Harlequin KISS August 2014 Bundle (44 page)

He felt his jaw clamp. God, he’d love to show her fifty shades
of
Leo. She wouldn’t be looking at him in that curious bird way at the end.
‘That’s not the point,’ he ground out.

‘That’s exactly the point. What’s wrong, Leo? Not enough room
in there?’ She leant over and tapped her fingers on his chest, right over his
heart.
Into
his heart, it felt like. ‘I don’t think
you should be lecturing me just because I have sex without love the
same as you
do.’

‘You’re supposed to want them both.’

She tossed her head. ‘Well, I don’t. I won’t. Ever. And
glowering at me isn’t going to change that.’

‘I’m not glowering. I don’t glower.’

‘Oh, you
so
do. It’s kind of
cute.’

‘I’m not cute.’

‘Sure you are—in that I’m-a-typical-male-hypocrite kind of
way.’

‘I’m not a hypocrite either.’

‘Go and get yourself nicely monogamised and I’ll believe
you.’

‘Monogamised isn’t a real word.’

That twitch at the side of her mouth.

Leo felt his temper surge. ‘And I
am
monogamous.’

‘Yeah—but one-after-the-other monogamy doesn’t count if there’s
a hundred in the pipeline.’

He wanted to haul her out of her chair and... And what?

And
nothing
, that was
what.
Nothing.

‘Ben’s coming back so I’ll leave you to it,’ he said. ‘I’ve got
some dessert coming out for you.’

She bit her bottom lip. ‘Oh, dear—I really will need to start a
diet tomorrow.’

Leo got to his feet. ‘Just get Ben to kiss you twice.’

Sunshine grabbed his hand to keep him where he was.

His fingers curled around hers before he could stop them—and
then his fingers stiffened. He pulled his hand free, flexed his fingers.

Sunshine’s eyes flickered from his hand to his face. There was
doubt in her eyes. And concern. And a tenderness that enraged him. He didn’t
need it. Didn’t need Sunshine-bloody-Smart messing with his head or his
goddamned hand.

‘Why are you upset with me, Leo?’ she asked softly.

He was unbearably
conscious of the scent of her. Jonquils. A
woman who’d just stuffed herself silly with meat shouldn’t smell like flowers,
so why did she?

‘I’m not upset with you,’ he said flatly.
Liar.
‘I’ll email you a map for Monday.’

He strode back to the kitchen, furious with himself because he
was
upset with her.

But that was the ‘what’ of the equation. What he couldn’t work
out was the ‘why’.

What? Why?

Oh, for God’s sake!

THREE

TO: Jonathan Jones

FROM: Sunshine Smart

SUBJECT: Wedding of the century

Quick update, darling...

Invitations are underway—wording attached. We’re going with smart/cocktail as the dress code, although obviously I will be wearing a long dress as befits my bridesmaid status.

Off to check the venue in the morning. It shows every indication of being divine.

Next we’ll be working on the menu, but having now eaten at two of Leo’s establishments I have no doubt it will be magnificent.

I wish I could meet a chef. Well, obviously I HAVE met one now, but I mean one with jumpable bones!

Sunny xxx

PS—Leo rides a motorbike! And, no, I still haven’t done it, but soon.

TO: Caleb Quartermaine

FROM: Leo Quartermaine

SUBJECT: Coming along

Sunshine has the invitations under control and I’m attaching the save-the-date we’ve decided on. If I don’t hear from you in the next day or so I’ll go ahead and get this out as per the War and Peace-sized invitation list.

Meeting Sunshine at South in the morning. And if she raises any concerns you’ll have to arrange bail for me because I’ll kill her.

I’m growing
my hair—hope you’re happy. And I am apparently having a pair of shoes custom-made for me. Was that your idea? Because I WILL get you back.

LQ

‘Wow,’ Sunshine
said out loud.

South had to have the best position of any restaurant in the whole world.

Well, all right, she hadn’t been everywhere in the whole world, and she was sure there must be oodles of well-situated restaurants
all over the planet—in fact she would look up ‘most scenic restaurants in the world’—but it was spectacular.

The restaurant was perched on the edge of the cliff. But in some mind-blowing engineering feat the entrance to it was positioned actually
over
the cliff and doubled as a small viewing platform. The floor was transparent, so looking down you could see a landscape of trees curving steeply
to the beach. Looking directly forward, you could see the deep blue of the ocean; looking to the side and backwards gave you a view into the restaurant. No tables and chairs in there yet, but the space was sharp and clean, with a seemingly endless use of glass to take advantage of the view.

She breathed in the ultra-fresh air. It was windy, and her hair was flying everywhere, but she didn’t
care. This venue was perfectly...
perfect
for a wedding celebration.

Perfectly perfect. That had been Leo’s description of the private room at Q Brasserie. He’d been annoyed with himself over the way he’d described it, which had made her want to hug him, because it was just
not
something to be annoyed about.

Not that he was the cuddly teddy-bear type you could pat and jolly out of the
sullens. He was impatient and standoffish and most of the time just plain monosyllabic cranky. There was no reason at all to feel that he needed to be hugged more often.

And yet...she wanted to put her arms around him right now.

Wanted to be close to him, held by him. Comforting. Comforted.

Dangerous, debilitating thought.

It had to be the proximity of the ocean messing with
her head. For which she should have prepared herself before her arrival. Instead here she was, not knowing when or how hard the jolt would hit her—only knowing that it would.

So she would force it—get it done, dealt with, before she saw Leo. She didn’t want to slip up in front of him again.

She took a breath in. Out. Looked out and down, focusing her thoughts... And even though she was
expecting it to hit, the pain tore her heart. The memory of Moonbeam was so vivid she gasped.

Moonbeam had believed she belonged to the ocean—and Sunshine had always felt invaded, overrun, by the truth of that when she was near the coast, even when she was far above the water, like now.

One of her most poignant memories was of their last time at the beach. Darkness, rain, and Moonbeam
exulting as she raced naked into the waves.
‘This is where I’m me!’
Moon had yelled, and Sunshine, laughing but alarmed as she tried to coax her out of the freezing, dangerous, roiling surf, had called her a crazy Poseidon-worshipping hippie.

Three days later Moonbeam was dead.

Sunshine touched her sun and moon charms. She longed so keenly for her sister just then she couldn’t move,
could barely breathe. The loneliness, the hunger to be so close to someone that you were like two sides of the same coin, was like a knife wound. But not a sharp wound; it was a
festering
wound that wouldn’t close, wouldn’t heal.

‘Sunshine?’

She took a moment, forcing the depression to the back of her consciousness with a shake of her head as she’d trained herself to do in public. Defences
securely in place, she turned, smiling, to face Leo, who was standing at the doors leading into the restaurant.

‘Hi, Leo,’ she said.

Leo pushed the heavy doors further open, inviting her to enter. She started to lean up to kiss him as she crossed the threshold, but he jerked away before she could connect and she stumbled. He grabbed her elbow. Released it the nanosecond she regained
her balance.

Ah, okay! She got it. He didn’t want her to kiss him.

In fact...thinking back over their few meetings...she would go so far as to say he didn’t want her to touch him in any way, ever.

And she’d just been daydreaming about putting her arms around him. Way to give the man a heart attack!

Was it just her, or did he have a problem touching all women? And if it was
a problem with women generally, how did the man manage to have sex with a human?

Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he had a blow-up doll.

Maybe it wasn’t just women.

Maybe he had a problem touching men
and
women. Maybe he had a problem touching pets.
And
blow-up dolls.

Maybe he had an obsessive-compulsive disorder, hand-washing thing going on.

Hmm. She’d read something that might
help in that case—about systematic desensitisation...or was it exposure therapy...?

In Leo’s case it would mean touching him often, to get him to see that nothing diabolical would happen to him just because of a bit of skin contact.

She could do that.

It would be a public service, almost.

A favour to a man who was going to be family—well, kind of family.

What was more,
it would be
fun
.

‘Oh, dear. I’m sorry, Leo. I took you by surprise, didn’t I?’ She bit her lip. ‘I should have learned by now not to launch myself at people when they aren’t ready! I once ended up in an embarrassing half-kiss, half-handshake, nose-bumping, chokehold situation. Has that ever happened to you?’

‘No.’

‘Well, just to make sure it never does I’ll give you an indicator
before I kiss you in future—say...puckering up my lips like a trout, so you’ll know it’s coming.’ She stopped and thought about that. ‘Actually, I wonder why they call it a trout pout when women overdo the lip-filler? Trout don’t seem to have excessively large lips to me.’

He was looking at her lips now.

‘Not that my own lips are artificially inflated, if that’s what you’re wondering,’
she assured him, moving further into the restaurant. ‘They’re just naturally troutish. If trout really
do
have thick lips, that is. I definitely need to have another look at a photo of a trout.’

Leo’s gaze had moved on to her hair. In fact he was looking at it with a moroseness that bordered on the psychotic.

What the
hell
was going on in his head?

‘Is something wrong with my hair?’
she asked, and flicked a hand at it. ‘Do I look like I stuck my finger in an electrical socket? Because it’s windy out there.’ She reached into her bag—an orange leather tote—and pulled out an elastic band. Bundling the tousled mess of it into a bunch at the back of her head, she tucked the ends under and roughly contained it. ‘There—fixed,’ she said. ‘I need a haircut, but I’m not sure how to
style it for the wedding so it has to wait. I have a great hairdresser—actually, I used to date him.’

‘
Another
one?’

‘Another...? Oh, you mean someone else I used to date? Well, yes. Anyway, Iain—that’s my hairdresser—says he needs to see the dress first. Some people might say that’s a little neurotic, but he’s a genius so I’m not arguing. And, of course, if I did argue it would be a
pot-kettle-black thing, because I’m just as neurotic. I can’t design your shoes, for example, until I know what you’re wearing.’

He looked a heartbeat away from one of those glowers he supposedly didn’t do. It was his only response.

‘That was a hint, by the way, to let me know what you’re wearing.’

‘Yep, I got that.’

Silence.

‘So!’ she said. ‘What do you think? About my
hair? Should I keep the fringe? It won’t grow out completely in two months, but it should be long enough to style differently—say, like...’ She pushed the fringe to one side, smoothing it across her temple.

‘I like the fringe,’ Leo said.

Words! Yay! But he was
still
frowning.

And now he was looking at her dress.

Okay, so it was a little tight—hello! After two nights in a row
at his restaurants, never mind yesterday’s two-minute noodles, sugar donuts, and family block of chocolate, what did he expect? But nothing
that
remarkable. Kind of conservative. Just a nude-coloured woollen sheath. V-neck, knee-length, three-quarter sleeves, no fussy trim.

His eyes kept going, down her legs to her shoes. Five-inch-high nude pumps.

‘Problem?’ she asked, when his eyes
started travelling back up, and she must have sounded exasperated because that stopped him.

At last he looked in her eyes. ‘You look good—as usual.’

Oh.
‘Thank you,’ she said, and actually felt like preening.

‘But I don’t want you to break your neck wriggling around in that dress and tottering on those heels. The building is finished but there’s still some debris around that you
could trip over.’

And we’re back!

This was going to be a long day. A long,
fun
day. He was just so irresistibly grumpy!

She stepped towards the windows. ‘This is just brilliant!’ Turned to shoot him a broad smile. ‘Are you going to give me a tour, Leo?’

He nodded—and looked so uninviting that Sunshine almost laughed. Well, there was no time like the present to commence his
therapy and start touch, touch, touching!

Brace yourself, Leo darling.

‘Yes, but be careful,’ Leo was saying, oblivious. ‘And leave your bag—it looks heavy.’

Sunshine dropped the bag on the spot. ‘Tell you what,’ she said, walking back to him, ‘I’m just going to hold on to you so you don’t have to worry about the state of my fragile limbs.’ She took his arm before he could back
away. His arm felt hard and unyielding, like a piece of marble. Or petrified wood. Petrified! Perfect. She beamed up at him. ‘Lead on, Leo.’

His jaw was shut so tightly she thought he might crack a tooth.

Oh, dear...oh, deary me!
This was going to be
good.

* * *

This was
bad
, Leo realised.

Actually, he’d realised it the moment he saw her standing on the viewing platform
outside, looking glamorous and yet earthy. And wistful. And...sad.

So she was sad—so what? She recovered like lightning, didn’t she? Like the other times. There was no reason for him to want to... Well, no reason for anything.

And her hair was annoying! Out on the platform the wind had been blowing it every which way and she hadn’t given a thought to the tangle it was creating, and then
she’d shoved the mess of it into a band as though it didn’t matter. She
should
care about her damned hair the way every other woman he’d ever dated cared.

Not
that he was dating her.

It was destabilising, that was all, to have his perceptions mucked around with.

As was the way she’d cast that expensive-looking orange leather carry-all thing onto the floor—as though it were no more
valuable than a paper shopping bag.

And the fact that she never wore nail polish.

The way she could make her eyes twinkle at will.

And that fresh flower smell of hers.

The jolt when she took his arm and looked up at him with mischief printed all over her face like a tattoo.

He didn’t want to feel gauche when he pulled away from her touch and nearly caused her to face-plant—and
then embarrassed because she laughed it off and blamed herself when he
knew
that
she
knew the fault was his. Because Sunshine, he was coming to realise, was no dummy.

And he certainly didn’t want to feel disapproving, like a damned priest, just because she was dating two men simultaneously and didn’t love either of them. Because she was right about one thing: who was he to lecture her?

Leo flexed his arm under her hand, which felt disturbingly light and warm and...whatever. It was nothing. Meant nothing. It was just her keeping her balance. The same as holding on to a railing.

He took a slow, silent breath. ‘Let’s start with the kitchen,’ he said, and led her though swinging doors into a large room of gleaming white tiles and spotless stainless steel surfaces. ‘Everything
in here is state of the art, from the appliances to the ventilation system.’

Sunshine let go of his arm—relief!—and turned a slow circle. ‘It’s kind of daunting. Although I think that about every kitchen.’

‘You don’t like to cook?’

‘I just do
not
cook. I can’t. I did once boil an egg, although it ended up hard like the inside of a golf ball.’ That stopped her for a moment. Distracted
her. ‘Have you ever peeled off the outer layer of a golf ball?’ she asked. ‘It’s amazing inside—like an endless rubber band wrapped round and round.’

Not exactly a riveting fact, but she did seem to have an interest in the oddest subjects. ‘You boiled it too long,’ he said.
Yeah, I kind of think she figured that out herself, genius.