She Who Dares (9 page)

‘Yes it is!’ Nic shouted after him, her eyes blurring. ‘Where are you going?’

‘Home,’ came the angry reply. He stopped just as he reached the exit and turned to face her, hands on hips. ‘For what it’s worth, which is clearly sod all as far as you’re concerned, I’ve spent most of today nursing a hard on because I can’t stop thinking about your tits. So don’t give me any crap about not being attractive enough.’

He disappeared into the darkness, leaving Nic alone in the workshop, with nothing but her tools and her fears and one whopper of a question.

Where the hell did they go from here?

Sebastian went home. He was half a mile down the road before he realised he was walking, by which time it was too late to go back to the garage for his bike. Plus, if he went back he’d have to deal with Nic, and he didn’t have a firm enough grip on his emotions yet. He’d never had to work to hold them in check, never. Even when he’d been kicked out of the team, he’d barely felt anything.

Now he was feeling everything way too much. The primary emotion was a roaring frustration directed straight at Nic. He’d had a fantastic day today, better than he’d had in a long time. True, a day that started with a Ferrari Dino was never going to be classed as bad, but it had taken an almighty leap into brilliant. He’d thought of nothing all day but the car he was working on and the woman he was working with, and for the first time in weeks his mind had been quiet.

He hadn’t been lying when he said she turned him on, either, and he’d enjoyed feeling the heat in his groin, the rush of anticipation, of wondering what if. Right up until the point where she’d smacked him down with some crap about not being as pretty as Ella. What was it with women? Why did they have to make everything so damn complicated?

The sky soared high and pink overhead, the light rapidly diminishing as he reached the mansion. Silent road gave way to the loud crunch of the gravel driveway, and Sebastian rounded the curve that brought his house into view. The low-slung gabled roof dominated, the thick stonework built to withstand a Cornish winter. Looking at the outside, you’d never guess that the inside had been designed for stripper Barbie.

He didn’t regret his time with Ella. Nic was right in one respect. Her sister was extremely beautiful. They’d also had about as much in common as a machine gun and a marshmallow, not that his hormones had cared about that at the time.

He jogged up the steps that led to the front door, fumbled in his pocket for the keys, then let himself in. The alarm system began its irritating yap, and he flipped it the finger before jabbing in the code to shut it up. As the heavy front door eased shut behind him, Sebastian decided that what he regretted most about tonight was that he hadn’t ignored all Nic’s protests and kissed her anyway.

Regret sat heavy on his shoulders as he made his way to the back of the house, flicking on the lights as he went. First port of call was the fridge, and he pulled out the milk and took a deep mouthful, straight from the bottle. It ran cool and sweet down his throat.

Grabbing a handful of Jelly Babies from the open packet in the salad drawer, Sebastian slammed the fridge door shut and tossed one into his mouth.

Look at you,
whispered a little voice inside his head.
Kicked out of the team.

Rattling around in a rented house. A pink rented house. You haven’t had a girlfriend in a year. No wonder she doesn’t want you. Loser.

Milk splashed over his hand and decorated the polished black granite worktop as he slammed the bottle down. He hated this house. It served a purpose, that was all. But he was not a bloody loser, and Nic Sinclair was going to like him whether she wanted to or not. So he wasn’t racing right now, so what? He soon would be. All his wins didn’t disappear from the history books just because he took a few weeks off.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and selected the number he wanted. A red jelly baby kept him busy as he waited for someone to pick up.

Lying on the sofa, Nic reached for the remote and turned up the volume on the TV. Week six of
America’s Next Top Model
and things were starting to get bitchy. The last thing she wanted to do right now was answer the phone, but the blasted thing would not stop ringing.

With a groan, she set the half eaten box of Frosties down on the floor, heaved herself off the sofa and picked up her phone from its position on the magazine stack she used as a side table. Right on cue, it started to vibrate in her hand. She checked the number, felt her pulse kick.

‘What’s up, Sebastian?’

‘I want to see you.’ His voice came hard and fast and angry.

‘Excuse me?’

‘I want to see you,’ he said again. ‘Get over here.’

Nic felt her entire body go rigid. She rubbed a hand over her face, trying to work out what to say. She was tired and sore and should be in bed. No part of her should be tingling at the prospect of seeing him. ‘It’s late,’ she said finally. ‘Can’t it wait?’

‘No, it damn well can’t wait!’ She could hear the frustration rise in his voice. ‘We need to talk.’

‘We already talked,’ she told him straight, picking up the remote and pressing the mute button. ‘We have an agreement.’

A sound like an explosion came over the phone. ‘Stop making excuses. You want me. I want you. We need to do something about it.’

Nic dropped back on to the sofa, her knees wobbly. He hadn’t just got near the line, he’d sprinted across it. ‘Have you been drinking?’

‘No, I haven’t. I’ve been thinking, which apparently is even more dangerous. I’ve called you a taxi.’

‘What for?’

‘You’re coming over here, and we’re going to sort this out.’

Right on cue, a horn sounded outside. Spinning round on the sofa, Nic kneeled on the cushions, leaned over the back and twitched the curtain. Sure enough, there was a Mondeo with the words ‘A1 Taxis’ and a phone number plastered over the driver door. The driver beeped the horn again.

‘I’ve told him to sit there beeping the horn all night if necessary,’ Sebastian told her. ‘So you better get your arse over here.’

Nic thought of all the ways she could get out of this, calling the police being number one on her list. Instead, she turned off the TV. She stuffed her feet into her uggs, pushed her arms into a zip -up top and went outside to do none of them.

The taxi deposited her outside Sebastian’s house ten minutes later. ‘It’s on account’, the driver said when she fished a ten pound note out of her purse and held it out to him with fingers that weren’t quite steady. She left it on the backseat anyway, not wanting to owe Sebastian anything.

This was crazy. Why was she here? Why hadn’t she told the taxi to go, then turned off her phone and gone to bed? Between the floodlights and the moon it could well have been daytime, and the house loomed in front of her, so wide that she could barely see anything but stone. The pointy roof and massive front entrance made it look like something from a movie set. She half expected someone to shout ‘action’ any moment.

The door opened, and Sebastian jogged down the steps. He’d swapped the jeans he’d been wearing earlier for low slung blue shorts, with what looked like the waistband of a pair of Speedos underneath. His feet were bare; his chest partially hidden by the white towel draped over one wide shoulder.

Nic swallowed. The thought of Sebastian in a pair of budgie smugglers was too much to take. ‘Right,’ she said, burying her hands in the pockets of her hoodie. ‘I’m here, and so is my arse. Against my better judgement, I hasten to add.’

‘Good.’ He stepped forward, took her arm. ‘Come on.’

‘Can’t we discuss it here?’

He pulled her up the steps and into the house. ‘Nope.’

Nic shook him off. ‘What is this, Sebastian? I thought we’d sorted everything.’

‘Did you?’

Those bright green eyes locked on to hers. She saw smoke in their depths, and her mouth went dry. ‘Maybe not,’ she admitted. ‘But I don’t see why it’s important.’

‘I’m attracted to you,’ he told her. ‘You’re attracted to me. We’re both single, healthy adults and there’s no reason why we shouldn’t do what we both want to.’

‘Yes, there is. There’s every reason.’ Nic snapped at him, yanking her arm free. ‘You don’t know anything about me or my life, Sebastian. Don’t act like you do.’ Emotion boiled up inside her, ten years’ worth and then some, and it was so hard to keep it in. But she did it. ‘Not all of us can go around doing whatever we want. Some of us have responsibilities.’

‘So tell me,’ he said, and his voice was so gentle that she stopped in surprise.

‘What is this? An episode of Oprah? What do you want from me?’

‘Apart from the obvious?’ He shrugged, resting one tanned hand on the towel. ‘I just want to know what makes you tick.’

‘Did you give Ella the third degree, too?’ It was as if all her memories had turned into rocks and were pounding her on the head.

‘This is not about Ella. This is about you.’

‘It’s never about me,’ Nic retorted. ‘It’s always about Ella. Ooh, is that your stepsister? Isn’t she pretty? Has she got a boyfriend? Can I have her number?’ And because it suited her to make it all about Ella, she silently acknowledged. That way, she didn’t have to face the real problem.

Sebastian snorted. ‘You’ve got to be kidding.’

‘You’ve no idea what it’s like!’ Nic was on a roll now. ‘No idea at all. I was thirteen when my mum married her dad and I got landed with a stepsister. And not just an ordinary stepsister. No. A living, breathing Barbie doll.’

‘Looks aren’t everything,’ he said. ‘And anyway, you weren’t exactly whacked with the ugly stick.’

‘You didn’t see me at thirteen.’ When all the other girls had been rushing headfirst into puberty, and she’d still been stuck at the ‘tween phase, where she’d stay until she was fifteen. She’d lied about starting her periods, and the other girls had bought it, but that hadn’t stopped the hideous inadequacy taking over. It hadn’t helped her, when she’d been alone in her bedroom with one of her stepdad’s razors, stolen from the bathroom cabinet. It hadn’t stopped her from making stupid choices.

‘No,’ he said quietly. ‘But I’m seeing you now.’

‘Yeah, well. You saw me last night,’ Nic heard herself shout. Why was she shouting? She never shouted. But god, it felt good. She wanted to do it some more. ‘And then you ran away. You took one look at me and you ran away. It’s not even like I was naked.’ She clapped her hands over her mouth, her stomach in freefall. Why had she said that?

‘Ah,’ Sebastian said, sounding very pleased with himself. ‘And there we have it. You’re hacked off because I didn’t do you right there and then, despite the fact that we’d just spent four hours in A and E. You like me, Nic Sinclair. You want me. Admit it.’

‘Don’t you patronise me, you smug bastard!’ She had to get away from him, get out of here. Too many memories, too many emotions were boiling up now. She felt like a bomb about to go off. ‘You’re so damn perfect. I bet no-one ever bullied you in school. You were never named the one least likely to lose their virginity. You didn’t have to stuff your bra until you were fifteen, or carry Tampax around just so you could pretend you were having periods.’

Sebastian scratched the back of his neck, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. ‘Can’t say I did, no.’

‘Stop laughing at me!’ Her hands shot up and towards him. He grabbed her wrists and held her still.

His face moved close to hers. So close she could feel his breath on her cheek. Sweet, fruity, warm. ‘I’m not laughing,’ he whispered. ‘I’m smiling. You’re incredibly pretty when you let go, did you know that?’

Nic turned her head away, refusing to look at him, her heart thundering. ‘Stop it.’

He lowered her hands to her sides, forcing her to stand closer to him. ‘Tell me you want me.’

‘I…’

‘Say it.’

She blinked rapidly. ‘Please don’t make me do this.’

He released one wrist, stroked the side of her face, her jaw, his hand coming to rest on the nape of her neck. He was so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath against her lips. She stole a little of his air, and it was sweet, like strawberries. ‘I really hated Ella for getting you,’ she whispered.

She’d kept that secret buried inside her like a little vial of poison. Despising herself for thinking it, but unable to let it go. But now that she had, it felt like release. Her knees trembled.

‘Why?’ he asked.

‘Because Ella just walked into a bar and flicked her hair and you were hers. She didn’t even have to try.’ Nic gave a painful laugh. ‘She pulled a pro-driver at a car show and she doesn’t even like cars.’

She waited for him to say something, but he didn’t. He just stood there and stared at her, his hand warm on her neck, his naked torso devastatingly close. Nic blinked hard and fast, desperately trying to keep it together. She didn’t know why she was here. She didn’t know why she was spilling her secrets to this man, or why he cared.

‘Feel better?’ he murmured, and strangely she did. It was like she’d been wearing clothes several sizes too small and they’d been cut away by her confession. And with that gone, all she could see was Sebastian, not Ella’s ex, but the man who’d walked into her life two short days ago and already turned everything upside down.

She shouldn’t do this, but oh, she wanted to so very, very much. Her body softened in response to his nearness, and she found herself powerless to stop it. The urge to uncurl her hand and touch the dark hair dusting his belly was fierce and frightening. His warmth, the way he smelled, the soft sound of his breathing did something to her. He was so big and hard and male, and more than that, so vitally alive. The same madness that had gripped her in the garage the other morning started to take over her head, and she found herself staring at his mouth.

But the same sharp little doubts scratched at her insides.

‘Go on,’ he whispered. ‘I want you to.’

‘We can’t do this,’ Nic told him as he slid a warm hand across her cheek. ‘We can’t.’

‘We can do whatever we damn well like.’

She felt shaky and excited, not quite knowing what was about to happen, only that she wanted it to, but at the same time terrified that she couldn’t handle what lay ahead. ‘I didn’t come here for this.’