Summer Fling (17 page)

“You want a drink?” Ian asked as Garth took
a seat at the white table on the deck.

“Nah, I’m good. What’s all this about?”

Ian pulled the manila file toward him, but
didn’t open it for a moment. Garth looked at the label, seeing his own name in
black print. In there lay all the information Ian had unearthed since Garth had
hired him on his return to New Zealand. Nick Stewart’s life history—from what
schools he’d attended to his financial statements to receipts for clothes
purchases.

“I found an old school friend of Stewart’s,
Rory Davis. I thought he’d moved to the UK, but it turned out he’d come back
and was living in Dunedin. He’s been there a couple of years, says it’s a nice
place, and—”

“Ian. Spit it out man.”

Ian cleared his throat. “You’re not going
to like it.”

Garth said nothing. A sick feeling of dread
pooled in his stomach.

Ian leaned forward. “Rory remembers
visiting Stewart’s house on the ninth of May, back in 2008. He remembers
because it was Stewart’s twenty-first birthday, and Rory was in the area and
thought he’d drop by to wish the guy happy birthday. He called in at his house,
but didn’t get a reply when he knocked on the door, so he went around the back.
Unfortunately, he found Stewart
in flagrante delicto
with a woman on the
sofa. They all laughed it off, and he wished Stewart happy birthday and left.”

Garth’s head buzzed. “Are you saying…”

“He identified Jess from a photo.”

“But… I wasn’t captured until August 2008.”

“I know.” Ian looked away.

Garth stared at him. “She was having an
affair with him before I went to Afghanistan?”

Pity filled Ian’s face. “It looks that
way.”

Garth pushed himself back from the table,
rose, and walked down the grass. He stood in the middle of the garden, his head
spinning.

Soft footsteps sounded behind him. “Garth?
Are you okay? I’m sorry.”

He jammed his hands into the pockets of his
shorts and shook his head. “I don’t believe it.” Except he did believe it. That
was why it hurt so much.

“You never suspected?”

“No.” Garth closed his eyes. “I knew she’d
been unfaithful before, but I never realized she’d been with him so long…”  He
clenched his jaw as he opened his eyes and looked across at Ian. Strange how
the two of them had so little in common and probably wouldn’t have been friends
if they’d met elsewhere, but Ian knew more about Garth’s troubles than even Mat
did.

Ian frowned. “I’m sorry.”

Garth laughed wryly. “All that time in
prison, I dreamed of Jess and how I’d make things better between us when I came
out. That’s what kept me going.”

“I know.”

Garth tightened his hands into fists. “She
told me she started seeing Stewart because she was lonely. Because she thought
she’d never see me again, and she couldn’t cope on her own.”

“Yeah. That sucks.”

Garth shook his head. She must have been
laughing behind his back. And as for Stewart… Bile rose in his throat.

“You still going ahead with the plan?” Ian
asked.

“Absolutely.”

“Are you all set?”

“Pretty much. Should be good to go by the
end of the week.” He gathered his wits. Ian had done his job and passed on the
news. There was no point in hanging around. “Okay, I’ll be off.”

The gruff Ian rested a hand on his
shoulder. “You going to be all right?”

“Yeah. I’m heading for home now.”

“I’ll be in touch.”

“Thanks, mate.”

He walked back to his car and got in, drove
through the town, and parked outside the chemist.

Unclipping his seatbelt, he turned in the
seat. On the opposite side of the road, the sign for Cocoa Heaven hanging
outside the building swung in the light summer breeze.

The shop was shut, the interior dark. Garth
had to stop himself from walking across, smashing in the windows, and setting
light to the place. He’d get his revenge, but he’d do it properly, legally.
Only a few more days and Stewart would be finished.

He closed his eyes and let his head fall
back against the window. He longed for it to be over. Anger and hate and hurt
had carved him up for so long, he wasn’t sure he could remember what it felt
like to be normal.

The car walls seemed to close in on him,
the roof pressing down. He opened the door and got out, locked it, and walked
the short distance to the main road. He crossed it, barely seeing the traffic,
then jumped down the small bank onto the beach. Kicking off his shoes, he let
his toes sink into the sand.

He tilted his head up to look at the sky.

Cloudless. Bright blue. The color of
Chloe’s eyes.

Chloe.

The memory of her filled him like cool,
fresh water poured into a vessel, cleansing him, washing him free of all the
negativity. The way she’d made love to him had lifted him free of his past,
even if it had been temporary.

Had he lost her?

He closed his eyes. She’d sent him away—not
because she didn’t feel anything for him, but because she did. She thought her
feelings had formed too quickly, and therefore they couldn’t possibly be real.

Could she be right? He felt more for her
than a passing affection. His emotions were condensed, concentrated, but he’d
put that down to the fact that he hadn’t slept with anyone for ages, and he’d
been starved for love. Then he thought back to the moment on the plane when
she’d nestled in the circle of his arms and looked up at him, and the world had
stopped turning. No other girl had made him feel like that. Chloe was
special—his feelings for her were special.

Still, she had her own demons to fight,
what with the bastard and her mother. Maybe she’d never allow herself to give
into her feelings. Should he continue to pursue her if ultimately it would end
badly? The last thing he needed at the moment was another heartbreak.

He opened his eyes and started walking
slowly up the beach. Perhaps he should wait until the business with Stewart was
sorted, give her a few days’ peace. When he was finally free, he could approach
her with a clear heart and soul. He could give her everything. Maybe then he’d
convince her he’d be worth the risk.

On Monday, Chloe’s meeting with the bank
manager went swimmingly. She showed him the figures she’d worked out, and he
agreed a small business loan would be the best way to go ahead. The only
problem was collateral. She had to put something down as security, but
unfortunately she rented her house rather than owning it.

“Let me think about it,” she told him. And
since then she’d done nothing but, and she’d still failed to find an answer.

“What about asking Nina?” suggested Stella
that evening. “Perhaps she’d offer her house as security.”

“Oh, I couldn’t do that.”

“She’d say yes, wouldn’t she?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

Stella looked cagey. “What about asking
Garth? I’m sure he’d lend you the money?”

Chloe smiled wryly. “I don’t think so.
There’s no way I’m ever going to mix romance and business again.”

“He’s not Ethan.”

“True, but I’m not going there. I’ll find
another way. And anyway, I might never see him again. He hasn’t tried to
contact me.” Sadness swept over her. She’d gone to work wondering if maybe he’d
found out the name of the factory in Whangarei and would try to contact her,
but she’d heard nothing all day.

Stella sighed. “You look tense.”

“I am tense.”

“You know what you need?”

Chloe just looked at her.

Stella tipped her head, exasperated. “I was
going to say a bath. Go and have a soak for half an hour. Then we’ll have a drink
or three and watch
Bridget Jones
or something.”

Chloe laughed. Their ultimate feel good
movie. “Vodka and Chaka Khan?”

“You betcha.”

“Yeah, all right.”

She went upstairs and turned the bath taps
on, trying not to think about the steamy shower room at Garth’s place and the
way he’d soaped her body with his large, gentle hands. In her bedroom, she undressed,
pinned up her hair and slipped on a bathrobe before going back into the
bathroom. She turned off the taps and swooshed some bath foam around to make
bubbles, then lowered herself in gingerly. Groaning at the welcome heat, she lay
back and stretched out in the hot water.

She missed him. That was the terrible
thing. She’d known him for such a short amount of time, and yet already she
missed him. She’d loved the way he’d worshipped her body, showering it with
praise and showing her exactly how much she turned him on. Nobody else had ever
made her feel so attractive, so beautiful. And safe. The word surprised her,
but it was true. She felt safe with him, and not just because she’d been
strapped to him when she jumped out of the plane. She liked his strength, his
confidence. His Shakespearean vulnerability only emphasized how self-assured he
appeared the rest of the time.

A knock sounded at the door and startled
her out of her reverie. “Yes?”

“Phone call for you,” Stella said. “You
wanna take it in there?”

“Who is it?”

“Macbeth. Or possibly Hamlet.”

Chloe bit her lip, not knowing whether to
laugh or cry. She sat up and dried her hands on the towel, then brought up her
knees to cover herself. “It’s not locked,” she said. Stella came in and handed
her the phone. She’d also brought a glass of wine and a plate with four
chocolates on it, which she left on the side.

“Thank you,” Chloe mouthed. Stella winked
before going out again.

“Hello,” she said into the mouthpiece. Her
voice sounded breathless, even to herself.

“Hey, you.” His deep voice sent a tingle
down her back.

“Hey. How did you get my number?”

“FBI. Apparently you have a record.”

She smiled and leaned back, sliding down
into the water as she popped a chocolate in her mouth. “What do you want?”

“To talk to you. I was going to give you a
few more days’ space, but I couldn’t wait. I’m sorry for the other day. I shouldn’t
have been so intense. I don’t want to lose you.”

Against her will, tears came into her eyes.
He’d wanted to call her. He felt the same way about her as she felt about him.
“I miss you,” she whispered.

“I miss you too, honey. That’s why I called
you.”

She leaned over the bath to pick up the
towel so she could wipe her face.

He cleared his throat. “Either you’re on a
boat or you’re in the bath.”

“I’m in the bath.”

“Huh.” He fell quiet for a moment, and
Chloe sat back, her lips starting to curve in spite of herself.
Uh-oh
,
said the angel.

“Stop it,” she scolded him.

His voice was all innocence. “Stop what?”

“Picturing me in the bath.”

“I can’t help it.”

“Try.”

“Not trying is more fun.” He sighed. “I’m
thinking about you all shiny and wet.”

She rolled her eyes and rested her head on
the back of the bath. “Is Orion with you?”

“Yep. He’s thinking about you too.”

She laughed. “I’m going now.”

“Don’t. Talk to me for a bit.”

She lifted some bubbles on her hands,
trying to ignore the surge of pleasure that flooded through her at the thought
that he wanted to talk to her. “What about?” She took a sip of wine from the
glass.

“What are you drinking?”

“Sorry, did I slurp?”

He laughed. “No. But I heard you swallow.”

She was not going to be led down that road.
“Stella brought me a glass of wine and some chocolates.”

“Oh, surprise, surprise.”

She smiled and bit into one. “Mm. Mint.”

“And…now I’m thinking about kissing you
again. You always taste of chocolate, you know that?”

“Do I?”

“I’ll never be able to look a truffle in
the eye again without thinking of you.”

“That’s nice.”

“It’s not, it’s torture. Chocolate makes me
think of you, and you make me think of sex. So now chocolate makes me think of
sex. I can’t even look a Kit Kat in the face without thinking of your breasts
and…other parts.”

“It’s a very sexy food. Especially melted.”

He groaned. “You wicked woman.”

“What? Don’t you agree? Don’t you think it
would be sexy to lick melted chocolate off me?”

Now, now,
scolded the angel, but the devil was busy rubbing his hands.

Garth sighed. “Yes. I do like the idea of
licking melted chocolate off you.” His voice turned teasing. “I can think of
some very naughty places I’d like to drizzle it.”