A Secret Between Friends: A New Zealand Sexy Beach Romance (Treats to Tempt You Book 6) (4 page)

At that moment, however, even though he was grinning as he spoke, Genie sensed an air of melancholy around him. He’d always reminded her of four o’clock on a summer’s day—hot and sultry, innately sexy, made for long, lazy loving and languid kisses. Today, though, he seemed surrounded by twilight, and with the faint touch of autumn in the air.

She shook her head, trying to throw off her sad thoughts. She missed Ciara, but tonight was for celebrating. As she was on meds, she had to be careful how much she drank, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have one or two cocktails, and it was lovely to be home with her family and friends at last.

Niall tried to put Genie out of his mind for the rest of the evening and concentrate on his sister, but it was like looking up at the night sky and trying not to notice the brightest star. His gaze was repeatedly drawn to her. In the beginning, she was fairly quiet and her eyes glistened occasionally, suggesting her emotions flowed near the surface, like driftwood the ocean threatened to reveal every time the tide went out. But as time went by, she gradually relaxed, meeting up with friends and becoming more her old self. She lost her hat at some point, and with surprise he saw her hair was loose beneath it—he couldn’t remember the last time it hadn’t been pinned up in a bun. It fell around her shoulders in waves, softening the somewhat stern visage she usually presented as part of her role as lieutenant.

At one point, she danced with Danny, another of his good mates, who’d talked her into giving up her cane. He supported her with a firm arm around her waist. Niall observed them from his seat in the corner of the bar, listening to her attractive husky laugh echo around the room. He was sure the eyes of every guy in the room were on her.

He turned around and finished off his beer.

At nine o’clock, Beck came over to collect his empty glass and gestured with his head to where she sat with some friends. Jonah was talking and she was listening, but her eyelids drooped.

“I think she’s ready to go home.” Beck raised his voice above the music.

“Want me to call her a taxi?”

“Actually…” Beck scratched his cheek. “I wondered if you’d go home with her, make sure she’s okay? I don’t think she should be alone, not tonight, and I won’t be able to leave here until late.”

Irritation rippled through Niall. “What about Jonah? Can’t he take her?”

“As you’re only around the corner, I thought it might be easier for you to do it. Plus… I thought you might be looking for an excuse to get away.”

Although Niall had organized the evening, and everybody appeared to be enjoying the celebration, he felt distinctly out of it. It could have been because Tamsin wasn’t there. He hadn’t been single for ten years, and it was strange being at a social event on his own.

But he didn’t think that was it. He felt as if he were standing out in the cold night looking through a window at a party. When had he become so isolated from his friends and family? Was it to do with Ciara, or was it something deeper than that?

Whatever the reason, Beck was right—he had been thinking about leaving.

He gave in. “Okay. I was up at four this morning to catch the tide—I’m ready for bed.”

“You’re getting old.” Beck smirked. He was usually the last to leave the bar, and he was rarely home before one in the morning. Equally, he didn’t get up until eight or nine o’clock.

“I am.” That had been one of Tamsin’s parting insults.
You think you’re fucking Peter Pan, Niall, but you’re not, you’re getting old the same as the rest of us. One day, you’ll wake up and realize that.

He pushed the memory to the back of his mind. “Thanks for holding the party here—I appreciate it.”

 “No worries. I was glad to be able to do something.” Beck paused and rubbed a hand across his bearded chin. “I am sorry about Ciara, man. And I do understand Sinead’s reaction. It’s just awkward, you know, being Genie’s brother…”

Niall waved a hand. Whatever his own views, he didn’t want what had happened to come between him and his friends. “Don’t worry about it. And when are you shaving that off, by the way?”

“Meh. I like it.”

Niall grinned. “Catch you later.”

“Yeah.”

He walked across the bar to where Genie sat, her empty glass before her. How many had she had? Only two or three—he’d seen her have a couple of glasses of Sprite in between the cocktails. Hopefully it was only tiredness sending her eyelids to half-mast, and she wasn’t going to throw up in the taxi.

“Hey, sleeping beauty.” He nudged her shoulder. “Come on. Bedtime.”

Her eyes widened and she focused on him. Twin spots of red appeared on her cheekbones. “What?”

“I’m taking you home. Your snoring’s drowning out the music.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “I’ve been awake for twenty-nine hours straight.”

“I thought as much. Come on, grab your bag and say goodbye. Beck’s calling you a taxi.”

She pushed herself to her feet, steadying her balance on the cane. He twitched as she swayed, tempted to help, but she’d given Finn short shrift earlier when he’d offered her an arm to hold. In true Genie style, she refused to accept help and pretended everything was all right.

As she bent to kiss the cheeks of friends and wave goodbye to the others, he pondered on the way she’d blushed at the words.
Come on. Bedtime.

Her pink cheeks confirmed the suspicion he’d had for a long time that she had more than a filial affection for him. He’d suspected as much as the years had gone by, especially since she’d turned sixteen. She’d done her best to hide it behind a veneer of playful sibling-style rivalry, but the truth was that they weren’t related, and it would probably have been unusual if they hadn’t developed some kind of attraction to each other.

Or would it? He’d never sensed anything between her and Finn. Sometimes he thought Ciara had harbored a sneaky fondness for Jonah, but as far as he knew Jonah hadn’t been aware of it, and they hadn’t acted on it either—again, as far as he knew. Ciara and Beck had only ever seemed like siblings.

Genie crossed the room to say goodnight to her brothers, and Niall shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans, hunching his shoulders. From the moment she’d come to stay with his family, she’d been trouble, and that didn’t look like changing any time soon.

She kissed Beck goodbye and hugged Jonah. He’d gone to his car to retrieve her bag, and she shouldered it and walked over to Niall, leaning heavily on the cane, her limp more pronounced than when she’d first arrived. Her leg hurt. It wasn’t surprising—she’d had a long flight in a relatively cramped space.

As they headed for the exit, he held out his arm. She glanced at him, but he didn’t say anything. She linked her arm with his.

They left the bar and entered the beer garden. The sun had recently set, and the color was fading from the night sky, although the three-quarter moon lent enough light for those walking along the beach to see by. Beck had strung fairy lights between the posts that supported the canopy, and with the many tea lights that flickered amongst piles of shells on the tables, the whole place glowed in the darkness.

Threading their way through the tables, they said goodbye to those they knew and headed out onto the roadside to await the taxi. Across the road, the pohutukawa trees that lined the edge of the beach were darker shapes against the darkening sky. The Pacific Ocean rumbled up the sand and then drew back again with a rattle of shells. The air smelled summer fresh, of the smoky spare ribs Beck was serving in the bar, of sea salt, and of the jasmine growing by the hammocks on the grass, heady and aromatic as a woman’s perfume.

Niall closed his eyes, feeling Ciara’s absence more at that moment—at the height of summer and with Genie by his side—than he had up until then. The two girls had hardly ever been apart. It was like having fish and chips without the fish. It felt wrong.

“You okay?” Genie laid a warm hand on his arm.

He opened his eyes and looked down at her. She’d left her hat in the bar, and the rising moon had turned her golden hair silver. “I miss her,” he said simply.

She nodded and looked away, across the sea to the moon. “Me too.”

He watched the muscles in her throat move as she swallowed. Her blue eyes, normally the color of the New Zealand sky on a summer day, had darkened, the large pupils turning them almost black.

She turned to him, then—a sudden movement, making him jump. “Niall, I have to know. Do you blame me? For Ciara’s death, I mean. I know Sinead does. Do you feel the same?”

“Gin…” He hesitated, not knowing what to say.

“Only I was worried you’d be angry with me,” she whispered, “and when I walked in you didn’t seem angry, but you do seem…different. Distant. I keep thinking of that conversation we had when I said we were going into the Army, and how things haven’t been right between us since. Do you blame me?”

He studied his shoes. “I’m trying not to.”

She dropped her arm from his and shoved her hands in the pockets of her jeans. “So you do, a bit.”

“I…” He paused as the taxi drew up beside them. “Look, now’s not the best time for this conversation. We’re both tired and emotional, and we’ve had a few to drink. Let’s talk about it later.” He placed her bag in the boot, opened the door, and gestured for her to get in.

Biting her lip, she did so. He waited until she was in and had maneuvered the cane in too, then closed the door and walked around the other side. Hopefully, she’d let it go. He wanted to be able to enjoy her being back tonight without having an in-depth conversation.

He got in and told the driver the address of Beck’s house in Opua, and the car began wending its way along the coast to the nearby seaside town.

Beside him, Genie didn’t speak and instead looked out of the window. She massaged her thigh again, her leg clearly troubling her. What had she said?
It’s not healing as well as it should... I think it’s psychological.
It implied she considered herself culpable—or was she just saying the memory of being wounded was playing on her mind?

He took the opportunity to study her profile. The moonlight outlined her features in silver—her straight nose, high cheekbones, and full lips with the pronounced Cupid’s bow that made her look as if she was constantly pursing her lips for a kiss.

At that moment, she turned her head to look at him, her eyes shining. They studied each other in the semi-darkness. He could smell her perfume, a subtle scent not unlike the jasmine growing outside
Between the Sheets.

Over the past few years, since she’d been away a lot in the Army, he’d been able to push to the back of his mind the odd times he’d caught her watching him when she thought he wasn’t looking. She’d never openly flirted with him, and as soon as he’d looked at her, she’d switched to annoying little sister mode and said something provocative to make him snap back with irritation. But it had still been there, and it was there now, that look in her eye that sent a tingle running from the nape of his neck down his spine.

There were too many reasons he couldn’t act on it. But it warmed him through, nevertheless.

“Nearly there,” he said as the taxi started to climb the hill to the house.

She nodded. “It’s good to be home again.”

“It’s good to have you home.” And he meant it. He wasn’t going to think about the past. The only way was forward, and he had to concentrate on that and put everything else out of his mind.

The Sharpe family home sat high on a hill with a glorious view of the Bay of Islands during the day. Now, as the taxi pulled up outside and Genie pushed herself up out of the car, the view looked like an arty photograph, all black and silver. Cicadas called from the bush surrounding the long, low house, and somewhere a morepork hooted mournfully in the night.

Genie let Niall heft her bag onto his back and lead the way up the path, then unlock the door. Nearly everyone who knew Beck had a key to his house. If he was ever burgled, there would be no chance of tracking down the culprit.

The house was amazing, both the structure itself and its breathtaking view. Genie’s father, Ray, had fallen in love with the site, and she could see why. He’d bought the plot of land before the Bay of Islands had appeared on the “Top ten places you must visit before you die” lists and built the house himself from scratch. Now, Genie knew it would fetch close to a million dollars. The bedrooms and bathrooms were to the right as she approached the house, quiet and secluded, although the north facing glass walls received the sun all day and faced the magnificent view. The open plan kitchen, living, and dining areas were practically all glass in a wooden frame, surrounded by a large deck with an outside dining area that also overlooked the bay. The whole house was encircled by grass lawns studded with palms and lemon trees.

Standing back, Niall let her precede him inside, and she walked into the entrance hall and through to the living room. It hadn’t changed since her last visit, still decorated with Beck’s customary minimalist style, lots of rimu wood, white drapes, and more of Kole’s black and white photographs on the walls—these ones landscapes of the Northland showing flat-topped volcanoes and the beauty of the sweeping countryside.

Technically, their father had left the house to all three siblings, and Beck had offered to sell it and divide the profits up between himself, her, and Jonah, but she and Jonah had refused. They both liked having the house to go back to, and Genie usually stayed there when she was home on leave. Jonah rented a house in Kerikeri near the fire station where he worked, but he occasionally stayed over, and it wasn’t unusual for Niall and Danny to crash there after a guys’ night out.

She walked over to the windows and looked out across the bay, at the dark water that shimmered like a sheet of ice under the moonlight.

“Right,” Niall said, making her turn. He’d put her bag on the floor near the sofa. “I’d better be off.”

“Will you stay and have a drink with me?” Genie didn’t want to be alone.

He hesitated, and she bit her lip.
Do you blame me?
she’d asked, and he’d replied,
I’m trying not to
. It made her immeasurably sad. She wanted things to be normal—she wanted to see that wicked glint in his eye that meant he was about to tease her. Everything felt stilted and awkward, as if they were rehearsing roles in a play for which they didn’t quite know the lines.

Her throat tightened, and he must have seen her emotion because his frown lifted and he said, “Okay. If you can find Beck’s forty-year-old Islay malt, I’ll stay awhile.”

Joy flooded her, but she limped past him into the kitchen before he could comment on how soppy she was being. She began opening the cupboards. “Trust you to be able to sniff out a single malt.”

“Nose like an alcoholic bloodhound.” He switched on a standard lamp in the corner of the room, giving the place a warm glow. Then he followed her to the kitchen, retrieved two tumblers, and opened the freezer to grab an ice tray.

She discovered the bottle in a corner cupboard and brought it over to him. After popping a few cubes in each glass, he pulled the cork out and poured a generous slosh of whisky over the ice.

“Are you going to wuss out and want water?” he asked.

“Nah, I’m in the mood for something hard.” As soon as the words were out, she realized what she’d said, and she met his amused gaze with a roll of her eyes. “Don’t say a word.”

“I wouldn’t know where to start.” He led the way to the sofa and sat at one end, and she sat at the other. He waited until she’d put down the cane, then held up his glass. “Cheers.”

“To Ciara,” she said.

He nodded, then added, “And to you coming home, nearly in one piece.”

Her lips curved up in a rueful smile. “Yeah, I’ll drink to that.” They clinked glasses. She took a mouthful of the whisky and let it sear down to her stomach. “Ooh. Peaty.”

“Good stuff. It’ll put hairs on your chest.”

“My chest is perfectly fine without hairs, thank you.”

“I’m sure it is.” He leaned back, an arm along the back of the sofa, an ankle resting on the opposite knee. His other hand held his glass and swirled the amber liquid over the ice. Damn, the guy was sexy, all bulging muscles, tight jeans, and spiky hair. The twinkle in his eye and the curve of his lips only added to his attraction.

He’d only ever kissed her once, a long, long time ago. She’d been fourteen, and it had been Waitangi Day. The Brennans had held a party for family and friends, and she and Ciara had been allowed to stay up late, and even to have a small glass of wine. In spite of the festivities, Genie had been feeling depressed. Ciara had recently started dating her first boyfriend, and Genie had yet to date. Not that she hadn’t been asked out. Two guys from school had made their interest clear, but she’d backed off. Ciara had been puzzled—both guys had been good looking, sporty types, and she’d wanted Genie to say yes so they could go out as two couples. So grown up! Genie had made the excuse that she wasn’t ready, but the truth was that none of the boys of her own age could match up to eighteen-year-old Niall, who owned a motorbike, played rugby for the Northland team, and whose lazy, sexy charm told her he knew his way around a girl’s body.

She’d gone into the house to get a drink but had ended up staring out at the garden, despondent, knowing she had to get over her childish crush and find a boyfriend of her own age. And then he’d walked in. They’d stared at each other for a long while, and she’d known he was looking at her breasts in the bikini top, her young figure already curvier than Ciara’s, much to Ciara’s disappointment.

He’d come over to her, and before she could say anything, he’d cupped her face and bent to kiss her. His lips had been firm and warm, and he’d slid his hand behind her neck to hold her with just the right amount of force. Her heart had shot up her body as if she were a strongman game at a fairground and he’d hit her toes with a mallet. Bells had rung in her head, and she’d inhaled sharply, prompting his lips to curve with a sexy smile.

And then, for some reason she’d never worked out, he’d let her go and left the room. When she’d seen him later, he’d pointedly avoided her, and she’d been too proud to demand why he’d walked out, even though the question had burned inside her for months. He’d never mentioned the kiss again, and two weeks later he’d started dating Tamsin. She’d put it down to him having had a few beers and wanting to tease her—certainly, he hadn’t meant anything by it.

But it had lingered in her memory ever since, and she’d never gotten over him, not completely. There had been other guys—Paul, her first, then Rory, whom she’d caught with another girl, then Ethan, in the Army, whom she’d dated for a year until he’d been deployed to Antarctica. They’d decided it was best to break up rather than try to keep a long distance relationship going. But although Rory had broken her heart, and she’d been fond of Ethan and had been upset when he left, she’d never felt about a man the way she felt about Niall Brennan. Did he know that? Was he aware of how she’d felt—how she still felt—toward him?

She pushed the thought aside. Even if he was, it wouldn’t come to anything. He’d made it clear all those years ago that he wasn’t interested in her.

“So come on,” she said, half-wanting to change the subject, half-curious and desperate to know. “What happened with Tamsin?”

She didn’t really expect him to answer the question. Usually, he’d respond to any demand for personal information with a witty remark, an offhand joke that nevertheless waved a “Do not enter” banner above it. Niall and emotions were not two things that went together, and she waited for him to brush her off.

He sighed and took a mouthful of whisky. “We broke up.”

“I gathered that much. But why? What happened? I thought you two were going to grow old together. You seemed so well suited.”

Another mouthful of whisky. “We had a difference of opinion.”

Genie nibbled her top lip. He hadn’t told her to get lost. Her instincts informed her he wanted to talk, but he was so bad at it, he needed her to pry it out of him.

She softened her tone and stretched out on the sofa, gingerly bending her knee so she could bring her feet up. “What about?”

He covered her feet with a cushion, a tender gesture that made her smile. “Kids.”

That completely surprised her. She’d thought he was going to say sex or money. But children…

“Kids?”

He nodded.

“In what way? Did she want them and you didn’t, or vice versa?”

“She wanted them and I didn’t.”

Genie said nothing for a moment. She hadn’t known that about him. He’d never seemed anti-children. Like all young guys, he’d never been at ease with babies and tended to hold them like a rugby ball. But when his cousins had brought their young kids over to the house, he’d always played games with them in the garden, teased them in his inimitable way, and been the first on the scene if they fell over and scraped a knee. He was also godfather to Beck’s baby boy,
Teddy, and he adored the boy.

She sipped her whisky, enjoying the strong medicinal taste and the accompanying burn. Slowly, she was beginning to relax, sinking back into the sofa cushions, the tension of the evening leaving her muscles. “Why don’t you want kids?” She made sure there was no hint of accusation in her tone.

He heaved a sigh and looked out of the window. “It wasn’t so much that I didn’t want them…”

“You didn’t want them with her?”

He circled the liquid over the ice. “It wasn’t as simple as that. We’d been together a long time. Tam’s a couple of years older than me, and I guess she felt the body clock ticking more than I did. She kept talking about getting married and settling down and having kids, but every time she brought it up, I just went cold inside. I’d change the subject, and that would make her mad. In the end she gave me an ultimatum. I guess she thought it would force me to say yes, but I walked away.”

Lifting his drink, he stared moodily into it, then finished it off and put the glass down with slightly more force than was necessary.

“Sorry,” he said at the loud bang.

“It’s okay.” He’d opened up to her much more than she’d thought he would. Was that it, or would he reveal more if she pushed him? “So why didn’t you want to settle down with her? Were you bored with her? Because you’d been together so long?”

“No, not bored, that’s the wrong word.”

“What’s the right word?”

He shrugged, and they both smiled. “Don’t know,” he said. “I just kept thinking about forever, and I knew I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life with her.”

 Genie rested her head on her hand. “Is there someone else?”

“You mean did I cheat on her? No, never. I was faithful to her, Gin. There’s been nobody else since I was eighteen.”

“And since?”

He shook his head. “Celibate.” He rolled his eyes.

So it hadn’t been about another woman.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It makes me sad. I liked her, and I thought you looked good together.”

“Don’t,” he said sharply. He stood, picked up his glass, and marched over to the kitchen to pour himself another. “Don’t defend her,” he continued as he added more ice and a larger splash of whisky to the glass. “She doesn’t deserve your pity. She’s an attractive woman, and she’ll have no trouble finding the right guy to settle down with.” He came back to the sofa and sat heavily.

“I wasn’t defending her.” Genie frowned, taken aback by his sharp tone. “I’m sure you did the right thing. It’s better to make the break than stay together out of habit. It’s just…odd, that’s all. I’ve come back and it’s as if I’ve stepped through the looking glass—everything is the same but different, and it’s unsettling. Even Jonah’s not dating at the moment. I mean, seriously, what’s up with the world?”

Niall gave a short laugh. “That won’t last.”

“Of course it won’t. But it is odd. I’d say it was all to do with Ciara, but you broke up with Tamsin months ago, didn’t you?”

He nodded. “Halfway through August. Day after my birthday, actually. That pissed her off, too. She’d just bought me an expensive ring, hoping I’d get the hint, I think.” He blew out a breath and swallowed the whisky.

“How did she react? Was she mad?”

“Yeah.” He gave her a rueful smile. “Steaming. She broke my guitar.”

“Jeez.”

“Ah, I probably deserved it. I hurt her. She loved me and she just wanted some security—I can’t blame her for that. She was very bitter. Accused me of stealing the best years of her life.”

“She’s only thirty, isn’t she?”

“Nearly thirty-one.”

“That’s not old to have kids.”

“No, I guess not, but when she was younger she’d obviously had this picture in her mind’s eye of where she would be at that age, and this wasn’t it. She’s got to start again, and that’s not fun for anyone.”