White-Hot Christmas (4 page)

At that moment, however, his attention was drawn to the way she’d started eating her ice lolly. She’d unwrapped the frozen ice on a stick and was busy catching the drops with her tongue where it had started to melt. She ran her tongue very slowly up the long length of the lolly—which was amusingly phallic shaped, or was it his imagination?—from the base to the top, which she then covered with her mouth. He stared. She listened to Bree talk, unaware of the suggestiveness of her actions, and did it again, turning the lolly around and licking the base with her pink tongue, then brushing the cold pole all the way up. Against his will, blood rushed to his groin.

He lifted his sunglasses onto the top of his head for a better look, wondering if he’d imagined it. Did she know how erotic she looked? Nobody else seemed conscious of it. He watched, intrigued, holding his breath, as she sucked with her beautiful soft lips at the base, then ran her tongue up it a third time, right to the top. She covered the tip with her mouth, sucking gently. He nearly groaned out loud. She did it again and again, and each time he felt himself harden a little more until he knew if she looked at his thin shorts, she would be in no doubt of his arousal.

She circled her tongue around the tip several times before plunging the lolly between her lips again. By this time, he was incapable of speech and could only stare as, to his shock, she slid the ice lolly into her mouth, taking the whole length of it in, almost to the stick. It was such a wanton, erotic display, he nearly swore out loud.

At that moment, she looked over at him. He stared, waiting for her to grow embarrassed and look away or, even worse, glare at him. She didn’t, though, and he suddenly realised she knew he had been watching her and knew exactly what she was doing.

She pulled the lolly slowly out of her mouth, leaving her lips glistening. She licked them, watching him with a bold, enticing stare. Then, quite clearly, she swallowed.

Neon closed his eyes. He tipped his head back until it met the wall with a thud, struggling to control the lust spiralling through him. Jeez, she’d nearly made him come in his shorts, little minx. It took a few moments of deep breathing to calm himself. When he felt in control again, he opened his eyes and looked up at the sky with a sigh, then glanced over to see Jake watching him, puzzled. A wry smile on his lips, he finally looked back at Merle. She laughed and winked at him.

“Wicked girl,” he mouthed, unable to stop himself smiling.

She shrugged and continued to lick the lolly, albeit in a less suggestive manner, but her eyes remained on him, lit with mischief. There was more to this prim British chick than met the eye.

Merle had enjoyed teasing him. And the sight of him closing his eyes and tipping his head back was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. She could imagine that was how he’d look when he came, the thought making her dizzy as she pictured him on top of her, arching into her.

Oh for the love of…
Bree was to blame for this. Her sister had turned her into a nymphomaniac.

Not that she could imagine any woman thinking about anything else when they looked at Neon. He was sex on a stick, built for lovemaking, pure and simple.

The waitress had brought out the food and everyone tucked in, hungry after a morning spent surfing and playing. Merle nibbled on a chunky fry, smiling as she saw Neon take bite after bite out of a huge sandwich. Gosh, the man could eat! But then look at his size—a Rav 4x4 needed more fuel than a Mini, didn’t it?

She looked across at Bree, who held up a hand, fingers spreading, mouthing the word “Fifty”. Merle shot her a glare but couldn’t stop herself smiling. The idea of seducing Neon into a one-night stand was very, very tempting.

But did she have the courage to do it?

Chapter Three

They spent the afternoon on the beach, and Merle passed a pleasant few hours lazing under the shade of a beach umbrella, catching up with Bree, while the men surfed and played Frisbee and other sports on the sand as the sun dipped lower, the girls occasionally joining in or splashing in the shallows.

It was odd to think this wasn’t a holiday for the majority of the group. They actually lived like this. The memory of the cold, wet weather she had left behind made her shudder. She couldn’t imagine being exposed to this sort of life day in, day out. Would it get dull after a while? There would have been a time when she thought it would, as she loved her job. Lately, however, work had become a slog, and coping with the demanding needs of her mother had begun to weigh heavily on her shoulders. The thought of sacrificing university life to spend every weekend lying on the beach in the sun seemed very attractive.

“So?” Bree asked out of the blue.

“So what?” Merle had thought her sister was asleep as she hadn’t spoken for a while. The younger girl looked over, shading her eyes with her arm.

“Have you thought any more about taking me up on my bet?”

“Are you still going on about that?”

“I saw the way you looked at him.” Bree’s eyes sparkled. “Am I in danger of losing my first fifty bucks?”

Merle sighed. “I doubt it. Do you really think I’m brave enough to suggest a one-night stand to someone like Neon?”

Bree smile turned into a curious frown. “What do you mean?”

“Well, look at him, and look at me. Mr. Surf Dude and Miss Prim and Proper? How likely would he be to say yes? Being turned down would be a horrific embarrassment.”

“Turned down?” Bree started laughing again. “Have you looked in the mirror lately?”

“What’s your point?”

“Merle, I wouldn’t have suggested him if I didn’t think he’d jump you at the first opportunity. I guarantee you, there’s no way he’d turn you down.”

Merle rolled her eyes. “Of course not, I’m breathing.”

Bree smiled. “Actually he doesn’t sleep with everything going. He can afford to be picky. And I’m telling you—you’re gorgeous enough to catch his eye. I’ve seen the way he looks at you too, and you’ve only been here half a day.”

Merle grew hot, or was it the unrelenting sun on her cheeks? “He told Jake I was puritanical.”

“Well, you are.” Bree grinned. “But even so, I’ve seen him staring at you. There’s
no way
he’s not interested in getting you into bed.” She shrugged. “Anyway, he’s a nice guy. He wouldn’t hurt your feelings, even if he didn’t fancy you. But I’m telling you, he does.” She winked at Merle. “So, are we on?”

Merle glanced across at where the guys were now throwing a rugby ball to one another, seemingly unable to sit still for more than five minutes. She watched as Neon play-tackled one of the other guys to the ground. He was like essence of man. How on earth could Bree think she would have the courage to tell him she was up for a one-night stand? She couldn’t think how she’d even broach the topic, let alone go through with the act itself.

And yet… She felt a strange stirring in her stomach at the thought of walking up to this guy—this stranger, when she didn’t even know his second name—and kissing him, letting him touch her in places she hadn’t been touched for what seemed like an eternity.

It wasn’t something English Merle would ever consider doing. But wasn’t that the point? Here, thirteen thousand nautical miles away, she could be anyone she wanted. Kiwi Merle could have a completely different personality from what she normally had. Wasn’t that an exciting thought?

She wasn’t usually impetuous. But maybe Kiwi Merle was. Her heart thumped. “All right, it’s a deal.”

Bree stared at the hand Merle held out. She reached out and shook it, a smile creeping onto her face. “I didn’t think you’d accept. Mind you, saying it’s one thing—doing it’s another.”

“If it happens, I swear, you’ll be the first to know.”

The group of men came over, their rugby game finished. Shirtless again, wearing only swimming shorts, Neon grabbed a bottle of water and drank two-thirds of it in one go, then poured the remainder over his head, scattering them with drops as he shook it like a dog. Merle sighed.

“Sorry,” he said. Beads of water trailed down his broad chest, and as he ran a hand through his hair, it sprang back up, scattering further droplets over her. She hadn’t been complaining, but she didn’t know how to explain that.

“No worries,” she said, echoing his earlier words, trying to put on the Kiwi accent.

Neon laughed. “That was more Australian.”

“Same thing, isn’t it?”

He grinned at her mischievous smile. She was looking at him like she wanted to do a re-enactment of her ice lolly performance on him, and he remembered the way she’d stared at him when Jake first introduced them, her eyes like saucers. This English academic definitely had red blood running beneath the surface.

On impulse he said, “Want to go for a walk?”

She blinked. “Oh. Er, sure.” She glanced at her sister, who grinned, amused. Merle turned her back on her and smiled at Neon. “Maybe you can tell me what some of those plants are growing along the beach.”

Bree snorted.

He raised his eyebrows. “Less of the incredulousness, missy. I’m an expert on New Zealand botany, if you must know.”

Merle let him pull her to her feet again and dusted herself. “Really?”

“Absolutely. That’s a tree and that’s a flower—what more do you want to know?” He smiled as they laughed, and he handed Merle her wide-brimmed hat. “Don’t want you getting burned.”

“Thanks.”

Bree winked at her sister. “Have a nice nature trail.” She lifted her hand as if to wave at Merle, but spread her fingers as if indicating the number five. Merle frowned at her, and Bree grinned and covered her face with her hat.

Merle stepped over Bree and scuffed sand over her before following him along the beach. Clearly they had been talking about something that embarrassed her. What was it? Something to do with him?

The day was growing long, and some of the group had gone up to the beach house to light the barbecue for dinner. It was his favourite time of the day, the sun low on the horizon, the air humid and sultry. Merle’s skin was a light pink in spite of the fact that she’d applied lotion several times during the day. She didn’t say anything for a while as they walked, and neither did he. Their bodies seemed to be having a conversation of their own. He was very aware of her pale arm next to his, the glisten of moisture in the V of her breasts, and the sexy sway of her hips.

“I’m sorry for earlier,” she said eventually.

“Hmm?”

“For insulting you, about Shakespeare. I didn’t mean it. I’m not normally so rude.”

He laughed. “No worries.” But he appreciated the apology.

“Does this pattern mean anything?” She indicated the tattoo on his upper arm, her finger lightly tracing the black design. A shiver ran through him.

“Well, this is a koru—a curled-up silver fern. The fern’s the symbol for New Zealand—you’ve probably seen it on the All Blacks’ national rugby team shirt, and the Silver Ferns are the national netball team. You’ll see the pattern everywhere here.”

“Yes, I thought I’d seen it before.” She looked up at him. She had beautiful dark blue eyes, but he found them difficult to read. What was she thinking? He picked up a flat stone and skimmed it into the ocean, conscious of her watching him.

She cleared her throat. “What are those beautiful trees with the red flowers? I’ve seen them everywhere.”

“Pohutukawa.” He led her over to them. “We call them our Christmas trees because they always flower at this time of year. See—I do know something about plants.” He smiled and she laughed, then repeated the word perfectly. He raised his eyebrows. “That’s impressive—it usually takes people several goes to get that right.”

“I have an ear for languages.”

“Oh? Can you speak any others?” He ducked under an overhanging branch. A couple of the trees formed a natural nook by a cluster of rocks. He sat on one, and she perched across from him. Her sundress had a split at the bottom and it now parted, revealing her pale and shapely legs to mid-thigh. Her hands rested on the rock, and as she leaned forward, her breasts strained at the fabric, and he had a terrific view down her cleavage. Wow, she was hot. He blinked and tried to concentrate on her face.

“I’m fluent in French and German, and I can get by in Spanish and Italian. And I can insult you in several other languages.”

He laughed. “Go on then.”

She thought about it. “
Caesar si viveret, ad remum dareris
.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s Latin—it means ‘If Caesar were alive, you’d be chained to an oar.’”

He burst out laughing. She smiled, studying him for a moment. He got the impression she was trying to decide something, but he couldn’t guess what she was thinking.

He took off his sunglasses so he could see her better, putting them in his pocket. She blushed as he surveyed her, the same as she had when they first met, and he smiled again. She really was lovely. Her blue eyes were wide and serious. She swallowed, as if she was nervous, although he couldn’t think what about.

Finally she gave a little, resigned sigh. “
Voulez vous coucher avec moi, ce soir?
”

He grinned. “Even if I hadn’t heard the song, French happens to be one language I
am
familiar with.”

She studied him, her face serious. Then, taking him completely by surprise, she said again, “
Voulez vous?
”

He stared at her. His eyebrows rose as he realised she wasn’t just repeating the phrase, she was
asking him
if he wanted to sleep with her tonight.

He was completely stunned. Not because she’d been so forward, necessarily—there was nothing wrong with women taking the initiative, as far as he was concerned, and in fact he found it quite a turn-on normally. But that Merle should say something so blatant…

They studied each other for a moment. He felt baffled. Was she serious? It wouldn’t be the first time he’d misunderstood the signs—every guy had a story like that, and once he’d even been slapped, although in his defence he’d only been fifteen at the time. But Merle certainly seemed serious.

He couldn’t make her out at all. Her face was devoid of emotion, her eyes calm. Was this a regular thing for her? Did she sleep around a lot? Again, that didn’t particularly bother him—he enjoyed sex, so why shouldn’t women? But he couldn’t think that was the case. Jake had said she wasn’t impulsive, that there was no way she’d be interested in a holiday romance, and that she never went to bed with anyone without dating them for six months first. Was she really suggesting sex then? If so, how come she was so composed, so emotionless? He frowned, completely at a loss as to what to say.