All day Flick’s mind ran on dual tracks, but, try as she might, anticipation about spending the night with Xander caught her at odd moments. His invitation to stay had come out of the blue. Did it have more to do with the emotional rollercoaster he’d been riding yesterday, or was it a reaction to suppressing outward demonstrations of affection in public?
The wooden spoon slowed and stopped in the middle of the saucepan as she replayed last night’s kisses. Yes—he’d needed her, but need didn’t explain the heat and passion zapping between them. Her fingers rose to touch her lips.
‘Flick, your sauce has caught.’ Christophe raised an eyebrow. ‘Is everything okay?’
Her gaze flew to the contents of the saucepan. The sauce should have been pale lemon; a mid-brown goop silently accused her. ‘Sorry, chef. I’ll start over.’
‘Bien.’ With no further comment, he set a bowl of fresh butter beside the burner and took down a clean saucepan for her before continuing his rounds. Unlike the tortes she could almost make in her sleep, they were so familiar to her, helping out with some of Jake’s work while he was on sick leave required a more conscious awareness. She made damned sure to keep an eye on the new sauce the second time around and moved the saucepan off the gas burner as soon as the colour was achieved before moving on to the next task.
By the time the crying chef clock showed it was the end of her shift, she barely had time to wash her hair for her date with Xander. As she dried her hair with the towel, her phone vibrated on the table. Xander’s name appeared on the screen and she grabbed the phone.
‘I had a thought. Would you like to have dinner on the beach? I can order fish and chips from the café and we can find ourselves a slice of sand. What do you think?’
Flick looked through the window. The sun had set and muted tones of pink and purple above the trees were fading as she stood there, phone pressed to her ear. She hesitated a moment, but the chance of being seen was slight.
‘Okay, I’ll meet you at the beach.’
‘Great. How about up near the northern arm of the headland in half an hour?’
‘See you there.’ She pressed the end call button and stood by the window, tapping the phone against her hand. Meeting Xander without Jenny and outside his apartment felt just a little bit dangerous.
Dangerous and delicious.
Jenny’s holiday had been the reason for their horse ride, and Flick’s presence unremarkable. Most staff knew of Jenny’s daily cooking lessons with Flick, but now, anyone seeing them together would guess they were on a date.
A drop of water ran down her back and she shivered in the air-conditioned cool of her quarters. Meeting Xander on the beach was pushing the rules she’d laid down to the limit. Was she a fool to risk being seen with him?
***
The sand retained some warmth from the day as Flick stepped from the cover of the trees towards a carefully controlled spill of light. A shadowy figure leaned back on his arms on a picnic blanket, legs stretched towards the water. There was no way she’d have known who was sitting on the beach if she hadn’t been meeting Xander. His choice of location and lighting were well thought out and quashed her fears of being recognised.
Her footsteps squeaked with each step through the sand. Xander looked around at the sound and jumped to his feet as she approached. ‘Hi. They were quicker than I expected cooking the fish and chips. I hope they aren’t cold.’
‘I’m sure they’ll be fine.’ She looked around before sitting and tugging his hand to join her. The thick bandage had gone, replaced by a heavy-duty material waterproof plaster. ‘You picked a nice spot. And I like your choice of lighting.’
Now she was next to it she could see the light came from an old-fashioned shutter lantern. ‘Where on earth did you find this? It’s wonderful.’
‘In an antique store in Coffs Harbour. I had it converted to run off a small gas cylinder. I thought you might like the atmosphere it creates.’ He reached for a cardboard box containing a white paper-wrapped package. A grease patch showed on the bottom as he unwrapped their dinner and set it on the blanket in front of the light. ‘Dinner is served.’
‘Thanks.’
The fish was barramundi, and the chips weren’t quite hot, but Flick licked her fingers when she finished. She wrapped the scraps and followed Xander to the water’s edge to wash her hands.
‘It’s lovely down here away from the rest of humanity.’ She flicked water from her hands and patted them dry on her jeans.
Threading his fingers through hers, Xander settled his other hand on her hip. His touch set off a bone-deep desire that fluttered and trembled between her thighs. She stepped closer, pressing her body against his, her lips against his mouth. A salty kiss, a sea-kiss, the sort that could lead to sand in her shorts and fresh-washed hair.
She didn’t care about either.
Xander drew in a deep breath and held her shoulders. ‘Would you like to walk along the beach before we head back to the apartment? I need a few minutes before we head back.’
She tipped her head back. Stars shone brightly in the sky and the gentle whoosh of waves on the sand soothed her soul as she tried to read his expression in the darkness. Feeling for Xander’s hand on her hip, she took hold of it and walked backwards, pulling him along. ‘I’d like that.’
The tide was on the turn and waves lapped her ankles as they reached the nearest rocks on the headland. Xander set both hands on her waist and steadied her as she climbed onto the largest rock before climbing up beside her. She edged closer until their thighs touched and he dropped an arm around her shoulders. It wasn’t that she was nervous about returning to his apartment. All day she’d been looking forward to the night with him.
There was something very appealing about conducting a clandestine affair with Xander. Skirting on the edge of doing something daring gave her a sense of control and choice. And knowing what lay ahead, drawing out the anticipation …
Control and choice were her new addictions.
***
Xander’s apartment was different without Jenny’s presence. The door to the second bedroom stood wide open, the lounge lights were dimmed, and Xander took her in his arms as soon as the front door closed behind them.
Their previous kisses had been on the balcony, when his sister was asleep. Flick turned her face up and wrapped her arms around his neck. ‘What are you waiting for?’
He looked into her eyes. ‘Just appreciating how powerful an aphrodisiac anticipation can be.’ His words vibrated through her chest, his breath skated over her cheek.
‘It’s torture of a kind, a sort of pleasure-pain.’ She felt it too, the kick of desire, the certainty she was about to leap from the highest cliff into the sea below. Taking their relationship to the next level felt natural—and momentous. ‘Do you have a cure?’
‘Definitely. Let me kiss it better.’ He trailed a line of kisses from her ear to her mouth, lightly nipped her lower lip.
She nipped him back and then soothed his lip with a slide of her tongue.
His hands slid under her T-shirt, lifted it over her head, nudging her backwards towards the master bedroom.
She pulled his shirt out of his jeans, ran her hands over the warm skin of his abdomen, undid the buttons. A trail of clothes lay behind him, leading to his bed. They fell onto it.
He tucked her hair behind her ear, his touch tender and determined at the same time. ‘Now let me see what I can do to turn your pain into pleasure.’
***
In the early light of dawn, Xander woke and reached for Flick. Feeling nothing but faint lingering warmth on the other side of the bed, he sat up. ‘Flick, where are you?’
A thin line of light showed beneath the door of the ensuite and he leaned back against the headboard. Moments later the light went out and he heard the soft click of the door opening.
‘I thought you’d left while I was asleep.’ He reached for the switch of the bed lamp and turned on the soft light.
Flick gasped and froze, one hand on her throat. ‘Sheesh, you know how to startle a woman.’
Dressed in the outfit she’d worn last night, her sandals dangled from one hand. Her eyes met his and quickly dropped.
Disappointment creased his forehead, curled in his stomach. ‘You were going to slip away, weren’t you?’
‘Yes. It’s easier this way.’
‘I’d hoped to have breakfast with you.’
She edged towards the door. ‘Maybe next time. I should get back to my room before—’
‘Before anyone is around to see you.’ He threw the sheet back and swung his legs over the side of the bed. ‘Let me at least make you coffee before you go.’
She held up a hand, the one with the sandals hooked over her thumb. They swung as she opened the door. ‘Don’t get up. I’m fine, really. Thank you for a lovely night. I enjoyed—everything.’ She stepped into the living area and closed the bedroom door behind her.
Xander rounded the bed and pulled the door open in time to hear the front door clicking closed. He could catch her before the lift arrived, but to what end? Accepting her condition they gave no public indication of being together meant agreeing to clandestine dates.
Meeting on the beach last night had been fun and had given him an excuse to use the shutter lantern. It had been romantic and mysterious. He’d enjoyed it. And she’d stayed and shared his bed as he’d hoped.
He ran a hand through his hair and headed into the kitchen. There was no point going back to bed. He looked through the balcony doors at the silhouettes of nodding palm trees against the early dawn sky. Sleep had vanished, along with Flick.
For the first time, the consequences of his lifestyle hit him smack in the face, full force.
Did the women he’d made love to in casual hook-ups and brief affairs feel this sense of disappointment when they woke to find him gone?
I don’t like this feeling—this emotion or whatever the hell it is—at all.
He made coffee, black and strong, and carried it out onto the balcony. He took his first sip; it was strong enough to sear the hairs in his nostrils but nowhere near strong enough to still his confusion.
Self-reflection wasn’t something he usually contemplated. Navel gazing, he’d called it when his mother suggested it wouldn’t do him any harm. Give him a column of figures and a set of business scenarios and he could analyse them to a sound conclusion.
But Flick’s abrupt departure threw him. It wasn’t just because he had always been the one to leave, the one in control of the situation, although if he were honest, it felt a bit like being dumped. He leaned on the railing and sipped the coffee. A wash of pale light hung above the dark water, growing brighter by the minute.
Last night he’d fallen asleep expecting to wake beside Flick, to sit across from her at breakfast and watch the day dawn. He’d looked forward to sharing plans for the day and more than half expected another round of bed play.
His phone pinged. He almost ignored the incoming message, but thinking it might be Flick he hurried indoors, grabbed the phone and turned it on.
Negotiations progressing well. On early flight north to assess prospect on the ground. Bob.
His disappointment was searing, and damned unfamiliar.
Normally, such an update from his second in charge would have him whooping. In Bob-speak, progressing well meant he was on track to nail the deal. If Bob stitched it up quickly, they wouldn’t need much down time after New Year. Xander dropped the phone on the desk and walked back onto the balcony—I am happy, dammit.
Everything he’d worked towards, every goal he ticked off, everything was coming to fruition. So why did he have this nagging sense of missing the mark with Flick?