[4 Seasons 01] Seducing Summer (8 page)

“Callie…”

“Oh, relax,” she scolded, collecting her
handbag. “You’re far too uptight. Someone needs to loosen your laces.” She
turned and got out of the car.

Gene grumbled beneath his breath. He
couldn’t imagine anything more delightful than his laces being loosened at that
moment. But it wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, and when it did, Callie
Summer certainly wouldn’t be the one to do it.

The meeting at Hollywell’s didn’t go as
well as Callie had hoped.

After she’d walked out of the store
manager’s office, she stopped at the ladies’, went to the loo, then stared at
herself in the mirror as she washed her hands.

“You only have yourself to blame.” Her
too-loud voice rang through the small bathroom. Thankfully, the other cubicles
were empty.

She lowered her gaze to the basin, seeing
her knuckles white where she’d clutched hold of the ceramic edge, and she
forced herself to relax her grip. It wasn’t the end of the world. She was long
past blaming herself for every little thing that went wrong in her life. It
wasn’t her fault that she’d been distracted by Gene’s brooding blue eyes and
his deep, sexy voice.

I was teasing.

Were you?

His words bloomed in her head like
beautiful roses. It wasn’t even a sentence, and yet just that fraction of a
phrase told her he found her attractive.

She was flattered, and couldn’t stop a glow
spreading through her, but that didn’t mean anything would happen. Clearly, he
was determined to remain aloof, and although she was sure it would be fun to
keep teasing him, she didn’t want to make a fool of herself.

She slid her hands beneath the dryer and
turned them in the hot air. She’d be an idiot if she let a glint of sexual
attraction ruin the tour she’d planned all year. The success of Four Seasons
depended almost singlehandedly on her. That wasn’t an egotistical way of
looking at things—it was fact. Rowan was an exceptional designer, but she had
zero business sense and, if she’d been left to her own devices, would still have
been designing dresses for her dolls. Bridget was great at running the shop,
but had no vision in terms of expanding the business. Neve had some brilliant
promotional ideas, but they tended to be just that—ideas rather than practical
applications.

It was Callie who had the business degree,
the personal skills, and the ambition to make the business more than the one
shop making a profit just large enough to keep them all above the breadline.
She wasn’t expecting to surpass Victoria’s Secret or Triumph or Berlei, but she
didn’t see why Four Seasons couldn’t become one of the best brands in New
Zealand and possibly Australia, and she knew Rowan’s designs were pretty enough
to expand even beyond that.

Besides, life would be dull if she saw the
limits of their shop as the outskirts of Wellington. She might open shops in a
dozen New Zealand towns and half of them might fail, but so what? Better to
have tried and failed than never to have tried at all.

The same could be said about her personal
life, she thought as she opened her handbag, took out her lipstick, and applied
a new coat. She didn’t wish she’d never met Jamie. She did wish she’d noticed
the signs that he was cheating on her before she’d walked in on him in bed,
because the image of the skinny brunette sitting astride him, her hair tumbling
down her back as his hips thrust up into her, had seared itself onto Callie’s
brain and refused to come off, even though she’d done the mental equivalent of
scrubbing the inside of her skull with a scouring pad. But although he’d hurt
her terribly, she couldn’t wish they’d never gotten together. She’d tried a
long-term relationship and she’d failed, but that was okay. It didn’t mean the
next one wouldn’t work.

When she was a child, her mother had shown
her how to color a page with wax crayons, in any patterns, using every color in
the box. Then she’d told Callie to go over the whole page with thick black
paint. Puzzled, Callie had done so, even more confused when her mother had
given her a cocktail stick and told her to draw something on the black page.
She’d carefully drawn a star, and had then stared in delight at the rainbow
colors that had appeared through the black paint.

Being with Gene was kind of like that, his
desire showing occasionally through his reservation, giving her the same
feeling she’d had the day she’d seen the rainbow star through the black. If she
scratched the surface, she knew she would find a passionate man beneath his
tight control. He wanted her—she could see it in his eyes, and part of her was
tempted to see if she could indeed loosen his laces and find out what he was
like when he relaxed.

But it was a stupid idea, because she’d get
distracted, and she wouldn’t forgive herself if she blew the whole tour because
she wanted to get her leg over. She’d only have the one chance to approach
these shops, and she had to concentrate when she had these appointments and
stop thinking about Gene Bond and his license to thrill.

Leaving the bathroom, she walked along the
corridor and paused in the doorway to the reception area. He sat in one of the
comfy chairs, reading a magazine. She’d told him to go and find a coffee shop,
but he’d insisted on waiting for her. She’d been lucky he’d not demanded to go
into the ladies’ room with her. The guy seemed determined that being a good PA
meant gluing himself to her side.

As she watched, he shifted in the chair,
his brow creasing for a moment, suggesting his hip was bothering him. He’d been
the same on the plane—although most of the time it didn’t seem to affect his
walking, sitting for any length of time apparently gave him trouble.

Her gaze lingered on him for a moment.
She’d informed him that he didn’t have to wear a suit, but he’d insisted, saying
he preferred to maintain a professional appearance as they were on business. He
looked rakishly handsome in his three-piece suit and smart blue tie, but then
most men looked good in a suit, especially a well-cut one like his. What would
he look like in jeans or shorts and a T-shirt? Would he just look normal, like
a guy-next-door, with his ruffled brown hair?

Somehow, she doubted it. Even though he’d
not even rolled up his shirt sleeves yet, she had the impression the hard edge
to his features continued to his physique, both remnants of his Army life. When
she’d enquired about the hotel he’d booked, the first thing he’d said was, “It
has a gym and a swimming pool.” So she knew he worked out, because she’d have
said, “It has a five-star restaurant, room service, and a spa bath.” He’d be
muscular and lean beneath his shirt, his body tanned and hard. And although
he’d said his ex had broken up with him because he hadn’t been able to
communicate with her the way she’d wanted—which didn’t surprise Callie at all—she
was certain that Angela whatever-her-name-was wouldn’t have criticized him in
the sack.

I was teasing.

Were you?

The words haunted her. His gray eyes had
sparked with desire when he’d said those words, like a stormy sky lit with
lightning. In spite of her promise to herself, Callie was suddenly desperate
for him to look at her like that again.

He glanced up and saw her standing there,
and his eyebrows rose. “That was quick.” He put down the magazine—a gossip mag,
she noted with interest—got to his feet, a little stiffly, and came over to
her. “How did it go?”

She smiled at the receptionist and led the
way down the stairs. “Not great,” she said when they were out of earshot.

“Oh? Any idea why?”

“Not really. I didn’t perform at my best.”

“What’s up? Are you tired?”

No. I was imagining you taking off your
waistcoat and shirt, then unbuttoning your trousers.

“A bit,” she said. “But it’s okay, I’ll
perk up after I’ve had my coffee.”

“Come on, then. Let’s fill you up with
latte and see if that makes a difference.”

Let’s fill you up…
She stifled a groan. She definitely had sex on the brain. There was
no way that should sound as erotic as it did.

There was a coffee shop opposite the store,
so they ordered lattes and cake and found a seat by the window so they could
watch the world go by.

“Anything I can do to help get your mind in
gear?” Gene asked after they’d made themselves comfortable.

Callie looked out of the window. Dunedin
was an attractive city, busy and thriving, its distinctive Edwardian
architecture pulling in many tourists. It was also a university town, so the
coffee shops were filled with students, and the city had a young, fresh air to
it.

She could smell Gene’s aftershave. It wound
around her, gentle and subtle as a silk ribbon, drawing her toward him. She
really hadn’t thought this through. Sitting on the plane squashed into a seat
next to him, travelling in the false intimacy of a car, eating in cafés—she
wasn’t sure she’d spent that much time being so close with Jamie.

But she was a professional, and jeez, it
was only a couple of weeks. She might not have had sex for a while, but it
wasn’t as if she were going to jump on the first guy who came along.

She looked back at Gene. Probably not. What
was the chance of the first guy being so sexy he made her mouth water every
time she looked at him?

His cool eyes observed her. He unnerved her
somewhat. He always seemed so in control. Callie knew she had a tendency to
flap, usually when she’d forgotten to organize something, but Gene didn’t
appear to panic at anything. She supposed that after you’d been shot and
wounded, forgetting to book a car or discovering you’d left the perfect pair of
shoes for an outfit at home didn’t seem worth worrying about.

Anything I can do?
he’d asked. She was tempted to say,
Help me out with an orgasm,
but
couldn’t quite pluck up the courage. What would his reply be if she did? Would
his eyebrows rise and a look of disapproval cross his features? Or would his
eyes take on that sultry look of desire, his lips curving up as his gaze slid
down her body to heat her right through?

“Um…” she said, “not really.” She leaned
back as the waitress brought their lattes and cake over. “Thanks.” She picked
up a spoon and stirred the foam, breaking up the picture of a fern that had
been drawn on the top. “I’ll be okay when I get going. I’m a bit rusty, that’s
all.” She rested her elbows on the table and sipped her latte, then realized he
was staring at her. “What?”

He blinked and raised his own coffee.
“Nothing.”

“No, go on. What did I say?”

“It doesn’t matter, really.”

“Gene. Tell me.”

He huffed what sounded like an irritated
sigh, although humor sparked in his eyes. “I can’t make my mind up whether your
words keep sounding suggestive on purpose or whether it’s pure accident.” He
blew on the coffee.

Callie thought back over what she’d said.
I’ll
be okay when I get going. I’m a bit rusty, that’s all.
“In that case, it
was pure accident. I think it says more about your state of mind than mine at
the moment.”
Liar
, she thought.

“Oh, okay.”

Their gazes met, and they both started laughing.

“Sorry.” He put down his cup and pulled his
piece of chocolate brownie toward him. “I’ve been single for a while. I think
it’s having an effect on my brain.”

“I know what you mean.” She reached out her
fork and removed the corner of his brownie. “I’m having trouble thinking about
anything but sex at the moment.”

He stared at his brownie. “Callie…”

“What?” She wondered if he was going to
react to her comment.

He blew out a long breath, and she had the
feeling he’d been going to remark on it but had changed his mind. “Do you
normally help yourself to other people’s food?”

She paused with the forkful of brownie
halfway to her mouth. “All the time. Sorry, is that a problem?”

He looked up at her, and his expression
softened. “No,” he said. “Not at all. Help yourself.”

For a brief moment, she imagined he was
referring to himself. She had to fight not to lean over and unbutton his
waistcoat.

Instead, she ate the forkful of brownie,
then her own carrot cake, making sure to offer him a piece. Not everything was about
sex, she told herself sternly. She had to try to control herself, or she was
going to get into serious trouble.

After lunch, Gene drove them to Fernz, and
this time Callie came out smiling, and announced the meeting had gone very
well.

“They loved Rowan’s designs,” she said as
they got into the car. “They were keen to stock a full range of lingerie, as
well as some swimwear.”

“That’s great.” Gene was genuinely pleased
for her. She’d come out of the first meeting very flat, and he’d hoped it
hadn’t boded ill for the rest of the tour. Luckily, that didn’t seem to have
been the case. This time, her eyes sparkled, and she even did a little dance in
her seat to a tune in her head.

“Where next?” she said.

“The hotel. We can check in and leave our
bags in our rooms, then head out to the last appointment.”

“Cool.” She looked out of the window,
watching the houses and shops speed by. “Where is it?”

“By the sea. It’s a bit out of town, in St.
Clair, on the Esplanade, but it’s close to Lingerie Plus.”

“Great.” She beamed at him. “I’m so glad
you came along. I’d be lost without you.”

“I’m sure you would. You’d probably be
halfway to Australia by now.”

“I mean it, Gene. Becky’s great, and we
always have fun when we go away, and I was really worried when I knew she
wouldn’t be able to go, but you’re a terrific substitute.”

“Thank you.” His gaze slid across to her. Her
cherry-colored skirt reached to just above her knees, and she wore a white
sleeveless top with cherry and pink flowers that gathered beneath her breasts
to flow down to her hips. She looked fresh and summery, like a sorbet, and she
made his mouth water like one. Her bare legs were tanned and smooth, and he
could imagine sliding his hand up her calf to her knee, then even higher, to
the soft silkiness of her inner thigh.

He turned his gaze back to the road. Best
stop there, unless he wanted to sport an erection when they arrived at the
other end.

“Was it hot in Afghanistan?” Callie asked.

He blinked at the randomness of the
question. “Where did that come from?”

“I was thinking about how hot it is here in
summer, and that you seem very cool considering you’re wearing a waistcoat, and
that made me wonder if you coped this well in uniform in the heat.”

He said nothing for a moment, returning in
his mind to the dusty land, the discomfort he’d had to fight as he sweated into
his thick uniform. The three days he’d spent in the blistering heat, in pain,
thinking he’d never be found. The bodies lying around him.

His heart raced, and he swallowed hard. “It
was hot a lot of the time. There’s nothing like a cool shower after days out in
the desert.”

“Mmm. Did you all shower together?”

That made him laugh, and he loosened his
tight grip on the wheel. “You have a one-track mind.”

“You started it. I was asking a perfectly
standard question about the climate and you had to bring naked soldiers into
it. Were there women in the Army?”

Her changes of direction threw him every
time. He glanced across at her. Her bright eyes told him that somehow she’d
seen through him again.

“Yes,” he said. “Some.”

“Was there a woman in your scouting party?”

“Yes.” How had Callie known?

“What happened to her?”

“She died,” he said.

They fell quiet. He concentrated on finding
the road to St. Clair, sliding on his sunglasses as the bright sun bounced off
cars and windows.

He waited for the consolatory phrases, the
I’m
sorry
and
Oh, Gene, how terrible.

“Do you disagree with having women in the Army?”
she said instead.

He shook his head. She should have been a
psychologist. “No, absolutely not.”

“You’re saying what you think a woman would
want to hear.”

“It’s what men do.”

“It’s what you’ve trained yourself to do
because of your ex. I’m not Angela. Tell me what you really think.”

He slowed at a roundabout and took the road
south toward the coast. “I think women should have all the opportunities men
have. If they want to fight, they should be able to. And I mean that.”

“But you’d rather they didn’t?”

Now he felt irritated. He didn’t want to
discuss this. It was like she kept poking him with a cattle prod until all his
carefully restrained emotions and feelings came tumbling out. Maybe if he
answered her, she’d stop asking questions. “When the scouting party was fired
on and I was shot, four of the party died instantly. I lay there for three days
with them dead beside me. If you’re asking whether I have more nightmares about
Lisa’s blank eyes staring up at me than I do the three guys who were shot with
her, yes, I do. She was tough and brave and fearless, and I respected her as a
soldier, but she was a woman, and I don’t care how many times I’m told we’re
all the same, I don’t feel that way.”

Callie studied him calmly, apparently
unconcerned about his outburst. “You think of us as the fairer sex?”

“If by that you mean am I glad that you’ll
never be on the front line with a rifle in your hand, yes. Am I relieved that
all you have to think about is making yourself and other women look gorgeous
without their clothes? The answer is a resounding yes. I know it’s sexist, but
you know what? I don’t care. I think it’s great that women have every
opportunity to excel, and I admire and support those who do, but I have an urge
inside me to protect you, and that’s never going away, no matter how many times
I’m told it’s sexist.”

He stopped, his heart pounding. He’d said
too much. She was going to roll her eyes and tell him to shove his opinions
where the sun didn’t shine.

But when he glanced at her, he saw her lips
curving up, and warmth in her eyes before she slid her sunglasses on.

“We must be nearly there,” she said,
tapping on the window. “There’s the sea.”

“Callie, I…”

“It’s okay.” She laid her hand on his
briefly on the steering wheel, her fingers cool against his skin.

So he let it lie, and instead studied the
view of the waves running up the beach, the Pacific Ocean sparkling in the
afternoon sun, and lowered his window to let the fresh sea air calm him.

It was so odd how Callie made him feel.
When he’d been with Angela, he’d often felt as if he were a dog she enjoyed
brushing the wrong way, against the growth of hair. He’d felt constantly on
edge as she picked apart and analyzed every little detail of their conversation.
She hadn’t understood him at all, hadn’t had a clue what made him tick, and
even though it hadn’t all been hell and they’d had some good times, ultimately
it had been a relief when they’d broken up.

Callie was so different that it was like
trying to compare apples and oranges. It was as if she already knew the answer
to her questions, but she asked them anyway because the way he answered gave
her even more insight into him. He thought he didn’t like to talk about
himself, and yet she was able to coax details out of him right to the point
where he couldn’t bear to talk anymore, which she appeared to understand. It
puzzled him, irritated him, and warmed him through all at once.

“Here it is.” He spotted the hotel sign and
signaled to take the turning into the car park. At that moment, his phone
started ringing in his jacket pocket on his back seat.

“Want me to get it for you?” Callie half turned
in her seat to retrieve it.

“No, it’s okay, it’ll go to voicemail.” It
was probably someone from his office, and he didn’t want Callie talking to
them.

He parked, and they retrieved their cases
and made their way to the front desk. He fought against the urge to carry
Callie’s case for her. Women didn’t like men offering to help them nowadays.
He’d already made an idiot of himself by saying he had an urge to protect them—he
didn’t need to compound it by doing the modern equivalent of laying his cloak
over a puddle and offering to duel for her.

The hotel was all white walls, glass, and
brightly painted pictures, fresh and cheerful. They checked in and took their
cases up to their rooms on the first floor. Gene heard Callie exclaim as she
walked into her room, and he left his suitcase propping open the door and
followed her in, smiling as he saw her hands cupping her face in wonder as she
looked out at the sea.

“How gorgeous,” she said.

“Mmm.” He let his gaze slip down her from
behind, following the dip of her waist, the swell of her bottom, the
shapeliness of her legs. Her ex must have been a Class A idiot, he mused.
Callie was sexy, funny, and intelligent, and the prat had cheated on her. On
second thoughts, he wished duels still existed, because he would have been
happy to call Jamie whatever-his-name-was out on one.

She looked over her shoulder and caught him
admiring her. “Enjoying the view?”

He gave her a wry look. “I’m going to my
room. Thirty minutes and then I’ll be knocking on your door, okay?”

“Can’t wait.” She flared her eyes at him.
He loved how expressive they were, and how much they reflected her mood.

“Stop it,” he scolded, returning to pick up
his suitcase. “You’re incorrigible.”

“It’s my middle name,” she called out just
before the door closed.

Smiling, he let himself into his own room
and went inside.

Like Callie’s, it had a beautiful view of
the ocean, and he spent a few moments just looking at it, letting his emotions
settle like a pile of feathers that fluttered slowly to the ground. Talking
about his time in the Army, especially about Lisa and the others who had died,
always stirred him up, so much so that he rarely spoke of them to anyone now.
He remembered the cool touch of Callie’s fingers on his, her gentle words,
It’s
okay
. How did she read him so well?

His phone rang again, making him jump in
the quietness of the room. He took it out of his jacket pocket and answered it,
still looking at the sea. “Hello?”

“Gene? It’s Kev.” Kev was in charge of Safe
& Secure when Gene was absent.

“Hey,” Gene replied. “How’s it going?”

“Depends on your point of view. You okay to
talk?”

He turned from the window and crossed to
sit on the bed. “Yeah, I’m alone. What’s up?”

“Ms. Hawke has had another death threat.”

Gene felt as if he’d swallowed an ice cube.
“Shit. What did it say?”

“The usual horrific stuff. But it also goes
into great detail about what she did that day—what time she left the house,
where she visited, how long she stayed.”

Gene leaned forward and sank his fingers
into his hair. It was the first time they’d been certain that Phoebe was
definitely being watched. “Did the letter mention Callie?”

“Only in passing, the same as before. ‘I
promise I’ll take away the lives of those you love,’ blah blah.”

Gene’s hand curled into a fist. Over the
past few hours, he’d almost forgotten about his real reason for being with
Callie. She made him feel as if nothing bad would ever happen, her bright smile
washing away all the darkness in the world. But when the sun went down, the
darkness was still there, and he had to remember why he was with her. It wasn’t
an idle threat. Her life was in danger, real danger, and he was the only one
standing between her and the madman who was hunting her down.

“Do you think he’s watching you both now?”
Kev asked.

Standing again, Gene forced himself to stay
calm and think it through as he paced the room. “I’m betting not. None of us
has spotted anyone shadowing Callie, and he’s not yet related her day-to-day
steps, so I think he’s concentrating on Phoebe. If all he wanted was to take
them both out, he would have done it by now. He wants to scare them, to make
them live in fear for a while. But ultimately I think he’ll come after them.
And we have to be ready when that happens.” He spoke to himself more than Kev.
He had to remain focused.

“Saffie spotted that guy again outside her
house,” Kev advised. “She’s taken more photos and distributed them around the
team, and we’ve sent them to the STG. Don’t worry, boss. They’ll catch him.”

“Yeah. Okay, thanks. Keep me informed on
any developments, okay?”

“Sure thing. See ya.”

Gene hung up and tossed his phone onto the
bed. Of course, he had to know all the details about what was happening back at
the office. But part of him wished that for once he could leave it all to
someone else and just concentrate on being with Callie.

He leaned his forehead on the cool glass
and closed his eyes.