Trade (15 page)

She sucked on his tongue. Her
inner muscles gripped and relaxed again and again, then she pulled away enough
to whisper his name.

He thrust harder. Faster.

Her sighs and his filled the air,
incoherent responses to the tornado whisking them both up into a world where
nothing mattered but this moment.

*****

She unwrapped her legs from around Sholto’s waist, and he
lowered her gently until her feet were on the floor.

His body eased out of hers.

“Where’s the bathroom?”

She took his hand, led him to the
bedroom, and pointed at through the door to the room beyond. It was impossible
not to watch his naked body walk away. To appreciate the muscles rippling in
his back, and his perfect ass. The bedside alarm clock showed it was 2.20 a.m.
She climbed into bed and pulled the coverlet to cover her nakedness. It felt
like a dream. As though she’d thought of him with such concentration she’d
somehow conjured him out of the air.

How could he be here? Why was he
here, days before he was due to arrive?

The door opened, flooding light
across the room for a moment before he flicked a switch and strode across the
thick carpet, and climbed in to her bed. He draped an arm around her shoulders
and pulled her close.

“I wasn’t expecting you for a
couple of days.”

His fingers traced circles on her
upper arm. “I know. But my work was done, and there wasn’t anything keeping me
in LA any longer. I didn’t want to waste any more time waiting for what I want.
What I need.” His arm tightened. “I think of you all the time. I don’t want to
be without you any longer.”

Her heart fluttered. “But you have
to live in America for your job, don’t you?”

Before yesterday’s talk with
Shelly, her business seemed an insurmountable obstacle keeping them apart. But
if she took Shelly up on her offer, she could live anywhere. Could be with him.

“Ideally, yes. But there’s nothing
to stop me buying a house here too. We could live between both.” He tilted up
her chin, and stared into her eyes. “I missed you. I don’t want anyone else. Move
in with me.”

She swallowed. “We haven’t been
together long.”

His mouth curved into a sexy smile
that made her feel like dragging him down in the bed and kissing him again. “In
normal cases, yes. Seven days together is barely long enough to scratch the
surface. But we’re different. We shared our true selves with each other on the
island—we connected at a level it’s impossible for two people to reach in the
regular world. Stealing time together isn’t enough.”

His finger tranced her cheek. “You’re
the only person I’m myself with. I’ve always had to hide.” A muscle flexed in
his jaw. “My early life was difficult. My mother was agoraphobic and a hoarder.
I couldn’t let anyone know because they’d have taken me away from her.”

His pained expression made her
heart clench, but she stayed silent.

“New Year’s a big deal in
Scotland, and I spent every year in at home with my mother, watching
television. When I was sixteen, my friend Duncan invited me to a Hogmanay party
at his cousin’s house. The lure of food, drink, and girls was pretty
irresistible, so I asked my mother if I could go. She agreed of course. She
understood how much I wanted to escape for a few hours. I put together a plate
of food for her to eat in front of the television, and went up to get dressed.”

He ran a hand through his hair.

“I’d arranged to meet Duncan
there, but he and his parents surprised me by picking me up. When the doorbell
rang, I didn’t get down the stairs fast enough.”

Max shifted to face him. She slipped
her hand into his. “What happened?”

“She was always worse around Christmas,”
Sholto whispered. Then he closed his eyes. Breathed deep. “She got to the door
before me. By the time I stumbled down the stairs they were inside. Ma hadn’t
washed for weeks, or brushed her hair. We had no Christmas decorations, no tree.
There was no room in the house for them. My friend’s parents were standing
there, in shock, staring at the conditions we lived in. Ma just muttered
something, and shuffled back to her chair in the sitting room.”

He stared into her eyes. “It was
like a rabbit warren. She wouldn’t let me throw stuff away, and the hall was
stacked waist-high with newspapers and rubbish, with a track wide enough for
one body the only access between rooms. I was used to it, but Duncan’s parents…”

He pulled in a shaky breath. “They
called social services straight away. I broke our family. I should never have
let anyone close enough that they felt it was okay to come to my house. My
mother was committed and died soon after.”

He gripped her hand so tightly it
hurt.

“The truth’s not pretty, is it?”

“You were a child. It wasn’t your
fault.” Her heart twisted. She never dreamed such pain hid behind the confident
persona he projected.

“You’re the only person who knows
the real me. I can’t lose you. Time’s too short to pretend, I want you to live
with me.”

He was right. She felt like a
cliff diver standing on top of a large, jagged cliff staring into the azure
depths below, preparing to launch herself into nothingness. Afraid,
exhilarated, brave. On the island she’d thought when back in civilization, they’d
take it slow. They’d date, and segue gently into a serious relationship.

But there was nothing gentle about
the feelings he stirred in her heart. Nothing conventional. Being without him
had been pure, unadulterated torture. Cliff diving was the only option.

“I’ll live with you.” The mental
jump, then his arms were around her, and instead of cool water closing around
her, it was his warm body surrounding her.

His hands speared through her
hair, and for the first time, they made love in the soft comfort of a bed.

Chapter Sixteen

“Sholto.”

Max’s voice woke him from sleep.
He opened his eyes to see her standing by the side of the bed, fully dressed in
a navy suit and heels. “Come back to bed.”

She shook her head. “I can’t. I
have to go in to the office. I have an early meeting.” She took a step away. “I’ll
try to get everything done early and bring something home for lunch.” She
placed a set of keys on the bedside table. “Here are some keys for you if you
want to go out and get breakfast or something—I don’t have anything in except
coffee.”

Irritation almost made him scowl.
He’d imagined he would arrive at her door and they’d spend the next few days in
bed, catching up. But he hadn’t given her any warning, and of course she’d have
responsibilities to deal with. “You’re the boss, aren’t you? You could just say
you weren’t coming in today…”

“I could.” Her mouth turned up in
a smile. “But my employees are waiting for me. I can’t let them down. It’s
Friday, so once I’ve sorted things out in the office we can spend the whole
weekend together.”

“Well, hurry back.” He sat up in
bed, reached for her hand, and tugged her close.

She bent and kissed him. His body
responded instantly at the taste of her, and it took a monumental effort not to
deepen the kiss and change her mind.

“Scoot.” He got out of bed, making
no attempt to hide his erection. “I need a cold shower.”

She was staring at his body like a
starving lioness eyeing a fresh kill.

“Unless you want to change your
mind? Last chance.”

She shook her head and shifted
dazed eyes to his face. “I’m out of here.” She spun around. “See you later.”

After cursing the coldness of the
water, he cranked it up to warm, and sang along to a song playing on the radio
in the bedroom. He rubbed shampoo on his hair, and turned the heat up further.

He planned every aspect of his
career carefully, but the same sure couldn’t be said of his private life. When
it came to Max, he was acting on impulse all the way. He’d jumped on a plane a
couple of days early, desperate to be with her. Had screwed her senseless the
minute he saw her, and to top it off, he spilled his guts about his mother and
asked Max to live with him.

Because life without her made no
sense.

He shoved his head under the
stream of hot water, then shook the droplets from his hair like a dog in a
rainstorm. A memory of the look on her face when she saw him at her door
flashed into his head, making him grin.

I love her.
Neither of them
had said the L word yet, but it was there in his actions, written deep in her
eyes when they made love last night.

Being together wouldn’t be easy,
there were logistical issues to get out of the way, but they both wanted to be
together, and that was a good start.

He toweled off, and dressed in
clean jeans and a T-shirt, and wandered barefoot out of the room in search of
coffee. The apartment he’d seen little of the previous night was small. Her
bedroom faced the street. He opened the door of the room next to it, and stopped,
shock stealing his breath. Piles of cardboard boxes covered the available floor
space, stacked waist high and above.

His mind flashed back to his
childhood. To his first home, where getting anywhere was impossible due to his
mother’s overwhelming compulsion to hoard. He closed his eyes tight, and tried
to quiet his racing heartbeat. Then he opened his eyes again and looked closer.

Yes, there were boxes everywhere.
But the piles of newspapers, the random nature of things collected was absent.
It’s
not the same.
The room was used for storage, not as a repository for clutter.
The boxes had words written on them with heavy, black marker. ‘Kitchen, Living
Room.’ He walked out and closed the door.

Down a short corridor, the
apartment opened into a cozy living area. Two large sofas dominated the space,
with a coffee table between them. He walked through a doorway on the far side
of the room and found a small kitchen.

She wasn’t kidding. The fridge was
empty apart from a pint of milk, and the cupboards were bare. He made a cup of
coffee, took it to the sofa, and flicked on the TV at a national news channel.
Maybe they could take a trip this weekend down to Kent. He’d told his uncle the
news about getting the part in
Solo
, and the older man was delighted,
just as Sholto had known he would be. At the same time, they could visit Max’s
father…

“Sholto Kincaid.” His attention
snapped to the television screen to see his face and that of the taxi driver
from the previous night.

“On the line we have Mr. Dawson,
the taxi-driver in this picture. Good morning, Mr. Dawson.”

A disembodied voice responded. “Good
morning, Eamonn.”

“That’s a great selfie. Tell us
about it.”

“I picked Mr. Kincaid up at the
airport last night. My wife shared the picture on Facebook—I really didn’t
expect what’s happened since.” The guy’s voice sounded panicked. “I mean, she
just wanted to show her friends, but somehow everyone knows about it. I’ve had
television, radio and the press on the phone this morning, wanting to know
where I dropped him, how long he’s in the country. I really didn’t expect this.”

“And you haven’t told them, have
you?” The presenter flashed a winning smile. “I have to tell you we’re hoping
you’re going to tell us where you dropped him. We can make out a few details in
the background, but…”

“He’s a nice bloke. He deserves
his privacy. One of the tabloids offered my wife money, but I didn’t tell her
either, so I want everyone to back off, because I intend to keep his location
secret.”

“Thank you, Mr. Dawson.” The
picture of the two of them vanished from the screen. “So there you have it,
folks. Sholto Kincaid is somewhere in London this morning. If you feel like
contacting the station, just give us a call, Sholto.” A number flashed across
the bottom of the screen. “And if anyone has any sightings to share, just let
us know.”

“Shit.” Sholto turned off the TV,
strode to the window, and pulled back the net curtain.

The street was empty, but the
television station had just effectively put a price on his head.

*****

The meeting was going well. Cam had given thought to their
discussion on the plane, and was enthusiastic about negotiating with Shelly
Green. Marie, the receptionist, was happy to go along with whatever was
decided, as long as it meant she wasn’t out of a job.

When Max’s phone buzzed, she
glanced at the caller ID and smiled. “Excuse me a moment.” She hadn’t told the
others she had Sholto holed up in her apartment. She left the room. “Hi.”

“We’ve got a problem.” His voice
was urgent and businesslike. “Have you seen the news?”

“No. What’s going on?”

“The goddamned taxi driver last
night.” He let loose a string of colorful curses. “He wanted a photo with me—I
should have said no.”

“Tell me what’s happened.”

“Ever since the interview the
entire fucking world is obsessed with where I am. What I’m doing. Your house
was in the background, and it’s splashed all over the news. I need to get out
of here, pronto.”

“I’ll call you back.” Her mind raced
over the possibilities as she strode back into the boardroom and sat. “We have
an urgent job. That was Sholto Kincaid on the phone. The paparazzi are on his
tail, and he needs to disappear.”

“Sholto Kincaid?” Marie’s voice
was so high, it was probably disturbing bats within a five mile radius. “He’s
in the country? I just love—”

Max shook her head. “Not helping,
Marie.”

Marie sucked in her bottom lip. “Sorry,
it’s just he’s so gorgeous.”

Before her receptionist had a
chance to make it worse, and die of embarrassment when she learned her boss was
sleeping with her crush, Max spoke. “He’s in my apartment.”

Marie’s mouth gaped. She blinked.

Max turned to Cam. “Kathryn
Hazzard’s gate lodge is empty, and I have the key. I’ll call her now and clear
it with her, but I need you to pick him up and drive him out there. I gave him
a set of keys this morning, so he’ll be able to escape through the back garden
and get into the lane behind the house. They could have identified the house by
now. You know where the laneway is?”

Cam nodded.

“Go now. I’ll call Kathryn.”

Cam followed her into her office,
where Max searched her top drawer for the keys to Hazzard Hall’s gate lodge.
Kathryn and Daniel were in America at the moment, and she’d been given the keys
for emergencies. This sure felt like one.

“I’ll call and let him know you’re
on the way.”

After she told Sholto of the plan,
Max called Kathryn’s number.

“Hey, hon. What’s going on?”
Kathryn’s voice was sleepy.

Max screwed up her face. “I’m
sorry, I didn’t think. It must be the middle of the night there.”

“It’s not like you to make that
mistake, hang on.” Max heard a man’s voice in the background. “It’s Max. I’ll
take it in the other room.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake
you two.”

“Don’t worry about it. Daniel’s
just being grumpy. I’m so glad to catch up. It’s been ages since we’ve spoken.”

Guilt that she was ringing Kathryn
because she wanted something, not just to talk, filled Max. They’d drifted
apart since Kathryn had followed Daniel out to California, and even when her
friend was in the country, she was accompanied by her fiancé, so things weren’t
the same. Her spare room was full of Kathryn’s possessions from Hazzard Hall
while they decided where they would eventually settle.

“Are you seeing anyone? Is this a
call about a boy?” Kathryn teased.

“About a man, actually. Sholto
Kincaid.”

Kathryn gasped. “The Damon Fitz
guy? Jeez, he’s so frigging hot. Don’t tell me you and he…”

“Yes. We’re…um…” She swallowed. “We’re
moving in together.”

Her friend’s shriek was
earsplitting. “You dark horse! When did this happen? I want to know all the
details. Spill.”

Max didn’t have time for that. By
now he’d be scaling her garden’s back wall, and climbing into Cam’s car. “I’ll
call you in a few hours and fill you in, but right now I need your help.”

*****

The doorbell buzzed. And there were muffled sounds of other
bells in the building buzzing too. Sholto checked out of the window to see a
phalanx of reporters massed outside. One of them was pressing all the bells
next to the front door, presumably hoping someone would be unthinking enough to
activate the door release without checking.

It would only be a matter of time
before that happened.

He walked to the back of the
apartment, and looked out the window, down the long garden and high wall. By
now, they’d have discovered the lane. The doorbell buzzed again.

He put on his shoes and socks, and
pulled on his leather jacket. Max’s neighbors didn’t need this. He didn’t need
it. But the window for escape was firmly closed. It was time to put an end to
this.

He dialed Max. “It’s too late.
They have me staked out. Call off the plan. I’m going out.”

He heard her breathe in. “You’ll
need a car. I’ll get her to drive around.”

“Don’t bother. I’ll deal with it.
I’ll call you later.” He terminated the call, and dialed The West Continental.

“It’s Sholto Kincaid. I have the
penthouse suite booked from Sunday, but my plans have changed and I want to check
in today.”

“Of course, Mr Kincaid.” A click
of keystrokes, then the receptionist continued, “Your suite is free at the
moment, so I can do that for you, Sir.”

“Great. There’s one other thing, I’m
having a little issue with paparazzi. I need a driver to pick me up.” He gave
the receptionist Max’s address.

“I’m sending one right now. They
should be with you in ten minutes.”

There was no damn way he was going
to be a prisoner. No way he would allow his life or Max’s to change because of
others’ curiosity. Once they knew Max and he were involved they’d hound her
too, and he was determined to protect her. To not let that happen.

He waited five minutes, then stowed
the keys in his pocket, picked up his bag, and left the apartment.

Cameras flashed when he opened the
front door. The air filled with excited questions.

He pulled the front door closed. “Give
me some room, please.” He pointed at the railings outside the house. “I think
the people who live here have been disturbed enough this morning. Clear the
doorstep and I’ll talk to you over there.”

The crowd obediently cleared. He
strode down the steps and stood with his back to the railings.

“Sholto, over here.”

“Who are you visiting, Sholto?”

“Is your girlfriend inside?”

He held up a hand. “I’ll make a
short statement. I flew into the country yesterday, and stayed the night with a
friend and business colleague. There’s nothing romantic going on between us.”

“Who’s the friend?” A rogue
reporter shouted.

“My friend’s identity isn’t
important. She’s not in the public eye.” He plastered on his most charming
smile.

“A secret girlfriend?” another
asked.

There was no way he would let Max
be dissected by the press. She’d had a hard enough time being splashed on the
front pages of the papers with the Hazzard Hall scandal, and there was still
that video from school out there—he hadn’t seen it for years, but it could
still surface.

“As you know from my recent
interview, I’m single, and I’m not seeing anyone right now. I know you have to
get pictures, but I don’t have anything else to add.”

A black Mercedes pulled up at the
kerb, and flashed its lights.

“I’d love to stay and chat, but I
have a business meeting and my ride is here. I would take the Tube, but I don’t
want to cause a sensation.”