The Complete Red-Hot Collection. Kelly Hunter
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after she’d tied him up and slaked her thirst for him and his for her.
He’d slept heart to heart and skin to skin with her name on his lips.
Her name was still echoing in his head and in his heart, deep in his psyche. Altering his perceptions. Changing his way of thinking about things. He’d left a message on her phone, telling her where he was going, what he was doing, and saying that he’d be in touch with her again once he’d docked. He’d invited her to the beach house, if she wasn’t doing anything this weekend.
He didn’t want to hear her say no. The little bird of hope in his chest just didn’t want to hear it. So he hadn’t rung again.
When he docked mid-morning on Friday, he didn’t interrupt Rowan’s work-day by calling. He let the little bird keep right on fluttering and called Lena instead, asked her if she wanted to meet him at the marina and take a look at their new purchase. He knew it for a token question because he knew full well she’d be there within the hour—her curiosity wouldn’t have it any other way.
If he was lucky she’d bring lunch.
She came by the swift red speedboat that Jared had forgotten she possessed. It had been a present from Trig, and Jared had got into trouble once for stealing it.
He smiled at the memory as Lena tossed a rope up to him with a cheerful ‘Looking good, brother.’
Lena looked beautiful and carefree, sun-browned and happy. She handed him a bright red Esky next, and then put her hand up for him to haul her aboard.
He laughed. ‘Wait for the ladder.’
‘I don’t need a ladder—just give me your hand.’
‘With my ribs? Hell, no. You look heavy.’
‘I’m a lightweight these days, I shall have you know,’ she protested. ‘My husband can carry me easily. You’re just getting careful in your old age.’
‘Had to happen some time. I’m also world-weary and jaded—and as of three days ago unemployed.’
‘Good thing you’re independently wealthy, then.’
He set the ladder over the side, and only when she’d reached the top did he offer his hand and some of his strength to help her board.
‘Nice,’ she said, looking around the little craft. ‘I thought you said it was second-hand?’
‘It is. Although I don’t think the previous owners ever actually sailed it anywhere.’
‘Good for them.’ Lena grinned. ‘Better for us.’ She headed for the hatch and leaned down to look inside. ‘Dear God, it’s mustard!’
‘It’s soothing.’
‘You’re joking.’ She started down the hatch. ‘Damon’s wife, Ruby, has the most amazing eye for colour. I say we let her loose on it.’
‘Isn’t she a little busy right now? With a baby coming?’
‘Okay, you’re right, I’ll do it myself. Maybe Ruby and the baby can help. You realise that I fully intend to be the mad aunt who leads that child astray every chance I get? He’ll have West genes to contend with—shouldn’t be too hard.’
‘He?’
‘Or she. I have no preference. I just want a beautiful healthy baby for them.’
‘You’re not—? You don’t—? I mean …’
He had no idea how to ask his next question, but Lena took pity on him.
‘Am I jealous?’ She nodded, but her wry smile held no bitterness. ‘A little. I’m kind of still coming to terms with the fact that no child will ever carry my blood, but there are other options. Adoption. Surrogacy. Even fostering. I met a twelve-year-old boy in hospital last year when I was there. He’s still there. The rest of his immediate family died in the same car accident that damaged his pelvis and legs.’
‘You want to take him on?’
‘Thinking about it. He’s a sweet kid. Never gives up. He’d fit right in.’
‘Does he have any other family?’
‘A grandmother on his maternal side who loves him dearly. But her resources are limited.’
‘Would she give him up?’
‘I don’t know that I’d even ask that of either of them. I’m thinking more along the lines of encompassing them both.’
‘Where does she live?’
‘Byron. That’s the beauty of it. She wouldn’t necessarily have to relocate. If we can show that between us we have all Tom’s rehabilitation, schooling, social and emotional needs covered we could bring him home from hospital.’ She shoved her sunglasses atop her head and fixed him with a penetrating stare. ‘What do you think?’
‘I think that if anyone can make it work, you can.’
He’d stood in front of the head of special intelligence only a few days ago and the older man, upon hearing Lena’s name, had questioned what she would bring to a team in her current state.
Heart. She would have brought that.
‘Management asked me to put together a black ops team the other day. If I’d have done so you’d have been in it. No—correction. I’d have asked you to be in it.’
Her smile faded.
‘I turned the offer down. Didn’t want it. Would you have wanted it?’
She looked at him for a long time and then slowly shook her head. ‘No. Once upon a time, hell yes. But, no—not any more.’
‘Then I guess I did the right thing.’
‘I guess you did.’
She studied him intently, as if she couldn’t quite get a good read on him, and it shattered him to know how closed-off he’d become these past two years—even to family.
‘So how does it feel to be free of it?’
He looked out over the ocean and thought of the days he’d just experienced. The stirrings of a new beginning in them … and a woman he’d never forget.
‘Feels good.’
Lena’s smile was blinding and her hug was fierce, and then she fell back and let him find his footing when it came to all the pesky emotions running through him.
‘Lunch? I need to investigate the mustard colour further. And the fittings. Bring the Esky.’
She disappeared down the hatch completely this time, and all he heard then was her voice—no visual to go with it—but it made him laugh regardless.
‘Seriously?’ Her voice had risen an octave. ‘You bought a yacht with purple floral curtains?’
‘Told you the owners weren’t sailors.’
‘Yes, but you’ve been sailing this poor wee boat for how long? And you haven’t yet taken them down yet?’
‘I’ve been preoccupied.’
He hadn’t actually registered them as offensive—just unnecessary—and with the absence of anywhere to toss them … He started down the steps and found half the curtains and their strings already on the ground.
‘You’d better not be touching my half. I like them.’
‘You do not.’
The rest of them were down before he even had the food on the bench and his sister stood, hands on her hips, surveying the interior of the yacht—which admittedly seemed much brighter now.
‘Much better. I’m even warming to the mustard leather. At least the walls are white.’
Not