Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

A fter brushing her teeth, Britt took a final glance in the mirror. Without makeup, the freckles on her nose stood out like sprinkles on a cupcake, and her loose hair had frizzed courtesy of the humidity.

Just the look she'd aimed for…before she'd taken a bath and had that little revelation to make the most of the next two months with the sexiest guy to walk the planet.

Her bad boy.

Who was doing his best to appear good, but she knew better, knew the underlying rebellious streak that lent him a dangerous edge she found infinitely appealing.

Most girls went through a bad-boy phase, lusting after guys they shouldn't, guys with attitude, guys you wouldn't dare bring home to meet the folks.

Nick had been her James Dean, Marlon Brando, and Sean Penn rolled into one and, while the designer suits and air of success had softened the edges, he was the same sexy rebel underneath.

But it was more than that, so much more, and the way her heart squeezed every time he entered a room these last few days proved she'd developed a monstrous crush on her rebel all over again. A crush she finally planned to indulge.

However, she had a problem. The pyjamas she'd brought were a deeply unsexy pair she'd purchased especially to appear as unappealing as possible. Her body hummed with the heat of the bath and anticipation, but the fuchsia stripes wouldn't do the job.

As for the lingerie she'd intended on using to prove her point tonight, it had taken a tumble into the sink while she'd been brushing her teeth and there was no way she was walking into their bedroom wearing wet, see-through, ivory lace.

That left only one option.

Wrapping the towel around her damp body, she took a deep breath and prepared to leave the safe haven of the bathroom.

Only a towel between her and Nick. As if she wasn't nervous enough.

Nick had his back to her and she was grateful for that extra shot of oxygen a second ago, because the moment she caught sight of him her lungs seized.

Soft black cotton moulded his broad shoulders, hugging the muscular contours of his back before tapering to a narrow waist, tucked into faded denim. His signature outfit ten years ago, black T shirts and denim, a clichéd bad-boy outfit, but she'd never cared. He'd always looked delectable and nothing had changed.

With her eyes fixed on his butt, she must've made an embarrassing sound akin to a groan because he turned, his gaze zeroing in on her bare skin.

His eyes widened and he swallowed. Britt smiled, his reaction fuelling her faltering courage.

He shook his head as if to break himself out of a trance, cleared his throat, and finally spoke in a low, dangerous tone.

'Just so you know, if you're planning on keeping this marriage platonic, you'll definitely need a few more clothes. Maybe an entire wardrobe.'

His low tone held a hint of warning she had no intention of heeding.

Britt could see the barely contained bad boy. The thought of what might happen when he broke out added further to her inner trembling.

'I wanted to talk about that—'

"Yeah?" His response came so fast it interrupted her mid-sentence and she gaped at him like an idiot for a moment, her train of thought derailed. 'You were saying? Something about seducing me?'

His wide grin broke the tension as she remembered how much she liked this man.

'You wish.'

'You have no idea how much.'

The intensity of his stare made her stomach plummet in a frightening freefall as liquid heat pooled in places long ignored, every inch of her hungry body on high alert as the bed dipped when he sat next to her.

While her scrambled brains tried to form the words she was having such a hard time articulating, he sighed. 'But I thought about it, and you're right.'

What? No. Before she could protest, he continued. ‘I know you, Britt. I can tell you're not interested in changing the status quo between us. You don't want to ruin a good working relationship. You don't want to risk wrecking our deal by letting sex get in the way of the sound business decision we've made, right?'

Wrong.

Logically, he made perfect sense and he'd reiterated the arguments she'd been having with herself ever since she'd said yes to his ridiculous proposal.

Emotionally, she wanted to rant and scream and kick her slippers into the Great Barrier Reef, because now she'd made up her mind to alleviate some of this growing tension between them she didn't want to take the safe, sensible option anymore.

But what could she say? Backing down from her previous stance would make her seem fickle, indecisive, and decidedly stupid, not to mention shooting down any credibility in convincing him her acceptance of his proposal was one hundred per cent business.

For him, having sex would be satisfying his lust. For her, it was so much more and he'd know it. She'd told him ten years earlier and knowing Nick he wouldn't have forgotten.

‘So let's stick to business, right?'

With a sinking heart, she nodded. 'Right.'

‘Glad we got that settled.'

He didn't move, and when she raised her eyes to his she knew nothing was settled, far from it. Nick might be singing the business tune but his eyes gobbled her up and came back for seconds.

'Britt?'

She swallowed, knowing her voice would come out squeaky if she didn't, because the longer he stared at het, the harder it was to breathe.

'Yeah?'

'You made a breathtaking bride.'

His compliment didn't make her blush as much as the memory of how she'd envisioned him taking her wedding dress off.

'The dress was pretty special—'

'I wasn't talking about the dress.'

His hand snaked across the bed and rested on hers, the simple touch setting her body alight as her gaze flew to his, unable to look away even if she wanted to. Tension crackled between them as she wavered between yanking her hand out from under his to re-establish equilibrium and closing the short distance between them and straddling his lap.

'You're still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.'

A soft, wistful sigh escaped her lips, a sigh filled with hope and fear and wishes that things could be different for them, that this could be a real wedding night in every sense of the word.

Mustering a smile, she said, 'And you're still the charmer.'

He winked. 'Is it working?'

'Depends why you're trying to charm me.'

'Ah…the million-dollar question…'

Rather than releasing her hand, his thumb traced slow circles on the back of it, grazing her knuckles, dipping into the grooves, sending heat spiralling through her body.

Her eyes drifted shut, as if she could block out his touch and what it was doing to her body, but if anything the sensations increased tenfold.

Her nerve endings snapped to attention with every caress, every muscle liquefied with the barest brush of his thumb, and when he stroked her fingers from knuckle to tip the tension strumming her body coalesced into a fiery yearning that had her leaping off the bed like he'd prodded her.

'I'm really tired.'

His knowing gaze told her he knew exactly why she'd retreated yet thankfully he didn't push it.

'Okay. Do you want to have supper? I can get Room Service to bring us up something or would you prefer bed?'

‘Bed.' To her endless embarrassment, she blushed. ‘I'm not hungry. Be back in a sec.'

She dashed to the bathroom, ditched the towel, and pulled on the ugly pyjamas, before rushing back into the bedroom and sliding under the six-hundred-thread-count sheets. The sooner she feigned sleep, the sooner she could avoid looking at his delicious body and wishing he was supper.

'You sure?'

His deep, husky chuckle had her imagining warmed honey drizzled across his torso and strawberries dipped in chocolate nestled in his navel and she swallowed, at serious risk of drooling.

'I'm sure. Now, if you don't mind, I need sleep. So scoot.'

'Huh?'

'The couch? You know, that thing next to the table over there?'

He mustered his best puppy-dog look, the one he'd perfected back in high school, the same one that melted her heart.

'I can't sleep on that. It doesn't convert into a sofa bed, it's two feet too short and has rocks under the cushions.'

'Well, you can't expect me to sleep there.'

And she'd be a fool to consider letting him share the bed. By the longing look he cast the bed, she wouldn't have much choice.

'Red, as attractive as you look in that contraception-on-legs outfit, this bed is big enough to fit four people. I'm sure we can share without getting into too much trouble.'

She almost would've believed him, if the last few tension-filled minutes hadn't happened. They might've agreed to a sex-free wedding night but with nerves knotting her stomach, her skin prickling with heat, and the rest of her buzzing from repressed need, she knew trouble could be a tumble in the sack away.

But what choice did she have? She couldn't subject him to a sleepless night, it wouldn't be fair, or mature. She could do this. Sharing a bed with Nick would be like having a friend over for a slumber party. And guaranteed she'd be the one spending a sleepless night.

'We can put pillows down the middle if you think that'll help,' he said, his grin mocking her, and she briefly wondered what had happened to her bath pep talk.

Lying in the giant bed with the sheets almost pulled up to her neck like a blushing virgin screamed prude and not the sassy city girl she liked to think herself. Why couldn't she share a bed with Nick in a non-sexual way?

Because she wanted him. Real bad.

That' s when it hit her. If she couldn't tell him what she wanted, what if she showed him by giving him a little payback teasing?

She sat up straighter, allowing the sheet to dip, and mustered a smile that would tempt a saint.

'No pillows needed. I'll keep my hands to myself, promise.'

To her surprise, his cocky grin slipped, as if he hadn't expected her to agree with him, let alone flirt back.

Oh yeah, this could be fun.

'You better not grope me in my sleep,' he muttered, sending her an almost hopeful look she'd do exactly that.

'Hands off, remember?'

'In that case, move over.'

Now they'd settled the sleeping arrangements fairly painlessly, the rest wouldn't be too difficult.

Think slumber party. Think friends. Think harmless fun. Easy.

However, the instant she dropped her guard, Nick did something to shock her all over again.

'What are you doing?' She shrieked as he undid the zip on his jeans and shucked out of them, standing next to the bed wearing the sexiest, briefest pair of black silk boxers she'd ever seen.

'I'm getting ready for bed. You don't expect me to sleep in jeans, do you?'

'No, but don't you own PJs?'

He shook his head, looking proud of the fact as she struggled to keep her gaze averted from those boxers and the lean, muscled legs beneath them. Sheesh, he looked good enough to eat—and she definitely couldn't go there.

‘It's too hot for pyjamas.' He winked. ‘Besides, you should be grateful. I usually sleep nude.'

That shut her up as she squeezed her eyes shut and prayed for a miracle. Her slumber-party theory wasn't working, not with Nick standing there in his sexy underwear.

'Trying to imagine what I look like without the boxers, huh? Well, if you open your eyes, I can give you a demo—'

'No!' She yelled, her eyes flying open against her better judgement in the faint hope he'd follow through with his threat. 'Just get under the damn sheets and keep your underwear on.'

'Your loss.'

He had the audacity to shrug out of his T-shirt, toss it on a chair and slide in next to her, flashing a dazzling smile in the process. Cocky, brash, and totally shameless.

The next ten hours would be hell. Or heaven, depending how she looked at it and right now, with an amazing expanse of broad, tanned chest on display, heaven seemed uncomfortably closer to the mark.

‘Goodnight, Red. Pleasant dreams.'

As if. Pleasant would be the last word she'd use to describe what she knew would be an erotic kaleidoscope of images that would plague her all night long.

She turned off the lamp, grateful she couldn't see him anymore. Not that she needed to. The image of Nick standing next to the bed wearing nothing but those black boxers and a smile would be a memory to treasure for years to come.

'Can I ask you something?'

She sighed and rolled over to face him, her eyes adjusting to the darkness slowly and just able to make out his reclining form at a safe distance across the bed. Though was a few feet really safe? This was Nick Mancini she was sharing a bed with, the Nick Mancini she'd loved as a teenager and missed for years.

'You will anyway, so go ahead.'

'Why did you run away?'

'I didn't.' The defensive words popped out before she thought about it, an instant response to a subject she'd rather avoid.

'Yeah, you did.'

His whisper floated on the darkness, a mixture of accusation and regret, and she wondered how he'd felt at the time.

When she'd first arrived in London, she'd been too busy coping with her pain to think about anything else. The men she loved kept hurting her—her dad, then Nick—and she'd struggled to hold everything together while trying to build a new life.

Part of her coping strategy had been to paint Nick in a bad light: he wasn't worthy of her, he didn't care, he wasn't capable of emotions.

But what if she'd been wrong?

What if he had cared and there was another reason behind his refusal to accompany her?

After all, she'd hidden her real reason for fleeing.

'I needed a new start.'

The partial truth. She couldn't tell him the real reason behind her desperate yearning for a new start.

'But why London? You hung around Brisbane for a month before you left Australia, so you could've stayed there. Even Sydney or Melbourne at a pinch, places where we could've kept in contact, tried to maintain a rel…' He trailed off and she resisted the urge to sit bolt upright and flick the light on.

Had she heard right? Was he saying they could've had a relationship if she hadn't wanted to get as far away from her father as possible?

'Maintain a what?' she prompted, eager to hear the words but almost wishing he wouldn't say them.

What was the point of bringing this up now? She couldn't change the past, couldn't change what she'd done, and knowing she could've had a future with Nick outside Jacaranda would hurt her all over again.

'A really strong friendship,' he finished, and disappointment pierced her.

So what? Wasn't that better than hearing that he might've loved her as much as she'd loved him?

'I know I acted like a jerk before you left, I know we had our share of troubles, but we were really good friends. I missed that after you left.'

Wow, he'd missed her. And admitted it.

Time to lighten the mood before she lost her head completely, blurted the truth, and sought comfort in his strong arms.

'I didn't think you cared.'

'I cared.' His admission hung in the silence between them, laden with untold truths and forgotten dreams. 'But hey, life happens.'

This time, he broke the tension with a forced chuckle. 'We've both come a long way. And however many times I tied your hair to a chair or put frogs in your bag, I still care. Goodnight.'

Nick's acknowledgement filled her with a slow, delicious warmth that seeped through her body, leaving her cocooned in a relaxing haze.

How could she maintain her immunity when he said stuff like that?

Better yet, did she want to?

'Don't let the bed bugs bite,' she murmured, snuggling under the sheets and closing her eyes, hoping for sleep and knowing it was useless.

She had too much to think about, starting with her re-awakening feelings for a man best left in her past.