Cross My Hart, page 11
‘How many hours?’ he asks, running his hand over the side of my breast. I groan softly.
‘Too many.’
He lifts his head up, looking at me. ‘We could always...renegotiate the terms of our deal. Cancel the day and go straight back to bed...’
God. I want to. And that in and of itself is a red flag, because this is the most important deal of my career. ‘But you’re not a man to go back on his word,’ I say softly. ‘And this means too much to me to ever worry I stuffed it up.’
His brow furrows as he takes those words in but, before he can respond, a whistle sounds from the boat. We look in that direction to see the instructor waving the ‘come in’ flag. I pull my hand away from his and smile. ‘Let’s go, Mr Hart. There’s plenty more in store for you today.’
* * *
‘You need your legs a little further apart.’ I stand behind her, wanting to scrap this game of golf, throw her over my shoulder and drag her to the nearest damned bunker, just like I’ve been wanting to all damned day.
This means too much to me.
I gather Grace’s assistant organised this day to show me the charms of the resort. Pity I can’t see past the charms of Grace’s arse. And her breasts. And her laugh. And her stories.
I bring my hands around behind her, holding the golf club over her hands, my arm brushing her breast as I guide her swing. ‘Good,’ I murmur into her ear. ‘And now strike.’
She brings the club down and misses the ball, then laughs.
I laugh with her. ‘Once more.’
‘What am I, up to like a hundred strikes?’
‘It’s a practice round. We won’t tell anyone.’
She spins in my arms, her smile contagious. ‘Now, now, Mr Hart, I’m not a cheat.’
‘Of course not.’
‘How about you play and I’ll watch?’
‘Oh, believe me, this is much more fun.’
‘But I suck. I mean, I really, really suck,’ she says with a quirk of her lips.
‘You have other talents that compensate.’
‘Yeah? Such as?’
It’s been a huge day. We were on the reef for three hours, then in the restaurant for lunch with Orion Karakedes. I could have done without it, to be honest—Grace was back in business mode, so sexy and in control, so incredibly intelligent—but I didn’t want to hear about the historical expansion of the resort, nor the design of the golf course. Everything can be put in a report—a report I can read later.
The time is ticking—no, it’s rushing—and soon Grace will be gone, I’ll be gone, this will be over. I’d rather not have wasted ninety minutes sharing a table with Orion Karakedes.
She went back to her room after lunch for an hour and I fought an urge to follow her, to knock on the door and tell her to scrap the afternoon. I had work to catch up on anyway, emails that couldn’t wait. Golf, though, seemed like a torturous prolonging of our day.
Now, however, her body so close to mine, her butt pressed against my cock as she tries to perfect her swing for the hundredth time, I think I’ll never play a round of golf without wishing Grace was with me—lousy swing included.
‘Good,’ I murmur as she brings the club up again. This time, when she draws it down, she chips the ball nicely and it sails down the fairway.
She watches it and, despite the fact it hooks left and lands wide of what could be considered a fair placement, she jumps up and down in excitement.
‘I did it!’ She’s so damned excited, so proud of herself, my gut rolls and I nod, returning her beaming smile.
‘Yeah, you did.’
‘And I thought this would be hard.’ She laughs, sliding the club back into the bag.
‘Your go.’
I arch a brow. ‘Sure.’ I line up my tee and swing at it, knocking it down the fairway and onto the green.
She pouts. ‘So, you’re really good at this.’
I nod. ‘Yeah. I’ve had a lot of practice.’
I choose an iron for her and we walk towards her ball. ‘The country club.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Was it like this?’ She sweeps her hand, gesturing to the course.
I stand still, my eyes following her movement. The hills roll gently in every direction, the sky is a bright azure blue and the ocean glistens just beyond the course, spectacularly turquoise and inviting. This morning I saw colours I didn’t know existed in the corals on the bottom of the reef. Knowing that’s out there, this ancient, exotic wilderness, calls to something inside of me.
‘No.’ My voice is gruff. I clear my throat. ‘I’ve never seen anything like this.’
When I flick my gaze to her face, there’s a knowing—and somewhat smug—smile hovering on her lips.
‘Don’t,’ I say. I laugh, though, and resist an urge to pull her into my arms and kiss her. Helping her golf swing is one thing—but we’re still technically in the ‘professional’ part of our time together.
‘Don’t what?’
‘I can think a place is stunning without wanting to buy it.’ Just like I can think a woman is the most fascinating, beautiful creature I’ve ever spent time with and be willing to walk away at the end of three days together.
The thought comes out of nowhere but I hold onto it, reaffirmed by the sense it makes.
‘I know—’ her grin doesn’t drop ‘—but you will.’
Her confidence is sexy. Hot. Addictive. ‘What makes you so sure?’
‘You’re buying up properties just like this.’ She shrugs. ‘You have the cash. And there’s nothing like it on the market. Hell, there’s nothing like it out there. You’d be crazy to let the opportunity go by.’
She’s talking about the golf course but something stutters a little in my chest. I nod, pointing towards her ball. ‘You got this, or do you need me to help?’
She shoots me a droll look. ‘I think I can manage.’
She does—after four missed swings.
It putts onto the green. She lifts a hand for a high-five. I return it, fighting myself the whole time, not to drag her into my arms right here.
‘Who screwed you over?’ she asks as we move back to my ball.
‘Huh?’ I’m jarred out of the moment, lifting my gaze to her face. ‘When?’
‘On the plane over, you said I’d been screwed by an ex, you’d been screwed by an ex, so we should just screw each other.’ She lifts her eyes to mine. ‘Who’s your ex?’
I forgot I said that. I don’t particularly want to think about Lorena right now. The green darkens as a cloud moves overhead, blocking the sun.
‘Come on. You’ve psychoanalysed Gareth. Let me do the same.’
‘I don’t need your help to psychoanalyse Lorena.’
I don’t even like saying her name aloud.
‘Did she cheat on you?’
My hand grips the golf club tighter. I swing for the ball—too hard. It sails past the hole.
‘No.’
‘You’re still angry with her.’
It’s not a question. Grace is seeing into my soul in that way she has—that way I don’t completely like. ‘No.’
‘Sure. You sound the complete opposite of angry.’
My laugh is humourless. ‘My divorce came through just over a week ago. I’m allowed to still have feelings about that.’
‘Feelings for her?’
The question is flat, her voice almost a monotone. That’s what tips me off—she’s trying too hard to smother everything out of her tone. I shoot my eyes to her, a frown on my face. Her expression is as blank as her voice.
‘Not good ones.’
She stares into my eyes for a long time and I don’t look away.
‘Why? What happened?’
She turns to the golf course, eyeing up the positions of our balls. We begin to walk back to the buggy.
She sighs. ‘Okay. Let’s start with easier questions. How long were you married?’
‘A year.’
She stops walking. ‘Just a year?’
Without knowing it, she’s echoed my biggest criticism of myself. ‘About eleven and a half months too long,’ I quip.
‘But you married her. So you must have loved her. What happened?’
‘Haven’t we already decided love is juvenile?’
She frowns. ‘Love at first sight, maybe. But love? I don’t think that’s in the same category.’
Her eyes show defiance and hope. I hate crushing her spirit in a way. ‘Give it time, Grace; you’ll earn your cynicism. A few more Gareths and you’ll get there.’
She shakes her head. ‘I doubt it. Even in the midst of that, I understood. He just didn’t love me. But he loves Alicia. Love is real, it’s out there, just not for us, not for him and me.’
‘You loved him, though.’
She considers that for a moment. ‘I guess there’s lots of different types of love,’ she says after a while. ‘I did love him. It was a slow-building love—the opposite to love at first sight. I trusted him and I liked him, way before I loved him. I honestly thought he was the safest person I could invest my time with.’
‘Sounds...clinical rather than romantic.’
‘That suits me,’ she says with a nod. ‘I’ve always been someone who’d rather think than feel. I thought I’d found my way to someone who was a safe bet. We were on the same page with business, life, philosophy, politics. We made complete sense.’ She shrugs, her shoulders slender. My eyes drop a little lower, to the swell of her breasts revealed by the white cotton T-shirt she’s wearing.
‘Growing up—’ I put our clubs back in the bag and wait for her to climb into the buggy before swinging in beside her ‘—I had proof, again and again, that believing in love and “happily ever after” is just about the stupidest thing you could do.’
‘Your parents?’
‘My parents, and the litany of step-parents I briefly knew. I could fill a library with the arguments I heard. My dad wasn’t an easy guy to live with. Bombastic, a heavy drinker, a womaniser—rapier sharp, quick-witted, untrusting and untrustworthy. He made an art form out of icing people out, pushing them away. And he had a team of fantastic lawyers who drew up ironclad prenuptial agreements so he never paid out more than a million to each wife.’
‘But he loved you?’
Strangely, given how accepting I am of the facts, I feel emotions I haven’t grappled with in a long time. Hurt and pain. I shake my head, pushing them away. ‘Not really. Adrian Hart didn’t truly love anyone.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she says softly. ‘That must have been hard to live with.’
‘You get used to what you know. I didn’t realise until I was a teenager that other people didn’t have a revolving door of parents and new siblings to contend with.’ Her face is in profile as she concentrates on driving us towards the green. ‘I swore my life would be different, that my marriage would be different.’
She shifts her gaze to me briefly, slowing the cart to a stop. ‘Do you regret divorcing her?’
‘I regret marrying her.’
Perhaps the degree of ice in my words cuts through her because she frowns and I understand why—I remind myself of my father in that moment and the thought turns my stomach.
I’m nothing like him.
‘What happened?’
The year of marriage to Lorena flashes through my mind and I shake my head with rueful frustration. ‘It was a shitshow from just about day one.’ I clench my jaw, not wanting to think about it, let alone to go back. ‘My brothers hated her—Holden especially. That should have been my heads-up. I just never saw what they did.’
‘And what was that?’
‘A money-grabbing, lying bitch.’
The vehemence of my proclamation makes her reel a little.
‘You probably think I’m being a bastard.’
She shakes her head. ‘You’re not like that. I’m just wondering what anyone could do to make you so angry.’ She lifts a hand to my chest and it’s not a professional touch; it’s something else. It’s comforting and kind. Sympathetic. My heart closes over. My marriage was my mistake. I don’t need anyone pitying me. I should have been more careful.
‘We had a prenup,’ I say guardedly. ‘At my father’s suggestion.’
‘Naturally.’
‘She got a million-dollar bonus per kid.’
‘Seriously?’ Grace’s disapproval shows.
‘It’s standard, apparently. I didn’t take any interest in the terms—I only found out months later that Lorena did. She was at my lawyer’s every day, her lawyers in tow, demanding all sorts of provisions and bonuses.’
Grace is quiet, but I see judgement in her eyes and it warms me inside.
‘I didn’t want kids. Not yet. Now I realise I probably just didn’t want them with her. Maybe alarm bells were going off the whole time and I was so determined not to be like my parents and their failed marriages that I refused to heed them.’ I shake my head, reaching for a golf club and handing it to Grace.
‘So you didn’t get pregnant?’
‘No. But when I told her I wasn’t ready she withheld sex. She’d use it to try to blackmail me into agreeing—she knew I’d never cheat.’ My smile is wry. ‘And that I didn’t really want a sexless marriage. She tried to get our prenup changed so she’d get her baby bonus sooner. I just had no idea she was after cash. I would have given her money—I would have paid her off as a test if I thought it’d work.’
I’m nauseated by the conversation, by the reality. ‘She threatened to leave me unless I either gave her a million bucks or got her knocked up.’
Grace’s indignation shows in her face. ‘Bitch.’
I laugh at how unnatural the word sounds coming from her lips. ‘Yeah.’
‘What did you do?’
‘Gave her our home and three million dollars, in exchange for a quick, painless divorce. I told her I never wanted to hear from her again.’
‘So that’s it?’
‘Not quite. She tried to take Brinkley.’
‘Your dog? She didn’t!’ Grace is outraged. ‘I can’t believe it! Why would someone do that?’
‘She wanted to hurt me, in the end. She was furious I wouldn’t just give her what she wanted.’
‘You gave her a fortune.’
I pull a face. ‘Not really. Not compared to my worth. I guess she thought I’d crumble, have kids with her, and she’d have access to everything I own for ever.’
Her eyes show outrage. I feel a connection between us forging out of steel.
‘It was a mess. We had shouting matches that would have shocked even my parents.’
‘I’m glad you realised what she was like before you started a family together.’
‘Yeah, me, too. I can’t think of much worse than bringing kids up with someone I hate and despise on every level.’
She takes the club from me, weighing it in her hands.
‘Maybe that explains why I’m not exactly a champion of love—be it love at first sight or a long-to-develop, slow, safe love.’ I move closer to her so I can smell her vanilla-and-honey fragrance. ‘But temporary white-hot sex with beautiful strangers?’ I lift my brows, my eyes sparking with hers. ‘There’s nothing bad that can come from this, right?’
CHAPTER TEN
‘WHAT’S UP, LADY?’
I smile at the sound of Penny’s voice. ‘Oh, you know, nothing. You?’
‘Work. Work. More work.’
‘Same.’
‘Yeah, but my work involves teaching recalcitrant ten-year-olds in inner-city schools how to not punch each other. Yours is at least in the lap of luxury in the Whitsundays.’
I run my fingertip over the balcony railing, checking out the time on my watch for what feels like the hundredth time. The sun is still high in the sky—night-time is a while away.
I’m tired—scuba diving, a long business lunch and then a round of golf and my body is exhausted. And yet... I’m also completely energised, ready for the night ahead, poised for Jagger.
Jagger.
‘It’s not as simple as that,’ I say, biting down on my lip.
‘Why? God, don’t tell me Gareth’s reared his bastard head?’
‘No.’ I shake my head. ‘It’s not Gareth. It’s...you know that hot American from the other night?’
‘Jaggerrrrrr.’ She purrs his name and my pulse threads through me.
‘He’s also my very, very cashed-up potential investor.’
‘Shut up! He is not!’
‘Yeah, he really is.’
‘So you slept with him and now you’re trying to get him to buy a multimillion-dollar property?’
‘Yes.’
‘I did not see that coming.’
‘You and me both.’ I tighten my fingers around the railing.
‘He’s up there with you now?’
‘Not right now,’ I mumble.
‘But he’s on the island. And you’re staying in the same hotel?’ Penny laughs. ‘Well, that’s just the gift that keeps on giving. I hope you’re taking full advantage of that fabulous body of his...’
My cheeks feel warm. ‘He’s my client.’
‘And you’re two consenting adults. What’s the problem?’
‘I... There’s no problem.’ Except there is. I can’t put my finger on it but something feels... I don’t know. Complicated.
‘You sound worried. Is he giving you a hard time?’
I shake my head, smiling a little because I wonder if Penny would leap straight onto a flight and come to my rescue if he was. ‘He’s great. He’s...’ Really great. He’s charming and funny and smart and I love spending time with him. Danger lurks on the peripheries of my mind. ‘I think it’s going well. I don’t know if he’s going to buy it, though.’
