Persuading Spring: A Sexy New Zealand Romance (The Four Seasons Book 4) Read online

  Perhaps she should ask Aaron to help, she thought darkly, imagining his face if she opened the door and called for him.

  She’d hardly been able to focus out on the quay and had only been aware of a pair of kind gray eyes, dark brown hair, and a short beard. In the elevator, she’d gotten a better look at him. He was older than her, she thought, early to mid-thirties, a big guy, good looking in a boy-next-door kind of way, with broad shoulders, large hands, and a no-nonsense look in his eye that suggested he was a true Kiwi man—the sort of guy who could change a tire, cook a mean steak on the barbecue, score a try at rugby, and still have enough energy to kiss a girl senseless when the sun went down.

  Normally, she would never have considered accompanying a man she didn’t know back to his hotel room, but his kind eyes, as well as the fact that he had a young son, had told her he could be trusted.

  Unlike some people.

  She gritted her teeth and returned to taking off her underwear.

  After undoing the final hook, she peeled it off and threw the whole lot on the pile, adding her panties and stockings to finish.

  Old Birdie would have hung it up carefully so that someone else would be able to use it.

  New Bridget kicked it into the corner.

  She opened the door to the shower, stepped in, and turned it up to scalding. The hot water covered her, and she ducked her head under it and stood there for a long, long time, letting the warmth sink into her bones, feeling the tension leaving her shoulders. It was like a baptism of fire, she thought, as she tipped back her face and let the water run over it. She was washing away the old Birdie, and when she stepped out, she’d be reborn. For too long she’d waited for Mal—breaking up with him to try to get him to commit. Old Birdie disgusted her. She didn’t ever want to be that woman again.

  When her fingers started to turn into prunes, she washed her face with a bar of hotel soap then finally turned off the hot water. Stepping out, she dried herself and wrapped the towel around her hair before surveying the products next to the sink. She picked up the can of man’s deodorant and used it, then shyly lifted the bottle of aftershave, removed the stopper, and sniffed it. Warm tones of cinnamon and sandalwood filtered to her nose with a touch of lemon, making her mouth water. Feeling as if she was intruding, she replaced the stopper and put it down.

  Luckily, the hotel supplied makeup remover pads, so she used a couple to get rid of the last remnants of her panda eyes and threw the pads in the bin. There was no brush though, and she didn’t want to use Aaron’s comb, so she just braided her hair and tore one of the ribbons from the torsolette and used it to tie the bottom of the braid.

  Lastly, she had to consider clothing. She studied the underwear Aaron had supplied with amusement. She’d never worn men’s boxers before. It felt a bit weird to put on clothing he’d worn next to his… skin. But what other option did she have? Her own panties were soaked, and the only other option was going commando in his track pants, and that hardly seemed fair to the dude.

  Stepping into the boxer-briefs, she pulled them up her legs and over her butt. They were too big but comfortable enough. The socks were miles too large, but her feet were cold so she turned the tops down a few times and left them on. Her lips twisting, she pulled on the track pants. Even when she pulled the tie tight, they were still too big, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, so she left them on and tugged the T-shirt over her head. It fell to her thighs, the short sleeves reaching to her elbows, but at least she was dry and clothed, so she couldn’t complain.

  She observed herself in the mirror, somewhat nervously. She looked exhausted and pale, but more composed. She would rather have stayed in the bathroom while she thought about what to do next, but it seemed rude, especially when they’d been so kind to her, so she took a deep breath and opened the door.

  The two of them were on the bed nearest the window. The boy lay on his front, half watching the TV while he fitted together a Lego set. Aaron sat next to him, leaning against the pillows, his eyes closed. As she walked into the room, though, he opened them and surveyed her.

  “Hi,” she said, folding her arms across her breasts, conscious she wasn’t wearing a bra.

  “Hello, Bridget.” Mateo sat up. “I’m making a digger, look.”

  She approached the bed and glanced down at the box of pieces. “Are you following those instructions? That’s clever of you.”

  “I’m making this one, but you can also make this one too.” He turned the page to show her. “I’ll do that one when I’ve finished.”

  “I’d like to see that.”

  “Daddy was going to eat all the ice cream but I made him save some for you.”

  “Is that so?” She glanced at Aaron. He was watching her, a small smile on his face. He’d changed out of his wet shirt into an All Blacks rugby shirt, the home jersey that clung to men’s bodies in all the right places. Wow. The guy had some serious muscles going on.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  “I’m better, thank you.” She was unable to suppress a little shiver, still chilled in spite of the hot shower.

  “Here.” He rose from the bed, surprisingly graceful for a big guy, picked up a gray sweatshirt, and passed it to her.

  “Thank you.” She pulled it on. He’d worn it before—she could smell his aftershave on it. It felt like he’d put his arms around her.

  “What did you do with your wet clothing?” he asked. “Do you want me to get room service to clean and dry it for you?”

  “No.” She spoke sharply and cleared her throat. “I don’t want it. I want to get rid of it.”

  “All right.” He spoke softly. “I’ll deal with it. Now, what would you like to drink? A hot cup of tea or coffee? Or something stronger? The mini bar’s stocked. Wine? Whisky? Brandy?”

  The notion of drinking herself into a stupor appealed, but she’d have to wait until she was on her own to do that—she couldn’t get plastered in front of the boy. “Tea would be lovely.”

  “Sure.” He gestured to the bed as he passed her to switch on the kettle. “Have a seat.”

  Somewhat shyly, she lowered herself down beside Mateo. His little fingers fumbled occasionally at the tiny Lego pieces, but he was surprisingly adept and appeared to be reading the instructions well enough.

  “I wondered whether you wanted to call someone to let them know you’re all right,” Aaron said as he put two tea bags into mugs.

  “I don’t know.” Panic tightened her throat.

  “You don’t have to tell them where you are.” He held her gaze, and suddenly she knew what it must feel like to be a wounded animal someone had brought into his surgery for treatment. She could imagine how he would handle an injured dog, talking to it in a low voice, reassuring and comforting. “They’re probably very worried about you,” he said gently before turning his gaze back to the mugs.

  She thought about her friends. They would be worried. Callie, Rowan, and Neve would be so upset, and the guys would be considering tracking down Mal and castrating him. And as for her brother… She thought about how he’d thrown his phone across the room. He was such a teddy bear—she’d never seen him so angry. It brought a lump to her throat.

  “Okay,” she whispered.

  “Use my phone,” he said, indicating where it rested on the table. “You can go outside if you want to.”

  “No, that’s okay.” Oddly, she didn’t want to be alone.

  She picked up the phone and brought it over to him. “How do I unlock it?”

  He showed her the pattern to draw between the dots.

  “You’re very trusting,” she said wryly.

  “I think you’re the least of my worries.” He folded his arms and leaned against the counter, watching her.

  She started dialing Hitch’s number. Then she remembered that he’d smashed his phone, so she canceled that and dialed Rowan’s mobile instead.

  “Hello?” Rowan’s voice, curious at the sight of an unknown number.

  “It�
��s Birdie,” she said automatically. Beside her, Aaron tilted his head to look at her, but she kept her eyes downcast.

  “Birdie! Thank God. Oh Jesus, we’ve been so worried about you. Hitch, it’s Birdie.”

  Thank goodness, her brother was with Rowan. “Can I talk to him?” she whispered.

  “Of course. Are… are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” It was a lie, but Rowan wanted reassurance and she was happy to give it.

  “Okay. That’s all I wanted to know. Hold on.”

  A rustle as the phone changed hands. Beside her, the kettle boiled, and Aaron turned to make the tea.

  Hitch’s deep voice came through the phone, filled with relief. “Birdie?”

  Emotion rolled over her, and she could just about manage a squeaky, “Hi.”

  “Where are you?” he wanted to know.

  She swallowed hard. “I just wanted to let you know I’m okay.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “I just need some time to myself.”

  “You don’t want me to come pick you up?”

  “No.”

  “We can go anywhere you like. You don’t have to come back here.”

  “No, thanks.”

  “What about if Rowan comes around? Or Callie?”

  “No. I just want to be on my own for a while.”

  She heard him blow out a breath. “All right,” he said. “But you’re safe? You’re okay?”

  “I’m safe.”

  He sighed. “Yeah.”

  She wasn’t okay, and he knew that.

  “Mal’s a fucking idiot, Birdie. You’re better off without him.”

  Deep down, she knew that, but it was too soon for her heart to accept it. Her eyes welled with tears. She pushed the phone into Aaron’s hand, went into the bathroom, and shut the door.

  Chapter Four

  Aaron stared at the phone in his hand. She hadn’t pressed anything, so whomever she’d been talking to was still there.

  He hovered his thumb over the red button. This was none of his business. How had he gotten himself involved? He’d only meant to be a good Samaritan, but that didn’t mean he needed to become entangled in something that was nothing to do with him.

  Then he sighed. Who was he kidding? When had he ever been able to look in the other direction when someone needed help?

  He held the phone up to his ear. “Hello?”

  “Who is this?” A guy’s voice, defensive, angry.

  “Hi. My name’s Aaron. This is my phone,” he said, somewhat wryly. “I just wanted to let you know that Bridget’s with me, and she’s okay, just a bit upset, which is understandable, from what I gather.”

  “Why is she with you? Where are you?”

  “I found her on the quay. She was soaked through and freezing, and I was worried about her. I’m staying in a hotel not far away, so I persuaded her to come back with me.” He realized how that must sound to this guy who was—what? Not old enough to be her father. Brother? “I’m staying here with my seven-year-old son,” he said, thinking it made him sound more trustworthy. “I’m a vet,” he added, as he always did, because people seemed to like vets.

  “I want her to come home,” the guy said. “Tell me which hotel you’re in.”

  “Can’t do that. Sorry. Look, I’m talking to you because I know you’re worried about her, and I wanted to reassure you that she’s okay. I appreciate that you must be out of your mind with worry, and I’m not keeping her location a secret out of anything other than respect for her wishes—I hope you can believe that.”

  “I’ll try,” the guy said.

  “What’s your name?” Aaron asked.

  “Everyone calls me Hitch. It’s our surname—Hitchcock.”

  “Right. Look, Hitch, I don’t want to ask Bridget because I don’t want to upset her, but I presume her husband-to-be didn’t turn up today?”

  “Yeah. Fucking bastard. He did have the cheek to come around here an hour ago, though. Wanted to apologize.” Hitch gave a derisive snort.

  “Jesus.” Aaron would have echoed Hitch’s curse if Mateo hadn’t been in the room. “What did you say to him?”

  “Didn’t get a chance to say much. A mate of mine floored him.”

  “Good to hear.”

  “Yeah. My only regret is that I didn’t get to do it myself.”

  “What did he say?”

  “The idiot cried like a baby. Said he’d thought he wasn’t ready, but that he still loves her and still wants to marry her.” Hitch hesitated. “Don’t tell her that.”

  “I won’t. Not that I think it will matter.”

  “Yeah, well, it wouldn’t be the first time they’ve broken up and gotten back together. He’s got some kind of hold over her. I’ve never understood it. He’s never treated her very well, and she’s always gone back for more.”

  “Being jilted isn’t something she’s likely to forgive in a rush though, right?”

  “Maybe.”

  Aaron could hear the uncertainty and frustration in Hitch’s voice. Her brother obviously hadn’t experienced that sort of relationship for himself. Aaron thought about Nita—about their long love/hate relationship, about how many times he’d tried to make it work, even though most men would have walked away years ago. Yes, he understood how Bridget would be feeling. She’d be wishing her fiancé was dead at the same time as missing him with all her heart.

  “What are you going to do now?” Hitch wanted to know.

  “I gave her some clothes to change into—she needed to get out of the dress. I’ve just made her a cup of tea. I might see if I can get her to eat something. Afterward, I’ll ask her what she wants to do. I can book her another room here for the night, or I can call her a taxi, whatever she wants. She doesn’t have anything on her—no phone or purse, but I’ll make sure she’s okay.”

  “Thanks,” Hitch said. “I appreciate it. She was lucky you happened to be passing.”

  “Yeah, I guess.” Aaron wanted to protest that he was only doing what anyone else would have done, but then he thought of the two men who’d passed her and laughed. Maybe not.

  “Can I call this number if I need to?” Hitch asked.

  “Of course, any time.”

  “Okay. Thanks.” Hitch hung up.

  Aaron slipped the phone into his pocket, added some milk to the tea in the two mugs, then knocked softly on the bathroom door. “Bridget? Want your tea?”

  For a moment she didn’t say anything, and he wondered whether she was going to refuse to come out. Then the door opened slowly. She’d been crying again. In fact, as she stood there, more tears tipped over her lashes and ran down her cheeks. He’d never seen anyone look so unhappy.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, so forlorn his heart went out to her.

  “Aw, come here.” Without thinking, he reached out and pulled her into his arms. At that moment, he just wanted to give comfort.

  She stood rigidly for a moment, and then she softened and curled up against him, her cheek on his shoulder, her arms sliding around him.

  He rubbed her back and whispered, “Shhh.” Although she was tall for a girl, maybe five nine or ten, she was still around four inches shorter than he was, and was small and slight in his arms. Once again, he felt a strong urge to protect her, to keep her safe.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “You don’t deserve this.”

  “It’s all right. I’m used to it. Wounded things have a way of seeking me out.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m a vet, remember? I’m a sucker for a sad stray. Come on.” With an arm still around her, he led her into the room and over to the other bed.

  Mateo had risen onto his knees when she’d come out, and now he got off the bed and came over.

  “Can you pull back the duvet?” Aaron asked him. The boy did so, and Aaron steered her to the bed. “Sit down.” When she complied, he lifted her feet and she automatically lay down. He covered her over. “I’ll get your tea,” he said. He went over t
o the counter and put a few chocolate biscuits on a plate. Then he brought them back to her.

  He stopped at the side of the bed and stared.

  “I think she’s asleep,” Mateo said.

  “Wow. I wish you went to sleep that quickly.”

  “She’s in your bed,” the boy pointed out. “Where are you going to sleep, Dad?”

  Aaron remembered the press of her breasts against his chest—like two small soft cushions without the support of a bra—and had to resist the urge to slip under the covers and wrap himself around her. “I doubt she’ll sleep for long. But if she does, I’ll have your bed and you can sleep on the floor.”

  “Dad…”

  “It’s all right, I’ll lend you a pillow.”

  “You’re such a tease.” Mateo dragged him back to the other bed. “Play a game with me?”

  “Sure. Just give me a minute.”

  He found a rubbish bag under the sink and went into the bathroom. Her clothing lay in a heap on the floor. He picked up the dress, folded it, and placed it in the bag, then added the rest of the items, trying not to stare at the lacy bodice and panties. Wrapping up the bag, he took it out and left it on the counter. He’d decide what to do with it later.

  A ring sat on the basin. He picked that up too and slid it into his pocket.

  He tipped her tea away and took his over to the bed, joining his son. Mateo turned on Aaron’s iPad, and they played a succession of games, then broke up his Lego digger and began to build the other truck in the leaflet.

  While they played, the rain continued to hammer down outside. Normally, he’d have taken his son to Te Papa or to the cinema, but that would have meant venturing out in the rough weather again, and besides, he didn’t want to leave Bridget on her own.

  A couple of hours passed. Aaron made him and Mateo another drink, and they ate the chocolate biscuits as they played and watched a kids’ movie. From time to time, he glanced across at her. She didn’t toss and turn, or make any noise, just breathed slowly and quietly. Without her makeup and in his sweatshirt she looked younger but still as beautiful, her pale skin bearing a few freckles across her nose and cheeks, her hair gradually drying to a pretty blonde. How strange that she’d just appeared in his life like this. Within a few hours she’d probably be gone, and he doubted he’d ever see her again.