as hers, and so far it looked identical, the master bedroom would be a short walk down the hall and to the left, with a set of doors opening out onto the terrace.

She managed to maneuver a step to the right so she could grab the strap of her beach bag on the way.

Nick lifted his head, his brows jerking together when he noticed the bag, but by then they were in the hall and the ultimate destination of the bedroom was clear.

The plan stalled for a few seconds when Nick planted one hand on the doorjamb, preventing further progress. He cupped her jaw, sliding the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip in a caress that made her head spin. “Maybe we should slow this down—”

“You mean wait?” A little breathlessly, Elena tugged at the annoyingly difficult fastening of his jeans. By now, Nick should have been naked.

Fourteen

N
ick’s palm curled around to cup her nape. “Are you sure this is what you want? I had planned something a little more—”

She found the zipper and dragged it down.

Nick made an odd groaning sound. “Uh, never mind...” With a deft movement, he undid what looked like a double fastening and peeled out of the jeans.

Elena’s mouth went dry. With Nick wearing nothing more than the swimming trunks he’d had on beneath his jeans while she was still fully dressed, the sexual initiative should have been hers, a clear message to him that she was no longer a novice at this. But with the golden wash of light from the sitting room flaring over taut, bronzed muscles and adding a heated gleam to his gaze, there was no hint that Nick had registered the dominating tactic. He looked utterly, spectacularly at home in his own skin.

Seconds later, in a further reversal, Elena found herself propelled gently backward into the bedroom. She remembered to hang on to the strap of the bag, which had slipped off her shoulder and hooked around her wrist. Having to concentrate on keeping the bag and the book with her was an unexpected boon, because the sensual control she’d worked so hard to establish was rapidly dissolving into an array of delicious sensations that made it very hard to think.

Nick’s fingers brushed her nape. Heat surged through her as she felt the neckline of her tunic loosen. Cool air flowed against her skin as the tunic slipped to her waist, trapping her arms.

Nick took advantage of her trapped arms to bend and brush his lips over one shoulder. The featherlight kiss sent another throb of sensual heat through her, before she dropped her bag and finally managed to wriggle her arms free.

A split second later the entire tunic floated to the floor, informing her that while she had been concentrating on the logistics of moving Nick into the bedroom, his fingers had been busy undoing the entire line of buttons that ran down her back.

A wave of melting heat zinged through her as Nick’s hands cupped her breasts through the thin Lycra of her bikini. Dipping his head, he took one breast into his mouth, and for long, shimmering moments she lost focus as the aching throb low in her belly gathered and tightened.

Dimly, she noted that this part of the seduction was not going to plan. She had hoped to keep all of her clothes on until the last moment. Somehow things had deteriorated to the point that she was in danger of being naked first and once more irresistibly propelled into a whirlpool of passion.

Nick transferred his attention to her mouth. Without thinking, her arms coiled around his neck as she arched into the kiss and fitted herself more closely against him. With a slick movement, he picked her up and deposited her on the bed, following her down and sprawling beside her.

She felt a tug at her hips, the coolness of air as her bikini bottoms were stripped down her legs. Her brain snapped back into gear when she realized that for a few seconds she had allowed herself to drift in a pleasurable daze and now was completely naked.

Bracing her palms on Nick’s chest, she pushed.

He frowned. “You want to be on top?”

She drew a deep breath. “Yes.” The position was the most basic in the book, but it had the advantage of being easy to remember.

Obligingly, he subsided onto his back. Taking a deep breath, Elena began the business of peeling the swim trunks down. With Nick now impressively naked and the trunks in her hand she realized she had forgotten one crucial step: the condom.

Mouth dry, she clambered off the bed and rummaged in her beach bag until she found the box of condoms she had bought earlier in the day. Feeling a little panicked because she sensed the ambiance was deteriorating, she selected one at random. In the process a number of the packets flew onto the floor.

Nick slid off the bed. His light green gaze pinned her. “When did you buy these?”

The sudden grim tension made her freeze in place. “Yesterday.”

“Then they’re not for Corrado.”

“No.” She blinked at the idea that she would want to sleep with Robert. Although that concept was overridden by a far more riveting one. Nick was jealous of Robert. “I haven’t slept with Robert.”

Nick released her wrist, relief registering in his gaze. “Good.”

The conversation was blunt and inconclusive, but the fragile hope that had been slowly, but gradually, growing over the past two days unfurled a little more.

With an easy, fluid motion, Nick picked up the box and began shoveling condoms back into it. “These look...interesting.”

“I just grabbed the first box I found.” And unfortunately, it seemed to be filled with an assortment of acidic colors and strange ribbed shapes.

As she attempted to tear open one of the packets, Nick picked her up with easy strength and deposited her back on the bed with him, pulling her close. The rough heat of his palms at her hips, gliding to the small of her back, urged her closer still.

The foil packet tore across. A black, ribbed shape emerged. Nick made a choked sound—a split second later he kissed her.

Swamped by a sudden sensual overload, she kissed him back. Long seconds later, she surfaced. The condom was still clutched in one hand; she had almost forgotten it. Not good.

Pulling free, she eased down Nick’s body.

Obligingly, he allowed her to fit the condom. She had almost mastered the art of rolling it on when, jaw taut, Nick stayed her hand.

In a strained voice he muttered, “Maybe you should let me do that.”

With an expert motion he completed the sheathing. Face oddly taut, he pulled her beneath him. Before she could protest, he kissed her, his gaze soft, his mouth quirked. “Sorry, babe. You can be on top next.”

Babe.
A quiver of pleasure went through her at the easy endearment. Entranced by Nick’s heat and weight, his clean masculine scent laced with sea salt, it suddenly ceased to matter that her plan had been overridden, or that she’d had a plan at all.

She was with the man she loved with all her heart. As he came down between her legs in the intense, heated joining that seared her to her very core, she had a split second to log that, as inspiring as the book with its chapters of advice was, in that moment it ceased to have any relevance.

Lost in coiling shimmers of sensation with Nick, she had everything she needed and more.

* * *

A rapping at the door pulled Elena out of a deep, dreamless sleep. Nick was sprawled next to her, the sheet low around his hips, sunlight flowing across the strong, muscular lines of his back.

Suppressing the urge to ignore whoever was at the door and snuggle back against him, she glanced at the bedside clock, which confirmed that it was late, past nine.

Another rap had her sliding out of bed. Grabbing a white terry-cloth robe she found draped over a chair, she finger-combed her hair as she padded to the front door.

Her first thought—that it was someone from the hotel wanting to speak to Nick—died when, through a window she glimpsed two feminine figures. Both were casually, if elegantly dressed, which suggested they were guests.

It occurred to her that they could be clients from her seminar who’d decided that What Women Really Want meant some kind of license to pursue Nick.

If that was the case, she thought, becoming more annoyed by the second, they were about to be disappointed. The days of Nick being pursued by gorgeous young things who thought he was free were over. Nick was no longer free: he was
hers.

A rosy glow spread through her at the thought. Suddenly, wearing a bathrobe to the door had its upside. She was in Nick’s cabin. It was obvious she had been in his bed.

She wrenched the door open and froze.

“Elena?” Francesca Messena, dressed in snug jeans, red heels and a filmy red shirt peered at her. “We knocked on your door—”

“When you didn’t answer, we figured you must be here.” Sophie Messena, cool and serene in an oversize white linen shirt and white leggings, frowned. “Are you all right? Honey, can you speak?”

Elena clutched at the lapels of her bathrobe, which had begun to gape, but it was too late, Sophie and Francesca had already zeroed in on the red mark at the base of her neck. “I’m fine. Never better.”

Sophie glanced at her twin. “She doesn’t look fine.” Her voice turned imperious. “Where’s Nick?”

Francesca gave Elena a sympathetic look. “We heard about the bet.”

“What bet?” Elena attempted to block the doorway, but she was too slow. The Messena twins, both taller than her by several inches, and as lithe and graceful as cats, had already flowed past her into the hall.

“It wasn’t a bet,” a gravelly voice interjected. “It was a wager.”

A split second later, Nick, strolled out of the bedroom dressed in jeans, hair ruffled, his torso bare. If there had ever been any doubt for the twins about what they had spent the night doing, it was gone.

Nick’s gaze pinned her. Linking his fingers with hers, he drew her close, then casually draped an arm around her waist, holding her against his side. “Let me guess who told you. Eva.”

Francesca picked up Nick’s shirt, which was still lying on the floor from the previous evening, and pointedly tossed it over the back of a chair. “We’re not at liberty to reveal our source.”

“You should say sources,” Sophie corrected her twin. “Then he gets left guessing.”

Francesca lifted a brow. “Hmm. Obviously, you’re much better at this than me.”

Sophie folded her arms across her chest as if she was settling in for the duration. “I’m in retail. It leads to wisdom.”

Nick’s arm tightened around her. “Now that you’ve had your say and seen that Elena survived the night, you can leave. I love you, but you’ve got approximately...” He consulted his wristwatch. “Five minutes before we start making love again.”

“Before what?” Francesca’s brows jerked together. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Sophie ignored Nick and looked directly at Elena. “I heard the wager was for one night. You should leave if you want.”

Elena was abruptly tired of the intervention, as well-meaning as it was. “It’s not about one night,” she said firmly. “We’re in love. This is about the rest of our lives.”

There was a ringing silence.

Francesca sent Nick a level look. “Then I guess congratulations are in order.”

* * *

After breakfast, Nick suggested they leave for Auckland and his apartment, where they could be guaranteed privacy for a few days. The seminar was technically finished. There was no need for Elena to go to the main part of the resort, and since she wasn’t a guest, she didn’t have to check out. Her car was a rental, so it was easy enough to arrange to have it collected from the resort, which meant she could travel with him.

Elena was happy to pack and leave. Ever since the twins had burst in she had felt unsettled and on edge. Nick had been nice. More, he had been charming, but the good manners and consideration were oddly distancing.

She found herself desperately wanting him to revert to type, to be blunt and irritable or even outright annoying. She would rather fight with him than endure this sense of being held at arm’s length.

On the bright side, they were going to spend the next few days together, before she had to fly back to Sydney, and Nick had mentioned a sailing holiday. It wasn’t everything she wanted, but it was a positive start.

The drive to Auckland took three hours. Exhausted from an almost sleepless night, Elena dozed most of the way and woke as Nick pulled into an underground parking lot.

Minutes later, they walked into his penthouse, which had a breathtaking view of the Waitemata Harbour.

The penthouse itself was huge, large enough to fit three normal-size houses into, with expanses of blond wood flooring and an entire wall of glass.

Nick showed her to a room. Her heart beat a little faster until he dropped his bag beside hers. With relief she realized they were sharing his room.

Feeling happier and almost relaxed, Elena strolled through the apartment and checked out the kitchen before stepping out onto a patio complete with swimming pool and planters overflowing with tropical shrubs.

While she was admiring a particularly beautiful bromeliad with tiger stripes and a brilliant pink throat, Nick’s arms came around her from behind.

“I have to apologize for my family. Sophie and Francesca should have stayed out of it.”

She turned in his grasp and braced her hands on his arms, preserving a slight distance. “You mean stayed out of our relationship?”

“Uh-huh.”

Elena frowned, but Nick had already drawn her close and the feel of his lips on the side of her neck was making it difficult to think. Just before he kissed her, it occurred to her that Nick had carefully avoided saying the word
relationship.

* * *

Elena woke to the dim grayness of early evening in a tangle of sheets. Nick’s arm was draped heavily across her waist, as if even in sleep he wanted to keep her close.

Easing herself from the bed so as not to wake him, she picked up his shirt, which was puddled on the floor, shrugged into it and padded to the bathroom.

The reflection that bounced back at her stopped her in her tracks. Dressed in the oversize shirt, with her hair ruffled, eyes still slumberous from sleep and faint red marks from Nick’s stubble on her jaw and neck, she looked like a woman who had been well loved.

Her cheeks warmed at the memory of the few hours they’d spent in bed. The lovemaking had been sweet and gorgeous and very tender. While she hadn’t gotten a chance to consult the book, mainly because Nick had snatched it out of her grip and tossed it over the balcony, she had gotten to be on top,
twice.

Elena used the facilities, and washed her hands and face. Feeling absurdly happy, she studied Nick’s razor and the various toiletries lined up on the vanity, and gave in to the urge to take the top off his bottle of aftershave. The familiar resinous scent made her stomach clench and her toes curl.

Strolling out to the kitchen, she poured herself a glass of water then walked through the sitting room, fingers trailing over sleek, minimalist furniture. The thought that this could be her home for the foreseeable future filled her with a rosy glow.