The Honeymoon Trap (7 page)

‘Still there.’ He handed her the coffee and their fingers touched. Emphatically still there and destined to become a problem.

‘Maybe it’ll dim with the day.’ She savored her coffee slowly and got about halfway through it before deciding that food was now in order. She chose fruit and yoghurt first, and then went back for pastry and topped up her coffee with hot water after that. Double shot espresso my ass, he thought wryly. The Zoey wife liked her coffee weak.

‘Oh, I could get used to this,’ she said with a grin as she settled back on the day bed once again. ‘What time is it?’

‘Seven-thirty.’

‘Feels later. Did you catch the sunrise?’

‘Yeah. It was a sluggish silvery one. Very low key.’

Her smile at his words surpassed sunrise several times over. ‘I love that you have categories for describing sunrise.’

And then she was gone, like a teasing breeze, flinging open the bathroom doors and pausing to close her eyes and breathe. ‘Today I’m going to smell like handmade lemongrass soap with a hint of ocean foam. Or should I smell of roses instead? I’m going to the convention as Sherlock. He could probably go either way.’

From teasing breeze to cross-dressing whirlwind in point zero two seconds flat.

And all of it directed his way.

There were costumes. Fully a quarter of the attendees were pretending to be someone or something else. There was a big medieval peasant contingent. A goodly number of pirates. Blue-green body paint was very popular. And then there was Zoey, resplendent in knee-high black leather boots and dark grey breeches, top coat, waistcoat, a ruffled white shirt and a black bowler hat.

She had every intention of trying out every game they came across though. She handed out business cards as if they were lollipops. ‘Do you always mix business with pleasure?’ he asked at one point, after she’d stopped for an in-depth discussion with an elf, regarding the top five swordsmiths of today.

‘Don’t you?’

He liked what he did for a living, sure enough. But mix it with social elements the way his brothers did and the way Zoey did?

‘No. Cutter does. He’s got a knack for keeping our trawler crews happy with BBQs and big breakfasts and then keeping them completely on task when they’re out to sea. He’d crew the trawler day in-day out if we’d let him.’

‘Why don’t you let him?’

‘It’s too much. He’d burn out, and we want him around for years to come. I don’t enjoy the fishing as much and neither does Caleb but we take our turn. My father and grandfather kick in and help too. Lightens the load.’

‘What about your womenfolk? Do they work the trawlers?’

‘My mother did when we were kids. I don’t think she trusted us to stay safe without her there to keep us roped on. These days she does all the bookwork for the family businesses and keeps us honest instead. She leaves the fishing to us.’

‘What about your brothers’ girlfriends?’

‘They don’t last long as it is, let alone if we put them to work. My brothers are easily distracted.’

‘I did notice that. Did
your
girlfriend ever go out on the trawlers with you?’

‘No.’

‘Any particular reason why not?’

Eli frowned as he considered her question. ‘It just never occurred to me to ask. She dived with us. Helped around the marina if I was working and she was waiting.’

‘How did she die?’

The question was altogether matter of fact. After five years, Eli could aim for matter of fact too. ‘She and a bunch of friends were driving home from a party one night. They hit a truck.’

‘Where were you?’

‘You’re very direct.’

‘Life’s short. I like asking questions and getting answers.’

‘I was somewhere off the coast of Newcastle, delivering a yacht to a client.’ He hadn’t been responsible for Simone’s death, hadn’t fought with her beforehand. He carried no guilt when it came to the accident that had taken her life. Small mercies. Or maybe they were big mercies. ‘When do you want to go out on a trawler?’ he heard himself ask.

‘Do you mean it?’

He nodded. His brothers would like as not flay him. There was every possibility that he might hand them the swords – provided, of course, that he could find ones with the right hilt, tang and blade because apparently that was important. ‘Tie you on if it’s rough and you want to go out on deck, same way my mother did for me.’

Her smile could have lit up the darkest of oceans. ‘How about on the way home from here?’

Another night with her. Let her use his apartment to clean up in, rest in, before she continued on her way. ‘Sure.’ What the hell was he thinking? ‘Why not?’

He knew damn well what he was thinking. Sweaty nights and twisted sheets and a warm and willing Zoey in his bed –
that’s
where he was going with this. From zero to light speed in zero point two seconds.

‘Gorgeous man.’ She shed her coat, and he took it from her and slung it over his shoulder and told him she was off to find the ladies’ room, so he planted himself at the nearest interesting gaming console and immersed himself in the latest role playing wonder. She found him some time later, a giant-sized pretzel in hand as she leaned against his shoulder and watched him play.

Within minutes she was his most ardent supporter, drawing attention, attracting a crowd, and all of a sudden their game was up on the big screen for all to see and Eli grinned and attacked and Zoey cheered and maybe this wasn’t quite what his brothers had had in mind by way of expanding Eli’s world, but it was a fine world to be in, both on screen and in the convention hall.

‘I really need to make you that coat,’ she murmured in his ear. ‘Black would work for you, or a dark charcoal grey.’ Hands on still as she measured the breadth of his shoulders by splayed hand spans. She did the same from shoulder to waist. ‘If you want it right it’s going to take two or three fittings.’

‘Why do I want it at all?’

‘Because it’ll be fun, Elias.’

‘This isn’t fun?’

‘It’d be more fun if I was playing too.’

So he handed her his controller and relieved her of the still warm, giant pretzel.

‘Not quite what I had in mind,’ she grumbled, but she was in the thick of things soon enough, and verbally decimating her opposition in distinctly Sherlock Holmes fashion – questioning his tactics and his choice of cape. ‘No capes,’ she declared emphatically. Could be she was channeling a cartoon character, could be she meant it.

‘Wouldn’t that put you out of business?’

‘No capes when in battle?’

‘What about a matador’s cape?’

‘Eli, go and be useful somewhere else.’

‘Bossy chicks in drag, dude,’ the painted green guy standing next to him declared with a heartfelt sigh. ‘Sexy.’

‘I’m not a chick,’ said Zoey. ‘I’m a eunuch.’

Green guy moved on fast. Eli filled his face with pretzel to stave off a grin.

‘Aren’t you leaving too?’ she asked archly.

‘And leave my eunuch unguarded and coatless? That’s never a good idea.’

They didn’t spend the day
together
together. When different interests took Zoey in a different direction she went without a backward glance. But she returned to his side for lunch, with the three amigos in tow, and she circled back around to him at different times during the afternoon. Keeping an eye on him, touching base, for what reason he didn’t know. She could have hooked up with other people, other gamers, a dozen times over but she hadn’t.

And then, as she left again and he watched for her return, it occurred to him that she was doing the rounds of all the people they’d met so far, and that every time she met up with someone she had to touch them physically in some small way. A handshake, or for those she already knew a hand to their shoulder or their forearm. Tactile woman – he knew that from moment one, but this was something else, something more. As if by touching them, she was letting them know that she was there.

‘What do your parents do?’ he asked her, when she flitted round to him again.

‘My mother’s a kindergarten teacher and my father’s a builder. He does houses, sheds, a lot of prefab steel barns and sheds. Why?’

‘You touch people a lot. Maybe your mother was a masseuse. Maybe you grew up in a family full of acrobats.’

‘Nope. It’s really no one’s doing but mine. Does it bother you that I’m big on touch?’

‘I’d probably just ask you why.’

She looked down at her sleeve and plucked at the cuff of her shirt as if measuring what to say. ‘They say that touch is the second last sense to go,’ she offered quietly. ‘After that goes, you just talk to them.’ She still didn’t meet his gaze, and that was unusual for her. ‘I touch people out of habit, Eli. Because I want them to know that I’m around and that they’re not alone. I touch because I want the reassurance that
I’m
not alone.’

He didn’t understand.

‘Just go with it, healer. It’s not a sexual thing. Except with you.’
Now
her gaze met his. ‘Where you’re concerned I touch out of habit and realize about a second later that touching you does very sexual things for me. That’s new. I’m still hoping I’ll get over it.’

He reached up and tucked a stray tendril of hair around her ear, making sure that his fingers were gentle as they traced a curve around her ear. ‘I’m not sure I want you to.’

‘That’s just cruel,’ she whispered, but her eyes were dark and her hand had come up to capture his and press his palm to the curve of her cheek. She closed her eyes, and those too long lashes swept down over pale cheeks. ‘Having said that, just do me a favor and don’t move for a moment. Let me pretend.’

He could do better than that.

Her eyes were still closed when he bent and carefully brushed her lips with his own. ‘I’m here,’ he whispered. ‘And I like it when you touch me. It gets me hot and hard and makes me want things I haven’t wanted in a long time. You’re not alone.’

‘Your girl. The dead girl—’

‘Simone.’

‘Simone, yes. Last night you pulled back because of her.’

‘I know.’

‘You planning on doing that again?’

‘Probably.’ So soft and giving, her lips. A promise met. An irresistible lure. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Do you know who you’re kissing?’

‘I’m kissing you.’

‘Not Sherlock?’

‘He’s there too.’

‘Fuzzy?’

‘She’s there. She’s my lady warrior wife, with violet ribbons in her hair.’ Their heads were still so close together as they shared whispered words of fantasy laced with pain.

‘I think it’s okay, Eli, if memories of all your other loves are in this kiss too. If they weren’t, it wouldn’t be you.’

Her lips touched his again, gently, no pressure, and yet she savored him, even so. He responded in kind, sliding in slow and taking his time, his hand still on her cheek, his skin rough but the hand itself not so. Gentle, this kiss full of echoes and desire. And when it came to the crux of things there were only two people in it.

He let her go reluctantly, loath to break the connection but they had to. They were in a conference hall surrounded by people. This wasn’t the place.

It was starting to feel like the time.

‘Phew,’ she said breathlessly. ‘How would you feel about ditching the con in favor of seeing whether that beach is open yet? Or even a pool? I think I’m in need of a cool down.’

‘We could do that.’

Zoey’s eyes lightened. ‘Shall we go find our chauffer?’

T
here was a
lot to be said for getting out of the constricting garb of Sherlock Holmes and into an itty bitty blue bikini, decided Zoey half an hour later as she rummaged around in her suitcase for a towel. A white slip-on sundress, silver sandals for her feet, straw hat for her head, and Zoey was ready for the beach. Eli hadn’t even taken that long to get ready. It seemed that the man could strip down to board shorts and T-shirt within seconds.

‘What do you usually wear to work?’ she asked as they crossed the road out front of the hotel and she stopped to remove her sandals before setting feet to the almost-white sand. It squeaked beneath her footprints, superfine and somewhat on the hot side.

‘If a client comes calling about a boat design, I can usually manage decent casual wear. Otherwise, you can usually find all three of us in some variation of shorts and T-shirt.’

‘The joys of the self-employed.’

‘What do you wear?’ he asked. ‘Costumes?’

‘Skirt and top.’

He looked a little skeptical.

‘Okay, sometimes I pretend I’m Audrey Hepburn and wear a slim fit dress, wide head band or scarf and funky sunglasses. If only I had a Vespa.’

‘Nothing wrong with your imagination.’

‘Nothing at all.’ She surveyed the beach with a slight frown. Plenty of sunshine and no shortage of people, most of them engaged in some sort of activity on the sand. The flags were up though and two lifesavers were in attendance. ‘Why do you think there aren’t many people in the water?’

‘Too cold, too rough, a big rip or the bluebottles from this morning haven’t gone away yet. There’s always the ocean baths.’ He pointed along the beach, towards the headland and the swimming pools carved into the rock there.

‘Can we try here first?’

‘You’re going to get tossed around out there, lightweight.’

‘I can handle it. Should I go flailing past you on my way out to sea, you have my full permission to grab me and haul me back to safety.’

‘Fair enough.’

‘And I may need to cling to you like a barnacle for a bit if I get tired.’

‘I’ll keep that in mind.’

Zoey looked to the water once more. It really was a washing machine out there. ‘And you’ll
tell
me if my bikini goes askew, right?’

‘Sure.’ He dropped his towel and peeled his T-shirt up and over his head. Zoey surveyed the terrain and gave a happy sigh.

‘Not Walnut, and emphatically not Peanut,’ she murmured. ‘Tell your brothers that you’re Teak.’

‘That ain’t happening any time soon.’

Grinning, Zoey peeled off her dress and dropped it on the clothes pile and it was Eli’s turn to pretend he wasn’t looking. Her tan was several shades lighter than his and she was somewhat on the slender side, but she could claim some small curves here and there and she was proud of them.