Resisting Nick (Wicked in Wellington) (2 page)

“Sushi and some decent sandwiches,” he continued. “And fresh fruit. Maybe a pineapple you could slice up, or seedless grapes. There’s a good place just past the mail center.”

“Fine. Enough for three? Anything to drink?”

He shook his head, apparently still amused by her. One corner of his wide mouth crooked up into less than a grin, but it transformed him from forbidding to dangerously attractive. “Enough for…five?”

Earlier, memories of Nicky in the orchard shed had made her skin tingle with long-suppressed awareness. Now her new boss’s slow-burning smile had set her deliciously on edge. What was
wrong
with her today?
 

She moved on her chair, too aware of her body’s reaction. “When are your guests arriving? Do you want something to drink then or food straight away?”

“Close on one. Straight away’s fine, thanks.” That was a real gangster grin on his face now, full of licentious intent. “Get Tyler to find you some cash before you go.”

“That’s all?” She couldn’t wait to be out of his unsettling presence.

“For now.”

Oh for some high heels to flounce off in! Sneakers just didn’t do it. As she turned away, she easily imagined her butt being given the same intent inspection her breasts had received.
 

“Guests for lunch,” she said as she returned to the reception area.

“Did he say who?” Tyler asked. “He’s trying to swing a big Sydney deal; it must be them. You’ll probably be going to Australia with him in the next week or so.”

A giggle bubbled up from somewhere, and grew until Sammie was laughing with genuine mirth. “Fat chance of that—I don’t have a passport. I applied about a week ago so it’ll be ages yet.”

Tyler grinned. “Don’t depend on it. They come through quite fast sometimes. My sister Kelly had to renew hers for a trip to Hawaii and it was done in no time.”

Pictures of palm-trees and blue ocean floated through Sammie’s brain. “Hawaii,” she said wistfully. “That’s definitely on my wish list.”

“Kell’s leaving in a couple of days.”

“Lucky her. My parents loved traveling. They had National Geographic pages pinned up everywhere at home. They always said they’d rather travel than have a fancy house.” She stopped abruptly as the pain of losing them rampaged through her yet again.

“Where did you go to?”

Sammie closed her eyes for a second or two, the picture of her tall suntanned father and her much shorter mother, full of excitement and happy tears the last time she’d seen them, imprinted on her eyelids.

“I had to stay home for school,” she said, trying to sound as though it hadn’t mattered so much. “But they went all over the place. Australia of course. Brisbane, Darwin, right across to Perth. To Broome where the pearls are. And various places in Asia.”
 

They’d never taken her with them. Always used her education as an excuse. Not once had they chosen to travel during the school holidays. She’d loved spending those times with Grandma and Grandpa, but even now her parents’ easy desertion rankled. Couldn’t they have included her just once?
 

“Hong Kong and Thailand,” she continued. “And they were keen to see Vietnam once it opened up. Dad started building an ocean-going yacht when I was thirteen. In the yard at home.”
 

“Awesome.”

“I suppose. My older brother Ray already had a job in New York by then.”

“Wow.”
 

Sammie hesitated a moment.

What the hell—she’s nice. She’ll understand.
 

She drew a deep breath. “When I was fifteen they set off on a trial voyage to Fiji. Once I’d left school we were all going to sail around the world together and see my brother on the way.”

She pressed her lips together, as though it would somehow hold the hurt back.

“That must have been amazing.”
 

She shook her head. “Not really. They never made it as far as Fiji. Simply disappeared. Got hit by a whale or bashed into a floating container at night or something. There were no storms in the area. No signal from their emergency beacon.” She glanced across at Tyler and found warmth in her steady gaze. “So...” She shrugged.

“Oh honey, that’s tough. Fifteen. Awful.”

“Yeah.”

“And your brother came home after that?”

“No, I went to live on my grandparents’ orchard. Then my Grandma died. Grandpa said she pined away after losing Mom, but she was always kind of delicate. They had a housekeeping lady for as long as I can remember.”

“What sort of orchard?”

“Apples, up in Hawkes Bay.”

“It’s lovely there. Cam and I stopped off on our honeymoon.”

Sammie straightened her shoulders from the despondent slump they’d settled into. “I’d often had school holidays with them because Mom worked full-time. To help fund the boat and the traveling, I guess. After a few years, Grandpa had a bad stroke and the orchard had was sold. I ended up living with him until he died. He needed someone in the house at nights. End of story.”

She raised her chin and sent Tyler the sort of look that dared her to offer any further sympathy.

She took the hint. “So have you just moved down to Wellington?”
 

“Mmm—last week. I had to clear the house out first.”

Tyler shook her head slightly. “No wonder you want to get away. Where are you staying now?”

“With my brother who’s finally back here with one of the big New Zealand broking houses, and my sister-in-law. They have two boys who fight like crazy. It’s not ideal, but it’s not for long.”

“Would you...” Tyler stopped in mid-sentence. “Let me make a phone-call.”

Another email dinged through.

‘Samantha.’

Sammie rolled her eyes. “What the heck does he want now?” she asked, rising and heading toward Nick’s office.
 

“Yes?” She kept the enquiry clipped short.

He looked up from a stack of papers. Again, the corner of his mouth curled, and Sammie found she had to fight hard to suppress an answering smile.

“You asked if we needed anything to drink. I find we do. Some cold beers?”

He lifted a set of keys from his desk and held them out to her, shaking them so they jingled like a lure to draw her closer. “Take my car and get a chilled twelve-pack from SuperLiquor. They’ll be too heavy for you to carry on foot.”

She stepped forward to take the keys. A flutter of unease rose in her throat; driving in Wellington wasn’t the same as driving at home. She’d made it to Ray and Anita’s in her little hatchback but hadn’t attempted the CBD yet. And she just bet Nick’s car would be something expensive and damage-attracting.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather Tyler drove?”
 

“She’ll never fit behind the wheel.”
 

His smile was broader now. So he’d decided to turn on the charm to see if he could defrost her? Oh, he was so
obvious!

“Brand of beer?” she demanded, more attracted than she wanted to be.

“Stellas?”

“And you’re parked where?”
 

“Back of the building. Alley on the left.”

She reached for the keys. They were hooked over his thumb, and his impatient jiggling had caused the ring to slide down past his knuckle. There was no way she could just lift them off. After a couple of futile attempts, she grabbed his hand to hold it steady and started to work the key-ring deliberately upwards.
 

“You’ve got really big hands,” she said to fill the awkward silence. His flesh burned hot against hers and he made no effort to help. Holding hands with the boss on her first day wasn’t what she’d planned at all. And especially not with this over-muscled, over-worked, less-than-grateful boss. “Big thumbs,” she added unwisely.

“And you know what they say about men with those.” His eyes flicked up to hers and his expression changed to one of deliberate innocence.
 

“No, of course I don’t.”

Skite. Men with big cocks don’t have to boast.

But somehow she just knew he’d be impressive. Knew she’d be x-raying his pants as soon as he wasn’t looking. Could already feel herself heating from imagining what was there.

Then she saw the scar and prickled all over.
 

He was definitely Nicky. No doubt about it. She remembered how he’d gotten that scar. Remembered it had been her fault he’d just about hacked off his forefinger because she’d surprised him as he’d been cutting polythene sheeting up for Grandpa.

Nicky! The shivers of old memories chased themselves up and down her spine.
 

He’d waved the dressing at her every time he’d seen her for days afterwards. Made her look at the stitches when he’d eased it aside the day he was going to have them removed.

Her thirteen-year-old self had peered at them with fascinated horror—wanting to see what they looked like, and wanting even more to know his finger would be whole and healthy again. She’d felt guilty and thrilled to have his attention, so she’d looked without flinching. And then embarrassed herself by pressing a kiss onto the back of his hand as an apology and a good-luck token and a shy sign of the fascination she felt for him before she’d run off.

It seemed not a lot had changed.

CHAPTER TWO

To her intense relief the keys slid free and she whisked them off his far-too-suggestive thumb.

“I’ll go right now,” she said, forgetting to ask what he drove before she dashed away.

Nicky—still getting me hot and bothered.
 

She vowed not to tell him she’d recognized him. He hadn’t recognized her, and that’s how things needed to stay. Why dredge up their embarrassing past?

Remembering the shy little girl she’d been, all long brown braids and owlish glasses, she thought she had a fair enough chance of keeping up the deception for a month.
 

The braids and spectacles were gone, her hair now streaky blonde. Tinted contacts made her grey-green eyes much greener. She looked nothing like the awkward ugly duckling from the orchard.
 

A month. Not even that long, because he’ll be away in Sydney for part of it. Two weeks. Three weeks at worst. Definitely do-able. I managed secrets longer than that when I had to keep Grandpa from worrying.

She rattled the keys as she walked past Tyler. “He wants beers to go with the sushi now.”

“It’ll be the Sydney people then. Check there are enough paper napkins before you go out. I’ll make sure the plates and glasses are clean. Although they won’t bother with glasses. What is it with men and drinking straight from the bottle?” She wrinkled her nose and pulled out one of the desk drawers. “If there’s beer as well, petty cash won’t be enough—I’ll give you the company credit card.”

“You’d think he’d take them out to a bistro for lunch.”

“Not if they want to work.”

Sammie caught something in her expression. “What?”

Tyler’s smile broadened. “Would you like somewhere else to live for a fortnight?”

“Where did you have in mind?”

“My sister’s apartment. She needs someone to feed her cat and water a few plants while she’s in Hawaii. I was going to call in, but”—she looked down at her beach-ball belly—“this one might arrive and make it difficult. My Cam would do it for her of course, but it’d be more secure to have someone living there. Lights switching on and off, blinds going up and down, mail being collected.”

“A house-sitter?”

“Exactly. Will you do it?”

“Will she have me?”

“She’d love to. I just phoned her and suggested it.”

Sammie did a joyful little side-step, tossed the keys in the air and caught them. “Absolutely, yes!”

Nick sat, unmoving for once, staring into space and reviewing what had happened moments ago. His new P.A. was hot. She had a temper. She didn’t like him. Maybe messing with her attitude would be enough fun to help take his mind off everything else.
 

She had great tits. A peachy butt that begged to be spanked. A spiky temper only just under control. She’d wrestled the keys off his thumb as though she was a bossy nanny and he was a small boy who needed putting in his place.
 

He’d like that place to be the hot juicy valley between her jeans-clad thighs.
 

His cock gave a lurch of agreement.
 

Yup, hot body, sharp brain, sharp manner. He leaned back in his leather-covered chair, giving in to his fantasy for a few minutes to take his mind off more serious matters. Maybe having her around was the distraction he needed, because right now he was totally hurt, furious, and confused. For thirty years he’d been made to live a lie, and if he hadn’t been so keen to donate blood, marrow, anything to help his brother’s tiny daughter battle her cancer, he might never have found out.
 

His heart had thumped frantically, and the scalding bile had risen in his throat when he’d been told by old Doc Latimer that he probably wouldn’t be an ideal donor because of the adoption.
 

Adoption? Erin wasn’t adopted.
 

He’d seen Hannah’s belly growing ever larger. He’d joked with a relieved and proud Hal once the baby had been safely delivered.

“Erin’s not adopted,” he’d blurted. And Doc Latimer had realized the enormity of the bomb he’d just dropped, stammered with shock for a few moments, and then found the wisdom to know there was no way to back-track. He’d reached out and clasped Nick’s arm, and said very quietly, “But
you
were, Nick. My God, they never told you? You never suspected? I’m so sorry to have done this to you. You have to talk with your parents.”

So he was not Erin’s uncle. Or Hal and Tony Sharpe’s brother. Or Gaynor and Brian Sharpe’s son.

Adopted? Why the fuck hadn’t they told him? His emotions raged through baffled incomprehension to freezing cold denial.
 

Then to ashamed relief that he wasn’t really part of the less-than-honest Sharpe clan.
 

Finally to blazing anger that they’d duped him for so long; hadn’t they thought him important enough to know his true heritage?