Page 25 of Blame it on the Bikini

His fingers tickled as he suddenly grinned. ‘I wasn’t actually thinking of anything that kinky,’ he teased. ‘But maybe you were.’

Colour heated her cheeks. ‘What I think of as kinky you probably think of as tame,’ she muttered defensively.

‘You can ask me for anything,’ he murmured.

She nodded. ‘It’s not the right time for a relationship for me and you never want one … but for now—’

‘There’s just now.’ His arms tightened around her and he stood, carrying her down to his room.

Mya reached out and switched on the light as they passed it.

‘I love this wallpaper.’ She gazed at the green vines climbing the white paper. ‘It still stuns me you’re into floral.’

‘It’s not floral,’ he said firmly, planting her on the bed and tugging off her jeans. ‘It’s jungle.’

‘That’s floral.’ She rolled onto her stomach and pointed to the small vase on the bedside table filled with sweet-smelling summer roses.

‘Women like flowers,’ he said blandly, bending to kiss the small of her back.

Oh, he might talk all sophisticated loverman, but it wasn’t quite as it seemed and she knew it. ‘No, you had flowers there that first time I visited, and you didn’t know I was coming.’

‘I’m always prepared for an overnight female guest.’ He emphasised the tease with a nip of his teeth.

‘No.’ She rolled to face him and grabbed a fistful of his shirt to pull him onto her. ‘You prefer to sleep at their houses so you can do the “quickie and exit” in the morning. The only reason I’m here is because you know I’ll leave early. You know I’m not going to linger and make for an awkward morning-after moment.’ She met his darkened gaze and determinedly ignored the way his fingers were stroking closer and closer to her nipple. ‘So the flowers are here because you like them. Furthermore—’

‘There’s more?’

‘Oh, there is. I have all the evidence for this case. You grow the roses in your garden.’

‘Okay, so I grow the roses,’ he admitted. ‘Are you going to tease me about it?’

‘Of course not.’ She rubbed her fingers against his stubble. ‘They’re beautiful.’

His amusement turned wicked. ‘I get pleasure from watching something bloom. I appreciate form, nature’s “curves”.’ His hand slid over her hips and between her thighs.

‘You can try to hide behind some sexy talk, but the fact is you’re talented. You really care about your roses.’

‘I really like curves.’ He burrowed down the bed more. ‘I like pretty pink flowers too.’ He pulled her knees apart. ‘And you’re right, I like to look after them.’ He bent and kissed her there, his tongue circling in ever-teasing strokes, before sliding inside.

Mya had given up on her analysis the moment he touched her. Her eyes closed as sensation rippled out from deep within her. He turned her on so quickly.

When she was wrung out and panting he rose, wearing the smile of a victor. She wound her arms around his waist and pulled him close.

‘Mmm,’ he groaned appreciatively as she wriggled beneath him. ‘I’ve discovered a liking for clinging flowers.’

‘What about carnivorous ones?’ She arched swiftly and ate him whole.

But later as she tumbled towards sleep in his arms she reminded herself exactly how long this fling was going to last. Brad might have said no limitations, but as far as she was concerned it was for one week and one week only. She only had two lecture-free weeks over the Christmas break. The first was his, the second was for her assignments and exam study. There’d be no room for him in her life from then on. Abstinence had failed; an overdose had to work. One week of indulgence.

CHAPTER TEN

SHE came to him every night. And every night it was the same but different—variations on a theme. So many, many wonderful variations. He delighted in his deepening knowledge of her—he sought to learn what she liked, what made her shiver, the slow discovery of all her secrets. But finding enough time to see her was hard. Frantic sex followed by sleep followed by more frantic sex before she left for work. He sometimes had lunch with her—a snatched ten minutes before he was due in court or before she had a lecture. Ten minutes wasn’t enough. He went back to the bar in the early evenings but then left to get more work done—and to let her work.

There wasn’t enough time. Mya grasped the few moments they had but it felt like the glitter from the party—impossible to catch and hold. Just an ephemeral, beautiful shimmer. So she was determined to make the most of it. Brad seemed more intent than ever on ‘just having fun’ too—as if he was also aware of how brief this would be.

She stretched in his big bed, slowly and so reluctantly coming awake after what felt like only five minutes’ sleep. She could hear him talking—dozily she listened to one half of an incisive discussion on some point of law. She smiled as she snoozed. He sounded so authoritative—which he was on this, of course—quoting from case after case, and given that she could hear he was pacing down the far end of the hall, she knew he was recalling those cases from his own memory, not that of a computer. Geek. Question was why he was talking so early in the morning.

She sat up and looked at her watch. It wasn’t just early in the morning—it was still the middle of the night. She’d really had only a little more than five minutes’ sleep.

She slipped out of bed and wrapped a towel round herself and tiptoed down the hall. She could see the light in his office was on, and she paused in the doorway. He stood at his desk, his hair a crumpled mess, unshaven, circles under his eyes, still on that difficult call.

She took a step back and went back to the bedroom, not wanting to eavesdrop. But in the silent house, his voice carried—his concern was obvious. She waited a very long time for him to return to bed. But even though he’d stopped talking quite some time ago now, he still didn’t come down the hall. So she got up again—concerned.

From in his office doorway, she saw him sitting at his desk, his face a portrait of worry. She’d noticed before how tired he sometimes looked when he thought no one was watching. The animated, charming façade slipped on when people talked to him. She didn’t want him to feel as if he had to put that mask on for her. She understood now that he covered up with the charm factor. Why did he feel the need to maintain the image? When he claimed to hate that manufactured perfection in his parents’ home? In a way he was as guilty of it as they were.

But then he closed his eyes and put his head in his hands.

‘Brad?’ She swiftly walked into the room, round the side of his desk and put her arms around him. It was an instinctive, caring gesture. Nothing sexual, just the comfort of a hug. ‘What’s wrong?’

For a long time he said nothing. But then there was a sigh and a mumble. ‘Christmas is bad for most of my kids.’

My kids. The word meant much. She softened inside. He cared deeply, but he didn’t like to display it for everyone. ‘Something’s happened?’

‘Gage has run away.’

Mya bit her lip. Two days out from Christmas? Things must be bad. ‘Who’s Gage?’

‘A client. His parents split a while back. He’s been shuttling between them for a few years, but it’s never been easy. His father had a new partner on the scene but they’ve split up recently.’ He sighed. ‘What’s worse, do you think? Being fought over, or not being noticed or wanted at all?’ He glanced

at her. ‘Or being expected to carry the expectations and dreams and ambitions of generations?’

She shook her head. ‘It depends.’

‘It does,’ he said tiredly. ‘I should have spotted there was something badly wrong,’ he added quietly. ‘I should have seen it. I knew he’d been truanting. I knew he hadn’t been talking to the psych. But I—’

‘You’re not his parent.’

‘I’m his advocate. I should know what it is he wants.’

‘And do you?’

He stared sightlessly at the desk. ‘I’m not sure. He’s on the run but if I were to guess I’d say he’ll head to his dad’s ex. She’s been the one there. But she lives in another town now. She wasn’t married to the guy. She’s not a guardian. In theory she has no legal claim to Gage.’

‘But if he wants to stay with her, if she wants him—can you help them?’

‘Maybe. That’s if he is heading there, if he is okay.’ He looked worried. ‘Not all stepmothers are wicked.’

And not all playboys were heartless.

‘It’s really sad,’ she said.

He nodded. ‘And if he doesn’t turn up soon, he’s only going to make it harder for himself to get what he wants.’

‘I’m sorry, Brad.’

He rubbed his forehead, as if he could rub away the stress. ‘You should go get some sleep.’

‘Not without you.’ There was one thing she could give him—the one thing he’d wanted from her. It wasn’t much, but it was all she had, and she wanted to give him comfort now. She didn’t know how she was going to do it, but after Christmas she was walking away from him. She’d been such a fool to think she could handle this. ‘You do an incredible job,’ she whispered. He was an incredible person.

‘Not good enough,’ he muttered. ‘Not this time. I should have spotted it, Mya. Hell, I hope he’s okay.’

‘He will be.’ She hugged him tighter. ‘Don’t feel bad,’ she urged. ‘You help so many people. You’ll help him too.’

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