Читать книгу Mills & Boon Showcase - Christy McKellen - Страница 12

CHAPTER SIX

SANDY SAT IN her guest room at Hotel Hideous, planning a new list. She shivered and hugged her arms to herself. The room was air conditioned to the hilt. There was no stinting on luxury in the modern, tasteful furnishings. She loved the dolphin motif that was woven into the bedcover and decorative pillows, and repeated discreetly on the borders of the curtains. And the view across the old harbour and the bay was beyond magnificent.

But it wasn’t a patch on the charm of the old guesthouse. Who could have believed the lovely building would come to such a tragic end? She shuddered at the thought of what Ben had endured. Was she foolish to imagine that he could ever get over his terrible losses? Ever be able to let himself love again?

She forced herself to concentrate as she turned a new page of her fairy notebook. The pretty pink pen had been relegated to the depths of her handbag. She didn’t have the heart to throw Amy’s gift in the bin, even though she could never use it again.

She still burned at the thought of not just Ben but Kate, Ida and who-knew-who-else seeing her with the hot pink stain on her mouth. It was hardly the sophisticated image she’d thought she was putting across. Thankfully, several minutes of scrubbing with a toothbrush had eliminated the stain.

But maybe the ink stain had, in a roundabout way, served a purpose. Thoughtfully, she stroked her lip with her finger, where Ben’s thumb had been. After all, hadn’t the stain induced Ben to break out of his self-imposed cage and actually touch her?

She took a pen stamped with the Hotel Harbourside logo—which, of course, incorporated a dolphin—from the desk in front of her and started to write—this time in regulation blue ink.

1. Reschedule birthday celebrations.

No.

Postpone indefinitely.

Was turning thirty, with her life such a mess, actually cause for celebration anyway? Maybe it was best left unmarked. She could hope for better next year.

2. Congratulate self for not thinking once about The Wedding.

She scored through the T and the W to make them lower case. It was her friends who had dramatised the occasion with capital letters. Her so-called friends who’d gone over to the dark side and accepted their invitations.

She could thank Ben’s aunt Ida for pushing all thoughts of That-Jerk-Jason and his lucrative trip down the aisle out of her mind.

Or—and she must be honest—was it really Ida who’d distracted her?

She realised she was gnawing the top of the pen.

3. Quit chewing on pens for once and for all. Especially pens that belong to first love.

First love now determined not even to be friends.

Which brought her to the real issue.

4. Forget Ben Morgan.

She stabbed it into the paper.

Forget the shivery delight that had coursed through her when his finger had traced the outline of her mouth. Forget how he’d looked when he had laughed—laughed at her crazy pink ink stain—forget the light in his eyes, the warmth of his smile. Forget the stupid, illogical hope that sprang into her heart when they joked together like in old times.

She slammed the notebook shut, sending glitter shimmering over the desk. Opened it again. She underscored the last words.

Then got on to the next item.

5. Visit Ida and get info on running bookshop.

She had to open Bay Books tomorrow and she didn’t have a clue what she should be doing. This was scary stuff.

She leaned back in her chair to think about the questions she should ask the older lady when the buzzer to her room sounded.

‘Who is it?’ she called out, slamming her notebook shut again in a flurry of glitter.

‘Ben.’

In spite of her resolutions her heart leaped at the sound of his voice. ‘Just give me a second,’ she called.

Her hands flew to her face, then smoothed her still-damp-from-the-shower hair. She tightened the belt on the white towelling hotel bathrobe. She ran her tongue around suddenly dry lips before she fumbled with the latch and opened the door.

Ben filled the doorway with his broad shoulders and impressive height. Her heart tripped into double time at the sight of him. He had changed into jeans and a blue striped shirt that brought out the colour of his eyes. Could any man be more handsome?

She stuttered out a greeting, noticed he held a large brown paper grocery bag in one hand.

He thrust the bag at her. ‘For you. I’m not good at gift wrapping.’

She looked from the bag up to him. ‘Gift wrapping?’

‘I feel bad your birthday turned out like this.’

‘This is a birthday gift?’

He shrugged. ‘A token.’

She flushed, pleased beyond measure at his thoughtfulness. ‘I like surprises. Thank you.’

Not sure what to expect, she delved into the bag. It was jam-packed with Snickers bars. ‘Ohmigod!’ she exclaimed in delighted disbelief.

He shifted from foot to foot. ‘You used to like them.’

She smiled at him. ‘I still do. They’re my favourite.’

She didn’t have the heart to add that when she was eighteen she’d been able to devour the chocolate bars by the dozen without gaining weight, but that at thirty they were an occasional indulgence.

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘You couldn’t have given me anything I’d like more.’

She wasn’t lying.

Ben’s thoughtfully chosen gift in a brown paper bag was way more valuable than any of the impersonal ‘must-have’ trinkets Jason had used to choose and have gift wrapped by the shop. Her last present from him had been an accessory for her electronic tablet that he had used more than she ever had.

Her heart swelled with affection for Ben. For wounded, difficult, vulnerable Ben.

She looked up at him, aching to throw her arms around him and kiss him. Kiss him for remembering her sweet tooth. Kiss him for the simple honesty of his brown-bagged gift. Kiss him for showing her that, deep down somewhere beneath his scars and defences, her Sir Galahad on a surfboard was still there.

But she felt too wary to do so. She wasn’t sure she could handle any more rejection in one day. His words echoed in her head and in her heart: ‘I don’t want you in Dolphin Bay.’

‘Thank you,’ she said again, feeling the words were totally inadequate to express her pleasure at his gesture.

He looked pleased with himself in a very male, tell-me-again-how-clever-I-was way she found endearing.

‘I bought all the shop had—which just happened to be thirty.’

She smiled up at him. ‘The shopkeeper must have thought you were a greedy pig with a desperate addiction to chocolate.’

‘Nah. They know chilli corn chips are more to my taste.’

She hugged the bag of chocolate bars to her chest. ‘So I won’t have to share? Because you might have to fight me for them.’

‘That makes you the greedy pig,’ he said. ‘They’re all yours.’ He stood still, looking deep into her eyes. ‘Happy birthday, Sandy.’

She saw warmth mixed with wariness—which might well be a reflection of what showed in her own eyes.

Silence fell between them. She was aware of her own quickened breathing over the faint hum of the air-conditioning. Felt intoxicated by the salty, so familiar scent of him.

Now.

Surely now was the moment to kiss him? Suddenly she desperately wanted to feel his mouth—that sexy, sexy mouth—on hers. To taste again the memory that had lingered through twelve years away from him.

She felt herself start to sway towards him, her lips parting, her gaze focusing on the blue eyes that seemed to go a deeper shade of blue as he returned her gaze. Her heart was thudding so loudly surely he could hear it.

But as she moved he tensed and took an abrupt step backwards.

She froze. Rejection again. When would she learn?

She stepped back too, so hastily she was in danger of tripping backwards into the room. She wrapped her robe tighter around her, focused on the list of hotel safety instructions posted by the door rather than on him. A flush rose up her neck to sting her cheeks.

She couldn’t think of a word to say.

After an excruciatingly uncomfortable moment Ben cleared his throat. ‘I’ve been sent on a mission from Aunt Ida to find and retrieve you and take you to the hospital to meet with her.’

Sandy swallowed hard, struggled to make her voice sound light-hearted. ‘Sounds serious stuff. Presumably an urgent briefing on the Bay Books project?’

He snapped his fingers. ‘Right first guess.’

She smiled, knowing it probably looked forced but determined to appear natural—not as if just seconds ago she’d been longing for his kiss.

‘Let me guess again. She’s getting anxious about filling me in on how it all works?’

‘Correct again,’ he said. ‘I promised to return with you ASAP to complete the mission.’

‘Funnily enough I have no other pressing social engagements in Dolphin Bay.’ She turned and started to walk back into the room, then stopped and looked back over her shoulder at him. ‘Do you want to come in while I get dressed?’

His glance went briefly to her open neckline. He cleared his throat. ‘Not a good idea.’

She blushed even redder and clutched the robe tighter. ‘I mean... I didn’t mean...’ she stuttered.

‘How about I come back to get you in half an hour?’

Her voice came out an octave higher. ‘Twenty minutes max will be fine. Where will you be if I’m ready earlier?’

‘Downstairs in my office.’

‘Pick me up in twenty, then.’

He turned to go.

She swallowed against the sudden tension in her throat. ‘Ben?’ she said.

He swung back to face her, a question on his face.

‘Thank you for the Snickers. I won’t say I’ll treasure them for ever, because they’ll be devoured in double quick time. But...thank you.’

‘You’re welcome,’ he said. ‘It was—’

Afterwards she wondered at the impulse that had made her forget all caution, all fear of rejection. Before she could think about whether it was a good thing or not to do, propelled by pure instinct, she leaned up on her bare toes and kissed him lightly on his cheek.

Then she staggered at the impact of his closeness, at the memories that came rushing back in a flood of heat and hormones. The feel of his beard-roughened cheek beneath her lips, the strength of his tightly muscled body, the out-and-out maleness of him. She clung to him, overwhelmed by nostalgia for the past, for when she’d had the right to hold him close. How could she ever have let go of that right?

His hands grasped her shoulders to steady her. She could feel their warmth on her skin through the thick cloth of her robe. Swiftly, he released her. He muttered something inarticulate.

Reeling, she lifted her head in response, saw the shutters come down over his eyes—but not before she’d glimpsed something she couldn’t read. It could have been passion but was more likely panic.

Bad, bad idea, Sandy, she berated herself. Even a chaste peck is too much for him to handle.

Too much for you to handle.

But no way was she was going to let herself feel ashamed of a friendly thank-you kiss. She was used to spontaneous expressions of affection between friends.

She forced her breath to steady, tilted her chin upwards. ‘See you in twenty,’ she said, praying he didn’t notice the tremor in her voice.

* * *

Ben stood back and watched as Sandy talked with his great-aunt in her room at the brand new Dolphin Bay Memorial Hospital. He might have known they would hit it off.

On doctor’s orders, Ida was lying flat on her back in her hospital bed. She’d been told she had to hold that position for six weeks to heal her cracked pelvis.

Sandy had pulled up a chair beside her and was chatting away as if she and Ida were old friends.

Why, although they were talking about authors and titles of favourite books, did he sense this instant alliance could mean trouble for him? Trouble not of the business kind—hell, there was nothing he couldn’t handle there—but a feminine kind of trouble he was not as well equipped to deal with.

Sandy was laughing and gesticulating with her hands as she spoke. His aunt was laughing too. It pleased him to see a warm flush vanquishing the grey tinge of pain from her face.

‘What do you think, Ben?’ Sandy asked.

‘Me?’

‘Yes. Who is the primary customer for Bay Books?’

He shrugged. ‘People off the boats looking for something to read? Retirees?’

His aunt nodded. ‘They’re important, yes. But I sell more books to the telecommuters than to anyone else. They’re crazy for book clubs. A book club gives them human contact as an antidote to the hours they spend working away on their computers, reporting to an office somewhere miles and miles away.’

Ben rubbed his hands together in simulated glee. ‘All those people fleeing the cities, making a sea-change to live on the coast—the lifeblood of commerce in Dolphin Bay. They’re buying land, building houses, and spending their socks off.’

Sandy wrinkled up her nose in the way he remembered so well. It was just as cute on her at thirty as it had been at eighteen.

‘That seems very calculating,’ she said.

‘What do you expect from the President of the Dolphin Bay Chamber of Commerce?’ said Aunt Ida, her voice dripping with the pride all his family felt at his achievement. ‘The town has really come on under his leadership.’

Sandy’s eyes widened. ‘You’re full of surprises, Ben.’

On that so expressive face of hers he could see her wondering how he’d come from fisherman’s son to successful businessman. Her father had judged him not good enough, not wealthy enough. He’d had no idea of how much land Ben’s family owned. And Sandy didn’t know how spurred on to succeed Ben had been by the snobby older man’s low opinion of him.

‘We have a lot to catch up on,’ she said.

No.

More than ever he did not want to spend more time than was necessary with Sandy, reviving old feelings that were best left buried.

She was modestly dressed now, in a neat-fitting T-shirt and a skirt of some floaty material that covered her knees. But she’d answered the door to him at the hotel wrapped in nothing more than a Hotel Harbourside bathrobe.

As she’d spoken to him the robe had slid open to reveal the tantalising shadow between her breasts. Her face had been flushed and her hair damp. It was obvious she’d just stepped out of the shower and the thought of her naked had been almost more than his libido could take.

Naked in one of his hotel bathrooms. Naked under one of his hotel’s bathrobes. It hadn’t taken much to take the thought a step further to her naked on one of his hotel’s beds. With the hotel’s owner taking passionate possession.

He’d had to grit his teeth and force his gaze to somewhere above her head.

When she’d kissed him it had taken every ounce of his iron-clad self-control not to take her in his arms and kiss her properly. Not on the cheek but claiming her mouth, tasting her with his tongue, exploring her sexy body with hungry hands. Backing her into the room and onto the bed.

No.

There’d be no catching up on old times. Or letting his libido lead him where he had vowed not to go.

He cleared his throat. ‘Isn’t this conversation irrelevant to you running the bookstore for Aunt Ida?’

Sandy met his gaze in a way that let him know she knew only too well he was steering the conversation away from anything personal.

‘Of course. You’re absolutely right.’

She turned to face the hospital bed.

‘Ida, tell me about any special orders.’ Then she looked back at him, her head at a provocative angle. Her eyes gleamed with challenge. ‘Is that better, Mr President?’

He looked to Ida for support, but her eyes narrowed as she looked from him to Sandy and back again.

It was starting. The speculation about him and Sandy. The gossip. And it looked as if he couldn’t count on his aunt for support in his battle to protect his heart.

In fact she looked mighty pleased at the prospect of uncovering something personal between him and her temporary manager.

‘You can tell me more about your past friendship with Sandy some other time, nephew of mine,’ she said.

Sandy looked as uncomfortable as he felt, and had trouble meeting his gaze. ‘Can we get back to talking about Bay Books, Ida?’ she asked.

His aunt laughed. ‘Back to the not nearly so interesting topic of the bookshop? Okay, my dear, have you got something you can take some notes in? The special orders can get complicated.’

Looking relieved, Sandy dived into her handbag. She pulled out a luminous pink notebook and with it came a flurry of glitter that sparkled in the shafts of late-afternoon sun falling on his aunt’s hospital bed.

‘Sorry about the mess,’ she said, biting down on her bottom lip as the particles settled across the bedcovers.

Ida seemed mesmerised by the glitter. ‘It’s not mess, it’s fairy dust!’ she exclaimed, clapping her hands with delight. Her still youthful blue eyes gleamed. ‘Oh, this is wonderful, isn’t it, Ben? Sandy will bring magic to Dolphin Bay. I just know it!’

Ben watched the tiny metallic particles as they glistened on the white hospital sheets. Saw the pleasure in his aunt’s shrewd gaze, the gleam of reluctant laughter in Sandy’s eyes.

‘Magic? Well, it did come from my fairy notebook,’ she said.

Something called him to join in their complicity, to believe in their fantasy.

Hope he’d thought long extinguished struggled to revive itself. Magic? Was it magic that Sandy had brought with her? Magic from the past? Magic for the future? He desperately wanted to believe that.

But there was no such thing as magic. He’d learnt that on a violently blazing day five years ago, when he had been powerless to save the lives of his family.

He would need a hell of a lot more than some so-called fairy dust to change his mind.