Recovery

I was a prisoner in my own home—staying inside, the curtains drawn, slowly going insane. I’d put clean sheets on my bed, dusted throughout, and opened every window to allow the fresh air to circulate. It was on one such trip I noticed the paparazzi on the pavement outside my building. They’d seen me at the window, calling out to me, their flashes firing like strobe lighting. How had they found me?

I had weeks of house arrest to endure, and even then their interest in me might continue once I’d started my new job at St Mildred’s Hospital. But what I feared most was that they’d approach Matty—he couldn’t deal with stress, noise or strangers touching him.

I sat on my bed and opened my laptop to check for an e-mail from Jess—if we met in LA as we’d planned, at least I could escape from the gossip and speculation prison.

Twitching with impatience, I booked a ticket to LA, forwarding the details to Jess, and then composed a follow-up e-mail to Dr Sewell at the Saban Research Institute of LA’s children’s hospital. This was the perfect solution. Jess and I would have the holiday we’d planned to take at the end of our time together in New Zealand and I would get away from the media, away from the paparazzi camped on my street, and away from Nathan.

Nathan. My restless fingers hovered over the keys, finally succumbing and typing his name into Google. The first entry was his Wikipedia page. It was all there, everything I could want to know—his date of birth, schooling, family, charity work, award nominations and career achievements to date. I scoured every detail, an addict greedy for any fix.

The section on his relationships made uncomfortable reading, and I was torn between irrational jealousy, morbid curiosity and guilty voyeurism. Unsurprised, I discovered Nathan favoured beautiful models and actresses, many of whom had been his leading ladies. There was also a photo of him with a stunning brunette, Amy Hamilton, to whom he’d had a short engagement before they split two years ago. My heart raced and a sour taste stung the back of my throat. That immunity I sought couldn’t come quickly enough.

I clicked to images, gasping as a screen full of Nathan popped up. It was the sweetest hedonism and the worst from of torture combined. I scrolled through image after image of his handsome face, which either featured his dazzling Hollywood smile, the charm of his dimple-flashing grin or his angry scowl as his privacy was invaded.

I groaned, pushing away the laptop and rolling over onto my back to stare at my ceiling. It was futile. If I closed my eyes, he was there, tattooed on the insides of my eyelids. With my eyes open, his image danced across my ceiling, mocking me for the foolish woman I was and heating my blood on a tidal wave of erotic memories. I was doomed—infected, contagious and desperate for a cure from Nathan Banks.

A ping from the laptop alerted me to an incoming e-mail. Had Jess replied to my message? If I could catch her online, we could video chat and plan our LA itinerary. Anything to distract me from Nathan.

Soph,

I hope you found your apartment in a satisfactory condition. I’m not sure what happened this afternoon, but I would like to take you somewhere tomorrow if you are free? No press, no paparazzi, no performance.

Get an early night. I’ll pick you up at 7a.m. Wear comfortable clothing and sports shoes.

Nate.

P.S. Don’t forget to draw your curtains. Those telephoto lenses are a bitch.

The e-mail contained a scanned drawing of two stick figures on the side of a mountain, one above the other, reaching out a hand to assist their ascent.

… Sorry I have plans … Checking the street every five seconds to see if they’ve left their vigil.

Anything other than what I knew I was going to say. Perhaps if I didn’t answer, he’d assume I hadn’t seen the message and he wouldn’t show up?

I was anything but that. I’d spent most of my adult life holding people at an arm’s length. I could keep Mr Banks there too.

Nathan,

I do indeed have uninvited guests on my street. How did you know? Rest assured, my curtains are already drawn and have been all day. I am at risk of vitamin D deficiency-induced rickets.

The outing you propose intrigues me, although 7a.m. is a little early for someone still recovering from jet lag.

I take it I won’t need a ‘killer frock’ this time?

Soph.

After a hot shower, I crawled between clean crisp sheets, fatigue so acute I almost sobbed with relief. The last thing I did before sleep claimed me was set my alarm for six a.m.

I swung open my front door to find Nathan filling my doorway, one elbow braced on the doorframe and his crooked smile greeting me like the best wake-up call a girl could get. My chest seized, the sting of trapped air pinching my lungs. He was casual in jeans, a T-shirt and a baseball cap, and I battled to keep my hands at my sides instead of dragging him down the hallway to my room where I could reacquaint myself with his birthday suit and spectacular bedroom skills. Who was I kidding? The carpeted floor of the hallway would be perfectly adequate.

On the street behind him, the handful of photographers who’d either camped out all night or been up with the birds yelled our names, calling for Nathan to turn round as their flashes popped relentlessly.

I grasped a handful of the shirt over his sternum and pulled him inside, slamming the door on our audience with a scowl.

‘Hi.’ Embarrassed by the direction of my thoughts a few seconds ago, I focused on the dark fabric covering his firm chest.

He closed the distance between us, stalking me until my back hit the wall and I was forced to raise my eyes to his. ‘Ready to go?’ His minty breath gusted over my lips, the space between his mouth and mine tantalisingly scant.

I nodded, his mouth fascinating me as I waited, my lips tingling and my body swaying toward him of its own volition.

The kiss never came. He lifted his hand to the side of my face, brushing back a lock of hair before he straightened. I was left frustrated on both counts as his fingers hadn’t even made contact with my skin.

His lazy perusal travelled down my body and back up again. ‘You look well rested.’

Well rested? The banal descriptor should have pleased me, cementing our relationship firmly back into neutral territory, but my body craved the scorch of fire it had developed a taste for. Pretty, beautiful, or even fuckable would have been preferable.

‘Thank you. I slept well, despite the early start. So where are we going, and how are we going to lose them?’ I pointed at my closed door.

‘Leave that to me. I bought you something. I hope I guessed the sizes correctly.’ He lifted one hand, where a carrier bag dangled from one finger.

Heat pooled in the wake of his stare and I shuffled my feet, the lack of physical contact between us leaving me fidgety and irritable. I snatched the bag from his finger to peer at the contents. A pile of black Lycra and a pair of rubber-soled climbing shoes greeted me. My eyes widened as they flew back to his. ‘I can’t do this. I’ve never been rock climbing before.’

‘Tut, tut, Soph.’ He shook his head, laughter sparkling in his eyes. ‘You don’t strike me as the kind of woman to walk away from a challenge. You slay dragons, right? And I’d never let you fall. Trust me.’

Trust him? I barely knew him. There were very few people I trusted. And even though he’d been inside me, our gazes locked as we’d shared the ultimate pleasure our bodies could experience, he hadn’t earned his place as one of them. But it was my flesh and blood at stake here, not my soul, and he was right. I wouldn’t back down from any challenge he issued.

I fixed him with my fiercest glare. ‘You’re experienced at this, I take it?’

He nodded, reaching into the bag to withdraw a pair of Lycra leggings. ‘What you have on is fine, but these are the safest thing to wear—nothing to get caught in the ropes. You need to hurry and put them on, unless you want to change later, alfresco?’

I snatched them from his grip, turning on my heel and heading towards my bedroom.

‘Don’t get me wrong’—his words followed me down the hallway, mocking and playful—‘I wouldn’t mind another glimpse of your luscious backside, but it’s up to you.’

The look I shot him as I rounded the doorway into my room could strip paint. But as I fumbled into the leggings, the thrill of his words worked their magic on me, turning my legs to jelly and my blood to hot fudge sauce. How was I going to survive the day with playful, flirty Nathan? Especially when I knew how good it felt to surrender to my body’s craving for him? I was so done for. If the rock climbing didn’t get me, Mr Deadly out there in my hallway would.

The helicopter touched down safely in the grounds of North Lees Hall, a 17^th century tower house near the Peak District town of Hathersage. I loosened the grip I’d had on Nathan’s hand throughout the journey, relieved to have solid ground under my feet once more.

Nathan grinned at me, adjusting his headset. ‘This is Stanage Edge, my favourite climbing spot.’ His words crackled through my headphones, but the excitement in his voice was palpable.

‘You come here a lot?’ We remained seated as the pilot powered down the helicopter, adjusting settings and making notes in his flight log.

Nathan’s grin dropped a degree or two. ‘Not so much these days.’ He shrugged. ‘But I used to come here all the time in my late teens.’

He gazed at the gritstone ridge in the distance, which rose up like the edge of the world. I swallowed down my apprehension, relieved when after a thumbs up from the pilot, Nathan reached over to undo my harness.

Helping me down from the helicopter, Nathan took my hand, only releasing me to pull a large hold-all from behind our seats. We crossed the field towards the hall, which was perched majestically atop the hill. I turned to admire the view—the rolling landscape crisscrossed with dry-stone walls spread out below us like a checked blanket.

‘Come on.’ Nathan tugged on my hand, his excitement bubbling over to infect me too as we laughed and hurried up the remaining slope.

At the hall, Sam, a local, experienced climber, who would be an extra pair of hands for the day, greeted us. While they checked their equipment and discussed the weather conditions and the best locations to climb, I observed Nathan. He mesmerised me. Joy spilled from him. This was his passion, and his enthusiasm and competence for a pastime I’d always considered dangerous and wholly unnecessary was a serious turn-on.

The short drive to the base of the cliff in Sam’s rickety Land Rover was enough time for my nerves to return with a vengeance. By the time we parked, my palms were slick and my heart thundered in my chest. I’d never done anything like this before.

Nathan squeezed the hand he still held and leaned in close so his lips were pressed to my temple. ‘I’m not going to let you fall. Trust me.’

I nodded, a feeble smile stretching my lips as adrenaline surged through my bloodstream.

We unloaded our gear from the back of the Land Rover and set off along the walking track for the base of the cliff.

It was a spectacular morning, the sun just peaking over the top of the twenty-metre-high edge. The steady climb through scrubby moorland was dotted with abandoned millstones, left there like buttons fallen from a giant’s cardigan.

The path split and Sam veered off to the right, a route that would take him to the top. Nathan and I turned left, following the base of the cliff, which stretched for miles amongst commanding scenery.

I filled my lungs with the crisp morning air, the clean damp scent a balm soothing my jitters. ‘It’s astounding. I can’t believe I’ve never been here before.’

‘My family holidays involved a lot of hiking. This is a popular climbing spot. When I turned sixteen, I asked for climbing lessons and I’ve been hooked ever since. You’ll love it.’

‘My dad used to belay me in the beginning, then I made some climbing friends.’ He stopped, turning his head over his shoulder to grin at me. ‘Had some wild weekends up here, staying in youth hostels.’

He chuckled and carried on walking. After another ten minutes we reached an outcrop of rock and Nathan dropped his bag on the ground at its base. The massive stone slab stretched high above us, obliterating all but a narrow strip of clear blue sky. My head spun.

Nathan heeled off his trainers and pushed his jeans down over his hips and muscular thighs. My face heated, and I glanced the way we’d come to make sure we were alone. When I looked back to him, he was pulling on Lycra leggings similar to the pair I wore, a cocky smirk twisting his mouth.

‘I wanted to watch you change too, spoilsport.’ He winked at me before reaching inside the hold-all for ropes and harnesses. The predatory gleam was back in his eyes as he stalked closer. ‘Now I get to tie you up, Soph.’ He dropped enough strapping and carabineers to open an S and M club at our feet. Selecting a harness from the pile, he held open the straps and raised one eyebrow in challenge. ‘Step inside.’

I braced my hands on his bare forearms for balance as I stepped first one foot and then the other into the loops of the harness. I tried to ignore the feel of his soft hair under my palms and the heat radiating from his firm body, close enough I could smell the shower gel he’d used that morning.

‘Now, the most important thing about climbing’—he tugged the harness up over my hips, his fingers brushing my Lycra-clad thighs, his gaze dancing over my features and settling on my wide eyes—‘is that you should absolutely, one hundred per cent trust your belayer.’ He fastened the harness at the front and moved to the side to adjust the loops to closely hug my thighs. The straps pressed between my legs as he tugged and his breath tickled the side of my neck, sending shivers down my spine that had nothing to do with nerves.

‘What’s my belayer, because I’d really love to trust it? Do you know how many bones I’ll break if I fall from there?’ I pointed above me to the top of the cliff, which seemed forty storeys high.

Nathan walked behind me to adjust the other side of the harness, his hand trailing over the small of my back. ‘You’re not going to fall.’ He moved to stand in front of me, tugging on the metal ring at the front of the harness and yanking me forward until our chests collided. ‘And I am your belayer.’

His hands circled my waist, cupping over my backside until he found the straps below my cheeks and jerked them roughly towards him, whether to test the integrity of the harness or to pull my pelvis to his, I wasn’t sure. But it was the latter that sent shock waves fizzing down to my toes and pooled heat in my sex.

Before I could comment, his mouth swooped down on mine, his lips gliding and expertly parting my own. I clung to his shirt as our tongues met, my heartbeat thundering in my ears and my mind wiped clean of any reservations I’d had. This was the contact I’d craved all morning while he’d teased and tortured me with almost kisses, hand holding and technical touch ensuring my safety. I sank into the kiss, re-living the connection we’d established yesterday.

He pulled back, his eyes still sparkling with excitement, but now smouldering too. His voice husked out, deep, dark and demanding. ‘So, do you trust me, or not?’

My life hung in the balance. Did I trust him? What was he asking me? Did I trust him to keep me safe on this rock face? Yes. He’d told me on the flight here he had more than ten years’ experience and thousands of hours of climbing under his belt. But his question, whilst on the face of it was about rock climbing, went deeper, exposing his vulnerabilities, and I wanted to be able to answer a blanket ‘yes’.

I nodded and a face-splitting grin lit him up. He smacked my right buttock and tugged on the harness one last time. ‘Beautiful girl.’

Leaving me to reel on shaky legs, he quickly donned his own harness, his movements confident and proficient. The Lycra and the harness showcased all his manly bits and I scoured the heather at my feet. I’d objectified him again.

When he was ready, he took my hand and drew me closer to the base of the cliff. ‘This climb is called Twinkle Toes.’ He grinned, winking at me. ‘It seemed appropriate. It’s one of the easiest.’ He squeezed my frigid fingers and pressed a quick reassuring peck on my lips. ‘You see those long horizontal cracks?’

I looked up at the almost sheer cliff face, which was layered like a cake, and nodded.

‘That’s where your hands and feet go.’ He handed me the shoes he’d bought for me and pulled his phone from his pocket. I sat on the heather to change shoes and in the next minute, a bright yellow rope arced through the sky to land a few metres away from us.

‘Sam is on top. There are anchor points up there. You’ll be attached at all times to the rock and if you slip, I’ll take up the slack and catch you, okay?’

My stomach lurched, but I nodded. I wanted to do this. I wanted to show him I trusted him, even though the thought terrified me.

His face turned solemn, his hand cupping my chin so he had my full attention. ‘You can go as far as you want and you can stop any time. I’ll lower you down.’

‘Let’s do it.’ My voice belied the flutter of hysteria threatening to burst forth at any moment. I focused on Nathan’s capable hands as he attached one end of the rope to my harness and fed the other end through a metal contraption that wouldn’t have looked out of place in an operating theatre, before attaching it to his own harness. He fed the rope through his hands, taking up the slack and encouraging me closer to the hard unyielding slab before me.

Close up, the gradient wasn’t as steep as I’d first thought and I relaxed a little, confident that I’d at least be able to get my feet off the ground and not embarrass myself entirely.

‘Right, Soph. You grip the cracks with your fingers and toes.’ He scaled the first slice of rock, his arms and legs spread-eagled. ‘Try to reach as high as you can to the next hand-hold so you climb on straight arms.’

His muscular back flexed as he reached above his head, and my dry mouth flooded with saliva.

‘When one foot is in the crack, just rest the other foot on the rock face to the side. This keeps your balance centred and stops you swinging around.’ He demonstrated the moves, making them look effortless. As he ran through a few more basic tips, I tried to focus, but the ripple of his back muscles under his shirt and the way the harness hugged his backside dragged my attention away from the life-saving information in his words.

He climbed down with as much grace and skill as he’d used to scale the sheer rock face. ‘Demo’s over. Your turn.’

I sighed, missing the visual treat of Nathan all Lycra-clad and energetic. I stepped forward, sliding my hands along the rock as if I could make it understand my life was in its hands.

‘Wait.’ Nathan stooped and pulled a safety helmet from his bag. He clasped it under his arm while he pushed the hair back from my face before lowering it onto my head. His lips twitched and his gaze danced over my face. No doubt I had hamster cheeks and resembled someone about to be shot out of a cannon. But if it stopped my brains spilling onto the rocks, I didn’t care.

When he was happy the strap was secure, he held my helmeted head in his hands, his expression turning serious. ‘Trust me. I’ll catch you.’ He pressed his lips to mine and then released me to my fate.

The first slice of rock was easy, little more than a boulder scramble. But as the distance between the ground and me increased, my brain shut down, empty to anything but blind panic and the thousand and one ways I could injure myself. I felt the rope tighten and forced my breathing to slow. He has me. Nathan has me.

‘You’re doing great. Well done. Reach for the next crack, Soph. I promise you I won’t let you fall.’

His words spurred me on, turning into a silent mantra in my head—He won’t let me fall. He won’t let me fall. I stretched my arm to the limit, sliding my fingers into the gap between the slabs of rock. To my right, my foot found a small ledge and with a surge of my leg muscles, I was up, clinging to the next layer of cliff face as euphoria pounded through my bloodstream.

Through the roaring in my head, I heard Nathan’s words of encouragement from below, and I took a second to enjoy the pride and respect in his voice.

‘Okay, I’m going a bit higher.’ The breeze whipped my words away, but he’d already anticipated my move, taking up the slack in the rope, my only lifeline, which was connected to him. After a few more slices, the muscles of my arms and legs screamed, pumping out lactic acid in protest of my demands. I peeked at the strip of sky, which was larger than it had looked from the ground. The top was in sight and the thrill of reaching it called to me, spurring me past fatigue and physical discomfort.

My cheering committee of one kept up a stream of encouragement and tips until the last terrifying edge was in my hand and I was hauled up by a beaming Sam to sit at the top of the cliff I’d just conquered.

Nathan’s whoops could be heard from below, echoing around the escarpment and scattering frightened sheep. With a sense of accomplishment and joie de vivre coursing through me, I waved down at Nathan, laughing at his victory dance moves. Even with a crash helmet on he was sexy as sin.

‘You are awesome. I can’t believe you got all the way to the top on your first go.’ Admiration and something else, something I recognised from our night together, deepened his voice. ‘I am so impressed, you beautiful girl.’

‘I always do what I set out to achieve.’ My breathlessness had nothing to do with the climb. ‘Thanks for keeping me safe.’

‘I’ll lower you down if you want, or you can wait up there for me. Enjoy the view.’

Even his chuckle was husky, sexy. ‘I’ve climbed this ridge a hundred times. I’ll be good.’

Panic forced my words out in a rush. ‘Nathan, if you fall you could die, and we’re at least an hour from the closest hospital. I won’t be able to offer you anything more than first-aid and I can’t treat a head injury in a field of sheep.’

‘It’s nice to know you care. I knew you wanted that job as my private physician.’

‘Listen, beautiful girl. I promise not to fall, if you promise to come to my favourite pub with me tonight?’