Wild About the Man (Mills & Boon Modern Tempted) (7 page)

Waiting for the next lightning strike to light up the room, he frowned when he saw her bed was empty.

‘Clem?’

Nick stepped into the room and his heart clenched when he saw her on the floor, knees to her chest and her arms over her head. Crouching down in front of her, he placed a hand on her head and another on her shoulder. ‘It’s just a storm, Clem.’

Terrified eyes looked at him from a pale, bloodless face. She was scared down to her soul, Nick realized. Lifting her hands off her head, he pulled her arms around his neck and scooped her up.

‘Let’s go to my room, I’ve got a lamp burning.’

Another flash of lightning had Clem jumping in his arms as he maneuvred her into the passage and, pushing open his door with his foot, walked with her into his room.

He pulled back the sheet and thin bedspread on
the other side of his bed and placed her inside the covers, pulling the sheet over her shoulders when he noticed the fine tremors running through her body. He looked at the curtains billowing in the wind and shook his head … Thunder and lightning was one thing but they needed the heavy drops, the pounding fury of a violent summer storm.

He looked over to Clem, curled up in his bed, her eyes screwed shut.

Why was he so focused on this woman? Normal women were difficult enough to figure out, but this one was the biggest, craziest complication he’d ever come across. She was his chief investor’s darling daughter, lived a life that kept magazines and tabloid newspapers churning and was, basically, a royal pain in his butt.

He hated the fact that he found Clem intriguing … but there was something about her that made him want to scratch below the surface. Why was she so terrified of thunderstorms? What was it like growing up with an icon for a mother? Did she have a good relationship with her father? He understood that she’d just come out of a long term relationship but he sensed that the lost, desperate look in her eyes had been there for a long, long time.

Thinking like this was dangerous, Nick reminded himself. It made it harder to be sensible, to stay mentally uninvolved, to keep his barriers impenetrable.

He’d made the right decision years ago to keep
his relationships with women—hell, with people, family—devoid of emotion. He’d been surrounded by passionate, emotional people all his life and, even when he’d—subconsciously—chosen a self-reliant, undramatic and seemingly dispassionate woman for a wife, his marriage had ended in a mess of all the seething, complicated feelings he’d tried to run away from.

Yet, for some weird reason, Clem’s arrival had put those unwelcome feelings back on to simmer.

She flung her arms over her head and screamed into the mattress as another lightning strike hit the hill behind them. Sighing, Nick walked to the bed and lay behind her, his arm protectively wrapped around her waist.

It wasn’t until the thunder faded and heavy raindrops bounced off the roof that Clem slept, with her hand holding his hand against her heart.

For once, Clem woke up before Nick. She slipped out from under that broad hand on her hip and, after she’d returned from the bathroom, she curled up into his easy chair and watched him sleep.

She’d made a grave error by assuming that he wouldn’t check on her during the storm and she was mortified that he’d found her, whimpering like a fool, huddled in a corner. She should’ve known that he was a protector, he did it so naturally and his basic instinct was to look after the well being of all living creatures on his land.

That seemed to include her.

She hated storms. She didn’t know if she’d have been able to get through it without Nick—literally—having her back. But she’d revealed too much of herself and, while he hadn’t asked for any explanations, she knew he’d be curious about her phobia. And, strangely, she felt herself wanting to tell him, to explain why she associated lightning and thunder with the most devastating time of her life.

He’d understand, she was sure of it. She suspected that he had a well tuned emotional antenna beneath that obvious I-am-happy-alone personality. He was, Clem admitted, the most self-sufficient person she’d ever come across and she found that trait of his personality deeply attractive.

Possibly because she was such a tangle of insecurity herself, not being sure if she’d ever been unconditionally loved, even by her parents. Clem winced. That reeked of self-pity but it didn’t make it less true. They had been few, if any, words of love and their actions had spoken loudly.

Her mum’s litany of broken promises ranged from missing dinners to dance recitals and graduation ceremonies. There had always been something so much more important to do—a story to cover, a discussion in parliament to attend, a report to write.

Her father hadn’t been any better. How nice if would’ve been if he’d arrived with the jet to take her from New York to Nick’s, providing physical and mental support instead of just a means of
transport and a place to hide out. But he’d been in sensitive negotiations and couldn’t leave.

There were always sensitive negotiations on a deal that couldn’t be left.

Maybe that was why she so badly wanted a child. Someone to give her unconditional love to, someone to love her back. Maybe then the emptiness inside would go away.

‘You’re a bed hogger,’ Nick said and she snapped her head up. How long had he been leaning on his elbows, watching her?

‘A what?’

‘You hog the bed like a starfish. Good thing we’re not sleeping together because that would be a deal breaker.’

‘Hey guys, where are you?’ Mdu shouted and Clem bolted upright.

‘Are they supposed to be filming so early? How did they get here?’ She kept her voice low. ‘What are we going to do? If they find me in here they are going to think that I’m sleeping with you!’

Nick looked from her to the bed and back again and she threw a pillow at his head, secretly grateful for an excuse to avoid any awkward morning-after discussions. ‘Nick!’

‘Thinking, thinking …’

Luella Dawson’s blog:

THIRTY
minutes later, after boosting Clem over the wall that separated their outdoor showers, Nick was scrambling eggs for breakfast. He swallowed when Clem walked into the kitchen, dressed in a pair of khaki shorts, a Two-B golf
shirt and the dusty hiking boots he’d found for her in the uniform store.

He thought he’d never seen anything sexier in his life. She looked fresh and young, less like the cosmopolitan heiress than ever, and a far cry from the vulnerable girl of last night. Because his heart stumbled and fell over his feet, his voice came out clipped. ‘Boots fit?’

Clem looked down and shook her head in horror. ‘Yes, but have you ever seen anything uglier? Good grief, if there was an award for ugly shoes, these would win.’

Nick tugged her hair as she walked past. ‘You’ll think they are great if you get tagged on the foot by a puff adder.’

Nick narrowed his eyes as he noticed Mdu trailing the camera down and then up Clem’s legs.

‘OK, you win the “reason to wear ugly boots” argument.’ Clem grabbed a cup from above the kettle and rammed it under the spout of his coffee machine. While she waited for it to dispense, she looked around Nick at the eggs in the pan.

Nick’s mobile rang and Clem picked it up and waved it in his direction. ‘Your mother.’

Nick shook his head. ‘Let it go to message.’

Clem frowned. ‘You don’t take calls from your mother? Why not?’

‘I do take calls from her,’ Nick protested and, seeing her disbelieving look, shrugged. ‘Sometimes, OK … rarely. She’s …’

‘Mmm?’

Nick pushed the eggs around in the pan. ‘I have four siblings and everyone in my family is excitable and loud and feels the need to know the intimate details of my life.’

‘And you are reticent and reserved and independent.’

‘Sometimes living with them felt like I was living in a soap opera. Drama, drama, drama.’

Mdu bumped a chair and Nick grimaced, suddenly reminded of the cameras in the room. He sent Mdu a measured glance. ‘Erase that, please.’

Mdu nodded at the command in his voice. ‘Sure. No problem.’

Clem nodded at the stove. ‘Why are you cooking breakfast? Why aren’t we eating at the canteen?’

Nick stirred the eggs and put bread in the toaster. ‘No time. I need to get you to work at the animal sanctuary and then I have to get back to take a conference call about the ball.’

Clem perked up. ‘Ball? What ball?’

Nick took her cup from her hands, took a sip and asked her to make him one. As Clem reached for another cup, he filled her in. ‘It’s a fund-raising event for my foundation. My marketing company got a multinational to sponsor the event so all the money from ticket sales goes to the foundation. There’s also an auction at the end of it.’

‘When’s the ball?’

‘A few weeks’ time. Want to go?’

‘Seriously?’

Nick shrugged. ‘I should take a partner and you’re as good as any.’ He flashed a smile at her. ‘Being marginally attractive and all that.’

Clem’s fingers fluttered above her heart. ‘I don’t think I’ve had a more gracious invitation in my life. Thank you so much!’ she gushed.

Nick’s lips lifted. ‘Wiseass.’

He dished the eggs up onto plates. ‘On a related subject, Andy—one of my senior game rangers—is having his birthday party at The Pit tonight. He’s from America’s Mid-west and he’s determined to teach everyone line dancing. Do you line dance?’

‘I took dance lessons from the age of three to fifteen. There’s not much I can’t do,’ Clem replied as she put sugar into Nick’s cup of black coffee and stirred it for him. ‘Oh, that sounds like so much fun. Can we go?’

‘Thanks.’ Nick took the cup she held out, sipped and sighed with pleasure. ‘Well, you can, I need to eat up at the Lodge with the guests tonight. I’ll meet you at The Pit later.’

Clem grinned as she took Nick’s coffee cup to the dining table for him, while he handed Liam and Mdu their plates. ‘Woo-hoo. A party! And I cleaned The Pit yesterday so I know I don’t need a tetanus shot!’

Nick got to The Pit around eleven and the party was in full swing. He noticed that about a dozen dancers were doing something very complicated
on the far side of the room, which had been turned into a dance floor for the evening. He couldn’t see Clem and lifted his eyebrows at Jabu, who had his elbow on the bar and a beer in his hand.

‘Hey.’ Jabu lifted his bottle and signalled the bartender for another for Nick.

‘Hey back.’ Nick stood next to him and looked over the crowded bar. ‘Looks like a great party!’

‘Red and Hannah are in the middle of the action,’ Jabu replied and handed Nick the beer the bartender slid over the counter.

‘Where are they?’ Nick lifted his bottle to his mouth and stopped halfway. The two lines of dancers turned to face them and there she was, laughing with Jabu’s wife, Hannah. While Hannah was dressed in a denim skirt and T-shirt, Clem had taken the cowboy theme to the limit.

She was wearing another pair of short, short denim shorts, an open neck sleeveless white shirt that she’d tied under her breasts and cowboy boots.

God knew where she’d found the cowboy hat but, since anything was possible with Clem, she could have brought it with her in one of her numerous suitcases.

Nick took a deep sip of his beer and wasn’t thrilled to realize that every male eye in the bar was watching those legs, those swaying hips, toes and heels clicking, long legs flashing.

‘She’s been hitting the punch pretty hard,’ Jabu told him and Nick looked at him, horrified.

‘What punch?’

‘Andy made punch for the kids. After they left, he chucked in a bottle of vodka.’

Nick winced. ‘She doesn’t drink alcohol.’

Jabu looked horrified and Nick lifted a hand. ‘No, she’s not an alcoholic; she just doesn’t drink.’

‘Well, she’s been pouring the punch down her throat like it’s juice,’ Jabu told him as the song came to an end.

‘This is going to be interesting,’ Nick commented as Clem and Hannah walked towards them, arm in arm.

‘Nick! You’re here!’ Clem shouted and broke into an on-the-spot boogie.

Nick slanted a look at Jabu. ‘As I said. Interesting.’

‘Look at me! I’m dancing!’ Clem grinned and attempted to do a pirouette. Nick’s hand shot out and gripped her elbow and kept her from falling flat on her face.

‘I see that.’ Nick pulled her to his side and wrapped a hand around her waist.

Clem rested her head on his shoulder. ‘I love dancing and it’s one of the few things I’m really, really good at. I’m also good at knitting!’

Nick laughed. ‘Knitting?’

‘I took a course. I’ve taken lots of courses.’

‘Uh-huh.’ Nick sipped his beer and grinned at her squinting eyes. Keeping his firm hold on Clem, he reached forward to kiss Hannah. ‘Hey, gorgeous. Looking good out there.’

Hannah put her hand on his cheek and patted it. ‘Such fun. You two should try it.’

‘When I can snowboard in hell,’ Nick replied.

‘Hey!’ Clem protested and leaned back in his arm. Nick turned his head to look into her affronted face. ‘How come she gets a kiss and I don’t?’

‘Oh boy. How much of that punch did you drink, Red?’

‘Losth.’ Clem looked as if she was about to impart a huge secret. ‘I think there was something in it.’

Nick laughed. ‘You think?’

Clem dazzled him with one of her mega-watt smiles. ‘Nick, you still haven’t kissed me!’

‘Uh—’ Nick felt her hands reach up to squish his cheeks together. Fish face, he thought as she planted one on him before pulling back. She still held his face in her hands when she cocked her head and contemplated him with those amazing eyes. ‘I really like kissing you.’

He heard Jabu and Hannah’s smothered laughter and winced. ‘Clem, I think we need to get you home …’

‘He’s a great kisser,’ Clem told Hannah.

‘Good to know.’ Hannah’s dimples flashed. ‘I think that’s a great trait in a man.’

‘Nice hands, too.’

‘I wondered …’

‘Hey!’ Jabu mock complained, laughter in his voice. ‘What else, Clem?’

Nick glowered at his friends. ‘Stop encouraging her!’

Clem cocked her head but didn’t let go of his face. ‘I love your eyes … moonlight eyes.’

Nick shot Jabu and Hannah, a
Rescue me!
look but they both just smiled.

Nick pulled her hands down and held them loosely in his. He wiggled his jaw to get the blood back to his lips. ‘Thanks.’

The music on the stereo system changed, the volume increased and Clem shot out of his arms like a bullet. Nick watched as she headed straight for the dance floor and happily accepted, and downed, the glass of punch Andy held out to her. When it was finished, he took the glass from her, placed it on a table and hustled her into a complicated dance that involved him holding her tight against his chest and his jeaned leg sliding between hers.

Uh … no. That so wasn’t happening.

Nick slapped his half finished beer on the bar and walked over to the dance floor. Andy took one look at his face and, quickly reading the situation, allowed Clem to spin into his arms. He caught her and she grinned up at him.

‘You’re dancing with me!’ Clem cried.

‘You, Princess, are drunk. We’re going home.’

‘Don’t want to!’ Clem cried and shoved out her bottom lip. She tried to step away but Nick held her wrist in his hand.

Clem tried to pull her hand away. ‘Andy will dance with me if you won’t.’

‘Andy likes his job too much,’ Nick muttered. ‘We’re going home.’

‘Not!’

He was tired, dead sober and he didn’t feel like having a scene in front of his staff. He needed to get her out of The Pit in the quickest and cleanest way possible. Arguing with her wasn’t going to get him anywhere; Clem, he was learning, had the stubbornness of a mule.

So, quickest and easiest … Nick bent, grabbed Clem around the knees, lifted her and tossed her over his shoulder. Ignoring the catcalls and whistles and Clem’s squawking, he held her legs and walked out of The Pit.

At the door, Andy whipped the Stetson off her head and planted it back on his. ‘My hat. ‘Night, boss.’

Nick grinned as he tipped her into the passenger seat of his Landy. Well, he couldn’t say that he was bored.

‘Ow! Ow, ow, ow!’ Clem yelled as her bottom connected with the spring.

‘Come on, Red, let’s get you into bed.’

And I’m now a poet, Nick thought as he slid his arms under Clem’s still far too skinny frame and cradled her like a baby. At the door to his house, he rested her on his raised knee, flipped the door open and manoeuvred her down the passage.

‘You need some meat on your bones, Clementine,’ he muttered.

‘Don’t break my heart, my achy breaky heart …’ Clem sang into his neck and he grinned. She was off-key and squawky and couldn’t hold a tune to save her life.

Nick nudged her door open and walked her to the double bed, pulling back the covers and laying her on a cool sheet. She immediately rolled onto her side and cradled her pillow.

‘You can’t sleep in your cowboy boots, Red,’ Nick said, bending to yank off one boot and then the other, dropping them to the floor. He worked her socks off, cradling her pretty pale feet in his hard tanned hand.

‘Nick?’

‘Mmm?’ Nick sat on the side of her bed and pushed her hair off her cheek.

‘It’s been a long time since someone looked after me,’ Clem said softly. ‘It’s nice. Do I hear thunder?’

‘Storm’s on its way.’ Nick pushed her back as she tried to sit up. Clem put her head on the crisp pillow and reached for his hand. Nick allowed her to tangle her fingers in his.

‘I need to say something to you.’

‘OK.’

Clem’s thumb drifted over his knuckles in a gesture that was as arousing as it was tender. Nick licked his lips. He knew how to do seduction,
fast, hot sex, but he didn’t know how to handle tenderness.

‘When I arrived at Two-B, I acted like a brat.’

Nick tried to keep from smiling. Now there was an understatement. ‘I know. It’s OK.’

Clem shook her head. ‘No, that’s just part of what I want to say. I was a brat because I was scared. I always act badly when I’m scared. You scared me.’

‘I scared you?’ Nick asked, puzzled. That was the last thing he’d expected her to say.

‘Mmm. You, this land … your stupid Landy. It was all so different, so … alien. You were so offhand and unimpressed with me …’

Unimpressed? Was she mad? He’d felt as if he’d been flattened by a tornado. It had taken all his effort not to fall at her feet and whimper.

Thankfully, Clem had absolutely no idea of the power of her body, face and voice. Teamed with her sparky humour and a surprisingly big heart, she was enough to induce an emotional heart attack.

‘I didn’t know how to behave and I was so, so scared … Everything was changing and change is scary. And you know what else?’

Those eyes just killed him. Soft, affectionate, vulnerable. ‘What, sweetheart?’

‘I’m not so scared any more.’

‘Good girl.’ Nick pushed her hair behind her ear and raised her hand to kiss her knuckles, keeping his eyes lowered so that she didn’t see
the emotion in his. ‘There’s nothing to be scared of … Life has its way of working out.’

A drum roll of thunder had Clem bolting upwards and scuttling towards Nick. He gathered her into his arms and moved so that he was leaning against the leather headboard, Clem tucked into his side. Toeing his shoes off, he lifted his feet onto the bed. He heard lightning sizzle.

‘Thunder incoming,’ he warned and when the noise subsided he asked his question in the most matter of fact voice he could find. ‘Why do storms scare you, Clem?’

‘My mum died in a thunderstorm. She’d just picked me up from ballet and we were hit by a truck and we spun and spun and I remember catching glimpses of her face in the lightning, knowing that she was gone. When we stopped, there was this most enormous clap of thunder … and I just screamed and screamed …’