Red-Hot Honeymoon: The Honeymoon Arrangement / Marriage in Name Only? / The Honeymoon That Wasn't

Callie sighed. ‘Ready. I’m just not ready.’

Yeah, and that was a lie. There was another reason why she was hesitating, why she was treading carefully. She wanted him—he knew that … had no doubts about that. So something else was causing her to hesitate. What was it and why was he so desperate to know?

Callie was waiting for his reply, buy there was nothing that he could say except, ‘We won’t be doing anything together until you are a hundred per cent comfortable with me, Cal. So try and relax, stop worrying, go and get warm. We can share a bed without me jumping you, I promise. Actually, tonight I’d love to sleep in this hammock. It looks super-comfortable and I’ve slept in far worse.’ Finn took a long sip of his beer. ‘Go and put something warm on, honey.’

Callie nodded, put her untouched beer on the table and walked to the stairs leading to the sleeping platform. Finn watched her gorgeous ass moving up the spiral staircase and felt the action in his pants.

All he had to do was follow her, start kissing her, and she’d be his. He knew that. God, it was tempting. But he didn’t want to have to coerce her, tempt her, persuade her. When they made love it would be because it was a mutual decision.

It had something to do with the respect that Callie had been talking about earlier.

‘Finn! This bedroom is amazing!’ Callie called down to him. ‘Come up here and look at this place. It would be like having sex in the clouds—I mean, sleeping with you in the clouds—I mean … Aaarrrgggh! Dammit!’

Finn grinned, happy that he wasn’t the only one who had his mind in the bedroom.

‘Ignore me.’ Callie’s low voice drifted down to him.

Yeah, not easy to do, Finn silently assured her as he swallowed his chuckle.

Callie pushed her plate away and groaned as she leaned back in her chair. She’d expected a cold supper. She hadn’t expected delicious prawns, spicy fish fillets and perfectly cooked steak. There’d also been a couscous salad and a watermelon, olive and feta salad, along with crusty bread and a variety of dips.

After the flight from Cape Town and two glasses of red wine she was feeling lazy and hazy and very sleepy. At nearly eight it was fully dark, and the soundtrack of the African bush had started to play. The crickets chirping was a familiar sound, and there was the power saw noise of the African cicada beetle. Occasionally a fish eagle would let rip with a heee-ah, heeah-heeah, and from somewhere that sounded far too close they heard the yelping, woofing and whining of what Finn said was a family of black-backed jackals.

It was noisy, Callie realised. Very noisy.

Finn, his strong features looking even more handsome in the low light of the paraffin lamps, looked at her across the table. ‘There’s chocolate mousse in the cool box.’

‘I wish I could. I’m stuffed.’

Like her, Finn had pulled on jeans and a hooded sweatshirt against the cool night air. The blazing fire in the pit kept the worst of the chill off, but this was a place that invited you to have a warm shower and then to snuggle under the down duvet on the bed upstairs, warm in each other’s arms.

It was an attractive proposition, Callie thought. But Finn had reiterated his wish to sleep in the double hammock. He’d found another down duvet in a storage cupboard on the bathroom platform and announced that he’d be super-warm wrapped up in it in the hammock.

‘You look tired,’ Finn commentated, lifting his glass of red to his lips.

‘I am.’ Callie leaned her arms on the table. ‘It’s been an interesting week.’

‘You should’ve been in Paris by now.’

Tearing around the city, rushing from designer to designer, not having a moment to enjoy the city in the spring … Callie thought that she would much rather be here.

‘You never told me what happened that you could suddenly take me up on my offer to be a fake wife.’

Could she tell him? Would he understand? Callie ran her finger around the rim of her full glass. He was treating her to three weeks in luxury—maybe he deserved an explanation. And, geez, they were going to be in each other’s company for three weeks—they were going to have to talk! They were going to be friends whether they liked it or not. It was up to her to keep things casual.

‘I’m running away—trying to avoid someone,’ she said, looking into the fire pit. So much for keeping it casual!

‘Yeah, I sort of realised that.’ Finn stretched out his legs and rested his wine glass on his folded arm. ‘So, who is Laura and why are you avoiding her?’

Callie jerked her head up. ‘Where did you hear that name?’

‘The other day, when you were arguing with your brother. Who is she?’ Finn asked again.

Well, she’d started this conversation, she couldn’t shut it down now.

‘My mother,’ Callie said, slouching down in her chair, crossing her feet at the ankles. ‘She left us. We haven’t heard from her since I was seven. Seb, my brother, has been tracking her movements around the world for years—he’s a hacker and can do that—and they started exchanging emails. The result of which is that Laura is coming home for a three-week visit, landing—’ Callie checked her watch ‘—in about an hour. She and Seb are going to reconnect, and everybody wants me to meet her too. Well, “everybody” being Seb.’

‘And you made damn sure that there was no possibility of that happening by leaving the city with me? That’s why you changed your mind about coming?’ Finn said, his voice deep in the darkness.

‘Yeah. I needed to leave and you gave me a damn good excuse.’ Would he think she was a coward? That she was being immature? Why did it matter so much that he didn’t judge her?

Finn pulled his legs in and sat up. ‘So why don’t you want to meet her? Why don’t you want to hear why she left?’

That question again, Callie thought.

‘Because it doesn’t matter! Because nothing she can say—and, trust me, I’ve thought of every excuse she could come up with—would make me feel better, would make me understand. I was seven, Finn. Seven! I needed a mother. Especially since my dad dealt with my mother leaving by hooking up with younger and younger women. They were mostly after his money, and weren’t interested in his little daughter hanging around. Seb was twelve, and he dealt with her leaving by withdrawing into his sports and computers.’

Callie heard her voice rise and made a conscious effort to remain calm.

‘If it wasn’t for Rowan, who lived next door, and Yasmeen—’

‘Who is she?’

‘Our housekeeper—and I suppose my real mother in every way that counted,’ Callie explained. She pushed her hair off her forehead and shoulders. ‘Look, I know I sound harsh, but I can’t meet Laura. I don’t want to …’

‘Don’t want to meet her, like her, risk being hurt by her again?’

‘Yeah.’

He got it—he understood. Damn. There were those fuzzies in her tummy again. She could get used to those. Not a good idea.

Finn rested his forearms on his thighs and looked up at her, sparks from the fire reflected in his eyes. Callie, feeling as if he’d taken a peek into part of her soul, thought that he’d heard enough from her, so she turned the spotlight onto him.

‘So, you mentioned your stepbrothers? How many do you have?’

Finn half smiled. ‘Three. All younger. They’re driving me nuts lately.’

‘Why?’

‘They were, to put it mildly, upset that the wedding was called off. As I said, because they know me, and know that I never go back on my word, they assumed that the break-up was Liz’s idea. I haven’t bought food for two weeks because someone always pitches up at my house with beer and take-out.’

‘Nobody rocked up that night I had dinner at your house,’ Callie pointed out.

‘I sent them a group message while I was upstairs and told them I would kick their ass if they didn’t give me a night on my own.’ Finn pulled a face. ‘The next night I had all three of them coming to check up on me and had to spend half the evening reassuring them that I was okay.’

‘And are you?’ Callie asked. ‘Okay?’

‘Mostly. I’m glad to still be on this assignment, working. Glad of the distraction that is you.’

Callie smiled at that. Whatever they had cooking it was, she had to admit, a hell of a distraction. ‘It’s surprising that your younger brothers are so protective of you.’

‘We’re protective of each other. They’re my brothers. My mum married James when I was fourteen and he already had the boys. Mum died when I was seventeen, and James acted as my legal guardian for a while.’

‘Where’s your real dad?’

‘Who the hell knows? Jail? Dead? In a gutter somewhere?’ Finn said harshly.

He rubbed a hand over his face, and when he finally met her eyes she made sure that her face was impassive.

‘Pretend I didn’t say that, please? I never talk about him and I have no idea where that came from.’

Maybe their bottle of wine had contained some magic truth potion, because she’d had no intention of telling him about Laura. Or maybe it was the fact that they were absolutely, utterly alone under an African night sky …

Or maybe it was because they liked talking to each other.

And she thought that she had had a messed-up childhood. God, they were a pair, Callie thought.

Finn cleared his throat before speaking again. ‘I’ve always protected my brothers—yanked them out of scrapes, had their back. I’ve been their rock, their calm in the storm. This break-up has been the first crisis I’ve had that they’ve witnessed and they want to be there for me.’

‘And your stepdad? How does he feel about your break-up?’

Finn shrugged and kept his shoulders up around his ears. ‘Dunno. He died about six months ago.’

‘I’m so sorry, Finn. You two were close?’

‘Yeah. He was the best man I ever knew …’ Finn cleared his throat. ‘I adored him.’

God. He had a waste-of-space father, a dead mother, and his stepdad, whom he’d loved, had recently passed away. He’d broken up with his fiancée two weeks before his wedding. Was there anything else that life could throw at the poor guy?

Enough now, she told the universe, annoyed on his behalf. Seriously. Just enough, already.

Callie leaned forward and touched his knee in silent support. He hadn’t stopped grieving, she realised. Probably wouldn’t for a while. Losing his fiancée had undoubtedly pulled all those old feelings of grief over losing his stepfather to the surface again.

Oh, yeah, there was far too much emotion swirling around for them to sleep together. Because there was no chance that sex would be about just sex after a conversation like this. For her it would all be tangled up with the urge to soothe, to comfort. And to him she would be just a distraction …

Thinking that it would be prudent, and smart, to close this conversation down, Callie pushed her chair back and stood up. ‘I’d really like a shower. I feel grubby.’

Finn stared up at her for the longest time before lifting one broad shoulder. ‘Sure.’

Callie looked at the stairs that led to the dark bathroom area below them and bit her lip. ‘Is there a torch anywhere?’

Finn stood up. ‘I’ll go down and light some lamps for you. There’s a big tub on the deck if you’d prefer a bath.’

A hyena whooped in the distance and Callie shivered. ‘Not that brave. I’m not entirely sure if my standards of animal-proof are the same as the lodge’s, so I’d rather not take the chance.’

‘The bath is at least twenty foot off the ground, Hollis,’ Finn told her, smiling.

‘There might a genius leopard out there who has the situation sussed,’ Callie suggested, only half joking.

‘You’re a nut,’ Finn said with on a shake of his head and a grin. ‘Go get your PJs while I sort out some light for you.’

‘Thanks.’ Callie bit her bottom lip. ‘I don’t suppose you’ll stand guard, will you?’

Finn touched her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. ‘The only way that will happen is if I’m in the shower with you.’ Finn dropped his thumb when she shook her head. ‘No, I didn’t think so.’

Snuggled down in the enormous bed on the top platform, Callie couldn’t keep her eyes off the magnificent night sky. It looked as if God had taken a handful of diamonds and tossed them against a sticky backdrop, allowing them to hang there in a perpetual grip. She’d never seen stars like this before—she almost felt she could reach out and touch them.

She was beyond tired, Callie thought, and wished that sleep would come. But every time she closed her eyes she was jolted by another strange sound. The rustle of something in the tree—probably just the breeze, or a bird—had her constantly on edge. It was not the genius leopard, she kept telling herself. And just when she felt her eyelids starting to close those pesky jackals would start their yelping again, and then something would grunt and the hyena would laugh.

Callie was over her night under the African stars and was not finding anything remotely amusing. She was exhausted, slightly chilled, and—though she hated to admit it—a lot scared. She realised she liked having walls and windows between her and the night, locks and safety chains. She didn’t like feeling as if she was a snack on the buffet of the African savannah, and it didn’t matter how much Mr Cool downstairs reassured her: this was not natural! Or maybe it was too natural.

Again—walls, doors, windows! That was what God had created them for!

The sounds of the night dropped away and Callie felt her eyelids drooping. She was on that wonderful edge of sleep when she felt a rumbling in her chest, felt electricity charge the air. Instantly the night sounds ceased as a deep-throated grunt echoed across the bush. Oh, crap!

Callie scrambled up in bed and pulled the duvet over her head.

The grunt increased in intensity and she felt the sound invade her chest, skitter down to her nerve-endings. Lion! Callie sucked in her breath and wished that she could belt out of bed and run all the way back to Cape Town. The deep grunts tailed off and she bit her lip, waiting for the next sound. Just when she thought that the lion had stopped he let out a massive, deep-throated roar that raised every hair on her arms.

God—oh, God—oh, God. Finn had to call the lodge. There was a lion below them. Who could sleep with a lion below them?

‘Finn!’ she whispered.

Finn didn’t reply.

Throwing back the covers, Callie grabbed all her courage and belted for the stairs. She cursed when she stubbed her big toe against a table. The roars were still reverberating through the night. In bare feet she scampered down the steps and by sheer chance located the radio and mobile on the table, where Sarah had left them. Her shaky hands fumbled with the unfamiliar device.

‘Whatcha doing?’ Finn’s drowsy voice came from the direction of the hammock.

‘Finn! There’s a lion below us!’ Callie hissed. ‘We’ve got to call the lodge!’

‘Um, okay. Why?’

‘Because there’s a lion!’ Callie shouted. ‘Below us!’

‘Lions don’t climb trees, Hollis, especially animal-proofed trees,’ Finn drawled.

If she hadn’t been so freaked out Callie would have heard the amusement in his voice.

Another roar rolled through the stygian darkness and Callie jumped, dropping the mobile which skittered away. She swore and peered down at the pitch-black floor. She couldn’t see the phone so she swore again.

She was going to owe Rowan a lot of money after tonight.

‘Cal, calm down, honey.’ Finn’s voice was low and steady, a beacon in the darkness. ‘Leave the phone and head over here.’

Thinking that sounded like a very good plan, Callie inched her way over the deck to the bulky outline that was Finn lying in the hammock. When she stood next to him he lifted his hands and in one smooth movement lifted her, so that she lay on top of him. Rolling her off, he pulled the duvet out from under her and pulled her up so that her head rested on his shoulder.

‘Uh … what are you doing?’

‘Trying to get you to settle down so that we both can get some sleep,’ he muttered.

His hand rested on her lower back and she snuggled up to his warmth.

‘Now, listen to me, city girl. A lion’s roar can be heard up to five miles away, and I promise you that lion is nowhere near us. Yeah, he sounds amazing, but he’s not about to eat us—so calm down, okay?’

‘I still think we should call the lodge,’ Callie protested on a huge yawn.

‘What would we tell them? A lion is roaring? Yeah, that’s what they do in the wild, Mr Banning. They’ll think that I have the tiniest pair of balls in creation,’ Finn scoffed.

‘I’ll call them and tell them that you aren’t scared but I am terrified.’

Finn’s sigh brushed the top of her head. ‘There’s nothing to be frightened of. Listen. He’s stopped.’

Callie lifted her head and, true enough, the grunts and roars had stopped. She was just starting to relax when another rumbling loud roar split the night. Callie yelped and buried her face in Finn’s neck, plastered herself tightly against him, hoping to climb inside.

Finn sighed. ‘Or maybe not.’

Finn’s hand stroked her neck, her hair, her back. His voice was low and warm and calming. ‘You’re safe, Cal, I promise.’

Callie shivered in his arms.

‘Breathe, angel,’ he told her.

Callie pulled in long deep breaths, felt his warmth and his strength and breathed again. Then her eyelids started to close and she pulled in another deep breath.

In Finn’s arms, fast asleep, feeling warm and safe, she didn’t even hear the next roar that shattered the night.

CHAPTER SEVEN

THEY DINED OUTSIDE the following evening, at a beautifully laid table on the lawn of the lodge, under another magnificent star-heavy sky. In the distance they could see a storm, the lightning lighting up huge thunderclouds. They could taste the rain in the air but were assured that dinner would be long over before the storm hit, so they sat back to enjoy the exceptional food placed in front of them.

Finn noticed that the lead singer of a popular band sat with a pouty waif at the next table, and beyond them he recognised an English politician with a woman who was definitely not his wife. If he were a tabloid journalist he would be having a field-day right now; he might be feeling a bit sleazy but he’d be making a fortune, he thought.

He looked across at Callie, who was leaning back in her chair, holding her wine glass, her eyes fixed on the storm on the horizon. God, she was beautiful, he thought. He’d always thought that she was attractive, but now, after seeing her without make-up and dozy with sleep, or animated and thrilled while she bottle-fed two orphaned cheetah cubs, or pensive while watching a pride of lions take down a zebra, he was slowly realising that she was more than pretty and deeper than he’d thought.

He’d thought that he would be taking a bubbly flirt on holiday with him, but the woman he was with—even if he’d only spent two full days in her company—was less bubble, more substance. And sexier than he’d believed possible.

Finn dropped his hand and surreptitiously rearranged himself under the table, feeling as if his pants were suddenly a size too small. Since he’d woken up with her clinging to him like an octopus he’d been super-aware of her all day. The length of her legs, the freckles on her chest, her white-tipped fingernails. God, if he was noticing a woman’s nails then he was in deep, deep crap.

He’d thought he was going on holiday with Flirty Callie but instead he found himself with Intriguing Callie, and he wasn’t sure he could handle her. Flirty Callie he could brush off—ignore if he had to. This other Callie had him wanting to dig a little, to see what was below the surface.

Finn took a sip of his Cabernet and pushed his dessert plate away. Then he manoeuvred his chair so that he was sitting next to her, facing the storm. He could smell her perfume and feel the heat of her bare shoulder when he touched it with his.

He slid his hand under hers and linked her fingers with his. He saw the quick, searching look she sent him and ignored it. If she asked he’d say that this was what married people did—touched each other—but the truth was that he couldn’t sit there and not touch her.

‘Tell me about your jewellery box.’

There was so much else he wanted to know about her—he had a list of burning questions—but this topic seemed the safest, the most innocuous.

He heard her quick intake of breath, felt her eyes on his face.

He slowly turned his head and lifted his eyebrows. ‘Why would a woman who loves clothes and shoes and accessories not wear some of that fabulous jewellery?’

Callie crossed one leg over the other and her swinging foot told him she was considering her response, choosing her words. He didn’t want the bog standard answer she obviously wanted to hand him—he wanted the truth. He’d rather not know than have her spin him a line.

‘Don’t wrap the truth up in a pretty bow—give it to me straight.’

The foot stopped swinging and the sigh was louder this time. She took so long to say anything that Finn began to doubt that she would speak at all. When she did, her voice was low and tight with tension.

‘That was the first time I’d seen the box for … oh, fifteen years. It lived on my mum’s dressing table and as a little girl I’d spend hours playing with her bangles and necklaces. Her rings.’

Finn tried not to wince at the thought of little Callie playing with the two and three carat diamonds he’d seen.

‘Some of the jewellery was my grandmother’s—my father’s mother’s—passed down through the family. A lot of it is my mother’s. My father constantly bought her jewellery in an attempt to make her happy.’

Ah, well … ‘I take it that the buying of jewellery didn’t work?’

‘Not so much. Neither did the pretty clothes and the gym membership and the credit cards.’ Callie shrugged. ‘She didn’t want to be a wife … a mother. To be chained to my dad, the house, us. She gave birth to the expected son and was horrified, I once heard, to find herself pregnant with me. She’d never really wanted children, and apparently finding herself pregnant with me was a disaster of magnificent proportions.’

‘Who told you that?’

Callie crossed her legs and shuffled in her chair. ‘People say that kids don’t remember stuff, but I do. She screamed that during one of their fights.’

‘I’m sorry.’ It was all he could say—all he could think of to say. Finn removed his hand from hers and put his arm around her shoulder, leaning sideways to kiss her temple. ‘But people do say stuff they don’t mean in the heat of the moment.’

‘Except that her leaving me—us—made that statement true.’ Callie took a large, serious sip from her glass. ‘Anyway, the jewellery—she left it behind. It meant nothing to her. So why should it mean anything to me?’

God. Imagine knowing that your mother was out there somewhere but not interested in knowing whether you were dead or alive, happy or sad. People should have to take a test before they were allowed to become parents, Finn thought. His father should head up the queue.

Callie turned her head and blinded him with a big smile, perfect teeth flashing. ‘Now, don’t you go all sympathetic on me, Banning. I had a father who adored me and spoilt me rotten, an older brother who adored me and spoilt me rotten, and a housekeeper-cum-nanny who—’

‘Let me guess,’ Finn interrupted, making sure that his tone was bone-dry. ‘Who adored you and spoilt you rotten?’

Callie laughed. ‘I have a fabulous life, and I’m on holiday with a nice man.’

‘I prefer sexy.’

This time her smile was more genuine. ‘So I have nothing to complain about!’

Being abandoned by your mum is a pretty big deal, Callie, Finn told her silently. Even if you choose to think it isn’t. The one person who is supposed to put you first, love you best, stand in your corner left you. That’s got to cause some deep scars on your psyche.