Seven Sexy Sins (17 page)

A light frown on his face, he studied her thoughtfully. “That was probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

She shrugged. “You’re easily pleased.” Her eyelids drooped. She’d had a busy day, three glasses of champagne, and a mind-blowing orgasm, and sleep was overtaking her. “You know, I steal one of each flower as we walk through the garden, and I press it, and keep it here.” She tapped her temple. “So I can look at them later, when it’s all over.”

“Don’t let’s talk about it. Not yet.” He looked sad.

She reached out for his hand and linked their fingers. “You’ll still be friends with me, won’t you? I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

“You’ll never lose me, Faith. I promise.”

Satisfied, for now, she let sleep take her, conscious as she did so of the soft stroking of his thumb on her hand.

“I wonder what she’s doing now?” Toby opened his chips and shoved a good half the packet in his mouth at once.

“I have no idea,” said Rusty truthfully, pretending to concentrate on his crossword. He’d suggested to Faith she keep up the pretence that she was meeting Beau that Saturday night to make sure the others weren’t getting suspicious. It had worked, thank God.

“They’re stripping this week, aren’t they?”

“Apparently.” Seven down.
Marvin makes Beaujolais from the fruit of this plant
. Rusty smiled and wrote in
Grapevine
.

Toby chewed thoughtfully. “I bet she’s good at it.”

“Hmm.” Nine across.
American horror actor with a thrilling voice
. He sighed and wrote
Vincent Price
, trying not to think of how she’d laughed when the song had come on.

“Lucky bastard,” said Toby. Rusty looked up, raising an eyebrow. Toby shrugged. “Beau, I mean. Well, you can’t tell me you haven’t thought about doing it. With her.”

“Might have,” said Rusty, lowering his eyes.

“I mean, she’s pretty hot.”

“Yeah.”

“She’s got a great ass.”

“She’s also Dan’s sister.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that she’s got great tits.”

Rusty gave him an exasperated look.

Toby winked at him. “You don’t agree?”

“Faith has very nice breasts. Now shut up.”

“What?” Toby grinned. “I bet she goes like a train.”

“Dude, honestly…” Rusty glared at him.

Toby held his hands up innocently as Dan and Eve joined them at the bar. Eve glanced across, seeing Rusty’s grimace. “What’s going on?”

Rusty pointed at Toby with his pen. “He’s being lewd.”

“Huh. No change there then. What about this time?”

Toby shook his head slightly, alarmed. Rusty shrugged. Serve him right. “He’s speculating what Faith’s up to at this moment.” As Dan glared at Toby, Rusty smirked.

“Nice,” said Dan. “Not a conversation I’m interested in.” He heaved a sigh, his curiosity obviously getting the better of him, in spite of his words. “What’s she doing tonight, anyway?”

“Stripping,” said the rest of them, all together. They all laughed.

Dan sighed. “Well, at least that’s not too kinky.”

Rusty received a vivid image in his head of Faith’s eyes closing in bliss as he did something sinful, and he winced, trying to concentrate on the crossword. Thirteen across.
A feat that demonstrates or tests the strength of a person's convictions, as an important personal sacrifice. Act of…

“What the fuck?” The other three looked over at him and he rolled up the paper and threw it into the bin. Was the universe trying to torture him?

He looked across the bar to the palms waving gently in the breeze outside. What
was
Faith up to? He should have talked her into seeing him again tonight. He wanted to hold her close, touch her, kiss her and make her sigh in that way he was sure only he had ever done. But he also wanted to talk to her, make her laugh. He missed her.

The others had started to talk about some TV show that he didn’t watch. Surreptitiously, he slid his phone out of his pocket, flipped it open and started a new text.

Chapter Sixteen

Faith put her cup of tea on the living room table and curled up on the sofa, thinking over the events of the past week. The evening at the Copthorne had been bittersweet. Although she’d had her little revelation about the fact that she was falling for Rusty, Faith had known she was still going to have to go through with the sins, because if she backed out, he’d know what was going on in her head. And besides, she didn’t want to back out. What she had said was true—he was showing her things about herself she’d never known, and taking her on an exciting journey. She didn’t regret starting the affair—or whatever she should call it. But she was very much going to regret ending it.

Unless… She pulled up her legs, wrapped her arms around them and rested her chin on her knees. Did it have to end? She knew Rusty’s views on long-term relationships, and knew he didn’t intend to settle down, ever. He was scared that if he allowed himself to love someone, he would hurt them terribly, like every other man in his family seemed to do. Of course, it was rubbish. Wasn’t it? He didn’t have a cruel bone in his body. He would make an excellent husband and a wonderful father.

But surely his sister-in-law, his mother and his grandmother had all thought the same thing before they married the other men in his family? They’d all fallen in love, had all thought marriage would be blissful, forever. And they’d all been horribly disappointed. Faith had heard Rusty’s mum, Anna, talk about his dad, Luke, and had been shocked at how vitriolic she’d been. Anna tended to keep her feelings to herself when Rusty was around, but when Faith had asked something about Luke, Anna had not bothered to hide her feelings for the man she’d once loved but now hated with a passion.

Of course, part of the problem in his family was the alcoholism that passed from father to son. All the Thorne men suffered and, when drunk, all of them turned nasty. Faith hadn’t seen it first hand. But Rusty had told her about how his father reacted when under the influence—how he’d once wrecked the house, slammed Cole into the wall, yelled at Rusty until he was in tears, and beaten Anna almost senseless, driven mad by some unprovoked fit of jealousy that he couldn’t even remember in the morning.

She knew Rusty saw alcohol as an evil demon, a kind of malevolent spirit that possessed the Thorne men when they drank. He never talked about it in front of his friends, and never seemed to mind if they drank, because he obviously only saw it as a family problem. Faith could understand that, because when Dan got drunk he became incredibly funny, Toby just tended to go to sleep, Eve got giggly, and Faith herself, well, it just made her want to dance.

But Rusty had never let himself have a drink, so none of them—including him—had any idea what he was like when he was drunk. He was terrified it would transform him into a monster, like Dr. Jekyll drinking the potion. He was so scared of turning into Hyde that he wouldn’t go near alcohol, and she couldn’t blame him for that, even though somehow she couldn’t imagine him turning nasty.

But it didn’t make sense that he’d decided he was too dangerous to let himself ever get close to a woman. Even if alcohol did change him, he never drank, so where was the danger? She knew it went deeper than that, though. He’d seen all the men in his family hurt their women—had seen his grandmother, mother, aunt and sister-in-law cry because of what the Thorne men had done to them. And sweet, gorgeous, honest, loyal Rusty couldn’t bear to let himself ever get in a position where he might do something so terrible to someone he loved.

Of course, he didn’t realise he was doing that to every girl he went out with who wanted to continue to see him. Or maybe he did, but thought it couldn’t possibly hurt them as much after half a dozen dates as it would if he was horrible to them after a long-term relationship. During one of their late-night sessions around the pool, he’d once announced he wished he could be a monk. They’d all burst out laughing at the thought of Rusty being celibate, but Faith could still remember the serious look that had appeared on his face before he, too, had started to smile. He’d meant it—he didn’t
want
to want women. He wished he didn’t have physical urges. It was just unfortunate he had a sex drive that could power a rocket to the moon and back.

One day, she knew, someone would convince him to have a real relationship. A woman would come along who he felt strongly enough about, a woman who would be able to persuade him that she was worth the risk.

But was that woman her?

At that moment, her phone sang in her handbag, letting her know a text had arrived. She flipped it open. Rusty’s number was at the top. How ironic. She felt herself blush, as if somehow he’d picked up she’d been thinking of him. What was wrong with her? How could she be blushing when he was a mile away?

She read the text, her heart thumping.
What r u up 2? Has Beau left yet?

Smiling, she sent back:
Yeah, he’s gone. Miss him :(

A minute later, another text came through.
He misses u 2. Want 2 meet up?

She returned:
That’s not in his contract.

After a couple of minutes, as if he was thinking what to say, he replied:
It’s Rusty asking, not Beau.

She gave a short laugh. She shouldn’t see him. She was only making it harder on herself. But that thought kept ringing through her head, as if it were one of those bells above a shop door. Was that woman her? And his words,
He misses u 2,
gave her hope.

She texted back.
Lol. That’s ok then. Stone Store, 10 mins?
She started getting ready—took off her trackpants, slipped on her jeans, brushed her hair and put on a slick of lipgloss, in anticipation of his reply.

Beau’s jealous. But Rusty will b there. C u then.

Laughing, she clicked the phone shut and headed for the door.

When she got there, his car was already in the car park of the Pear Tree, the lovely bar and restaurant that overlooked the Kerikeri inlet. She parked next to him and walked past the small wishing well to the Stone Store, the oldest stone building in New Zealand. He sat on the steps to the Store and watched her as she walked up to him, a small smile on his face.

“Hey,” she said, perching beside him.

He shifted aside a little to make room. “Hey.” He wore his usual tight black jeans and black shirt, sleeves rolled up. His hair was getting long and needed cutting, and it curled around his ears and neck. He ran his hand through it. “I look scruffy, I know.”

“Yeah.” She met his gaze, seeing something lurking in his green eyes. “What’s up?”

He shrugged and picked at some mud on the knee of his jeans. “Nothing. Just wanted to see you, that’s all.”

She didn’t say anything. But she nudged him with her elbow. He nudged her back, and they laughed.

“Wanna Coke?” she asked, nodding toward the Pear Tree.

“Sure.”

They stood and walked across the road. It was about seven o’clock, and daylight was starting to fade. The weather was warm and humid, the cicadas calling in the bush surrounding the inlet, and Faith felt a trickle of sweat run between her breasts. They didn’t hold hands—she was with Rusty, after all, not Beau, but still she felt a little zing of electricity as he brushed his arm against hers, enough of a zing to send yet another flush to her cheeks.

The bar was stuffy, so they bought a drink and made their way out the back to the grassy bank overlooking the inlet. There were no free tables, so they sat on the grass under an oak tree, Faith cross-legged, Rusty with his long legs stretched out, leaning back against the trunk. He looked melancholic, although he smiled when she winked at him.

“I’ve been reading a great book on women in Anglo-Saxon England,” she said.

“Oh?” His eyes lit up.

She proceeded to tell him what she’d learned. She knew he’d interject with his own facts and wanted to see him glow, as he always did when he was talking about history. He didn’t disappoint her, and was soon telling her about Sutton Hoo and West Stow and pottery techniques. She listened, glad to be able to study him as she did so, pleased to make him happy.

“You haven’t got a clue what I’m talking about, have you?” he said eventually.

“I do so! Sutton Hoo. King Raedwald. No skeletal remains present, probably because of the acidic soil.”

He laughed. “I stand corrected.”

“I like history. And I like listening to you talk about it. You don’t bore me.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

She smiled. She liked being back with her old friend Rusty again. For the moment, there was no sign of the man who’d driven her wild in bed, no heat in his eyes. He looked across at her, met her gaze and held it for a while.

“We’ll still be able to do this afterward, won’t we?”

“Do what?”

“Talk like this. It’s not going to be odd?”

She broke her gaze away and looked across the inlet. Some teenagers were making their way across the rocks, the girls giggling, the guys showing off. Ten-to-one several of them would be in the water before they reached the other side.

His talk about the ending of their affair depressed her. She was stupid to think she’d be the one to change his mind on long-term relationships. How should she answer him? She knew what the truthful answer would be. That of
course
it would be odd, because she’d have to watch him bring other girls into the bar, his arm draped casually around their shoulders, as she’d seen him do before so many times. He might even kiss them in front of her, the thought of which made her heart stutter in her chest and her throat tighten painfully. How would she feel on seeing he’d given a new girlfriend a hickey, thinking of him thrusting into her from behind, murmuring she was the best he’d ever had as he fastened his warm mouth on her neck? It made her feel sick.

Her fingers tightened in the grass, but she made them relax. She sipped her wine and gave him a smile. “Of course we’ll still be able to talk.”

He nodded, but she wasn’t sure she’d convinced him. She didn’t want to talk about it anymore—she’d start crying, she was sure. Instead, she changed the subject again and asked him about the upcoming ERO inspection at the school, getting him to tell her about what schemes of work he needed to prepare, and he didn’t mention the matter again. They talked for an hour as the sun gradually set, and eventually the grass grew cool on her legs. Regretfully she said she ought to think about going home.