Praise for Natalie Anderson

‘Natalie Anderson is one of the most exciting voices in steamy romantic fiction writing today. Sassy, witty and emotional… an extraordinary new talent who can blend passion, drama, humour and emotion in one unforgettable read!’

—www.cataromance.com

‘Sizzling chemistry in the boardroom and well-developed characters make this a winner.’

—RT Book Reviews on

Hot Boss, Boardroom Mistress

‘This touching love-at-first-sight story is filled with heartfelt emotion, but the real treat is when the characters begin to open up to each other and reveal their secrets as attraction turns to love.’

—RT Book Reviews on

Pleasured by the Secret Millionaire

Also by Natalie Anderson

Caught on Camera with the CEO * Unbuttoned by her Maverick Boss* To Love, Honour and Disobey Hot Boss, Boardroom Mistress

*Hot Under the Collar duet

Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit

www.millsandboon.co.uk

About Natalie Anderson

Possibly the only librarian who got told off herself for talking too much, NATALIE ANDERSON decided writing books might be more fun than shelving them—and boy, is it that! Especially writing romance—it’s the realisation of a lifetime dream, kick-started by many an afternoon spent devouring Grandma’s Mills & Boon® books…

She lives in New Zealand, with her husband and four gorgeous-but-exhausting children. Swing by her website any time—she’d love to hear from you: www.natalie-anderson.com

Walk on the Wild Side

Natalie Anderson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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For Dave, for Kathleen, Henry, Sylvie & Evelyn, and for Mum.

It just wouldn’t ever happen without your patience, support and love.

CHAPTER ONE

ANOTHER red light. Kelsi Reid braked for the fortieth time, muttering beneath her breath as she reached for the comb she’d slung on the passenger seat.

Probably the rest of the clientele came to the salon looking as if they’d just walked out of another—like magazine models, all coiffed, perfumed and perfect. Kelsi hadn’t done her hair or make-up. She’d only had time to put in some contacts and wriggle her still-damp-from-the-shower body into her dress.

If only she hadn’t fallen asleep at her desk last night as she’d struggled to get all her work done to be able to take today off. If only she hadn’t woken up to find her hair trailing in the glass of super sticky, high-energy soda beside her. If only she hadn’t frothed the shampoo into such a mass of white bubbles that they’d taken an age to rinse out…

If only she didn’t have to go at all.

With the beginnings of a caffeine withdrawal headache, she’d hit every single red light on the way to Merivale—the poshest suburb in Christchurch—the home of L’Essence Spa, and the appointment she’d felt too guilty to be able to cancel.

If only she didn’t feel like such a fraud.

Her coworkers and boss had booked it for her. Paid for it. A combi birthday present/reward for working so hard. Lovely thought but the last thing she wanted. She hated mixing it with the beautiful women—because she was so not one of them. With her horrendous colouring combined with her short stature and the minimal curves that only just stopped her from looking completely boyish, she’d suffered years of taunts as a teen—the freak with the father who hadn’t wanted to bother with her either. Fabulous combination made all the more annoying given it had been he who’d donated the gross colour gene in the first place.

She’d got such an inadequacy thing going she’d actually let her old boyfriend take her to a hairdresser and then shopping afterwards so he could purchase her a whole new look—but she’d still not been pretty enough for him. Years later she still couldn’t believe she’d let a guy take control of her appearance like that.

In the end she’d rebelled—people thought she looked weird? She’d give them weird. She dressed differently—covering up her almost unnaturally pale skin, covering up her undersized assets, hiding her hair, her eyes, herself. If a man was going to want her, it would be for her mind, or her sense of humour, or fascinating personality or something.

Not that she’d had a date in ages. But she was too busy with work anyway. And it didn’t help that her coworkers—the only people she actually knew in this town—were in love with the girls with big guns and even bigger boobs who were the heroines of all the computer games they were so addicted to. In other words, not real.

Kelsi couldn’t compete with the living, breathing beauties of this world, let alone the male fantasy ones, so she didn’t even try.

But all her workmates—and all of them were male—had thought this was the sort of thing any woman would want—a day of beauty pampering. She knew they’d meant it kindly. They didn’t know about the guy who’d stood and watched every snip of the hairdresser’s scissors trying to shape her into something he thought was more attractive. Now she cut her hair herself.

Yet she hadn’t the heart to tell them she didn’t want it. She knew how exclusive and expensive that salon was, how well intentioned they’d been. And, hey, there were options other than haircuts and spray-tans—full body massage being the one that had really appealed. And a professional wax was always welcome.

So here she was. Going there. But even though she’d toned down her clothing for the day, she was still a misfit—with really knotty, home-dyed hair. And she was running late.

She drove the one hundred metres or so to the next set of traffic lights. They were annoyingly close together here in the middle of the city. And they were red again. Of course.

She lifted her arm and targeted the biggest mess of knots at the back of her head. The bird’s nest of unruly curls sprang into being any moment it was freed from the product she religiously used. She had a tube of it in her bag and she’d swipe some in as soon as she could get the comb clear through. But that was apparently impossible today. She bent her head forward and ruthlessly pulled on the comb, screwing her eyes shut as it hurt. Yeah, not good for the hair that was so temperamental anyway, but she had no choice. But as she gave an extra vicious tug her whole body jerked—including her foot, which had been pushing hard on the brake. It slipped right off the pedal. The car slid forward half a metre.

Right into the pedestrian crossing the road.

Kelsi heard the thump. She heard the cut off curse. She heard her own shriek.

She slammed her foot back on the brake and the car jerked. She gripped the steering wheel with both hands, for a split second frozen, shock riveting her to the seat.

The only thing moving was her stomach—rocking violently, its contents swirling round and round and about to be fired up. She flung open the door and tried to race out. The seat belt yanked her back and she banged her hand on the clasp as she fumbled to release it. Finally she got free, slamming the door and running to the front of her car, terrified about what she was going to see. She couldn’t feel her legs, couldn’t think, couldn’t bear it. Had she just killed someone?

‘Are you OK? Are you OK? Oh, God.’ She struggled to breathe. ‘Are you OK?’

‘I’m OK.’

It was a man and he was back to standing. Very tall in fact and definitely still alive because his eyes were open—and an incredibly vibrant blue—and he was breathing. Which was more than she was managing at the moment.

Horrified, she shook her head, unable to believe what had just happened. ‘I didn’t see you.’

‘The pedestrian light was green,’ he said dryly.

‘You just appeared out of nowhere. ’ Surely she should have seen him earlier? He was over six feet. Hell, if she’d missed him, had there been anyone else? Was there someone stuck under her car right now? She bent and looked under the wheels.

‘Your car is fine.’

‘I don’t care about that,’ she said as she frantically searched. ‘Was there just you? I didn’t hit anyone else?’

She craned her neck to look up at him again.

‘Just me.’

‘Oh, thank God. I mean…’ She gulped, her heart galloping faster. ‘…you’re really OK?’

‘Really OK. ’ He actually laughed. ‘Look, you want to move your car? You’re holding up the traffic.’

Dazed, she turned and looked at the line of cars behind hers. But most were now moving into the next lane to get around her. So that was OK. Besides, what did a little delayed traffic matter? This was an accident scene. She turned back to him. ‘Are you sure you’re OK?’ Her voice rose to a pitch usually only dogs could hear.

He pointed to the footpath. ‘Let’s talk there.’

Numbly she took a few steps, but stopped sharply, appalled when she saw him walk. ‘Oh, no, you’re limping. Why are you limping? Where did I get you? Where does it hurt?’

‘No, it’s just my knee, it’s—’

‘Your knee?’ Her voice rose another three octaves. ‘That’s where I got you? Oh, let me check. ’ She dropped to her haunches, reaching out to lift the hem of the long grey shorts he was wearing so she could inspect the damage. She half expected to see screeds of blood coursing down his shin. But there weren’t. Instead she was confronted with tanned, muscular calves. Her hand hovered, but the next second he’d stepped out of reach.

‘It’s fine. ’ His large hand encircled her upper arm and gently tugged her upwards.

Reluctantly she stood. ‘Are you sure?’ Had she knocked him right over? She didn’t even know. She shuddered as she relived that thudding sound. She’d never had a car accident. Never ever. And now she’d run someone over. ‘You don’t need a doctor? Please let me take you to the doctor. I think I should take you to a doctor.’

‘I don’t need a doctor,’ he said firmly. ‘But you’ve gone even paler.’

Her stomach heaved more violently as the reality sank in. She slapped her hand to her mouth. ‘I could have killed you.’

‘You could have. But you didn’t.’

She could have killed a child, though. Worst-case scenarios flooded her mind—if it had been a toddler walking next to its mother, or a woman with a pram… It was only luck that had made it a six-foot-however-many-inches giant of a man. And even then she’d hurt him. She stared up at him, her eyes blurring, puffing more than when she ran up the thousand stairs to get to her office on the top floor of the building. She’d hurt him…

Both his hands settled on her shoulders. Firmly. ‘It’s OK. It was nothing. ’ He smiled and nodded his head as he emphasised each word.

She swallowed. He really was OK? His grip on her was certainly strong and vital and brought her thoughts to a complete halt.

‘You were in a hurry to get somewhere?’ he asked.

‘What? Yes.’ She glanced at her watch and his hands dropped. ‘Oh. No.’ Way too late now.

‘Where?’

‘It doesn’t matter. It absolutely doesn’t matter. ’ And it didn’t. ‘Let me take you wherever you were going. ’ She turned and opened the passenger door and pushed him to get in. ‘I’m so sorry I hit you. And you’re limping—can I take you to a doctor?’

‘No.’

But she wasn’t listening. Instead she pushed him harder, wanting him to get into her car, determined to take him, just to make sure. But it was like trying to move a mountain—impossible. And this mountain wasn’t cold, it was warm and broad and very, very solid. Not to mention broad—had she registered that already? She slid her palms wider across the inviting breadth, felt the solidness go even more taut—the powerful muscles suddenly snapped with energy.

His flinch brought her back to reality. OMG she had her hands all over his chest.

‘Sorry. ’ Totally flustered she looked up, her gaze instantly caught and locked by his. His eyes were brilliant sky-blue and his smile shone like the brightest sun. Reality vanished again as in a heartbeat she was lost in the gleaming warm intensity. Heavenly blue, most definitely heavenly. She couldn’t blink, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think of anything but summer warmth and fun and absolute dreaminess…

She blinked. This was insane. She’d almost run him over—what was she doing staring at him as if she’d never seen a man before?

Well, she hadn’t, at least not one as built as this. Not ever. The only men she saw were those at work and they were all either weedy or obese. Sure, it was a stereotype, but in Kelsi’s world it was actually true—computer geek guys were not gorgeous.

This man before her was most definitely not a computer geek. He had to spend serious hours outside to get both a tan like that and muscles like those, not to mention the sun-lightened streaks at the front of his dark brown hair. Hair that hung over his forehead in a casual style begging to be brushed back by her itchy fingers.

He was all utterly natural gorgeousness. But perhaps not, perhaps it was her contacts making him seem so vibrant. What colour tint had she put in today? She couldn’t remember. Had one of them slipped? She blinked again. Tried to marshal her far-flung-on-the-breeze thoughts.

‘Tell you what, why don’t I drive you?’ The question was asked so gently she wasn’t sure if he’d actually said it or if she was dreaming.

‘Pardon?’ She shivered.

His hand lifted to her shoulder again, his thumb stroked her skin, a slow sweep and what she thought he’d just said fled from her head. She shivered again—but she certainly wasn’t cold.

‘I’m going to drive,’ he said very slowly.

He was what? All she knew was that he was smiling and the world was technicolor.

‘Come on.’

He seemed to be trying to calm her down. She didn’t need calming down—she was fine, right? But she was moving, being guided into her own passenger seat by the warm, firm hand on her lower back.

She sat.

‘Um. ’ No point arguing now. He’d shut the door and was walking to the driver’s side. She winced as she saw his limp again. This was crazy—she needed to get a grip on herself and apologise once more. She needed to be helping him, not the other way round.

As soon as he got in she asked him, ‘Are you sure you’re OK to drive?’

There was a half-laugh in reply. It was a nice laugh—low and very, very amused. ‘What’s your name?’

Kelsi stared at him, the echo of the laugh reverberating through the small space. He looked ridiculous in her car, his knees almost up to his ears. That was because the driver’s seat was pushed as far forward as it could go so her feet could reach the pedals. He pushed the seat back to the limit, but even so. The size of him was overwhelming. And he’d said something, hadn’t he? Because he was staring back at her expectant-like.

‘Sorry?’ Her brain had gone far, far offshore into the wide blue yonder.

‘Your name?’ He leaned across her seat, his torso coming in ultraclose. In a second that strong, broad chest almost touched hers. The action totally struck her dumb—not to mention rendered her immobile. Her body tightened, but not from fear. Oh, no, not fear. This close she could see his symmetrical face, with the hint of shadow on the angular jaw, the gleaming white teeth. She could even feel his heat and he smelt crisp and fresh. She held her breath as he came even closer—was he about to kiss her? Was she going to let this complete stranger kiss her? Mesmerised, she stared into his eyes, his smiling, promise-of-paradise eyes…

Why, yes. Of course she was. There was absolutely no other option she could think of. She couldn’t think at all.

But there was a noise right by her ear. Oh. Disappointment crushed as he pulled the seat belt across her body, carefully clicking it into place. Of course he wasn’t going to kiss her. Guys like him could kiss a bevy of beauties. He’d never think to kiss her. Oh, but how she’d wanted him to.

Limply she sagged back against the seat. Man, she needed to get a grip. But in the thin summer dress she was wearing, her body had gone all goose-bumpy.

He started the engine and after a moment she peeled her gaze from his big hands on the wheel to watch where they were going. He turned right when she would have gone straight ahead. But it didn’t matter.

‘Miss?’

Miss? She’d never been called ‘miss’ by anyone. ‘Kelsi. ’ She finally clued in to what he’d been asking.

‘Kelsi, I’m Jack.’

‘Hi,’ she said vaguely, her brain going AWOL again as she looked at him. Ruthlessly she tried to drag it back to full-attention mode. Kelsi loved surrealist art, but she wasn’t sure she was ready for her life to go totally surreal. And having a guy like this driving her who knew where, was definitely surreal.

He laughed again and a dimple creased his jaw giving him a very cheeky look. ‘I think you need some recovery time.’

‘I’m so sorry.’ She sighed and made herself look just slightly to the left of him—so she could try to keep her thoughts on track. He was right. She did need to recover, but not over the accident. It was his gorgeousness and his proximity that were screwing up her thought processes now. ‘Are you sure you’re OK?’

He lifted one hand from the wheel, holding it up in the ’stop’ sign. ‘Don’t start that again. Please.’

‘Right.’ She nodded. Yeah. She’d hardly been cool, calm and collected. Not at all the kind of person you’d want to be in an emergency. She’d been a jibbering mess.

‘I know a café that does fantastic coffee,’ he said. ‘Let’s get some, OK?’

Coffee. That was her problem. She hadn’t had her hit this morning. That was why she was feeling both so wired and wobbly now—not the accident, not him.

He pulled into a car park and killed the engine.

‘You can’t park here, it’s reserved.’ Customer only spaces for the snow’n’skate-wear store—the signs were everywhere.

He didn’t even glance at them. ‘They won’t mind.’

He was Mr Laid-back wasn’t he? Did he take everything in his stride—literally in his stride—like being hit by however many tonnes of metal car? He grinned and pocketed her keys as he limped onto the footpath beside her. She tried not to stare but the guilt seized her. Then his hand seized her upper arm even more firmly and he swung her round, walking her into the doorway of the cool café.

‘Sit.’ He stopped at the closest table. ‘I’m getting you a coffee.’

Kelsi plopped into the chair and put her elbow on the table, closing her eyes as she rested her head in her hand. ‘A black coffee would be fantastic.’ Coffee would kick her back together—because this brainless behaviour could no longer be her.

Jack paused and looked at the paler-than-pale petite woman in front of him. You’d think she’d been the one hit by the car, not him. Truth be told he’d hardly been touched, had thumped his fist on the bonnet and dodged to avoid it. But doing that had wrenched his weak knee—hence the worsening of the limp. The surgery had been a couple of weeks ago, but right now it felt as if it had been yesterday.

He walked to the counter, trying to stretch out the soreness the sudden movement had caused, hoping it wasn’t going to set his progress back. He was desperate to get training again.

He ordered from Viv, the barista, but she had his half made already and it took nothing for her to make another. So in seconds he was heading back to the dangerous driver, two steaming cups in hand. Beneath his breath he chuckled as he looked at her slim back and the wild mess that was her hair—she had no idea, did she?

He put the drinks on the table, ripped open three sachets of sugar and tipped them into the first cup. He stirred the liquid round a bit with a spoon and then pushed the cup towards her.

‘I don’t take sugar.’ A weak smile as she slumped against the back of the seat.

‘You do today.’ Strong, hot and sweet. It was exactly what she needed.

He watched while she took a sip—one, then a much bigger gulp. Then she exhaled.

‘Better?’ He couldn’t help laughing.

‘Much.’

Yeah, her crazy-coloured eyes were focused now, and she sat up straight. That was also good because when she’d been flopped back like that, the thin strap of her dress had slipped. He’d seen the lacy edging of a pretty black bra and he shouldn’t be thinking about sex this second. But he was—and had been the last six hundred seconds, or so. Ever since he’d first laid eyes on her.

Not appropriate. That wasn’t why he’d insisted on getting her a coffee. No, he’d done that because he wanted to let her know she hadn’t done any damage. He’d seen the guilt on her face as he’d walked towards her—she thought she’d done that to his knee. He needed to relieve her of that burden because, despite her alternative, all-black, all-attitude couture, she was the type to have nightmares about it for weeks. A little bit of sweetness wrapped up in ‘wannabe different’ city slicker sophistication.

But first, there was something else he had to tend to. He stood, barely resisting the urge to laugh again, and walked round the table. She stiffened as he touched her.

‘Easy,’ he murmured. ‘You’ll make it worse.’

The comb was well and truly caught—knotted in the mass of curls at the back of her head. She hadn’t realised, of course, and he heard her gasp as she did now. Amusement washed over him and he wanted to make her laugh about it, too. Except she was too busy blushing. Seeing the colour in her cheeks was good, hearing her breathing quicken was even better. So he affected her?

Excellent. Because he was still suffering from a severe lust attack. He tried to concentrate on the tangled bit of plastic but up this close he found out her hair was extremely curly and shockingly blonde and also soft and smelt flower sweet. Like her eyes, the colour was fake, but her natural shade must be reasonably light because there wasn’t any darkness showing at the roots. Or maybe she’d just had it done. Jack was used to blondes and their high-maintenance hair, but he’d never seen blonde as snow white as this. Or as messy.

He swallowed, his mouth dry, as he bent closer to free her hair from the comb without hurting her. Her scent was all he could taste. She turned him on as if he hadn’t been turned on in a long while—and Jack was no stranger to sex.

Well, not usually. The knee op had put paid to any and all kinds of fun for a while—both on the snow and in the bedroom. That must be the reason for this intense reaction to this woman, right? Because petite pieces of fragility like her didn’t usually do it for him. He was into strong, athletic women who could match his needs, not slim things who looked as if they’d blow over in a light wind.

And he definitely wasn’t into overly emotional women. No to neediness, thanks very much—his lifestyle didn’t let him offer much to anyone, certainly not much in the way of emotional support. But when he’d seen the softness of her soul in those moments when she’d thought she’d hurt him, that womanly sweetness had been achingly tempting—the blinking back of the tears and the trembling lips. Yeah, her lips. Their crushed-rose colour—unlike so much else of her—was natural. Neither a glossy nor matte finish adorned them. They were full and deep and inviting all on their own.

He’d badly wanted to kiss her feelings better.

He wanted to do more than kiss her now. He was imagining scooping her up in his arms—it’d be so easy, and so delightful to nibble on the delicacies hidden under that to-the-floor, funeral-march-style dress.

He was in for an even longer spell of abstinence. That was the problem. Knowing he had another four weeks ahead of him with no chance of getting any had put sex at the forefront of his brain. That was why he was struggling to control his body in the middle of a busy café. That was why he was attracted to a woman as wrong a playmate for him as a piranha was as wrong a tank buddy for an angelfish.

Carefully he worked the comb free. It took longer than he’d thought it would but he didn’t mind. He hadn’t known he had a touch of the masochist in him. That he’d like the torture of his fingers brushing accidentally against her and not touching how he really wanted to. He throbbed with the temptation to run his fingers right through and muss up her hair even more. Yeah, the upcoming physical rehab session was making him wild-dog horny. He gritted his teeth and tried to concentrate on the job, not on the urges thudding through his blood.

Impossible. Pale, soft, striking, she sat like a statue before him, her embarrassment radiating out. But there was more to the heat, wasn’t there?

Jack was used to being wanted. He enjoyed being wanted—to be pleased and to please. So he knew the signs. Sometimes he ignored them, sometimes he didn’t.

But now his knee had stopped its death-pain throbbing, he knew he was going to succumb to the most debilitating bout of temptation he’d ever experienced. Even though it was probably inappropriate, he couldn’t resist. He liked the unexpected. He liked a challenge. He liked to live on the edge.

So what if he had less than twenty-four hours? So what if he should be in some boring meeting? That made it all the more delicious. Jack Greene knew how to make the most of every minute.

CHAPTER TWO

KELSI just couldn’t look Jack in the eye as he waved the comb in front of her before placing it on the table. She barely mumbled her thanks as he sat back down in the chair opposite her.

So she was too late for her appointment at the super spa. So she’d had a lime-green comb caught in the back of her hair. So she’d run over a prime piece of male. So she’d nearly hyperventilated when that prime piece had stood so close and so carefully got that comb out and all she’d been able to think about was how tall he was and how gentle, despite the way he was built…

So now she really wanted to leave. Except she had almost run him over, and, instead of her making it up to him, he’d driven her to a nice café, bought her coffee and encouraged her to relax. So she couldn’t skip out on him. She had to stay—just to be polite, right? Her internal debate was pointless anyway—he still had her car keys.

She looked at him and fell apart inside again. The gleam in his eyes was even brighter now and he definitely gave her the complete once-over, and did he linger on her lips? Kelsi fought against her immediate instinct to run her tongue over them—she was not going to be so obvious. Not, not, not. Especially because he was so gorgeous. Without doubt he was used to having some kind of mesmerising effect on females because that confident, cheeky smile was spreading over his face.

Instead of licking her lips she took another sip of coffee. The warmth braced her and sent the last of the cold, sick feeling from the accident packing. As she swallowed, her brain clicked back to fully functioning—finally.

She figured if she didn’t look him in the eye she could maybe keep her brain working. But looking at his body wasn’t that much better. Mentally she tried to box him up so she could put him away—but he needed one that she didn’t have in the ‘overwhelming male’ compartment of her brain. He was a bit too big and fit and breathtaking…

She inhaled deeply, determined to make a polite, hopefully sane, effort. She totally owed him that. He flashed the ultracharm smile again but she was smart and looked at her coffee cup instead. Only another mouthful and it’d be finished. Then she could go.

‘So, what were you late for?’ he asked as she lifted the cup.

She lowered it, feeling the heat rising in her cheeks. ‘Nothing.’

His brows lifted. ‘Not nothing. Tell me.’

OK, so now he was going to think she was a total sad ditz. ‘A spa treatment.’

‘A what?’ he asked, sounding a little too confused.

Kelsi was sure he’d heard but he was just making her say it again because she was so flushed. Pointlessly, she tried to smooth her hair behind her ear.

‘A spa,’ she said, determined to speak clearly. ‘You know, a day treatment at a beauty parlour.’ Not just any parlour, the most exclusive salon in town. They obviously thought she really needed it—this guy probably did, too.

‘And what were you having done?’

‘Facial, massage, hair.’ She shrugged and lifted the cup to her mouth.

‘Cut or wax?’

She nearly choked on the coffee. ‘Cut.’ She tried to lie like a pro but she knew her colour had risen higher. The nerve of him.

He was grinning wildly now. Openly laughing at her plans for the day and stupidly she felt the need to justify it—even when it hadn’t been her idea. ‘I haven’t had a day off in four months. My boss said I needed to recharge my batteries.’

‘A beauty salon wouldn’t be the place to do that.’

No. She’d have picked an art gallery. Preferably one in Paris. One day she’d get to do the travel thing—once she had her career established.

‘What about some fresh air? A walk somewhere nice? Wouldn’t that be more of a boost?’

Of course he would be the outdoor sports guy—the sport billy, with a practically-kill-yourself-climbing-a-mountain-to-feel-good approach to life. She couldn’t think of anything worse. She just wanted to relax—and rest. ‘Fresh air isn’t good for my skin,’ she said with a helpless gesture.

‘No?’

Was the man blind? She was practically albino. Well, not really—the hundreds of freckles proved her pigment worked all right. She felt her flush deepen. ‘I burn really easily.’

‘You could wear a hat,’ he drawled.

She opened her eyes ingénue wide and batted her lashes as she drawled right back at him, ‘And ruin my hair?’

His gaze rested on the tangle and then sliced into hers again. A split second of solemnity froze them both.

And then they laughed—simultaneously, genuinely. She shook her head at her lame little joke. But the amusement warmed her veins better than the energising coffee she’d just swallowed.

‘Tell you what, Ms Spa Treatment, seeing you’ve lost your day at the salon, let me take you out instead. We’ll see how much better you feel after some fresh air.’

She met the inviting blue pools that were his eyes and couldn’t ignore the tingling sensation spreading over her skin. Had she bumped her head in that accident and not realised? Because she was thinking all kinds of weird thoughts now—such as that this guy might actually be hitting on her. And that just couldn’t be possible. ‘Um…’

‘Come on, come and have some fun.’

‘It isn’t fun outdoors.’

‘You’re afraid.’ The smallest hint of provocation sharpened his gaze.

No,’ she denied, ‘I’m just not.’ Believing this guy had just asked her out. ‘Interested.’

‘Really?’ His voice dropped to a whisper. ‘Not even a little bit?’

She swallowed. He knew he was gorgeous, didn’t he? But before she could think up even a vaguely suitable reply, he tweaked her nerves that bit harder.

‘You don’t like a challenge?’

‘You’re seriously suggesting that a day outdoors would be better than a day at a spa.’ She finally managed to answer, amazed her voice didn’t break like a teen boy’s.

‘A million times better.’

‘That’s quite some promise.’ She sipped the last drop of her coffee and wrinkled her nose as she got the bitter bits.

‘You’re going to take me up on it?’

She avoided his eyes as she thought about it. Really, it was a no-brainer. She couldn’t bear the thought of going to the spa and apologising for her tardiness now. And she couldn’t go to work. As the only female designer, Kelsi felt a certain pressure to do better than the boys, but working extreme hours on a deadline had left her jaded and in need of a break—something her boss had noticed, hence the spa thing. She couldn’t let them know she hadn’t showed up.

And what else would she do? She’d been working so hard since moving here she hadn’t had time to build a huge social life out of work. Honestly, she hadn’t built much of a social life at work either—her new computerboy colleagues were all into gaming and she wasn’t. That pretty much ended it. But she was quite sure Jack didn’t have social life issues. He was in a whole other league altogether—handsome, charming, bound to be a player. ‘You don’t have anything better to do?’

‘Not right now. No.’

Her body was the ice cream, temptation the raspberry ripple—churning right through and flavouring every bit of herself. ‘What’s in it for you?’

‘The pleasure of seeing you cross over to the light side.’

‘The outdoor appreciation society, you mean?’

‘We might need to get something better for you to wear, though.’ His gaze narrowed.

She stiffened—was he about to tell her what she should wear?

‘I thought girls were over the Goth phase by the time they hit their twenties.’ He smiled, skewering her on two fronts—with his gleaming expression and teasing words.

But Kelsi’s swift flash of anger got doused by that expression. If her instincts were on track, he didn’t think her outfit was all that ugly.

‘I’m not Goth,’ she said, feeling his eyes burning through her—making her body respond in a far too physical way.

‘Emo then. The whole vampire thing, isn’t it?’ he asked softly. ‘Pale skin and weird-coloured eyes and loose dark clothes.’

Kelsi clasped her hands together in front of her body, hiding the tightness of her nerves—and nipples. ‘I am not on the vampire bandwagon. I change my hair and eye colour all the time. And the pale skin I can’t help.’ The loose dark clothing accusation she had to admit to—but she had reason. ‘Covering up protects it from the sun.’

She watched him look her over once more and half wished she were wearing her usual ten layers or so instead of just the one long dress. In fact, its spaghetti straps and thin, clinging fabric meant she was far more exposed than usual.

‘See, you are a vampire.’ He grinned suddenly, wickedly. ‘Concealing yourself.’

‘I’m revealing myself.’ She laughed at his ridiculousness. ‘It’s self-expression. I work in a creative industry.’

‘What, so you have to look as way out as possible? With dyed hair and unnatural eyes?’ He leant forward, penetrating. ‘What’s their real colour anyway?’

She flexed her fingers, moving to disperse some energy. ‘Nothing exciting.’

‘No?’

‘Some people accessorise with handbags or shoes or both. I accessorise with eye colour or pattern.’

‘Pattern?’ His brows shot up. ‘Patterns on your eyes?’

‘Sure.’ She had the most fabulous collection of freaky contacts. Shopping on the internet was a temptation to which she frequently succumbed.

‘Why?’

‘Why not?’ It was different. It wasn’t the typical beautiful babe thing—she wasn’t ever going to be pretty or beautiful. She couldn’t compete with that—but she could do quirky. She could do defence.

‘You’re like an inverse chameleon. You hope people won’t see past the surface?’ He nailed her just like that. He finished his coffee and stood. ‘Come on, then, so long as you’re sure you’re not going to eviscerate if you go into the sunshine, let’s get out of here.’

It wasn’t the sun that threatened to eviscerate her. It was his burning focus.

On the footpath outside he tossed the car keys at her. ‘I just need to get something. Be a minute.’

She caught the keys and watched him walk unevenly across the road into the snow’n’skate store.

This was her opportunity to escape him—to get in the car and put her foot on the accelerator to the spa and apologise for lateness. But as if she was going to do that—she hadn’t wanted to go there anyway. And as if she was going to pass up an opportunity to spend some time with a good-humoured guy who looked as if he’d just stepped out of a sportswear catalogue?

She might be different, but she wasn’t crazy.

She got into the car and scooted the driver’s seat forward again so her feet could reach the pedals. He was back in a minute as he’d said, clutching an uber-hip recyclable shopping bag with the store’s logo.

‘You have friends in there?’

He just winked, chucking the bag on the back seat and fixing the legroom in the passenger seat. ‘You sure you’re OK to drive?’

With a flourish she curled her fingers round the steering wheel. ‘I’m fine.’

He leaned close. ‘No more urgent grooming matters to attend to?’ His voice was the auditory equivalent of chocolate sauce—warm and smooth and ready for a berry to be dipped in it.

‘I think the pedestrian population is safe now,’ she muttered, trying to get her pulse to stop its rapid acceleration.

‘Great. Then take the first left.’

She did exactly that and in only a hundred metres or so had to stop—a red light. Naturally. But as she paused he leaned across her seat, reaching his long arm down between her legs.

‘What are you doing?’ she gasped. ‘I’m trying to drive.’ She lifted both hands from the wheel, undecided if she should throttle him—his head was basically in her lap!

‘Stop it.’ Actually she didn’t mean that. She was thinking all kinds of things she shouldn’t be, what with seeing his dark head hovering just above her thigh like that.

Not wriggling was really difficult. So was not crashing the car. ‘We’re at a red light. I’m trying to concentrate.’

And that was so impossible right now. He moved his hand, his shoulder rubbed against her thigh as he jerked on the handbrake between them. Then he went south again—deep south. His hand encircled her ankle, lifted it for a half second as he slipped her shoe off.

‘Jack! ’ Another totally girly gasp.

He sat back, a smile of success creasing every feature, as her shoe sat in the palm of his hand. ‘You can’t drive safely wearing these. You can’t do anything safely wearing these.’

‘I can and do,’ she said breathlessly. ‘If you were as short as me, and plainly you’re not, then you’d understand. As it is, you can’t possibly get it.’

‘I just want to get there in one piece.’

She blew out a big shot of air and finally realised she had to take the brake off as the car behind tooted impatiently. Irritatingly, it was easier to drive barefoot—but she wasn’t going to admit it to him. ‘That was really dangerous.’

‘No more dangerous than you combing your hair at a red light. At least this time you had your handbrake on.’

‘Where are we going anyway?’ She chose to change the subject.

‘Straight ahead for now.’ He gave her a sideways look that was full of a charming smile. ‘Are you OK driving on the hills?’

‘Stop trying to get into the driver’s seat. I’m fine with hills.’ She bit the inside of her cheek. OK, so she wasn’t that fine with them, but damned if she was going to let him know that.

‘There are a few hairpin corners. I can take over if you want.’

In response she trod harder on the accelerator. In only a few minutes they were heading up the hill out of town towards the peninsula that curved out from the mainland. The hills were barren and brown—no trees or scrub covering them, just tussock that leaned away from the wind. Against the bright blue sky the hills were majestic. She liked their stark smoothness and the contrast against the clear sky and blue water. But then came one of those hairpin turns.

‘You want the air conditioning on?’

So he’d noticed she was sweating.

‘It doesn’t work.’ One of the many idiosyncrasies of the car that one day she’d get fixed.

‘You should walk in town anyway.’

She sent him a look.

‘Carbon footprint,’ he said mock piously.

‘My heels don’t leave much of a footprint anyway.’

He laughed and didn’t talk more, didn’t need to direct as there was only the one road to follow. And she needed to concentrate and not be further distracted by the giant hunk of man making her car feel like a matchbox toy. But after the worst hill bit she began to relax into it, able to take in the expansive view of bronze earth and blue sky and sparkling water. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was nice—as if they were leaving all the clutter and noise of city life behind them.

‘So why do your batteries need recharging, Kelsi? What do you do that’s made you so worn out?’

‘Computers,’ she said. ‘Website design.’

‘You sit in front of a screen all day?’

‘And you want to know the shocking thing?’ She grinned and touched the accelerator with a heavier tread. ‘I like it.’

He shook his head. ‘Crazy.’

He told her to take the left when the road forked. The gravel road dipped, leading down to sea level. And then it ended. She pulled in, parking beneath one of the few trees around. She stepped out of the car, uncomfortably hobbling on the one shoe. He got the bag off the back seat and pulled something from it.

‘What is that?’ She stared at it.

He twirled it on his finger and grinned outrageously. ‘It isn’t obvious?’

‘And you think I’m going to wear it?’

‘The store didn’t stock sunscreen. And I’m betting you don’t have any in that uselessly small bag of yours.’

No, she didn’t. Because she always, always, always stayed in the shade. Resigned, she took the wide-brimmed monstrosity of a hat from him and slapped it on her head.

‘I have a wrap for your shoulders, too.’

She took the long stretch of cloth and reminded herself to avoid looking in his eyes. They made her want to smile too much. And they were filled with a fire she longed to feel on her flesh. Crazy—she definitely needed a day to recharge.

‘I had the feeling you’d like the colour.’

It was jet black. Like every item of clothing she already had on.

‘How astute of you.’ She wrapped it around her shoulders and walked a few paces. Then she stopped. ‘How am I supposed to walk on this?’

‘Maybe you should take your other shoe off. Get your feet wet.’

‘Get my feet dirty, you mean.’ She looked at the sand and barely suppressed a shudder. ‘I hate the beach. All the little biting insects come to get me. You can see them circling overhead, ready to dive-bomb and sink their teeth in.’

‘You must have sweet blood.’

‘Now who’s the one sounding like a vampire?’ She had to send him an arch look. ‘I don’t like sand either. It sticks everywhere and my skin gets itchy.’

‘Guess we won’t be rolling in the waves, then, huh?’

‘Pardon?’ She stopped walking.

‘Surfing,’ he explained, the twinkle gleaming brighter in his eyes. ‘You don’t want to surf? I know where I can get a couple of wetsuits.’

‘I don’t surf and I definitely don’t wear wetsuits.’ She shuddered even more obviously.

He laughed. ‘Next you’ll be telling me you don’t even swim in the sea.’

‘Never,’ she admitted with embarrassment. ‘I’d rather be in a private pool.’

‘With all those chemicals?’

OK, so she knew she was pathetic. But she couldn’t resist sparring with him a little. ‘Isn’t the sea more polluted?’

‘Not this bit of beach.’

She put her hand to her heart in drama academy style. ‘But there might be sharks.’

‘Or friendly dolphins.’

‘Jellyfish.’ She fluttered her fingers in his face.

‘Starfish and shells to admire.’ He caught her hands and held them still in front of him, smiling widely. ‘Face it, you can’t win on this. Nature might bring its dangers, but its beauty makes them worth the risk.’

Kelsi couldn’t think of another argument—too distracted by the marvel of nature right in front of her. What with the sea/sky-blue eyes and the slightly shaggy dark hair and the golden skin, he was quite the gorgeous surfie type. Easygoing and relaxed in nature but with no fat, just pure, lean muscle in his body—she could feel his potential strength even from the light grip he had on her.

Anticipation licked through her. She hadn’t been in the company of anyone so attractive in a long, long time. OK, ever.

Pure guy candy.

She suddenly realised she was breathless—almost panting—and they hadn’t even begun the slight climb over the sand dune down to the water. She pulled her hands free of his and made herself stop visually feasting on him. It was a wonder she wasn’t drooling. She knew she was blushing so she made a show of looking around so he couldn’t see the stain rising on her cheeks.

There wasn’t another car in the car park, and not another soul on the small curve of beach. No boats in the distance on the horizon. They could have been the only two people on all the earth for all she knew.

It was a surprisingly liberating thought.

When she turned back he kicked off his shoes and pointedly stared at the one left on her foot. She sighed but removed the darn thing, ignoring how nice the soft, warm sand felt as her toes sank into it.

This was crazy. Totally crazy. She was at a remote beach with a complete stranger. She was in the sun.

But it was heavenly.

She glanced at him as he strolled easily beside her. His limp was almost imperceptible now—thank goodness. But he was grinning like a wolf who knew everything.

‘What?’ She pulled herself together and tried to recover her wits.

He laughed then and she knew it was too late—she was already succumbing to the power of the environment. Even though she knew the sand flies were lining up preparing their attack, even though she could already feel the burning power of the sun. What did it matter when her lungs could fill and stretch with fresh, clean air? What did it matter when she was accompanied by a guy who was like a summer sprite—full of fun and sun and sexiness?

The hard ball of stress wedged just above her stomach softened. The office was miles away, computers miles away, pressure miles away. Instead there was just the beautiful blue of the sea and the sky stretching as far as she could see. And the warmth under her feet and on her skin thawed the cold inside her, too.

She walked to the edge of the water, aware that a metre or so away he’d taken a few steps into it so the waves lapped over his ankles. She turned away from him, gazing at the bronze hills behind them and then back to the deep blue but, all the while, so incredibly aware of the picture of male beauty he made. She walked alongside the edge, listening to the gentle splashes his feet made as he walked two paces to the side and behind her.

‘So what’s your favourite season, then?’ he asked suddenly. ‘Winter, right?’

‘Yes.’ She grinned at her own predictability.

‘Mine, too.’

‘No way.’ Surprised, she turned and walked backwards to look at him.

‘Yeah.’ He nodded. ‘I spend my life chasing winter.’

She frowned. ‘But you’re so tanned.’

He laughed. ‘Because I’m here for the summer recovering. ’ He bent and rubbed his hand over his knee. ‘This is an old injury—you didn’t do that with the car before.’

‘Really?’

‘I had an operation a couple weeks ago. I’m about to go for a rehab stint in Canada. Get back into training.’

‘Training for what?’

He grinned a little sheepishly. ‘I snowboard.’

She stopped walking altogether. ‘For a living?’

‘Professional snowboarder. Yes.’

‘Seriously?’ Wow. No wonder he looked so fit. She had to stifle a giggle. She’d never got this close to a professional athlete before. ‘So.’ She coughed. ‘You’re training for the Olympics?’

‘The Olympics aren’t for a couple more years, there’s some other big comps before then but, yes, the Olympics are on the horizon.’

He really was serious? ‘Have you been to other Olympics?’

He grinned. OMG he had.

‘I went as a demonstration last time but at the next Olympics mine is an official event. The first gold is coming home with me,’ he said. The grin had gone—now he was utterly, utterly serious.

And, oh, my, she believed him. ’So you go from season to season—here to Canada?’

‘Or France, China.’ He nodded. ‘Wherever has the best snow.’

‘And you work on the ski field or have sponsors or something?’

Surprise flashed in his eyes for a second. She didn’t mean to embarrass him, but she didn’t think professional snowboarders would get paid all that much. It wasn’t exactly football and on the front page all the time.

‘Uh, something like that.’ He nodded. ‘You ever snowboarded?’

She shook her head and turned back to walk along the shoreline.

‘Skied?’

‘No.’

‘But I thought you liked winter.’

‘I do.’ She wrapped her arms around her waist. ‘I like curling up in front of a fire.’

‘That’s what you do after the day on the slopes.’

She mock shuddered again.

‘You should try it some time.’ His amusement warmed his words. ‘You’ll see I’m right. Like I’m right about this.’

She heard a big splash and turned in time to see him kick again—sending a spray of water up, splashing the hem of her dress.

‘It’s not so hard, is it?’ he asked.

‘What?’ She looked at him, the heat deep in her belly bubbling now.

‘Admitting defeat.’

She moved towards him, unthinkingly taking a step into the water. It wasn’t as cold as she’d expected. So she took another.

Tanned, relaxed, utterly at home, he smiled at her. All confident. All successful. All gorgeous.

And interested. She couldn’t believe it but there was no way she was misinterpreting the wickedness in his smile. No man had ever looked at her with such obvious attraction. Never a man as gorgeous as him.

It was intoxicating—making her feel powerful and beautiful and bolder than she’d ever been in her life. All of a sudden super-vixen urges surged high. Crazy, wanton, wild feelings. And in the madness of the midday sun she let them all out.

‘You’ve made me wet,’ she said. Her gaze locked to his, she let him see her willingness. ‘But if you’re going to do that, you could at least do it properly.’

His brows lifted and the splashes sounded less gentle as he walked closer. His eyes sparkled more blindingly than the reflection of the sun on the water and his smile softened to intimate. His voice was on the same wave—wonderful. ‘How wet do you want to get?’

Excitement shot through her, stiffening every muscle. She tilted her head back so she could keep the eye contact as he came right into her space. ‘How wet can you make me?’

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