Читать книгу Red-Hot Honeymoon: The Honeymoon Arrangement / Marriage in Name Only? / The Honeymoon That Wasn't - Debbi Rawlins, Anne Oliver - Страница 12

CALLIE LEFT AWELFOR and headed directly to Simon’s Town, the pretty town to the east of the city of Cape Town. Her father had set up a branch of his sea kayaking tours there after handing over the family property business to Seb. Patch loved his life as a kayak guide and tour operator. Like her, he was vivacious and open; if she had any charm at all she’d inherited it all from him.

Callie sat on the low wall that separated the promenade from the beach and watched Patch converse with his customers while his assistants unloaded the kayaks from the trailer that he’d driven onto the beach. He was still tall and broad and handsome—quite a silver fox, Callie thought. Thank God he’d finally given up dating vapid and beautiful women—mostly younger than her—and was about to marry a woman his own age.

He and Annie seemed to be blissfully happy, and after what Laura and the crazy gold-diggers had put him through she was happy for him. He deserved to be loved and loved well. And, judging by the perpetual grin he was sporting lately, Annie loved him very well indeed.

Callie let out a whistle that Patch had taught her as a kid and Patch instantly turned, his fantastic smile lighting up his face. She might have had a screwed-up childhood, and maybe Patch hadn’t been the perfect father, but it had been a very long time since she’d doubted that he loved her. He was one of her best friends and the strongest rope keeping the balloon that was her life tethered to the ground.

Patch bounded across the sand and immediately pulled her into his arms, warm and strong. She buried her head in his neck, sucked in the smell of him and felt her tilting world settle down. Patch ran a hand over her hair before kissing her temple and stepping away from her to sit on the wall next to her.

‘Seb told you, huh?’

‘Yeah.’ She suddenly remembered that her mother had been his wife and wondered how he was handling the news. ‘How do you feel about her returning?’

Patch shrugged. ‘Doesn’t mean much to me except for how it affects you and Seb.’

Callie sank her bare feet into the warm sand and wiggled her toes. She bit the side of her lip and stared out to sea. ‘I’m running away …’

Patch cocked his head. ‘You are? Where to?’

‘Well, it’s not quite settled, but there’s this guy and he needs a—a friend to go on a trip with him.’

‘Uh-huh?’

‘He seems nice, and he’s just gone through a rough time, and we seem to like each other …’ Callie waved her hands in the air. ‘Not as … you know … but I think we could be friends … He needs a friend.’

‘Most of us do,’ Patch agreed. ‘And you want to avoid seeing Laura.’

Callie waited a beat before turning anxious eyes to his face. ‘Am I wrong? Should I be meeting her?’

Patch ran his hand over his jaw. ‘Honey, for the last ten years, ever since you totalled your car at a thousand miles an hour, I have trusted you to do the right thing—not for me but for yourself. I still trust you to do that.’ He reached for her hand and held it. ‘That thing we call intuition? That little voice? It’s your soul talking. You can trust it.’

‘My intuition is telling me to go on this trip with Finn.’

‘Then do it,’ Patch said, before frowning. ‘Wait—is this Rowan’s client? The travel writer?’

‘Mmm.’

Patch smiled broadly. ‘Tell him to come kayaking with me—maybe he’ll do an article on the tours.’

Callie had to smile. Her dad was her rock, but he was never shy about putting himself forward. Ah, well, she thought as she sat with him in the morning sun, you don’t get apples from orange trees.

Callie buzzed Finn through the gates of her complex in Camps Bay and walked onto the wide veranda that encompassed most of her second-storey luxury flat. She leaned her arms on the railing, watching as he steered his expensive SUV into her visitor’s parking space. He left his vehicle and Callie watched as he stretched, his T-shirt riding up his abdomen to reveal a ridged stomach that had to be an eight or ten-pack and the hint of make-women-stupid obliques.

She did appreciate a fine-looking man, Callie thought, and they didn’t come much finer than Finn Banning. Sexy, and also very successful She’d researched him and read that he had been an award-winning investigative journalist before switching to travel journalism, where he was raking in the praise.

What had really gone wrong with his engagement? Why had they called it off? Why would any woman walk away from that?

Maybe there was something about Finn Banning that she didn’t know yet—and that worried her. Especially if she was considering spending three weeks in his company.

After she’d called him from Awelfor she’d spent ten minutes convincing him that she wasn’t joking about being his ‘wife’ and avoiding his probing questions around why she’d changed her mind. She’d ended the conversation with the suggestion that if he still thought that taking her along was a good idea he should pop by for a drink at sunset.

And here he was—still hot, still sexy, still sad and still, apparently, wifeless.

He was her get-out-of-the-country card. Okay, the truth was that she didn’t need him to go anywhere—she had enough cash at her disposal to go anywhere she wanted. But since she was taking a month’s holiday at very short notice wherever she went she would be going alone. Normally she wouldn’t mind being alone, but at the moment she needed a distraction from her thoughts—from thinking about Laura.

She’d thought she’d buried those feelings of betrayal and abandonment but apparently it only took the knowledge that Laura was heading home to pull them all back up to the surface.

If she went anywhere alone she’d think and wallow and feel sad and miserable. But if she went with Finn she’d have a sexy man to distract her; she’d have to be happy and flirty and … well, herself.

She could shove all thoughts of Laura back into the box they’d escaped from.

Finn pulled off his sporty sunglasses and held them in his hand as he looked around the complex, eventually seeing her number on the front wall. He rubbed the back of his neck as he stopped a couple of feet from her door—a gesture that told Callie he wasn’t totally comfortable with this idea and was thinking of backing out.

‘Finn … hi.’ She leaned over the balcony to look down at him, not aware that she was giving him a super-excellent view of her hot pink lace-covered breasts. ‘The door is open. Come on up the stairs and hang a left. It’s too gorgeous an evening to be inside.’

Finn nodded and walked through the front door. She heard the thud of the door closing behind him, and his rapid footsteps told her that he was jogging up the stairs. Through the wooden patio doors she saw him entering her lounge, looking around at the eclectic furniture and her wild, colourful abstract art. He dropped his glasses, mobile and keys on her coffee table and looked at her across the room.

His eyes caught hers and a small smile played on his lips. ‘Hello, possible fake wife.’

Callie laughed, immediately at ease. What was it about him that instantly had her relaxing? She felt she’d known him a lot longer than she had.

She watched as Finn stopped, as everyone always did, at the wall of photo frames. She watched his eyes skim over the photographs, quickly taking in her history—her journey from being a daredevil kid to a daredevil teenager to who she was today, whoever that was.

Finn spent more time than people usually did staring at the photos, eventually turning to look at her, his eyebrows raised. ‘You’re up a tree.’

‘I frequently was.’

He pointed to a frame. ‘You look like you’re about forty feet up.’

She grinned. ‘Forty-two feet—my dad measured it after his heart restarted.’ She shrugged and waved her wine glass around. ‘They told me not to climb it, so I did.’

‘How old were you?’

‘Five? Six? Somewhere around there.’

‘You must have been a handful.’

‘You have no idea. I thought I was indestructible. I had zero sense of self-preservation and was willing to try anything once—or four times. And if my brother was giving something a whirl—well, I would too. Surfing, diving, climbing, skateboarding, cycling …’

‘And I thought I was a hellraiser. Your mum must have pulled her hair out,’ Finn said, walking towards her.

Callie swallowed and looked away. Her mum had let her run wild—not particularly worried that Callie might crack her head open or break a limb. She would just shake her head before disappearing into her bedroom and locking the door behind her.

Then one day, a couple of weeks after her seventh birthday, she’d disappeared for ever.

Finn stepped out onto the veranda, gratefully taking the beer she held out to him. She dropped into the corner of her fat couch and tucked her bare feet up and under her bottom, gesturing to Finn to take a seat. When he’d sat down in the chair next to her he looked out at the sea view and the dropping sun and sighed.

‘Nice place. How long have you lived here?’

‘I bought it about five years ago. I love it, but I’m seldom home,’ Callie explained, picking up her wine glass and taking a sip. She turned and looked at his profile, strong in the fading light of the day.

‘So what’s happened that you’re suddenly available to come travelling?’ Finn asked. ‘And why are your eyes red-rimmed and puffy?’

Damn, that cosmetics rep had so lied. The eye cream that had cost the equivalent of a small house did not suck away the bags of fluid left there by a massive crying jag.

Callie couldn’t meet his eyes. Mostly because she felt her own prickling with tears again and she never cried in company—especially not around sexy, fit men. ‘It’s not important.’

Finn shook his head. ‘I suspect it’s very damn important to you.’ Then he lifted one broad shoulder. ‘But, since I hate people prying, I’ll leave you with your secrets.’

Thank you, she thought sarcastically, a little put out that he hadn’t pushed. Did that mean that she actually wanted to tell him her sad tale of maternal neglect? Blergh—she didn’t do sob stories. Especially her own.

Callie pulled herself out of her funk and tilted her head. ‘So, it turns out that I can be free for the next four weeks or so. Do you want to explain your crazy proposal to me again?’

Finn stretched out his long legs, which ended in a pair of battered trainers. ‘As I explained, I landed an assignment to write an article on upmarket lodges, focusing on the honeymoon aspect of said lodges. The magazine is Europe-based, a leader in its field, it has a huge readership and it’s a plum assignment.’

‘Of course it is.’

Finn was hot property—he wouldn’t be writing for just any old magazine.

‘With the wedding imploding I either have to give up the assignment or find someone to go with me.’

‘As your wife?’

‘As my editor said, nobody is going to ask for proof of my marriage. If I take someone who looks reasonably happy to be there with me I think I can get by without having to explain that the wedding was called off two weeks before the big day,’ Finn said, his voice even but his expression pensive. ‘I really don’t want to give up the opportunity to get my foot in the door with Go Travel; they have a bunch of staff writers and rarely issue assignments to freelancers.’

But they did to you.

As she’d thought: hot property, indeed. And not just as a writer. The man had a body that you could strike tinder off.

Callie resisted the urge to fan her face with her hand as a bead of sweat trickled down her spine. Yes, it was summer in Cape Town, but her hot flush had nothing to do with the evening heat and everything to do with imagining him naked above her, his fabulous eyes locked on hers as he pushed himself home. She’d be tight and he’d be big, and he’d reach that special spot deep inside and rock her to screaming …

‘Callie?’

Finn’s voice pulled her out of her side trip into fantasy land and she waved a hand in front of her face, knowing that her cheeks were fire-red. ‘Wow, it’s so hot out here.’

‘Actually, a cool breeze has picked up and the temperature has dropped a couple of degrees,’ Finn countered, sending her a knowing smile. At least she thought it was knowing—for all she knew he could be thinking that she was loopy.

She fumbled for her wine and downed half a glass before resting it on her cheek.

‘You okay?’

Just peachy, trying to deal with the fact that you are the first man I can imagine sleeping with for far too long.

‘Fine.’

Liar, liar, womb on fire….

‘Anyway, back to your trip. When are you supposed to arrive at your first destination? Where is the first destination?’

‘The Baobab and Buffalo Lodge, which is on a private concession next to the Kruger National Park. We’re booked in for a few nights.’

Holy fishcakes—when they said ‘upmarket’ they meant upmarket. Callie knew that the Baobab and Buffalo Lodge was booked solidly for years at a time. It was a six-star safari experience all the way.

Callie leaned forward, her eyes uncharacteristically serious. ‘Cards on the table, Finn. What exactly does it entail? What do you expect from me?’

A ghost of a smile flitted over Finn’s face. ‘All it entails is you hanging out at expensive lodges and hotels, taking part in some of the activities, eating yourself into a coma and drinking yourself under the table. All on my expense account.’

‘And the cons?’

‘You have to do all of that with me.’ Finn placed his ankle on his knee and picked at the label of his beer bottle. ‘I’d like someone I can talk to—someone I could have fun with … someone who I know is not going to go all hearts and flowers on me, thinking that this will be the start of something special. I am in no way, shape or form looking to extend this beyond the holiday, nor looking for anything more than a friendship.’

Okay, she could understand that. Everybody needed time to regroup after a break-up, and of course he didn’t want to get involved. And she was perfect for that as she didn’t go hearts and flowers on any man, ever. And she was fun.

Well, she hadn’t been fun for a while, but that was going to change. She’d pull herself out of her funk and go back to being the old, crazy, happy, party-like Callie.

She needed to be that Callie again.

Callie cocked her head. Time to pull out the big guns. ‘And this fun. Where does it stop? In other words, are you expecting sex out of this deal?’

Finn’s light eyes bumped into hers. ‘It would be a nice side benefit but not a deal-breaker.’

Callie heard the honesty in his words and tone but thought she should just make sure. ‘So I could still go with you and not be pressurised into having sex with you?’

Honesty had her silently admitting that she probably would—old Callie wouldn’t have hesitated!—but she’d prefer to have it out in the open.

‘Making me repeat it in another way isn’t going to make my words more true. But if it makes you happy …’ Finn lifted that broad shoulder again. ‘Sex—if it happens—will be a bonus, not an expectation. And totally without strings.’

Callie nibbled the inside of her lip, desperately trying to be sensible. She couldn’t believe that she was seriously considering his offer, but on the other hand how often did the opportunity to visit such wonderful places in luxury—for free!—fall into one’s lap?

How often did a person get the chance to do something so different on someone else’s dime? That would be never. She’d be a fool to pass this up.

But she wasn’t an idiot. She had to be marginally sensible about this. She was thinking about going on holiday with a stranger—a man she’d met twice. If he turned out to be a psycho she would be at his mercy, neck-deep in a situation that might become very sticky, very fast.

But he didn’t give off any creepy vibes, and she had pretty good intuition. It’s your soul talking … you can trust it. She suspected he was exactly what he appeared to be: a guy who’d had the emotional carpet yanked from underneath his feet; battered, who was bruised and trying to find his feet, to regroup.

But was she prepared to risk her life on her intuition?

‘I’ll need character references.’ she blurted out, hoping that he would understand that she needed to protect herself. ‘Just to make sure that you aren’t a weird psycho. I can give you references too, if you want.’

At that, Finn did smile—possibly the fullest and most genuine smile she’d yet to see from him. ‘Nah, I’m good. I already know that you’re slightly psycho,’ he teased.

‘Funny …’ Callie muttered, although in truth he was. It was a relief to realise that behind that gruff, stoic exterior was an offbeat sense of humour. When you travelled with someone a GSOH was the minimum requirement.

Callie put down her glass of wine and linked her fingers around her bare knee. ‘Are you sure about this, Finn? You don’t know me. After two days with me, you might want to shoot me.’

Finn lifted the beer bottle to his lips, took a long sip and swallowed. ‘If we were at a resort and I had to say to you that I wanted some time alone, some quiet, what would you do?’

Callie thought for moment. ‘I’d find something to do—go hang out by the pool, read my book, flirt with the barman. I’d give you your space.’

‘And if I said let’s go bungee jumping or white-water rafting?’

‘I’d say go on your own,’ Callie replied quickly. She held up her hand and looked at him askance. ‘Is me being a thrill-seeker part of the requirement? Because if it is then I might have to bail now. You might be Indiana Jones, but I’m not a run-through-the-jungle-barefoot type of girl.’

She had been at one time. Right up until her late teens—until her car accident—she’d tried anything wild or woolly once … probably twice.

Finn’s mouth twitched with amusement as he glanced towards the photos on the wall before looking back at her. ‘Fair enough. You might change your mind.’

No, she wouldn’t. He could take that to the bank.

‘You have a better chance of falling pregnant,’ Callie quipped before turning serious again. ‘Look, Finn, I’m honoured and flattered that you’ve asked me to go with you, but this will only work if you feel you can be honest with me, that you can treat me like you were taking a mate with you.’ Her brows pulled together. ‘Why aren’t you taking a friend with you? Surely you have someone you could ask?’

‘You keep forgetting the honeymoon angle.’ Finn pushed his hand through his short curls. ‘The magazine is paying through the nose for me to do this, and there is no way they will allow me to go on my own or with a mate. They were expecting me to go with my wife, at the very least my girlfriend, at the very, very least with a woman.’ Finn placed his beer on the wooden coffee table between them. ‘So what do you think? Yes? No? Hell, no?’ Finn raised a solid black eyebrow.

Callie nodded. ‘I think so.’ She slowly answered him. ‘Let me have a bit more of a think.’

Why was she hesitating, being coy about this? She wanted, needed, to get out of Cape Town, and Finn was offering her a brilliant way to do that. She found him easy to talk to, he seemed to like her, and she was attracted to him.

What was holding her back?

Exactly that, she realised. The fact that she was so immensely attracted to him. Nobody had ever created such an intense longing in her and that made her wary … a little scared. If she were less drawn to him she wouldn’t have any doubts and she’d be packing her bags already.

You are so weird, Hollis, Callie told herself. Fruitcake nuts.

‘I’d love to know what is going through that very sharp brain of yours, Callie.’

There was no chance of her telling him what she was thinking. I know that you were about to be married, and that you’re probably hurting and missing your fiancée, but I’d really like to have you leaning over me, sliding on home …

She didn’t think so.

On the other hand she really didn’t want to be someone’s backstop. If Finn was making love to her then she wanted him to be with her, thinking of her and not of the lover he’d lost. She wasn’t prepared to be his escape, his emotional aspirin, a distraction from the pain. She’d be his friend, but if he made love to her then it would be because he wanted her.

While she was prepared to be a fake wife, she refused to be a second choice or a substitute lover. Maybe if she knew why he was so suddenly single she would have a better idea of how emotionally battered he really was. And the only way to get that information was to ask.

‘Why did your engagement blow up?’

Finn glared at her. ‘You are like a dog with a freakin’ bone. Do you ever give up?’

Innate honesty compelled her to speak. ‘No.’

Callie stared at him with big eyes as he stood up, walked around the table and gripped the arms of her chair, caging her in. Callie sucked in air and along with it the masculine, indefinable essence of Finn. A kick of spice, a hint of citrus, a tiny bit of natural musk. The hair on her arms and on the back of her neck stood up and she felt her skin prickle as his eyes locked on hers.

‘Are you always this stubborn?’

Callie shook her head. ‘Sorry to tell you that I haven’t even hit stubborn yet.’

‘Crap. Well, let’s see if a little distraction will work,’ Finn replied, his voice silky. ‘And if my kisses don’t distract you at least they’ll get you to shut the hell up …’

Callie sucked in her breath as his mouth brushed her lips. Harder, thinner, masculine lips that knew exactly what they were doing as he nipped and teased her mouth. His hand came up to clasp the side of her head and he tipped her face sideways. Then his kiss deepened and his mouth became more insistent, asking—no, demanding—more.

‘Kiss me, Callie. Open up and let me taste you,’ he muttered against her lips.

Callie couldn’t do anything but obey—didn’t have the thought processes to do anything but follow where he led.

Instead of plunging inside, forcing its way in, his smart tongue explored her bottom lip, teased the corners of her mouth, deliberately avoided tangling with hers.

Frustrated with his teasing, Callie pushed against his chest and, keeping her mouth locked on his, found her way to her feet, looping her arms around his back and pushing into his hard frame. Breast against chest, stomach against his steel erection, mouth under his. Needing more, she pushed her tongue into his mouth, sliding it against his and taking the kiss from hot to steamy to erotic, from wild to crazy.

His hands raced down her back, palmed her butt and lifted her up and into him. Her legs automatically wound around him and she tipped her hips so that his erection could rub her clit as his kisses—God, was it possible?—got deeper and steamier.

She wanted more … she needed more … This was just sex, lust! Six months was far too damn long, Callie realised from a place way, way outside of herself. She needed him—Finn—now.

Her hands were sliding down the back of his shorts, trying to feel that magnificent ass she’d been fantasising about, when Finn pulled his mouth off hers. He lifted his hand from the inside of her bra and one arm kept her anchored in place. He brushed her hair off her cheek and tucked it behind her ears. He looked rueful.

Callie felt her feet touch the floor and she held on to his arm to make sure that she wouldn’t topple over.

‘Ah … um … what was that?’

‘God knows. But, after that I guess sex is closer to being on the table than before.’

Finn stepped away from her, seemingly unconcerned that he still had a steel pipe in his pants.

His words dumped a figurative bucket of cold water over her head. What was it about him? He just had to touch her and she was under his spell, ready to go where he led. She never lost control in a sexual situation—her head was always in the game.

‘That’s why I’m wary,’ Callie admitted eventually, unable to stop licking her bottom lip, hoping the taste of him lingered there.

Finn’s black brows pulled together. ‘Sorry—lost you. What?’

‘We have a hectic attraction. It could blow up in our faces,’ Callie explained. ‘It could burn hot and die fast, and if that happens while we’re on holiday then we’d be up the creek without a paddle.’

Finn jammed his hands in the pockets of his shorts. ‘We’ll be together for three weeks. Do you normally lose interest that quickly?’

Sometimes, Callie wanted to admit. But with him she was more worried about feeling something deeper than basic lust than finding herself bored. Bored, she could fake her way through, but he intrigued her; he was a puzzle she longed to solve and that rarely … okay, never happened to her. And if she was this attracted to him—physically and mentally—so soon, then spending twenty-four-seven with him might make her feel so much more.

Dangerous.

Callie stepped away and held up her palms. Okay, get a grip and shut this down before it goes any further. Get you head in the game, Hollis. Someone has to be sensible here and it looks like you’ve drawn the short straw.

‘Finn, I get that you’re hurting, that you need a distraction from your crappy life. You’ve just broken up with your fiancée and that’s got to be seriously painful.’

And I’m using you to escape dealing with my mother.

Finn just folded his arms and kept his face blank.

‘You should know that I never treat sex casually, that I am very selective about who I bring into my bed.’

‘Okay. Good to know.’

Callie blew out her breath. ‘And you should also know that I’m not going to be your means of escaping that pain.’ And, conversely, I’m not going to use you to escape my memories.

Finn frowned. ‘Lost you. Explain.’

She waved her hand in the space between them. ‘We obviously generate some heat between us, and I have no doubt that sleeping with you would be fun, but we can’t ignore the fact that until recently you were in a highly committed relationship. That relationship came to a skidding halt and pretty much went over a cliff. Fair to say that?’

Finn shrugged. ‘I suppose.’

‘So, to carry on with that analogy, I’m not going to sleep with you until I am fully convinced that you have come out of that coma and are mostly recovered. I’m not a way to dull the pain.’

Finn stared at her for a long time, his green eyes speculative. Eventually, ever so slightly, his mouth lifted at the corners. ‘This isn’t all about me and my relationship, is it? You’re also running from something—or someone.’

Maybe. Possibly. Okay, dammit, yes.

‘And that’s why you’ve been crying.’ Finn rubbed his jaw with the palm of his hand. After a long silence he lifted his muscled shoulders in a weary shrug. ‘Look, Callie, I’m probably not ever going to tell you about the mess that was my almost-marriage, but would you think I was spinning a line to get into your pants if I said that I’m not that heartbroken? That I’m sad but also relieved?’

She heard something that sounded like the ring of truth in his voice but she didn’t know him well enough to trust him. ‘Maybe you’re just telling yourself that to make it easier to cope with. People love to lie to themselves.’ She saw Finn’s mouth open to start his protest but she shook her head to stop him. ‘Look, Finn, let’s just take it slow, okay? One day at a time, as friends and companions. Let’s not force it, okay?’

He looked as if he wanted to argue, but then she saw him swallowing his words, saw his nod.

‘Yeah, okay, I suppose that’s sensible.’

Finn lifted his hand to brush her cheek with the backs of his fingers. Callie could only look at him, her blood roaring through her veins and pooling between her legs. If he didn’t go soon she was going to forget any doubts she had and drag him to the floor.

‘That being said, I’m going to go.’

Callie licked her lips as her brain tried to restart. ‘Um … okay.’ Him going would be a very good idea.

‘You’ll let me know your decision? As soon as possible? Like tomorrow?’

Callie handed him a blank look. ‘Uh … what decision?’

Finn grinned. ‘About being my fake wife?’

Callie blushed. God, her brains were fried. ‘Sure, as soon as possible.’

She opened her mouth to add a blanket yes to whatever he wanted, wherever he wanted, as long as he would kiss her like that again. At the last minute her rationality kicked in and mentally slapped her to bring her to her senses.

‘I’ll see you out.’

‘Don’t bother.’

Finn stepped towards her, dropped a quick kiss on her temple before heading inside and picking up his wallet, keys and mobile. He turned and looked at her, and the corner of his mouth kicked up.

‘Yeah, I think you and I could have some fun. And, Cal?’

‘Mmm?’

‘No more crying, okay?’