Just My Luck (23 page)

Time for him to get another look at what she was beginning to suspect was his favorite part of her body. She kept dancing, turned her back on him one final time. Inched the tiny strip of fabric down her hips, bent forward a little to let him see it all, pulled the thong down a little bit more. Lowered it one slow inch at a time until she finally, slowly, dropped it.

She stepped out of it, kicked it aside. Spread her legs a bit, still leaning forward, and ran her hands slowly, lovingly over her hips, down her thighs, and back up again. Over the curves of her bottom, up her sides, over her breasts. Imagined those hands were his, and tried to show him how good he made her feel when he touched her. When he held her there. She put one hand down to cover herself, the other arm across her breasts. Kept her hands moving as she turned.

She shook out her hair again. Looked him straight in the eye. Slowly let her hands drift down her sides. Stood and showed herself to him. And waited.

Bloody hell. Nate felt as if his tongue were several sizes too big. He’d started out amused, had tossed out the challenge as a joke. He should have known that you didn’t challenge Ally, not if you didn’t want your challenge answered. And had she ever answered it. Without music, without wine, without sexy lingerie or dim lights, she’d given him one hell of a show, had made him forget all about his aching body, the nagging disappointment of the loss.

“Come over here,” he got out. And saw the way she tossed her head, the way she walked toward him, proud and fierce as a catwalk model.

He spread his legs, pulled her by the hips to stand between them. Then looked into her eyes, scooted back on the bed, and lay down on his back.

And she followed right along, as he’d known she would. Slid herself over him, reached for him, stroked him. Then bent down to kiss him, her hands on either side of his head, her tongue in his mouth. Took her time with him, moving to kiss his neck, his shoulders. Her hands over his chest, down to his thighs. All over him, her touch firm enough not to tickle, soft enough to let him know she was a woman. And making him burn.

Then she’d swung a leg over him, was leaving him. And he felt the loss of it through his entire body.

“Ally,” he protested. “Come back.”

But she was back over him now, ripping the packet open. Kissing her way down again, rolling the condom onto him. Moving up, then, taking hold so she could slide herself onto him. He groaned as she did it, his hands reaching for her hips.

But that was all he had to do, because she did it all. Drove herself over him, bent down to kiss him, to rub her pretty breasts against him. Which gave him the chance to put both hands on that gorgeous arse, handle her there, hold her tight, the way he’d wanted to do the entire time she’d been showing it to him, teasing him with it, flaunting it at him.

And then, finally, as she began to move faster, to take him deeper, he was reaching for her, rubbing her. Pulling her down with the other arm so he could reach her breast with his mouth, hold her there too. So that she was caught over him, squirming against his hand, gasping above his head, lost in her pleasure. And he could feel himself getting lost right along with her.

He felt the first racking spasms taking her, heard her begin to cry out. Then he was there too, emptying into her with a release that was all the sweeter for the fatigue, the ache in the rest of him. Feeling her surrender to it, and riding that beautiful wave with her, all the way down.

“What was it you wanted to show me?” she asked. She curled herself against him, kissed his chest. “Here I got all naked for you, and I still haven’t seen it.”

“If you’re going to get naked like that,” he groaned, “you’re going to make me lose my train of thought every time. We’ll never get anywhere.”

“No productivity whatsoever,” she agreed. “Not a single constructive thing accomplished. What a pity.”

He laughed, and she smiled back at him, leaned over to give him a soft kiss. “Still waiting,” she prompted.

He gave that pretty bum a good slap that made her jump and laugh, then sat up, pulling her with him.

“I was thinking this would feel good, be a bit sexy too. Didn’t realize we wouldn’t even get in there before you had me going.” He took her hand, led her into the bathroom.

“We’re taking a shower?” she asked doubtfully. “Well, that’s nice, but we already did that.”

“Nah.” He reached for the open shelves that held rolled white towels, grabbed two of them, then opened a door that she’d assumed led to a closet, to be met by a cloud of steam. “This is my special room. Sorry that it isn’t some sex torture dungeon. I know how disappointed you must be, but I actually prefer this, and maybe, if you give it a chance, you will too.”

She walked through ahead of him, stopped for a moment to let her eyes adjust to the dim light. “A sauna,” she said, turning to him. “I’ve never known anyone with a sauna in their house before.”

“Just a small one. But I don’t have big parties in here. Works for me.”

The tiny room was completely paneled in wood, she saw, with an upper and a lower bench running the entire length of one wall. And filled with the most wonderful steam.

“Up or down?” he asked.

“Uh . . . down,” she decided. That was going to be plenty hot for her.

He spread her towel on the lower shelf, then climbed to the upper one himself, spread out his own towel and lay down on his back. She followed suit, felt the delicious warmth, the moist steam enveloping her, soothing her. Felt her body melting into the wooden slats of the bench, her heart rate slowing, her breath deepening as her lungs filled with warm, moist air. Could only imagine how good it must feel on his abused body.

He made her get out, after ten minutes or so. Pulled her into the big shower, turned the water on, gradually twisted the handle until she was yelping under a stream of cold water. Then led her back into the sauna again for another session, then back for a second shower, warm this time, where they scrubbed each other down, blissfully limp and spent. They barely managed to stagger back to the big white bed, crawl beneath crisp, cool sheets. And slept the afternoon away.

Nate came back out onto the deck the next morning, smiled at the sight of Ally, her back to him, legs stretched out in front of her, sipping from her mug of tea. So obviously relaxed, so clearly enjoying herself, as happy to be here with him as he was to have her here. The tui were running through their impressive repertoire in the branches of the big trees at the back of the garden, and in a few minutes, the two of them were heading out on a walk to Kelburn Village for breakfast, followed by a stroll through the Botanic Garden. Which sounded, to him, like the very best way in the world to spend the morning. Like exactly what he wanted to do before getting on the plane this afternoon.

They hadn’t woken the day before until after five. Had cooked the simple dinner of salmon, greens, and roasted kumara and agria potatoes she’d bought from the Sunday market, eaten it out here to the accompaniment of a pretty nice Sauvignon Blanc he’d had in the fridge, and then had snuggled on the couch to watch a movie.

“Can’t believe action movies are your favorite,” he’d said. “You’re like the perfect woman.”

And afterwards, he’d taken her back to bed and done his best to repay the favor she’d done him, with interest. She’d seemed to appreciate the effort, and his body was feeling a whole lot better just now than it had this time yesterday. It was feeling good.
He
was feeling good.

He slid back into his chair, set his laptop down and opened it. “Right. Schedule for week after next, as I’ll be gone all this week. D’you know yours this time?”

She hopped up herself, went into the kitchen and came back pulling the piece of paper out of her purse. Held it out to him between finger and thumb.

“Behold,” she told him, “how well I prepared for this meeting.”

He smiled. “Still don’t have it on your phone, I see.”

“Hey. I remembered, didn’t I?”

He set the printed staffing schedule down next to his computer. “Pen?”

She fossicked about in her purse for long enough that he was just about to go into the kitchen to get one from the tub. Then, finally, extracted one and handed it to him. He went through the printout, circled all her shifts.

“If you do this,” he pointed out, “you’ll be able to see them more easily. Probably remember them better, too.”

“Hey,” she objected. “I always make it in. My way works for me.”

He shrugged, then began to click through his calendar, compare it to her list. “I’ll be back from Brissy at two on Sunday, En Zed time,” he began. “How about Sunday evening? We can go out to dinner.”

“Not that that wasn’t awesome last night,” he broke off to assure her. “Every bit of it. But, yeh. I’ll take you out. Bring your stuff for work Monday, and I can collect you around seven-thirty, drop you back at the gym the next morning in time for your shift, and I’ll still have time to watch some film in the afternoon.”

“OK,” she said agreeably.

“Other than that . . .” A bit more clicking and looking. “Thursday night. I can’t do dinner, but d’you want to spend the night? And come to the game Saturday? You and Kristen?”

“Sure,” she said. “I’ll check with Kristen, but I’m pretty sure she’ll want to come.”

“Two tickets, then.” He typed it in. “And I’ll collect you from your flat at eight-thirty Thursday, on my way back from dinner with the boys. We can have an early brekkie, then I’ll drop you at your flat again Friday morning.”

“OK,” she said again. “I’ll take that.”

“What does it look like on there?” she asked as he finished typing. “Just how hard is it to squeeze me in?”

He swiveled the laptop, showed her the spaces, most of them filled.

“What are these Auckland trips?” she asked. “Something to do with the All Blacks?”

“Sponsorship things, media things,” he explained. “One for the All Blacks, one personal one this week.” 

“So next Wednesday,” she said slowly, “you’ve got training until noon, then an autograph-signing session with the team, and then you fly to Auckland for a couple hours for—a TV interview?” She looked up, got the confirming nod. “And then you’re back here again in the evening, and training again Thursday morning. Wow. You
are
busy.”

She clicked again. Glanced at him, startled. Clicked some more, and looked at him again.

“What?” he asked. “What is it?” What had her looking like that? He tried to remember if she could be seeing anything dodgy on his calendar. No. Not possible. Because there wasn’t anything.

“Ally-D,” she read. “Sunday night. And I’m on there for the next day too, until one. All nicely filled in. And down here,” she clicked again, “on Thursday, we have Ally-S.”

She looked at him, the dark brows drawing down a little over the brown eyes, and he could almost feel himself squirm.

“I’m guessing,” she said slowly, “that Ally-D means you’re having dinner with me.”

“Yeh,” he said with relief. “That’d be it.”

“No Ally-B in either place,” she pointed out. “Presumably you think you can remember that we’ll have breakfast.”

“Yeh,” he said again with a smile.

“And,” she went on inexorably. “Ally-S? Don’t tell me, please don’t tell me that you’re calendaring sex with me.”

“When you put it like that,” he protested, “it sounds bad.”

“Well, yeah, it does,” she agreed, shoving the laptop back towards him. “What is it, a haircut? Are you telling me that unless it’s on your calendar, you wouldn’t remember? That you can’t hold that thought in your brain?”

“Nah, it’s not that,” he tried to explain. “Just that there’s a lot to do, and I can’t afford to forget. So I put down as much as possible. It’s just a habit.”

“Well, unless you take that
S
away,” she informed him, “you aren’t going to have to calendar it. Because it’s not going to be happening.”

“Geez,” he muttered, grabbing the laptop from her and pressing “delete” over the offending character. “I’d like to play the ‘Ally being quiet and obedient’ roleplaying game. When am I getting that one?”

He’d meant it as a joke, but found himself getting a little jolt at the thought. Looked at her, saw the shudder, her surefire sign of arousal. That had got her going too, had it?

“Hmm,” she said with a sigh, clearly reading his mind as he continued to look at her. “You probably
could
get that one. I seem to be pretty easy, sorry to say. I’m guessing that all you’d need to do would be to play the ‘Nate being an attentive boyfriend’ game, and I’d go for it.”

“What are you doing?” she asked as he began to type furiously again.

“Calendaring the texts I’m going to be sending you this week. And reminding myself to make another Logan Brown booking for Sunday. We didn’t finish dinner last time, eh.”

“And you want to make sure you get to eat all your steak? Nate . . .”

“Nah,” he said. “I want to tell you to leave your dinner this time. So we can play that game.”

Riding the Roller Coaster

“You really did book us in here again,” Ally said with pleasure as Nate pulled the car to the curb outside Logan Brown a week later, where the valet came forward to meet them.

 “What?” Nate asked in surprise. “You saw me calendar it.”

She waited until they were inside, seated at another intimate corner table, to continue the conversation. “So let’s see. If you calendar something, it happens? And if you don’t, it doesn’t?”

“That’s about it. Well,” he amended, “not quite, or I’d’ve calendared a win in Brissy yesterday.”

“Mmm,” she agreed. “I have a question about that, if you don’t mind answering it. Well, two questions.”

“If it’s two,” he decided, “we’d better order first.”

“Right,” he said a few minutes later. “Two questions.”

“Gosh, you’re efficient,” she marveled. “Do we have an agenda for this meeting?”

“Oh, yeh,” he said, and his eyes were warm on hers. “I’ve got an agenda. Think you know about that already, but I’ll be glad to run through the points for you later.”

She cleared her throat, shifted a little on the leather banquette. “One of my questions, actually. But it’s Question Two, so I’ll start with Question One. Since I know how orderly you like to be.”