Chapter Nine
Joel
“Joel,” Zoe says.
I bring my gaze back to her. I was thinking about Elora, and hoping I was right to say she’s old enough to know her own mind. Linc used to be my best friend. I think it would break my heart too if he hurt her.
“Joel,” Zoe says again, gently. She’s leaning forward on the table, and her head is tipped a little to the side as she studies me. “You know I’m proud of you, right?”
I blink. It’s honestly the first time in my life that anyone has ever said that to me.
I open my mouth to reply, but no words come out.
She watches me finish off my Champagne and then clear my throat. Eventually I say, rather hoarsely, “I wasn’t looking for praise.”
“It’s mine to give,” she says, “just like your money is yours to spend on a gift for me.”
My lips twist, because she’s right.
“I can’t tell you how proud I felt when I was talking to Manu and he told me about all your accomplishments,” she continues. “I don’t know why you haven’t shouted them from the rooftops. I didn’t even know you were in charge of the North Island offices! And now you’re up for Director of Operations. At twenty-eight! That’s amazing!”
My face grows hot. Jesus. I haven’t blushed since I was about twelve.
“And all those dive awards,” she continues, shaking her head.
Her eyes glow with admiration, and it makes me feel the way I did when I went diving at Australia’s Great Barrier Reef and saw a rare juvenile oarfish—filled with wonder.
“You must have practiced so much,” she says, “and worked so hard to get them. I can’t imagine the number of hours you must have put in. I’m absolutely stunned that you hold the static apnea test for over nine minutes. That’s incredible.”
“Please stop,” I say, feeling uncomfortable.
“No,” she says, “I won’t, because I have a feeling that nobody has said anything like this to you before. You’re amazing, Joel. Extraordinary. And the fact that I don’t want to have a relationship with you has absolutely nothing to do with you. It’s all me. You are sexy, and confident, and accomplished, and any woman would be incredibly lucky to have you as a partner.”
I scratch the back of my neck. “I don’t know what to say.”
She finishes off her champagne and licks her lips. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know that you’re not invisible. People do see what you’ve achieved, and they are impressed.”
You’re not invisible . That was an interesting phrase for her to choose, because that’s how I’ve felt so often with my father. My mother isn’t quite as bad, but even she forgets I exist when Fraser or Elora needs something. Maybe it’s a compliment—perhaps my parents both assume I don’t need their praise or help. They only have so much time and affection, and they would rather spend it on someone who needs it. But they don’t understand that we all need to be supported, and admired, and lifted up from time to time.
I don’t like thinking about it, because it makes me feel needy and childish. I’m a grown man now, and I can achieve my goals without their approval or their praise. But despite that, Zoe’s words touch me more than she can ever know.
Isamu comes out with a tray containing two cups of coffee, milk, and sugar, collects our dessert plates, and disappears inside.
We add a splash of milk, then sip our coffee, which is hot and slightly nutty. The jazz music is like the soundtrack to summer. I can smell the jasmine growing around the edge of the pool, and in the trees behind us comes the sound of a ruru or New Zealand owl: more pork! The southern stars are bright in the darkening sky.
I point to one of them. “Puppis is clear tonight.”
“Puppis?”
I draw a line in the sky. “The brightest star is Naos, which means “ship” in Greek. The constellation represents the stern of the mythical ship Argo Navis. It was one of the largest constellations in the sky, but it was eventually divided into three smaller constellations: Puppis, Carina, and Vela. It also includes a nebula called the Skull and Crossbones.”
“Trust you to know that,” she teases. “Anything to do with the sea.”
It’s growing cool, and she shivers, but this time I don’t have a jacket to put around her shoulders.
“Would you like to move inside?” I ask her.
She nods, so we collect our cups and go into the living room. I sit in one of the armchairs, and she takes the sofa.
Isamu comes in carrying a white bowl that he places on the table. It contains a pile of chocolate mints. He gives us a little bow. “I’ve cleaned everything up,” he says, “and I’m off now.”
“Thank you so much for that fantastic meal,” I reply, standing to shake his hand. “It was truly splendid.”
“I’ve never had anything like it,” Zoe says. “I really appreciate you taking the time to cook for us.”
“You’re very welcome. I hope you have an enjoyable stay.” He gives another little bow, then goes back into the kitchen. Soon, we see him carrying a couple of boxes out to a trolley on the path, and then we hear the wheels as it trundles away.
“What a wonderful experience,” Zoe says. “Thank you so much.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
“I did. It was a great gift, and I really appreciate it.” She finishes off her coffee, then reaches for one of the chocolate mints and pops it in her mouth. “Ooh, these are good.”
I do the same, sucking the chocolate off and discovering the mint-flavored fondant beneath it. We both eat another, talking about the food and which course we enjoyed most.
Eventually, though, she says, “Well, I suppose we should go to bed. I’m really tired, and we have another busy day tomorrow.”
I nod reluctantly. “Yeah, come on, then.”
We get to our feet, and she takes our coffee cups into the kitchen while I lock up the villa. When I’m done, we walk to the bedrooms and stand just outside, between the two doors.
She smiles. “Thank you again.”
I nod. “Uh, you have a bit of chocolate on your lip…” I gesture at her Cupid’s bow.
Embarrassed, she scrubs at it, but she does it the wrong side and doesn’t remove it.
I close the distance between us, standing just a few inches away. Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t move back.
I lick my thumb. Press it gently on the chocolate mark and wipe it away. Insert it into my mouth and suck the chocolate off.
Zoe’s lips curve up, and her eyes turn sultry. “You’re so wicked.”
I don’t reply. I just study her mouth. The fascinating curve of that Cupid’s bow. The deep groove that runs from it to her nose.
Her lips part a little, giving me a glimpse of her straight white teeth.
“I know you don’t want a relationship,” I murmur. “I know you don’t want to go to bed with me. And you’re under no obligation to say yes, I swear. But you’re beautiful, and I’ve had a great day with you. Would you agree to a kiss?”
*
Zoe
My heart does a trampoline-style octuple full—a single back somersault with eight twists—as his gaze slips to my mouth.
My first instinct is to blurt out No! Absolutely not! It would be the absolute worst thing I could do to kiss him. It would be like not having eaten chocolate for a month and then nibbling the corner of a Mars Bar. Or having a sip of the best white wine on a cold day. How could you stop yourself from drinking the whole glass?
He’s waiting patiently, his night-sky eyes studying my face, maybe trying to read in my eyes how I’m feeling. I still feel uncomfortable that he paid for this very expensive villa. The least I can do is give him a kiss, right?
Then I know I’m kidding myself. He meant it when he said I’m under no obligation. He’s that kind of guy. I don’t owe him anything. If I end up kissing him, it’s because I want to, and thinking there’s any other reason is just fooling myself.
And I do want to kiss him. Very much.
One little kiss. Surely there’s no harm in that?
“Just a kiss?” I whisper.
His gaze drops to my mouth. “Just a kiss.”
“You promise?”
“Cross my heart.” He swipes his finger over his chest, looking amused.
I press my lips together involuntarily as I think about his lips pressing against mine. “I shouldn’t,” I whisper.
“And I shouldn’t ask.”
We study each other for a moment. Slowly, our lips curve up.
He puts his hands on my shoulders, then turns me and moves me back against the door jamb. “I can’t help myself,” he murmurs.
He moves closer, so we’re almost touching, and looks down as he leans on the doorframe above me.
“This is like the Booktok door frame lean challenge,” I say breathlessly. “Oh my God. It actually works.”
He chuckles and cups my face with his other hand. His fingers are warm on my skin. I can smell his ocean scent. He’s so close to me. I can feel the heat of his body through his shirt. My heart is racing at the sensation of him touching me. Ahhh… I knew this was a bad idea… I shouldn’t have drunk the Champagne. Lust sweeps over me. I want to go to bed with him… I want to strip off our clothes and lie naked together… I want to feel his hands all over my body, on my breasts, between my legs, exploring while he kisses me… The ache, the longing, is so strong it’s overwhelming…
In my head I’m acting like a toddler, running around waving my arms and screaming. But in reality the villa is quiet, and the air is still. It’s almost as if time has stopped, and the world is holding its breath, waiting to see what happens. We’ve turned all the lights out, but the moon is nearly full, and her bright light slants across us, casting us both in silver. We look like a couple of actors from a black-and-white movie—Clark Gable and Vivien Leigh, or Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor, acting out a love scene in a romantic movie.
Action , the director says and, slowly, Joel lowers his lips to mine.
I close my eyes. His mouth is warm, dry, and firm. He presses his lips against mine for a few seconds, then moves back an inch. I think he’s waiting to see if I freak out.
When I don’t move, he does it a second time, then lifts his head and waits.
“You want to breathe before you pass out?” he suggests.
I exhale in a rush. “I was going for a static apnea kiss.”
He chuckles. How come my head’s like a carousel that someone’s switched up to max speed, and he’s so in control? He brushes his thumb across my lips, sending a tingle from the nape of my neck all the way down my spine. Feeling a surge of mischief, I catch his thumb between my teeth, close my lips around it, and suck it into my mouth. I wash my tongue over the pad, and Joel’s eyes flare.
With a muttered growl, he removes his thumb, takes my face in both his hands, and crushes his lips to mine.
I gasp, my mouth opening, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss and slide his tongue against mine, at the same time pressing his body closer, pinning me against the wall. My hands fly to his chest, and for a moment I’m not sure whether I’m going to push him away or pull him closer. My fingers clutch at his shirt as I fight with myself.
And then heat roars through me as if I’ve stepped into a furnace, and I slide my hands up and around his neck, where they finally sink into his hair.
Joel groans, a guttural growl deep in his throat, making me tremble. He’s kissing me as if his life depends on it. As if it’s the only thing that can stop him from drowning. As if he’s wanted this more than anything else in the world, and he can’t believe he’s finally got it. He sweeps his tongue into my mouth, tasting me, the erotic slide of it against mine making me clench inside and my nipples tighten in my bra.
He slides his arms around me and tightens them, pulling me up close against him. Oh God, I didn’t anticipate this… this fire inside me. He moves his hands up my sides, and for a moment I think he’s going to cup my breasts. He pauses on either side of them, then continues up, stroking under my arms, then moving up to take my wrists and pin them above me.
Lifting his head, he stares into my eyes. We’re both breathing heavily, and I tremble again.
“You have to stop doing that,” he says huskily. Our bodies are pressed together, and I can feel his erection, long and hard where it’s pressed against my mound.
“I can’t help it,” I whisper. I try to move my arms, but he’s holding my wrists tightly. Oh my God. I didn’t expect any of this.
“You need to tell me to stop,” he says. His voice is low and slightly hoarse. He rocks his hips, stroking his erection through my soft flesh. Aaahhh… I’m so turned on, I think I could come just by him doing that…
But it would be a terrible mistake. I found quiet, rather moody Joel attractive. What would happen if I went to bed with this stick of dynamite? He’d blow me sky high. And I can’t afford to let that happen.
“I want you to stop,” I whisper.
For a few seconds I don’t think he’s going to move. He stares into my eyes, his chest heaving. What’s he going to do? Sweep me up into his arms, carry me through to my bed, toss me on it, and fuck me into next week?
Oh God, ninety-nine percent of me wants him to do that sooooo much…
Abruptly, though, he moves back, releasing my wrists. I rub them, although he hasn’t hurt them, looking down, because I can’t bear to see the blazing desire in his eyes.
“Good night,” he says. And he walks into his room and closes the door.
With a silent groan, I turn and lean my forehead against the wall. I bang it gently, a couple of times.
In the distance, I hear the shower running.
Argh… he’s probably going to take himself in hand while he’s in there… thinking about me, and how he wanted to touch my breasts, how he aches to be inside me… he’ll give himself long, slow strokes that gradually speed up until he’s pumping hard… his muscles tightening and clenching… until his body stiffens, and he gives a deep growl and comes all over the tiles…
Oh Jesus. I’m going mad. Very slowly, and quite elegantly, I’m actually going insane.
I go into my room and shut the door with a little more force than is necessary. Hopefully he heard that.
I flop face down on my bed and lie there like that for a while, fighting with myself. I am not going to touch myself just because Joel Bell has got me all hot and bothered. I’m not going to let him have that power over me. I’m a grown, independent woman; I’m not letting any man be in charge of my arousal.
Oh… who am I kidding?
It’s always easier lying on my front, I don’t know why, and between the ridge of the folded-over coverlet, my bunched-up dress, and my tight underwear all pressing against my mound, I don’t stand a chance. I pluck at my nipples as I move my hips, and it only takes about thirty seconds for the ache inside me to reach its peak. Aaahhh… I picture myself riding Joel, his hands on my breasts, his dark-blue eyes watching me as my climax nears, and then imagine him pulling me down to kiss me as I come, clenching hard with several blissful pulses, moaning with each one. Oh my God… I collapse onto the bed, uncaring that it’s hard to breathe, trembling a little, hot and sticky and cross with myself. It’s all his fault.
*
The next morning, I go into the kitchen at eight and discover Joel already up, cooking fried eggs and bacon. Toast pops up in the toaster as I walk in. A mug of steaming coffee sits on the breakfast bar.
He glances over his shoulder. “Morning,” he says.
“Morning,” I mumble. I walk up to the hob and stand beside him, looking at the contents of the frying pan. “That looks nice.”
“I’m making us a bacon and egg sandwich. It’s a while before we dive, and it’ll give us plenty of energy for the day. I think we both need it.”
I look up and meet his eyes. They glimmer with amusement. Hmm… he can’t be referring to what I did last night, surely?
“You might want to close your window next time,” he says.
My eyes widen. Oh shit! He heard me! “Joel!”
He laughs, returning his gaze to the pan. “What?”
“I can’t believe you!”
“Honey, it was hardly a shock after that kiss. The only reason you didn’t hear me was because there was a shower cubicle and the bathroom door between us.” He chuckles and flips the bacon.
My lips twitch. I like that he’s open about it. Charles used to change the subject if I ever mentioned him doing DIY as if it was something to be ashamed of. Well, it’s a perfectly natural act, and if Joel’s not embarrassed, I’m not going to be coy about it.
“It was quite a good kiss,” I admit, retrieving the toast from the toaster.
“It was a fucking amazing kiss.” He picks up his coffee and sips it, watching me get the spread out of the fridge. “Rematch tonight?”
I laugh and start buttering the toast. “Absolutely not.”
“Spoilsport.”
“You know it would be a mistake.”
“It wouldn’t be anything of the sort. It would be hot as .”
“I’m not denying that.” I lay the pieces of toast out, and he brings over the pan. I get the bacon out with a fork and place it on the toast, and then he lifts the eggs with a spatula and puts them on top.”
“Ketchup?” I ask.
“Please.”
I squirt sauce over them both and finish off with the other slice of toast, and then go around the breakfast bar and pull up a stool. Joel sits opposite me, and we both take a big bite of the sandwich.
I sigh as I chew the mouthful of bacon and egg and swallow. “Oh my God, that’s amazing.”
His eyelids lower to half-mast as he watches me. “You’re the only woman I know who can make eating a bacon and egg sandwich sexy.”
I stop in the process of licking my fingers free of butter and ketchup and meet his eyes. He looks slightly grumpy.
“Sorry,” I say.
He huffs a sigh, then carries on eating his sandwich.
I decide changing the subject is the best course of action. “So what’s the plan?”
“Meeting the guys at nine. Then it’s full on down in the hold. As many dives as we can manage.”
“Cool. I’m excited.”
“Yeah, it should be fun.” He leans on the breakfast bar and has a mouthful of coffee. Then he says, “About last night.”
“You shouldn’t have been listening.”
“Sweetheart, I could have heard you in Wellington.”
I close my eyes for a moment. “Jesus.” When I open them again, his hot gaze is fixed on me.
“It took all my self-control not to climb through your window,” he says.
“Will you stop?”
“Thinking about you lying there… all hot and sticky and red-faced…” He blows out a breath.
I have a bite of the sandwich, trying not to laugh.
His smile fades then. “Will you tell me why you won’t go out with me?”
“I have told you.”
“You’ve said you don’t want a relationship. And yet you went out with Charlemagne for two years.”
I pick a piece of bacon out of the sandwich and eat it. “Let’s just say he wasn’t very supportive when I needed him to be.”
He surveys me thoughtfully. “He hurt you.”
“Yeah, you could say that.”
“Physically?”
“No! God no. Nothing like that.”
“So emotionally. And what? You’re afraid I’ll do the same?”
I don’t reply, and he looks puzzled. “I wouldn’t hurt you,” he says.
“You can’t say something like that.”
“I would do my utmost not to.”
“I know you would never mean to, but it doesn’t work like that. You can’t know how you’ll react to something.”
“React to what?”
“I really don’t want to talk about it.”
“Whatever it is you’re hiding, I do my best not to judge.”
I don’t know how to explain myself. “It’s… it’s not just about you. How much someone can hurt you… it’s related to the strength of your feelings for them… That’s garbled. Do you understand?”
He meets my eyes, and we study each other quietly for a moment.
“You have feelings for me?” he concludes.
“Of course I have feelings for you. And I know if we were to get involved, I’d fall for you very quickly and heavily. And therefore I could get hurt very badly if it all goes wrong.”
His expression softens. He likes that I’ve admitted how I feel. “What if I were to promise that we’d deal with whatever the problem was? We’d talk about it, discuss it calmly, unemotionally?”
I think about how I sat Charles down that terrible day, and how I did my best to explain what happened. And then I think about the look on his face—the disgust, the disappointment. I’m not sure now if he ever loved me, but certainly after that he didn’t. Immediately, I wished I hadn’t told him, but I’d crossed the bridge and burned it behind me, and there was no going back.
“No,” I say eventually. “I’ve made up my mind.” I’m not going down that road again.
He sits there for a moment, his eyes the only betrayal of his feelings. Then he gets up and takes his plate and mug over to the sink and starts running the hot water.
I study him for a moment. Then I finish off my own coffee and get up to take the plate and mug over.
He begins washing the dishes. I stand beside him, take them when they’re done, and dry them on the tea towel.
We don’t talk about it again.