Ice-Breaker Page 3

  The boat had sunk fast. They’d barely gotten the injured boosted up onto the car park before he and Kiara and the others who’d stayed to help had to face reality: the way the boat was listing, it was safer to jump and swim than to try to scramble off.

  Kiara had shed her jacket and kicked off her shoes.

  He’d done the same before grabbing her hand. She’d grinned and he’d reacted on impulse, kissing her; a kiss full of adrenaline and heat.

  Then they’d jumped.

  ‘Selwyn?’ Kiara prompted.

  The waiter was there, trying to take his plate.

  Selwyn leaned back. ‘Sorry. I was thinking of the boat crash in Melbourne, the night I first met you — and your courage.’

  ‘Doing what had to be done isn’t courage. And you were right there, beside me.’

  Beside her sounded good.

  Her gaze flickered from his eyes to his mouth. He wondered if she was remembering their first kiss on the deck of the sinking boat, and the kiss tonight.

  ‘Is it worth it?’ she asked.

  ‘What? Our dinner? If we had room service, I’d —’

  ‘No. Not dinner. The hotel. Us, sitting here. Why did you fly to Hobart to meet me? I’ll be in Sydney in two months to take up my position at the university. My parents must have told you. I’ll be living in their flat. We could have caught up then.’

  ‘We wouldn’t have.’ He paused to thank the waiter for their servings of apple pie and for him to retreat, allowing them privacy.

  Kiara jabbed her spoon into the pastry, then sighed with bliss at the first mouthful. ‘This is heaven.’

  The apple pie was redolent with cinnamon and nutmeg and sprinkled with brown sugar that had melted to a syrupy crust. Generous scoops of homemade vanilla ice cream and fresh cream from a local dairy accompanied it.

  Selwyn focussed on her question. ‘If I’d waited till Sydney to catch up with you, we wouldn’t have connected. You’d have been wrapped in starting your new life and I…’ He allowed himself to be brutally honest. ‘I’d have kept prioritising work until the potential between us faded into regret.’

  ‘Won’t you still do that? If this is time out from life, once you’re back in the office, it’ll be old habits.’

  ‘No.’

  She blinked, ice cream sliding off her suspended spoon.

  ‘If we become a couple, you’d be the most important thing, person, in my life.’ Words were clumsy. He rolled his shoulders. Sometimes it seemed that for the whole of his adult life he’d used words to protect himself, to shut himself off from other people and their demands. As a model and celebrity, he’d deflected attention or directed interviews away from his private life to funny stories or a question about the interviewer. Now he wanted a relationship deeper than sharing the same social celebrity circle and pleasures — and he was finding it hard put that desire into words. He wasn’t used to being vulnerable. ‘Once I make a commitment, I keep it.’

  ‘No pressure, then,’ she muttered as she chased ice cream around her plate with the spoon.

  He smiled, amused by her uncertainty since he shared it. These were unchartered waters. ‘Don’t worry. I’m not contemplating the fastest proposal in history. It’s simple. I wanted time with you, just us. This seemed the easiest way to eliminate all distractions.’

  She looked at him, her gorgeous hazel eyes clear and curious. ‘And when we get back to our rooms. By ourselves. What then?’

  ‘Not sex.’ He guessed her suspicions and echoed her words of the afternoon, his own mood lifting. ‘I thought, television.’

  ‘TV?’ She put down her spoon. ‘The perfect end to a romantic dinner with the world’s sexiest bachelor.’ She laughed.

  He grinned. ‘What could be more real than a guy more interested in late-night sports than in sex with his girlfriend?’

  She was laughing too hard to answer.

  ***

  Kiara scrubbed off her make-up, grimaced at her reddened skin and smoothed on a night cream. She wrinkled her nose at her reflection. If Selwyn wanted reality, here it was. She changed into her faded tartan flannel pyjamas, veterans of the Subantarctic expedition, and padded barefoot out to the living room.

  He’d lost his jacket and tie, and undone the collar of his shirt. He had bare feet, too, propped up on an oversized ottoman as he lounged on the sofa. He patted the seat beside him.

  She settled in and his arm went around her. It felt good. She curled up, getting comfy. She’d expected to feel a bit awkward. Instead, she focussed on the television and discovered that a game of rugby league had just started; two New South Wales teams. Awesome. ‘My cousin used to play professionally.’

  ‘I know.’ Mischief vied with smugness in his expression.

  She tore her attention from the game to study him. ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Your dad mentioned once that a nephew had played for New South Wales — and that you were a huge rugby league fan.’

  ‘You’ve been getting inside information.’

  ‘Shh.’ He looked straight at the television. ‘Game’s on.’

  She shook her head in disbelief at his nerve at telling her to shh, even as a warm, cared-for feeling crept through her. The rugby league game on television proved that he truly wanted her to be comfortable and to share experiences with him. Moreover, and despite his teasing hush, the great thing about football was that — unless you were watching with a fanatic — you could talk while play went on. Something she suspected Selwyn had factored in. It meant that they could continue to get to know each other while the game provided a safe background distraction. Although, after how he’d shared his difficult transition from famous model to perhaps equally famous do-gooder, her trust in him was already high. She smiled. ‘Do you know why I’m such a rugby league fan?’

  ‘Family loyalty?’

  ‘Huh. Caleb didn’t care if I watched him play or not — but the girls I went to boarding school did.’

  ‘Clever, Kiara.’

  She laughed, pleased he’d caught on so fast. Her older cousin’s footy status had been her entrée to acceptance at school. ‘But once I started watching the games, I enjoyed it. I find the controlled violence relaxing,’ she teased.

  ‘Blood-thirsty wench.’

  ‘Did you play?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Thought so.’ He had the strong body and fitness of an athlete, and the competitive edge.

  The difficulty, as the game progressed, was her growing awareness of just how warm and solid Selwyn was all along her right side. She twisted and her breast squashed up against his ribs.

  ‘You do know you’re killing me here,’ he said, eyes still on the television.

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t want to be suffering alone.’

  He laughed under his breath and turned fully to her. He slid a hand under her pyjama top and up along her rib cage to cup her breast.

  They both sighed at the contact.

  ‘Right.’ Abruptly he dragged her up and onto his lap, her back to his front, so that they both faced the television. Her legs fell either side of his thighs and he pushed up her top to play with her breasts.

  ‘Um.’ She wasn’t sure how she felt about the position.

  ‘Quiet. Game’s on.’

  She rolled her eyes at that bit of hypocrisy. Like he was interested in the game. But his hands felt wonderful. She relaxed into the spice of naughtiness that was watching football while he played with her breasts.

  And then it was half-time.

  She stood, turned and settled astride him.

  He was hard under her and his eyes a dark, stormy blue. He put his hands on her hips while she ran hers over his chest and shoulders, pushing aside his shirt.

  Their kiss was thunder and lightning, the summer storm that broke with electric drama after the long, sultry build-up.

  She ached for him.

  His hips jerked beneath her and she ground down as his fingers dug into her butt and their kiss went wild and raw. Her teeth
scraped his lower lip and he growled.

  He flipped her down onto the sofa.

  She cried out at the excitement of his weight pinning her there, arching up not to throw him off but to get more contact.

  ‘How far?’

  She didn’t understand, only knew that his mouth was tantalisingly close, but not on hers.

  He drew back a fraction more. ‘I promised no sex.’

  But she was an equal partner here, inciting him, demanding her own and their shared satisfaction. She had a responsibility to control the situation, too. She blinked, trying to think, trying to remember why she’d demanded no sex.

  ‘I want to get you off,’ he said.

  Her whole body shuddered.

  ‘May I?’

  She shoved down her pyjama pants and put his hand there.

  Big, gentle fingers slicked with her wanting.

  Incredible intimacy invaded the passion burning between them. He held her gaze as he rubbed and teased, then slid a finger inside her.

  She’d been so aware of him all evening, half-aroused, that her orgasm claimed her fast.

  ‘You are beautiful.’ He caressed her.

  Little shivers detonated under her skin.

  ‘I’ve never wanted a woman as badly as I need you.’

  Chapter 4

  Kiara woke up alone in the giant hotel bed with its hedonistic tumble of pillows and satin quilt. Alone was the key word. She gathered up the quilt, wrapped it around her and went over to the window seat to think things through.

  Barely dawn, the river had the sheen of shimmering steel, and shadows and mist clung to the trees.

  Last night, Selwyn had controlled the situation. He’d called a halt to their love-making, departing for a cold shower and leaving her confused. What sort of man said he wanted her — needed her — then vanished?

  A man who protected his privacy and himself with a fierce lack of trust.

  The instinctive answer had her raising her chin from her knees and staring out at two ducks paddling in the shallows.

  It wasn’t just her who was freaked by the idea of letting someone into the heart of her life. Selwyn wasn’t sure either. They were dancing — together and apart — wanting and fearing. It was part of who they were: independent beings.

  For her, growing up as the stranger in a strange land, she’d learned to hold herself aloof. She protected herself from letting anyone too close, a trait caused by all the friends she’d left behind when her parents moved on to their next job. It was safer to be complete in herself, and she’d thought Selwyn astute to realise he’d need to catch her away from her ordinary life, cut off from her defences of work and routine.

  Instead, he was struggling with his own demons. As a celebrity, his privacy must have been invaded so many times — perhaps even his trust betrayed — that he had to control a situation to feel comfortable.

  He was finding it hard to let her into his life.

  The sun rose over the horizon and flooded the river with gold.

  Kiara reached for her phone.

  ***

  ‘Wait.’

  Selwyn paused with his hand on the door to the hallway. He had an early-morning date with the gym, but the voice of the woman he’d run out on last night, halted him.

  Kiara didn’t sound angry, but she had every right to be. No woman wanted a coward.

  He braced. Hours spent thinking of her hadn’t inspired him with the words of apology needed. He’d run from his own vulnerability. She could become more important to him than his own life, and he didn’t know how to deal with it. Wanting her, feeling a connection to her and knowing that with her background she’d understand the demands of his work had all seemed solid reasons for pursuing a relationship — that and he couldn’t forget her. But last night, watching her climax had undone him. It wasn’t sensible to want her as much as he did, and that freaked him. He was all about control.

  He wouldn’t handle rejection from her well.

  ‘Good morning.’ When he dared look at her, her smile shocked him.

  ‘Morning.’ Bright, sunny, with a hint of Cheshire cat grin, she walked up to him. ‘I have a plan.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘Relax.’ She actually patted his chest. ‘It’s not sex.’

  ‘About that…about last night.’

  She ignored him. ‘I thought we’d go sailing. A friend’s lending us his sloop. I can sail it single-handed.’

  ‘I can sail.’

  ‘Great.’ She gave him an up and down glance. ‘You might want to change your clothes.’

  ‘Five minutes.’ He took two steps to his room, swung back and kissed her, hard and fast.

  ‘What was that for?’

  ‘For not packing and leaving.’

  ‘Ah.’ She smiled faintly.

  He didn’t try to interpret that mysterious expression, but stripped off his gym clothes for jeans and a windproof jacket that matched her outfit.

  ‘We can grab breakfast on the way.’ Kiara straightened from leaning against the back of a sofa and strolled to the door. ‘The sloop is back at the docks. I thought we could sail up the river for a bit while the wind’s good.’

  ‘You’re the skipper.’

  ‘I’m glad you’ve realised.’

  He knew the casual statement had a deeper meaning. Their incipient relationship was not his to control. There was give and take, an equal partnership. He could do this. ‘You can keelhaul me if I disobey.’

  She glanced back at him over her shoulder. ‘Oh, I can think of something more fun.’

  ‘That sounds like a dare.’

  ‘We’ll see.’

  ***

  Kiara abandoned herself to the physical joy of sailing. It had been months since she’d been out on a small boat, and although the skills remained, she felt the burn of the unaccustomed activity, of different muscles at work. She breathed the chill air off the water as she stood at the tiller and watched Selwyn.

  He balanced easily on the Fairweather as he responded to the wind and the river, and Kiara’s skippering. He could have been a Viking on holiday; in command of and rejoicing in his element, the sea. Yet, he kept his word and followed her orders. Although his half-grin dared her to ask for more, dared her to try to control six-foot plus of arrogant male.

  She was shocked, almost uncomfortable, with how that challenge aroused her.

  There was an honesty in sailing. You worked together or the boat floundered. The raw, deep-in-the-muscles-and-nerves knowledge that sex between them would be just as honest and even more satisfying had her aching.

  If she were to kiss him now, his lips would have a trace of salt from sea spray and his skin would be cool from it, warming at their contact. If his hands were cool when he slid them under her clothes, she’d shiver at his touch; a piercing pleasure-pain that would have her pressing into the heat of his hard body.

  ‘Do you see the dolphin?’ He turned to her, smiling. The smile died as their eyes met. He cast a quick, assessing glance at the sails and the empty water around them and crossed to the tiller. He gripped her arms, hauled her in close and kissed her.

  With the tiller at her back, she braced her feet against the rocking of the boat and her own rocketing emotions.

  The cold wildness of the sea was on his lips, vanishing as their kiss heated everything. She hated having to draw back to watch the sloop as the wind filled the sails. She turned to adjust the tiller.

  ‘Head home.’ He kissed the tender skin below her ear, his hands smoothing over her hips, tugging her into the V of his legs.

  She stretched her spine like a cat, relishing the full-body contact. ‘If we do, no changing your mind.’

  ‘That’s up to you,’ he said.

  She looked at him over her shoulder.

  His blue eyes were intense. ‘Will you make room for me in your life in Sydney?’

  He wanted a commitment, not casual sex. Not a commitment for forever, but for more than she usually gave anyone.


  ‘Yes.’

  The run home showed her just how much Selwyn had understated his sailing expertise. He didn’t try to replace her as skipper, but he was only seconds from anticipating her orders. Lines and sails moved with rapidity. She needed all her familiarity with the river to match his skill. It was exhilarating. Her blood pulsed and her breathing quickened. She laughed aloud from sheer joyous anticipation.

  Once onshore and with the sloop secured, she dumped the remains of their sandwich lunch in the bin.

  He rattled the car keys. The teasing failed to mask the need in his expression. His eyes followed her every move.

  She dusted her hands on her jeans and walked up to him. Her balance was good. She stood on tiptoes and kissed him. Okay, maybe her balance wasn’t so good. Her knees wobbled. ‘Why did you choose a hotel so far out of town?’

  A hint of dimple indented his left cheek at her wry complaint. ‘Poor planning.’

  ‘Mmhmm.’ She leant into him for a minute, inhaling the clean male scent of him. Pheromone overload. She wanted him naked, skin to skin.

  ‘Get in the car,’ he ground out, no smiles now.

  They were suddenly past teasing.

  He drove in silence, hands competent on the wheel and the speed of the car controlled. Rain began to fall. The tyres hissed on the wet road.

  In her mind, he stopped the car on a side road, completely hidden, no houses, just shrouding trees, and they made out like teenagers. Desperate, just-discovering sex teenagers.

  But they weren’t teenagers. Sex wasn’t divorced from life or without consequences.

  In the hotel car park there was a moment of complete silence, of stillness, when he switched off the engine. If either of them were going to change their mind, now was the time.

  He got out of the car, walked around it and opened her door. He held out his hand.

  She took it, stepping out, straightening up and moving into his embrace. ‘Yes,’ she whispered against his ear.

  Hand-in-hand they walked inside the hotel, up its grand staircase and into their suite. The door closed behind them and the lock clicked.

  No words were needed. They shed their jackets and then other clothes, scattering boots and shirts and underwear in a trail to his room and the giant bed that dominated it. Kisses had never been so drugging, stealing away her inhibitions so that she could walk naked the last few steps to the bed and fall onto it.