Walk on the Wild Side Read online

  Now that really was insane. She swallowed, trying to get a grip on her pulse as they walked beneath the stand of trees where her car was parked. But it was all she could think of—she wanted him to kiss her again, she wanted him to do everything again. Dear heaven, she wanted to do it all and more to him. The crazy lust overwhelmed her again. She stumbled. His hand shot out and he grabbed her wrist, helping her regain her balance.

  ‘Kelsi?’ He pulled, gently drawing her close to him.

  She stared up at him, overwhelmed by the chaos of emotions running through her body. She’d never had a sensual experience like that before. She’d never felt revered or wanted or as desirable as that. She’d never felt as at one with another—so in sync, so comfortable. She’d never come with a man like that before.

  And she was so grateful she was near to tears.

  Jack lifted her up so he could kiss her again. Pushing down the growl of frustration that threatened to emerge from his mouth as if he were some bear just out of hibernation and lethally hungry. He was shaking with starvation now—but they couldn’t do it again.

  Damn.

  She trembled as he put her on the bonnet of her car; he felt the answering spasm in his muscles and clutched her even closer.

  ‘I only had the one condom.’ He groaned, forcing himself to cling to reality. ‘Kids aren’t part of my plan.’

  ‘No,’ she muttered.

  ‘We have to stop.’

  ‘Mmm…’ Her hands skated across his chest.

  He grabbed them between his, holding them firm. ‘Not helping, Kelsi.’

  But he couldn’t not kiss her. Not when she looked as disappointed as he felt. He liked ultraphysical sex—pushing it hard. Full-on and frantic, leaving him and his lover both too exhausted to move. Like everything he did, he liked it to extremes. He’d thought the beach had been his most extreme experience ever. He’d thought he wouldn’t be able to get hard again for at least twelve hours. But here he was filled and ready to fire not much more than fifteen minutes later.

  He swore hard in his head while his mouth ravaged hers. Burning up for this surprisingly fit woman who seemed to still be as hungry as he—who’d just given him the most sensational sex of his life. But he made himself ease it back, slow it down so their kisses soothed rather than stirred.

  Yet even those gentle touches were an indulgence he couldn’t give up. Not when she nipped and then suckled on his lower lip like that, not when her small fingers tugged at his hair so he’d bring his head closer again.

  Yeah, kissing her was irresistible. And the idea of being inside her again became imperative. He could take her back to his hotel and they could spend the night together. She made him feel invincible, filled with unending energy. Raw sexual attraction—and a compatibility that astounded him given their physical disparity.

  She had colour now—pretty pink rose petals bloomed in her cheeks. So much nicer than the pallor when she’d come flying out of the car to see if she’d killed him. The fresh air suited her; so did the kissed senseless look.

  But when he lifted his head to look at her beautiful body, he realised the light was darkening. He looked to the sky—heavy clouds had rolled across and were dropping lower with every second. Canterbury was famed for providing four seasons in one day and it seemed the weather had gone from summer to winter in minutes. The wind lifted, no longer the crazy warm breeze but a cold, threatening blast. And despite the way he ran his hands over her, he could see the goose bumps peppering her upper arms. They had to go. But he didn’t want to destroy this moment.

  ‘We need to get back to town,’ he said, sounding harsh with frustration. ‘It’s going to rain.’

  The disappointment darkened her eyes even more and he saw then just how tired she was. So he kissed her again, his hands gently rubbing her upper arms, slowly and lightly. Then he told her, ‘I’m driving back.’

  He saw her hesitation, just knew she was going to argue, so he kissed her again until she was lax and he could feel her soft drowsiness. He repeated his intention and smiled as she muttered OK.

  Ten minutes into the drive she’d twisted sideways in the seat and gone to sleep—smiling. She looked so sweet. So vulnerable. And so not his type. Jack looked back to the road as he felt the big fat oops hit him.

  Despite her sophisticated surface there was a sensitive depth there. He’d seen it in her terror after the accident, he’d just forgotten it when she’d turned sex kitten on him on the sand. And frankly he’d been too hot for her to be able to stop anyway. He’d wanted, and he’d got—just like always.

  But she was a softy, wasn’t she? And that soft side was only going to get scrunched if she hung out with him any more than another five minutes. He liked fun with women who were as strong as he—who could handle physical challenge without emotional entanglements. She’d hardly been able to handle a near-miss car prang. Hell, she’d probably still been in shock after the accident and he’d just taken total advantage of her. He felt really bad now. He couldn’t spend the rest of the day fulfilling carnal fantasies with her—even if it was what his body was screaming at him to do. He really didn’t want to hurt her and he’d seen the vulnerability in her eyes—he’d seen her surprise when he’d shown his interest. She wasn’t a player.

  So it was better to end it all now.

  As he waited at a red light on the city side of the hill he leaned across and woke her with an irresistible last little kiss. ‘Where do you live?’

  She stirred, blinking rapidly as she told him. He drove straight there, determined to finish up this oh-so-gorgeous interlude before he was tempted back to touch more.

  ‘You don’t want me to drop you somewhere?’ She straightened up in her seat.

  He shook his head. ‘The walk will be good for my knee.’

  If she went within a mile radius of his hotel he’d drag her in with him.

  He pulled over where she’d said to. ‘Big house.’

  Her pretty nose wrinkled. ‘It’s been converted into four flats. It’s all carved up inside.’

  He looked closer at the old stately house. One of the last original buildings remaining on the street—and the For Sale sign up in front of it meant she’d probably be moving soon. The property would be demolished and developers would put up ten town houses in its place—as what had happened with the rest of the street. Shame for the old dame—despite the wear and lack of love the structure was solid and the detail handcrafted.

  He got out of her car, trying to ignore the horrible tightening inside. He didn’t much like drawn-out goodbyes. But she moved so she was right in front of him, standing on her tiptoes in her bare feet, her fingers lightly cupping his jaw so she ensured she had his attention.

  ‘You were right, you know,’ she said simply. ‘Thanks so much, Jack.’

  He swallowed and nodded and simply couldn’t give her a kiss. Oddly hurt that she so readily accepted that there wasn’t going to be anything more between them. Not really wanting to be thanked as if it were some kind of service he’d provided—as if he’d just been her intimate masseuse or something.

  Hell, maybe she was tougher than she looked. Maybe he should just go in there with her and explore the comfort of her bed. Except she was walking. Away. As if she didn’t care at all—and that was for the best, right?

  ‘Good luck with your training,’ she called.

  He stood on the footpath and watched her open the big wooden door. Not moving until it had closed again behind her—because he was too tempted to storm in there after her and kiss her ’til she begged him to be inside her again. But she’d disappeared now, so he walked, trying to make his tense muscles relax—reminding himself that he’d just had a fun time on a beach with a cute girl. That was all. Nothing more. Nothing serious.

  But he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that he’d just left a part of himself behind.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THERE was always a pin to burst a bubble. And it didn’t take long for Kelsi to find one. All she’
d had to do was enter ‘Jack’ and ‘professional snowboarder’ and ‘New Zealand’ into her computer.

  Jack Greene was featured on a zillion webpages. And no wonder he looked as if he’d stepped out of a catalogue—he really had, modelling for the snow’n’skate chain of stores he’d got her the hat and wrap from. For their exclusive New Zealand designed snowboard gear range—he was the celebrity endorsement.

  Worse still, he was Jack Greene of the Pure Greene Trust that owned Karearea—the Maori name for the New Zealand falcon—and a private ski field. A couple of hours’ drive from Christchurch, it was the favourite winter playground of New Zealand’s sporting elite and showbiz celebrities and snobby super-rich people. Home to the exclusive, green-powered, luxury lodge where visiting Hollywood actors stayed when they were on a break from their location shoots and wanted to soak up the splendour of the Southern Alps. Kelsi’s jaw dropped as she went on the virtual tour of it on the website. The man was loaded.

  Then there were the video clips—and they totally diverted her. She watched some, barely peeping between her fingers as he defied gravity, reality and plain common sense by jumping off sheer edges of mountains, spinning round thirty times mid-air and then landing on the snow upright and coasting fast on a board that surely should have broken. He should have broken—and would have if he’d misjudged by even a millimetre.

  And then there were the women. He had no less than five different fan pages on Facebook—featuring the modelling pictures from years ago, the stills taken when he was midair in some jump. People tweeted with sightings of him and had pictures of them smiling standing next to him by the T-bar or chairlift.

  She’d had no idea there was such a scene with snowboarding. As rock stars had their groupies, snowboarders seemed to have their bunnies—beautiful women who were all long limbs and athletically capable. Some of them did those hair-raising jumps, too, some of them wore bikinis on the slopes—and all of them were clearly willing to do whatever with him.

  So why on earth had Jack Greene ever bothered with her?

  He must have been bored and caught by an impulse. Entertaining himself for a few hours before a mind-numbing plane ride. It was the only explanation. She cringed—it must have been so average for him. And she was so glad she’d managed a cool and sophisticated goodbye. Even though on the inside she’d been hoping he’d ask to spend the rest of the afternoon with her.

  She’d never had such spontaneous, sensual sex. Never outdoors. Never a one-night—or mid-morning—stand. Sex had always been under the covers in the dark in one of her total of two relationships. Never so wild and free and reckless. Frankly, there was a lot to be said for it. But she’d never admit it to anyone—especially not now she knew she was one of a zillion to be slayed by him.

  Next morning, heavy-hearted and unwilling to crawl out from hiding under her covers, she tried to tell herself it had all been a dream. If it weren’t for the few marks on her body, the sweet aches in her muscles, maybe she could convince herself totally. But there were those marks, those aches and that yearning feeling that just wouldn’t go away.

  More. She’d always wanted more—from life, from lovers, most of all from herself. She sighed and flung back the covers. How was she going to be able to look her workmates in the eyes? How did she tell them she hadn’t made it to that wretched appointment?

  ‘Wow, you look amazing,’ said Tom, who was on the other side of her partition in the office. ‘You’re glowing.’

  Um, well, that would be the slight all-over-body sunburn. But she’d covered up in a filmy black ensemble that clung from her neck down.

  ‘What treatments did you go for?’ Tom was still staring.

  Kelsi flushed and mumbled, ‘A new sort of sand scrub.’

  ‘Sand? Like from the Dead Sea or something?’

  ‘Something like that.’ Lying by omission wasn’t as bad as a complete fabrication, was it?

  ‘Awesome.’ Tom’s brows were almost to his hairline. ‘I’m going to have to book my girlfriend in for one of those. It’s done wonders for you.’ He stepped closer and looked at Kelsi’s eyes. ‘What colour?’

  ‘Rose.’ She badly needed that tint on the world today.

  She got her moisturiser from her drawer and smoothed it over her hands as she read through her emails. Then she forced her brain to concentrate on work. But she kept slipping. She’d been played so beautifully. Maybe falling for womanisers was a genetic thing because her mum had made that mistake, too. Kelsi’s own dad had been the local Lothario. Impossible as she found it to believe. But the red in his hair was more strawberry blonde, his skin tanned more easily, making his eyes less weird and more attractive. But he’d been so charming, so full of it. Her mother had forgiven him, taken him back three times before he left for good. That time he’d found another woman to make the perfect family with. She’d had the pretty daughter that his blood daughter wasn’t ever going to be. And Kelsi had been sucked in, too—believed his lines only to be let down too many times.

  But her dad wasn’t anywhere near the level of Jack Greene. Jack was a conqueror—now she knew. She wasn’t surprised either. She’d guessed he had success and experience with women. And she bet that once he’d conquered, he moved on to new challenges—a.s.a.p. That was the kind of adrenaline-fuelled lifestyle he’d lead.

  And that was OK. She didn’t hold it against him. It wasn’t as if he’d made her any promises. He hadn’t lied and pretended there’d be anything more to them—in fact, he’d been careful to make sure she understood.

  But of course he’d known just how to look at her, how to hold her to make her feel so special—so that saying no was an impossibility. He was a master of passion. The ultimate playboy. While that didn’t mean she couldn’t still enjoy the memory, she’d probably be better off if she just forgot about it. It hadn’t been that special at all—certainly not for him.

  But no matter how many times she vacuumed her car she couldn’t get all the sand out. In the end she handed over the money for a professional full-service valet. The car came back smelling of chemicals strong enough to burn her nostrils. But it was better than the hint of sun and surf and sex that had lingered for days. Every time she got into the damn thing she saw a mirage of him—his broad shoulders leaning across with his head in her lap as he’d removed her shoe. Yeah, in her mind she saw his head in her lap way too often.

  Maybe she’d discovered her penchant for anonymous mid-morning stands. Maybe she should try for another. But the idea of any other man repulsed her. None looked even remotely attractive—none could compare. She couldn’t shake him from her head. She dreamed of him, she thought she saw him in the distance on the street. And she sat in the office and stared out at the hills way too much. Stupid to imagine herself back out there—she’d much rather be indoors looking at beautiful art and design.

  Trouble was, Jack Greene had the most beautifully designed body she’d ever seen. Memories flooded her and she struggled to keep on top of them—and on her body’s continual slow burn. So she worked even harder than usual, taking on several more projects. Working so hard and so long that by the end of each day she was so exhausted she slept—at least for some of the night.

  Weeks later, even more swamped and exhausted by her workload, she parked her car outside her flat. The old house still hadn’t sold, and she was glad, despite being the only tenant left in the big building. She locked the car and went to find a packet of instant food.

  But someone was sitting on the deck. Her footsteps slowed as she walked nearer. Not sure she could trust her eyes. She knew that hair, that face, most definitely that body. He’d been in her dreams for the last month.

  She couldn’t believe he was here. Or that he was wearing jeans and shirt quite like that. She remembered the strength in those thighs. The tight butt. Not to mention the hard, flat abs, the broad chest and the sleek curves of his shoulders as he’d arched above her. No fat, just long, lean muscle and smooth burnished skin. And the smattering of hair that ar
rowed to…

  Yes. She stood transfixed at the bottom of the steps—because she knew that beneath the designer casual and the fancy watch the raw body was even better.

  ‘Hey, Kelsi.’ With his athletic grace he rose to his feet and smiled.

  ‘Jack,’ she swallowed. ‘This is a surprise.’

  ‘Yeah,’ he agreed. ‘I wanted to see you.’

  Why? All kinds of crazy reasons raced through her brain but none of the good options could be possible. It had to be bad, or maybe he was just passing and stopped to say hi or something. It couldn’t be that she’d made any kind of impact on him.

  She didn’t have the courage to ask, didn’t have the courage to look into those blinding eyes again because one of the best things about her time with Jack was that it had been rejection-free—so she didn’t want to ask for it now. She settled on a safe question instead. ‘You want to come in for a coffee or something?’

  A self-serving invite anyway. Coffee would clear her head—wake her up enough to work out whether this was just one of those hot dreams or not.

  ‘Thanks.’

  Jack couldn’t wrench his gaze from her as he followed her up the stairs. Some sort of skull cap covered most of her hair, only a few blonde tufts appeared around the edges. Her face was as pale as ever but her eyes were really something—silver irises—almost as reflective as a mirror. They went perfectly with the shimmering silver dress that hung as the top layer over the black fabric swamping every inch of her skin. She looked like an ethereal nymph of the night. And she turned him on to an almost uncontrollable degree. He wanted to push the shiny thin fabric to the ground so he could see the perfect, petite treasure beneath. He wanted to slide the contacts from her eyes so he could see the true colour she so determinedly hid—and her true expression. Her entire outfit was a cover. So was her cool response to him now—or so he hoped anyway, because she hadn’t exactly been all immediate warmth and touch like the occasional reunions he’d had with other lovers. But then Kelsi wasn’t anything like those other lovers, was she? That was the problem—she was the only one to haunt him.