[4 Seasons 01] Seducing Summer (13 page)

The elevator dinged, and the doors opened.
Callie moved back. Her eyes danced with laughter.

“I wasn’t going to do that,” she said,
walking out. “Your eyes led me on.”

He followed her, heart hammering, head
spinning. “I’m sorry.” He had to remain professional. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Oh, relax,” she scolded, taking out her
card as they reached her door. “No harm done. I’m not going to ravish you on
the carpet or anything.” She stopped and turned to him. “One thing last night
did remind me of is how much we have to live for today. Life’s short, Gene. It
can be hard and harsh and filled with all kinds of trials and tribulations. So
when something nice comes along, I’m not going to walk away. I’m going to
follow my instincts and grab pleasure where I can.”

Her eyes were bright, daring, rebellious,
refusing to apologize for her act. And a teensy, tiny bit nervous, as if maybe
she was worried he might quit on the spot and walk away.

“Fair enough,” he said. “See you for
breakfast at eight?”

He held her gaze. Her lips curved up
slowly, and she gave a little nod.

Gene turned, let himself into his own room,
and closed the door behind him. Then he finally blew out a long breath. Waiting
for three months before dating Callie was a trial he knew he was going to
struggle with. And if she was going to do things like that, he would need
willpower of iron to survive.

He crossed to the bed and flopped onto it,
face down, with a long, heartfelt groan.

The drive to the wine district of
Marlborough was long and, for Callie at least, rather blissful—five
uninterrupted hours in the car with Gene, broken only by a short stop in
Kaikoura for a visit to a small lingerie store, following which they took a
detour to drive out to the peninsula for lunch, eating it while watching the
seals sunbathing on the rocks.

Apart from that, they hardly saw a soul on
the winding road that shadowed the coast on their right, the land on their left
consisting of tilled fields, hills and valleys stocked with the iconic New
Zealand sheep, and, in the distance, white mountains, their icy tops lost in
the clouds. Any settlements they passed through were small and quiet, with
little more than the standard ‘dairy’ or general store selling not only dairy
products but also newspapers, tinned goods for campers who might be passing and
in need of stocking up on emergency supplies, cold drinks, and the traditional
Kiwi staple—meat pies, usually containing cheese. Sometimes, a camper van
meandered past, and occasionally they passed a parked car with a family having
a picnic, but most of the time it was just her and Gene and the long stretch of
road disappearing into the distance.

Conscious that she’d waffled on for most of
the previous evening, Callie was worried Gene might be bored, but he certainly
didn’t seem it. They talked about everything under the sun, music, movies, even
religion, something she didn’t usually enjoy because it tended to bring out the
worst in people, but Gene listened to her point of view, offered some of his
own, and didn’t try to browbeat her to think like himself, which she
appreciated.

The night before, she’d lain awake for
hours thinking about the way she’d reached up to kiss him, and cursing herself
for being so forward. Her mother would have been horrified, not because she was
old-fashioned and didn’t believe in the girl expressing her thoughts, but
because Gene had made it quite clear that he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—get involved
until Becky came back. He worked for her, and he was a gentleman, and she knew
she’d put him in a situation where it would have been very difficult for him to
say no. No doubt he would have been concerned that, if he’d refused to return
the kiss, she would have sacked him.

He hadn’t actively kissed her back—he’d
frozen, and he hadn’t wrapped his arms around her, or done anything in fact but
stand there and let her kiss him. He had closed his eyes, though, and he hadn’t
jerked his head away or exclaimed his disgust. Instead, a low, satisfied groan
had rumbled in his chest, almost a moan, and when she’d finally pulled back,
his eyes had been half-lidded with desire.

But that wasn’t the point. The earthquake
might have renewed her feelings that life was short and it was important to
grab the bull by the pointy things, but she had to let this proceed at its own
pace. When Gene was ready, he’d make a move on her, she was sure. Until then,
she had to restrain herself and behave in a ladylike fashion.

She sighed.
Boring
.

“We’re nearly there,” Gene said. “Are you
tired?”

Oops. She’d sighed too loudly. “No, nothing
like that. It is a long way, but it’s been a beautiful journey.”

“This is a fantastic part of the world. I
love Blenheim. I could live here.” He spoke with enthusiasm.

“What do you like about it?”

He took the turnoff for the town center.
“It’s a thriving town. It’s always been sunny whenever I’ve visited, and it
seems to have everything—coastal activities, bush walks, and of course the
vineyards.”

Callie could see some of them stretching
away to the hills surrounding the Wairau Plain, and she knew the vines would be
heavy with ripe fruit. “I’ve got an idea,” she announced. “After the
appointment today, why don’t we go for a wine tasting at a local vineyard?”

Gene glanced across at her. “I don’t drink,
you know that.”

“Rubbish. You were just telling me about
how you prefer Merlot to Shiraz.”

“I don’t drink at the moment. Not while I’m
working.”

“Please. I don’t come here very often, and
it seems a shame to travel all this way and not make the most of the local
produce.”

“You talk as if they sell cabbages. It’s
not as simple as tasting the local coleslaw.”

“I’m not saying we have to get out of our
heads. Have you seen how much wine they put in your glass when you do a
tasting? It’s, like, a fraction of an inch.”

“I’ll think about it,” he said, in a voice
that told her he was still going to say no, but he was fed up with her
badgering him about it.

She stuck out her bottom lip. “You’re
thirty-one—that’s only five years older than me.”

“Thirty-two on Sunday.”

“Well, that’s still only six years. You’re
hardly old enough to be my father, so I really wish you didn’t talk like him.”
There was enough genuine exasperation there to make her turn her head away and
glare out the window.

Gene said nothing, concentrating on
navigating the roads. He drove straight through the town, and didn’t turn off
until they were heading toward the fields of vines.

Callie soon forgot her grump as she looked
out and saw a range of long, low, whitewashed buildings with terracotta roofs.
She looked at Gene in delight. “We’re staying at a vineyard?”

His lips curved up, and he steered the car
into a space. “Don’t get any ideas.”

“Oh, how lovely.” She leapt out of the car
and ran up to the gate. Cobbled paths surrounded the central wooden reception
building. To its left were the buildings she assumed incorporated the wine
cellar. To the right, a large courtyard backed onto the restaurant. All its
doors stood open, and she could see through it to the vineyards beyond. Vines
were everywhere, curled around posts and across the latticework over the
courtyard. Everything was rich, green, and fertile. She felt as if she were
visiting the home of Mother Earth herself.

“I’m glad you like it.” Gene held out his
hand to her. “Come on, let’s check in.”

She took it, surprised, thinking that his
offering it must have been a reflexive gesture, because he hadn’t done it
before. He held it until they reached the reception desk, then gave her fingers
a squeeze before releasing it. Her skin tingled from his warmth and the delight
of touching him. She wanted more! But she reminded herself of her promise in
the car.
Practice restraint, Callie.

They checked in and were shown to their
rooms, which both faced the vineyards. Callie unpacked a few things and hung up
her dress for the evening and her clothes for the next day, then opened the
sliding doors to the small patio and stepped outside. It was heading toward
four o’clock, and the sun had begun its descent to the west. The vineyards were
bright in the sun, bunches of grapes hanging below the leaves, ripe and sweet.

“Beautiful,” she whispered, tipping her
face up to the sun and closing her eyes.

“I’ll second that.”

She opened her eyes in surprise and turned
to see Gene leaning against the post between their rooms, watching her.

“Oh.” She shielded her eyes. “I was talking
about the view.”

He just smiled. “Are you ready to get
going? You’re supposed to be at the store at four.”

Something about his steady gaze unnerved
her and sent her heart hammering. “Yes, of course. I’ll meet you out by the
car.”

He nodded, but made no sign of moving. What
was he thinking? Was he remembering the way she’d kissed him in the elevator?
Because Callie was. His lips had been firm, warm, and dry. They’d parted a
little when he’d gasped in surprise, but she hadn’t taken advantage of that.
Instead, she’d pressed her lips to his a few times, enjoying the sensation of
his bristles against the pads of her fingers, and the deep, spicy tones of his
aftershave, sensations masculine enough to send tingles through her lady bits
that made her want to pin him to the wall and strip him naked.

He raised an eyebrow. Callie turned on her
heel and went back into her room.

*

She was nearly an hour at the store. The
manager loved the Four Seasons brand and wanted to go through every piece of
lingerie and swimwear. The two of them lost themselves in talking about designs
and the clothing business, and both of them were surprised when they heard the
store announcement that it would be closing in five minutes.

Callie shook the manager’s hand and left
the store, crossing the high street to where she’d agreed to meet Gene in the bookshop
opposite. He came out as she neared, looking—to her surprise—a little
flustered.

“What’s up?” she asked, puzzled at his
demeanor. He stood before her with his hands behind his back, shuffling from
foot to foot, not meeting her gaze.

“How did it go?” he asked.

“Great. Sorry I was such a long time, but
we got talking. Is everything all right?”

“Yes, yes.” He brought one hand up to
scratch his nose. “You were gone a while, so I had a look in the shops. I found
something, and I thought of you, so I bought it, and then I realized it was
inappropriate.” He looked pained.

“What is it?” she asked, intrigued. “A
vibrator?”

His expression turned wry. “No, not quite.”
He hesitated, then brought his other hand from behind his back. He was holding
a red rose, a perfect bud, with a piece of silvery ribbon around the stem.
“Sorry,” he said.

Callie reached out and took it,
automatically bringing it to her nose to sniff its scent. “Don’t apologize.”

“It’s not appropriate at all, and I do
apologize for that. I didn’t mean to suggest—”

“Gene,” she said softly, “it’s okay. It’s
beautiful, and I like beautiful things. Thank you.”

He paused, then nodded. “Let’s go back to
the car.”

Callie said nothing more, but inside, she
had filled with warmth. He was right—it wasn’t an appropriate gesture from an
employee to his employer. But it said everything that words couldn’t right now.
He liked her. He wanted to get to know her better. And just knowing that would
be enough to keep her going.

One of the reasons Gene had bought the rose
was because while he’d waited for Callie in the coffee shop, he’d chatted to
Kev, who’d told him there had been no more suspicious activity around Phoebe,
no more death threats, and things appeared to have quietened down. Kev had also
spoken to their contact at the STG, who’d informed him that they had a lead on
Darren Kirk and were hoping to have him in custody within a day or two.

Gene had felt a rush of relief at the
knowledge that it wouldn’t be long before Callie’s life was free from danger.
It also meant that he wouldn’t have to act as her personal protection officer
anymore. And that meant they would be free to date.

He’d seen the rose with its light red
velvety petals—the same color Callie’s cheeks turned when she blushed—and he’d
bought it on impulse, disappointed that up until now he’d not been able to
express his true feelings for her. Straight afterward, as he’d walked out of
the shop, he’d felt stupid and wished he hadn’t bought it. Kirk wasn’t yet in custody,
and a hundred things could go wrong between now and that coming to pass. He had
to remember that Callie wouldn’t be safe until Kirk was caught and his men
stood down, and until then, Gene had to keep himself emotionally removed from
her and remain on guard at all times.

He’d taken the rose to a rubbish bin and
held it there for a long while before cursing himself and walking away.

Now, he had mixed feelings about his
decision to give it to Callie. She hadn’t made a fuss, and didn’t appear to
have taken it as a declaration of love, which of course it wasn’t, because he’d
only known her a week and they’d only kissed once. She hadn’t even mentioned it
again. But as he drove back to the vineyard, he glanced across at her and saw
her looking out the window, lost in a daydream, trailing the rose across her
cheek to inhale its scent absently, a smile curving her lips. It warmed him
through and made him anxious at the same time, but he tried to put his anxiety
to one side. It was just a flower, a nice gesture, and she was so lovely, she
deserved it.

That evening was one of the nicest he’d
spent in a long time. Relaxed after his conversation with Kev, Gene gave in and
agreed to a wine tasting, and the two of them listened to the talk given by the
vineyard owner as they sipped at samples of Pinot gris, Sauvignon, Chardonnay, Shiraz,
and Merlot, arguing good-naturedly about which was the best.

Then they returned to the restaurant and
spent a long while over a couple of platters of cheese, meat, and seafood, and he
allowed himself one glass of Sauvignon as they watched the sun sink gradually toward
the horizon. The air was warm and a little sultry, and Callie’s skin glowed, a
combination of the wine and the heat bringing a flush to her cheeks.

She still hadn’t mentioned the rose, and
she wasn’t overly familiar toward him or anything, but her manner was relaxed.
Whenever she met his gaze, the look in her eyes sent a tingle running through
him from the roots of his hair to the tips of his toes.

Tonight, she wore a long summer dress in a
bright blue the color of her eyes, covered with shining darker blue and green
swirls like a peacock’s feather. It was hardly revealing, but it clung to her
curves as she leaned forward to lift her drink, drawing his gaze repeatedly to her
breasts, the dip of her waist, and the swell of her bottom when she sashayed
away to the ladies’ room.

The fever that had begun days ago grew to a
raging heat for her that refused to be quenched. It couldn’t be alcohol, he
thought, because he’d only had the tasters and one other glass. But he felt
dizzy with lust, desperate to pull her into his arms, to feel his lips on hers.
What was wrong with him? He was a grown man, more than able to control his
desires. Why did he feel like a teenage boy with his first crush?

He tried to make the evening last as long
as he could, but all good things come to an end, and eventually, as stars began
to pop out against the fading darkness, they finished their drinks and walked
slowly back to their rooms, lit by the solar lights strung along the path.

“What a gorgeous evening.” Callie looked up
at the stars. Somewhere in the distance, a morepork hooted from a tree,
mournful in the night.
More pork. More pork
.

“It is. Made more beautiful by the
delicious company.” He couldn’t stop the compliment falling from his lips.

She paused outside her room and turned an
impish gaze up to him. “Delicious? Interesting choice of adjectives. You sound
as if you could eat me up.”

He couldn’t ignore the suggestiveness
behind that comment. He gave a short laugh, and her lips curved up, her eyes
glittering in the semi-darkness. “I could,” he said, his heart thudding. He
moved closer to her, hands behind his back so he wasn’t tempted to touch her.
“And I bet you taste sweet, like strawberries.”

“Shame you won’t get to find out,” she
said.

His heart pounded, and his breaths came
quickly. The notion of stripping Callie naked, kissing down her body, and
sinking his tongue into her folds had him hard as a rock in seconds.

But he shouldn’t. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.
He was here to protect her, and he couldn’t do that if he was sleeping with
her.

Callie didn’t move toward him, but neither
did she move to open her door. She was going to leave it up to him.

He had to stay strong. For heaven’s sake,
he’d coped for months as a single man, in the desert, miles from the nearest
desirable and available woman, without a second thought. He could gather the
strength to resist one girl for one evening. Even if she did smell divine. Even
if her lips did look soft and red as the petals of the rose he’d bought her.
Even if she was looking at him with yearning in her eyes. He might not have
been old enough to be her father, but he was older than her, and he was a man—he
should be the one to exhibit restraint and be wise enough for the both of them.

Callie moistened her lips with the tip of
her tongue, and something popped inside Gene’s head.

Fuck it.

Bringing up a hand to cup her cheek, he
moved forward until they were only an inch apart. Callie didn’t move, but her
breasts rose and fell quickly, and her eyes widened, the pupils huge in the
semi-darkness.

“Tell me to stop,” he said huskily, pausing
when his lips were a fraction of an inch from hers.

She didn’t move to kiss him this time, but
waited, her breath whispering across his lips, and gave an almost undetectable
shake of her head.

“Please,” he demanded. He wasn’t strong
enough. He was weak—possibly the weakest man of all time, a slave to his
senses, a self-indulgent fool who would undoubtedly regret this in the morning,
but who, right now, could no more walk away from this woman than he could turn
his back on someone who was drowning.

Callie still didn’t move. When she spoke,
her voice was soft as the summer breeze that was stroking the back of his neck.
“Why would I do that, when it’s what I want more than anything in the world?”

Gene groaned, slid his hand into her hair,
and lowered his lips to hers.

Their previous kiss had been feather-light,
tender and gentle. But this time, he was too hungry to rein in his passion.

He claimed her mouth, hot and hard,
conscious he could almost be bruising her with his ardor, but she didn’t
complain or move back. Quite the opposite—she lifted her arms around his neck
and pressed herself against him, tipping her head to the right to change the
angle of the kiss. He brushed his tongue across her bottom lip, and she moaned
and opened her mouth to him, welcoming the slide of his tongue inside with
little thrusts of her own.

Gene’s thoughts and emotions spiraled
together, becoming a jumble of sensations. He couldn’t think about anything but
the sensual slip of her tongue against his, the feel of her silky hair sliding
through his fingers, the softness of her flesh beneath his hand when he laid it
on her waist. As he’d guessed, she tasted of strawberries, the prominent flavor
of the rosé she’d been drinking, touched with the earthy richness of the
chocolate pudding they’d eaten at the end of their meal.

He moved his hand to the small of her back,
pulling her against him, feeling the press of her breasts against his chest.
Slowly
,
his mind scolded him—this was just a kiss, and he didn’t want to insult her by
assuming it would lead to anything more. Which of course it shouldn’t.

Pull away now,
his brain yelled.
Say thank you and wish her goodnight, and
retire gracefully before you make a fool of yourself.

But it was hard to stop when she’d tugged
his shirt from his trousers and had slipped her fingers beneath it. Her hand
was warm on his back, her nails grazing as she explored his muscles, and when
she scored them lightly around his ribs and stroked over his nipples, Gene
nearly exclaimed out loud.

Callie moved then, stepping back, and with
surprise he realized she’d opened her door and was backing into her room. He
paused, about to say something, but she took his hand and pulled him with her,
leading him inside.

He went, because he was too confused and
excited and hot to refuse, but as she let the door close behind her and
continued to back up to the dresser against the wall, warning bells rang in his
head, and he opened his mouth to say something.

Callie pulled him hard toward her, though,
hard enough to make him stumble, and he fell against her, jolting the dresser
and making the leaflet on the vineyard that stood there fall over.

“Sorry,” he began, “I should—”

But she turned, and with one arm swept the
leaflets, cards, pens, and other knickknacks onto the floor. Backing up, she
rested her bottom on the edge and lifted herself onto the top. Then she pulled
up her dress to her knees, parted her legs, and yanked him toward her.

“Callie,” he said, resting his hands on her
knees, but any warning he might have given vanished at the feel of her soft
skin beneath his fingers and the temptation of her silky thighs lying just
within reach.

“Kiss me,” she whispered, reaching up a
hand to slide into his hair, and she clenched her fingers in the short strands.
Her nails scraped across his scalp, and Gene was lost.

“Fuck,” he said, and crushed his mouth to
hers.

Callie gave a long, low moan deep in her
throat that reverberated right through him. He delved his tongue into her
mouth, hungry now, wanting to consume her, possess her, more than anything he’d
ever wanted in his life, he was sure.

Slowly, he slid the skirt of her dress up
her thighs, his fingers finding soft, warm, silky skin. It was warm in the room
as she hadn’t turned on the air conditioning, and her skin felt a little moist
to the touch, the same way he knew sweat would be dampening his hair at his
temples and the nape of his neck. He wanted to run his tongue up her body, to
taste the salt, but she was widening her thighs to give him better access, and
of their own accord his fingers hooked in the elastic of her panties and
slipped around between her legs.

He lifted his head and watched her as he moved
his thumb down over the soft skin, where it slid easily through her slippery
folds to the already-swollen bud of her clit. Her mouth opened and she inhaled,
but she didn’t push him away. He moved his thumb down to collect some of her
moisture, then returned it to circle over her clit, pressing lightly on the
small swelling.

“Oh…” Her teeth tugged at her bottom lip.
“Gene…”

“Is that nice?” Fuck, it was heavenly,
feeling her, knowing she was aroused, seeing her eyelids drop to half-mast with
pleasure at his touch.

“Yes…” she hissed.

Keeping his gaze locked on hers, he lifted
his thumb to his mouth and sucked it. There might have been a very small chance
of him stopping a few minutes ago. It had rapidly shrunk to miniscule when he’d
touched her. And now he’d tasted her, there was no question it was zero.

“I want you,” she said. All signs of humor
and teasing had vanished from her eyes, which glittered with a dark passion
that made his erection strain at the seam of his trousers.

“Good,” he replied, and kissed her again.