Chapter 4
“SAMANTHA? WHAT THE—” The woman in the doorway froze. He’d recognise those curves anywhere. Nate’s half-awake mind raced. Was she here to apologise?
He took in her bare feminine shoulders, swept his eyes over her full breasts and hips covered by skimpy lace underwear.
Was she here to convince him to come home?
Nate’s body reacted automatically. His shoulders tensed, ready for an argument and, annoyingly, the urgent heat of attraction radiated deep within. But he wasn’t interested in anything that woman had to say or do. There were no excuses. Even if there were, he didn’t want to hear them.
All the pain and regret and betrayal he’d been pushing down rushed into his chest and charged at his heart, daggers ready.
“Get out!” he yelled. “Just get out!”
With a squeal, the woman disappeared into the hallway, leaving Nate sitting up in bed shaking with adrenaline. What just happened? How could—
Idiot. Realisation hit him and drained the fight from his limbs. There was no way Samantha could have followed him from London to rural New Zealand. The middle of nowhere. He hadn’t even told his parents where he was. He barely knew where he was.
His sleep-drugged mind cleared and Nate slowly pieced together a more likely scenario.
Could the silhouette be the midwife from the show.
..what was her name? She was so similar to his ex, he hadn’t even been able to look at her on set.
He was sure Samantha even owned the exact same little black dress.
The close resemblance had completely shaken him, and he knew he’d come across as rude when Laney introduced them.
And now, if that was her, he’d screamed at a complete stranger. Good one.
But what on earth was she doing in his room, and in black lacey underwear, no less?
Nate propped himself up on the edge of the bed until his limbs stopped shaking and his pulse calmed. He pulled on the jeans he’d left next to the bed and made his way to the lounge, wondering what he'd gotten himself into.
JESS THREW HER SUITCASE DOWN AND RUMMAGED through it for a pair of pyjamas, her heart pounding. What was that pompous Hollywood doctor doing in her bed? Her face flushed, but more from rage than embarrassment. Obviously there’d been a mixup, but it would have to be him, wouldn’t it?
At the creak of the hallway door opening behind her, she stood to her full height, and—hands on her lace-covered hips—turned to confront Nate.
On seeing her still in her bra and panties, he shielded his eyes with his hand and stared at the ground.
“Sorry, I mean...I didn’t…Can I ask what you’re doing here?” he stuttered.
“This is the accommodation I was given, so I guess I should be asking you that question.” It thrilled her a little to see him looking so uncomfortable.
“Your accommodation?! I’ve been here for—”
“I don’t care how long you’ve been staying in my cottage,” she bit back.
Nate sighed, his hand still covering his eyes.
He could try to come across as the perfect gentleman all he wanted, but there was no way she’d buy it.
“This is the address Tom sent me to.” She let her gaze drift down Nate’s bare chest to his narrow hips and back up again, measuring him up. “It was next to my name on the list. And to be honest, I’m far too tired to be dealing with you right now.”
With his toned shoulders and sculpted abs, he certainly fit the actor stereotype.
The familiar pull tugged in her stomach.
She knew just what it felt like to be pressed up against a body like that, but these hot guys were clones of each other, with personalities to match.
You knew one; you knew them all. And she’d known enough of them to stay well away.
“You can’t stay here,” he said. “There’s only one bedroom.”
“I don’t intend on driving all the way back to Rangiora in the middle of the night to sort it out, if that’s what you’re suggesting. And I certainly won’t be sleeping in my car.”
Hoping it would end the conversation, she turned back to her suitcase, hunting through her clothes with purpose. Infuriatingly, he didn’t leave. She sighed. Reluctant to give him anything that felt like a win, but with exhaustion hitting hard, she was beyond ready for this conversation to be over.
“You can just deal with my being here for the night,” she said. “You can find yourself another place to stay tomorrow.”
She pulled a navy satin pyjama top over her head and looked for the matching bottoms, conscious of Nate standing behind her, most likely getting a good eyeful of her curves by now. The gentleman thing was an act, she knew it. He could look all he wanted; he wouldn't be getting close.
Turning back to Nate, she set a cold expression on her face, ready to challenge him. Surprisingly, his hand was still over his eyes.
“I’m dressed. You can look for goodness sake.”
Lowering his hand, a slight flush coloured his cheeks.
Good. She’d ruffled him. She stood up straighter.
“I’ll sleep on the couch tonight,” she said, her voice tight. “But don’t forget to change the bedroom sheets when you leave in the morning.”
“You expect me to move out? I don’t see why I—”
Hands on her hips again, she glared at him. “Have you heard of a thing called privacy? I’m trying to get ready for bed here.”
All the fight left Nate’s face. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at it. “I can’t believe this.” Turning on his heels, he headed toward the bedroom, slamming the hall door behind him.
In the small lounge, an angry heat tightened her throat as she stared at the door. Stupid, arrogant man. Now she was exhausted and forced to sleep on a couch without a blanket or pillow in sight.
Out of nowhere, tears threatened to spill over, but there was no way she'd let herself cry. No way she’d give Nate Mitchell the satisfaction of upsetting her, even if he wasn’t here to see it.
She’d know. The thought of crying because of a guy?
Infuriating. Jess promised herself she’d never be like that after watching her mother weep yet again after a fight with her stepfather, when she was 19.
A frustrated growl escaped from between her teeth.
The couch looked long enough to sleep on, but she couldn’t stand sleeping without bedding.
Charging into the bedroom and snatching all the covers and pillows off the bed was a tempting option.
It would serve him right. He’d been nothing but rude since she’d met him.
But she knew she wouldn't do it. In part, she felt she’d overreacted a little.
The ping of her phone reminded her of why that might be. Dave hadn’t let up all day. She’d read his messages all in one go after the shoot ended. His texts started out fine but got progressively nastier as the day dragged on. She clicked to open his latest message.
Forget it, Jess. But don’t expect to find anyone better!
Showing his true colours. That was the problem with guys like Dave and Nate. They were so charming and handsome. They’d promise you the world. Then, when they didn’t get what they wanted, they’d turn on you or run away.
The previous night, with Dave, she’d thought she’d made it clear they were casual. Hadn’t they both said that’s what they wanted? He was a tech in radiology, and they’d gone out clubbing a handful of times. Only ever for fun.
“Stay the night?” he’d asked her after the clubs closed and they’d ended up at his house. Why had she agreed to stay?
That was one of her rules. Don’t sleep over. Don’t snuggle after sex. Don’t go on too many dates with the same guy. Keep it fun. Keep it casual. That way, no-one gets hurt.
She’d broken all the rules with Dave. They’d laughed and danced and slept together and then, stupidly, she’d stayed the night curled in his arms. He’d wrapped himself against her, the big spoon to her small.
He’d left the curtains open in his second-story apartment so they could watch the sun rise: red and orange against the cloudy morning sky. For a moment, Jess had slipped.
“This is romantic,” she’d said into his pillows.
Had it misled him? Was it the signal he’d been waiting for? She’d meant the view, not him. Any spark she felt with Dave was a minor flicker at most. He was attractive, but clearly a player. Another reason she’d thought he’d been safe to date.
Mr. Casual. Mr. Commitment-phobe.
But no.
“I love you, Jess,” he’d whispered into her ear.
He loved her? How could someone love you after just a few dates? It was either delusional or manipulative to claim the L-word that early on. After Dave’s last text, she was leaning towards manipulative. There’s no way she’d fall for that trick. Not this time.
Jess searched the room for any kind of drawer where blankets might be hiding. She opened and shut cupboards, not worrying if it kept Nate awake.
Thinking about Dave fuelled her anger toward Nate, which she knew was unfair, but she couldn’t help it. He was clearly one of those men, too. The fake charmers.
Growing up, she’d watched her poor mother fall for men like that and get hurt again and again.
It had ruined her mum’s life, and left her depressed and barely able to care for Jess.
When her stepfather came into the picture, he’d started cheating as soon as they got back from the honeymoon—not even trying to be subtle about it.
Then he’d charm his way back into her mother’s arms, saying all the right things, and she forgave him every time.
Even Jess’s birth father, another dark-eyed, handsome wannabe-actor, had said “I love you” after only a week and left her mother pregnant and alone to raise the baby while he ran off searching for stardom.
“Love bombing,” she muttered.
An Australian lifestyle blogger she liked had posted about it recently. Love bombers had fooled her too, in her late teens. Like mother, like daughter.
Except she’d learnt from her mistakes. There’d be no repeats. She kept things casual and didn’t allow anyone close enough to break her heart. When Dave said the L-word, she’d seen the red flag waving and taken her cue to run as far away as she could.
And that’s exactly what she did.
Jess opened a cupboard next to the bathroom. It proved to be a God-send. From top to bottom, neatly folded linen, blankets, and spare pillows filled the shelves. Selecting a peach-coloured fluffy blanket, two cotton cream sheets, and a feather-filled pillow, she arranged them on the couch.
Making the couch up eased some of the heat in her chest. The lovely cottage was exactly what she needed right now.
A quiet country escape; her very own cosy space to relax and be alone at night, emphasis on alone: a chance to get her thoughts straight.
Maybe she’d been a bit harsh with Nate, but he could still leave in the morning.
This was her cottage retreat, and she planned to fight for it.
Jess slipped between the sheets and rearranged the bedding around her, tucking the blanket like a scarf around her face, her cheek pressed into the soft pillow.
The couch was a little on the short side, and she’d probably be stiff in the morning from having her knees bent all night, but it was better than nothing.
The anger fully gone now, an empty, lonely-feeling hung in her chest. Spending nights with men like Dave, and Nate, always left her feeling empty and far more vulnerable than she liked to admit, even to herself.
She allowed one small tear to slip down her cheek before she wiped it away and drifted off to sleep.