Resisting Nick (Wicked in Wellington) (22 page)

“Nothing like her at all,” Sammie whispered once he was wedged deep.

“Then come to dinner. Meet Bonnie and Mike. He’s one of the other guys coming on the fishing trip.” He reached up and cupped her face. Groaned as he drew her close and took her lips in a deep searching kiss.
 

How could she not know she was special to him?
 

That he wanted her to stay? And let him love her?

“BodyWork Fitness, Samantha speaking.” She adjusted her position in the formerly comfortable chair, wincing at the slight aches and twinges from their lunchtime lust before transferring the caller.

The massage session had escalated into a war where neither of them held back. Nick’s attempts to dominate had made her fiercely determined he’d lose his control before she gave up hers.
 

Now there were long savage scratches on his back and shoulders.

Love-bites on her breasts.

Whisker-burn all over her belly.
 

In their intense and desperate grappling, she’d opened herself to every emotion—had thrilled at the depth of passion they’d shared, at the trust she’d dared to give him, at the care he’d taken of her in return.
 

Never, never, had she allowed herself to indulge so totally. And from the shocked expression on Nick’s face, she wondered if it was the same for him, too.
 

She had to commit to leaving before it was too late, before she was trapped.
 

Her fingers danced over the keyboard as she Googled round-the-world airfares yet again, and she bit her bottom lip as she scanned all the different options. Should she confirm her whole itinerary—or maybe only the first flight out of New Zealand? To Sydney again as a starting point? She’d loved it there. Wanted more time than the rushed couple of days she’d shared with Nick. If she made this first booking, her fate would be sealed. She’d stay one more week with him and that was all. She navigated to the Air New Zealand site, and with a heavy heart, booked a seat for the following Saturday.

The phone buzzed again.

“BodyWork Fitness, Samantha speaking.”

“Just the girl I wanted,” Evan Greerson’s unwelcome voice rasped.
 

Sammie screwed up her nose with distaste. Music screamed in the background, drowning the sound of the sea.
 

“Sorry to bother you, darl, but young Brendan’s done something stupid. Can you bring us out another copy of the plans today—the silly kid’s let several of ours fly over the cliff in the wind.”

“Can’t you get them back?” She knew her voice was sharp, but she really didn’t need this spoiling her day.

“Tried that, but the moment he went over the edge after them the wind got up again and took’em right out into the water.”

She sighed with bad grace. “I’ll have to photocopy Nick’s, then.”

“Yeah, I’m on the point of buying more timber and I need to double-check some lengths. Don’t want to spend too much of your boss’s money.”

She just bet he was worried about that! “Forty-five minutes or so, then?”

“Good girl.” The phone went dead.

Why did the man rub her up the wrong way all the time? It was perfectly possible the big sheets of paper had flown away in the updraft off the cliff, but...
 

Damn Nick for going out at just the wrong time, or he could have taken them and had another look at the building progress. She tried his mobile. Off. Left a text anyway, in case he picked it up in the next few minutes. And went to his office to locate the grey document tube.

Nick cursed as he checked his phone after leaving the law office. GONE 2 SITE W NEW PLANS. Why? When? Her message was timed almost half an hour ago. He punched up her pre-set. No answer. She was already on the road? Snarling, he fired up his car and shot across the city, keeping a close eye out for cops.

There was no sign of her little hatchback along the way. Uneasy with the thought of her and Evan Greerson together, he pushed the speed limit hard when he could, and hit the farm road with a squeal of tires and a cloud of dust. Although desperate to know what was going on, something made him approach the house with stealth. He slid quietly around the bends of the rough road, throttling back when he’d much rather have roared along.

At the far end of the overgrown tunnel, he spotted her car and Evan’s van. No sign of Brendan’s old pick-up truck though. The hairs rose on the back of his neck and a flood of unholy anger surged through every vein. He stopped just before the cattle-stop bars, pulled the brake on, flung his door open, and sprinted for the house. What was going on?

Music pounded all around—an old eighties group at full volume—but he heard no hammering, no power tools or any other kind of construction noise.
 

His pulse kicked up and adrenaline surged.
 

Sammie flattened herself against the old front door. Out of sight of the builder’s piercing eyes, her fingers scrabbled for the handle.
 

Damn, damn, damn. Locked.

Given the house had stood deserted for many years and half the windows were broken, she hadn’t expected that. Thought she could simply slip out and make a run for her car.

A hot tide of nausea sloshed around in her belly. Then the unease crept up her spine and raised the hairs on the back of her neck. Was this what a cat bailed up by a huge slavering dog felt like? Surely, surely, he wasn’t serious?
 

The music pounded—so loud that if she screamed for help, no-one would hear. She’d passed a couple of the farm staff at least a mile away as she turned in off the main road, so they were way out of reach anyway.

She clenched her teeth and planted her feet more firmly on the timber planking, thankful she’d changed out of her heels and into the old flatties she kept in her car for driving. Even if she’d lost the advantage of height she might now have the bonus of speed. But God, her knees were shaky.

Evan stood, feet in scarred muddy boots, leg muscles tensed, a gloating grin on his ginger-stubbled face. The light from the uncurtained windows showed her exactly how tall and broad and strong his big body was, and lit up his long arms barring her way.

“Kitty, kitty, kitty.”

Saliva pooled under her tongue, and she swallowed, feeling the slimy wetness slide down her throat to join the panic roiling not far below.

Nick bent low and raced past a couple of windows to reach the old back door. It was chocked open with a metal toolbox, and he stepped inside, trying again to listen past the music.

‘Baby you’re the best, the best...’
 

Dread spiked its sharp teeth into him.
 

How had Evan persuaded her out here? What the hell was she really doing? And why? He’d been careful to warn her off—didn’t his advice count for anything?

‘Baby I’m a-leaving the rest...’
 

He navigated through the disgusting old kitchen, now incongruously featuring a battered microwave oven plugged into a trailing construction cable. Past the once-grand dining room, and with caution into the main hallway.
 

‘Baby you’re my girl, mind is in a whirl...’

To his huge relief he saw Sammie silhouetted against the fancy leadlight panel of the front door, hands flattened against the timber. Light danced and dazzled off the facets of glass.

‘Baby you’re the ever-lovin’ best...’
 

Evan Greerson faced her, arms extended across the long passage, dodging and feinting like a basketball player to cut off her exit to the open back door.
 

Fury lit a trail of fire through Nick’s whole body. The words of the inane old pop-song went away. Sammie was all his brain could register. If the builder had had his hands on her, he’d be dead.
 

He couldn’t tell if she knew he’d arrived or not. Had to presume she did because she faced in his direction, but against the light, she was just a shape. A small, fragile womanly shape, hopefully not alerting Evan that help was approaching fast.

Unholy anger coursed through him, and he stormed along the ancient floor, mind ice-cold, feet making very little sound over the music. He raised an arm and swung his fist at full force into the side of the builder’s head.

CHAPTER TWENTY

The big man staggered against the wall and then hit the floor with a bone-crunching thump. Nick reached over with the hand that wasn’t now throbbing like a bitch and grabbed Sammie, pulled her past the sprawling, groaning pervert, and hauled her out of the house.

“What the fuck were you doing here?” he demanded, dragging her along in the salty air. Without waiting for a reply, added, “Did he hurt you?”

She shook her head, all huge eyes and paper-white skin.

“Can you drive?”

“Yes!” She lurched along beside him until they reached her car. He bundled her in and waited until she’d fired up the engine.

“Pull over onto the shoulder of the main road as soon as it’s safe.” He slammed her door and ran for his Ferrari.
 

A few minutes later he swerved in behind Sammie’s little hatch and braked. He leaped out with scant regard for his own safely, squeezed his tall frame in beside her, and cradled her face in his hands. Her pupils were still huge, and she’d wrapped her arms tightly around herself as though she was freezing.
 

“Bastard!” he ground out, hoping she’d soon relax and curl those tense arms around him instead.

“I’m fine.”

His veins ran white-hot with wrath. “And if I hadn’t arrived?”

“I don’t think...he’d have done anything.”

“But you don’t know for sure.”

“He was only sort of flirting.”

Nick wasn’t having any of that. He stroked his thumbs down her cheeks and growled—a deep enraged rumble of fury and possession. “Getting you out to a deserted house? Making sure Brendan wasn’t there? Bailing you up like a bird in a cage?”

She hitched a shoulder. Then two fat tears brimmed over and escaped to slide down her cheeks as far as his thumbs. Her frightened eyes squeezed closed. “Thank you,” she whispered, reaching a tentative hand in his direction.
 

He grabbed it and pulled her close. “You need looking after.”

“No I don’t.”

Still being brave even when you’re scared stiff?

“I’m not happy about you traveling alone.” He kissed the tip of her nose as something twisted and swelled deep inside his ribs. Right where his heart would be if he had one.

Sammie flicked her eyes open and sought his. “I’ve had to depend on myself for years. Don’t worry—I’ll be fine.”
 

And what if I don’t want you to go?
 

He hid his concern behind a pithy inquiry. “So why the hell did you come out to the house?”

“I’m not stupid, Nick. Evan rang and said some of the plans had blown over the cliff and he needed duplicates. And he might have done—how could I know for sure? You were at the law office and not answering.” She drew a sudden sharp breath and her eyes went round as marbles. “What if you’ve killed him?”

Nick pulled her closer and tucked her head in under his chin. “No chance of that. He was still making plenty of noise.” He drew his bruised hand away from Sammie’s face and flexed it experimentally. Bright drops of blood seeped from a couple of small splits.

“Nicky!”

“It’ll heal.”

She looked far from convinced, and ran gentle fingers over it. “And your house? What if he vandalizes the place?”

“Hopefully he didn’t see it was me.”

She pulled the corners of her mouth down and shot him a disbelieving look. “So who else?”

Nick shrugged and grinned. “Face that one when we come to it, eh? Building contracts aren’t too easy to come by in the current economic situation, and mine’s a big job with reasonable money attached.”

“He could do a lot of damage.”

“Let’s hope he can see he behaved like an animal and knuckles down and does some work instead.” He changed the subject abruptly, hoping she’d leave it alone. “So did we confirm dinner at Bonnie’s tomorrow?”

He watched as she considered his invitation. Curiosity, pleasure, and indecision flitted across her still-pale face.

“If she really wants me,” she finally said.

“Good. I’ll follow you back to town.”

She sent him a small grin at that. “You’ll be obeying the speed limit then.”

“Yeah, yeah—anything for you, Ms. Law-abiding.”

On Friday night, Sammie changed out of her work clothes and into a short emerald green dress, bronzy high-heeled sandals, and Grandma’s very old, very beautiful gold link necklace with the enameled butterfly pendant. She brushed on peachy blusher and made up her eyes with care, wondering if tonight she’d find the courage to tell Nick she’d booked her flight out.

When he collected her, his inspection started at her frosted apricot toenails, progressed leisurely up her legs, and stopped for a while on her flirty skirt. His slow smile broadened as he raised his head to appreciate her smoky eyes and newly streaked hair. Everywhere his gaze rested her skin sparked with sensation, as though a warm breeze had just whispered by. It was like being eaten alive. Yet again.
 

“You look too good to share with a guy who’s younger than me,” he said. “And far too good to share with his mother.” He pulled the apartment door closed behind her and tucked her hand into the crook of his arm as though she might need support in her precarious heels.
 

“And you look like a hottie worth making the effort for,” she teased, tilting her face up for a hello kiss as they waited for the elevator. She slid her hands around his hips and squeezed his gorgeous butt. “I’m going to miss you over the weekend.”

“But you’re doing things of your own?”

“Visiting Ray and Anita so the boys can show me their new puppy, catching up on my grandmother’s old diaries...going to a sexy underwear sales evening...”

She waited a beat as he sorted the sex from the family stuff.