JUST ONE MORE NIGHT (7 page)

It was a major shift in her thinking. She didn’t know if Nick could be anything to her beyond a fatal attraction. All she knew was that with his gaze fixed on hers and the unsettling awareness sizzling between them, the possibility seemed to float in the air.

That, and the knowledge that she was about to lose him in approximately two minutes.

She drew a swift breath. If she wanted Nick, she would have to take a risk. She would have to fight for him.

The fingers of her free hand curled into one of the lapels of his waistcoat where it hung open, her thumb automatically sweeping over the small button.

Surprise at the small possessive gesture flared in his gaze and was quickly replaced by a heat that took her breath. “I have to leave early in the morning.”

She did her best to conceal her shock at how quickly he had cut to the chase and assumed that they would spend the night together, and the instant stab of hurt evoked by his blunt pronouncement that he had to leave. She had already known he was flying out on business. “Yes.”

“You don’t mind?”

She did, like crazy, but she wasn’t about to let him know that. She had decided to take the risk of trying for a relationship with Nick. That meant she had to toughen up because a measure of hurt would naturally be involved.

She forced a smile. “I’m only here for a few days myself, then I need to be back in Sydney.”

He wound a finger in her hair, the touch featherlight, and she tried not to love it too much. “For the record, my dating is usually on a casual basis. Most of it happens around yachting events when I’m racing.”

That wasn’t news to Elena. Her current Atraeus boss was a sailor, which meant there were quite often yachting magazines lying around in the office. Nick’s name occasionally leaped out from the pages. “Which is quite often.”

His breath wafted against her cheek, damp and warm and faintly scented with the champagne they’d drunk at the wedding. “Granted.”

She inhaled and tried to drag her gaze from the slice of brown flesh and sprinkling of dark hair visible in the opening of his shirt. “But there have been a lot of women.”

The album, which had been tucked under her arm, slipped and fell to the floor, as if to punctuate her statement.

His hands closed on the bare skin of her arms, his palms warm and faintly abrasive, sending darting rivulets of fire shimmering through her. “According to the tabloids. But we both know how reliable they are as a source of information.”

Nick bent his head, bringing his mouth closer to hers. “If you don’t want me to stay the night, just say so, and I’ll leave you alone.”

As he drew her close, she gripped the lapels of his shirt, preserving a small distance. Despite committing to a night with him, caution was kicking in. She needed more. “
Why
me?”

“For the same reason it’s always been. I’m attracted to you. I like you.”

A month ago, on a street in Auckland, he had said he
liked
her. It wasn’t enough, but coupled with the chemistry that vibrated between them and the fact that the rift between their families would now be healed, a relationship suddenly seemed viable.

Cupping Nick’s stubbled jaw, she lifted up on her toes and kissed him. A split second later she found herself in his arms. With a heady sense of inevitability, she looped her arms around his neck, heat clenching low in her belly as she fitted herself even more closely against the hard angles and planes of his body.

After all the years of being calmly, methodically organized, of never losing her cool, there was something exhilarating about abandoning herself to a passionate interlude with Nick.

“That’s better.” He smiled, a glimpse of the uncomplicated charm that had always entrapped her, the kind of charm that made little kids flock around him and old ladies sit and chat. Except this time it was all for her and enticingly softer.

As Nick’s mouth settled on hers, the reason he was so successful with women hit her. Despite the hard muscle and the wickedly hot exterior, he possessed a bedrock niceness that made women melt.

It was there in the way he noticed small things, like the color of her eyes and the fact that she was wearing contacts, the way he had rescued her from the blind date six years ago when he didn’t have to get involved.

Her feet lost contact with the floor; the light of the hall faded to dim shadows as they stepped into a bedroom.

With a sense of inevitability, Elena noted the wide soft bed, with its lush piled cushions and rich red coverlet.

A lavish, traditional Medinian marriage bed, arrayed for a wedding. The room she had whimsically decorated.

The same room in which Nick had made love to her the last time.

Eight

F
itful moonlight shafted through a thick bridal veil of gauze festooning a tall sash window as Elena was set down on marble-smooth floorboards.

Nick shrugged out of his shirt, revealing sleekly powerful shoulders, a broad chest and washboard abs.

His mouth captured hers as he locked her against the furnace heat of his body. The hot shock of skin on skin momentarily made her head swim, but for all that, the kiss and the muscled hardness of his chest felt, oddly, like coming home.

Lifting up on her toes, she wound her arms around his neck and kissed him back. She felt the zipper of her dress glide down, the sudden looseness. Seconds later, she shrugged out of the straps and let the flimsy cotton float to the floor. Another long, drugging kiss and her bra was gone.

Bending, Nick took one breast into his mouth and for long aching minutes the night seemed to slow, stop, as heat and sensation coiled tight.

She heard his rapid intake of breath. A split second later she found herself deposited on the silken-soft bed.

Feeling a little self-conscious and exposed, Elena slipped beneath the red coverlet, unexpected emotion catching in her throat as she watched Nick peel out of his trousers. She was used to seeing him in a modern setting as masculine, muscled and hot, but cloaked in moonlight and shadows, his bronzed skin gleaming in the glow of light from the hall, he was unexpectedly, fiercely beautiful, reminding her of paintings of Medinian warriors of old.

Dimly, she registered a rustling sound, like paper or foil. The bed depressed as Nick pulled the coverlet aside and came down beside her. The heat of his body sent a raw quiver through her as he pulled her close.

His gaze locked with hers, the softness she had noted in the hall giving her the reassurance she suddenly desperately needed.

He propped himself on one elbow, a frown creasing his brow. “Are you all right?”

She cupped his jaw and tried for a confident smile. “I’m fine.”

One long finger stroked down her cheek. “Then why do I get the feeling that you’re not quite comfortable with this?”

“Probably because I haven’t done
this
in a while.”

Something flared in his gaze. “How long?”

“Uh—around six years, I guess.”

He said something soft beneath his breath. “Six years ago you slept with me.”

The breath caught in her throat. “I guess, given what happened that night, you’re not likely to forget.”

“If the accident hadn’t happened, I would still have remembered,” he said quietly, “since you were a virgin.”

For a split second she felt his indecision, the streak of masculine honor that had once been ingrained in Medinian culture. Abruptly afraid that he might abandon the whole idea of making love, that she might lose this chance to get him back in her life, she took a deep breath and boldly trailed a hand down his chest. “I’m not a virgin now.”

He inhaled sharply and trapped her hand beneath his, then used it to pull her close so that she found herself half sprawled across his chest. “Good.”

He rolled, taking her with him so that he was on top, his heavy weight pressing her down into the feather-soft mattress. Dipping his head, he kissed her mouth, her throat, and finally took one breast in his mouth.

Elena tensed, palms sliding across his shoulders, the sleek muscles of his back, as rivulets of fire seemed to spread out from that one point, culminating in a restless, aching throb.

He shifted his attention to her other breast, and in that moment heat and pleasure coiled and condensed, exploding into aching, shimmering pleasure as the night spun away.

Nick muttered something short and flat. Moments later his weight pressed her more deeply into the bed. She felt him between her legs, and relief flowed through her as slowly, achingly, he entered her.

The faint drag of what could only be a condom made her eyes fly open. The sound she had registered earlier suddenly made sense. Nick had sheathed himself, which meant he’d had the condom in his pocket.

The realization was like a cold dash of water. She shouldn’t think about the condom. She shouldn’t allow it to matter, but it did, because it meant he had been prepared to have sex with
someone,
not necessarily her.

Nick was oddly still, his expression taut as if he had gauged every one of the emotions that had just flitted across her face. “Something’s wrong. Do you want me to stop?” A muscle pulsed along the side of his jaw.
“Yes, or no?”

The words were quietly delivered, without any trace of frustration or need—just a simple question. Although she could see the effort it was costing him in the corded muscles of neck and shoulders.

The blunt, male way he had presented her with the choice brought her back to her original reason for making love: because she wanted another chance with him.

At the thought of losing him, contrarily, she wanted him with a fierce, no-holds-barred need that rocked her.

For every reason that shouldn’t matter—because he was too elusive, too spoiled by the women he had dated and way too dangerous for her heart—he was the last man she could afford in her life.

And yet he was the only man to whom she had ever been truly, passionately attracted.

There was no logic to what she felt, no reason why he should smell and taste and
feel
right when no one else had ever come close.

Unless somehow, despite the frustration and anger and sheer loneliness of the past few years, she had somehow fallen for him, and he was
The One.

She clamped down on the moment of shocked awareness. This was where she had gone wrong the first time with Nick—she had wanted too much, expected too much.

Every feminine instinct she had informed her that applying any form of pressure at this point would scare Nick off, and she couldn’t afford that. Framing his face with her hands, she drew his mouth to hers, distracting him from discovering that she might have done the one thing that seemed to scare men the most and fallen for him. “The answer is no, I don’t want you to stop.”

She promised herself she wouldn’t cry as relief registered in his gaze and gently, slowly, he began to move.

There was a moment of utter stillness when he was fully sheathed and they were finally, truly one, and then he undid her completely by softly kissing her mouth.

His thumb brushed away a trickle of moisture that had somehow escaped one eye, then he pulled her closer still, holding her with exquisite care and tenderness as if he truly did love her. A heated, stirring pleasure that was still shatteringly familiar despite the passage of years, gripped her as they began to move.

Locked together in the deep well of the night, the angst and hurt of the past dissolved. Nothing mattered but the way Nick held her, the way he made her feel, as the coiling, burning intensity finally peaked and the night spun away.

* * *

In the early hours of the morning, Elena woke, curled in against the furnace heat of Nick’s body. His arm was curved around her waist, keeping her close, as if even in sleep he couldn’t bear to be parted from her.

A surge of pure joy went through her. She had taken the risk, and it was working. Nick had been tender and sweet, and the passion had, if anything, been even hotter, even more intense.

She was convinced that this time they really had a chance.

The false start six years ago had muddied the waters, but the hurts of the past shrank to insignificance compared with the happiness and pleasure ahead.

She smiled as she sank back into sleep. All was forgiven. She couldn’t let the past matter when they were on the verge of discovering the once-in-a-lifetime love she was certain was their destiny.

* * *

A chiming sound pulled Elena out of a deep, dreamless sleep. She rolled, automatically reaching for Nick. The pillow where his head had lain was still indented and warm, but that side of the large, voluminous bed was empty.

Moonlight flowed through the window, illuminating the fact that Nick was pulling on clothes with the kind of quick efficiency that denoted he was in a hurry. Silvery light gleamed over one cheekbone and the strong line of his jaw as he glanced at his watch.

The bronzed gleam of broad shoulders and the strong line of his back disappeared as he shrugged into his shirt.

His gaze touched on hers as he buttoned the shirt with quick efficiency. “I have to leave now, otherwise I’ll miss my flight out.”

Elena jackknifed, dragging the sheet with her and wrapping it around her breasts. The memory of Nick explaining his schedule the previous evening flooded back. “The flight to Sydney.”

The side of the bed depressed as he pulled on socks and shoes. “I have a series of business meetings I can’t cancel. They’re important.”

“Of course.” More important than exploring the passion they had found together, or the spellbinding sense that they were on the verge of discovering something special.

She drew an impeded breath and killed the idea of suggesting that, since she lived in Sydney and was due back soon, maybe she could go with him. It was too soon to put that kind of pressure on their relationship.

She needed to remember one of the rules Giorgio had given her about dating: that men liked to feel as if they were the hunter, even if that wasn’t strictly the case.

She forced one of her professional smiles. “Of course. I understand completely.”

His gaze was oddly neutral as he collected his phone from the bedside table and shoved it into his pocket. A trickle of unease made her stomach tighten.

As if he had already distanced himself from what they had done.

Bending, he picked something up from the floor. When he straightened, she recognized the packet of love letters. “I’ll return these.”

“No problem. I’m sure your mother will be relieved to know that Stefano was helping Katherine find her adopted child.”

Another lightning glance at his watch, then Nick leaned across the bed and kissed her, the caress perfunctory. “Thanks. It was...special.”

Elena froze. The awkwardness of the moment expanded when she failed to respond, but she had quite suddenly reached the end of her resources.

She recognized this part. Nick had gotten what he wanted: closure for the scandal that had hurt his family and another night of convenient passion. Now he was trying to step away from any suggestion of a relationship by leaving as quickly as possible.

Her fingers tightened on the beautiful sheets as Nick strode from the room. She heard his step on the stairs, then the sound of the front door quietly closing. A few seconds later, the rumble of the Jeep’s engine broke the stillness of early morning.

She blinked back the burning heat behind her eyes and resolved not to cry. She could see why Nick’s relationships ended so easily. He had concluded a night of passion in the same way he conducted his business affairs: briefly and with his gaze fixed on the next goal.

The full folly of returning to the scene of her last mistake and sleeping with Nick again settled in. Dragging the silk sheet with her, she wrapped it around herself and walked to the freestanding oval mirror. The moonlight was incredibly flattering. She was actually, finally, attractive in the way she had longed to be.

Although that hadn’t seemed to matter to Nick. It hadn’t tipped the balance and made him fall for her.

Which, she realized, was exactly what she had secretly hoped when she had started on the whole process of improving her appearance.

Admitting that pleasing Nick had been her motivation to change was painful, but if she wanted to move on she had to be honest.

She had been stuck in relationship limbo for years. Just when she was on the verge of forming a positive, rewarding romantic friendship with a nice man, she had thrown herself at Nick again.

Hitching the sheet up, she walked to the window and dragged the thick drape of white gauze back. A pale glow in the east indicated that the sun would soon be up. She needed to shower, get dressed and make a plan.

She had made the mistake of allowing Nick to get to her, again.

But the fledgling love affair that had dogged her for six years was finally finished. There would be no replays.

She was finally over Nick Messena.

* * *

Nick grimly suppressed a yawn as he sipped an espresso during his flight to Sydney.

Kyle, who was with him to represent the bank’s interests in the partnership deal he was negotiating with the Atraeus Group, turned a page of his newspaper. “Did you find the ring?”

Nick took another sip of coffee and waited for the caffeine to kick in. “Not yet.”

Briefly he filled Kyle in on the love letters and the adoption papers they had found, and that he had stopped by and spoken to their mother before he had left Dolphin Bay.

That had been a priority. The stark relief on Luisa Messena’s face had told him just how much she had been holding out for the information.

There was a small vibrating silence, which finally broke through the grim flatness that had gripped Nick ever since he had driven away from Dolphin Bay.

Kyle put his newspaper down. “You and Elena looked like you were getting on. Last I heard, she wasn’t returning your calls—”

“We found some common ground.”

“Something’s happened.” Kyle’s gaze had taken on the spooky, penetrating look that was a legacy of his time in the SAS, New Zealand’s Special Forces. Something about Kyle’s calm neutrality inspired respect and actual fear in the high-powered financial magicians he dealt with on a daily basis. When he turned up with the scary eyes the deal usually got done in minutes.

Kyle shook his head. “You slept with her again.”

Nick’s fingers tightened on his coffee cup. “I shouldn’t have confided in you six years ago.”

Kyle shrugged. “Dad had just died. You were understandably emotional.”

Nick finished his coffee and set his cup down on the seat tray with a click. “According to the family, I have the emotions of a block of stone.”

“Whatever. You’ve slept with Elena Lyon twice. That’s...complicated.”

Wrong word,
Nick thought. There had been nothing complicated about what they had done or how he had felt.