Treat with Caution (Treats to Tempt You Book 1) Read online

  True to his words, Kole remained a gentleman for the rest of the movie. He went out at one point and bought her another drink, and he didn’t try to kiss her.

  But his arm stayed around her for the entire film, and she half-watched and half-dreamed as she curled up to him, comfortable in his embrace, conscious of the smell of his body wash, the feel of his muscular chest beneath her fingers when she rested her hand there, the line of his jaw not far from her mouth. She only had to move a little and she’d be able to plant a kiss there.

  She didn’t, though. As Bond shot and rolled and blew up buildings, she snuggled up to Kole and let her mind play on his words. Sometimes people can’t show their true feelings for someone… They pretend nothing deeper exists. Had there been more between them than friendship all this time? Had they ignored their feelings because they were all supposed to be friends?

  Her mind spun, and she felt confused. She had to remember that although he’d protested this was a real date, it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. This relationship, or whatever you called it, had a use-by date, and its very purpose was to try and force the other person to admit they had feelings for them. She’d made the bet because she’d felt confident of arousing some affection in Kole without falling for him herself, so she had to be careful to remember that when he said nice things. He was only trying to do the same.

  Still, his words gave her a tingle that reappeared every time she thought about them.

  When the movie finished, they went back to the car, and Kole drove them back to Mangonui. They talked all the way, about the actor playing Bond, about whether it was the best Bond film as everyone was saying, about their other favorite movies and what series they liked to watch.

  And as the minutes slipped away, Tasha realized she enjoyed Kole’s company very much. She’d always known he was funny, clever, sharp, and witty, but in a group he bounced off Joss and the others for much of the time, purposely playing devil’s advocate or saying outrageous things to start a conversation or to make everyone laugh.

  On his own, though, he was different; he was still funny, wry, and smart, but for the first time maybe ever she saw the real him, thoughtful, kind, hard as he spoke about his dislike of drugs and the problems facing teens growing up nowadays, ambitious when he spoke a little about his photography business and where he wanted to take it in the future.

  “What?” he asked, obviously conscious of her watching him as he took the turn for Mangonui. By the direction he was going, he was obviously heading for the house she shared with Maisey, not his own home. He wasn’t assuming she’d go to bed with him on the first date. Yet again, he’d surprised her.

  “I’m trying to work out which is the real you,” she said softly. “You’re quite a puzzle.”

  He indicated and turned again, then glanced over at her. “We’re all like dice with six different sides. Everyone changes their face depending on who they’re with. Loud with your mates, respectful with your grandparents, charming with the girls, efficient with your boss. That’s quite normal.”

  “I suppose so. I hadn’t thought of it like that before.” She watched him pull up outside her house. “Do I change like that?”

  He put on the handbrake and turned off the engine. The sounds of a warm Northland night filled the car—the singing of cicadas off in the bush, a faint folksy jazz music filtering through from an open window, the call of voices in the harbor guiding in a late boat.

  “Perhaps not as much as other people do,” Kole said. His gaze caressed her face. “With Maisey and everyone else you’re spirited, energetic, warm, determined.”

  It was odd seeing herself through his eyes. He thought she was warm? Men had sometimes called her cold and hard. His words made her glow.

  “With your mum you’re slightly different,” he said. “More closed up. You think more about what you say when you’re with her, as if you have to vet everything before it comes out.”

  She nodded slowly. “That’s true.”

  The only light came from the moon, waxing and nearly full, casting the car in its silvery beams. It bleached the color from the world and turned it monochrome, as if they’d been transported into an old black-and-white movie. He was Laurence Olivier, Tasha thought, and she was Vivien Lee.

  “And with you?” she murmured. “What am I like with you?”

  “Cautious. Watchful. I feel like I’m handling a volatile metal.” He smiled. “I supposed that’s to be expected, considering. But still, you should come with a warning label. ‘Treat with Caution.’”

  She didn’t want to think about the bet at that moment. Something was sparking between them, and his eyes were intense. There was magic in the air, and she wanted a little piece of it.

  As she opened her mouth to say something, though, he turned, opened the door, and got out of the car. A wave of disappointment washed over her, and she got out awkwardly in her heels, embarrassed she’d assumed the evening wasn’t yet over.

  “I don’t need walking to the door,” she said sharply as he rounded the car and started up the path, holding out a hand to her.

  He turned, walking backwards, still holding out his hand. “I was hoping to kiss you goodnight. Unless you object?” He raised an eyebrow.

  Chapter Seven

  Tasha’s heart picked up its pace again, and she swallowed with a sudden onslaught of nerves as she took his hand.

  “It depends,” she said as saucily as she could manage, conscious of his warm fingers on hers. “Are you only going to kiss me on the cheek again?”

  He slowed as they reached the house, and his lips twisted wryly. “No. That was a mistake. It gave me a hard-on for about three hours.”

  “Me too.”

  He laughed, pulled her toward him, and turned her so she could lean on the wall of the house. Smooth, she thought, moderately impressed with the maneuver. He moved closer, imprisoning her against the wall. Okay, let’s see what you’ve got.

  A bout of nerves made her mouth go dry, and she swallowed, tucked her hands under her butt, and tried to stay calm. Was Kole nervous? He didn’t seem it. Even though she wore heels, he towered over her, all height and breadth and masculinity.

  She held her breath as he slipped his hand around to cup the back of her head. His other hand rested on her hip and tightened. Her chest rose and fell rapidly with her quick breaths—was he aware? She didn’t want him to know he was having this effect on her, not when he seemed so relaxed. Damn the man, he must do this so often it didn’t cross his mind he might do something wrong like clash her teeth or have horrid breath. Thank goodness she’d had a mint on the way home in the car. Her mind whirled with a hundred different thoughts as he dipped his head, and she struggled to focus. Concentrate, Tasha!

  His breath whispered across her lips, minty like hers, warm and sweet. Then he paused.

  “Are you sure about this?” he murmured, touching his nose to hers in an affectionate Eskimo kiss. “A kiss changes everything.”

  She wanted to yell Yes! Kiss me! But she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her desperation. Instead, she moistened her lips. “I can see how sex would change everything,” she said, lifting her chin, “but a kiss? You’re not that good.”

  His mouth curved a little. He brushed her cheek lightly with his thumb, barely touching it at all, but every hair on her body rose at the contact. “That’s not what I meant. A kiss is like Christmas Eve. Full of promise.” Their lips were almost touching, and hers tingled, as if their shadows had moved that last fraction of an inch to meet. “Once you see that stocking full of presents,” he continued softly, “it’s very difficult not to open one.”

  Every cell in her body ached for him to touch her. Had he planned this? If so, she was full of admiration, because he certainly knew how to make a woman beg. “Kole…” she whispered. She couldn’t bring herself to say yes, but she hoped the yearning showed in her eyes.

  His thumb brushed her bottom lip. “Okay.” He moved the last inch toward her, and then he
lowered his lips to hers.

  They were warm and dry, and he pressed soft kisses across her mouth from corner to corner, feather-light, slow, gentle, and undemanding. Still, her heart thundered, and she closed her eyes, letting him kiss her, feeling the heat of his body against her, his chest touching her breasts, his hips brushing hers. His fingers tightened a little in her hair, holding her there, telling her not to move away. His other hand slid from her hip around to her lower back, but stayed respectably above her butt.

  It was so unexpected. She’d thought he’d turn the dial up to eleven and launch straight into a full smooch, tongues and all, and she’d been half-prepared to be insulted, to push him away, to tell him to slow down. But this…this caress of her lips…she hadn’t expected this.

  He kissed slowly up her cheekbone, around to her ear, tucked a strand of hair behind it, then touched his lips to the skin beneath the lobe, a gesture that seemed so intimate, she was unable to contain a shiver. She tensed, knowing he’d notice, and wondered if he’d laugh and tease her. Am I getting to you, Wilde?

  But he didn’t. He lifted his head and looked into her eyes. “Want me to stop?”

  She studied his hazel eyes, seeing the moonlight reflected as a strip of silver through his irises. She knew his face so well, and yet she didn’t really know it at all. Up close, she could see a couple of scars on his cheek that he must have incurred from childhood chickenpox or something similar, usually hidden beneath his stubble. His eyelashes were girlishly long, framing eyes that held more emotion than she’d noticed before. Now they showed genuine concern, and something else, something she hadn’t expected to see.

  Desire.

  She ought to make a joke to lighten the situation, to show him she was unaffected by his closeness. She had to keep the upper hand in this relationship, especially this early on. She couldn’t let him think for a moment he stood a chance with the bet. Because he didn’t. This wasn’t anything to do with emotions. This was all physical, and there was nothing wrong with being turned on by a hot guy kissing you in a very sexy way. Even if he was supposed to be your best mate.

  So she gave a tiny shake of her head.

  “Good,” he said, his voice husky. He moved a little closer, blocking out the moonlight, casting her in shadow, then bent and touched his lips to her jaw. He kissed up her cheek, across her closed eyelids, down her nose, and finally back to her mouth.

  This time he held the kiss longer, and as his lips pressed against hers, she brought her hands from behind her back and rested them on his chest, feeling the defined muscles there as she traced her fingertips across his shirt. He felt warm, real, solid, and she realized she’d missed this, being close to someone, touching, and being touched back.

  In the background, whoever was playing the music changed the song, and slow, sensual guitar playing ensnared her, sending her senses spinning into the warm December night. Summer’s here, her mind whispered, set free to dance around the lamplight like a moth. Kisses like this were made for early summer, holding such promise of heat to come.

  Again, a little voice in her head murmured she should really pull back now and wish him goodnight, keep him hanging on, keep the upper hand. But the problem was that she didn’t want to stop. Not yet, not while he was still warming up. She wanted to see what else he held up his sleeve. If soft kisses like this were making her heart race, what would a proper kiss do?

  She wanted more, but again, couldn’t bring herself to express the wish, to make the first step.

  As if he’d read her mind, though, Kole brushed his tongue across her bottom lip with the lightest of touches. She was so keyed up by that point that she gasped, inhaling as desire shot through her. When her lips opened beneath his, he obviously took that as a good sign. He swept his tongue into her mouth, and with a moan of relief she raised a hand to slide into his short hair as he moved both arms around her.

  He held her tightly, one hand between her shoulder blades, one at the base of her spine, pulling her close to him. Tasha’s fingers clenched in the short strands of his hair, her other hand sneaking around his back, clutching his shirt. He kissed her deeply, his tongue sliding against hers, teeth grazing her bottom lip as he gave a deep, approving growl low in his throat, so sexy it made her feel faint—presumably, she thought as her internal muscles tightened, because all the blood in her body was rushing to somewhere other than her head.

  Jeez, she hadn’t expected this! A small measure of panic mixed with the pleasure threading through her veins. She really hadn’t given this enough thought. She’d known he’d probably be great in bed. He had that confidence, that arrogance that announced he didn’t need a map to find his way around a woman’s body. He’d had lots of girlfriends she knew about and probably lots more she didn’t, so obviously her gender in general found him irresistible. But she hadn’t expected his charm, his allure, his magnetism, or whatever he wanted to call it, to work on her.

  Behind the kiss, awareness of the bet they’d made hovered like a shadow. It would be there all the time—the feeling that he was doing his best to tease a reaction out of her, because he wanted the shop, and he wanted to win. But still, he wasn’t a cruel man. And she was perfectly aware it was possible to separate sexual desire from love. She was under no illusions he could want to win the bet but genuinely want to sleep with her at the same time.

  So even though she knew she had to remain cautious, she let herself feel flattered by his desire, and aroused by his tender but demanding mouth and the way his hands tightened on her, as if he was fighting with himself not to let them travel over her body. And gradually, as he showed no signs of wanting this to be a fleeting embrace, or of laughing and teasing her about the way she kissed, she relaxed and opened up to him, melting against him. Her tongue played with his, and she pressed her breasts against his chest, reaching up onto tiptoes to enjoy it more.

  Gosh, he was tall, and even though she’d seen him shirtless a dozen times each summer as they played rugby and cricket on the beach or swum in the sea, she hadn’t realized how firm his muscles were, or how he smelled so intoxicating. It was a humid evening, and his body had warmed his aftershave, filling her senses with the smell, taste, and feel of him. Her fingers itched to unbutton his shirt and slid beneath the cotton, to feel his skin, to run across his flat nipples, to graze down his back.

  As if reading her mind, he raised his head a fraction to look at her, and his eyes were dark, filled with intense desire. His lips brushed hers, and his hands slid slowly down to rest on her butt.

  “I want you,” he said, his voice deep and husky.

  “Really?” The word was out before she’d vetted it. It sounded childish, pathetic, and needy, and she bit her lip, cursing herself, sure he’d find it funny.

  But he didn’t laugh. He pulled her hips firmly against his, tightened his hands on her butt, then lifted her a little to settle his erection—obvious even through his jeans—into her soft mound.

  He kissed her jaw, then around to her ear. “Can’t fake that,” he murmured, brushing his lips down her neck. She shivered, and he groaned. “Jeez, it drives me crazy when you do that.”

  “Kole…” Her head was spinning. She needed to get a grip or she was going to melt into a puddle at his feet.

  He kissed back up her jaw to her mouth, then gave her one final, long kiss before raising his head. “Can I see you tomorrow?” He released his tight grip on her, but still held her hips, maybe aware she felt unbalanced on her heels.

  Not trusting her voice for the moment, she nodded.

  “I’ll take you out to a restaurant,” he said, still standing close to her. Too close—she couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. “My treat. No arguing. I’m going to feed you oysters and tiramisu and other aphrodisiacs. Top up your wine glass too much. Do my best to seduce you. And then afterward…” He kissed her nose. “We’ll see.”

  She looked into his eyes. How right he’d been. Just the one kiss, and everything had changed. It had stripped away the playfu
lness of their relationship, the thin veneer that had held their emotions in check, and now she felt as if she’d been out in the sun too long—burned, raw.

  He didn’t need aphrodisiacs. She was already seduced, already his. If he’d asked her to go back to his place with him, she would have said yes.

  But he didn’t. And she wasn’t going to ask.

  Instead, she said in a breathless voice, “I don’t like oysters.”

  He laughed, his eyes crinkling at the edges, looking more like the old Kole. “Then I’ll think of something else.”

  He held her gaze, reached out a hand, and touched the back of his fingers to her cheek. “Catcha later.”

  She fought the urge to kiss his fingers. “Yeah. See ya.”

  He dropped his hand, turned, and walked back to his car, and she let herself into the house with a shaking hand, turning to give him a last wave as he pulled away.

  Chapter Eight

  Ten o’clock on Sunday morning found Kole walking along Mangonui waterfront, a takeaway coffee in his hand, the rays of the morning sun turning the water in the harbor to sparkling blue.

  He had an appointment at eleven to take photos of a christening at a local church, and he had his equipment ready in the car. But first he had something he wanted to do.

  With a few minutes to kill, he stopped in front of the shop he’d had his eye on since he’d heard the previous tenants had decided to move on. It was perfect, small but not too small, with a room he would set up as a studio for taking photographs so he’d be able to leave his equipment out permanently, plus a large area where he could have a reception desk and display examples of his work for interested customers to examine.

  He’d already browsed through furniture catalogues and picked out the items he wanted, and he’d discussed a clean, smart, and professional décor with an interior designer who was chomping at the bit to get started. It was the ideal location, right on the waterfront, so he’d catch holidaymakers walking past who might decide to give themselves a lasting memory of their trip away, plus he’d generally be more visible for the local community.