Seduced by the Baron (The Fairy Tales of New York Book 4) (11 page)

It broke her heart how lonely he’d been since her mom had died.

“Why Baron?” she asked. “Where’d the name come from?”

He grinned. “My surfing mates gave me shit about being a beer baron when I took over the brewery and it kind of stuck.”

“Fair enough,” she laughed.

Someone wobbled and fell in front of them and they skated around. “So, what’s the story with your father?” he asked. “I take it he’s not well?”

Faith drew in a short breath. Even just thinking about Pop’s state of health turned everything to water inside her.

“He’s in mild cardiac failure. He had several heart attacks a couple of years after Mom died then a quadruple bypass and a valve replacement not long after that. He really needs a new valve but he’s refusing the operation so they’re managing him on medication at the moment but he tires easily and I can tell his condition is slowly getting worse.”

Raf let her hand go as they ambled past Prometheus again and snaked his arm around her shoulders instead, drawing her in closer to his side.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “That must be worrying for you.”

“Yes,” she admitted, as the lights from the skyscrapers blurred and grew starry halos through the tears pooling in her eyes. Faith’s anxiety over Pop was increasing. She was worried that something sudden could happen. “I just wish he’d reconsider the surgery,” she said, her voice low as emotion clogged her throat.

“Why doesn’t he want it?”

Raf’s big body, his smooth voice somewhere above her head as they lazily circled the rink were strangely soothing and she leaned into him a little more.

“His other surgeries were hard with complications both times. So he’s adamant he’s not going through it again. But honestly…” her cheek brushed Raf’s coat as she looked up directly at the little scar under his chin. “He misses my mom so much I think he’s just marking time until he can be with her again.”

Emotion husked her voice and clawed at the back of her throat for an outlet.

“They were together a long time?”

Faith nodded, returning her attention to their path. “Twenty-five years. It was a whirlwind romance. She came to the U.S. on holiday from Ireland. She was twenty-five. Pop was fifteen years older than her, a confirmed bachelor.”

“That’s a
long
time.”

“Mercy said your parents are divorced?”

“Yes. Three times. Each.”

Faith pulled her head away and stared at him. “Three times?”

He nodded, seemingly unconcerned. “Each.”

“Wow.”

He chuckled. God, even his teeth were sexy! “Yes. I know. It sounds ridiculous even saying it.”

“So are they both currently married or…”

“They’re both on their fourth marriage.”

Faith shook her head. She knew plenty of people who were divorced and even on their second marriage, but their fourth?

“Well it’s…” she sought around for something complimentary to say, “nice they haven’t given up on love.”

He laughed. “That’s one way of putting it. Trust me, my parents are
experts
on love.”

His tone didn’t sound particularly bitter more… exasperated. But even so-called
good
divorces took a toll on the children involved. “How old were you when they got divorced?”

“Nine.”

Nine?
It was so hard thinking about this big, easygoing man as a little kid with fighting parents and divided loyalties. She fixed her gaze on the flags. “Did you live with your mother after?”

“Yes. She moved back to California – ”

Faith glanced at him sharply. “Your mother is American?”

He nodded. “She lives in SoCal. Not far from Zuma Beach. When husband number two came along she sent me home to Dad and then when he got married the second time Mum’s marriage was on the rocks so I spent two years on and off out at my grandfather’s cattle station.”

For someone who had been bounced around a bit he didn’t sound too emotionally affected by it at all. “That sounds… lonely.”

“Nah, it wasn’t that bad.” Their skates shushed as they navigated the bend. “It’s not like I’m emotionally scarred by it or anything. I knew they both loved me in their own way and spending time in California gave me the surfing bug. They tried their best. They just weren’t…made for monogamy.”

And there was the big red flag because neither, according to Mercy, was Raf. So he
was
emotionally scarred. Sure, he wasn’t overtly affected. He was a fully functioning human being who clearly enjoyed life and all its fruits. But his inability to commit
was
a wound that had clearly sprung from parental patterns of behavior. And not just committing to relationships. He’d gone from a transient home life to a transient work life on the pro surfing circuit.

A life that had made it easy for him to come and go. That made relationships difficult. That gave him an easy out.

Raf Quartermaine
had
been affected by his parents’ divorce. It had turned him into a commitment-phobe.

Faith’s heart sank. She didn’t know why. Raf was perfect for her purposes. A little bit of sex and fun for a short time then he’d leave so she could concentrate on the things in her life that were important and needed her full focus.

Her father. The pub. Her friends.

Raf was temporary. And that was okay. She could do temporary. She just needed to remember it.

“What about you?” he asked breaking into her reverie. “How come a gorgeous woman like you hasn’t had some hulking great guy put a ring on your finger?”

Right.
When had she had the opportunity to cultivate a serious relationship? “What makes you think I want a ring on my finger?”

He looked at her, clearly surprised. “I don’t know. The daughter of a twenty-five-year whirlwind love match? I thought you’d believe in all that happily ever after stuff?”

Maybe.
Once upon a time…

She shook her head. “I don’t think love at first sight is very twenty-first century, do you?”

“No. Lust at first sight, however,” he said, eyes locking with hers, “crosses all time periods.”

Faith lost herself in the heat and promise in his eyes. Never had truer words been spoken. Lust was alive and well on the ice tonight. Just as it had been in the basement. She broke away from his gaze before she melted into a puddle. “So what do
you
believe in?” she asked.

“I believe in…loving the one you’re with.”

Faith almost laughed out loud –
of course he did
 – but there was a seriousness to his tone that was sobering. Was he trying to shock her? Or was he trying to send her some kind of message about the limitations on offer here?

Only one way to find out. “Is this your way of telling me that you’re not in the market for anything serious?”

He snow ploughed to a stop and she followed suit while their fellow skaters flew around them as colorful as carousel horses.

“I don’t want to give you the wrong idea, Faith. I’m attracted to you.
Insanely
attracted to you. But I’m only here for five weeks and I live in Australia and I travel constantly. My lifestyle sucks for any kind of long-term thing and that’s fine by me because I’m not looking for long term. So, no…I’m
not
in the market for anything serious. But I think we could have a lot of fun together if that’s the kind of thing you’re after.”

Faith understood what he was telling her. He was a Crosby, Stills and Nash song.
He loved the one he was with
. He was casual with a capital C. He was the player Dawn had pegged him as.

Was
that the kind of thing she was after? Sex with no commitment? A fling? Fun and games without a future? After nine months of watching her friends having all the fun while she treaded water, how could she not? She’d made her bed at Sully’s, a bed with sensible cotton sheets she’d been happy to lie in. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t switch to decadent black satin just this once, surely?

“It is,” she said, her voice tremulous because it was the craziest thing she’d ever done and she wanted it bad. “I can’t promise I’ll be able to indulge as often as you might like but…I’m
so
ready for some fun.”

He grinned. “Well all right then.”

She glanced at her wrist watch. “Almost midnight.”

“Do you turn into a pumpkin?” The tease in his voice stole her breath. She could listen to him tease her all day long.

All
night
long.

“We’ll have to get off the ice soon.” Faith’s muscles tensed a little at the mere thought of what was
next
.

“We could go now, if you want? Beat the hordes off the rink?”

Faith nodded, suddenly stupidly nervous. “We could get a hot chocolate at Starbucks?”

He nodded slowly. “Or we could,” he said, raising a gloved hand to her forehead and fingered that one recalcitrant curl that always fell forward, “go back to the Marriott for something a little…harder?”

Faith had no idea if he meant liquor, sex or a game of twister but she was up for all three.

As of tonight, she wanted whatever he was offering.

Faith nodded, her blood flowing through her body in a slow, thick, wanton pound. “I’d like something harder.”

He dropped her curl with a smile then held out his hand.

‡

A
nticipation quickened Raf’s
pulse as he slid his electronic key through the slot in the door. He pushed it open and indicated she precede him. Her curls brushed his chin as she passed by and he caught a waft of cherry blossom or something equally as fanciful.

He turned the lights on to a dim glow as he followed her in. “Let me take your coat,” he said coming up behind her as she stood in the middle of the room, staring at his neatly made king-sized bed.

He’d just about swallowed his tongue when Faith had come downstairs tonight after her shower in that red top and those black boots. Practically every male at the bar had and he’d been counting down the minutes until she could shed her heavy winter outer clothes to reveal it all again.

And this was the moment.

She shrugged out of her coat then unwound her scarf and removed it before finally unzipping her polar fleece sweater and pushing up the sleeves. He was disappointed she hadn’t gone all the way but with her zip open he could see the incredible way her shirt pulled a little taut across her breasts and the fascinating shadow on her cleavage.

He shed his own coat, jacket and scarf and hung them all in the hall cupboard. He liked how good her long navy coat looked hanging next to his and hoped to God, it’d stay right there til morning.

“Glass of merlot or Cab Sav?” he asked, deliberately forcing himself to take this slow. He’d rushed things in the basement and he didn’t want to do that again.

She turned. “You drink wine?”

Raf laughed. “I have been known to on occasion.” He held up the two bottles for her to choose one, his gaze momentarily sliding to the taut pull of her shirt.

“Whatever,” she murmured. “I really don’t mind.”

“The merlot it is,” he said with a smile. “I’ll pour. Why don’t you check out the view?”

Faith seemed grateful for the suggestion, turning decisively towards the windows. She pulled the gauzy curtain fabric back and looked out.

“That’s a helluva lot of neon you guys have got going on out there,” he said, feeling the need to commentate, to fill up the silence with words lest she suddenly chicken out. “You can see all of Times Square and the New Year’s Eve ball thingy.”

She laughed, glancing over her shoulder at him. “New Year’s Eve ball thingy?”

“Yeh,” he said with a grin, picking up their glasses and heading her way. “You know the one that drops. Here you go.” He passed a glass to her then held his aloft. “Thank you for the date. I’m always going to remember the night I ice skated in the middle of Manhattan.”

She tapped her glass to his. “Me too.”

He took a sip of his wine, watching her over the rim of his glass as she also took one. She looked at him for long moments before turning back to the window. “You have a great view.”

Raf nodded. “The best.” But he wasn’t looking out at the neon lighting up Times Square. He was looking at her reflection.

She pressed her forehead to the glass and looked down. “There are so many people out and about so late on a Monday night.”

The sense of envy in her statement clenched his gut.
She
should be out this late enjoying herself. She was young and gorgeous and single. She shouldn’t be holed up letting life pass her by in a pub in Brooklyn however noble her reasons.

He stepped in close, his front aligning with her back, his hand sliding onto her hip. She lifted her head, her curls brushing soft and springy against his chin and throat. Their gazes met in the glass.

“Are you warm now?” Because he was hot. So, fucking hot.

“Yes.”

Her low, husky voice went straight to his dick and his heart thundered in his chest as he slid his glass onto the nearby table. He reached for hers and she surrendered it without complaint. He slid his hands onto her shoulders along her collar bones to the open edges of her polar fleece, tugging gently to peel them back, dragging the sweater off her shoulders and down her arms, throwing it behind him in the direction of the nearby chair uncaring if it actually made it.