New Year,’ Zack said.
Judy made a small huffing noise.
His parents had decided, on Toby’s death and Zack’s failure to settle, that there could be no more happy years.
‘Happy New Year, Zack,’ Judy said, but even that came out with a slight edge. Zack made sure he was happy, that he lived, that he grabbed this rare gift by the throat and got every bit of life out of it.
He’d promised his brother he would.
‘Mum,’ Zack suddenly said. ‘I’ll come home for a visit in April. Tell Dad that.’
‘For how long?’
‘I’m not sure, but I’ll be back to see you both then.’
He ended the call and though he could not stand the thought of living back there, and being in a place where everyone knew your business, it didn’t mean he didn’t love nature and space and the people.
And, though things were strained, he loved his family.
Zack lay on the bed and closed his eyes but he couldn’t unwind. Speaking with his parents always left him feeling like that. The plans his parents had had for him had been set in stone from the day he was born. They just hadn’t thought to consult the baby they had made.
He was to study medicine in Melbourne as his father and brother had done, but even before he had left for the city Zack had known in his heart that he wasn’t coming back.
Tara had known it too.
Of course he remembered Tara.
Not just the hot, sexy kisses behind a barn and sultry outback nights, more he remembered a conversation that had taken place the night before he’d left as they’d lain in each other’s arms. ‘You’re not coming back, are you?’ Tara had asked.
‘You talk as if I’m leaving the country. I’m only going to Melbourne. I’ll be back for the summer breaks.’ Even at eighteen he’d been direct. ‘But, no, I can’t see myself here, Tara.’
‘And I don’t want to be there,’ Tara said. She was a country girl and loved it and neither wanted to change or to change the other.
‘Have you told your parents?’ she asked.
‘I’ve tried,’ Zack said. ‘They don’t understand.’
He was still trying.
And all these years later they still didn’t understand.
Zack went to pour a drink but the half-bottle of wine was empty and he wasn’t a big fan of American beer.
He was about to ring for room service but, still churned up from the conversation with his mother, he pulled on his boots again and took the elevator down, but it only took him to the mezzanine level and he decided to take the escalator down to the bar.
There were people everywhere, all standing on the stairs, and then he found out why.
The wedding.
‘You’ll have to use the elevators if you want to get to the ground floor,’ someone told him, and they sounded annoyed. ‘The escalators and stairs are in use.’
And there was the woman from said elevator, organising the wedding party, telling people to step back or to stand a fraction more to the left.
Zack watched as a gentleman came over to her and whatever she said had him step abruptly back.
Oh, she was a snappy, bossy little thing, Zack thought.
Not with him, though.
And then she looked up.
Oh, my... Freya thought, and another of Edward’s sleazy come-ons left her mind.
If Mr 2812 had been sexy before, he was sinfully so now—dishevelled and just raw male, he made her toes curl in her very painful shoes. His hair was messy, his T-shirt was all crumpled and, alongside all the suits and formal clothes, in those dark jeans and tight T-shirt he stood out, deliciously so.
Freya dragged her mind away from rude thoughts. This shot was important and the countdown had started. Beth and Neil were in position and everyone was in place and she should be able to relax soon. All she had to do was wave the happy couple off and the rest of the night was hers.
Concentrate, Freya.
She couldn’t.
There was just this prickling awareness all over her as she recalled his scent and the feel of his hand on her arm.
Oh, God. She gazed up at him and hoped her eyes weren’t frantic, but that was how she suddenly felt—frantic for him.
‘Ten!’ everybody shouted. ‘Nine!’
They could not stop staring and, as the countdown drew to its conclusion, as everyone started cheering and kissing, Beth’s carefully organised photos were ruined by a tall guy bursting through and dashing down the stairs.
‘Auld Lang Syne’ was being sung out around them as his hands took her by the upper arms. Briefly she wondered why, instead of kissing her as she badly needed him to do, he was moving her away. But then Freya found out exactly why.
This wasn’t a kiss suitable for public exposure.
They were in a small booth to the side of the hotel’s reception when his mouth first met hers. They came together so hard that their teeth met and his tongue was strong and thick and very indecent. Her hips were held by him, and animal passion, which had never taken up residence in Freya before, rapidly made itself right at home.
Her hands were pressing into his chest, not to push him away, just to feel him, to rub those solid muscles beneath greedy palms. Then they went up to his head and her fingers dug into his hair. She kissed him back on tiptoe, so that her heels lifted up out of her shoes in an attempt to scale him.
He pulled back and gave her an intense look and there was no mention of going up for a drink.
‘I have to get back...’ It was a feeble protest she made. ‘I just need ten more minutes to sort the wedding party out.’
‘We can’t wait.’
His erection was in her groin and Freya herself was pressing hard into him.
‘I have to make sure that they get off okay...’
He peered out.
‘They’re waving and the bride is about to throw the bouquet. Do you want to go and try to catch it?’
The question was a loaded one.
What was she looking for—an amazing night with no names, or to dash off and catch the bouquet and the dream that it might one day be her?
‘God, no,’ Freya said. She was more than happy with being a third-time bridesmaid and so she took his head in her hands and got back to that mouth for one more deep kiss before they hit the elevators.
Freya pressed the button for the twenty-eighth floor.
‘You remembered,’ he said.
‘Oh, yes!’
SADLY FOR THEM the elevator was full.
The wedding guests were dispersing and either heading to their rooms or to the bars. There were many, many opportunities for Freya to change her mind on the long and frustrating ride to the twenty-eighth floor and say that this was a terrible idea and so not like her.
It never entered Freya’s head to do so.
Her rigid, controlled life was in desperate need of fun and adventure, and he offered that and more.
He was beautiful.
Even