White-Hot Christmas (21 page)

“I know.” She reached over and kissed him. “Happy New Year.”

His eyebrows rose. “Oh yes. Happy New Year, sweetheart.”

They studied each other for a moment, an ocean of unsaid things between them.

He broke the spell, shifting on the bed, moving his shoulders and arms, groaning a little.

“Are you sore?”

“Stiff.” He shot her a wry glance. “And not in a good way.” As she laughed, he swung his legs over the bed. “I think I’ll go for a quick workout.”

“Are you sure? Wouldn’t you be better off with a hot bath?”

“Nah, I need to loosen up. It’ll hurt, but it’ll be worth it.”

“Okay. I’ll put some toast on.” She got up and walked around the bed, but as she passed him, he reached out, grabbed her hand and pulled her toward him.

He put his arms around her and leaned his head against her stomach. “Thanks for last night.”

She stroked his hair gently. “You are very welcome, Mr. I’m-so-Polite.”

He gave a small laugh. “It was just what I needed.”

She touched his shoulders gently, brushing her fingers over the scratches and bruises. “I’m glad I was there. I can imagine it would have been difficult on your own.”

“Not at all. I’d have drunk the rest of that bottle of whisky and passed out on the sofa.”

She laughed. “Well, I guess I was better for your health. Now go on, run a gazillion miles and then maybe you’ll feel better.”

He planted a kiss on her fingers and let her walk away. She went into the kitchen, hearing the running machine starting up and then the regular pacing of his feet, beginning at a walk, gradually speeding up to a jog and finally to a flat-out run.

At that moment, the phone rang.

Thinking it was probably Julia, Merle answered it. “Hello?”

“Merle?”

“Bree?”

“Yeah, how’re you doing? How is he?”

Merle put some bread in the toaster. “Okay. Better now. Bit of a rough night. He’s working out, loosening up.”

“Good.” Bree hesitated.

“What’s up?” Merle put down the coffeepot and frowned.

“I’ve had a phone call from Mum.”

Merle went cold. “Oh?”

“I did something stupid, Merle.”

“Oh God, what?”

“She asked for you and…I told her you were with Neon.”

Merle couldn’t get her brain to think properly. “You said I was staying the night?”

“Yeah. She…she flipped. She screamed at me, saying it was my fault, I’d done it on purpose, finding a man for you here, and now you wouldn’t go back and she’d be all on her own…”

“Oh no, Bree…” Merle felt breathless with panic.

Bree was in tears. “I swear, Merle, I didn’t mean to tell her, I wasn’t thinking, but she wouldn’t listen to me. She kept talking about the cancer, saying she could feel it eating her, and she was dying and how we didn’t care. I tried to make her calm down but she went crazy…”

“Oh God, I’ll have to ring her.”

“I wasn’t sure whether to tell you or not, but I was so upset, Jake said I should ring…”

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault. It’s her, Bree, it’s not you.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll ring her. I’m leaving tomorrow anyway. I’ll reassure her I’m still going.”

“Let me know how it goes?”

“Yes. I’ll be back shortly. Neon will be off to work soon.”

“Was he pleased to see you?” Bree’s voice was small.

“Yes. I’m glad I was here.” Merle smiled. “I’ll see you later.”

She hung up and stood there for a minute, cursing. She’d said she didn’t blame Bree, but she wished with all her heart her sister hadn’t mentioned Neon.

She walked through the house and into the spare room. He was running flat out now, but slowed it to a walk as he saw her.

She indicated his bruised chest. “How are you feeling?”

“Loosening up now.” He frowned. “Are you all right?”

“Bree rang and said she’d spoken to Mum. Neon, I need to ring her. Do you mind if I use your phone to call the UK? It’s not that expensive now, four bucks an hour or something.”

“Of course not.”

“Thanks.” She smiled and walked out, hearing the machine speed up again. She went back into the living room and picked up the phone. Her heart felt heavy, and for a moment, she debated not calling. If Susan Cameron was in one of her moods, Merle doubted she’d be able to pull her out of it. But her sense of duty and responsibility was too strong.

She started to dial.

Chapter Seventeen

Neon had forced himself to move his stiff and tired muscles, and now settled into a regular rhythm, his body loosening and stretching like worked dough. His brain had been in neutral as he began, concentrating on the different parts of his body, but now he felt relaxed and comfortable, and his mind began to drift.

He thought once again about how he’d felt when he turned around at the station and saw Merle standing there, watching him. She’d been such a comfort in the night when he’d awoken from dreams of fire and being locked in places from which he couldn’t escape. Her soothing hands on his hair and soft kisses had dispelled the demons and calmed his racing heart.

In fact, at no point, in all the time they’d spent together, had she upset him, annoyed him or irritated him. Quite the opposite, in fact. He found himself looking for her when she wasn’t there, turning to her when she wasn’t touching him, and asking her questions when she’d fallen silent, just to hear her speak.

He thought about the conversation they’d had the previous night, when he’d asked her if she wanted children. What had she said?
Maybe
. A cautious answer.

A month ago, he would have laughed out loud if anyone had mentioned him having kids. Even though he knew it would probably happen one day, he couldn’t picture himself as a father. No, that wasn’t true—sometimes, when he was playing rugby or surfing, he could imagine showing a boy, maybe eleven or twelve years old, how to copy him, but he had no idea what to do with a girl, and as for babies… He was one of those men who would hold a baby like a rugby ball if it were handed to him. He had no clue, no idea.

But now? He thought about the young boy twisted in the seat belt and made himself remember how he’d felt when the lad held his arms toward him, knowing Neon was there to help him. How would it feel if it were
his
son? Reaching out for him?

It was immaterial really, because to have kids, first you needed to have a wife. And getting married, or staying with one woman long enough to think about it, was something he could never have contemplated before.

But now? He thought of Merle, her curvy figure and pale skin, her beautiful long strawberry-blonde hair, her wide blue eyes, her soft mouth, usually curved in a smile. He knew he could picture growing old with her. The thought of being with her day in, day out, was an attraction, not something to recoil from. And suddenly the idea of babies, of her being pregnant with his child, wasn’t scary but filled him with a glow he’d never felt before.

He slowed the running machine, walking for a few minutes. He needed to talk to her about this. There were obstacles, sure, but they’d purposefully ignored the subject of the future and trod around it as if it were a land mine, and that was no longer possible. They had to find the mine and disarm it—detonate it, if they had to, anything to get it out of the way and leave the future clear. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling. They’d only known each other a few days. But he knew he couldn’t let her go.

He bounced off the end of the machine and stopped it, grabbed a towel and, excitement rising in him, left the room.

The conversation was not going well.

Merle sighed and stood. She walked over to the large windows, looking out at the garden. The leaves on the trees and the luscious tropical plants bowed under the weight of the rain, mirroring the responsibility pressing on her.

“Mum,” she said patiently, “please calm down. It won’t be long and I’ll be back with you, and then everything will be fine.”

“Stop patronising me,” Susan snapped. “I’m not a five-year-old.”

Then stop acting like one.
The thought ran through Merle’s head, but she didn’t say it. Instead, she said, “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to be condescending. I was just trying to say you shouldn’t worry about what Bree said.”

“You don’t understand.” Susan’s voice faded to a whisper. “I know I’m a burden on you, sweetheart. I don’t mean to be.”

“You’re not a burden, Mum.” Well, what else could she say?

“But I don’t have anyone else. And I’m…so scared…”

Merle frowned. “What’s going on? What’s this all about? Are you feeling okay?” There was a moment of silence, which frightened Merle more than anything. Susan was never quiet, and always took the opportunity of a lull in the conversation to launch into a fresh tirade. “Mum? Tell me.”

“I…I wasn’t going to say anything until you got back…” Susan’s voice broke.

“Oh no, what’s happened?”

“I’ve been having terrible headaches… I called the doctor eventually and…he’s sending me back to the hospital. He thinks…he thinks the cancer might have spread to my brain.” Susan burst into tears.

“Oh God…” Merle pressed shaking fingers to her lips. “Oh Mum, I’m so sorry.”

“No, you’re not,” Susan sobbed.

“Mum!” Merle gasped, appalled.

“Don’t try and pretend like you care.” Susan’s sharp, cracked voice cleaved through Merle’s heart. “Cavorting about on the opposite side of the world with your fireman, with not a thought for me.”

“Stop it.” Merle was shaking all over now. “That’s incredibly unfair. I came here to get away for a while. I work hard, Mum, I needed a break, but I will be back, I promise.”

“I don’t believe you. You’re going to stay in New Zealand and marry this guy and then I’ll be here all by myself…” Susan’s voice was so high now only dogs could hear it.

“Marry him! Don’t be ridiculous. I’m on holiday—and I’m not a nun, for Christ’s sake, even
I
like to have sex at least once a year.” Merle felt panicky, knowing her mother could work herself up into a frenzy, which could be fatal if, indeed, she did have something else wrong with her. She had to calm her down. “Why would I want to live in New Zealand? England is my home.”

Standing in the doorway as he waited for her to come off the phone, Neon had soon become aware this was not a conversation he wanted to overhear. He desperately wanted to turn and walk away, but his feet appeared to be stuck to the floor, and he could only listen as, inside, he turned gradually to stone.

Merle heaved a sigh. “Bree doesn’t have a clue how I feel. It’s just a fling, Mum. Something to pass the time. He doesn’t mean anything to me.”

He must have moved, or gasped maybe, because Merle glanced over her shoulder. She froze as she saw him standing there. For a long second—the longest in history—they stared at each other. Then he turned and walked back along the hall.

He walked into the bedroom. His hands were shaking. He picked up the bottle of water on the bedside table and went over to the window. His heart was pounding as if he were running flat out. He stood rigid, one hand on his hip, the other holding the water so tightly the plastic bottle crackled in his hand.

There was a sound in the doorway, and he turned toward her. He kept his face carefully blank.

She walked in, stopped, walked forward a bit more then stopped at the foot of the bed.

He waited for her to burst forth, to start talking nervously, to try to explain what she’d said, but she didn’t. She faced him, biting her bottom lip, her eyes taking on that carefully guarded look he’d seen several times, usually when she was considering what to say.

He took a sip from the bottle of water, more from something to do than a need for refreshment. He studied her. She was still wearing his All Blacks T-shirt, her long hair tangled from sleep, utterly gorgeous.

“My mum’s in a bad way,” she said.

He said nothing, the water he’d drunk making him feel sick.

“She was very upset. She needed reassurance.”

His heart was pounding so hard, for a moment he thought he was having a heart attack. He kept his eyes fixed on her, although he forced his body to remain in a casual, relaxed pose.

Merle took another step forward. She looked incredibly calm. How could she be so calm? “I didn’t mean it,” she said carefully. “I said it to placate her. You know I didn’t mean it.”

“Hey, I told you the first time we met, you don’t have to justify yourself to me.” He put down the bottle, standing with both hands on hips. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter one way or the other, does it? You’re going back. I live here. What’s to talk about?”

For the first time he saw a flicker of emotion in her eyes. “I didn’t mean it,” she said for the third time, her voice husky. “You have to believe that.”

He shrugged, his gaze on hers. “Whatever.”

She swallowed and came closer until she was standing a foot away. Her eyes were dark with unsaid words, and he knew what she was going to say—and couldn’t bear her to say it.

“Neon, you know I lo—”

“Don’t say it!”

She stopped, shocked. “What? Why?” She frowned. “What’s so bad about saying it? Why are you so bloody anti-commitment? Why do you push every woman away?”

His stomach was churning. A minute ago, she’d told her mother he meant nothing to her. Now she was trying to say she loved him? Clearly, the words held no meaning for her, and that was his fault.

“I made a bet with Jake.”

She looked puzzled. “What?”

“I bet him I could make you fall in love with me before the end of your holiday.” He flicked out his hands.
Ta-da
. “Guess I win.”

Her eyes flickered with anger, hurt. “You made a bet? What the hell? So that’s all this has been? It’s all a fake?”

He glared at her. “Are you going to lecture me on taking bets? How much money have you made this week?”

She couldn’t have been more shocked if he’d slapped her. Her eyes looked deep into his, her mouth an
O
of surprise. Then she dropped her gaze to the floor, ashamed.

It wasn’t enough. He wanted to hurt her, to make her feel as bad as he was feeling. “Getting paid for having sex, Merle?” he said softly. “Really? There’s a name for women who do that.”