A Secret Between Friends: A New Zealand Sexy Beach Romance (Treats to Tempt You Book 6) (7 page)

“Yeah. Sounds great.” Dear God. He’d undone the zipper so he could dry the expanse of chest with its light scattering of hair, but because he was moving around, the zipper was gradually descending. He raised his arms to dry his hair, and the two sides of the neoprene pulled apart to expose his flat, taut stomach, and a very happy trail of hair leading down…

Quite clearly, the guy was going commando.

“I thought maybe we could catch a movie afterward,” he was saying somewhere off in the distance.

“I…um…” It was no good. She’d lost the power of speech. The threat that the zipper was going to drop the last few inches and everything was going to pop out had scrambled any remaining sense she had.

Niall frowned. Genie had lifted her sunglasses onto the top of her head, and she was staring at him as if he’d told her he’d seen a flying saucer. She blinked once, slowly, and he had the strangest feeling she was trying incredibly hard not to look away from his face.

A breeze wafted across them, cool on his belly, and he dropped his gaze to see the zipper on his wetsuit a billionth of an inch away from exposing his manly parts to the tourists waiting to board the boat next to his.

“Shit.” He hastily pulled the zipper up a few inches. “Genie! You could have told me.” Hands on his hips, he looked back up at her and saw a faint tinge of red appear on her cheekbones, the way the sun brushed the sky with light crimson as it began to set. She
had
noticed, and that was why she’d been attempting to avert her gaze.

She was blushing. She’d wanted to look, and that notion had surprised her.

He gestured at his crotch with a hand. “If you want a peek, you only have to ask.”

The tinge of red turned into a whole sunset. “Why didn’t you just text me about Wednesday,” she snapped. “Why make me come all the way down here?”

“I wanted to see you,” he replied. Her face glowed scarlet. Genie Sharpe, blushing over him! Interesting
.
“I thought we could go for a coffee.”

“I’ve just had a coffee.”

“Lunch, then.”

“I’m not hungry.”

He tipped his head to the side. “Don’t be mad. If it’s any consolation, I wouldn’t mind seeing you naked either.”

Her eyes widened, and for a brief second he regretted saying it. Neither of them had ever made sexual advances before, and clearly she was as thrown by the notion of there being a spark between them as he was.

As the seconds ticked on and she still didn’t look away, he felt the ground shifting between them, as surely as if the pier had detached from the mainland and was floating out to sea. Her blue eyes darkened as her pupils dilated.

She moved closer, and for a second he thought she was going to kiss him. Then her eyes narrowed, and she prodded his chest with a finger. “You have some nerve, Niall Brennan.”

He blinked. “I do?”

“Thinking you can have any woman you want with one flash of your abs.”

“It wasn’t my intention to flash them.”

“Could have fooled me.” She prodded him again. “Standing in broad daylight and tantalizing your audience with the promise of a glimpse of your crown jewels.”

That made him laugh. “I really was just drying off,” he said honestly.

“Yeah, right.” Now the blush had died down, he saw she was enjoying sparring with him. She was so full of life and energy—it almost radiated out of her fingers and toes in rays of brilliant light. She was fucking amazing when she was like this—he’d forgotten how brilliant she was, how
alive.
Tamsin had never done this to him, had never made him feel as if he stood in front of a star about to turn supernova.

“If I’d meant to strip off, I would have done it.” His heart rate increased as the energy sparked between them, almost tangible. If her eyes burned any hotter, he was going to push her up against the fence and kiss her senseless.

“Go on then.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that a dare?”

“Let’s say yes.”

He caught the tag of the zipper between his fingers and lowered it an inch. “What do I get when I win?”

She nibbled her bottom lip. “A night in a police cell for indecent exposure, I would expect.” Her expression showed a hint of wariness. “You wouldn’t.”

He moved closer to her, ignoring the tourists still waiting to board, who were now interested in the scene playing out in front of them. The chemistry between him and her was obvious enough to make the onlookers grin. A couple of women appeared very interested in how far he was willing to go.

He lowered the zipper another inch, the neoprene contracting and pulling the two sides of the wetsuit apart. “Wouldn’t I?”

Her laughter fought with her alarm. “Niall…”

Taking her free hand in his, he maneuvered it to hold the zipper. Keeping his hand on hers, he moved it down. She’d be feeling the first curls of hair from his groin on the backs of her fingers.

“What are you going to do when you unleash the beast?” he murmured.

She gave a sharp exhalation through her nose. “The beast. Ha!”

His lips lingered above hers, almost touching, and he unzipped another fraction of an inch. “Do you think you can tame him?” He pushed her hand a little, so her fingers slid behind the wetsuit. Her eyes widened.

“Do I need to get my whip?” she said.

He raised an eyebrow. “I’d be careful with talk like that. If he stands to attention, you’re really going to be in trouble.”

The neoprene tightened, and the zipper slid one more notch.

Genie snatched her hand away as someone in the crowd whistled. She turned and walked off, back toward the town.

Niall laughed and pulled the zipper up to a safe distance, giving the crowd a wry glance as the women booed their disapproval. Ahead of him, Genie looked over her shoulder, still walking away, her eyes alight with laughter.

“Wednesday,” he called. “I’ll pick you up at five.”

She nodded and turned, limping slightly, and leaned on the cane as she crossed the pier and disappeared behind the shops.

His humor faded, and he climbed back onto his boat and went into the cabin to change. As he struggled out of the wetsuit and toweled himself dry, he thought about her injury and what she must have gone through, watching her best friend die. He had to remember that she wasn’t the same girl she’d always been, carefree and irreverent. She might pretend she hadn’t changed, but she couldn’t have come through that experience unscathed. This wasn’t the time to play with her feelings. She liked him, but he had to be absolutely sure he knew what he was doing if he initiated something between them.

Did he know what he was doing? Rarely, he thought, smiling to himself as he got dressed. That had never stopped him before, though.

*

He didn’t see Genie again for a few days. They exchanged a few fun texts, her remarking on his nerve at nearly exposing himself on the pier, him teasing her for failing to go through with the dare, but he kept it light and didn’t refer to the attraction that had simmered between them, and neither did she. He tried not to think about her while he ferried tourists out to the Hole in the Rock and organized parties of eager swimmers in and out of the water. It was difficult, though.

He kept recalling memories of their childhood, smiling when he thought of the pranks she’d played on him. She’d made his life a misery when he was a teenager. She’d put cellophane over the toilet bowl when he’d come home drunk at eighteen, run off with his clothes when he went swimming on the beach with his mates, and told Tamsin many tales from his youth he’d rather have kept private, including the time he’d fallen fully clothed into the swimming pool at a school gala in front of the whole Board of Trustees.

Having a conversation with his mother on Tuesday evening brought him down a little. She called him after work, as she did sometimes—she always had some little question to ask, but he knew all she wanted was to hear his voice. They exchanged pleasantries and chatted about their day, and then he decided to broach the subject.

“Have you seen Genie?”

“No.” Her voice turned icy. “And I have no desire to, either.”

“Mum…” He frowned at her vehemence. “Please.”

“Have you seen her?”

He hesitated, unsure whether to tell her about Ciara’s bucket list and what they’d planned to do. “Briefly,” he opted for. “And we’re catching up tomorrow.”

Sinead said nothing, and he could feel the waves of disapproval coming through the telephone.

“It’s not her fault,” he murmured. “She’s as cut up as the rest of us over Ciara’s death.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Seriously? She was like a daughter to you.”

“That makes what she did even more of a betrayal,” Sinead snapped. “I look after her all those years, and what does she do? Convince my baby to go into the Army! Of all things!”

“Ciara had a mind of her own,” he tried, although he knew it was useless. He’d attempted the argument before, and his mother always refused to accept that her daughter would have enlisted if it wasn’t for Genie.

“Niall, stop it. I can’t deal with it, not now.”

“Okay.” He changed the subject, hearing the desperation in her voice. This was the only way she could deal with her grief at the moment, and who was he to tell her she was wrong? Half of him still agreed with her, and he couldn’t blame her for her anger. When Genie was around, she shone bright as the sun, and she cast everyone else into shadow. Ciara hadn’t stood a chance, and although Sinead had let it go as the girls grew up, now she couldn’t deal with the outcome. She was his mother—he couldn’t help but feel some loyalty to her.

By the time five o’clock on Wednesday came, he was beginning to wonder whether spending too much time in Genie’s company was a bad idea, and he rolled up outside Beck’s house reluctantly. When she came out, though, he couldn’t ignore the way his spirits lifted as she walked toward the car. She was back to wearing jeans, and she’d pinned her hair up in its usual bun, but instead of the stone-colored or khaki cotton vests she favored, she wore a pale pink silky top edged with pink ribbon. He’d seen it before—it was Ciara’s. It made her look softer, more vulnerable maybe.

He had to remind himself it was the same girl who’d once handed in his senior summer camp form at school after circling “bedwetting” as one of his conditions—he’d never lived that down.

Did his mother know she had Ciara’s top? He decided not to tell her.

After opening the car door, Genie held out her cane and he slotted it carefully between them. She lowered herself into the seat and grinned at him. “Hey, you.”

“Hey.” He was pleased to see she was looking forward to their jaunt. “Ready to go?”

“Yep. Lead on.”

Genie clipped in her seatbelt as Niall put the car into Drive and pulled away, heading along the road that led through Paihia to the state highway.

“How are you?” he asked.

“I’m good.” Her voice sounded breathless even to her. She’d spent the last few days trying to convince herself the chemistry that had exploded between them on the pier was a figment of her imagination, an effect of sunstroke, or a side-effect of the medication she was taking. He was not attracted to her, and even if he was, nothing would ever happen. They weren’t suited. She was in the Army. His mother hated her guts. She was sure there were a hundred other reasons why a relationship would never work between them.

And yet she’d slid into the car and her heart had immediately decided to do a triple Salchow worthy of any Olympic figure skater.

She wasn’t sure why. He wasn’t wearing anything different than usual—an All Blacks rugby shirt, faded jeans, and his scruffy gray Converses—but he just looked…gorgeous. His hair was slightly damp at his temples and the nape of his neck—usually it would have indicated that he’d only recently got out of the water, but she suspected he’d just had a shower. He’d shaved off the stubble that had been there when she’d seen him at the pier, and she could smell his aftershave, subtle but intoxicating.

He wasn’t a big guy, just a tad over six foot, and although he was muscular, he didn’t have a huge build. She wouldn’t have classed him as an alpha male either. Although he had his moments, he wasn’t confrontational or particularly arrogant. He’d had a couple of girlfriends before Tamsin, but it appeared he hadn’t been with anyone else for years, so he was hardly your standard tomcat who couldn’t keep it in his pants.

But sitting there next to him, Genie couldn’t shake the notion that he was a hundred percent male. A hundred and ten percent. She’d always thought he was good looking, but she couldn’t deny it any longer—something had happened on the pier. Barriers they’d previously erected had come down, whether through her doing or his, and for the first time ever they’d reacted to one another like a man and a woman, and not two friends or siblings.

That moment when he’d placed his hand on hers, guided it to the zipper of his wetsuit,  and slid it down, she’d felt his warm stomach and springy hair on the back of her fingers. She’d lain awake that night cursing her inability to carry the dare through, but she’d known he wouldn’t back down, and the thought of lowering that zipper all the way, of seeing him naked…

“Been up to much?” he asked, and she realized she hadn’t said anything for a few minutes.

She snapped back to the present and shook her head. “Taking it very easy.”

“Doesn’t sound like you.” He winked at her.

“It’s the new me,” she said. “Calm and serene.”

He snorted in reply.

She smiled and looked out of the window. They were just passing
Between the Sheets
, and she caught a glimpse of Beck, tidying up the chairs and tables outside the bar.

“I have changed,” she said, watching the Paihia shop fronts pass by, with their displays of hats and sunglasses, and the Kiwiana souvenirs tourists loved to buy—sets of coasters and hats with pukekos and kiwi birds.

“In what way?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know yet. My life was a test tube containing different chemical substances, and all of a sudden someone’s turned on the Bunsen burner to heat it all up. The powders and liquids are melting and reacting, forming new compounds. Everything’s changing, and I’m not sure yet what will be in the tube when it’s finished.”

“Trust you to put a scientific spin on it.” He indicated and slowed the car as he approached the roundabout, then took the turnoff toward the state highway. “Is this all to do with Ciara?”

“I don’t know. I guess.” Some of it was, but she felt uncomfortable talking to him about his sister, especially considering his mother’s view on her.

“You’re wearing Ciara’s top,” he said.

That caught her out—she hadn’t thought he’d notice. “Um…yes. Sorry.”

He sent her an amused look. “I wasn’t accusing you. It looks nice. I’m just surprised to see you in pink.”

He was giving her the chance to keep the conversation on their usual level of bickering, but for once she decided not to take the bait. “I’ve been thinking about her a lot today,” she said honestly. “I know it might sound silly, but I wanted to be close to her.”

“Doesn’t sound silly at all.”

She looked out at the view of fields and trees, a river flashing blue in the distance. She had to ask him the question that had been bugging her since Jonah had suggested it. “Niall, did you tell Ciara you’d split up with Tamsin?”

“Yes, of course.”

A slither of cold filtered through her. “When?”

“Dunno. A week or so after it happened.”

“Why do you think she didn’t tell me?”

He slowed the car as they approached the state highway. “I don’t know.” He didn’t elaborate.

Genie wondered whether to press him, but his mouth was set in a firm line, his gaze fixed on the road. He didn’t want to talk about it, and she decided to let it pass, for now.

Instead, they talked about more lighthearted matters on the way to Kerikeri—about music and movies, and what sport they’d been watching. He was very easy to be with, she thought, watching him as he gave his opinion on the latest All Blacks lineup. Most of the men in her life were the same—relaxed, laid-back, low maintenance. The Brennans may have originally come from Ireland, but Niall and Finn had only been two and four when Sinead and Garret emigrated, so they’d grown up true Kiwi boys, and Ciara had been born in New Zealand. Like Genie’s natural brothers, Niall and Finn were rock solid men, intelligent but practical, comfortable in any company, as at home at a dinner party as they were at the beach.

But not as at home in the kitchen, it turned out.

The high school had a state-of-the-art set of kitchens that Fox had hired for his classes during the summer vacation. She knew the lesson was going to be a disaster before they even entered the kitchen when she saw the poster pinned outside proudly announcing “Cooking for couples.” She stopped and stared at Niall, who pulled an
eek
face. “Sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t you tell Fox you were with me?”

“No. Perhaps he assumed Tamsin was my plus one.” His lips twitched as he struggled to hold back his humor. “You want to leave it?”

She sighed. “No. As long as you’re aware that I’m not going to be coming around to cook you dinner every evening.”

Laughing at the thought, he held the door open for her, and she limped through.

There were about six other couples in the kitchen making themselves comfortable around the worktables. At the front stood a slim, dark-haired guy dressed in a chef’s white coat and checked trousers.

“Kia ora.” Niall said the standard Kiwi greeting as he walked up to him, and the two guys shook hands. Genie had met Fox once or twice, although she didn’t know him well. “You remember Genie,” Niall said, and she shook hands with the chef too.

“Of course,” Fox said. He looked from Niall to her and back again, clearly confused. “Are you two…ah…?”

“Nope,” they both said together, and then laughed. “My mistake,” Niall said, “I didn’t realize it was a course for couples.”

Fox waved a hand. “I should have said—I just assumed… Look, it doesn’t matter anyway. It’s just about having fun together. You’ll be fine.”

Niall looked doubtful, but he didn’t say anything as they took their seats. Genie wondered if he was concerned about the ‘couple’ tag being placed on them, but once Fox had explained what they were about to make and they got started, she understood what was bothering him.

Basically, he was useless in the kitchen.

Genie was hardly one to pass judgment on anyone who couldn’t cook, but she at least knew the difference between a sieve and a colander, and how to tell icing sugar from caster sugar.

Niall could barely tell the difference between an egg and a tub of cocoa powder. Okay, she thought with amusement, maybe that was a bit unfair, but after only a few minutes it became clear that the nearest he’d ever come to melting chocolate was leaving a bar of Dairy Milk on the dashboard of his car.

He had no idea how to attach the beaters to the electric mixer, when cracking the egg into a bowl he managed to get more eggshell inside than outside, and he looked completely baffled when Fox produced a piping bag and told them to pipe the choux mixture into small balls on the baking tray.

“Have you ever actually set foot in a kitchen?” Genie watched Niall concentrate as he squeezed the piping bag, his tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth.

“The microwave and I are very well acquainted.” He finished the last ball and straightened proudly. “And I can cook a mean steak on the barbecue. There’s not a lot of call for profiteroles in blokes’ rooms at uni.”

“Fair enough.” She placed the tray in the oven and set the timer. “Okay, we’ve got to make the filling. You can whip the cream.”

“Now that’s the kind of phrase that grabs my interest.”

She laughed and pushed a clean mixing bowl over to him. “I see. You into kinky stuff?” Did he enjoy tying a woman up before he teased her to ecstasy? Her insides fluttered.

He grunted and popped the cleaned beaters into the mixer. “Given half the chance, I’m sure I could be.”

She passed him the cream and began to grate the zest from the oranges. “Tamsin not into that sort of thing?”

“Not unless she could have one eye on
Desperate Housewives
or
Shortland Street
.”

Genie burst out laughing. Niall smiled wryly, then leaned on the table and blew out a breath. “I shouldn’t have said that,” he stated. “Sorry.” He took the tub of cream and ripped off the foil lid.

She tipped the orange zest into the bowl. “It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it.”

“I did mean it,” he said, and his voice held a hint of hardness. “But I’m not a kiss and tell kind of guy, and it’s not fair on her for me to go around telling tales about our relationship. I was hardly the perfect partner either, I’m sure.” He poured the cream over the zest and started the mixer.

Genie leaned on the table to watch him, touched by his admission. It sounded as if there was more to his breakup with Tamsin than not wanting kids. Perhaps he’d felt the relationship had grown stale, and when she’d started discussing children, the thought of forever with her had made him back off. When a couple met so young, it must be difficult if they grew apart rather than together.

He glared at the mixing bowl, seemingly unmindful that the whizzing beaters were splattering tiny drops of cream on his All Blacks shirt. “How long do I need to whip this?”

She examined the instruction sheet. “Until soft peaks form.”

“Soft peaks?”

“Yeah.”

He glanced up and a smile spread over his face, humor gradually replacing his frustration.

She chuckled. “What?”

He shook his head, looked back at the bowl, and then laughed. “Sorry. Now I’ve got nipples on the brain.”

She looked in the bowl at the cream that was beginning to thicken. “I can see why.”

The urge to flirt with him—to take away the sadness that had crossed his face as he’d mentioned his ex—overrode any caution residing deep inside. As he turned the mixer off, she dipped a finger in and brushed it across the top of one of the peaks, then lifted it to her mouth. “Mmm.”

“Genie…”

She leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, “I can think of lots more fun things to do with this.”

He hesitated for a moment as if fighting with himself about how to react to that provocative statement. What would he do? Berate her? Frown and say she’d crossed the invisible line?

To her delight, after ejecting the mixer beaters into the sink, he returned to lean on the table next to her, his upper arm just touching hers. The brush of his hot bare skin sent the hairs rising all over her body.

“Fun things like…” His light green eyes met and held hers, and once again she felt the shimmer of something between them.

He dipped his finger in the bowl and brushed it over the top of one of the peaks before lifting it to his mouth and sucking. The notion of him stroking across her nipples in the same way, of closing his mouth over them and sucking, spread heat through her.

“I can’t remember what I was going to say,” she said. “My mind’s turned to mush.”

He laughed, showing his straight white teeth, the slightly longer canines giving him a feral air with a touch of danger. “Me too.”

It was exciting, this foray into a relationship that could be more than filial, but it was also scary too. If they took that step out of a sibling relationship to something more, what would happen when it came to an end? She’d already lost Sinead and Garret—could she bear to lose him too?

He dipped his finger a final time in the bowl, then lifted it to her face. Before she could stop him, he touched the tip of her nose, leaving behind a dollop of cream.

“Niall…” Her exasperated protest halted as he leaned forward, touched his lips to her nose, and sucked away the cream.

“No,” Fox said, passing by with a grin. “There’s nothing going on between you two at all.”