Harlequin KISS August 2014 Bundle (68 page)

She sighed again, even louder, and tapped her nails against the table in a deliberate beat.

‘Olivia. If there is a problem please feel free to share. What is it?’

‘I was just wondering why you insisted I take a week off.’ An outright
fib, but she didn’t care. It might be childish but she wanted him distract him.

‘Because it makes sense. Zeb comes and goes as he pleases. He only got to Ko Lanta a couple of days ago, so he should still be there. But if he’s moved on we’ll need to track him. It’s not worth the risk of losing him again.’

Her sigh was genuine this time; Zeb wasn’t exactly turning out to be the kind of
man she had envisaged when she’d embarked on this search.

Though, come to think of it, Adam still hadn’t told her much about Zeb at all, really. A sideways glance confirmed that he had returned his attention to his laptop and clearly figured their conversation to be closed. His expression was shuttered, his forehead creased in a frown of concentration.

Olivia hauled in breath. Well,
tough. They would be in Thailand soon, and she’d be meeting Zeb shortly after. Surely she was entitled to some information about the man?

‘Adam?’ she said.

‘Yes?’

Impatience tinged the air as he looked up and Olivia stiffened her spine.

‘Could you tell me something more about Zeb?’

‘More?’ Dark eyebrows rose, for all the world as if he’d already given her a three-tome
biography of Zeb. ‘There isn’t any more to tell.’

‘Sure there is. So far all I’ve got is a man who wanders the world and has no wish to settle down.’

‘What else do you need to know?’

Olivia shrugged. ‘Well, what sort of father was he?’ She hesitated. ‘I noticed you didn’t mention him in your speech, and...’ And, man, she was an idiot. The penny plummeted down. ‘That’s why your mother
brought you up on your own. Zeb didn’t stick around.’

Adam’s lips set in a grim line before he let out a whoosh of air and leant back, pushing his laptop back. ‘No, he didn’t,’ he said.

Compassion, confusion and anger threaded through her. ‘And you didn’t think to mention this earlier?’

‘No, I didn’t.’

Keep calm, Liv.
‘Care to expand on your reasoning?’

‘Sure. Zeb walked
away when my mum told him she was pregnant. Thirty years ago. Doesn’t mean he’d do the same now. Plus, when Mum found out how ill she was she hired a PI to track him down. Zeb turned up a few weeks after the funeral and took me with him on his travels.’

His tone was way too bland. Olivia knew right down to her tippy-toes that there was a lot more to the story. The set of his lips also informed
her that that was all she was going to get.

‘And? What sort of dad was he then?’

Adam shrugged. ‘He was exciting, unpredictable, fun. He taught me how to play poker and how to look out for myself.’

A shadow crossed his eyes on those last words, and Olivia would swear the air had become tinted with a wisp of bitterness.

As if he realised it Adam tipped his hands in the air and
smiled. ‘He made me into the man I am today. I’m pretty happy with that.’ The plane started its descent and Adam snapped his laptop shut. ‘And on that note, it looks like we’re here.’

Olivia gazed out the window and for a minute wished that she was here on a holiday, visiting a country she had only dreamed of.

A sigh of sheer appreciation escaped her lips as they disembarked into the
incredible warmth of the Thai sun. She shrugged off her light cardigan and tipped her face up to the sun’s rays. Deep warmth suffused her as the sun soaked into her skin.

‘Incredible,’ she murmured as she followed Adam across the tarmac to a waiting taxi. ‘So, two hours and we’ll be on Ko Lanta?’ she asked.

‘Less. I’ve got a taxi booked, and then a speedboat. I’ve got seasickness tablets
if you need them.’

‘I should be fine. I haven’t been on many boats, but I’ve never thrown up, either.’

‘It’s a bit bumpy, and you may get a bit wet, but it’s the quickest way to get there.’

The remainder of their trip was achieved in silence, and anticipation built in Olivia with each bump of the car over the long, dusty road. Hope looped the loop in her tummy as she inhaled the
salty sea spray and the speedboat skimmed the glittering turquoise waves. The journey was bringing them inexorably closer and closer to Zeb.

A man walked towards them as they stepped off the deck of the speedboat onto the pier at Ko Lanta.

‘Adam. It is good to see you.’

‘Gan. Good to see you, too.’ Adam turned to Olivia. ‘Olivia, this is Gan. He taught me how to snorkel many, many
moons ago.’

The small, compact man’s wrinkled face creased further as he smiled. ‘Welcome to Ko Lanta, Olivia.’

‘Thank you, Gan.’

‘Can you take us straight to Zeb?’ Adam asked.

The smile dropped from the elderly man’s lips and he shook his head. ‘Sorry, Adam. Your father is no longer here.’

Leaden disappointment weighted Olivia’s tummy, but Gan went on hurriedly.

‘He will be back. He has gone on a trip. In five maybe six days he said he will be back. But he has taken a boat and I have no way of contacting him. I am sorry, Adam. I could not stop him.’

‘That’s OK, Gan. It’s not your fault. And it could be a lot worse. At least we know he’s coming back. All we have to do is stay put until he gets here.’

All?
Olivia bit her lip and tried to suppress
the rising swell of panic. More waiting. More time with Adam. On a gloriously beautiful sun-drenched island where there would be no handy distractions. No reporters or charity events or work. Just Olivia and Adam, stranded on an isle.

Adam looked down at her and a rueful smile tugged his lips, as though his mind was travelling the same path as hers. ‘Right now,’ he said, ‘I could do with
a drink.’

‘I’m with you on that.’ Drowning her sorrows seemed like an excellent short-term solution. Maybe she and Adam could work out a way to follow Zeb, contact Zeb...
something
.

Gan nodded at their bags, then at the Jeep parked on the side of the road. ‘Where are you staying, Adam? I can take your bags to the hotel and drop you off if you like?’

‘Gan. You’re the man,’ Adam said,
with a smile of genuine affection on his face.

Clearly there was a bond between the two men, which meant Ko Lanta must be a place Adam visited frequently. A pang struck her. Maybe this was his holiday destination of choice. How many other women had he brought here?

Not that the answer mattered to Olivia. In the slightest.

Fifteen minutes later she jumped out of the Jeep, waved to
Gan and followed Adam to a bamboo shack beach bar. Wooden benches and tables dotted the golden sand that shimmered in the rays of evening sunshine. The beat of reggae music blended with the lapping of the waves to create an atmosphere so laid-back she could feel her frayed nerves being soothed.

Adam indicated a table and she slid along the sun-warmed teak with a sigh as a bare-chested waiter
with a small drum strapped around his waist sauntered across the sand, placed a tray with two frosted glasses of beer on the table and high-fived Adam.

‘Adam. Gan said you’d be here.’

‘Saru. How are you doing? Where’s your dad?’

The young man beamed. ‘He’s semi-retired now. He’s away. On a cruise, would you believe? How long you here for?’

‘A week or so.’ Adam gestured to Olivia.
‘This is Olivia.’

Saru shook her hand with a wide smile and then moseyed along to greet an arriving family, his hands beating a jaunty tune as he walked.

‘Saru’s a mean drummer,’ Adam said. ‘He and I used to busk in the old town together.’

An image of a bare-chested Adam with a drum around his muscular waist, busking on the dusky streets, sun glinting in his hair, filled her mind.
So real, so vivid she felt she could reach out and touch him.

‘You can play reggae? You busked?’

Adam grinned. ‘I’m hot stuff.’

Didn’t she know it? Olivia picked up her glass, welcoming the cold against her heated flesh. She drank, the strong taste puckering her lips even as the temperature refreshed her.

‘It’s beautiful here,’ she said as she absorbed the sight of the sea,
watched the mesh of different blues blend into an endless aquamarine expanse. ‘I can see why you come here so often.’ And, heaven help her, in this moment she wished she was here as one of his women.

‘It’s a great place to relax,’ Adam continued. ‘So relax, Olivia.’

‘I
am
relaxed.’

A smile tugged his lips and her tummy back-flipped as her toes crunched into the warm sand.

‘No, you aren’t. Your leg is jigging up and down, your hand is clenched around your glass way too hard, and you have a perma-frown creasing your forehead.’

Well, no way was she about to explain that her lack of relaxation was to do with her escalating panic as to how she could spend a week in his company without losing her already tenuous grip on control.

She glared at him. ‘OK. So I’m
not relaxed. I was psyched up to meet Zeb and now he’s not here—won’t be here for days.’

Adam stretched his long legs out. ‘Exactly.’

Desire and irritation jangled her nerves at his sheer carefree attitude and she took another gulp of beer. ‘Exactly what?’

‘There is nothing we can do except wait, so why not make the best of it? When’s the last time you had a holiday?’

Olivia
opened her mouth and closed it again. Surely she must have had a holiday at some point? There’d been that weekend away with her best friend, Suzi, but she didn’t think that was what Adam meant. Even that had been a year ago.

She shrugged. ‘Time goes so fast,’ she said finally. ‘And I suppose I don’t want to waste money. I’ve got a mortgage and bills, and my mum’s—’ Olivia broke off.

‘And your mum’s what?’

Why shouldn’t she tell him? It was nothing to be ashamed of. ‘Allowance. I give my mum an allowance. She went through a lot to support me as a child—now it’s my turn to look after her.’

Adam raised his eyebrows. ‘So your mum holidays in Hawaii and you stay at home?’

‘I’m happy with it that way.’

For a moment she thought he’d say more but then he shook
his head. ‘The point is you can’t remember the last time you had a holiday. So here you are. In Thailand. Perfect weather. No work. So let go. Relax. Have a holiday.’

‘A holiday?’ she echoed. ‘I’m here to find Zeb. Not loll about on a beach.’

‘But Zeb isn’t here and there’s nothing you can do about it.’

‘There must be something. Can’t we radio him?’

‘Gan tried that. No response.’

Broad shoulders hitched, his blue T stretched over the breadth of his chest and Olivia gulped.

‘Accept it, Olivia. I know it’s tough, but we’re stuck on this beautiful island.’

‘Yes, well, that’s the problem, isn’t it?’ Olivia tried to gulp the words down but it was too late; she’d been so busy gawping at his display of muscle she’d spoken without thought.

‘What is?’

‘The
“we” bit of it. You. Me. I’m sure that if I was stuck on this island by myself relaxation wouldn’t be an issue. But you...you make me edgy.’

‘No need. We’re both agreed that we aren’t going to act on our attraction, so surely we can get past it and enjoy some chill-out time? Have some fun? You can do that, right?’

The look he cast her was so full of challenge tempered by a glint of mischief
that she was torn between the desire to slap him or sample him.

‘Of course I can,’ she said through clenched teeth.

‘I don’t believe you. I reckon you’ve forgotten how to wind down, Olivia. If you ever knew.’

‘That is ridiculous. I am an expert at taking it easy.’ She took another defiant gulp of beer. The taste was welcome, smooth, and cold as it slipped down her throat.

Adam followed suit and her hungry eyes watched, mesmerised by the sturdy column of his throat.
Enough.
They were supposed to be past the attraction—and, hell, if Adam could get past it so could she.

‘I’ve
bulldozed
past that ridiculous attraction thing.’ She waved her hand in the air. ‘And I’m the Queen of Chill.’

His smile widened into what could definitely be classed as a positive grin.
A wolfish grin. ‘Good. That’s sorted, then.’ He lifted his glass. ‘To our holiday.’

‘I’ll drink to that,’ she said, and drained the glass.

Caution tried to rear its head and was instantly decapitated by the Queen of Chill. True, her head was spinning a little. True, she’d had no sleep and little food. But both those things could be remedied. Soon. After maybe one more drink.

As
if reading her mind, Adam rose. ‘I’ll get you a refill. And some water and some food.’

‘Fabulous.’

Picking up their empty glasses, he strode towards the bamboo enclosure. He was so tall, so broad, so damn imposing and oh, so very delicious. His every stride was adding to her head-spin. Hell, by the end of a week with Mr Hotter Than the Core of the Universe she’d be eligible for a starring
role in a horror movie.

Nope. Nope. Nope.

Get with it, Liv.

The attraction had been annihilated and they were on holiday. Chillaxing.

May all the gods help her!

NINE

After conferring
with Saru on the question of food Adam exited the dim interior of the bar and paused in the doorway to absorb the dusky beauty of the evening sky.

His thoughts raced. A holiday with Olivia, brought about by Zeb’s all too predictable runner. Adam had asked Gan not to mention Adam’s arrival, but even so Zeb would have suspected something was up. After all
it was Zeb who had taught Adam his poker table skills; he had uncanny instincts and an ability to read body language the way other people read magazines. A spooked Zeb would have seen an impromptu sailing trip as the perfect solution—would hope that by the time he came back the trouble he’d scented would be long gone.

Well, he was in for a surprise, because Adam was going nowhere.

Instead
he and Olivia were going to stay here and have a holiday.

He must be nuts
. Stellar idea, Adam. Give the man a medal. For sheer foolishness.
But Olivia was in evident need of a break and the words had somehow fallen from his lips without permission from his brain.
Enjoy some chill-out time. Have some fun. Past the attraction.
Amazing he hadn’t been struck by lightning for such an enormous
fib.

But the point was this attraction
was
under control.
His
control, not his libido’s. At the end of the day Olivia was a beautiful woman, but one who was off-limits. He was a grown-up, and he was perfectly capable of spending a relaxed few days with Olivia.

Adam glanced out to the sea, where the sun was just beginning to dip down. The sky was an electric, vivid orange speckled with
tinted tangerine clouds. It was the perfect way to start any holiday.

He flicked his gaze to her, wanting to see her reaction.

‘For Pete’s sake,’ he muttered, and strode across the sand.

Olivia looked up from the napkin on which she was industriously scribbling notes from the illuminated tablet on the tabletop.

‘Tha—’ she began as he placed the tray down.

Adam walked around
and placed his hands on her already sun-kissed shoulders. The warmth of her skin tingled his palms as he gently turned her upper body to face the horizon.

‘Oh...’ She sucked in a breath of sheer wonder and his whole body stood to attention; the sound that fell from her lips held the same resonance as yesterday in the limo. For a second the sunset dimmed—a mere backdrop to the memory of her
astride him, flushed and needy.

Olivia gave a small wriggle of her shoulders and he kneaded his fingers into the tight knots of her shoulders. Relaxed? This woman had a long way to go before she was anywhere near. And
he
didn’t have far to go until the silken texture of her skin, her small huff of pleasure as he dug deeper, pushed him to the brink of discomfort.

Come on, Adam. Past the
attraction, remember?
Yeah, well, he was only human. Perhaps a friendly massage wasn’t the best way forward.

Releasing her shoulders, he stepped backwards and walked round to his seat, the distance between them a welcome one. He gestured to her list. ‘So what’s that?’

‘It’s a list of things to do this week,’ she said. ‘I was researching Ko Lanta.’

‘I thought the Queen of Chill would
be more into lazing around on the beach soaking up some rays.’ Preferably in a skimpy bikini; even better if Olivia was in need of a handy sun-cream applier. Sure, his libido might not be in control, but it deserved something; he might not be able to bed her, but there was nothing wrong with a bit of healthy appreciation.

A resolute shake of her head indicated disagreement. ‘I may never get
to visit Thailand again—I’ve got to make sure I see everything.’ She picked up her glass and took a gulp, then transferred her attention to the serviette. ‘There’s this tour where you trek through the jungle, climb up a dried-up waterfall and get to a limestone cave. It sounds awesome.’

‘I know the one,’ he said. ‘One of my favourite places.’

‘Perfect. We’ll definitely go there, then.
And there’s a national park with a lighthouse, and loads of other stuff. First thing tomorrow I’ll need to get some proper shoes and suitable clothes, though. I didn’t really pack for a holiday.’

‘What
did
you pack for?’

‘Meeting Zeb.’

‘I’m not entirely sure I’m with you.’ Presumably beach clothes were beach clothes.

‘Well, take this for example.’ Olivia waved a hand at her
outfit. ‘I put a lot of thought into it. Grey trousers and a light grey tunic top. Muted colours, but not funereal. Non-threatening, non-judgemental. I was aiming for soothing and neutral.’

‘Is that how you think all the time?’

‘What do you mean?’

Adam glanced down. ‘I look at my clothes and I think blue T-shirt and beige chinos. You use your clothes to play a part.’

‘No, I
don’t.’

‘Then what’s
your
style? Enquiring minds want to know.’ His theory was that Olivia used clothes to define her, wore them as armour.

‘It’s all my style. I’d never wear anything I didn’t like.’

‘I get that. But it seems like all your clothes have a purpose—to set you up in a certain role. You’re always projecting an image.’

For a second a look of confusion entered her
hazel eyes. As if he’d flummoxed or at the very least flustered her.

She took another hefty swig from her glass, almost draining it. ‘That’s all so much psychobabble,’ she declared as she put her glass down with exaggerated care. ‘Anyway, you’re a fine one to talk with your co-ordinated-by-someone-else wardrobe.’ She rested her elbows on the table so she could prop her chin in her hands and
surveyed him a touch owlishly. ‘I think you should let me dress you.’ Tilting her head to one side, she gave a slightly fuzzy smile. ‘Oops. That may have come out wrong.’

‘Nah. It would have come out wrong if you’d asked if you could
undress
me.’

The giggle she gave was infectious, ‘Seriously, though, let’s go shopping. It could be fun.’

Fun? What the hell...? But maybe it would
be—and it was her holiday, after all. Perhaps he could persuade her into buying that skimpy bikini or a tiny little pair of shorts that would barely cover her heart-shaped derrière. Hell, yes.

‘OK. I’m in. You choose me some clothes and I’ll choose you some clothes. I don’t want to spend a week with you dressed in your “soothe Zeb” outfits. I want to be seen with—’

‘Oh, here we go!’
Olivia shook her head and her lush lips actually curled.

‘Here we go, where?’

‘To the part where you want to display me on your arm as some sort of trophy.’

‘Olivia. What the hell are you talking about?’ He poured her a glass of water and pushed it across the table.

She eyed it belligerently before picking it up. ‘It doesn’t matter.’ She waved the glass and water droplets fell
onto the tabletop. ‘Let’s have another drink. My round.’

‘Uh-uh.’ Adam shook his head. ‘No more beer until you explain.’

Olivia chewed her bottom lip for a moment and then shrugged. ‘You drive a hard bargain, Masterson. Fine. You want to know? I’ll tell you. It’s
complicated
, being beautiful.’

‘Are you for real? Women would kill to look like you and you’re complaining?’

She
shook her head. ‘It means men only want you for your looks.’

‘Not only. There’s more to it than that.’

‘Hornswoggle.’ Olivia looked impressed with the word, her lips formulating the syllables again. ‘Take us, for example. You and me. Not that there is a you and me any more. But when there was. You with me?’

‘Faint but pursuing. Keep going.’

‘Well,
you
—’ she pointed at him ‘—were
attracted to me because of my looks. If I didn’t have this face, if I’d arrived in your hotel with greasy hair dressed in a bin bag, I wouldn’t have had any effect on you at all.’

‘Not true.’

‘Totally true.’ She waved a finger at him. ‘I looked up that billionaire-bagging article, Adam. Your only criteria is beauty.
“Blonde or dark. Small or tall... This field is open to all. Adam Masterson’s
only criteria is beauty: the man likes his ladies easy on the eye.”
Not a mention of personality. So—
ha
! I rest my case and I’ll go get us a beer.’

‘Not so fast.’ Adam snorted. ‘You’re quoting a rubbishy magazine article. It’s hardly gospel.’

Olivia wrinkled her nose before pouring herself another glass of water. ‘OK, Mr Holier Than Thou. List the last five women you slept with. Then
tell me—were they beautiful or were they not?’

Adam could feel metaphorical ropes digging into his back; a sudden urge to loosen his collar overcame him and he wasn’t even wearing a shirt. Those five women ranged back over a three-year period but, yes, they were all beautiful. Mind you, until this moment, with Olivia’s accusatory eyes boring it into him, he’d never seen it as a problem.

‘I
like
beautiful women,’ he said. ‘Does it count in my favour that they were all a different type of beautiful?’

‘Nope, it doesn’t,’ she said. ‘All it shows is that you like variety.’ She nodded sagely. ‘And what were all those women wearing when you met them? How did they look? Were they dressed to attract? Made up to show themselves at their best?’

How he wished he could claim
that at least one of those five women had been met at a farm, in wellington boots, up to her knees in pig muck. But honesty, along with the knowledge that those hazel eyes would see straight through him, compelled him to admit, ‘Yes.’

‘Double
ha
!’ Another shrug and a small smirk tugged those lush lips. ‘There you have it. I win. Just admit it, Adam. Looks matter and clothes matter. Especially
to men like
you
.’ She jabbed her finger at his chest.

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Men like me? What does that mean?’ And why did he know he wouldn’t like the answer?

‘Men with the money to buy whatever and whomever they choose.’

‘Ouch. Are you suggesting I
buy
my women?’ Good thing his ego was fairly robust.

‘Not exactly,’ she admitted as she tilted her head to one side and studied
him, a small critical frown creasing her forehead. ‘You’re good-looking, you’re charming—
maybe
your women would date you regardless of your wallet.’

‘Well, gee. Thanks for the vote of confidence.’

‘My point is that your money eases your path. It means that even when you’re old and wrinkly beautiful women will always be available to you and you know that. So you’ll keep sampling the variety
and so it will go on—for ever and ever, amen.’ She tipped her hands up. ‘A bit like a conveyor belt.’

A conveyor belt?
‘That implies each woman is the same,’ he countered. ‘Every woman I date is different and I’ve liked every single one.’ Well, he hadn’t
dis
liked any of them, at any rate, and that counted for something, right? ‘And—’ he allowed a reminiscent smile to play about his lips,
wanting her to remember he had a lot more to offer a woman than the contents of his wallet ‘—I’m pretty sure they all have very fond memories of me.’

Her face tinted pink, as if she were reliving the memory of their recent activities in lift and limo. But then she rallied and pressed her lips together in a line of disapproval. ‘Hmmph. No doubt they do. And I’m sure you give them an expensive
souvenir of their time spent gracing your bed.’

‘Sure I give them presents.’ Actually, he didn’t even do that. He just sent them off to shop in the boutiques in whichever Masterson Hotel they were in and rack their purchases up to his account. ‘And, yes, it is a token of appreciation—but there’s nothing wrong with that.’

If a woman had given him the pleasure of her company and her body
then it seemed reasonable to give her something back. Something that didn’t cost him anything but money. After all he had more of that than he knew what to do with.

One thing he could thank his marriage for: in his lunatic attempt to prove he could settle down and reclaim the home of his childhood, he’d fallen into a career that he loved. And he’d made sure that Charlotte benefited; the alimony
he paid was more than generous.

Heaven knew she deserved every red cent, because her pain had taught him the truth about himself: he couldn’t do love, he couldn’t do settling down. But that didn’t mean he needed to condemn himself to celibacy. And if that meant a conveyor belt of beautiful women in his life, hell, he didn’t have a problem with that. Not one.

‘Olivia. I plead guilty to
liking a moving line of beautiful women, but it’s not for the kudos of having a trophy woman on my arm. I date women whose company I find enjoyable in the bedroom and out. And I make damn sure no one gets hurt.’

‘How do you do that?’

‘I have rules.’

She gave a small sigh. ‘Of
course
you have rules. I can’t believe I’m asking this, but please share.’

‘Short-term, no expectations,
no deep emotions, a good time had by all. That way everyone knows to jump off the conveyor belt when the ride is over. And no one gets hurt.’ He hitched his shoulders. ‘Works for me.’

‘Not for me,’ she said. ‘In fact I’d rather poke myself in the eye than lose all my self-respect by even putting my toe on your conveyor belt. I refuse to be some interchangeable good-time girl, only valued
for my looks and my understanding that all that’s in it for me is just sex, expensive dinners and some goodbye jewellery.’

‘Well,
I
refuse to be branded some rich Lothario who pays for his pleasures. And, for the record, I offer
hot
sex—not just sex.’

* * *

Hot sex.

The words lingered on the warm evening breeze alongside her own. Olivia’s brain whirred a frantic calculation.
Hot sex, expensive dinners and jewellery. And this was bad because...?

OK, she’d forego the latter two, but suddenly every molecule of her was asking what exactly was wrong with having hot sex with...say, Adam? In return for...hot sex with Adam.

Mutual pleasure.

So where exactly was the catch?